Solon turned at the sound, his face shocked. He saw Chloe running at him with the sword held in white knuckles as she lunged. With a snarl, he came forward to meet her.
But she realized too late: Solon was a warrior king; he would have been trained since birth in combat. He nonchalantly weaved and brought a hand smashing down onto Chloe’s wrist. The sword fell out of her hands and skittered along the smooth paving stones. He pushed on her shoulder as she tumbled out of control, the shove sending her running forward until her head struck a column. A burst of pain exploded in her head as she staggered and then collapsed onto the hard ground.
Her senses reeling, Chloe was about to roll over and push herself to her feet, when Tomarys spoke again.
‘To sow the seeds of victory before the fight begins, we must play with expectations.’
She kept her eyes closed and body still, even as part of her screamed that she had to act. Finally, she lifted her head and saw Solon return to the Ark of Revelation and heave at the handle. The lid came up. Rainbow light now bathed his face in a glow of rippling color. His expression was triumphant as he held the edge of the lid high with one hand and reached inside with the other.
High above her, the one-eyed silver dragon and its shiny black opponent flew apart, then collided again. Chloe saw torn skin on both of them, blood dripping from ugly gashes.
She saw the sword, resting on the ground between her and Solon. There would be no better time.
Chloe climbed to her feet and stumbled over, grabbing hold of the hilt and lifting the weapon. It was suddenly light in her hands and she knew what she had to do. Solon was consumed with the ark; his eyes feverish as he took hold of whatever was in there.
‘You want your enemies to be distracted. Then, when you take action, be bold,’ Tomarys whispered in her ear.
She came up behind the sun king and gazed at the thick yellow silk of his robe, at a place directly between his shoulder blades. She thought of Princess Yasmina’s terrible fate. Most of all, she remembered her friend, Tomarys.
‘Let me end the pain,’ Chloe murmured.
Solon whirled at the sound of her voice but she didn’t hesitate, she thrust in hard, plunging the sharp blade into the center of the sun king’s back, feeling the steel make contact and then slide in with little effort. The point emerged out the other side as he screamed in pain. The lid of the ark crashed closed and the rainbow light immediately vanished. He clasped his hands over the blade as if trying to pull it out through his chest. Chloe let go of the hilt as he stared at her with eyes so wide she could see their whites.
The sun king opened his mouth to speak. He staggered for two steps, clutching the sharp steel as he glared at her. Crimson liquid spurted from between his lips.
Finally he fell to his knees and then toppled to the side. Solon shuddered and then died, eyes gazing sightlessly as his lifeblood welled around his body. Chloe looked at her shaking hands. The Oracle’s prophecy had been fulfilled. The sun king had died in the thirty-first year of his reign. But it hadn’t been the sickness in his chest that killed him.
Hearing a roar of frustration, Chloe saw the one-eyed dragon release its grip on its enemy and fly away. Unable to open the ark himself, Triton’s plans had been defeated. The black dragon came down from the sky, flying unsteadily to the cleared space between the temple’s columns, one of its wings moving with jerky movements. It shuddered as it finally landed a short distance from the cliff edge.
The creature’s chest heaved as the angular eyes regarded Chloe with strange sorrow. Despite the fact that it had saved her life, she felt a shiver of fear as she looked at it.
Mist suddenly clouded the black-scaled dragon, thickening before it began to shimmer. She forced herself to approach. She didn’t know which of the eldren it was who had saved her, but she had to thank him.
But when the mist cleared, Chloe felt her entire world crashing down around her. She knew her face was filled with horror. She refused to believe what she was seeing.
Dion lay facing her with his head on his arms. There were gashes on his face and lower arms, and his tunic pressed up against more wounds on his body. He shivered and trembled.
He had his eyes closed, but then they opened wide.
He was looking at her.
‘Dion . . .’ Chloe said. She didn’t know what she was going to say next.
He clambered to his feet. His white tunic was red with blood. His dread-filled eyes met hers and then he looked at the cliff edge.
‘No!’ Chloe cried.
He ran to the precipice and leaped off. Chloe told her muscles to move but she stood transfixed. She waited for the splash as his body struck the surging sea far below.
But it never came.
62
The journey from the Temple of Aldus to the base of the stairway embedded in the cliff seemed to take an eternity. Chloe was forced to pause every few steps, gasping for breath and fighting a trembling in her limbs that wouldn’t stop.
When she completed her descent she put a hand to her mouth.
Bodies lay scattered around the agora and along the summit of the sloped bastion, too many for her mind to encompass. Soldiers of three nations littered the city’s main square, their faces twisted in final expressions of agony. Phalesia had survived, but at a terrible cost. Chloe wondered if the horror would ever end.
She stumbled to the embankment and saw Captain Amos, an ugly swelling on his forehead, issuing orders to his men. Concern filled his face as he saw Chloe approach.
‘The sun king’s body is up there,’ Chloe whispered.
‘Chloe . . . Are you all right?’
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Chloe finally nodded. She straightened and took hold of herself as Amos called out to some of his men, sending them up the cliff.
‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘How did the sun king die?’
Seeing a familiar figure, Amos beckoned, and Chloe saw her father rushing forward.
‘Daughter!’ Aristocles cried, alarmed when he saw Chloe’s blood-drenched chiton. ‘Are you well? You’re unharmed?’ He looked at her quizzically.
‘Where is the sun king?’ a rough voice called as a man who must be Nikolas approached. He scowled, his eyes dark under his bushy black brows, the expression fierce on his broad face.
‘He is dead. He tried to open the ark. Something . . . was in there.’ She drew a slow, shaky breath. ‘An . . . eldran saved me. It’s over.’
‘We must thank him,’ Aristocles said, looking around. ‘All of them.’
‘They’ve all long gone,’ said Amos. ‘But we’ll find a way.’
‘They don’t need thanks,’ Chloe murmured. ‘They just want peace between our races.’
Speaking these last words, her thoughts turned to Dion. She tried instead to focus on her father and her home.
‘Nikolas—’ Aristocles began.
‘King Nikolas,’ Amos admonished.
‘Of course,’ said Aristocles, bowing smoothly. ‘King Nikolas of Xanthos. We thank you.’
Nikolas nodded, but his eyes were turned to the sea, where the enemy warships were scattered across the waters of the harbor as they drew away. Chloe saw several captured vessels on the shore.
Noting his gaze, Aristocles spoke. ‘Kargan still lives. We should consider sending out a boat under a white flag to conduct talks . . . give them a chance to retrieve their dead.’
‘No,’ Nikolas countermanded. He glared at Aristocles. ‘My men will burn their dead. We’ll burn the sun king with them.’
Aristocles hesitated, but the army of Xanthos was in his city, greatly outnumbering the Phalesian soldiers, and he nodded.
There was silence for a time as they all watched the departing ships.
‘Do you think they’ll be back?’ Chloe’s father asked.
‘They’ll be back,’ Nikolas said. ‘The war for the Maltherean Sea has only just begun.’
Chloe shivered.
‘Sire! This prisoner wants to speak wi
th the king of Xanthos.’
Turning, she saw two crimson-cloaked hoplites escorting a stocky woman with short sun-bleached hair. The woman wasn’t in armor, instead wearing a loose tunic that was almost manly on her muscular frame. Her skin was weathered to a dark tan.
Nikolas turned and impatiently waited for the prisoner to approach.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘If you want to say something, speak quickly.’
‘I . . .’ she hesitated and then spoke again, more firmly this time, meeting his stare with a steady expression of her own. ‘My name is Roxana. I am . . . was . . . captain of the bireme Anoraxis. I am also a shipbuilder. I have no wish to die or be taken as a slave. In fact, he said you would give me a villa if I built ships for you.’
‘Who said?’ Nikolas frowned.
‘Dion.’ Chloe realized who she was. ‘Roxana. He spoke of you. He said you’re a good person.’
‘Right,’ Roxana said wryly. ‘Dion of No-land, the man from a small village on a tiny island with no name.’ Perplexed expressions met her words.
‘Xanthos,’ Chloe said softly, looking away. ‘Dion of Xanthos.’
‘So are you the father who thinks archery is for commoners?’ Roxana addressed Aristocles. ‘Will you give me my villa?’
‘A villa?’ Aristocles’ eyebrows rose. ‘Well, I’m not sure if the Assembly—’
‘Wait.’ Nikolas held up a hand. ‘My brother always said naval power would determine the fate of the world, something I think we’ve all learned first hand.’ He smiled grimly at Roxana. ‘Roxana, if you build me more of these ships, I will give you a villa.’
‘What of my men?’ Roxana persisted. ‘There are many with skills who were captured. Most were enslaved by the sun king. If you name them free they will serve you well.’
‘Any who wish to serve under you may live, but they’ll still be slaves. The rest?’ He shrugged. ‘We’re not usually in the business of taking slaves.’
‘I’m sure most will serve.’ Roxana grinned. ‘Dion—’ She looked around. ‘He burned two thirds of the fleet. If he hadn’t we might be facing each other on different terms today. Is he here?’
When silence met her words Chloe left the group. She walked to the edge of the embankment, following the summit of the wall, heading left until she was in a place free from death, provided she didn’t look down at the shore.
She kept her gaze firmly on the blue horizon. Kargan’s biremes were now distant specks. The nation of Ilea, proud center of an empire encompassing most of Salesia, had been humiliated. The sun king was dead but his position would be fought over by his heirs and commanders. The golden pyramid in Lamara would inspire the same greed that had led Solon to the Ark of Revelation.
Nikolas was correct. The war for the Maltherean Sea had only just begun.
As if on cue, Chloe heard heavy footsteps as Dion’s older brother came to join her. She examined his features as he approached. Nikolas and Dion were completely unlike each other. Nikolas was a full head taller than his younger brother and had black bushy hair with a thick matching beard. Dion spoke softly, while his older brother spoke with the rough voice of a soldier.
They shared the same father, but they were half-brothers, with different mothers. Dion had always spoken about Nikolas with love and respect; his older brother had guided and helped him for as long as he could remember.
But when she looked at Nikolas, Chloe saw a dark shadow in his eyes. Recent events had changed all of them.
‘Chloe. About my brother . . . I saw.’
‘You know?’
‘I wasn’t the only one. I know now what he is.’ Nikolas hesitated. ‘Where is he now? Is he dead?’
It was some time before Chloe spoke. ‘He threw himself off the cliff. But I don’t think he is dead.’ She turned to him. ‘Will he return?’
‘The question is, should he? He’s not one of us. His mother was always strange . . . I suppose it all makes sense.’
‘He is your brother,’ Chloe said with force.
‘He is,’ Nikolas said softly. ‘But perhaps he is better off now. Perhaps, away from all this, he can be happy.’
Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but then faltered as she saw her father approach, his arms wide and his shadowed eyes glancing from face to face with an expression of forced warmth.
‘It is good to see the two of you together. To survive the coming days our two nations must be strong. Our alliance must be a marriage between us.’
Chloe’s mouth dropped open.
Nikolas glanced at Chloe, then at her father.
He slowly nodded.
‘I see the wisdom,’ Nikolas said. His voice was filled with sadness and regret as he spoke. ‘I must mourn my beloved wife and son, but as king I must also think about the future. My brother is gone and may not return, nor do I think it right that he should. He is certainly not fit to be my heir.’
Chloe turned pleading eyes on her father, but he carefully kept his face turned away from her as he gazed at the new king of his neighboring nation, the man who had saved Phalesia.
‘First Consul,’ Nikolas said. ‘When I have finished grieving those I have lost, I will marry your daughter.’
Chloe whirled away, her chest rising and falling and her gaze fixed sightlessly on nothing, nothing at all.
The prophecy of the Seer of Athos thrust itself into her consciousness. The words, spoken in a sibilant hiss, burned as they entered her mind.
You will kill a man you pity.
She remembered Tomarys, her loyal bodyguard.
You will marry a man you do not love.
Chloe couldn’t fight the inevitable. The Seer had prophesied the sun king’s death. Her own fate was sealed. Nikolas was to be her husband.
You will desire a man you fear.
She thought of Dion. He had given everything for his homeland, and now he had lost everything he’d fought for. Out of two strong nations, he was the only one who came for her.
Chloe heard a soft voice behind her. ‘Chloe, are we safe now?’
Turning, she saw little Sophia staring up at her with wide eyes. She bent and pulled her sister into a close embrace, rotating so that Sophia wasn’t looking at the gruesome scene at the harbor.
Chloe’s own vision misted as she watched the waves crash into red foam on the shore.
63
North of Xanthos, in the land called the Wilds, a tall, lean man with silver hair entered an emerald glade.
The music of creaking insects and tumbling water mingled with the crash and roar of a distant waterfall. The glade was at the base of a valley, near a clear river that flowed over smooth white stones. Grassy banks at both sides gave way to an encircling perimeter of evergreens that swayed in a gentle breeze.
The eldran, clad in deerskin and bearing a crescent scar on his cheek, entered the clearing and stopped. The blue sky overhead was clear and bright. The sun’s slanted rays glowed on the high branches.
Despite the beauty around him, Zachary sighed as he resumed his soft tread.
In the middle of the clearing, an immense reptilian creature with shining black scales watched his approach with sad eyes. The dragon wheezed and raised its angular head before lowering it back down to the ground. Its monstrous form was muscled, its long body coiled with pent-up power. The wings folded on its back stretched out and elongated, fluttering for a moment before the creature appeared to lose will and its motion stilled once more.
Zachary made soothing sounds and kept his hands carefully visible with arms spread. He saw the animal docility in the black dragon’s eyes and knew the danger he was in. It was on the very edge. Once it became wild, there would be no turning back.
The dragon allowed him to come so close that Zachary could reach out and touch the angular ridges on its wedge-shaped head.
Then Zachary spoke. He knew he would have only this one chance.
He knew he was risking his life.
‘Your name is Dion,’ he said softly. ‘Your father was Markos
. You grew up in Xanthos. You have a brother, Nikolas.’
The dragon growled and the head came up once more. The huge eyes stared at Zachary, filled with sorrow.
‘Your name is Dion,’ Zachary said again, willing the creature to understand. ‘Remember who you are.’
He felt his pulse race as the dragon’s growl became a rumble. The midnight scales rippled as its body tensed.
Then Zachary’s shoulders slumped and he breathed a sigh of relief as smoke misted the air around the creature. In moments the cloud enveloped it entirely, and then the mist wavered in his vision, shimmering like a mirage in the desert.
When the smoke cleared, Zachary was looking at a young man with sandy brown hair, his head tilted, raised on his arms with his abdomen on the grassy floor of the glade. He wore a blood-soaked tunic and shivered with pain and exhaustion.
Dion’s gaze met Zachary’s, and the eldran felt his heart reach out. The wildness slowly vanished from the young man’s eyes.
‘Come, Dion,’ Zachary said. ‘Come with me. I will introduce you to your people.’
The eldran helped the young man to stand and then Zachary looked away, in the direction of Xanthos.
‘There is no longer anything for you in that world.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Huge thanks go to Emilie, Eoin, Sana, Neil, and all the team, both in the UK and the US, for simply being so wonderful to work with.
I’d also like to give special thanks to Ian for trimming and tightening where it was needed, and for straightening out the wobbles in this ship’s course.
Thanks to all of you who reach out to me and take the time to post reviews of my books. Your feedback matters. In this day and age, we’re in this together.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Anna Niman
James Maxwell grew up in the scenic Bay of Islands, New Zealand, and was educated in Australia. Devouring fantasy and science-fiction classics from an early age, his love for books translated to a passion for writing, which he began at the age of eleven.
Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) Page 38