Aristocles was looking out the window; his mind was far away. He had a cup in front of him and a jug just a few inches away. Chloe had been watching; he’d refilled his cup at least three times.
‘Father,’ Chloe said delicately. ‘You haven’t said what you’re going to do about the ark.’
Aristocles frowned. ‘Not with your sister here.’
Sophia looked from face to face, unsure if she should leave.
‘She should hear. She is also a princess, and one day she might be in the same position that I am.’
Aristocles let out a breath. ‘Fine.’
‘Nikolas is growing frustrated. Nilus is concerned.’
‘Nikolas may be frustrated, but he’s a foreign ruler, and the ark is ours to preserve or destroy. My dear’—Aristocles tried to give a reassuring smile—‘he may seem fearsome, but it’s all bluster.’
‘But you made an agreement,’ Chloe persisted. ‘You promised that if Zachary said it was safe, you would move the horn and make plans for the gold.’
‘I know what I said . . .’ Aristocles hesitated, looking down into his wine cup. ‘I simply no longer believe it a wise course of action.’
For a moment Chloe was speechless. ‘You’re going back on your word?’
Aristocles glanced at Sophia, who was silent but watching with rapt attention. ‘I’ve spoken with my allies. We agree that destroying the ark – the ark that has resided at our holiest temple for hundreds of years – is not a decision I can make alone. We are an assembly. There should be a vote.’
Chloe blanched. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.’
‘Well that’s what’s going to happen,’ he snapped.
‘Father . . .’ Chloe said, hurt. It was uncharacteristic of him to speak to his children with anything but kindness.
There was silence for a time, before he reached out and clasped her hand. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. He opened his mouth and then closed it, obviously struggling with something. ‘Chloe . . . I’ve . . . had a vision. From the gods.’
Chloe frowned. ‘What vision? Were you at the temple? Did the priests see it also?’
‘The Oracle of Athos spoke to me in a dream—’
‘A dream?’ She was unable to prevent her voice rising.
‘Yes, a dream. It was unlike any dream I’ve had before. The Oracle gave me a prophecy. If the ark is destroyed the horn will sound.’
‘But Zachary said—’
‘I know what Zachary said! Nikolas pressured me into promis-ing something I should never have promised. We are an assembly. As always, there must be a vote.’
‘And which way will you vote?’
‘That’s never been your concern.’
‘It is this time. If you campaign against what you agreed, Nikolas will find out. He will be vengeful, dream or no dream.’
‘I should never have mentioned it,’ Aristocles muttered. ‘All you need to know is that my allies are with me, and there are enough of us to decide the vote. It isn’t for Nikolas to say what happens to Phalesia’s relics, nor our finances.’
Chloe shook her head. ‘You made an agreement, at the Temple of Aldus, in sight of the gods, and you need to keep to it. Think of your actions, Father. What will Nikolas do?’
‘There is nothing he can do.’
‘Don’t be naive, Father. Nikolas has power.’
‘Power lies with the people,’ Aristocles said firmly.
Chloe was frustrated. Her capture, journey to Lamara, and time in the sun king’s palace had taught her the value of power, real power.
The power of strong soldiers and of men who ruled by decree.
10
Creeping forward, hidden by the undergrowth, Dion tracked the doe along the shaft of his arrow. Aiming for the heart, above and behind the foreleg, he continued his silent approach, quiet as a mouse.
The deer was in the open grassland. Dion was in a nearby stand of trees. It was going to be a clean kill.
The muscles in his arms tensed as he straightened and drew the bowstring tightly to his cheek. He breathed slowly and evenly. Craning her neck, the doe nibbled at the lush foliage sprouting from a young sapling. At the point when he was ready to release, Dion held his breath.
He paused. He suddenly sensed something . . . a closeness . . . the existence of another mind nearby.
I have you, little doe.
The sound of snapping wings crackled like a horsewhip as a monstrous silver-scaled dragon plummeted from above. The size of a large boat, with angular ridges behind its wedge-shaped head, rippling leathery skin, and clawed limbs, the dragon’s veinous wings were pulled tightly into its body, giving it incredible speed. Startled, the doe tensed and then shot into a sprint even as Dion loosed his arrow. The shot went wild as the deer bounced left and right, weaving like a rabbit to escape the terrifying predator descending from above.
The dragon’s claws were outstretched, jaws parted wide as it grasped at its intended prey. The doe leaped to the side, narrowly evading the clutch of the reptilian limbs. Wings fluttered as the dragon gained height and then sped forward; now it was a race, with the deer at full sprint and the dragon gaining on it as it dived. Again the winged creature descended and the jaws opened wide. Teeth the size of daggers gnashed onto the doe’s shoulder and threw the animal to the side before the dragon rose into the air again. The deer crumpled, legs kicking at the air before it shuddered and became suddenly still. In an instant it was fresh meat surrounded by valuable skin, rather than the living, breathing animal it had been.
The dragon glanced back at Dion, revealing almond-shaped golden eyes and an expression somehow gleeful. It wheeled tightly, wings drawing in as it landed near the fallen doe and arched its spine. It roared in triumph, wings folding along its back. It was a strong creature, youthful and glossy, with white teeth and rippling muscles, not quite as big as Zachary but that could change: Zachary had said an eldran’s power waxed and waned over time.
Gray mist billowed, enveloping the winged creature, thickening and elongating, cloaking the entire silver body. The mist shimmered, and then cleared. A pale-skinned, hawk-nosed eldran now stood in the dragon’s place, wearing deerskin leggings and a brown tunic.
Dion left his concealment, looking for his lost arrow and shaking his head, finally finding the shaft embedded in the soft grassland. By the time he’d reached his friend, Eiric had already dragged the doe to a nearby oak and was kneeling at its side.
‘You stole my kill,’ Dion said.
With an expert slice from the obsidian knife he wore at his belt, the eldran cut the deer’s throat. Blood welled from the gash, spilling out onto the surrounding grass.
‘You had your chance,’ Eiric said. He grinned up at him. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll learn one day.’
‘Learn?’ Dion’s eyes narrowed. ‘I would have killed it quickly. You made it run, the meat’s going to be as tough as leather. You’ve got no finesse. Who taught you how to hunt?’
Eiric laughed. ‘You’re just jealous. Pass me your rope. We’ll hang it up overnight to drain the blood.’ He glanced up at the oak’s lofty branches. ‘We’ll need it high to keep the wolves away.’
Dion slipped a coiled rope off his shoulder and tossed it to Zachary’s son. He watched his friend work for a time, his irritation finally melting away; to the eldren the only animal that could be claimed was a dead one. A thought occurred to him as he suddenly remembered the strange voice he’d heard inside his head. ‘I think I sensed you, just before you struck. I think I felt something.’
‘Really?’ Eiric looked up from tying the rope around the deer’s hindquarters. His eyes widened in mock surprise as he stopped what he was doing. ‘You do feel something. I can tell.’ He chuckled and resumed his work. ‘Shame. I’ve killed six deer to your four in the last week. And please, remind me of the week before?’
‘I mean it,’ Dion said seriously. ‘I thought you’d gone farther afield. But then when you came just now . . .’
Eiric finished tying the
rope around the deer and straightened. ‘I told you, given time among us, you’ll learn.’
He passed the rope to Dion, who deftly looped the end over an overhead branch while Eiric wiped his hands on the grass. Grunting as he pulled, Dion soon had the doe in the air, her blank eyes staring at the ground far below.
‘So where have you been all day?’ Dion asked.
Eiric’s golden eyes were grave now as he watched Dion tie the rope around the trunk to finish it all off. ‘Looking for Jonas. After he lost his family . . . Father’s worried that he’s turned wild. We have a saying: grief brings out the beast inside.’ The eldran’s expression darkened. ‘If he doesn’t turn up soon, we may have to search Cinder Fen.’
Seeing Dion’s puzzled expression, he continued. ‘If Jonas is still himself he should have come home long ago. It’s hard to say how the wildren think, or if they do at all, but there is no doubt they’re drawn to Cinder Fen.’ The tone of his voice lowered. ‘We must know.’
Dion knew Jonas from the Village, but he didn’t know him well. He clasped his friend’s shoulder. ‘There are many reasons to be missing,’ he said. ‘Often the answer is simple. He could just be grieving.’
‘I know.’ Eiric nodded.
‘I wish I could help . . .’
‘You can.’ Eiric met his eyes. ‘Change your shape and fly with me.’
‘I can’t . . .’
‘You can. You only need to let go.’
‘That’s what your father keeps telling me.’ Dion tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. ‘You’d both be as out of place in a human city as I am in the Village.’
Eiric smiled. ‘Out of place? I’d be more than that. Despite what you think, I do understand.’ He gave Dion a sympathetic look. ‘But have you ever asked yourself what you want? Did you choose to join us, or did you have no other choice? I consider you a friend, and I am glad to have you with us, we all are. But finding your place in the world is something only you can do.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me,’ Dion said.
Eiric gestured up at the sky. ‘If you can’t change yourself, why not try flying with me? You will be able to feel what it is like to be high in the sky, free as a bird. Father said you have flown on his back before.’ He smiled. ‘We can continue our hunt. Perhaps together we will have a good combination of my power and what did you call it . . . your . . . finesse?’
Strong wings pushed at the air underneath, forcing the dragon’s lean body to lift, leaving the landscape of undulating grassland and forested hills far below. Dion felt the sensation of his stomach climbing into his mouth and then dropping back down again with every beat. Tightly gripping the protuberances behind Eiric’s angular head, he leaned forward and clutched with his knees as he prayed to every one of the gods that he wouldn’t fall off.
The dragon increased speed, soaring through the air until the howling wind rushed past Dion’s ears and he found himself constantly blinking to clear the tears. The scaled body tilted, gradually at first, and then more and more as it executed a rotation, turning on the tip of a veined wing.
Dion felt himself slipping.
The dragon that was Eiric was turning so tightly that the wings were nearly lined up vertically. Dion knew his senses must be deceiving him, but then his eyes went wide with shock; suddenly he was sliding. He tried to clutch tighter onto the ridges with his hands, to squeeze on the leathery flanks with his knees, but he was at such a sharp angle that gravity was stronger than his ability to hold fast. At any moment he would fall. He wondered fleetingly if Eiric planned to make him tumble off, scrabbling at the sky, screaming as his legs and arms kicked, until he transformed out of sheer terror and became a dragon himself.
Holding his breath, Dion resisted the urge to shut his eyes. The feeling was terrifying and exhilarating. He tried to focus on the thrill, to let happen what may. To drive away the terror he cried out, and then the dragon began to complete its turn, slowly tilting back to the horizontal. Dion’s fear of slipping subsided. He finally understood what Eiric was doing.
Eiric was showing him the joy of changing. An eldran’s ability to alter form wasn’t all about fighting, hunting, and the risk of turning wild. Nor was it about the ability to sense one another or to communicate without speech. Eldren could become serpents, and explore the ocean depths, encountering whales, sharks, and turtles. They could become giants, more powerful than the biggest bear, able to roam other beasts’ terrain with impunity. They could become winged creatures, viewing the world from a lofty height, wheeling and swooping, soaring and simply watching.
Dion’s fear melted away. He was with his friend, his only friend, a man who happened to be an eldran. He was with one of his people.
The dragon was now flying straight ahead, wings sweeping up and down with long, leisurely movements. The outstretched wings then became still for a time, effortlessly coasting. As the soaring flight took Dion high above the occasional clouds, he finally had the courage to look down and gain an appreciation for how swiftly he’d come to entirely new surroundings.
Far below he could see the valley leading to the maze-like canyon where he’d encountered the bear. The trees of the forest looked like blades of grass, despite the fact that they were the same huge trees that surrounded the Village. Taking in the vista, Dion was surprised to feel disappointment when the dragon began to lose height. He guessed that Eiric needed to rest after being changed for so long.
The ground now approached at speed, Eiric choosing to land on a flat region of smooth rock, halfway up the valley slope. Dion braced himself but the sweeping wings beat down at the ground at the last minute, slowing the rate of descent so that the clawed feet touched down with the slightest jolt. Knowing the eldran would be anxious to shift back to his normal shape, Dion slipped off swiftly while mist clouded the dragon’s body. The mist shimmered. A moment later Eiric stood in its place, smiling at Dion and panting.
‘Well?’
‘I can see the attraction,’ Dion said, returning the smile.
‘You need to experience it first hand.’ Eric glanced at the nearby forest. ‘Another day though. We’re only an hour’s walk from the Village. I shouldn’t risk changing more today . . .’ He trailed off as his eyes became unfocused. He cocked his head to the side. ‘Wait.’
The hawk-nosed eldran suddenly looked up, scanning the skies, craning his neck as he swept his gaze across the surrounding peaks. Searching with him, Dion grew worried but then he heard his friend laugh.
‘Jonas,’ Eiric said, grinning with relief. ‘I sense him.’ He lifted his arm and indicated the distant mountains. ‘Over there.’
The rising terrain and peaks that grew higher and higher in rows were lit by the afternoon sun, but even so it took Dion a long time to see what Eiric was pointing at. Finally he spied what looked to be a large bird, wheeling in the sky as it flew in a direct line for them. With every passing instant it grew larger, and then it was unmistakably a dragon, longer and leaner than Eiric had been, with a wide wingspan to match.
Dion had never seen Jonas in changed form and without Eiric’s pronouncement he would not have known who it was. The silver dragon descended, scales shining in the sunlight, but landed a surprising distance away, shifting shape a stone’s throw from where Dion and Eiric waited on the rocky hillside. Now a tall and wiry middle-aged eldran with short spiky hair, there was something to Jonas’s manner that made Dion uneasy. The shadow in his gray eyes was still present, but there was a feverish cast to his expression that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t approach, remaining far enough away that when Eiric spoke he had to raise his voice to call out.
‘Jonas! We’ve been searching for you. Where have you been?’
Jonas still didn’t approach, and Eiric frowned, puzzled, starting to move forward. When Dion caught movement in the sky, he grabbed hold of Eiric’s upper arm. ‘Eiric, stop.’
Eiric shook his arm free, turning to glare at him. ‘Dion, what—?’
Ignoring hi
m, Dion slid his bow off his shoulder. He reached back to take an arrow from the quiver and nocked the arrow, swiftly pulling the string to his cheek. He sighted along the shaft at Jonas’s chest. It was a difficult shot, but not impossible.
‘Dion,’ Eiric hissed. ‘What are you doing? You know Jonas.’
Dion called out a challenge, brow furrowed as he held the arrow at the point of release. ‘Why are there others following you? Who are they?’
As Eiric scanned the sky, Jonas spoke in a low, deep voice. ‘Triton will sound the horn of Marrix, and he is going to bring my wife and son back to me.’
Eiric gasped. His gaze shot back to the eldran in front of him.
‘Even I know that once someone is gone, they’re gone,’ Dion said.
‘You know it?’ Jonas asked scornfully. ‘You know nothing, half-breed. You know what Zachary tells you and no more.’ He nodded at Eiric. ‘I can say the same for all of you.’
‘Jonas,’ Eiric said slowly. ‘What have you done?’
‘Your father lied. He does not have the blood of kings, and so he tells us there is no purpose in reclaiming the horn of Marrix and with it our homeland. But if we do, our loved ones will return.’
Dion murmured to Eiric. ‘Above the twin peaks, on the left.’
Dozens of specks now filled the sky, and like Jonas a moment before, it was clear that they were far larger than birds. Dion glanced at Eiric, seeing his face filled with horror.
‘You need to leave,’ Dion said. ‘Go as fast as you can. Warn the others.’
Jonas’s eyes were on the iron point on Dion’s arrow.
‘What about—?’ Eiric stammered.
‘Go!’ Dion cried.
When urgent need was on them, eldren could shift between forms as quickly as a man could draw a breath. Elongated smoke covered Eiric’s body and then the silver dragon burst from the center, propelled upward by wings beating furiously as it shot away, heading directly for the forest and the Village beyond.
At the same instant, Jonas began to shift form and Dion released his arrow. The string hummed and as the mist cleared he fumbled over his shoulder for another. The dragon rising from the cloud roared in pain. Dion saw a gash scored in its soft underbelly. For a moment he thought it would attack, but then it flew higher into the air.
Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2) Page 8