Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2)

by James Maxwell

  ‘It is good that you have such loyalty to your men.’

  Kargan clapped Javid on the shoulder, ignoring the huge warrior’s frown. He projected confidence, hiding his concern about the delicate game he was playing between masters old and new.

  33

  The sleek war galley made fair speed with a chasing wind. The vessel’s name was the Gull, and while it was no match for a bireme, it had a seven-foot-long bronze ram below the waterline, a large square sail, and a crew of sixty men. Barrels and crates filled the hull from one end to the other: the Free Men had been provisioning in Myana and from what Dion could gather the vast quantity of stores was just a small proportion of what they were bringing back.

  He’d already met Finn, Gideon, Reece, and Jax, but the journey had given him time to work with an entire vessel full of the Free Men. They were a motley assortment of former soldiers, downtrodden peasants, ex-slaves, and youths seeking wealth and excitement. Wearing an outlandish array of costumes, hailing from every part of the Maltherean Sea, they shared an easy camaraderie even with newer arrivals like Dion. They set to willingly, but most had little experience with seafaring and followed the instructions Jax and Cob gave them.

  Dion was surprised to find himself in a teaching role, demonstrating the workings of the helm and the sail to a growing number of interested sailors, pointing out the stars at night and explaining how to sail by their positions. As soon as a crewman became familiar with something new Dion rotated him onto the next thing he was unfamiliar with, and made sure to take part in the less desirable tasks himself: doling out drinking water, bailing, and, most of all, rowing.

  Back muscles aching, he now heard Cob call out a change in shift and gratefully left his rowing bench to let a newcomer take his place. Stretching, he glanced at the palms of his hands. The skin was callused after days of pulling at a wooden oar but Cob was a fair master and Dion didn’t resent the work at all. He’d already decided that sailing with the Free Men was something he wanted more than anything he’d wanted before. There was nothing for him in Xanthos and even less in the Wilds. The sea was in his blood. He belonged with these people.

  Rather than sink to one of the few bare patches of deck like the other weary oarsmen, he saw Finn standing near the vessel’s prow and clambered up to join him. The company’s purser wore a broad-brimmed hat over his long hair, his features fine and delicate, contrasting with Dion’s tanned skin, broad shoulders, and square jaw, as he came to stand by his side.

  The sun was shining above and the seas were calm. A wide-beamed merchant vessel lumbered along on one side of the Gull while on the other even the sight of the colorful striped paintwork of the Calypso – under Reece’s command – couldn’t dispel Dion’s mood.

  Finn looked at him and smirked. ‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘being in my company seems to make you happy.’

  Dion laughed and shook his head. ‘You’re in dangerous territory.’

  ‘Speaking of dangerous territory.’ Finn pointed at something in the distance. Squinting, Dion saw a tiny island, growing larger with every sweep of the oars. ‘Fort Liberty. We’re almost there. Is that what you want to speak about?’

  ‘Actually,’ Dion said, ‘I want to know what happened, back in Myana, at the market. You tricked me.’

  ‘No offence,’ Finn replied with a smile, ‘but you had it coming.’

  ‘The boy?’

  Finn nodded. ‘One of us. We’re everywhere, not just out here.’

  ‘What were you doing, just sitting in that tent, waiting for someone like me to step inside?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Finn said, chuckling. ‘I have several costumes.’ His voice changed, shifting pitch, becoming sly and wheedling. ‘Marbak the wine seller can fetch you the same wine that graces the table of the king of Xanthos.’ The tone then lowered. ‘Araf the slaver can give you the choice of a dozen virgin maidens, all fresh as flowers.’

  ‘You offer slaves?’ Dion’s eyebrows went up.

  Finn frowned at him. ‘We kill child slavers.’

  ‘How does that make you money?’

  ‘It’s not all about money,’ Finn said. ‘Not even for me, and I’m Jax’s master of coin.’

  Dion was surprised. ‘The one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you, though,’ he said. He wondered how to choose his words, but then decided plain speech was best. ‘Was it all a lie?’

  Finn tilted his head. ‘Was what all a lie?’

  ‘The things you told me about the fall of Aleuthea. Was there really a fleet that escaped? Could they truly return one day?’

  ‘Never tell a lie when the truth will suffice,’ Finn said. ‘I know a lot of people, and I keep my ear to the ground. As far as I know, that’s what happened.’ He shrugged. ‘Although I must say a few hundred years have passed. History can distort with the passage of time.’

  The two men were silent as they watched the island, now large enough that Dion could make out steep cliffs and wheeling birds. He’d never heard of the place, but keeping track by the stars, he knew they were somewhere equidistant between the three largest islands of the Maltherean Sea: Orius, Parnos, and Athos. Lifting his head to look up at the top of the cliff, Dion saw houses on the summit. The view would be unparalleled.

  ‘How many people live here?’ Dion asked.

  ‘A few hundred.’ Finn glanced past Dion’s shoulder. ‘Ah, here’s someone who can answer more of your questions. I need to keep an eye on the silver we made in Myana. You can’t trust these rogues with anything.’

  Finn departed and Dion saw Gideon come to take his place; for a moment the dark-skinned man stood silently, watching him intently.

  ‘Actually,’ Gideon said in his deep baritone, ‘it is I who have questions for you, Andion.’

  Dion smiled, but Gideon’s impassive stare was unrelenting. He waited for his companion to speak, but as the silence continued he finally asked, ‘And what is it you would like to know?’

  ‘I would like to know what it is you want most in this world.’

  Dion opened his mouth and then closed it. He thrust aside the first thought that came to his mind, instead trying to think of another response.

  ‘A woman,’ Gideon said, nodding sagely.

  Dion started. ‘How did you—?’

  ‘Your face is an open scroll, and I have read many faces and even more texts. What is her name?’

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Tell me her name.’ The words came out as an order, and Gideon’s brow creased slightly. With the tall man from Imakale towering over him, Dion found himself answering.

  ‘Chloe,’ he said softly.

  ‘A pretty name,’ Gideon said. ‘A Galean name. So tell me, young Andion, do you intend to leave us at the earliest opportunity to be with her?’

  ‘Is that why you’re talking to me? You want to find out if I’m here to stay?’

  ‘I take it upon myself to learn everything there is to know about every member of our group. Well? Why are you not with her now?’

  The probing questions were making Dion angry. ‘She is betrothed to my brother.’

  ‘Ah . . .’ Gideon said the syllable slowly, drawing it out. ‘A difficult position indeed. You are close to your brother?’

  Dion gazed up at the looming cliff, seeing a multitude of bird’s nests in the cracks and ledges. ‘We were close once. But I . . . became something he didn’t want me to be. He cast me out of my home.’

  ‘An older brother, then. The head of your family, with your parents dead.’

  Dion turned back to see Finn issuing instructions as he checked the contents of a barrel. ‘They told you that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You have the story, then. So you can tell Jax I have nothing waiting for me anywhere else.’

  ‘I will,’ Gideon said. ‘But I have a few questions more, and this time your words can be for me alone. Does Chloe love your brother?’

  ‘I . . .’ Dion frowned. ‘I don’t know. They may have become close, since I l
eft. He is . . . wealthy . . . powerful.’

  ‘No.’ Gideon shook his head. ‘That is not how the heart of a woman works. Did she ever love you?’

  Dion’s voice was low now, little more than a whisper. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And does she know how you feel?’

  An image came to his mind, a memory of being with Chloe in the water, their faces close together, their bodies closer still. She’d told him she didn’t care what he was, that it didn’t matter.

  And he’d told her to go.

  ‘No. I never told her.’

  ‘Then, my friend, may I offer you some advice? Leave this group. Go back to your home, and find Chloe before she is married to your brother. Tell her how you feel.’

  ‘It’s too late,’ Dion said, looking away. ‘They would be married by now.’

  ‘I am sorry. My advice is now thus. Learn from this mistake, for a mistake it was. You failed. The next time you have an opportunity for happiness, you must take it.’

  The fleet of three vessels now approached a headland, the war galley in the lead. Gideon clasped Dion’s shoulder, then left him alone at the bow. Cob ordered the oarsmen to slow and the fleet rounded the promontory. Glancing at the two flanking vessels – the Calypso and the wide-bellied merchant ship – Dion saw Jax on the deck of the merchantman, giving orders to reef the sails as the Calypso hung back to give the larger ships priority.

  Dion turned his attention to Fort Liberty as the harbor came into view.

  The island was lopsided, with steep cliffs at the rear descending to a crescent cove, half a mile wide. The twin headlands at either end of the strip of white sandy shore jutted out like fingers, and Dion saw catapults at each promontory, guarding the small harbor. Rows of houses with stilts at the front and open balconies leaned back against the hillside. Treetops at the summit told him there was a small forest, mostly hidden from view.

  Half a dozen vessels of all shapes and sizes bobbed in the deeper water within range of the catapults. As the war galley’s sail dropped and it approached the shore on oars alone, Dion saw two beached vessels at the far end, each significantly bigger than the Gull; with a start he realized they were Ilean biremes.

  Fort Liberty was small and defensible. The settlement’s population was evidently large enough for the pirates to be able to draw on a range of skills from the inhabitants. Though many of the boats were cargo vessels rather than warships, Jax could nonetheless mount a sizeable force.

  Dion wondered if he was looking at his new home.

  34

  ‘Do you need the articles to be read to you?’ Jax asked.

  The leader of the Free Men’s genuine expression told Dion he wasn’t being condescending.

  ‘No, it’s fine, I can read,’ Dion said. ‘I’ve finished.’

  He was in Fort Liberty’s sole temple and the only structure to be made of mud brick and stone rather than wood. It was also the closest building to the sandy beach: a general-purpose meeting hall and house of prayer.

  Dion was facing the lines of text that had been cut into the interior wall with hammer and chisel. Jax stood on one side of him wearing a loose white tunic, the ever-present cap covering his graying hair. On Dion’s other side was Paolus, the settlement’s resident priest, although Dion wasn’t sure what deity he followed, for he had no chain around his neck and crude paintings of all the gods decorated the walls. A jovial man with a wide belly filling his brown robe, his face was dominated by his huge nose, which was round and florid.

  ‘Read them all?’ Paolus asked, and then hiccupped. ‘You sure?’

  Dion remembered Finn mentioning a priest who drank vast quantities of wine and smiled as he drew the conclusion. ‘Definitely,’ he said.

  There were twenty basic articles of agreement, providing rules for conduct between pirates, disciplinary measures, and division of goods. They also stated the freedoms Jax had spoken about at Smuggler’s Cove and even described a system of compensation for men who suffered injuries. Every man had a vote in affairs affecting them all and the right to carry weapons on signing. In return all were expected to follow the commands of their elected leader.

  The focus on votes reminded Dion of the system of governance in Phalesia, but strangely, the pirates were far more equitable still. In Phalesia only men could vote for consuls, whereas at Fort Liberty women could sign the articles and fight alongside the men. Dion had already seen several women crewing the Gull, shocked at first to see them wearing men’s clothing, but soon becoming so accustomed to the sight that he thought nothing of it. Slavery was also mentioned in the articles as a practice not only outlawed on the island but something to be targeted, with slaves freed on all vessels captured and offered a place on the island. Every man or woman could live, love, and worship how he or she pleased.

  Jax clasped Dion’s shoulder. ‘Any questions?’

  ‘None at all,’ Dion said with a smile. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘A man of conviction,’ Jax said. He returned Dion’s smile with a broad grin, dimples merging with the long scar traveling down the side of his face. ‘Come, Andion. It’s time to make your mark.’

  ‘Which deity?’ Paolus inquired.

  Dion scanned the walls, resting his gaze on the painted mural of Silex holding his trident. Chiseled marks surrounded the god’s depiction, some of them legible as names, others little more than crosses.

  ‘Silex,’ he said. The sea god was by far the most popular.

  ‘Would you like to make the mark yourself?’ Paolus lifted a hammer and chisel.

  ‘I would.’

  Soon Dion stood back from the wall, regarding his name carved just beneath the painting, realizing he’d made his mark not far from Cob’s name. Running his eyes over the hundreds of names he also saw the mark of Gideon and most prominent of all, Jax.

  ‘Dion,’ Jax said, reading what he’d inscribed. ‘That’s what the old man calls you, isn’t it?’ When Dion only smiled he clapped him on the back. ‘Welcome to the Free Men.’

  As he led Dion to the temple’s door Jax stopped, looking into his eyes. The leader of the Free Men was suddenly sober.

  ‘The code you’ve signed up to is important, something we all have to live by. We are far from simple raiders and thieves.’ He paused to gather his thoughts. ‘Most merchant vessels travel unprotected, and when they see our approach they find themselves faced with a choice: do they allow us to board or don’t they? If they believe we are cruel and barbaric, that we will butcher them out of hand, they will flee at all costs, or fight even against overwhelming odds. But if they have heard of us, and know the trident on our silver flag, most times they will surrender, for they know that the Free Men will seize their cargo and free their slaves, but we will leave them with their ship and, more importantly, with their lives.’

  Jax’s voice was urgent; his eyes conveyed his passion. ‘Do you understand? It is the rulers of Salesia and Galea who say we torture women and burn babes alive. They say this because our values give us power. At all times, we must live up to them.’

  ‘I understand,’ Dion said. ‘The common people must always know that the Free Men stand for something. The worse the stories are about us, the more we have to be true to our ideals.’

  Jax smiled and nodded. ‘Good man.’

  The pair exited the temple and Dion was surprised to see over a hundred men and women waiting outside. At the threshold, Jax raised Dion’s hand, lifting his arm high. ‘Our newest member!’

  The crowd cheered, and suddenly Dion found himself having his hand shaken and back clapped so many times that he wondered if he’d have bruises in the morning. Cob stumped forward, pushing through a pair of sailors to give Dion a rough embrace. Music started as a youth with a pan pipe played a merry tune, and Jax started filling mugs of wine from a barrel, instantly the center of attention as he greeted each man or woman by name and handed out a brimming cup. The short curve of sandy beach became kicked into a mess by shifting feet. Finn danced a jig while the people
around him clapped along. Raucous voices overwhelmed the sound of the small waves crashing on the shore.

  Soon, when everyone had a mug in his or her hand, Jax came over to Dion, interrupting Cob, who was busy introducing people to Dion.

  ‘Let him be, they’ll all get to know him soon enough. Here,’ he said, passing over a wooden cup. ‘Drink.’

  He and Dion clinked cups together and Dion tipped back his mug to taste warm red wine, tart and sweet.

  ‘Quite a welcome,’ Dion said.

  ‘Any excuse for a festival.’ Jax grinned. ‘To be truthful, they’ve all been without wine for a while.’ He toyed with his small moustache, scanning the crowd. ‘Ah, here he is. Finish your mug.’

  Gideon came forward and nodded to Jax and Dion. ‘Andion, welcome to our number. We have some gifts for you. Come.’

  Giving Cob a perplexed look, Dion fell into line behind Gideon as Jax followed. Climbing the hillside, they passed wooden houses with porches on stilts until they reached a locked shed.

  Dion remembered Gideon’s role of quartermaster as he put a key nearly as big as his hand to the large metal contraption fastened to the door. Frowning and wriggling, muttering under his breath, he finally managed to open the lock, and a moment later he entered the shed and then reappeared with Dion’s bow and quiver.

  ‘Take it. It’s not a gift. It was always yours,’ Jax said. ‘Signing the articles gives you the right to carry arms.’

  Relieved to have his bow again, Dion slung the quiver over his shoulder and checked the weapon over.

  ‘And this is your share of the booty, as calculated by Finn.’ Jax nodded at Gideon, who handed Dion a leather pouch that clinked.

  ‘Booty?’

  ‘Not long ago an intrepid traveler, a man bold enough to venture to Cinder Fen and collect a wealth of gemstones, was also foolish enough to try to sell them in a place where he had no friends.’ Jax’s eyes creased with mirth. ‘That man fell in with a roguish company, a group of pirates, whose leader was generous enough to give him his share of the plunder, even though at the time of its appropriation he was not actually a member of the group.’