‘Detach the ropes!’ he bellowed. ‘Push us off!’ A moment later the two ships began drifting apart. ‘Raise the sail!’ he cried. ‘Oarsmen to your benches! Get us moving!’
The sail snapped in the wind and the oars slid out, plunging in but pulling haphazardly until Dion got the men into order.
‘Reece,’ Dion said. ‘Reece!’ The stocky sailor finally looked up. ‘Take the helm.’
When Reece simply met his command with a numb expression, Dion cursed and ordered another sailor to do it. He then ran to the rail and called out to Cob.
‘Sail to the Sea Witch and tell them to follow. Find us a path through the fire ships!’
Dion then lifted his gaze to the heavens, praying to Silex that with the nimbler Calypso picking a weaving path through the fire ships, they would be able to make it out alive.
A scout ship blazed, sinking in front of their eyes, and with fiery boats all around Dion couldn’t even turn the Gull back for the crew. The Sea Witch bumped up against a flaming vessel but the captain was ready with long poles and buckets of water, suffering only a blackened hull.
As the Calypso found a safe route, the three vessels behind – the Gull, the Sea Witch, and the sole surviving scout – finally escaped the fire ships and turned back for Fort Liberty. Cob had saved them twice over, for in addition to his skillful sailing, without his warning they would have been enveloped and both the Ilean ships and the pirate fleet would have been destroyed.
But then, as the fleet of three vessels approached Fort Liberty, Dion felt cold fear clutch hold of his stomach.
This plume was unlike the thin streams rising from the fire ships.
This smoke was as black as night and billowed like a thunderstorm. Miles from the island the setting sun became darkened by the immense trail rising from the home of the Free Men.
44
Only when Lothar’s soldiers threw Kargan, Javid, and the surviving members of his crew into prison did Kargan realize that the Council of Five and Mercilles were united in the betrayal. As night set on a day that he’d lost a ship and over a hundred men to the flames and the sea, he paced his small cell for hour after hour, his rage and frustration making him unable to sit still.
There were too many prisoners for the normal jail, so the Council of Five had employed a compound that was once a training ground, located just outside the city walls. Every tiny sleeping chamber had been stripped of furnishing and converted into a cell, locked by means of a sliding bolt on the outside, with the entire compound sealed off while Lothar decided what to do with them.
Spinning on his heel, Kargan glared at Javid. ‘What manner of man doesn’t care about the life of his own wife?’
‘An angry man,’ Javid said with a shrug. ‘Either that, or a cold-hearted man of logic. Perhaps both.’
‘Eh?’ Kargan frowned.
‘Both your actions and the actions of the Free Men were based on an assumption that proved to be wrong: that Mercilles cared about his wife. We may never know the nature of their relationship, but we know one thing. He saw an opportunity to rid himself of the pirates, for he would know exactly where they were.’
‘That trap wasn’t just intended for the Free Men. They wanted us all dead.’
‘You and your men are an inconvenience. They don’t trust you.’
‘Lothar could have just sent us back to Ilea.’
‘It is better to sacrifice you fighting pirates.’
‘I know, I know,’ Kargan said, pounding a clenched fist into his palm as he reached the end of the room and turned around again. ‘Now what’s to become of us?’ He scowled at his bodyguard. ‘Don’t you even care?’
‘I care,’ Javid said. ‘I simply don’t see the purpose in what you’re doing now.’ The big man yawned and stretched, squeezing himself onto his bed pallet. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late.’
‘What’s that?’ Kargan held up a hand. He looked at the door; he could distinctly hear voices. ‘You hear it?’
Javid sat up.
Together with the men the Council of Five had kept as a bond there was a multitude of sailors and marines in the prison. It now sounded like they were all speaking at once. Footsteps clattered out in the corridor, growing louder.
Staring at the door, Kargan stood back as he heard someone sliding the bolt. Exchanging glances with his bodyguard, he wondered what was about to happen. Had Lothar decided to execute them all in the night? Were they being rounded up in batches and taken out to the training ground to be killed, their bodies thrown into a ditch?
The door swung open.
Kargan saw a craggy face he thought looked familiar. The man had dark curly hair cut close to his scalp and the athletic frame of a warrior, and it was clear from his leather armor and short protective skirt that he was a soldier, most likely Galean. He carried a sword in his hand as he scanned the cell and its occupants before calling back over his shoulder.
‘I found him.’ He waved to Kargan and Javid. ‘Come. Quickly.’
Bemused but not about to give up the potential for escape, Kargan followed the warrior and saw his Ilean crewmen thronging the corridor, emptying out of their cells and streaming toward the exit.
‘Help your fellows! Open every cell! Assemble outside!’ the Galean called. ‘You too,’ he said to Kargan.
‘What—?’
‘Outside.’ The Galean glared. ‘Now.’
The craggy-faced soldier disappeared further down the corridor and suddenly Kargan was surrounded by his men, all clapping him on the back and grinning as they rushed for freedom. Finding himself swept along with them, Kargan passed unconscious guards lying prone on the ground. Soon he was outside in the practice arena, breathing in dry, fresh air and watching as his men milled around.
‘Lord Kargan.’ He heard his name and, turning in surprise, he saw a face that stunned him speechless.
The older man walking toward him had a high forehead, with white hair at the sides leaving his bald crown bare. He wore a thick white tunic and his expression was rueful as he approached.
Kargan’s rescuer was none other than Aristocles, first consul of Phalesia.
‘What in the name of Helios—?’
‘Form your men up,’ Aristocles instructed. He then looked past his shoulder as the craggy-faced warrior approached. ‘Amos, is that all of them?’
‘Every last one. Quite a number.’ Seeing Javid standing nearby, the Galean soldier, Amos, sized him up, each man almost nodding as they recognized a brother warrior. ‘Who are you?’ Amos asked.
‘My name is Javid. I am Lord Kargan’s personal guard.’
‘You’re about to have your work cut out for you,’ Amos said. He glanced at Aristocles. ‘We can’t stay long.’
‘Understood.’ Aristocles turned back to Kargan. ‘Well? Form them up.’
‘I suggest we do as he says,’ Javid said.
Kargan nodded, still utterly bemused. He raised his arm and called out an order, singling out his officers, getting his men into order, lining them up into a wide formation. He then glanced at Aristocles.
‘Good,’ Aristocles said, coming close and speaking for Kargan’s ears alone. ‘Now tell them that you planned this. The Council of Five was going to have them killed, and you wouldn’t let that happen. Thank them for their loyalty.’
Kargan addressed the formed-up crewmen and marines, repeating what Aristocles had said.
His men cheered, shouting out his name as they raised their arms into the air. Kargan raised an eyebrow at Aristocles when he’d finished.
‘Now tell them that they’ll all be well rewarded for their efforts, that each man here has a claim that you will personally deliver on.’
‘Personally—?’
‘Say it.’ Aristocles met Kargan’s gaze.
When Kargan had finished, Aristocles continued.
‘Let them know that any man who wishes to choose his own path may, with your blessing and gratitude. But any who wants to reclaim Ilea from the tyrant will
be first among his fellows.’
Kargan spluttered. ‘Reclaim—?’
Aristocles folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. Kargan sighed. He took a deep breath and bellowed to his men, stunned when they met his words with a combined roar that made him worried they would hear the shouting back in the city.
‘Good.’ Aristocles nodded. ‘Now let’s talk.’
He led Kargan away until they were standing near the training ground’s main entrance where another pair of guards lay unconscious. Kargan gained respect for Amos; he’d single-handedly defeated every one of them.
‘What’s this all about? I would’ve thought I’d be the last man you’d help.’
‘You remember Nikolas of Xanthos? A big man with a black beard . . . He threw you back when you assaulted my city.’
‘I remember.’
‘Well, he’s become powerful. Too powerful. I’ve been forced to flee Phalesia. My fellow consuls are afraid of him; he’s already had many killed.’
‘And what does this have to do with me?’
‘Politics makes strange bedfellows. I want to make a bargain. I want your help bringing peace to the Maltherean. Nikolas’s power lies in the fear the common people have of Ilea. His power will wane if peace is declared.’
Kargan frowned, pondering for a time. ‘Listen,’ he finally said. ‘I hear what you’re saying, but Mydas can think of nothing but Ilea’s humiliation. He’s set on sending the navy back to your homeland and razing your city to the ground. You’ll never get him to agree to peace.’
‘Yes, but you’re a popular commander, Kargan. And Mydas is an unpopular ruler.’
‘What does popularity have to do with anything?’
Aristocles smiled.
45
Dion found Finn sitting on one of the highest cliffs on the lopsided island, shoulders slumped as he gazed out to sea. He settled himself down beside the slender man and sat in silence, letting his companion decide whether he wanted to speak.
‘So that’s it, then,’ Finn finally said. He turned and Dion saw that his eyes were reddened, with tears on his cheeks that he didn’t bother to wipe away. ‘It’s all over.’
‘It doesn’t have to be.’
Finn shook his head. ‘First Gideon dead, now Jax. We have no home. No king. No future.’
‘There are still many of us left,’ Dion said. ‘If we go, most of the Free Men have a future only as slaves.’
‘Do you . . .’ Finn cleared his throat, ‘do you know how I escaped? I hid in the forest, climbed a tree. I watched the few men brave enough to fight the raiders die. I smelled the smoke as they burned down our homes. I heard them laugh.’
‘You’re not to blame,’ Dion said softly.
‘Then who is?’
‘Mercilles. Did you know he was Jax’s father?’ Dion shook his head. ‘When someone hates when they should love, it’s the worst hate of all.’
‘I knew,’ Finn said. ‘I’m one of the few who did.’ He lifted his head as he met Dion’s eyes. ‘I’m glad he told you. It means he liked you . . . trusted you.’
‘He was a good man.’
‘The very best.’ There was silence for a time and then Finn spoke in a stronger voice. ‘So you think we still have a future? What will we do for homes? It took us a long time to build this place. And we might still have ships, but there aren’t enough to start raiding again. Everyone’s scared. The people left behind would be defenseless.’
Dion had been thinking on this very topic. ‘I have an idea . . .’
‘So you’ll be standing then?’ Finn’s lips suddenly parted in a smile. ‘Please tell me you will be. If I have to take Reece’s orders I’ll throw myself off this cliff.’
‘Standing?’
‘To become the leader of the Free Men. Marmat’s content as captain of the Sea Witch, and he’s too old to lead anyway.’ He snorted. ‘They’d never follow me.’
Dion opened his mouth to reply when he heard a rough voice call out his name. He and Finn both turned and saw Cob approaching.
‘Come on,’ the old man said. ‘It’s time to bid Jax farewell.’
Every one of the Free Men stood on the beach, arrayed in an arc around an old boat stacked high with wood. Hundreds of former slaves, retired soldiers, dispossessed farmers, petty criminals, and common people looking for a better life stood sober-faced and red-eyed. The smell of char still hung in the air. The final fire would soon be lit.
Jax lay composed on top of the pyre, facing the sky, rakish cap clutched to his breast. His handsome face, framed by the long scar stretching from his forehead to his chin, appeared peaceful. Dion remembered his last conversation with the pirate king, wishing he’d told him more. The Free Men had pledged to take in any man or woman despite their differences. Something told him Jax wouldn’t have cared even if he’d revealed his eldran heritage.
The priest, Paolus, had survived by hiding with his wine in the cellar beneath the temple, which, although blackened, was one of the few structures still standing. He said some words about Jax’s dedication to their cause, and his veneration for the articles of agreement carved into the wall of the temple. He asked Silex to look after their leader’s soul, and then he took a flaming torch from Cob and walked down to the boat. Lighting the tinder, he gave the boat a push.
They’d chosen the moment so that the tide would drag the vessel out to sea. As the flames caught and red spears flickered between the bigger logs, the boat drifted until smoke was pouring from the pyre, rising in a steady stream to cloud the sky. Passing the twin arms enfolding the small cove in their embrace, the boat continued to travel into the region of deep blue water. Finally it rounded a headland and was gone from sight.
Dion glanced at Reece, surprised when he saw the stocky sailor already staring at him with a dark gaze. Tearing his eyes away, Dion scanned the assembled men and women and saw many of them returning his look.
When the priest walked away, leaving a void in the middle of the arc of people, Reece stepped forward.
‘As Jax’s second-in-command, I am now leader,’ Reece said, folding his arms over his chest as he stood with legs apart and glared at every face in the crowd. ‘You all know me. I’ve been part of this group since the beginning. I’m here to tell you that there are going to be some changes in our organization.’
He scowled as he lifted his chin.
‘Having to vote on every small decision made us weak. We’ll still divide booty according to the articles, but we’ve been too preoccupied with freeing slaves and leaving the weaker traders alone. The reason Jax lies dead now is his feud with Mercilles of Koulis. But the feud was foolish. Attacking the strongest merchants, biting the hide of a bigger beast, makes us exposed to retribution.’ His face became grim. ‘As you’ve all seen for yourselves.’
Without thinking about what he was doing, Dion was suddenly moving. He walked forward until he stood a stone’s throw from Reece and turned to face the group. He felt the pressure of their eyes on him as he spoke.
‘Jax believed in the articles – all of them – with his heart and soul,’ Dion said, speaking loudly and clearly. ‘He believed in liberty and equality, with every man and woman having a place according to his or her skills and merits. It’s not my place to say who is chosen as Jax’s successor, but I made my mark on that wall’—he pointed at the temple—‘just like all of you. You think we’re powerless to repay Mercilles for what he did here? I disagree. You think it’s wrong to put out the call of liberty, to be a refuge for anyone persecuted in his homeland, for any slave who wants to be free? I disagree. If we want to grow and be strong, we have to stay true to the articles. If we want our numbers to increase, we must continue to be a beacon of hope. And more than anything . . .’ He raised his voice. ‘We need revenge!’
A roar of approval came from the crowd.
‘You think he can lead us?’ Reece spat on the ground. He raised his arm and pointed at Dion. ‘Listen to his speech. He can read and write. He’s a n
obleman! He probably grew up with slaves at his beck and call. He no doubt lost his inheritance and decided he could find a new people to rule.’
‘Jax was a nobleman.’ Finn spoke up from the crowd. Instantly every set of eyes was on him. ‘But he kept to the articles . . . He wrote them, for Silex’s sake.’
‘So,’ Reece growled. ‘You show your true colors.’
Finn shrugged. ‘I just don’t think you’re the best man to lead us.’
As the clamor of voices threatened to break into chaos, Dion raised his arms and called out. ‘I’m not saying I should rule. I’m saying there should be a vote. And I, for one, nominate Cob.’ He nodded at the bald old man, standing at the edge of the circle.
Cob smiled and shook his head. ‘Thank you, lad. But no.’ He raised his voice. ‘It should be Andion. He’s the best captain in our number. And . . .’
The rest of Cob’s speech was drowned out by the cheer that met his words. Looking to the red-nosed priest, Dion saw Paolus give him a nod.
But then Reece’s stentorian voice overwhelmed even the crowd. ‘I invoke article seven of the charter!’ he cried. ‘When there’s a dispute that can’t be resolved any other way.’ He drew the dagger at his waist, the same blade that had killed Fatima, and leveled it at Dion. ‘It must be resolved by combat.’
A mighty roar came from the Free Men and they immediately shifted as those at the back tried to get a better view. The arc became a wide circle with Dion and Reece at the center as Reece tore off his shirt and threw it to the ground, revealing a thick torso covered in scars.
Dion looked wildly around for a weapon. He felt dread sink into his stomach. He was a skilled archer but he’d never been able to master the art of melee combat. He’d taken lessons, and he knew the moves, but aside from the sole occasion that he’d carried a spear at the Battle of Phalesia, he’d never killed a man with a physical blow.
And he’d never fought like this.
Reece now faced him and weaved in a fighting stance on the sand as he waited for Dion to take a weapon. Dozens of men in the circle called out to offer swords and daggers, iron clubs, and even harpoons. Dion shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t fight with metal. He faced Reece but stepped back, keeping distance between them, feeling his heart hammer in his chest as he knew he was going to die.
Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2) Page 31