55
A stunning sunset filled the sky with pale pink and midnight blue, the golden orb’s reflection tapering in a line that shimmered on the waves of the silver road. A bonfire burned at the midpoint of the crescent strip of sand, lighting up the faces of the hundreds of men and women standing on one side of the flames. Those who’d been with the Free Men the longest stood in front, while to the rear and on the wings were ragged former slaves, those freed most recently.
On the other side of the bonfire, Dion stood with Aristocles. They both faced the stirring crowd, which became silent as Dion lifted his arms.
‘My people,’ he began.
Aristocles looked at Dion in amazement. Where was the uncertain youth? Bold, yes, he’d always been bold, he had to have been to sail across the Maltherean and rescue Chloe from the sun king, but Aristocles had never before seen him like this. The young prince had grown into a leader.
‘I’ve always promised you that we would vote on the most important decisions, those that affect us all. Tonight we will be faced with our most important decision yet. The man standing beside me,’ he said, gesturing, ‘is Aristocles, first consul of Phalesia. He brings news that is grave to me, and that the other Galeans among you will also find dire.’
Dion paused to let his words sink in.
‘Mydas, king of Ilea, has sent a raiding fleet to Phalesia and Xanthos. This time the Ileans don’t seek gold, slaves, or dominion. They intend to punish these two nations for what they see as their humiliation in the last conflict. Despite the fact that it was the Ileans who initiated the war, Mydas believes he won’t be seen as a strong king unless he finishes what his late brother started. If he succeeds’—Dion glanced at Aristocles—‘the first consul’s homeland will be destroyed.’ He leveled his gaze on the Free Men. ‘As will mine.’
‘What does this have to do with us?’ a tall pirate with a shaved head called out.
‘Fort Liberty is our home!’ said another.
‘Yes,’ Dion said, nodding along with them. ‘Fort Liberty has always been the home of the Free Men. But we have more silver than food, and more men than places to sleep. We have a decisive force here, and we have the skill and the experience to make a difference, should we choose to come to the first consul’s aid. As for why . . .’
Dion trailed off, looking down at the ground, and the crowd stirred uncertainly. But then he lifted his chin, and his expression was firm.
‘Jax once told me his dream for the Free Men. He said that if he could gather enough money, he would buy land in Galea, and build a new settlement where every man and woman could enjoy the same liberties we do here, but build real lives . . . where we could watch our children grow without living in fear that one day an enemy fleet would appear on the horizon and destroy this place forever. We all lost friends when the raiders came. Eventually’—his voice was grave—‘it will happen again.’
Many among them looked to the ruins of the town on the hillside, thinking about the coming winter, worrying about the future.
‘The first consul’s proposal is thus. If we set sail immediately, and row harder than we’ve ever rowed before, we may be able to catch the Ilean fleet. If we come to the aid of Phalesia and neighboring Xanthos, he promises to find new homes in Phalesia for anyone who chooses. The Free Men will still be free, and Fort Liberty will remain in our possession, but we will be legitimized.’
‘What about slavery?’ Finn called.
‘Phalesia has few slaves, but those there are will be liberated, and earn pay for their efforts.’ Aristocles’ eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but Dion simply smiled and continued. ‘Our values and ideals we will bring with us. Those in fear of persecution will have their comrades close by, but I can assure you that Phalesia is a place where liberty is valued. The system of governance by voting we use here – it originated there. In a way, we will be returning to our home.’
‘Will you live there with us, Andion?’
Dion hesitated; he’d been thinking of the future of the Free Men, and hadn’t given thought to himself.
‘Yes, he will,’ Aristocles answered for him. ‘And he will be most welcome.’
Voices rose in the crowd as small groups began discussing the proposal with each other.
‘I have one other question.’ A gravelly voice rose above the din, silencing the murmurs. Dion was surprised to see Cob, standing at the front of the group, his face lit up by flickering firelight. ‘Tell us why you think we can trust the first consul.’
Cob crossed his arms over his chest, lowering his head as he stared at Dion intently.
Dion frowned and then the creases in his brow relaxed. He slowly nodded.
‘We can trust Aristocles because he and I know each other. We have a past.’ Suddenly every set of eyes was on him; every man or woman was waiting on his words. ‘I rescued his daughter from Lamara when she was held captive by the sun king. I fought at the Battle of Phalesia. My true name is Dion, and Nikolas, king of Xanthos, is my older brother.’
When a cacophony of startled voices met his pronouncement, Dion raised his hands and called out.
‘Like all of you, I came here to be free. My brother cast me out of my home, and I lived with the eldren in the Wilds. But I didn’t belong there either, and fortune led me to the Free Men. None of us can escape our heritage, but we get to choose how we live with it. I will no longer let myself be judged as different, for no other reason than that my father loved my mother. I am who I am, and I will never again let anyone tell me otherwise.’
Dion held his head high as the Free Men gave a resounding cheer, and then he glanced at Aristocles, surprised when the first consul gripped his shoulder.
‘Time is of the essence,’ Aristocles said. ‘You have someone you trust to leave in charge here?’
‘Yes.’ Dion thought of Finn. ‘But we still need to vote.’
‘I know votes, and this one is a foregone conclusion.’
‘You’re sure you can handle the Assembly?’
‘It all depends on whether I can be a returning hero.’
Dion looked out to sea. ‘Then let’s go and make you one.’
56
The muscular dragon clad in scales of shining silver flew high over Cinder Fen, well within the confines of the surrounding peaks. The wedge-shaped head craned as wings the size of a ship’s sails beat down at the air. Almond eyes roved over the land below.
Eiric was searching for what Jonas had called the heart.
He had said something about a wellspring, a pool, in the middle of Cinder Fen. As Eiric searched he saw a region of swamps with charred trees leaning at odd angles; there were pools in multitudes, the water as black as tar, dirty and viscous. Long trailing weeds lined the rocky edges of the fens. Gnarled trees clustered in forests and groves. Wildren roamed: packs of ogres with lank silver hair and the occasional giant standing head and shoulders above the rest. Distant furies congregated on fleeing prey, plummeting from the sky and swarming on a rabbit or goat, fighting each other for food.
Cinder Fen was immense. It was early morning and he’d been looking since dawn, the long shadows making it easier for him to read the terrain, but it would take him time to search it all and he couldn’t stay in this form forever. He was now approaching the very center, equidistant between the encircling mountains.
He decided that the last place he investigated would be a winding, steep-walled canyon.
Flying overhead, he caught a glimpse of a thin black river at the canyon’s base, fed by the swamps that seeped trickling water through the ground. Following the gully with his eyes, he couldn’t see a pool.
He put on a burst of speed, wind whistling so loud that it filled his senses. His powerful limbs clawed at the air; his wings stretched out at both sides as he soared over the canyon. He suddenly wondered what he was doing. He felt the urge to fly higher, to leave this place behind and search for food.
Eiric forced himself to focus on his task. Knowing he couldn’t remain changed any longer, he
slowed his progress, wings fluttering as he reached the end of the canyon and hovered. Braking his speed, he descended to a wide boulder. His clawed limbs settled to the rock.
He felt the familiar sensation of shifting, changing size and shape. A moment later he was himself again, a broad-shouldered eldran in deerskin leggings, with golden eyes and skin so pale it was nearly translucent, high cheekbones, a hawk-like nose, and close-cropped silver hair.
Scanning the area but seeing he was alone, Eiric descended to the base of the canyon, picking a path over the loose scree. He climbed down until walls rose up on both sides, pausing for a moment to listen, peering into the depths ahead.
Trickling water was the only sound other than his heavy breathing.
The thin stream here at the canyon’s terminus was little more than a rivulet, but he could see that further in, as the walls became higher, the watercourse was a little broader. He would only find out if he was in the right place by pressing on.
As Eiric moved slowly into the canyon, he stopped at regular intervals and pricked his ears. He wrinkled his nose; the air smelled of mold and damp. Black water slithered down a steep slope at his left, filling the sluggish stream that he followed as it weaved through the twisting chasm.
The walls became still steeper, closing in so that he was cast in perpetual shade as he explored, peering around each corner, his heart rate speeding up the further he progressed. He glanced overhead and saw that the two opposing sides of the canyon were starting to meet high above. The passage he followed was beginning to become a tunnel.
He followed the black river around three more bends. The limestone walls were now steep and jagged; the graveled path at the stream’s side led ever onward. He felt confined between the walls of rock and the flowing water, which was wide now, and so dark that he couldn’t hazard a guess at how deep it was. Surprisingly the chasm’s sides gradually became lower, now only twice his height. The summits began to draw apart once more, like a flower opening its petals.
At the next sharp bend, Eiric came to a sudden halt. He could hear voices.
His pulse racing, he crouched low to the ground. Creeping slowly forward, he craned his head around the rock to peer ahead.
He saw an immense circular basin, too wide to throw a stone from one edge to the other, well lit, for it was open to the morning sky. He would have seen it from the air but for the gnarled trees framing the rim, growing thick enough to tell him there was a forest on the higher ground. In some places the limestone walls of the great bowl looked melted, in others the sides were splintered and broken.
An expanse of black earth and muddy banks surrounded a pool of oily water, fed by the stream he’d been following. The pool dominated the area, occupying at least half of the basin. Its surface glistened, perfectly flat, without a ripple.
The gray sky overhead matched the smoky hue of the trees, and the pool was as black as the ground around it. There was little color to break up the dark monotony.
Eiric saw scores of eldren scattered about, walking, standing and talking, doing normal things. A pair of hunters skinned a deer’s carcass; several men carried firewood, nodding to a silver-haired man who sat by a fire, speaking with an older woman working with mortar and pestle. More eldren mended clothing, scolded younglings, and pounded root vegetables into powder. They were no different from the eldren Eiric had grown up with in the Village in the Wilds.
He frowned as he watched them, wondering where Triton was.
‘I could sense you a mile away,’ a low voice whispered in his ear.
Eiric whirled and saw a face right next to his: a bald eldran with a cruel brow and the sharp ridges of his skull clearly visible. One of Triton’s eyes was a wrinkled pit, the other as dark as the swamps of Cinder Fen.
Eiric started to imagine himself as a giant, but he’d spent too long in dragon form and couldn’t shake the impression of wings that would shatter against the walls of the narrow passage. Triton thrust out his hand and gripped Eiric’s throat, squeezing his breath away. When strong fingers clutched under his jaw, Eiric tried to use his wild fear to bring on his ability to shift form.
But his opponent growled and gripped his neck still harder, making him gasp. Even unchanged, Triton’s frame was the most powerful he’d ever seen on one of his kind. Lifting Eiric in the air, Triton hauled him forward, taking long strides. He carried him from his hiding place directly to the pool of black liquid and then Triton threw him forward. Eiric sucked in a breath of air before he plunged into the water with a mighty splash.
Eiric felt chill send a thousand poking needles into his flesh. Darkness filled his vision so that he couldn’t tell up from down. His legs kicked at the water, trying to find purchase below, but the pool was impossibly deep and, even as he struggled, he couldn’t bring his head to the surface.
Flailing frantically, his arms pulled at the black liquid, vainly trying to bring his body closer to the surface. His toe finally kicked into hard rock, sending a burst of pain through his body that made him gnash his teeth. His head came out of the water near the edge of the pool and he opened his mouth to breathe in a lungful of air.
More immense than any creature he’d ever seen before, a monstrous giant stood waiting for him on the bank.
Triton smiled as he pushed down on Eiric’s head, drowning him in the black liquid.
Eiric fought back, but his legs once more found nothing but an open void beneath them. His struggles became feeble.
Darkness closed in.
Eiric shuddered when something clicked around his neck, making his skin crawl with a painful prickling sensation. He sucked in a ragged breath as he writhed and struggled, and then started to choke. Ejecting a stream of water, he wheezed and coughed before he was finally able to think.
He was upright, tied to a thick stake embedded in the black earth with his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles fastened to the stake’s base. A middle-aged human woman, her face bruised beyond belief, eyes nearly swollen shut, hovered nearby and looked fearfully at Triton, who stood watching nearby.
‘Well done,’ Triton said to the human woman. ‘Now go.’
Eiric wondered at the sickening feeling and then glanced down, seeing black links connected one to the other. The human woman had fastened an iron chain around his neck. The contact with his skin was more than uncomfortable, it made him shudder; he desperately wanted it gone.
As long as his neck was confined, he wouldn’t be able to change.
‘Did you really think I would not sense you? I can sense all eldren, known to me or not.’ Triton’s lips parted in a malicious smile. ‘I am far more powerful than any other. I am your king.’
Triton backed away, and Eiric could now see that the other eldren had stopped what they were doing and gathered. They stood in a somber crowd, arrayed around the stake, watching impassively.
‘Behold,’ Triton called to them. ‘Eiric, the spawn of Zachary.’ He suddenly came in close, jutting his head forward so that his face was inches from Eiric’s. ‘I would ask you to bow, but a nod will suffice.’
Eiric lifted his chin. ‘You are no king of mine.’
‘I have the blood of Marrix,’ he hissed.
‘My father always said there are many who can make that claim.’
‘Ah.’ Triton lifted a finger. ‘But here I am, in the heart of our homeland, doing what no other has had the courage to do since my ancestor, Marrix, first created his horn. The result will be a permanent change to the way our magic functions.’
The broad-shouldered eldran turned to face the pool, speaking loud enough that the crowd of over a hundred onlookers could hear.
‘Our power stems from this land, and its ultimate source is deep within the wellspring. The horn was stolen from us, and we may never get it back, but it no longer matters.’
Triton walked over to stand beside the pool, peering into it, his voice filling the area. ‘I have been communing with the wellspring, and I believe I can find the great gemstone in the d
epths – the last fragile remnant of this land’s once-great power.’
His voice became triumphant as he lifted his gaze to look at Eiric. ‘I will then destroy it. Sindara will be gone forever, but we will be free. Free to change our shape for as long as we wish to. There will no longer be any risk of losing who we were. We will roam as far and wide as we please, and with such power at our disposal, no human will be able to stop us.’
‘It’s a lie!’ Eiric called to the onlookers. ‘The one thing binding us all, whether from the Wilds or the Waste, has always been that no eldran can call himself king until he reclaims Sindara. How do you know that if he destroys the source of our power we all won’t die—’
Triton strode forward, crossing the distance in moments, and smashed his fist into Eiric’s face. The blow rocked his senses, the pain so strong he almost sank into unconsciousness.
An ancient eldran, with wrinkled skin like parchment, so old his hair was almost white, spoke up. ‘What do you intend to do with him? He is no threat to anyone.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Eldren should not be fighting eldren. The attack on his village was wrong—’
‘Silence!’ Triton rounded on the old man, who furrowed his brow as he closed his mouth but continued to shake his head. Triton then turned back to Eiric. ‘I beg to differ. He has power, this one. And he hates me.’ His one eye narrowed. ‘Don’t you?’ He tilted his head as a new thought occurred to him. ‘Tell me, Eiric son of Zachary, where is Jonas?’
‘Dead.’
‘You fought him and won. I see it in your eyes. And where is your father. Where is Zachary?’
‘Gone,’ Eiric whispered.
Triton’s gaze suddenly left his captive as he scanned the area. Walking to a fire, he picked up a piece of flaming wood, bright red and smoking. Returning to Eiric, his dark eye flickered to the crimson glow at the end of his brand as he smiled.
‘What are you doing?’ the old eldran cried.
‘I believe you do know where Zachary is,’ Triton said softly.
Triton brought the smoking brand toward Eiric’s bare chest, gradually approaching his stomach. As the end came close to his pale skin, Eiric couldn’t take his eyes off it.
Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2) Page 36