Iron Will

by James Maxwell

  Zara took another moment to examine the area. The mysterious flames still danced on the hills and framed the sides of the winding path that led to the cave. After the ferocity of battle, the scene was strangely quiet, almost tranquil. She walked to the man she’d killed and wiped her weapon on his white robe. She then gazed down at him.

  ‘Who are you?’ she murmured.

  He was a sorcerer, that much was clear, as skilled as any of her companions, if not more so. She had no doubt that without the advantage of the dragons their magical battle would have had a completely different outcome. But whoever he was, he wasn’t from Necropolis. Either he was of Aleuthean descent or he was something else altogether.

  Zara’s brow furrowed, then she turned her attention to the cave. ‘I’m going in,’ she called to the men around her. ‘Wait here and keep watch.’

  ‘Sorceress,’ a gray-robed man said, ‘at least take one of us with you.’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ she said curtly.

  Zara wanted to take her revenge on the dark-haired woman personally. If the woman was hiding in the cave, it meant that she was afraid. Zara had faced her out on the open sea in a contest of wind and waves and easily defeated her. The woman had strength, but breaking a spell was easier than creating one. Zara was not afraid.

  Fire staff in hand, Zara stepped onto the path of blue stone. She climbed the sloping ground and soon reached the shadowed entrance of the cave. Without pausing, she plunged inside.

  As she had expected, it was dark. A fire staff wasn’t as effective as a sun staff, but she nonetheless sparked the well of power inside her and sent a burst to the iron claw. A crimson glow, hot as an ember, radiated from the top of the staff and revealed a rough passage that appeared to be naturally formed. Moisture showed on the walls and trickled down channels on either side of the smooth floor. The tunnel twisted and turned, but always headed down, farther into the earth.

  Zara felt her anticipation rise as she followed the passage. At any moment she expected to find this so-called Oracle, who had wrought so much havoc at Cape Cush and nearly cost Zara her life. It was her quarry who should be afraid now. And if she wasn’t, she was a fool.

  Soon Zara could see pale light ahead, flickering on the stone walls. She rounded a bend, and then she came to a round, high-ceilinged cavern.

  She smiled.

  Sitting on the cavern’s floor, in front of a tall white fire, was a woman. She had her back to Zara, and wore a long-sleeved black robe, but her shape was undeniably female. She was hunched, staring into the pale flames, and long hair the color of the snow in the frozen north cascaded down her back.

  Zara’s smile faded.

  The woman she was looking for had dark hair.

  Zara circled the fire, her eyes on the woman the entire time. With the flames now between them, she studied her. The woman still hadn’t looked up, but Zara could see that she was beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than Zara herself. Her long, straight hair obscured much of her face, but Zara saw that her cheekbones were high, and her lips were full. The dark-haired woman who had broken Zara’s spell had been pretty, but her features were sharp, and her bearing was proud, almost imperious. Zara remembered the face of her enemy all too well, and this wasn’t her.

  The woman staring into the fire suddenly looked up.

  Her eyes were a startling green, piercing and intent. When she spoke, it was in a sibilant hiss.

  ‘Zara,’ she said slowly, dragging out the word. ‘You do not know me, but I know you.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Zara challenged.

  ‘I am the Oracle.’

  Zara clutched her staff tightly. She lifted her chin. ‘I do not believe in oracles. And you do not know me.’

  ‘But I do.’ The Oracle’s hissing voice raised hairs on the back of Zara’s neck. Her stare was unrelenting. ‘You are Zara, born of Reik and Astrid in the settlement called Necropolis. You were not always cruel. You were a sweet child, clever for one so young, who loved reading books while sitting on your father’s knee.’

  Zara’s mouth dropped open. It took her a moment to reply. ‘How do you know their names?’ She heard her own voice shaking.

  ‘You were not always cruel,’ the Oracle repeated, still fixing Zara with a penetrating stare. ‘It was the sorcerers who took you away from your family and submitted you to fifteen years of savage training . . . It was they who made you as you are.’

  Zara scowled. ‘Where is the woman I seek?’ She pointed her staff at the Oracle. The iron flared bright red, sending off waves of heat. ‘There is another sorceress. Where is she?’

  ‘I prophesize that you will not learn that today.’ The Oracle’s mouth curled in a grim smile.

  ‘There is no such thing as prophecy.’

  The Oracle sighed. ‘I grow tired.’

  She hung her head and seemed to sag, her shoulders rolling forward. She let out a long breath and when she lifted her head again Zara recoiled.

  Gone was her beauty; there was now nothing pleasant in her face. Her skin was wrinkled beyond belief, with deep furrows carved across it like cracks in old leather. Her mouth was shrunken, lips peeled back to reveal worn, yellowed teeth. Her eyes had somehow become darker, as if an inner fire had left them. The only thing that stayed the same was her hair; it was still long, lustrous, and white.

  ‘I saw this moment,’ the Oracle said in a rasping voice. ‘I know that I am now about to meet my end. You will kill me, here in this cave.’ She gave a dry chuckle. ‘As for you, Zara, would you like to know the manner of your death?’

  ‘No.’ The word came out, despite Zara’s belief that there was no such thing as prophecy.

  ‘The woman you are looking for.’ The Oracle gazed directly into Zara’s eyes. ‘Her name is Chloe.’ The Oracle smiled. ‘She is the one who will kill you.’

  ‘Liar!’

  In an instant Zara’s fire staff was moving. Without conscious effort, she drew on her power until the iron claw shone like the sun. She leveled it at the seated woman and released a torrent of flame.

  7

  Far from Athos, at a villa crowning a hill in the city of Phalesia, Chloe anxiously paced the terrace and now and then glanced at Liana. It was late in the evening, a few hours past dusk, and still there was no sign of Sophia.

  ‘We’ve searched everywhere,’ Chloe said. ‘She hasn’t been seen in days. No one even knows who sent the message!’

  She thought furiously. As soon as she’d heard that her sister was in trouble, she had come home as quickly as possible, but now she was both afraid and utterly bemused. The message had been passed on to her, which meant that its source was credible. But she’d been too worried, and too angry at Dion, to ask who it was from.

  ‘Chloe,’ Liana said. ‘Chloe!’

  Chloe whirled, and stopped in shock and surprise. Sophia was climbing the stairs that led from the streets below to the terrace. She looked as bold and unconcerned as ever, and even smiled and waved as she carried a satchel over her shoulder. Her clothing was grubby, and her hands were dirty.

  ‘Sophia?’ Chloe strode over to her. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘In the forest. I needed henbane.’ Sophia glanced from face to face. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You’re all right? You haven’t been hurt?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Sophia frowned.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?’

  ‘You said you were leaving for Athos. How was I to know you came back?’

  A new thought occurred to Chloe. She felt heat come to her cheeks, but took control of herself. ‘I’m glad you’re well.’

  ‘Of course I am. I’m going inside to wash.’ Sophia left Chloe and Liana still standing on the terrace.

  Chloe and Liana exchanged glances.

  ‘Dion,’ Chloe said. ‘He lied to me. It’s obvious.’ Her anger rose when Liana didn’t disagree.

  ‘He is only concerned for your safety,’ Liana said.

  ‘And what would
you do if Eiric made you stay in Sindara while he did whatever he pleased? How would you feel if he expected you to stay home and play the flute?’

  ‘Dion cares about you.’

  ‘He lied to me. He made me think Sophia was in danger. He convinced me to stay in his palace, just so he could stop me—’ Chloe suddenly broke off. ‘By the gods, what is that?’

  She was staring out at the sea. A streak of white light like a comet was rising from the distant horizon. It swiftly climbed the sky and reached a high point before it began to steadily arc back down again. It streaked across the stars, far closer and brighter, and its path of travel was clear.

  Chloe stood stunned, transfixed into place. The light was steadily getting bigger, coming closer and closer as it descended. It wasn’t fiery or radiant; it was soft and ethereal, like a spirit or a person’s soul.

  ‘Chloe! Look out!’

  The white light struck its intended destination: her.

  Chloe fell to her knees. She felt her entire body quivering from head to toe. Her mind was fragmented, thoughts bursting into shards as soon as she could form them. The power inside her surged.

  She was in a familiar place. It was the Oracle’s cave on the isle of Athos. She felt connected to two places at once. She knew that her body was on the terrace of her villa in Phalesia. But her mind, her awareness, was inside the cave.

  Walls of smooth rock surrounded her on all sides. The cavern was well lit by the flickering fire in its center. The air was rank with the sickly stench of charred flesh.

  Zara, the leader of Palemon’s sorcerers, stood across the white fire from a smoking corpse. She was panting, and her face was flushed with emotion. There was little left of the mysterious woman who had once shaped and predicted the future and received gold and jewels from kings. She was now a pile of black cloth and ash.

  Zara’s expression was murderous. She gripped her staff tightly. The glow of the iron claw gradually faded.

  Then, above the Oracle’s body, Chloe saw the ghostly shade of a woman.

  She was tall, slender, and beautiful, with blonde, rather than white, hair. She smiled sadly and looked at Chloe with piercing green eyes. Meanwhile Zara stood shaking, completely unaware of the hidden companions she shared the cavern with.

  ‘I have tried to shape events as much as I can,’ the Oracle said to Chloe in a soft voice. ‘Now the future lies with you.’

  Chloe wanted to speak, even though she didn’t know if she was able to, but then she felt a powerful sense of shifting.

  ‘Chloe? Chloe!’

  Chloe gasped for air and opened her eyes. Nearby, Liana sighed with relief as Chloe returned to her feet. She was still on the terrace of her home in Phalesia. Hardly any time had passed.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Liana started to pat her all over.

  ‘I’m . . . fine,’ Chloe said.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘The Oracle . . . She’s dead.’

  Zara tore her eyes away from the Oracle’s corpse and tried to calm herself. The woman’s words had unsettled her. But no matter . . . She was dead now. There were no such things as prophecies.

  Zara scanned the cave, obviously a place of magic. There might be more to learn. She wandered around its perimeter and then stopped.

  There was a fissure in the rock, concealed from casual view. The cave appeared to continue farther.

  With her slender frame, Zara easily slid through the gap, and a passage opened up again on the other side. A tunnel, narrower than the last and longer, led her down into the earth. The walls were smooth and glistening; she put her hand against the rock and felt wetness. Again she used her fire staff to guide her footsteps, ducking under the occasional overhang and navigating bends. But then the glow of the iron claw was no longer necessary.

  As she approached the end of the passage, she saw a light ahead, so bright it made her squint. Unlike the light of the white fire, it didn’t flicker. It was powerful and steady, without color, as if the gates of heaven beckoned.

  Zara lifted a hand to shield her eyes while she walked.

  Soon she became aware of a soft humming, buzzing sound. It was low, almost beyond the range of hearing. As she waited for her eyes to adjust to the glare, she sensed that she was standing at the entrance to a vast space.

  When she took her hand away from her eyes, the clear white light filled her vision. It was the purest light imaginable, utterly unlike sunlight, with no yellow in it at all. It carried no warmth, and although initially it made it hard for her to see her surroundings, it wasn’t harsh or painful.

  Zara took a step forward.

  Slowly her eyes adjusted and she began to make out detail. She saw a rocky, irregular ceiling high overhead, and dozens of stalactites hanging down like oversized dragon’s teeth. She was in a large cavern, naturally formed, with craggy walls and a smooth, stone floor. There were no other passages than the way she had come.

  Her eyes returned to the source of the light.

  Half a dozen paces in front of her, occupying the cavern’s center, was an immense white jewel: a symmetrical, multifaceted prism, with sharp angles and a diamond shape. It was larger than a man’s head and rested on a delicate stand made of steel, an object nearly as beautiful as the gem itself. The stand was made of multiple thin strands of gold, silver, copper, and iron, curling around each other and forming a depression to contain the prism. The jewel’s radiant glow appeared to come from somewhere inside, powerful and steady, neither waxing nor waning.

  Zara approached the jewel slowly. She was struck by awe. The power inside her was drawn to the jewel, and she knew without doubt that she was looking at something not of this world. When she reached it, she peered down into its depths and hesitantly lifted a hand, hovering it over the jewel’s smooth, hard surface, suddenly afraid to touch it.

  She summoned her courage and pressed her fingertips against it.

  She started. Her hand went through the jewel as if it wasn’t there. She tried again and, despite the fact that she was looking directly at it, her fingers passed through empty air.

  Zara’s sense of awe grew stronger. She contented herself with staring down into its depths.

  At first she saw only light, but she continued to stare and concentrated. She felt her awareness sinking deeper into the light, and slowly, gradually, she lost all track of where she was. The low hum that filled the room struck a harmony with the power inside her. Together they became synchronized, and the light developed texture. It swirled and merged, parting like clouds.

  Zara blinked. She could see something: dark shapes appearing and disappearing. The shapes had wings; they were creatures, flying through the ether, becoming larger and more distinct.

  She concentrated harder on what she was seeing. She was watching dragons, hundreds of them, with shining red scales, wings like bats, and gnarled bodies, like demons circling the gates of the underworld. She peered still harder. One of the dragons was coming toward her. It flew at the surface of the jewel with terrifying speed. In an instant it filled Zara’s vision, obscuring everything else. The dragon’s jaws parted as it lunged at Zara’s face.

  ‘Sorceress!’

  Zara jumped back and whirled, her eyes wide with fear. She saw a gray-robed sorcerer. He stood at the entrance to the cavern and had an uncertain expression on his face as he called out to her.

  ‘Finally,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know if it was safe to approach. We have to leave.’

  ‘No.’ Zara turned back to the jewel. ‘I must study it more.’

  ‘Sorceress, you are not listening! It’s after dawn—’

  ‘Dawn?’ Zara frowned. She shook her head. ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘You have been here all night. We have to leave. There are warships approaching the island.’

  Zara swore. She turned to the jewel one last time.

  There was something here that she was only beginning to understand.

  8

  The morning sun glistened on the rippling w
aves and bathed the island of Athos in light. Five triremes – sleek, powerful warships with three banks of oars – approached cautiously, sails down and drums pounding with a slow march rather than a vigorous run. Archers lined the rails, arrows nocked to the string. Six ballista crews on each vessel scoured the sky, ready to unleash their weapons at a moment’s notice. Cob had his small but powerful fleet on high alert.

  He wasn’t expecting trouble. The eldren watching Malakai would have reported any movement from Palemon’s army. But Dion had entrusted him to secure the island, and that was what he would do.

  Cob had sailed the Maltherean Sea his entire life and had traveled to Athos before. At first it looked much the same as ever. He stood up near the bow and cast his eyes over the low wall of stone that separated the beach from the rocky terrain above. Colorful flames littered the area around the Oracle’s cave. A winding path of blue stone connected the gap in the stone wall to the cave on higher ground.

  Cob shielded his gaze from the rising sun, and then his eyes widened. There were swathes of black, burned patches near the cave. It looked like fierce heat had scorched the ground in multiple places. He wondered if it was something to do with the multihued fires. It certainly wasn’t something he’d seen before.

  He knew he had to be cautious, and he waited until all five of his vessels had navigated the channel before he ordered his fleet to drive up on the shore. The drums pounded. Oars churned the water. In near unison, the triremes slid onto the sand, beaching themselves and becoming like stranded whales, suddenly out of their natural element.

  Cob bellowed to his crew. Everything had to happen swiftly now. The oarsmen hauled the vessels high enough to give them solid footing, but not so high that they couldn’t be easily launched again. The gangway sped out and armored marines holding javelins raced down to the shore, forming a wall. Archers followed and were soon arrayed behind the first line, staring up at the sky. Everyone stayed within range of the ships’ ballistae, which were armed and ready, swiveling one way and another.