Cob then disembarked and stood on the sand, gazing up at the entrance to the cave. An olive-skinned officer in a captain’s uniform joined him.
‘What orders?’ Captain Garion asked.
‘Send out the scouts,’ Cob said. ‘Everyone else remains here.’
The captain left to see it done. A dozen lightly armored men with the lean bodies of runners raced up the bank and dispersed when they reached the other side of the stone wall. Cob waited impatiently. He had a strong sense of foreboding. One of the magi should have met them when they arrived. He kept thinking about the strange scorch marks.
Suddenly one of the scouts came running back. He dashed down the beach and put his hands on his hips, panting as he spoke. ‘I think you need to see this.’
‘Everyone stay here!’ Cob ordered. ‘Captain?’
Captain Garion joined Cob as he climbed the beach and passed through the gap in the wall, following the scout. Cob scanned the area around the cave. Immediately he saw that the black patches on the rock were even bigger than he’d first thought. Most of the scouts were out of view, checking that there were no enemies anywhere on the island, but two were standing in the midst of the scorched ground.
Then Cob’s breath caught. He realized that they were looking down at a body.
Cob exchanged glances with the captain and increased his stride. Searching the area, he saw that there was a second corpse, a dozen paces from the first. Farther still was another.
He reached the pair of scouts and stared down. It was impossible to say what the man had once looked like. His body was charred into ruin, with nothing left of him but a bared rib cage, a collection of bones, and lumps of black and red flesh. Nearby was a hoop of what looked like gold, fixed to two inches of wood, with the rest of the pole now ash. A piece of white cloth fluttered in the breeze.
‘We’re too late,’ Cob muttered.
Shaking his head, he moved on to the next body. This man was more recognizable as one of the Oracle’s magi. He wore a white robe over his gaunt frame and had sunken cheeks, giving his face an uncanny sharpness. His eyes were wide and staring. Rows of gashes on his shoulders made it clear that he’d been the victim of a dragon. His head was bent at an odd angle.
Cob saw a scout running from the mouth of the cave. ‘The Oracle . . .’ The scout’s face was filled with horror. ‘They killed her too. She’s . . .’ The scout paled. ‘She’s been burned to death. There’s nothing left of her.’
Cob swallowed. The Oracle of Athos had been a force in his father’s day, and in his grandfather’s before that. People prayed to her and made offerings at her temples scattered throughout the land. Now, she was gone.
‘Who could do such a thing? To kill the Oracle . . .’ Captain Garion sounded shaken.
Cob looked again at the body at his feet and pointed at the dead man’s staff. An iron claw was fastened to its end, and it was whole and undamaged. ‘Take the staff.’
Cob moved on to the next corpse and saw that this magus had been speared through the throat. Then he heard a shout. A scout was standing over the last of the bodies and waving. Cob heard his words, carried on the wind.
‘He’s alive!’
Cob’s men swiftly assembled a stretcher and carried the magus down to the shore. He writhed and groaned as they moved him while his breath wheezed in his chest. They laid him down on the beach, then Cob crouched at his side and wondered what to do.
The magus’s face and body were badly burned on his left side, and one of his eyes was now a red, puckered socket. His bald scalp was raw, with the skin peeling away. But he was conscious, staring up at Cob with his one good eye.
‘What is your name, magus?’ Cob asked.
‘Zee . . .’ the magus croaked. ‘Zedo.’
‘What happened here?’
‘Attack . . .’ Zedo drifted off, and his eye slowly closed.
Cob thought about Chloe. The wounded magus was likely one of her teachers. Dion had charged Cob to secure the island, but the damage was already done; there was no purpose in leaving a contingent of soldiers now. He thought furiously. Dion also wanted Cob to take a load of ballistae to Fort Liberty.
‘What should we do with him?’ Captain Garion asked.
Cob straightened and made a decision. ‘Phalesia is closer than Xanthos and they have better healers,’ he said. ‘We’ll split up. Captain, take him to Phalesia. Take the staff we recovered with you. Chloe will know what to do. I’ll continue on to Fort Liberty with the rest of the fleet.’
Cob crouched at Zedo’s side again. ‘Hold on, my friend,’ he said. ‘We’re taking you on a journey. You must do your best to survive.’
9
Chloe stared at herself in the silver mirror propped up on a table in her bedchamber.
‘I can see it,’ Liana said beside her. ‘Even if you can’t.’
‘You think I look younger?’ Chloe asked incredulously. She pressed her fingers against her cheek.
‘Not younger exactly. But there’s a glow about you. Sophia mentioned it to me. Even Amos said you look like you’ve been sleeping well.’ Liana hesitated. ‘Do you feel any different? Has your power changed?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Chloe closed her eyes and tried to sense the ebb and flow of the well of power inside her. She opened her eyes. ‘I think so. I think it feels stronger.’ She scowled. ‘We won’t be getting any answers now. Everyone who might be able to give them to us is dead. Zara would never have been able to get to the Oracle if the four brothers were still alive.’ She felt anger bring heat to her face. ‘If Dion hadn’t deceived me, I could have been there before Zara arrived.’
‘And then you and I would both be dead.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Chloe, you say there were four powerful magi defending the island, and they were all killed. What chance would you or I have? Dion saved our lives.’
‘He lied to us,’ Chloe said bitterly. ‘Now we’ve missed an opportunity to learn something about what we’re facing.’
‘Dion just wants to protect you.’
‘But never to love me.’
‘I suppose this is his way of showing that he does.’
There was silence for a time, before Liana began to smile. ‘What am I about to say next?’ she asked.
‘How am I supposed to know?’
Liana’s grin broadened. ‘Just a test. It doesn’t appear that you can now see the future.’
Sophia’s voice came from the reception. ‘Chloe! Consul Gaius is here!’
Liana gave Chloe a squeeze. ‘The future will bring what it brings, Chloe. You have enough to worry about as it is.’
‘I don’t see the problem,’ Chloe said.
Consul Gaius snorted. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t.’
His tone made her eyes narrow. As always, he had a brisk, curt manner, and the way his lips turned down at the corners did nothing to improve his charisma. Today his slicked-back hair was especially oily.
Gaius counted on his fingers as if she were a child. ‘First of all, only men vote at the lyceum. Second, some votes determine working conditions. How many hours must be worked each day . . . Whether laborers must be fed and given water by their employers . . .’
‘Workers’ rights,’ Chloe summarized.
‘Exactly!’ Gaius threw up his hands. ‘And finally, now that women are working alongside the men, they resent that they are not allowed to vote on matters affecting their conditions. Have you heard? Hundreds of women are in Lawmakers’ Square. They sit under the statue of Aldus, all day, every day. They have red pigment on their foreheads, which they say—’
‘They say it symbolizes that they are willing to sweat blood, if they are given the same rights as men,’ Chloe said. ‘Yes, I’m aware.’
‘And while they protest, production is falling—’
‘The same production that rose when the women started working,’ Chloe interrupted. ‘Consul Gaius’ – she said his name in a lecturing manner, echoing his tone –
‘I do understand. I said I didn’t see the problem. Just give women the vote.’
The middle-aged consul’s lips thinned. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have a solution.’
‘That is the solution! They’ve earned the right—’
Chloe broke off as Sophia suddenly dashed into the room, red-faced and panting. ‘Chloe . . .’ she said. ‘They’re asking for you. Come quickly.’
Chloe pushed through the crowd gathered on the pebbled shore. Soldiers of the city guard held the onlookers back; the unannounced arrival of a Xanthian trireme – one of their neighboring nation’s most powerful warships – was an event that would make people desperate for news.
The soldiers recognized Chloe and made way for her. She approached the vessel, as anxious as the onlookers herself. The gangway was down and a Phalesian officer was talking to a Xanthian captain on the shore nearby.
She then saw two Xanthian soldiers carrying a stretcher down the gangway.
Chloe’s frantic thoughts immediately turned to Dion. She stood frozen in place, unable to walk toward the bearers carrying the stretcher. Her eyes stayed fixed on the injured man. He was too old and thin to be Dion, but any relief she felt swiftly changed to concern as she saw that he was horribly disfigured, burned and blistered, with raw patches showing on half his face. She held her breath when he neared, and then despite his wounds she recognized him immediately. He was identical to his three brothers in every way, except for the brown dots on his bald scalp, visible in a place where his skin was pink but undamaged.
‘Zedo,’ Chloe whispered. But his eyes were closed. She could tell at a glance that he might never open them again.
‘Orders, captain?’ one of the bearers called.
The Xanthian captain turned and saw Chloe. He gave her a nod of recognition and came over, his expression grave. ‘Lady? I was told you would know what to do with him.’
Still stunned, Chloe thought quickly. ‘Take him to the Temple of Aeris,’ she instructed. ‘Tell the high priestess that Chloe, daughter of Aristocles, sent you. He needs urgent care. Quickly now!’
The two bearers moved into action, hurrying toward the agora. Chloe turned to the captain. ‘Has he been conscious?’
‘Not since we set sail from Athos. We gave him what water we could.’
‘He needs salves and soft bandages. It is the pain that will kill him.’
The captain hesitated. ‘Lady . . . I was also told to give you this.’
Chloe turned around and saw a Xanthian soldier with a staff held awkwardly in his arms as if afraid he might suddenly need to throw it.
‘You can leave it with me,’ she said, and the soldier looked relieved. ‘Why were you at Athos?’ Chloe asked the captain.
‘The king sent us to secure the island.’ A shadow crossed over the captain’s eyes. ‘It appears we were too late.’ He looked toward the stretcher bearers climbing the embankment steps on their way to the temple. ‘Will he live?’
‘We will do what we can,’ Chloe said, ‘but his fate is in the hands of the gods.’
Chloe sat at Zedo’s side. It was cool in the Temple of Aeris. The ceiling was high and the columns holding it up were spaced far apart, letting in the constant sea breeze. She hoped that being away from the stuffy conditions and constant motion aboard ship would help him.
He was on his back on a pallet: an emaciated old man with the appearance of frailty even before he’d been hurt. Fresh linen bandages enclosed his torso and pale pastes glistened on the worst of the wounds on his face. His breathing was becoming shallow. Chloe had given him milk of the soma flower. It was a dangerous dosage, but either the relief would help him recover, or he would pass without pain into the next world.
Suddenly Zedo’s good eye opened. Chloe leaned forward over the pallet.
‘Who is that?’ he croaked.
‘It’s me, Chloe,’ she said. ‘Don’t try to talk. You need rest.’
‘Chloe.’ His breath rasped as he looked up at her. ‘I am glad I am here with you.’
Chloe felt the back of her throat catch. She remembered the cliff at Athos, when Zedo had taught her to build waves that were bigger and bigger each time she tried. She felt a pang of conscience at the way she had left him, taking a boat and vanishing without a word.
‘Do not feel sad,’ Zedo said, his voice strengthening. ‘The Oracle planned it this way.’ His eye moved, and he saw the fire staff leaning against the wall nearby. ‘And her powers are now yours to harness.’
‘What do you mean this was planned? Why me?’ Chloe couldn’t hide the frustration from her voice.
‘The Oracle needed a woman to be ready to receive her power,’ he said. ‘She saw the hand of the gods when you first came to her, and she saw how the materia responded to you.’
Chloe remembered the gleam in the Oracle’s eyes when she had received her three prophecies. That moment had changed her life in more ways than she could have imagined.
‘She used her prophecy to guide your actions,’ Zedo continued, ‘leading you to flee your marriage to Nikolas and encounter the sorcerer Vikram. Only he could show you the Aleuthean path and prepare you for your battle with Triton. Only the pain caused by your lack of control convinced you to submit to our teaching.’
Chloe clenched her fists. ‘You say she chose me. But what about me? Don’t I have a choice?’
‘Of a kind,’ Zedo said wryly. ‘From now on, every time you employ magic . . . visions of the future as well as the past . . . will come too. But you can always choose not to exercise your power.’
Chloe glanced at the fire staff.
Zedo coughed for a time before resuming, and now his voice was weaker. ‘The one thing I know is that the Oracle saw her end, and past it, to what must be done after her death. She must have seen my death too, for she gave me a message for you.’
Chloe leaned forward. Zedo’s voice was becoming faint. ‘Your destiny is at Athos. You will enter the cave and take up the Oracle’s mantle, but only when your entire world is cast into darkness.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I do not know,’ he whispered. ‘But one day, you will.’
Zedo’s eye closed. The breath in his chest slowed.
‘Back on Athos, you said there was a flaw in the magic of the arch!’ Chloe cried frantically. ‘What is it?’
But he gave her no reply. Zedo was dead.
10
Far from the Realm of the Three Seas, twelve vessels made their way across the open ocean. A stiff wind built the waves to soaring heights, but also filled the broad, rectangular sails and propelled the fleet with speed. The power of oars meant the dozen biremes could travel close to the wind and always keep heading north and west. The drum pounded night and day. The slaves below decks had little rest.
On the Targus, the foremost ship, a stocky man with bushy black hair and a hunched posture stood with one hand on the mast and the other shielding his eyes as he gazed out to sea. Kyphos scanned ahead, always ahead, for his quest was urgent. He looked for storms, which might delay his rescue, and checked on the fleet’s bearing to make sure they were keeping the sun just on their left. The cool sea breeze stung his eyes, and his skin was already tanned. Around him men rushed to one task or another, but after weeks of sailing the crew knew their business and rarely bothered him.
Soon they would be changing course to head directly north. Before departing, Kyphos had spent weeks talking to the captains of his ships and studying the best charts he could find in Malakai. Of course the frozen land that was the place of his birth was uncharted, but this route promised following winds and best approximated the path of the Solaris, the ship that had brought them to the Realm.
The ship’s bell jangled, and Kyphos tore his eyes off the distant horizon to perform his hourly check. He turned slowly, counting the eleven ships following the Targus like ducklings chasing their mother. He knew their profiles well enough to name each in turn under his breath. His rule was that if he couldn’t identify a vessel, it
was too far away. It was imperative that the fleet remain together at all times.
Kyphos had just finished identifying his last ship, a bireme a quarter of a mile off to starboard, when he saw Magus Elmar approaching. The old sorcerer’s pale face was tinged green; he was definitely not enjoying the voyage and spent most of his time below decks. The wind ruffled his straight white hair as he leaned on his sun staff to help ride the constant roll of the ship. He staggered to Kyphos and embraced the mast like a lover.
‘In future, Kyphos, if you want to see me I think it best you come to me,’ Elmar panted.
‘I am in charge of this expedition,’ Kyphos said curtly. ‘I suggest you find your sea legs, sorcerer. We have the greater portion of our journey still ahead of us.’
‘I want to find our people as badly as you do.’ Elmar scowled. ‘Now, what is it you want?’
‘You said your staff can find others like it. Any connection you make would help us choose our course.’
Elmar snorted. ‘We’re far too distant. When we see ice, then I will be able to assist you.’
‘Keep trying regardless,’ Kyphos said. ‘I want to know the moment you—’
‘Land ho!’ the lookout called from the top of the mast.
Kyphos exchanged glances with Elmar and then strode to the bow, easily moving with the ship, while the sorcerer struggled to catch up to him. Reaching the forked bench at the very front, Kyphos put his hands on the rail and waited expectantly.
He was surprised. Just a moment ago he had been scouring the sea and hadn’t seen the slightest hint of land. They’d left the coast behind weeks ago. The ocean was deep and dark, with whitecaps breaking on the waves, lifting the ship up before slamming it back down again.
‘There it is,’ Elmar said from behind him, pointing.
Kyphos scowled; he still couldn’t see it. But then it came into view: a long, snaking island, devoid of trees, covered in a crust of bird excrement. It was low, without cliffs or hills, and every time the waves crashed against its shore, spray misted the air and water traveled up its sides. It was big – big enough for the fleet to make fast while the men aboard enjoyed a night on solid ground.
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