But they wouldn’t be stopping. Kyphos’s people in Necropolis needed him. There could be no delays.
‘Captain!’ Kyphos called back over his shoulder. ‘Continue our course.’
The island passed them on the right, and Kyphos saw a multitude of seagulls wandering its rocky shore, cawing to each other and flying about in search of food. Soon the fleet began to leave it behind, but then Kyphos turned, and his eyes narrowed.
One of the ships, the Shadrian Pearl, had deviated from its course. It was heading directly for the isle. The white rectangular sail was being lowered.
Kyphos strode back along the deck. ‘Captain! Turn us about. Take us to the Pearl. Bring us close to the other ships as we pass.’
The deck listed as the helmsman moved the tiller sharply, and the mast creaked as the sail adjusted to the new reach, fluttering and crackling before snapping tight again. The Targus turned tightly and then began to pass alongside the vessels that a moment before had been following in its wake. Kyphos bellowed across the water to the captains of each in turn, telling them to continue their current course. The Targus would soon catch up with them.
The distance between the ship and the island closed once again. Kyphos paced the deck and thumbed the head of the axe hanging from his belt. His lips were thinned, his expression murderous. Finally the Targus reached the Shadrian Pearl just as the Pearl’s crew was preparing to deploy a small boat.
‘Take me as close as you can,’ Kyphos instructed the captain.
Oars slid back into the vessel so that the Targus could draw near to the Pearl. Kyphos wrapped a rope hanging from the top of the mast around his wrist. When the time came, he ran along the deck and then flung himself over the gap between vessels. He released when he was over the Pearl’s deck and landed on his feet solidly, if not gracefully.
He straightened and then immediately cast his eyes over the Pearl’s crew. Four men had coiled ropes in their hands and were lowering the Pearl’s all-purpose rowing boat. ‘Do not launch that boat!’
They froze and exchanged glances. Kyphos continued to glare at them until they nodded and brought the rowing boat back onto the top deck.
Kyphos then cast his eyes over the ship. ‘Where is Captain Kalim?’
‘I am here.’
Kyphos whirled and saw Kalim approaching from the bow, where he’d evidently been inspecting the island. With olive skin and a triangular beard, he was a fishing boat captain from Malakai, a man who had proven he could sail a bireme and had the respect of the sailors he’d picked for his crew.
‘Kalim, why are you stopping?’ Kyphos demanded. ‘Were my orders not clear enough?’
‘It was just for a moment, lord.’ Kalim flashed his white teeth. ‘There is a wealth of guano, there for the taking.’
‘Guano? What in the names of all the gods is guano?’
‘That’ – Kalim pointed at the island, where sea birds continued to throng in dense flocks – ‘is guano.’
‘Birds?’
‘No, no.’ Kalim laughed, a mirthful, musical sound. ‘What the birds leave behind is guano. The soil in Imakale is poor. We must irrigate and fertilize. Lord’ – his eyes gleamed – ‘just a small amount of guano can be exchanged for a great deal of silver.’
‘I see,’ Kyphos said. He scanned the ship’s crew. ‘Tell me, Kalim. Who is your second-in-command?’
‘Hafa, lord.’
‘Hafa!’ Kyphos called. ‘Where are you?’
‘Here, lord.’ Unlike Kalim, Hafa kept his eyes lowered and was obviously afraid. He looked like he knew what was coming.
‘You can sail this ship, Hafa?’
‘Y . . . Yes, lord.’
‘Good.’
Kalim looked puzzled as Kyphos walked up close to him. Kyphos was the shorter man, and with his finger he beckoned Kalim to stoop to bring his face down to his. Kalim swallowed and leaned in.
In one swift movement Kyphos wrapped his arm around Kalim’s neck. In full view of the crew, he marched him to the stern and made him stare down into the water.
‘Master, no, I cannot swim.’
Kyphos shoved hard, throwing the former captain of the Shadrian Pearl over the side. Kalim crashed into the water and then began to cry out and flail with his arms.
‘Captain Hafa,’ Kyphos said. ‘Get that sail up and get us moving. Take me back to the Targus.’
‘Of . . . Of course, lord.’
Sailors dashed out of the way as Kyphos strode to the bow, and soon he had the place to himself. He thumbed his axe and thought about the people he’d left in Necropolis. Only the strongest male warriors and a dozen sorcerers had been lucky enough to leave on the Solaris. There were still so many women and children, along with their husbands and fathers, left in that place of cold.
The next time he had to make an example, he decided he would use his axe to do the job. Nothing kept men in line like a little blood.
11
Kargan, king of Ilea and ruler of a vast empire, walked along the docks of Koulis, inspecting every ship as he went. A barrel-chested man, with a mop of black hair and an oiled beard, he was sweating in the summer heat and wished he were back in the cool interior of his palace at his capital, Lamara. But some tasks were simply too important to hand over to others.
‘This one,’ Kargan said, stopping near an old, tired bireme with weathered timbers and barnacles visible on the hull below the water’s surface. ‘Scribe!’ he bellowed. ‘Add it to the list.’
The scribe scurried forward and took note of the ship’s name and appearance. Kargan’s companion, Lothar, head of the Council of Five, rubbed his hands eagerly. He was a wrinkled old insect of a man, with thin limbs and gray hair. But his eyes were sharp and avaricious: Lothar was notoriously greedy, and if Kargan wanted to buy his ships, he wouldn’t say no, particularly if the price was right.
‘Five vessels thus far. Are there any more that take your interest, King Kargan?’ Lothar asked.
Kargan glanced back at Javid, who was keeping his distance, along with the courtiers, soldiers, and scribes of Kargan’s escort. Javid watched impassively, thumbs tucked into his trousers. Tall and athletic, with thick lips, dark eyes, and wiry hair tied back behind his head, as always he saw all and said nothing. Only later would he share his thoughts with Kargan, whether Kargan wanted to hear them or not.
‘There is one other I’m interested in,’ Kargan said.
He resumed walking the docks, dismissing decrepit fishing boats, fat-bellied merchantmen, sleek sailing boats, and rowboats that were like children’s toys beside the bigger vessels.
‘I won’t turn down the gold,’ Lothar said. ‘But King Kargan, you are buying my best warships.’
Kargan stopped in his tracks. He strode back toward Lothar and raised a finger, nearly prodding him in the chest. ‘I lost half my fleet, as you well know. And, Lothar, you may consider yourself a canny man, but I know ships, and these are far from your best. They won’t come close to making up for what I lost.’
Kargan turned on his heel and continued his long stride. He finally saw the last of the vessels he wanted, tied alongside a pier farther away. He appraised it as he neared and finally nodded when he came to a halt in front of it.
‘And this one,’ he said. ‘Scribe! This is the last one.’
‘Yes, Great King.’ The scribe’s hand scratched furiously on a sheet of papyrus.
‘An excellent choice,’ Lothar said, wheezing by the time he caught up.
Kargan snorted. ‘They will all need a complete overhaul. Hulls scraped clean. New sails. Planks recaulked. But it’s a start.’ He suddenly turned to face Lothar. ‘Why did you come yourself, Lord Lothar? You could have sent another.’
Lothar looked at the vessel and then met Kargan’s eyes. ‘You brought your entire fleet with you when you came here. Fourteen ships, all crammed full of soldiers. I almost thought it was an attack.’ He smiled without humor. ‘King Kargan, I have heard all kinds of rumors. What is the nature of this new enemy?
How worried should we be?’
Kargan looked past Lothar, the most senior administrator in Koulis, and saw Javid watching the exchange. The bodyguard and former assassin gave a slight nod.
Kargan clapped a hand on Lothar’s shoulder. ‘The only thing you need to know, Lord Lothar, is that the stronger my navy is, the more I am able to protect you. You gained your independence, but that doesn’t mean I won’t look out for you.’ Glancing again at Javid, Kargan saw him scowl.
‘But is it true that you were defeated by men on the backs of dragons?’
Kargan barked a laugh. ‘I have heard that story myself. Listen, there is a powerful usurper in Malakai, it is true. But we were taken by surprise at the Chasm. It won’t happen again. Koulis is far from Malakai. You have nothing to fear.’
Lothar looked relieved. ‘When do you want to take delivery of your new ships?’
‘We will leave with them tomorrow.’
‘So soon?’ Lothar’s eyebrows went up. ‘You have barely arrived.’
‘Matters need attending to,’ Kargan said. ‘And don’t pretend that you want me to stay any longer, Lothar. I have the gold with me. You know you’re being paid well.’
Kargan roved his eyes over his new vessel. In time, with work, she would be as proud as any other ship in his navy.
‘Men!’ he called back to the small crowd of people who had been following him. He pointed at the ship. ‘Get to work!’
Fourteen ships arrived in Koulis but twenty departed. The sizeable fleet left the port city’s harbor and traveled in convoy, heading in the direction of Fort Liberty. The island settlement specialized in chandlers, and Kargan hoped to pick up new sails, ropes, oars, and caulking materials.
The journey to Fort Liberty wouldn’t take long and would give Kargan an opportunity to appraise the new vessels that trailed in the wake of his flagship, the Nexotardis. He was pleased to see that they were sluggish but managing to keep up.
But he was also apprehensive. He scanned the sky constantly. All around him archers stared upwards. Back in Lamara he was recruiting from all over his empire, furiously spending the gold in his treasury. He had been far too wary to travel to Koulis with just two ships or even five: he’d brought his entire fleet.
Fear wasn’t something that Kargan was used to experiencing.
He remembered the terrifying sight of a hundred scarlet dragons attacking his ships like vultures feasting on a carcass. Palemon had procured them out of thin air, and Dion, the king of Xanthos, seemed to think that the usurper of Malakai was using dark magic to create even more. Kargan’s ambition was no longer to reclaim the city Palemon had stolen. It was simply to survive.
He sensed someone else at the ship’s rail and turned to see Javid glowering at him. ‘And what is that look for?’ Kargan scowled.
‘You should have told Lothar the true nature of our enemy.’
‘And why would I do that?’
‘He has a right to know.’ Javid shook his head slowly. ‘Telling lies leaves scars on a man’s soul.’
‘Perhaps it escaped you that Lothar was selling me warships,’ Kargan said. ‘You know the state of the treasury.’ He jerked his chin at the six trailing ships he’d bought from Koulis. ‘If I’d told him the truth, do you think he would have let me buy even those old hulks for the price I did? He would have known how desperate I was and asked for more gold. Or refused to sell them altogether.’
‘And what will happen to the city of Koulis when the dragons come?’
‘The fact is, Palemon won’t come for Koulis; he will come for Lamara. If we fall, Lothar will surrender, but if we win, Lothar will thank us.’
‘But you now have what you wanted,’ Javid said. ‘Send word to Lothar. Tell him what is coming.’
‘Bah.’ Kargan turned away. ‘He will find out soon enough.’
12
Palemon strode along the corridors of his palace in Malakai. He was covered in dust, grime, and sweat – he had thought these lands were hot, but that was before high summer. He unbuckled his sword belt as he walked, clutching it under his arm as he yanked off first one mailed glove and then the other. He reached the throne room and threw the pile onto the ground, before attempting to yank off his mail shirt.
Even though the steel shirt was heavy and confining, he had always been able to do it unaided. Yet now, after a full day training with dragons and men, he was fatigued to the core. He grimaced as he bent over at the waist, trying to slide the garment up over his torso and broad shoulders. His slaves knew well enough not to offer help unless he asked for it.
Palemon cursed. He was getting old. There was more gray in his hair than black. And now he was embarrassing himself in his own throne room. At least the only witnesses were slaves.
He suddenly felt hands helping him, but couldn’t see who it was. ‘Sire,’ a soft, female voice said. ‘Let me help.’
‘You’re back,’ Palemon said as Zara assisted him out of the mail shirt. He threw it onto the pile and, now clad in a gray leather vest, headed directly for the high-backed wooden throne, collapsing into it with a barely concealed sigh of relief. He rubbed at his eyes and then regarded the sorceress. ‘Well? Did you find her?’
‘I once believed that the woman we saw at the ruins of Aleuthea was this Oracle, but it is clear that she was instead one of the Oracle’s minions. Unfortunately when I went to Athos, she wasn’t there,’ Zara said. ‘But there were sorcerers on the island. There was a struggle. We killed four of them.’
‘More sorcerers,’ Palemon muttered. ‘Who are they? And who was this Oracle?’
‘Undoubtedly she was the head of the snake,’ Zara said. ‘She was . . . different . . . I questioned her before I killed her, and learned that the dark-haired woman we seek is called Chloe.’
Palemon nodded. ‘So this loose end remains.’ His brow furrowed. ‘How did these people come to use magic? Why were they working against us?’
‘Perhaps they were a rival order to that of Nisos the Archmagus. They may even be more ancient still.’ Zara’s eyes glazed as she remembered. When she spoke, her voice was filled with awe. ‘There was a jewel there. Deep under the ground. Like nothing I have ever seen before. As clear as crystal, but glowing inside with white light. When I stared into its depths, I realized that my power was connected to it. I felt I was looking at the source of it all. I saw our dragons . . . This jewel . . . It knew about them.’ She looked up at him. ‘I want to go back.’
‘No,’ Palemon said sharply. He saw her recoil, as if he’d slapped her.
‘Then let me at least search for—’
‘Time is running out,’ Palemon interrupted. ‘You have had your chance. Soon Kyphos will be at Necropolis. It sounds to me like this Chloe has just lost the rest of her order. If she knew a way to break the spell of the arch, she would have done it.’
‘But there was something the Oracle said . . .’
Palemon smiled without humor. ‘You believe in oracles now?’
‘No,’ Zara said, straightening. ‘You are right. It is nothing.’
‘I need your complete commitment, sorceress.’
‘You have it, sire.’
‘Good. It is time.’
Palemon shifted off his seat and beckoned for Zara to follow him. He led her to a table, which was entirely covered by a map of the Realm of the Three Seas.
‘We have an unbeatable army, but what we don’t have are numbers. We want the Aleuthean Sea safely in our hands, with tribute flowing in from the kingdoms of the Maltherean. Now,’ Palemon said, facing Zara across the table, ‘we can destroy our enemies and raze their cities to the ground, but then we would have no one to rule. No, we need to harness fear as our main weapon.’
‘So what do you propose?’ Zara asked.
‘Eldran scouts are watching us. It is possible that our enemies already realize how powerful we are, in which case the kings of the Maltherean might be willing vassals.’
‘Not after what happened to the king of Xanthos’
s bride,’ Zara murmured.
‘And the king of Ilea has long howled for my blood.’ Palemon smiled. ‘No, turning them into willing vassals is something we must work toward.’
‘Hence the fear.’
Palemon nodded. ‘In order to create fear, what we need is action. We must send a message. When they realize they cannot stand against us, they will surrender soon enough.’
‘So where do we attack?’ Zara’s eyes gleamed.
‘There is an outpost far from help. It belongs to the king of Xanthos, but it is an open port, used by Ilea as well.’ Palemon lifted a finger and stabbed it down on a tiny island, almost in the very middle of the Maltherean Sea. The label gave its name: Fort Liberty.
‘Prepare your sorcerers, Zara. We ride to war.’
Zachary flew high in the sky, conserving his energy. He was old, and experienced at controlling the abilities he’d been born with. If he remained calm, as he was now, he could stay changed for hour after hour, soaring over the city of Malakai, waiting for Palemon to make his move.
Since the death of his wife, Aella, he had become used to spending time alone and had volunteered for this duty. He also knew that it was important, perhaps one of the most important things he would ever do. Despite the fact that all eldren could change their form, only the most powerful of Zachary’s race could become dragons, and it was dragons who were needed to give warning to the nations of Xanthos and Phalesia. Zachary’s scales were mottled with age, but the spread of his wings was immense. He could outrun any red dragon that tried to pursue him. He could change for longer periods than even his son Eiric.
There were far too many dragons in Malakai for them all to be kept in the city, and Zachary saw them now, formed up in rows on the dusty plain outside. At last count there were two hundred and forty winged monsters, resting patiently side by side, utterly under the control of the copper chains that these people from across the sea had salvaged from Aleuthea. There hadn’t been any more added to their numbers in several days, which told him that every set of chains was now in use. As it was, it was a huge number. Each row was a dozen dragons wide, and there were twenty rows in the group. Zachary had never thought he would see such a thing.
Iron Will Page 8
