Iron Will

by James Maxwell

  He cleared his throat. ‘The king couldn’t come himself,’ he said, ‘but we have returned from across the sea to take you to your new home. We have a fleet of ships and plenty of food and clothing. I promise you, you are safe now.’

  ‘Our new home. What is it called?’ asked one of the two children Kyphos had first seen, a young boy.

  ‘It’s called Malakai. It’s a city in the Realm, in a land called Imakale. King Palemon rules there. It’s warm and beautiful, just like the stories describe. Trust me’ – Kyphos smiled at the boy – ‘you will like it.’

  31

  Chloe weaved through the agora, where morning sunshine lit up vast crowds filling every vacant space. The rose and brown tiles could barely be seen through all the bodies. People sat cross-legged on the ground and side by side on the temple steps. Moving through them was difficult and time consuming. But there was nowhere else they could go, and at least here, close to the defensive embankment and surrounded by soldiers, they were as safe as they could be.

  Chloe had a basket in her arms and wore a white chiton belted with a blue cord. A copper necklace with a shining medallion dangled from her neck. Moving slowly through the mass of refugees, she handed out a loaf to every person she met, crouching and asking how they were.

  ‘Lady Chloe,’ voices around her called, hands out imploringly. ‘Please.’

  Whether from Xanthos or Phalesia, they all knew her name. She was the woman they could count on if someone was sick or hungry. She always listened to what they had to say, and she never forgot a thing. It didn’t matter if they were city folk or from a remote village, they were all in this together. Xanthians and Phalesians commingled. New friendships formed. Word spread that Chloe was the woman to see if someone needed help.

  Running the city was no longer about trade and treaties, votes and symposiums. It was about people. Chloe supposed that it had always been about people, but there was a distance between the ruling classes and the commoners that had only now been eroded. Phalesia was an island in a sea of chaos. It was perhaps the only city still standing in Galea.

  Pressing needs overrode all others. Mouths needed feeding and the sick needed care. Clothing and blankets had to be found. Amos now delegated everything other than the protection of the city to Chloe. She in turn worked with all the consuls, men who had never had to worry about such things before. She remembered the things she’d learned from her father, about how to find simple solutions to complex problems, how to identify capable allies and delegate responsibility, and most of all how to read people’s hearts and minds.

  Chloe had even begun to make speeches in the lyceum. If there was unrest, everything would fall apart. She knew that people reacted badly when they were confused and afraid, if they felt there were decisions being made that they weren’t a part of. She often stood on the tallest steps of the Temple of Aeris and told large crowds about the meetings she had been having and what was being done. Locals and newcomers alike called out questions, and she did her best to answer them. She had no official title, but in these times it didn’t seem to matter.

  ‘Thank you, Lady Chloe,’ an old woman said as Chloe handed her a loaf.

  Chloe crouched. ‘How are you feeling, Rea?’

  ‘Much the same.’

  ‘Let me take a look at you.’ Chloe reached out and felt at the old woman’s throat. The swelling had gone down a little. She put a hand against the woman’s forehead and nodded, pleased. If disease broke out, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I think you’re improving.’

  ‘My throat is better.’

  ‘Good. Don’t forget to go to the temple if you or anyone you know feels ill.’

  The old woman nodded.

  Chloe straightened and turned when she heard her name. Sophia was hurrying toward her, working her way through the crowd of people crammed into the agora.

  ‘Chloe!’ Sophia called again, waving her arms. ‘They’re waiting for you.’

  Chloe cursed and looked up at the sky. ‘Can you finish here?’ She indicated the basket of bread.

  ‘Of course I can.’

  ‘Don’t forget—’

  ‘—to watch for signs of disease,’ Sophia said, looking irritated. ‘I know.’

  Chloe set her sights on the embankment, overlooking the shore and the sea, where soldiers watched the sky night and day. Then she left her sister behind.

  Two men stood a little apart from the soldiers, talking together on top of the sloped bastion that descended to the pebbled shore below. Amos, first consul of Phalesia, wore leather armor and a white cloak on his shoulders. He was the stockier of the pair, an athletic man with big arms and broad shoulders.

  The other man was Dion.

  Both of them looked fatigued, but Dion even more so. His sandy hair was tousled, and he had stubble on his square jaw. He wore a plain tunic belted with a crimson cord, but other than that he wore no necklace, and there was nothing to say he was a king. It didn’t matter; everyone knew who he was.

  Dion turned and saw Chloe approaching. Their eyes met.

  She felt the same thrill she felt every time he looked at her. She thought that there was clear longing in his pale eyes. He always appeared slightly befuddled, as if just glancing her way made him lose track of whatever he was thinking about.

  They hadn’t had much chance to speak since the Xanthians arrived two days ago. He had been sleeping on board his ship. Chloe had offered her home, but he had declined with a smile, as if he hadn’t recently spent an exhausted night in her bed.

  ‘Chloe,’ Amos said. He nodded in the direction of the agora. ‘The people. How are they?’

  ‘Well enough,’ Chloe said. ‘But we have far too many. It’s only a matter of time before disease sets in, and once it does, it will spread quickly.’

  Dion looked apologetic. ‘Once again, thank you both for taking us all in. We had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Chloe said softly.

  ‘We are here because we need to make a decision,’ Amos said. ‘With so many in the city, soon there will be riots, or plague, or we will run out of food—’

  ‘There won’t be time for any of that to happen,’ Dion interrupted. ‘I saw the dragons come to Xanthos after we evacuated. They will spend some time searching the city, but if they don’t come here first thing tomorrow, I will be surprised.’

  ‘Can we even make it to Sindara?’ Chloe asked.

  ‘We have to try,’ Amos said. ‘When our people are safe, then we can make an attempt to fight back.’

  ‘But how will we evacuate so many?’ Chloe persisted. ‘The journey to Sindara is much longer than to Xanthos. It can’t be done in a single night by ship, and by land it’s farther still.’

  Dion gazed down from the embankment, seeing all the ships lined up side by side on the beach. With so many vessels newly arrived from Xanthos, they filled the entire shoreline, and many more bobbed at anchor in the shallow water.

  ‘Together with Phalesia’s fleet,’ he said, ‘we have nearly two hundred boats of various shapes and sizes.’ He gave a slight smile. ‘I know, I’ve counted them. Many, like our biremes and triremes, can carry a large number of passengers. Even the smallest fishing boat can take three or four people.’

  Chloe frowned. ‘But we still have too many people!’

  ‘That’s true,’ Dion said. ‘And we can’t make more than one trip. We will be exposed for too long as it is.’

  ‘Won’t we be safer staying here?’

  ‘In the short term, yes,’ Amos said. ‘But we would spend every waking moment defending the city and never be able to fight back. And’ – Amos glanced at Dion – ‘we are not sure that the city can be defended for long.’

  Chloe’s heart sank as she cast her eyes over the city of her birth. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving, of abandoning her home, perhaps never to return. But then she looked at Dion. He would have had the same feelings as her when he left Xanthos. Yet he had made the difficult
decision.

  ‘So what is our plan?’ she asked.

  ‘Similar to before, we get the oldest and weakest onto boats,’ Dion said. ‘Our armies will combine and provide an escort for the rest to travel overland to Sindara. It will take all day to get ready. People must bring only what’s essential. We should leave as soon as it’s dark.’

  Chloe still couldn’t believe it; this was the last morning she would wake up in her own home. She took a deep breath and released it. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Your part is the most important of all,’ Amos said. ‘I need you to call everyone to the agora. Tell them our plan, and what they must do. You will have to divide people between the two evacuation groups, which may involve separating husbands from their families. You can do this. It’s the kind of task I know you’re good at. Most of all, keep everyone calm.’

  ‘But you’re the first consul,’ Chloe said. ‘That’s your role.’

  Amos met her eyes. ‘I’m no fool, Chloe. I know what my strengths and weaknesses are. Leadership of soldiers, I can understand . . . It’s what I was born to do. But working with everyday people? Administering a city?’ He shook his head. ‘I am not the man your father was.’

  ‘None of us are,’ Dion protested. ‘But Amos, we all grow into our positions. We were preparing for riots in Xanthos. I can’t believe how calm it is here. You’re holding it all together.’

  ‘I’d like to take credit for that.’ Amos smiled at Chloe. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he suddenly stopped. Thoughts visibly worked their way across his face. ‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back.’

  He strode off, leaving Dion and Chloe standing together, with the soldiers on the embankment still busy scanning the sky.

  Chloe watched Amos go and then turned to Dion. Thinking about leaving her city brought home the danger they were in. She came to a decision. She slowly took a few steps toward Dion. Stopping just in front of him, she looked up at him.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, stepping back.

  ‘Don’t what?’

  He spoke with frustration. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

  Chloe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Chloe . . . It’s difficult enough as it is.’

  ‘Difficult enough to what? To keep me away? Dion, nothing is safe. Yes, we could all be killed at any moment. But death comes for everyone at some point. Is that a reason not to live?’ Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. ‘You can’t protect me by keeping me away. If you want to make sure I’m safe, then perhaps you should think about keeping me close.’

  His mouth worked as he tried to reply. Eventually he grinned. ‘I suppose it’s you who keeps saving me, at any rate.’ The smile faded. ‘Even when you have to pay the price.’

  Chloe came even closer. ‘How about we keep each other safe . . . ?’ she murmured.

  She gazed up into his soft brown eyes. She parted her lips.

  ‘By the gods, this is too hard,’ Dion whispered.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Their lips touched.

  Suddenly Chloe forgot that they were standing where countless sets of eyes could see them. Her senses were heightened; she was aware of the contact between their lips, of the smell of him, and the feel of his soft stubble against her cheek. A tingle traveled through her body. She wanted it to last forever.

  But it was the first time he had kissed her since their stolen kiss after his betrothal to Isobel. She knew better than to push him, and it was she who broke first.

  ‘Chloe . . .’ he said, looking lost. ‘I . . .’

  He stopped when he looked past her shoulder. Turning, Chloe saw Amos coming back. If he had seen their kiss, it wasn’t apparent from his expression.

  In fact he was deadly serious. Chloe was reminded with renewed force about what they were planning. It was midmorning. If they wanted to depart at dusk, they had a daunting task ahead of them.

  ‘I’ve spoken with some old friends,’ Amos said without preamble. ‘The veterans are staying here.’

  ‘Why?’ Dion asked, perplexed.

  ‘Think about it,’ Amos said. ‘What happens when everyone leaves? The boats will still be at sea. The men will still be marching.’ He glanced at Dion. ‘You said that after you left Xanthos, the dragons headed straight for the city.’ Dion nodded. ‘What is the first thing that will happen when the dragons come to Phalesia? They will try to root out anything still moving. My guess is they won’t take their time about it. They will have learned after Xanthos . . . It won’t occupy them for more than a day. Then?’

  Dion and Chloe exchanged glances as realization dawned.

  ‘They’ll catch up to us,’ Dion said.

  ‘Correct. So we have to keep the dragons occupied here until everyone is safely in Sindara. We have to provide a distraction.’

  Dion’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean “we”?’

  Amos came forward. He put a hand on Dion’s shoulder and another on Chloe’s. ‘The men remaining behind are all volunteers. I can’t expect them to stay unless I stay with them.’

  Chloe’s face drained of all color. ‘Amos, no—’

  Amos interrupted her. ‘There is a difference between a soldier, a politician, and a king. For once in my life, I am content. I know who I am, and what my purpose is. I no longer want to be first consul. I want to fight alongside my men.’

  He squeezed both their shoulders, and then reached around to the white cloak clasped about his neck. He unfastened it and bunched it in his hand.

  ‘I am no administrator,’ Amos said. ‘I am a warrior.’ He smiled. ‘A very good one. My place is here. We will buy you the time you need, and then we will join you in Sindara.’

  Chloe’s eyes blurred as she shook her head. She knew it wasn’t true. Amos was sacrificing himself. She wanted to scream at him, to persuade him he was wrong. But he knew what he wanted. She had to give him the respect he deserved.

  ‘Together, the two of you are the leaders our people need,’ Amos said.

  He embraced Chloe, holding her tight, and then he clasped his arms around Dion. Looking at Amos, Chloe saw the resolve in his eyes, but she couldn’t help thinking about Sophia. After their father’s death, her sister had come to love Amos.

  ‘Remember,’ Amos said, ‘I used the word “together.”’ He met their eyes. ‘Now, you both have a lot of work to do, while I get my men and prepare.’

  32

  Kyphos again led from the front, but this time a crowd of several hundred men, women, and children followed behind him.

  It was a clear day, with the sun shining down on the ice, reflecting off the white expanse and bouncing back with a painful glare. They were far slower on the return journey, but fortunately after the blizzard the weather had improved, and the sky remained bright and blue. The trek back to the ships passed surprisingly swiftly. Each of the seventy men Kyphos had brought with him was assigned to a dozen survivors. The hard biscuit and dried meat kept coming, as much as the survivors could stomach. The rescuers carried the heaviest loads.

  Kyphos gazed ahead, setting a brisk pace, fixing his sights on a dozen wooden structures, perhaps huts or houses, rising up from the ice. The structures developed features; masts became visible, and then they were ships.

  He allowed himself a slight smile. Glancing behind him, he saw that the group was keeping up. The weather was fair, and he had found what he came for. Soon the last exiles of Aleuthea would be on their way to their new home across the sea.

  He was now close enough to see that the ships were bobbing up and down on the placid water. They were still tethered to the shore, ready to depart. Behind them a multitude of floes covered the dark expanse, but he was relieved to note that the floating ice hadn’t closed together, sealing the fate of everyone with him.

  Kyphos led the group toward the Targus, the vessel that had carried him to these lands. Before he had come within hailing distance, his men were racing down the gangway, smiling, shouting
, and waving their arms. The other vessels began to empty, and within moments the two groups collided. There were more newcomers than crew members, but there were now enough hands to help everyone make the last stretch to the row of waiting ships.

  Kyphos heard gasps. Initially worried, he turned and saw wide eyes on the survivors. Then he grinned. They had never seen an Ilean bireme before. Raised in the cold, only the Solaris had told them what a ship even looked like. The long wooden vessels, made of pine, with two decks of oars and glaring eyes painted on either side of the bowsprit, were utterly unlike the Solaris in every way.

  The crew members now acted like old hands as they pointed out features on the ships. Kyphos smiled as he watched, enjoying the moment.

  He stopped and frowned.

  The bald tracker, Nero, stood apart from the group. He was shielding his eyes from the glare off the ice and staring into the distance. It was his expression that made Kyphos pause. Kyphos had learned to trust Nero, and the tracker looked anxious.

  Kyphos quickly issued instructions to his men, telling them to divide the newcomers between the ships and get them on board. He then hurried over to Nero.

  ‘What is it?’ he murmured.

  Nero glanced at Kyphos and then returned his attention to the plain, gazing out with his back to the ships. ‘Perhaps nothing,’ he said. ‘I thought—’

  He broke off at the same time that Kyphos saw a mass of dark figures sprinting toward them. There were several hundred of them, all running. Against the glare Kyphos found it difficult to judge the distance. The shapes were hazy, blurred together.

  But they were approaching so swiftly that in moments they were revealed: tribesmen in skins, holding bone daggers and bows. The long-haired warriors roared. They were charging directly at the vessels on the icy shore.

  Kyphos sucked in a deep breath. ‘Kona!’ he bellowed as loud as he could.

  Thoughts whirled through his mind. The hunting grounds had been thinned, the waters over-fished; there was no longer enough food in these parts. The kona had raided Necropolis but their takings were meager. They had followed Kyphos’s search party from Necropolis, to the rescue, and all the way back to the ships. Now they were desperate to raid the fleet’s supplies.