‘I appreciate your candor, Lord Samar, and so I will share something with you in kind . . .’
As he spoke, Kargan’s eyes drifted to Javid, standing behind the file of courtiers but so tall that he towered head and shoulders above the rest. A skilled warrior with broad features, thick lips, and his hair tied back behind his head, Javid was also his most loyal adviser, and the only man alive whom, now that he was king, Kargan would call a friend. But he was a commoner, and as such Kargan could only harvest his thoughts when they were away from prying eyes.
While the prince of Haria waited for Kargan’s revelation, Kargan saw Javid give him a slight nod.
‘The truth is that I’m expecting a shipment of gold to arrive any day. When I promised you gold, it was this shipment that I had in mind.’ Kargan frowned. ‘But unfortunately it’s late. I’m trying not to think about pirates, or storms, or several other things that readily occur to me. You may wait if you wish, or you may return home with the gold in front of you. I respect you enough to know that the choice should be yours.’
Kargan raised his voice, casting his gaze over the assembled people all watching him speak. ‘And I say this to everyone here today . . .’
He lifted his arm to point toward the huge tapestry covering an entire wall of the throne room. It was a decorative map of the Ilean Empire, with the seven great cities and the three seas represented in stunning detail.
‘We remain united!’ Kargan thundered, as everyone turned to look at the map. ‘We lost Koulis, but Koulis was founded by Galeans, and their culture and ours were always different. We tried to conquer Phalesia, but Phalesia is far from here, on the other side of the Maltherean Sea. An empire of seven cities, working together, is our natural state, as decreed by the gods.’ He glared at the yellow-robed priests in the crowd, who of course had no choice but to nod and bow. Still pointing at the map, he then named the cities in turn, from east to west. ‘Efu. Abadihn. Serca. Lamara. Abbas. Verai. Malakai.’
His mouth twisted at the last, for it was gold from Malakai that was late. He lowered his arm and looked down at the prince of Haria from his tall throne.
‘The seven great cities will always be linked in common cause, and that includes Efu. No matter what comes, Lord Samar, we will support you in your time of need.’
The prince of Haria gave a deep bow, and when he rose again he looked clearly impressed. ‘I thank you, Great King. I will take the gold you offer, and make every coin count. I give my utmost gratitude to Helios for your continued support.’
‘Your oratorical skills are improving,’ Javid said when everyone else had left.
‘It helps when you believe what you’re saying,’ Kargan grunted as he wriggled off his uncomfortable perch to stand in front of his friend. He glanced back over his shoulder and scowled. ‘By the gods, I hate that throne.’
‘Having responsibility is making you more truthful.’ Javid nodded solemnly. ‘It is good to see.’
‘Truthful? Hah!’ Kargan barked a laugh. ‘Just yesterday I told the priests that they could have their new temple, but work wouldn’t begin until the restorations on the arena were complete. Then I went to the arena and told them to stop working until the gold arrived from Malakai. We both know that if and when the shipment comes, it won’t be used to restore the arena.’
Javid frowned. ‘The god Helios says that all men must be truth—’
‘Enough, Javid.’ Kargan held up a hand. ‘I do what I must, and, as I said, where the empire is concerned, I believe everything I say.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘So, what do you think? Will Lord Samar put down his rebellion?’
‘Your speech had an effect on him. He will do his best with the gold you gave him. Only time will tell.’
‘Another problem deferred, rather than solved.’ Kargan shook his head. ‘Still, we could be lucky—’
‘Great King!’ A palace guard entered the throne room and bowed. ‘A small fleet is approaching the harbor. They’re flying Lord Agathon’s colors!’
Kargan and Javid exchanged glances.
‘They’re from Malakai. The gold,’ Kargan said, immediately spurred into action, taking long strides toward the exit.
‘But why a fleet?’ Javid muttered.
Lamara’s riverside harbor was quiet. It was late in the day and the sun was slowly setting, casting a rosy glow on the huge wooden warships lined up side by side. Kargan paced just in front of the mess hall, a long, thatched structure with smoke trickling from its chimney. His brow furrowed as he watched the brown waters of the great watercourse that led from Lamara to the sea. He peered downstream, clenching and unclenching his fists, willing the first ship to appear. Meanwhile Javid’s words stayed with him.
Why a fleet?
There should be one ship, or two at most if Agathon was sending a significant quantity of cargo. Two ships hardly constituted a fleet. He glanced at the long bank, seeing that even with dozens of biremes resting side by side, so close together they were almost touching, there was still enough space left over for twice their number.
But why a fleet?
Perhaps the message from the scouts had become muddled. It didn’t happen often, for all runners were trained to recall messages word for word, including inflections and pauses. Anyone who made mistakes didn’t last long at his job.
Kargan cursed under his breath, making sure he wasn’t heard by his guards. He glanced at Javid, standing nearby, his fingers hooked into his trousers as he gazed downriver along with everyone else. He was irrationally angry at Javid for planting the thought in his mind that something was wrong. There was obviously no danger, for the naval patrols would never let an enemy fleet come anywhere near the empire’s capital. Perhaps Agathon had simply decided to send some unneeded vessels home, or perhaps some foreign merchants had asked to travel in convoy.
A ship slowly slid into view.
It was a wide merchant galley, the same kind that always came to deliver gold and other goods from Malakai. Kargan, a man of the sea, even knew this particular vessel. Traveling on oars alone against the weak current, it gradually became larger and larger, until Kargan could see that it was indeed flying his cousin’s flag. A second ship soon appeared behind it, and then a third. Galleys trailed after the lead vessels, while a bireme brought up the rear. The light was fading quickly, but there was still enough to see that from bow to stern they appeared to be filled with men.
Kargan ceased his pacing and frowned, his attention on the lead merchant vessel. He was relieved to see that of the seven ships that made up the fleet, not one appeared to be blackened by flame or crippled by combat. He couldn’t see any storm damage and none of them were riding low enough in the water to be sinking.
As they made their laborious way into the harbor, the sun set completely, casting the approaching vessels into darkness. The sandy shore was still bright, lit by torches on poles, but the ships were hulking shadows as they drove up onto the bank. Kargan met Javid’s eyes and then headed down toward the water’s edge to greet the new arrivals. His ever-present guards fell in behind and lined up behind Kargan and Javid as they peered into the night. Waiting impatiently in front of the lead merchant galley, Kargan heard a series of splashes.
Suddenly a silhouette appeared and then a staggering man was revealed in the flickering light of the torches on the beach. He stumbled forward, climbing out of the shallows, and the first thing Kargan noticed was that he had a weeping red slash across his face. His leather armor, scarred by battle, marked him as a soldier, and he held a comrade in his arms like a child.
Two more soldiers exited the water, carrying a third between them. The man in the center’s face was as white as a sheet, and rivulets of sweat trickled down his face as he groaned. Looking down, Kargan’s chest became tight with horror when he saw that the wounded man’s leg had been amputated below the thigh.
They kept coming. From every boat, soldiers made their way to the safety of their homeland, and almost every one of them bore crudely-bandaged wounds
. Some collapsed as soon as they reached dry land; others fought grimly to help those with the worst injuries climb the shore.
Kargan was gasping. He couldn’t believe how many Ilean soldiers had been crammed into these vessels; there must have been hundreds.
‘Get these men some help!’ he bellowed behind him and his guards leaped to follow his orders. ‘And someone tell me what in the names of all the gods is going on!’
‘Great King.’
Kargan whirled when he heard a voice behind him. He immediately recognized the officer in front of him. General Dhuma looked weary to the core, but he was uninjured, standing slumped, with his white-crested helm clutched under his arm.
‘We lost the city,’ Dhuma said. ‘Two weeks ago. Malakai . . .’ He shook his head, struggling to find words. ‘The walls fell. We were the only ones who made it out alive.’
‘What?’ Kargan’s eyes were wide with disbelief.
Kargan swept his gaze over the area, taking it all in. Everywhere soldiers were lying on the ground, moaning as their wounds seeped red blood onto the sand. He remembered hearing reports that the clans from the desert were massing, but they’d never posed much of a threat.
When he turned back to the general, his bewilderment had shifted to anger. ‘Explain.’
‘The city . . . Malakai’s fallen . . . It’s no longer ours.’
Kargan had a sudden thought. ‘My cousin, Agathon.’ He scanned the area again. ‘Where is he?’
‘I’m . . . I am sorry, Great King. He fought on the walls . . . fought bravely . . . but he was killed in the battle. I saw it myself, and my men will confirm it. Their . . . leader, a tall warrior with a braided beard, cut him in half with a single blow.’
Kargan looked away. He’d always liked his cousin. Agathon was never much of a warrior, but he’d given his life for Ilea.
He struggled to make sense of it. ‘Take care of your men. Then, you and I, General, we need to talk.’
Once more in his throne room, Kargan sipped red wine from a goblet, barely tasting it. He stood near the map, staring up at it and frowning. His eyes roved over the tapestry, his dark glare fixated on the distant west.
Imakale was the farthest dominion from Ilea. It was a dry, dusty land, home to savage tribesmen. But despite its inhospitable terrain, the capital, Malakai, was one of Kargan’s most important cities. Gold, slaves, ivory, and soft pelts from the great cats traveled to Malakai in long caravans, to be shipped to Lamara and sold to the city’s traders. Malakai was the only place in the Ilean Empire to have a port on the Aleuthean Sea. The city was his gateway to the south, and the resources of the Salesian continent’s inner heart.
Kargan took another mouthful of red wine as he explored land routes and checked supply lines, reminding himself where his armies were presently stationed.
Hearing footsteps, he glanced up as a palace guard entered and bowed. ‘General Dhuma is here, Great King.’
‘Good,’ Kargan grunted. ‘Send him in.’
‘At once, Great King.’
Kargan turned to Javid, standing nearby. ‘You think I should let him live?’
‘I think you should hear his story.’
Boot heels rang on the hard stone of the palace floor and Kargan looked toward the arched entrance as General Dhuma entered. He’d washed his face and hands, but his jaw was unshaven and he still wore his armor. Reaching Kargan, he came to a halt, standing tall as he gave his king a shaky military salute.
When Kargan didn’t respond, the general glanced at Javid and then back at Kargan. Javid didn’t make any movement, his expression as stony as ever, but the general’s face paled.
‘General Dhuma,’ Kargan said. ‘I’d like to hear your account now, firsthand, without embellishment. Tell me the facts.’
The general nodded. ‘Of course, Great King.’ He took a deep breath. ‘As you know, we have faced down the tribes many times, and I . . . Well, this time we thought it would be the same. It has been a long time since so many gathered, but they’ve never been strong warriors, no match for ours.’
Kargan stared into the general’s eyes. ‘How many did you defend the city with?’
‘Close . . . Close to two thousand, Great King.’
‘And the enemy?’
‘Five or six hundred tribesmen . . . Perhaps a hundred and fifty foreigners. The strangers . . . I’ve never fought men like them before.’
Kargan’s nostrils flared. ‘Tell me, General, how many did you lead when you fled, leaving my city to the mercy of the savages?’
Dhuma spoke so quietly that Kargan strained to hear him. ‘Four hundred and twelve.’
‘So you were soundly defeated. You had superior numbers and the strength of the city walls. How did you lose? Why did you lose?’ Kargan’s voice became a roar. ‘Malakai is one of my key cities!’
The general swallowed. ‘They attacked with the dawn. But it was the wind that gave them the advantage. A strange wind . . . It rose up from nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘There was a sandstorm, unlike anything I’ve experienced before. So much grit that we couldn’t see. It got into our eyes and into our armor. We still defeated the tribesmen in numbers, but the foreigners . . .’
Dhuma steadied himself, meeting Kargan’s stare directly. ‘King of Kings, I am telling you this truly, as someone who has fought all across the empire. I have never seen armor like theirs, nor weapons. They cut through us like a scythe through wheat, yet our arrows and spears barely scratched them.’
‘And then you lost the walls and fled . . . Leaving the body of the viceroy, Agathon, behind.’ Kargan’s lips thinned as he paused, and the general’s face turned whiter. ‘This leader, the man who killed my cousin. Describe him.’
The general cleared his throat and nodded. ‘They say his name is Palemon. The clan chiefs are in awe of him. Even as we waited for the attack, rumors were rife in the city. The locals have never loved us, and when the usual cries for rebellion began, they were shouting his name. They say he is the ancient King Palemon of Aleuthea, reincarnated in the flesh. All I know is that, without doubt, he and his warriors are the reason the city fell.’
‘So he tells a good tale, and he knows how to use myths to recruit followers.’ Kargan scratched his beard.
‘The Aleutheans built Malakai,’ Dhuma said. ‘It’s one of the world’s oldest cities. This . . . Palemon . . . says that he is merely reclaiming it from usurpers, and he intends to do the same with the rest of the world.’
Kargan gave a short laugh. ‘He may have the support of the desert men, and he may have a hundred and fifty warriors. By Helios, he may be able to summon sandstorms at his command, but I doubt he’ll stand against our counterattack.’
When he saw the general’s frown, Kargan waved a hand. ‘Now, Dhuma. Who is he really? Where does he come from? Is he from the south, from lands we are unaware of?’
‘That is my best theory.’
Kargan glanced at the map again. ‘Until this defeat, we finally had the empire united.’ He turned back to the general. ‘We can’t lose battles, not ever, or it inspires others to rise up against us. If you’d needed a larger garrison, you should have sent for support. You also should have had your ear to the ground and taken the measure of your enemy.’
‘Yes, Great King. I accept full responsibility.’
‘Now, let’s say for a moment that you were still alive, still a general, and were tasked with recapturing Malakai. What strategy would you recommend?’
Dhuma blanched and spoke quickly, releasing the words in a rush. ‘A swift assault with a large force, Great King. I would take four divisions from the capital to the Shadrian Passage. Cross them over to Verai on barges. Pick up some more men in Shadria. Then head directly for Malakai.’
The general finished, waiting expectantly for Kargan’s response.
Kargan looked at Javid, who gave him a slight nod. Dhuma’s strategy was exactly what Kargan had already determined he would do. He came to a decision.
‘Then, C
aptain Dhuma’—Kargan saw him wince at the change in rank—‘that is the plan you will be recommending to your new general. Lead the army to Malakai, take back my city, and then stick this Palemon’s head up on the walls. Dhuma, if you and your commander succeed, you’ll be a general again. If not . . .’ He trailed off with a meaningful look.
‘I live to serve,’ Dhuma said, keeping his face blank.
‘Now go. Get some rest. You have work to do.’
Kargan waited until Dhuma had left and then let out a breath as he turned to Javid. ‘Right now they’ll be plundering my coffers, killing my representatives, and rounding up the Ileans in the city and butchering them.’
‘What of these reports of a mysterious wind?’
Kargan snorted. ‘Despite what the priests say, I tend to believe what I see with my own eyes.’
Javid came forward. ‘These strangers. They defeated a far larger force. Dhuma’s description of their arms may be an exaggeration, or it may not be. Their origin is unclear. There could be worse to come.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Kargan muttered. ‘This may only be the beginning.’
4
Palemon walked toward Necropolis, snow crunching beneath his boots, seeing the familiar ridges of black-and-white rock and the settlement itself, nestled in the cleft of the fork they formed, sheltered from the cruel winds.
Hundreds of crude conical huts stood alongside the occasional wooden house formed from ships’ timbers, yet the area appeared deserted. The ragged furs on the huts’ whalebone frames blew in the chill air. Mist swirled into the valley, occasionally obscuring everything before rolling back out in the next gust.
Everything was so washed with white that the scene felt hazy and unreal. A thought sparked in his consciousness; he knew for a moment that he was dreaming. But then the idea swiftly fled, replaced with a nagging worry that churned at his stomach.
Still a distance from the settlement, Palemon wondered where all the people were. He turned around to gaze in a sweeping circle. Then, as another gust cleared a section of mist, he saw a collection of figures clad in furs. Several hundred men, women, and children were assembled outside the entrance to a cave.
Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3) Page 3
