Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3)

by James Maxwell

  Out on the surging sea, a sudden gust of wind blew across the tops of the waves, shattering the crests into spray. The smaller waves joined to form a growing breaker that rose up as the wind pressed against the water. It became bigger and bigger, traveling in the same direction as her movement. Soon the wave was several feet high and swelling, with a crest of white foam on its summit as it threatened to tumble.

  Beside her, the magus did the same thing, but in reverse. The device on his staff flared up, the color of the moon at night. Guiding it right to left, a wave twice the size of Chloe’s built up in an instant, heading directly for hers. The two waves collided. Spray shot up and the magus’s wave was the victor, the only one to survive the contest.

  ‘You can do better than that.’ Zedo smiled.

  Setting her jaw with determination, Chloe cleared her mind of all other thought, concentrating on the raw feeling of wind. She fed it to the fire inside, feeling the silver flame grow. But rather than release it, she continued to feed it until she felt she was going to burst with the raging power in her mind. She held it, drawing more and more until she knew she couldn’t hold onto it a moment longer. With a strong cry, she finally let it free, feeling it leap through her body to dart through the metal in contact with her skin, while at the same time she swept the staff in a powerful movement.

  A new wave grew and grew until it was as big as the magus’s last effort. As it sped along, forming a towering peak, she drew on her power and released it again. Her wave grew still further in size.

  She flicked a quick glance at the magus and saw him frowning in concentration. He made his own cry, pointing his staff at the sea, and a wave to match Chloe’s began to approach hers. Heading on a collision path, the two waves struck each other and then savagely burst apart, sending flurries of water in all directions. Neither wave was the victor as both were destroyed.

  ‘Good,’ the magus said. His shoulders slumped as he let the base of his staff fall back to the ground. ‘That is enough for today.’

  ‘I can do bigger,’ she protested.

  ‘Remember what I said about the wind. In some ways it is the most difficult to control of the materia. And more power always means less control. Of the four, it is also the easiest to disrupt. If you work directly against a strong natural wind, or against another magus, the result can be chaos.’

  Chloe suddenly felt exhausted. Her knees buckled, but she managed to straighten them.

  ‘Be careful,’ the magus said. ‘You have a deep well of power inside you, but danger is ever present. Until you learn to cool the fire completely, you must either meditate to calm it or release your power regularly, but when you release, it must be with control.’

  The magus held out a hand, and she gave him the staff, feeling disappointed that she would only be able to test herself under his supervision.

  ‘I will walk you back,’ he said. ‘There are some matters we must discuss.’ Her teacher spoke as he led her over the rocky ground. ‘Tell me, have you had any visions?’

  ‘Visions?’

  ‘Like flashes of memory, but things you haven’t experienced yourself. Images of the future.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘Why?’

  ‘If you do, you must tell us.’

  ‘Visions of the future? You want to know if I can do the things the Oracle does?’

  He hesitated. ‘Yes. The Oracle is very old, ancient in fact. The Source gives her the ability to live for many years, provided she does not leave her cave. But eventually she will die, and we hope that before that day comes, the gods will provide us with a replacement. This is one of the reasons we came for you. The abilities of the Oracle are akin to the fire within a sorcerer.’

  ‘I haven’t seen anything.’

  ‘If you do . . .’

  ‘I will tell you.’

  His expression was inscrutable. ‘Good.’

  13

  The large galley bobbed in the waves as two sailors jumped into the water and hoisted Lord Philippos onto their shoulders, carrying him to the dry sand.

  ‘King?’ a soft feminine voice called from the vessel.

  Dion turned to see a young woman of about his own age smiling as she gazed at him. He couldn’t help returning her bright smile; she could only be Philippos’s daughter, Isobel. She put her arms out imploringly.

  ‘Allow me,’ Dion murmured to the two bearers.

  Leaving the shore and plunging into the shallows, he headed out into the water himself and took her offered hand, helping her glide into his arms. Easily carrying her slight weight to the shore, he set her gently down.

  ‘Thank you, King Dion.’

  ‘Welcome to my city, lady,’ Dion said.

  ‘I’m happy to be here.’

  Isobel was slim and willowy, nearly as tall as him, with long blonde hair formed into a multitude of twists that cascaded down her back. Undeniably pretty, she had bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a small mouth, with a dimpled chin and a determined set to her sharp jaw. She wore a light-green chiton and a delicate gold necklace with a symbol of a dolphin.

  As he drank in her features, she gave him another slight smile, lowering her gaze before moving away. Realizing he was staring, Dion tore his eyes off her and turned to greet her father.

  Philippos, a wealthy Phalesian landowner, was young to be Isobel’s father – barely in his forties and a striking man, with his daughter’s high cheekbones, narrow face, and sharp-looking eyes. He had oiled dark hair, which suggested Isobel got her blonde hair from her mother, and wore a rich white tunic.

  ‘Lord Philippos,’ Dion said. ‘We are looking forward to hosting you in Xanthos. Everyone says you are the next first consul of Phalesia.’

  Philippos grinned broadly and gave a small bow. ‘One can never say with elections.’

  ‘Lord Philippos is known for his modesty and renowned for his work with the poor,’ Glaukos said. He and Philippos had already exchanged greetings; the two men obviously knew each other.

  ‘And you, lady?’ Dion asked. ‘Do you also work with those in need?’

  ‘I support my father in all his endeavors,’ Isobel said with a coy smile.

  ‘Well said.’ Glaukos chuckled. He glanced up at the sky. ‘We will host you with a banquet tonight, but I notice the hour is still early. Lady Isobel, are you tired from your journey?’

  ‘Not at all. I’ve been sitting in a boat since dawn and I’m anxious to stretch my legs. King Dion, I noticed the impressive shipyards. Perhaps you could give me a tour?’

  Dion glanced at his uncle, who looked like he was struggling not to mouth the word ‘Yes’.

  ‘Of course,’ Dion said. ‘Please, come with me.’

  ‘Do you know much about ships?’ Dion asked as they followed the shore.

  ‘Not really.’ Isobel gave a soft smile and a shrug. ‘But I’m anxious to learn.’

  She asked him about the size of his fleet and the new harbor he was building at Fort Liberty as they walked side by side, the gentle crash of small waves providing a murmuring backdrop to their conversation. Her queries revealed her lack of knowledge, but the questions themselves were surprisingly astute. He found himself elaborating on his plans in more detail than he’d expected.

  They set a path along the soft sand higher on the beach to pass above the rows of biremes, drawn up high enough that the rising tide wouldn’t drag them away. Finally Dion led Isobel to the bow of the Liberty, the first in a group of larger warships, where two painted eyes under the bowsprit glared at them, the artist having drawn them so that they appeared to be embedded in the polished pine.

  ‘It’s huge,’ she said.

  ‘It’s called a trireme. I doubt there’s another like it anywhere on the Maltherean.’

  ‘Trireme?’ Her gaze traveled along the vessel’s side, taking in the open lower decks and the oars, currently drawn in. ‘Because there are three banks of oars?’

  ‘Someone told you that.’ Dion smiled.

  ‘Unt
rue!’ Her eyes widened with innocence. ‘If a bireme has two decks, it stands to reason.’ She patted his arm playfully. ‘I don’t need to be a mathematician to work it out.’

  He grinned, a little unused to her familiar manner, but enjoying it nonetheless. ‘We’ve built nearly six of them now. But this is my flagship, the Liberty. It’s the biggest, and also the first trireme Roxana built.’

  ‘Roxana?’ Isobel frowned. ‘Isn’t that a woman’s name?’

  ‘She built everything you see here, and she runs it too. I’d be lost without her.’

  ‘Is she attractive?’

  ‘In her way.’ He chuckled. ‘But I think she has her eye on a friend of mine. Come, I’ll introduce you to her.’

  As Dion and Isobel continued toward the shipyards, he tried to think of something to say. He’d never struggled to find words with Chloe, and for some reason he’d thought it would be the same with Isobel, but already the silence was becoming uncomfortable; he could see that Isobel was pretending to examine every vessel they passed with interest while she waited for him to speak.

  ‘I saw the dolphin on your necklace. Shouldn’t a dolphin be on a silver necklace, for Silex?’

  ‘I prefer gold, but I asked Father’s jeweler to make me a necklace with a dolphin for this visit.’ She paused for a moment as she lifted up the solid gold dolphin to show it to him. Despite himself, he found his eyes drifting to the pale skin below. ‘I like the sea,’ she finished.

  ‘Can you sail?’

  ‘No.’ She laughed. ‘I’m a woman! Men do the sailing. But I like being on boats.’

  ‘What about horses?’

  ‘I prefer not to ride. It’s more comfortable aboard a ship. Whenever I ride I get sore.’ She patted the curve of her hip and behind, just below her slim waist.

  They now approached another trireme, this one obviously still under construction. The huge vessel rested in a deep, tiered depression, and there were hundreds of small wooden supports holding it in place, along with a sturdy timber frame.

  ‘Ah, there she is. Roxana!’

  Roxana glanced at them, but her attention immediately went back to the ship under construction. She was watching intently as workers on the top deck maneuvered an immense cut and polished log into place, tilting it up as ropes fastened to its end came tight, hauled by groups of workers at ground level.

  ‘Sire,’ Roxana said. ‘I’m a bit busy here.’

  Isobel looked shocked, but Dion laughed. ‘Carry on.’ He kept clear of the proceedings, pointing things out to Isobel. ‘She’s fitting the mast. It’s an important stage and she needs to concentrate.’

  ‘Keep it up or I’ll use your skins for sails!’ Roxana roared. The mast began to approach the vertical, but then started to tip. ‘Kalaphos!’ she shouted. ‘Get your crew over there to help!’

  A bunch of workers rushed to help the men hauling on the ropes. Some were Xanthians, but others were from Fort Liberty, people who’d made new lives in Xanthos. A dark-haired woman, dressed in sailor’s clothing more commonly seen on a man, bumped into Isobel as she dashed past, muttering an apology but never looking back.

  ‘Sorry,’ Dion said. ‘We shouldn’t bother them. If it went wrong, we’d lose months of hard work.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Isobel gave him a smile. She nodded toward a grassy bank above the shipyards. ‘Perhaps we could sit on the grass and watch?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  They left the frantic activity behind, looking for a place where the grass was soft and they could watch the harbor and the sea. Dion felt uncomfortable around Isobel, but she seemed far from uncomfortable around him. She held out a hand, and when he clasped it she began to settle herself, arranging the soft folds of her garment in her lap. When Dion sat down, she rearranged herself so that she sat close to him, their thighs touching.

  ‘If my father wins the election, he will be first consul of Phalesia,’ she said.

  ‘I hear he’s almost certain to win.’

  Her face lit up. ‘I hope he does. I’d like to know all the work has been worthwhile. My mother died when I was born, which means I’m hosting so many banquets that I’ve put on weight.’

  Glancing at the slender young woman, Dion raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Tell me about yourself,’ Isobel said.

  ‘You probably know all about me already.’

  She frowned. ‘I know some things, but I’m old enough to know that what I know is far from everything. Your mother was an eldran.’

  ‘Yes, she was.’ Dion waited.

  ‘And you have their abilities.’

  ‘Some of them. It’s something I still struggle with.’

  ‘Your family was killed when the Ileans seized Xanthos, all except your brother.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Isobel said, meeting his eyes. ‘I can’t imagine what that must have felt like. And then to have your brother finally make peace with Ilea, only to lose his life at the end. You have no one.’

  ‘Not true,’ he said. ‘I have my uncle. I have my friends, Cob, Finn, and Roxana.’

  ‘Do you have friends among your mother’s people?’

  ‘Among the eldren? I do . . . I did. We haven’t spoken in a long time. I’m sure you know about the Blackwell Mines.’

  ‘The eldren captured them from Tanus and won’t give them back.’

  Dion nodded, and then there was silence as they watched the work at the shipyards.

  ‘People say you were in love with Chloe, daughter of Aristocles,’ Isobel said, looking up at him a little fearfully, waiting to see what his reaction would be. ‘I spoke to her once. I always thought she was beautiful. I was a little frightened of her, to tell you the truth.’

  Dion looked away from the shipyards and out to sea. ‘I was. We went through a lot together.’

  ‘You went all the way to Lamara to rescue her.’

  He smiled. ‘I did. But I didn’t even know her then. It was on the way home that I learned how strong she was. We survived Cinder Fen together and faced the Ileans at the battle of Phalesia. But then . . .’

  ‘Then your brother banished you to the Wilds, and married her himself. You must have hated him.’

  ‘Hated Nikolas? No. I never did. He was always kind to me. It was only when they killed his wife and child that he changed. I never blamed him for it.’

  There was silence for a time, before Isobel spoke again.

  ‘Dion . . . May I call you that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll understand. If you . . . If you need time.’

  Dion watched the waves tumble onto the sandy shore, and then sighed. ‘She would want me to be happy. My uncle’s right. I need to move on.’

  He was pensive, before turning toward Isobel, staring into her intelligent eyes. ‘You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever spoken to like this. And I only just met you.’

  Isobel chuckled. ‘Well, we both know what your uncle and my father are trying to do.’ She became serious. ‘But let’s just start with getting to know each other. For now, my verdict is that this first meeting has gone very well.’

  ‘I would agree,’ Dion said with a smile.

  ‘And you’re as handsome as they said you were,’ she said, climbing to her feet. ‘Now, I’m only here for a few days. We should both make the best of our time. I hear there’s a waterfall in the hills, not far from the city. Would you like to show it to me?’

  ‘I would.’ Dion laughed.

  She took him by the hand, pulling him up.

  14

  Chloe’s eyes shot open. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She was lying on her pallet, in the dormitory at Athos. Her gaze flickered to the open window, seeing from the faintest beginnings of light that it was sometime before dawn.

  Wondering what had woken her, she sat up when she heard shouts, fierce male voices, distant, but growing louder by the moment.

  Something was happening.

  She rolled out of bed and threw on clothing.
Leaving her room, she immediately ran down the long corridor leading to the dormitory’s exit, passing empty room after empty room. She cried out, even though the four brothers generally woke long before her. ‘Wake up! Something’s wrong!’

  Out in the open, surrounded by the ancient ruins, she cocked her head, listening. She finally gazed up at the hillside, toward the western side of the island. The shouts were coming from the direction of Seer’s Cove.

  For a moment she hesitated. But when she heard another bellow, sounding closer than any before it, her gaze alighted on the grove of trees near the hill’s crest. Rather than climb the slope directly, she began to sprint toward the thin strip of evergreens, where she could see from the screen of trees in the way she had before.

  Chloe was breathless by the time she reached the crest. She weaved through the trees, and as soon as she had a vantage of the opposite side of the island and the hillside descending to Seer’s Cove, she stopped in shock.

  She could see half a dozen running men: swarthy, bare-chested warriors with curved swords. Her heart was already racing. But the sight of the raiders, with their weapons raised and kohl painted under their eyes, sent a chill along her spine.

  One of them pointed in the direction of the path of blue stone that led to the Oracle’s cave. He and two companions immediately started running toward the entrance, searching for the bounty of offerings made to the Oracle from far and wide. Another, slighter warrior, with pale eyes and streaks of gray in his hair despite the fact that he was still a young man, ran to the nearest of the ruins scattered around the cave and began searching for plunder near the strange glowing fires.

  Two more raiders were calling out to each other as they climbed the hill. Reaching the crest, they stopped when they saw the ruins of what had once been a great complex. The older of the two, a stocky, bearded man with a strong jaw, barked something at his younger companion, who was red-faced and panting, eyes wild with battle lust. They were evidently arguing about which building to approach first, with the wild-eyed younger man pointing in the direction of the academy, which, though small, was the grandest of the buildings still standing, while the bearded warrior was trying to pull him in the direction of the dormitory.