Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3)

by James Maxwell

  Hefting the collar, the gray-robed magus opened the gate once more and entered. He approached, even as Dion growled, filling the near-silence with a low, rasping rumble. A shiver of pain shook Dion from nose to tail as he felt the magus clamp the iron collar around his neck. Fastening the arrow through the hoop, Tarik tightened it to one of the first notches.

  ‘Now what?’ Palemon asked as Tarik left the cell and closed the gate behind him. ‘How long must we wait?’

  ‘One day,’ Zara replied. ‘If he becomes wild, it will happen within a day. We’ll return tomorrow.’

  For the first time, Dion realized that the feelings of encroaching wildness were gone. But with the collar around his neck, he couldn’t change his shape.

  He was trapped in the form of a dragon.

  31

  Palemon could barely contain himself as he walked down the stone-walled corridor. He’d slept little the previous night, too filled with anticipation, and now he glanced at Zara as she struggled to keep up with his long strides.

  ‘Sire, slow down,’ Zara said. ‘We don’t know what we’re going to find.’

  But he ignored her, passing the door that had once sealed the underground chamber from the world and approaching the long row of cages. Coming to a halt outside the barred gate of the third in the line, he peered in. The oil lamp had run out of fuel, and it was so dark he could barely see the shadowy outline of the beast within. He was forced to wait for Zara to arrive before the cage’s occupant became clear.

  Finally the sorceress approached and her staff lit up the area. Palemon saw that the black dragon inside the cell was looking out at him with a steadfast expression. A low growl came from deep within its broad chest as the thin, sweeping wings folded in to its back and then spread out again. The black scales and sharp teeth made it seem like a thing out of a nightmare.

  For the first time, he truly appreciated how invincible a warrior on dragon back would be in battle. Riding his powerful steed, he could command the sky, and strike an opposing force from above, or even circle behind. The tough hide was strong enough to stop all but the luckiest arrow. The claws on the dragon’s forelimbs could rip a man’s head from his shoulders or tear a full-grown horse into pieces.

  Palemon tried to remind himself that he was not looking at a dragon but at a man in dragon form. He finally gave up. He was looking at a weapon, a weapon that would soon be his to control.

  ‘Well?’ Palemon asked. ‘Is it wild? How will we know?’

  Zara walked up to the bars and spoke softly. ‘We are going to gouge out Isobel’s eyes before shoving a spear into her belly.’

  The dragon rushed the gate, snarling and roaring as it slammed into the bars, making the slender sorceress drop her staff and jump back. Crouching to pick it up, she smiled as she turned.

  ‘He is still in there. This is good, sire. Very good. We now know that when collared, they cannot shift from one shape to another. We also know that when collared, they don’t become wild. It is time.’

  Zara walked to the wall, near the Aleuthean script, and lifted the closest of the copper chains. She hoisted it high, examining every link, checking the strange symbols at the connecting points. Nodding in satisfaction, she then returned to the gate.

  ‘Remember what we can do to your woman and the child she carries,’ she said to the creature inside the cage.

  Without asking for help, she threw the bolt and hauled the gate open. Palemon admired her bravery as she stepped forward, narrowing the space between her and the dragon until she was five paces away, then three. Soon she was within range of its claws and then beside its head. Zara reached out and stroked the dragon’s face.

  ‘Never forget,’ she said to the black dragon, her voice so low that Palemon could only just hear her. ‘Never forget what we can do.’

  The dragon remained subdued as she demonstrated her power over the creature, but it wasn’t true dominance, and the hatred was clear in the dragon’s huge, almond-shaped eyes, narrowed with anger, and in the rumbling breath stirring at the back of its throat.

  Zara now lifted the copper chain and followed the contours of the black dragon’s face, reaching past the protuberances at the back of its head, and feeling behind the skull to reach for the collar.

  Palemon decided to enter the cell, eager to witness what would happen next. ‘How do you know what to do?’

  ‘It appears to be simple enough.’ Zara demonstrated was she was doing, despite the creature’s jaws being close enough to bite through her slender waist in a single snap. ‘See?’ She held up the midpoint of the length of chain. ‘This hooks onto the collar. We are left with two chains fastened to the connection point, like reins.’

  ‘Let me,’ Palemon said.

  The dragon whimpered as he stepped forward, taking the chain from her hands. As Zara had said, there were actually two sections of metal links, both joined to a connecting hoop in the middle. The central clasp was engraved with tiny symbols. The device was surprisingly light.

  With anticipation, Palemon leaned over the dragon’s head, his height enabling him to reach forward to take the collar. He levered open the connecting hoop and in one swift movement fastened the chains to the collar.

  He gasped.

  ‘What is it? Sire?’ Zara gripped his arm, concerned.

  Palemon waved her away. A pulsing rhythm connected the chain in his hand to the thoughts of the creature it was shackled to. The experience was visceral, understood in the same way that sound doesn’t need to be explained to a child. With the reins in his hand, he had a magical bond with the black dragon. He could feel what it felt: he knew that it was thirsty, and afraid, and ashamed at its own loss of autonomy. Palemon knew, without a doubt, that it was now bound to his will.

  He smiled.

  ‘Move,’ he said to the sorceress. ‘Step back. Open the gate – wide.’

  Zara exited the cell and opened the gate as far as possible, anxious but also curious.

  ‘Down,’ Palemon said to the dragon.

  A thrill coursed through him as the dragon dipped, bending a foreleg. Placing a foot on the limb, Palemon grunted as he shifted his weight to grab hold of one of the ridges behind the creature’s head. He pulled his body up and then settled himself astride its mighty back, feeling the power of the creature under him.

  ‘Forward,’ Palemon commanded.

  He held the reins tightly, one in each hand, as the dragon lumbered through the open gate until it had left the cell. He then turned it to face the wide passage.

  ‘Sire . . .’ Zara said. ‘Perhaps—’

  ‘Forward!’ Palemon roared.

  Feeling his desires instantly communicated through the magical chain, the dragon began to bound, racing ahead down the corridor, all four limbs carrying it along as fast as a galloping horse.

  Abandoning the wide-eyed sorceress, Palemon and his black steed left the cells in a heartbeat and climbed the sloped passage. On his command the creature turned to enter the paved floor of the tower’s central shaft and then the wings spread wide, easily accommodated in the shaft’s wide diameter. Each beat of its wings propelled Palemon higher and higher as he climbed to the summit, until he shot out of the tower and the dragon took wing on the open sky.

  The ground below passed by in a blur as the powerful black dragon sped forward, climbing higher and higher, until the creature and its rider were soaring above the clouds. Gazing down, Palemon saw the city shrink until it became the size of a dinner plate. He swiftly left behind the walled settlement of stone nestled against the shore of the deep blue sea, the connection point between the lands of the southern desert and the world.

  ‘Faster!’ Palemon commanded. The wings beat down furiously and the wind now whistled past the king’s face so quickly that his eyes watered and he could hear nothing besides the roar of air shrieking in his ears. With a start he wondered how the dragon could hear him and then he made a sudden realization.

  Higher. He projected the command mentally rather than sp
eaking it aloud. The copper reins quivered in his hands and the dragon climbed, obeying his will. In turn he could feel something of the dragon’s thoughts. He could sense frustration and weariness, and profound violation, but Palemon didn’t care; his steed was his to command.

  The afternoon sun was setting in the west and he put it at his back, leaving Malakai far behind as he sped through the sky, heading east until he saw an immense lake in the distance on his right. Remembering the maps he’d seen, he knew that this was Lake Tara, an important freshwater lake, fed by a snaking waterway of rapids and waterfalls from the deep interior of the southern continent. He was flying so fast that soon Lake Tara was behind him, rather than ahead.

  Teeth gritted, so high up that to fall would mean death in the smallest part of an instant, Palemon nonetheless felt soaring exhilaration as he continued onward. He cared nothing for the growing fatigue of the creature beneath him; when he returned he would feed it and let it rest. For now, he planned to revel in his newfound power and freedom.

  The terrain below was far greener than Imakale, and he knew he was in Shadria, a dominion of the Ilean Empire and a region that had revolted in the past, but was now firmly in the grip of King Kargan in Lamara. Continuing onward, he then saw a long coastline, perpendicular to the path of his flight. The stretch of water he was looking at was the Shadrian Passage, the wide waterway that separated Shadria from Ilea and divided the Salesian continent neatly in two.

  He ordered the dragon to fly lower as something caught his eye.

  The city of Verai, capital of Shadria, was larger and far more sprawling than Malakai. It grew from a hazy collection of manmade structures to a thriving metropolis of ziggurats and temples, with perfectly formed canals surrounded by markets and houses, and palm groves seeming to fill every vacant space. Palemon saw a great curved harbor opening up onto the Shadrian Passage, and then he noticed something that made him frown. He ordered the dragon to fly toward it.

  He was now low enough that there was little chance his winged steed would be mistaken for a bird, but his thoughts were far from the reaction in Verai as a dragon swooped overhead. He’d seen something worth investigating. Circling over the bustling city, slowly descending, he peered down as the slanted rays of the setting sun cast a reddish glow on the land below and the shoreline of the harbor came sharply into view.

  Palemon scanned the long beach, where dozens upon dozens of landing barges rested side by side. Workers and crews scurried about, apparently preparing the vessels for departure. His intuition told him that only something momentous would cause so many landing craft to make preparations at once.

  A worker dropped the barrel he was carrying and pointed up. Soon everyone was staring up at the dragon, transfixed at the sight of this magnificent black-winged creature soaring just a few hundred feet above.

  Back up! Palemon ordered. Take me across the passage.

  He felt pressure push him down into his seat as the dragon’s wings pounded the air, climbing the sky until it was flying just below the pillow-like clouds. Leaving Verai behind, Palemon watched the ripples of ocean waves speeding past. It took time to cross the water, and he could sense the dragon flagging, its thoughts becoming filled with despair and exhaustion, but he ordered it on regardless.

  A new stretch of barren coastline took form: the land of Ilea. Palemon was approaching the far side of the Shadrian Passage. Hugging the shore was a dark mass, like a congregation of ants.

  Take me closer.

  Palemon kept his distance as he soared overhead, but he knew without a doubt that he was looking at an army. Ilean orange-and-yellow banners snapped in the breeze; the colors were everywhere, and the army encampment was immense. Lean galleys bobbed on the waves, ready to carry the commanders’ orders to Verai. Several men paced the rocky shoreline, making plans and gazing to the west expectantly. The landing barges would come any day.

  And Palemon knew what the Ilean king, Kargan, wanted. He wanted to regain the city that Palemon had claimed as his own.

  That’s enough, Palemon commanded. Back to Malakai.

  32

  Chloe struggled to hold onto the plank, wondering how much time had passed, wondering when her strength would give out.

  Tossed in the relentless motion of the open sea, she kept her head down so that her dark hair could ward off the worst of the sun’s rays. She wanted to lick her lips, but her tongue was so swollen that it filled her mouth like a lump of dry wood. A throbbing headache pounded at her temples. She felt both nauseated and starved.

  She was drifting, and to try to kick in one direction or another would serve no purpose other than to exhaust her. Now and then she lifted her head and scanned the horizon, but it was never anything but empty. The ocean was vast, and there was next to no chance that a passing ship would pick her up. She was beginning to believe that this was it; this was how her life was going to end.

  She thought about the life she’d led, once filled with so much love and hope. Her greatest regret was clear. Liana was right: the moment her father had suggested marriage to Nikolas, she should have told him no. She should have gone to the Wilds and helped Dion come to terms with who he was. Together, they could have been happy.

  She hadn’t sought out magic; the power had found her. She’d always wanted to be a healer and maybe even a leader, someone who showed the world that women could make a difference just like men. Yet when she’d been betrothed to Nikolas, and promised the life of leadership and prestige she’d thought she always wanted, she’d known that it wasn’t enough. Meeting Dion had opened her heart to love.

  Bitterness filled her as she drifted. Her father. Dion. The gods took everyone she loved away from her. And now they were going to take her life.

  Squinting against the bright sun, she looked at the wrist-thick length of polished wood tangled in her arms. It was increasing the difficulty of holding onto the plank, and she stared at it for some time before realizing that it was her staff. As she grew weaker, she decided to let it go. It wasn’t much effort to release it, and soon she was watching it drift away.

  Her eyes were still on the floating staff as it rose and fell on the waves, when she heard a piercing shriek.

  She lifted her head and recoiled. A dragon flew toward her. With another loud cry it saw her and swooped down. Lithe and lean, with glossy scales of shining silver and wings tucked in close to its body, it was ready to snatch her out of the sea and devour her.

  Fear jolted her into action. Chloe looked for her staff, but it had drifted a stone’s throw away. The dragon plummeted, soon close enough for her to make out the grass-green color of its narrowed eyes and see the curved teeth in its reptilian jaws, large enough to swallow her in a single mouthful. It reached out with grasping claws, but Chloe ducked under them and it rose back into the sky, preparing to descend for another strike.

  Forced to choose, she let go of the plank and used her last reserves of strength to swim. She paddled frantically and reached out for her staff but her hand splashed on nothing. Kicking hard, groaning with effort and exhaustion, she tried again, and this time her fingers closed around it.

  She looked for the dragon, scanning the sky in terror. It was turning in a tight circle, screeching as it plunged down to meet her.

  Then she remembered.

  There were no more wildren.

  The dragon flew down to her, but this time slowed its speed, wings beating at the sea while it hovered. Chloe looked into the angular eyes. This time, when she saw their grass-green color, she understood. She gave a short sob. She knew this dragon. She’d flown on its back before.

  The dragon lowered itself as much as it could, struggling to keep its wings above the surface. A wave lifted Chloe up as the huge creature leaned one forelimb into the water, and with a surge of effort she grabbed hold, close to the knee, before a second wave carried her still higher, and with a sudden burst that made her weak muscles scream, she pulled herself up.

  The dragon tilted further, dangerously close
to the water. Grunting, Chloe lunged, reaching out and grabbing hold of one of the knobs behind its head. She cried out as she expended her last energy to pull herself onto the dragon’s back.

  Then, with her legs on either side of the creature’s flanks, darkness overcame her and her head fell down onto the leathery skin of its back.

  Chloe jolted awake when she felt the dragon make contact with the ground. Blinking as she looked around her, she saw that she was on a tiny, uninhabited island, little more than a rocky hill and a white beach with a few scraggly trees on the far side. The dragon turned its head, and she knew she was being asked to get off. She slipped down from its leathery back, falling to the sand.

  She was so weak that she sprawled on the ground. Her lips were as dry as parchment. Nausea made her stomach churn. Her skull was pounding with a regular tempo. Lifting her head, she managed to see mist dispersing as the dragon changed its shape.

  The mist revealed Liana in the dragon’s place.

  ‘Can you stand?’ Liana said as she rushed to Chloe’s side. The eldran crouched and lifted Chloe under the armpits, hauling her to her feet.

  Chloe nodded weakly at her friend, her tongue too swollen to talk.

  Liana looked the same as ever: a pretty eldran with a heart-shaped face, slight of build, with shoulder-length silver hair and pale-green eyes. Wearing a deerskin tunic and no shoes on her feet, she looked like an eldran in every way. Perhaps she seemed older, her bearing somehow more mature, and there was a shadow in her eyes, but it might simply have been concern for Chloe.

  ‘Shh,’ Liana soothed. ‘I know this place. There’s a spring. Just a little farther. You can do it.’

  Liana helped her over the uneven terrain, taking her in the direction of the small grove of trees. Just past the nearest tree, at the base of a flat rock, was a small pool of water, fed from somewhere underneath. Chloe collapsed onto the ground, her face mere inches from the pool. She cupped her hands and reached out. The feel of the cool water against her skin was one of the most pleasant sensations she’d ever felt.