Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3)

by James Maxwell

  The wetness only served to highlight how dry her mouth was; she couldn’t even lick her lips as she lifted her hands, moaning as the first touch of blessed liquid moistened her tongue. She missed getting most of it into her mouth, but a small trickle touched the back of her throat and she reached out again and brought more water to her lips, her tongue finally able to move. The next time, she slurped at her hands, gulping down mouthful after mouthful. Her headache faded away in an instant. Sensation came back to her lips. Her tongue no longer felt twice its normal size. Her thoughts became focused on more than her thirst, and she began to take stock of where she was.

  ‘Small sips,’ Liana said.

  Chloe wanted to drink the entire pool to the bottom, but she was a healer and knew the wisdom of the eldran’s words. Forcing herself to turn away from the pool, she sat up and met her friend’s eyes.

  ‘How?’ she croaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again, speaking more firmly the second time. ‘How did you . . . ?’

  Sitting beside her, Liana looked sad. ‘Today is the last day of spring.’

  ‘I don’t . . . ?’

  ‘It’s the day of Dion’s wedding. Eiric didn’t want me to go, but I went anyway. And then . . . when I arrived in Xanthos . . . I discovered Dion had vanished, and his bride was captured in Phalesia. They said you’d gone after them. The short, bald man—’

  ‘Cob,’ Chloe said.

  ‘Yes, that was his name. He said that he thought the people to blame were in Malakai. I left to see what I could learn, and then I found the wreckage of a ship near some sailors making camp on a beach. They told me you’d been lost at sea.’ She put her hand against Chloe’s forehead. ‘And then I found you.’

  Chloe regarded the young eldran at her side. She hadn’t seen Liana since the reclaiming of Sindara, and she had changed. Gone was the uncertainty. Liana had blossomed into a confident young woman.

  ‘Chloe . . . I didn’t know everyone thought you were dead. I last saw you with Zachary. I thought you’d decided to return to your home, and then . . . the fighting started . . .’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Chloe said. ‘I understand.’

  Chloe cupped her hands and drank more water, feeling strength return with every mouthful.

  ‘How is Eiric?’

  ‘He is who he is.’ Liana looked down at the ground.

  ‘Is there something between you?’

  Liana sighed. ‘I don’t know. I love him, and I know he loves me, but every time I get close to him something happens to push us apart. He’s so consumed with being a leader that he forgets a king can also be gentle. Triton was unyielding, so Eiric thinks he has to be too. Zachary . . . Even though Eiric is his son, he tells me I shouldn’t accept him as he is, not until he’s found his way.’

  ‘Wise as ever. How is Zachary?’

  ‘Old,’ Liana said with a smile. ‘He spends a lot of time alone.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘So what should we do now? Isobel is long gone. We don’t know what these men wanted with her, or Dion.’ She glanced at Chloe. ‘They were going to be married today. It must be hard for you.’

  Staring into the pool, it was some time before Chloe replied. ‘I was jealous,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Of course I was. I still am. But I have to help them.’

  ‘Then I’m going to help you.’

  ‘Can you fly?’

  ‘I need to rest, and so do you, but the answer is yes.’

  ‘Then we’ll rest. And then we’ll go to Malakai.’

  33

  ‘How big was this army you saw?’ Kyphos asked.

  ‘Too big,’ Palemon grunted, pacing the length of the throne room, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Kargan has moved swiftly. The barges were ready to depart. They’ll cross the Shadrian Passage and bring the army across. Then the Ileans will be heading our way.’ Palemon looked out to sea, wondering what his next move should be. ‘These relics of Nisos the Archmagus work as they should. We have six sets of copper chains, but only one dragon, a dragon that won’t eat and grows weaker by the day.’ He pounded a fist into his palm. ‘I can feel it. We’re so close! Power. We need power. We need to seize the initiative if we are ever going to get the ships we need.’

  When Kyphos didn’t reply, Palemon turned away from the window, glancing at the stocky warrior, who was gnawing at his lip.

  ‘You have something to say, Kyphos?’ Palemon walked over and stared down at him. ‘Out with it.’

  ‘Sire, while you and the sorceress have been busy in the Sky Tower, I’ve been spending time in the city. There is . . . something I’ve been meaning to show you. The solution to our problem might be closer than you think.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Come, let me show you. You can make your mind up for yourself.’

  Kyphos led Palemon out of the palace and through the city streets. As the two men strode side by side, walking quickly, Palemon occasionally glanced at his right hand man but stayed silent. Together they followed the broad avenue that led to the harbor before turning into a side street that took them to the city’s main market square.

  The market was bustling. Stall after stall lined the square’s perimeter, where people in colorful linen tunics and desert dwellers in loose burnooses browsed the goods on offer. A central fountain spilled water from the mouth of a dolphin into a marble basin, and aromas of grilling meat wafted over from some of the food vendors. Palemon cast Kyphos an inquisitive look, but the hunchback was grim-faced and close-mouthed as he crossed the square. Anyone who saw the imposing king, unmistakable by his gray-streaked braided beard, and the stooped frame of the man who walked at his side, blanched and moved swiftly out of the way.

  Kyphos came to a halt in front of a stall, unremarkable compared to any of the others on both sides, where a dark-haired young woman was selling fruit and vegetables.

  ‘Watch,’ Kyphos said.

  The woman handed an old priest in a faded yellow robe a heavy cluster of grapes. Placing the grapes in his basket, he handed out a copper coin, but the woman shook her head.

  ‘You can pay my husband,’ the young woman said with a smile and a nod to the man at her side, who was taking coins and balancing them on a scale before offering change.

  ‘Well?’ Palemon asked. ‘What am I here to see?’

  ‘Look at her,’ Kyphos murmured.

  Palemon frowned and watched the busy market stall. The woman had pale skin and black hair that was streaked with silver despite her youth. She had a lithe, willowy build, with slim arms and a slender neck, and was pretty, in a delicate, elfin fashion, but it was her eyes that were both strange and captivating. One orb had an iris of emerald green, while the other was light brown.

  ‘She never takes the money herself,’ Kyphos said.

  Palemon saw a necklace at the woman’s neck, a thin copper chain holding a round medallion. The medallion had a sheaf of wheat embossed in the center.

  ‘You think . . . ?’ Palemon started. ‘But she’s wearing a necklace.’

  ‘The king of Xanthos wore a necklace also. And the metal might not be pure.’

  Palemon contrasted the young woman with her husband. A few years older, he had a square face and a brawny build, with short dark hair and a manner of open friendliness with the customers. Faces like his were everywhere, whereas the woman unquestionably stood out from the other people in the market.

  ‘She isn’t the first I’ve seen with strange eyes or silver-streaked hair, but she bears the marks stronger than any other.’ Kyphos turned to Palemon. ‘The queen of Xanthos was a pure-blooded eldran and no one knew, not even her own family. After the fall of Aleuthea, people have become lax in their vigilance.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Sire. There are eldren in the population.’

  Palemon tugged on the braids of his beard, thinking for a moment, before he came to a conclusion and pushed through the crowd to approach the stall. As citizens turned to face him, indignant glares became expressions of fear when they saw the broad-shouldered king with the dark, penetra
ting eyes – the strange new ruler of their city. Reaching the front, he lifted his chin and stared at the woman eye to eye. He was tall, and she was just as tall as he was.

  Looking slightly panicked, she wrung her hands behind the table of wares. ‘King . . .’ The young fruit seller cast a frightened look at her husband.

  Palemon turned to Kyphos, who had followed him but looked as if he had no idea what his king was going to do next. ‘Give me a silver coin.’

  Looking perplexed, Kyphos handed one over.

  Palemon reached out to the woman. ‘Take this coin.’

  ‘If you want to buy . . .’

  ‘Take it!’ Palemon barked.

  ‘My husband . . .’

  ‘I said take it, girl.’ Glaring at her, staring unblinkingly into her odd-colored eyes, Palemon thrust his hand at her, matching her uncertainty with an unbending will of iron.

  Reaching into his open palm, the young woman hesitantly took the silver coin. She held it for the briefest instant before her nose wrinkled and she set the coin down on the table.

  ‘Good enough for me,’ Palemon said.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ The young woman bit her lip, evidently wondering if she was receiving a gift or an obligation.

  Palemon glanced at the husband, evaluating him along with the wife, and decided the man wouldn’t present any trouble. Inclining his head at Kyphos, he walked a short distance away while the perplexed woman stared at his departing back.

  ‘She may be, or she may not be,’ Palemon said. ‘But here is what you are going to do. Seize her, seize her parents. If she has eldran blood, then one of her parents will too. There is no point in questioning them; it’s likely that they don’t even know. Kill the husband if he gets in the way—’

  Kyphos frowned. ‘And if there are children?’

  ‘Children?’ Palemon scowled. ‘Use your own judgment.’

  He looked back, seeing that the stall was now deserted, the crowd hurrying away as if it was tainted by his visit. The young woman and her husband were still watching with wide eyes.

  ‘Listen to me, Kyphos. I want you to round up anyone in the city with odd-colored eyes. Hair is easily changed, but the eyes don’t lie. Start immediately. Root them all out. I’m going to speak with Zara. Do not fail me in this. Understood?’

  Kyphos hesitated and then nodded. ‘Understood, sire.’

  Palemon strode away, leaving Kyphos alone in the market, watching the frightened woman.

  Two days later, Palemon stood on the stone ledge that circled the top of the cylindrical Sky Tower, just below the summit.

  With Zara’s help, he now understood its purpose.

  He gazed down at the ground far below and imagined the sensation of falling. The height was great enough that the plunge would easily kill a man, breaking his body, shattering his skull on the paved stones at the tower’s base.

  Lifting his head, he looked across the gap to the far side. Standing on the same ledge and facing him were seven captives, four men and three women, each with a soldier standing beside them. The soldiers held poles with metal clasps gripping their captives’ throats. Some of the people Kyphos’s search had unearthed were old and others young. They all had eyes open wide with terror, wailing and moaning in a way that made Palemon wish he’d thought of gagging them. At the end of the row of captives, first in the line, was the pretty young woman from the market. Streams of tears poured down her face as her lips moved in prayer.

  The Sky Tower was the same as it always was – wide enough to easily accommodate the biggest dragon, with a stairway leading down from the stone platform, curling around the edge of the inner wall – except for one change. Just below the ledge, iron chain, strong but easily removed, now stretched across the gap, connected from one hook to another, forming a net over the hole.

  Becoming impatient, Palemon finally saw the slender figure of Zara, as always clad in her figure-hugging dress, climbing up the stairway. Stopping just below the ledge, she looked everything over before nodding.

  ‘We are ready, sire,’ she called.

  Palemon nodded back to her. He then met the eyes of the soldier at the end of the row. ‘Do it.’

  The soldier holding the sobbing young fruit seller took a deep breath and used his pole to force his captive to the edge of the platform, guiding her by her collared neck. Gasping and choking, with both hands trying to pry the metal clasp from her throat, she tried to resist, but the soldier was strong and determined, and he forced her to the very edge, until her toes were over the drop. His mouth tightening, the soldier then moved quickly.

  He pushed a lever to open the collar around the woman’s neck. In the same instant, he shoved her with the pole, prodding her sharply between her shoulder blades.

  She screamed and tumbled off the edge, falling through the wide holes in the net of iron chain while Palemon leaned forward to peer down and witness the inevitable outcome. He waited for the thud of her body as she struck hard stone. He was expecting it so much that he had his teeth gritted: he didn’t actually want her to die; that wasn’t his objective. Her limbs clawed at the air as she fell with her back to the ground, staring wide-eyed up at him.

  Suddenly Palemon gasped.

  She vanished in a heartbeat. A cloud of white mist obscured her body, filling the entire bottom half of the shaft. The mist flickered, like sheet lightning in a storm.

  There was no thud of her body breaking on the flagstones. Instead, he heard the snapping sound of wings.

  A mighty winged creature flew up out of the cloud, wings beating the last shreds of white into nothingness. The dragon screamed, an ear-splitting shriek that must have been heard all over the city. It launched itself upward, heading directly for the open sky above and the promise of freedom. With odd-colored eyes, a narrow head that reminded him of a snake, and wings like a bat, its color was somewhere between silver and black and it was about half the size of the dragon that was the king of Xanthos, still penned below the tower.

  The dragon shrieked again when it struck the net of iron chain, trying in vain to fly through and make its escape. But now it was too big to get through the holes. Every onlooker watched wide-eyed as the creature crashed against one wall and then the other before it began to tire.

  Weakened by its struggles, the wings began to beat more slowly as the charcoal-gray dragon realized there was no chance of escape. It lost height, knocking against the wall once more before falling to the ground. Palemon gazed down from above, leaning over the ledge to see. He watched the slaves assembled at the bottom run forward and throw more lengths of iron chain over the beast, standing around it in a circle, grunting as they held it down. The scar-faced magus, Tarik, then came forward and clamped an iron collar around its neck. Soldiers stood by with heavy crossbows, keeping a wary eye on the monster in their midst. Tarik then fastened a set of copper reins to the collar.

  Immediately the dragon settled.

  Palemon felt a thrill of satisfaction as the magus led the creature away by the reins. He glanced across at Zara, and she smiled triumphantly.

  ‘Next!’ Palemon called.

  The next captive was a middle-aged man with black, wiry hair cut close to his scalp and darting eyes that were a pale shade of green. Moaning with fear, the man struggled against the soldier behind him, but with a collar around his neck and a dagger pressed to his side, he was soon pushed forward. The soldier levered the collar open and kicked him in the back with a booted heel.

  The captive’s scream echoed in the hollow tower as he fell through a hole in the iron net and struck the ground seconds later. With a sharp crack, he was changed from a living, breathing human into a motionless heap. The slaves dragged the body away, leaving a bright-red smear on the stone.

  ‘Next!’ Palemon called again.

  The next captive looked as if she thought she was living in a nightmare and would surely soon wake, barely struggling as she was released and pushed through the net. Palemon watched intently as the old woman cried
out, her limbs flailing as he waited for her to hit the hard stone.

  But his breath caught as he saw the cloud of pale mist. A flying creature burst out of the ether, a monster that resembled the woman, but with jaws enlarged and bat-like wings sprouting from her shoulder blades.

  The woman had eldran blood, but she was no dragon. This one was a fury.

  Palemon glanced at Zara and shook his head.

  Zara issued orders down to the soldiers. A moment later two crossbows twanged in quick succession. The fury shrieked as the bolts struck home, and plummeted to the ground, writhing and twitching before the slice of a blade silenced the creature, pumping its lifeblood over the stone. The fury’s corpse was dragged away.

  Palemon called out yet again. ‘Next!’

  34

  Dion’s eyes were thin slits, breath rumbling in his chest as he watched yet another dragon herded into a cell. Confused ramblings washed over him, feelings of terror and bewilderment crashing through his mind. For a time, he believed they were his own thoughts, but then he realized they were coming from the new occupants of the other cells.

  Why did they do this to me?

  Can anyone hear me? I think I can hear you. Please, someone talk to me.

  No, no, no, no . . .

  She’s dead. And now . . . this . . . I truly hope she’s in a better place.

  Please, Helios, help me.

  The flood of terror eventually subsided, then faded altogether.

  He was still exhausted from his flight all the way to the far side of the Shadrian Passage. Palemon had urged speed, and the enthrallment of the chains gave Dion no choice but to obey.

  And now he was starving, intentionally taking neither food nor water.

  Eventually his eyes closed. Time passed as he slept.

  He lifted his head as two sorcerers, both carrying staffs, approached the gate to his cell. One of them was short and had savage burn marks on his face. He remembered his name: Tarik. The other was also a magus, a tall, lean man in a gray robe.