Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3)

by James Maxwell

  Finally the Nexotardis was moving, the first of the biremes to head back toward the Chasm. Two more warships followed after, and then another three. In a ragged column, they began to pick up speed. Soon each flat-bottomed ship was skimming over the water. The blades of the oars churned furiously, moving back and forth in the time it takes to draw a sharp breath. The wind picked up as Kargan clenched his fists at his sides, willing speed out of the crew of the Nexotardis and from every other ship he might be able to save. He crossed the deck and looked into the Chasm, with its narrow breadth and mile-high cliffs, then glanced back at the dragons swarming over half the fleet he’d brought from Lamara.

  Their battle was nearly over. Most of the biremes were floating without crews to guide them. The occasional trio of dragons fought over one warship or another, but the majority were regrouping in the sky above, sunlight shining off their scarlet bodies.

  The towering cliffs enveloped the fleeing biremes, casting them into shadow. The narrow defile that was the Chasm’s entrance was now the only thing separating the two forces. With sheer rock walls on both sides, it was nonetheless wide enough for Kargan to see the scores of red dragons hovering in the air above the ships they’d captured, wings beating down, each rider bringing his mount beside another. The dozen surviving ships of Kargan’s fleet sped as fast as they could for the waters of the Maltherean Sea. But they would never be able to move fast enough to escape.

  Then something happened that made Kargan gasp.

  At the end of the Chasm, the surface of the sea erupted at over a dozen places. For a moment everything was a confusion of spray and mist.

  Then fourteen silver-scaled dragons climbed the sky, forming a line, blocking the Chasm’s entrance. No, Kargan realized, thirteen silver dragons. One, in the middle of the group, was as black as night.

  The red dragons and the eldren faced each other at the same height.

  Kargan gripped the rail tightly.

  Dion, Eiric, and twelve powerful dragons from Sindara flew higher until they were hovering in the sky. They were facing a force several times their number. Their enemies had warriors with sharp weapons, and sorcerers with staffs.

  But the king of Xanthos and the king of the eldren were undaunted.

  Across the void, Dion’s gaze rested on one of the dragon riders, a tall warrior with gray-streaked hair and a braided beard. Somehow Palemon had escaped from the ancient city. If he chose to fight, Dion would do everything in his power to kill him.

  Collared, unarmed, Dion had been no match for Palemon. But now he was a powerful dragon, with wings as black as night, far larger than the scarlet creature Palemon had enslaved to his will. Eiric was bigger still, the most immense dragon Dion had ever seen, and would strike terror into his enemies.

  And Dion knew what it was that Palemon truly wanted.

  As the two forces faced off, neither making the first move, Dion was well aware that every passing moment gave Kargan time to make his escape. He watched Palemon, seeing the copper chains in one hand, broadsword in the other. He remembered what it had felt like to be under the power of those chains.

  Palemon, Dion projected his thoughts toward Palemon’s dragon. I know you can hear me.

  There was a slight delay, but then Palemon’s menacing voice came back to him, relayed through the connection between dragons. You will never win this fight.

  True. But know this. If you choose to fight, I will kill you. And more importantly for your people, the eldren with me will destroy the ships you’ve captured. What is it you truly want?

  As time dragged out, the tension building, Dion waited for his enemy to make the first move.

  ‘What are we waiting for, sire?’ Zara cried. ‘We should attack!’

  Palemon’s dragon, the same fiery color as the blood dripping from his sword, kept its place in the sky beside Zara’s. There were more dragons behind and below him, dozens and dozens of them, each carrying an armored soldier or a skilled magus. The air was filled with the sound of beating wings.

  Clutching the reins of copper in his left hand, Palemon shifted in his seat, rotating slowly, until he was gazing down at the vessels he’d seized from the Ileans. He counted them to himself. There were exactly a dozen seaworthy vessels. The crews had been plucked off their top decks like weeds from a garden, but the oarsmen, no doubt slaves to a man, would be cowering at their benches, ready to serve.

  He glanced at Kyphos on his other side. ‘Kyphos!’

  ‘Sire?’

  ‘How many ships do we need to rescue our people from Necropolis?’

  ‘About a dozen, sire.’

  ‘So we have what we need?’

  Kyphos hesitated, scanning, and then nodded. ‘I believe we do.’

  Palemon narrowed his eyes at the eldren blocking the Chasm. He longed to take the battle to them, but there would be losses, and risk to the ships he’d captured. More than anything, he had to save the people he’d left behind in Necropolis.

  ‘Then let’s get these ships back to Malakai.’ He raised his sword into the sky.

  ‘But, sire—’ Zara protested.

  ‘You heard me, sorceress. Our people need us!’ Palemon growled. ‘Let our enemies lick their wounds. We are now unstoppable. Another day will come.’

  He issued a command, and his dragon left the formation. A second command made the creature put on speed, and a moment later the rest of the red dragons fell in around him.

  Palemon swooped down toward the sea. He flew over his new fleet, smiling in grim satisfaction.

  54

  Chloe climbed the familiar steps leading up to her father’s villa. She couldn’t believe how little had changed. Her favorite rose bush was blooming. A step was cracked that hadn’t been before. There was a new statue on the side of the winding path, a life-sized pony carved out of a single block of white marble. She smiled. Sophia had always liked horses.

  She gazed up at the villa as she neared. For a time it was occupied by Nilus, but now someone new was living at the home of Aristocles, who had been one of Phalesia’s longest-serving first consuls, a man who lived on in memory if not in life.

  Reaching the terrace, she stopped for a moment and looked around. The stone rail needed cleaning, but the paved floor was swept. The views of the city were still breathtaking, and she could clearly see the temples, the library, the lyceum, and the agora. The marble columns at the cliff-top Temple of Aldus made her remember the moment when she’d first discovered that Dion had eldran blood. Even the terrace itself carried memories: she’d experienced an earthquake that nearly killed her sister while standing in this very spot.

  Finally Chloe dispelled the memories. She tore her eyes away from the view and walked toward the open doorway, leaning in as she peered inside. ‘Hello?’

  She heard a shriek that made her smile. Then suddenly her sister was running at her with arms open, grabbing hold of her tightly. ‘You’re back!’

  ‘Of course.’ Chloe returned Sophia’s hug. ‘I promised you I would be.’

  Sophia looked well; her wounds had healed and she was no longer clad in a novice’s uniform, instead wearing an embroidered silk chiton with a pale-blue ribbon in her hair, the color of the sky.

  She dragged Chloe inside, leading her by the hand. A moment later a tall, broad-shouldered man with close-cropped curly hair and craggy skin appeared at the entrance to the kitchen, his hands dusty with flour. Amos looked abashed at his own palms as he quickly wiped them on his expensive silk tunic.

  ‘Like a pair of twins,’ he said, grinning and shaking his head.

  ‘Uncle Amos! Chloe’s twice my size,’ Sophia protested.

  ‘Perhaps not that different, Sophia. You’re growing more quickly than you know. Chloe, please, come in, come in . . .’ Amos looked anxious. ‘You know I don’t have to invite you in? This is your home too.’ He glanced at his hands. ‘We were making meal cakes,’ he said, smiling apologetically. ‘If I’d known you were coming . . .’

  ‘I wanted to sur
prise you both,’ Chloe said, returning his smile.

  ‘Dion and Isobel?’ Amos asked. Sophia bit her lip, facing Chloe as she waited for her to respond.

  ‘Dion was well enough, last I saw him,’ Chloe said, choosing her words carefully. ‘In truth, I have a long story to tell.’

  ‘Uncle Amos, can Chloe have her old room again?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘Of course she can.’

  Despite Amos’s protestations, Chloe wrapped her arms around him, ignoring all the flour. She then held him back to stare into his face. ‘I almost forgot. Congratulations on your appointment, First Consul.’

  ‘Please, don’t call me that,’ Amos said. He sobered as he looked around the reception. ‘In this house, it’s your father who will always be first consul.’

  ‘I can feel him here too,’ Chloe said sadly. ‘I keep expecting him to come in and start waving his arms, ranting on about one vote or another.’

  ‘Listen, Chloe . . .’ Amos swore under his breath, shaking his head. ‘I’ve never had a way with words . . .’ He tried again. ‘I always promised your father that I would look after his daughters, and it is a promise I will give my heart and soul to fulfill. If . . . If it’s all right with you, I’ll raise Sophia, and I’d like you to live here too.’

  ‘Please, Chloe,’ Sophia said.

  A sudden surge of emotion struck Chloe without warning. She put a hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to cry.

  ‘Chloe?’ Sophia asked. ‘Are you all right?’

  She forced the words out. ‘I’m fine.’

  Chloe had been cursed with magic, but it was magic that enabled her to save Liana and Dion. After breaking the spell, her raging power had caught up with her, but on the way home, using the things she’d learned at Athos, meditating constantly, she’d managed to tame it once again.

  For months she’d been trapped on Athos, but despite not finishing her training, she knew she’d done the right thing to leave to help the people she loved.

  Now she had a home once again. She had people who cared for her. She had a homeland to defend.

  ‘Chloe?’ Sophia asked again.

  She cleared her throat, steadying herself. ‘I’m just glad to see you both so happy.’

  ‘Listen, Chloe,’ Amos said. ‘You look like more than anything you need to rest. Have dinner with us, and when you’re ready, you can tell us what happened.’

  Chloe nodded.

  With another smile, Amos returned to preparing the meal, and Chloe gazed around the reception, surprised that it looked the same as it always had. It was she who felt different.

  ‘I like your ribbon,’ she said to Sophia, who touched it with a self-conscious smile. Something occurred to Chloe, and she raised her voice so Amos could hear her. ‘What about Nilus? Did you ever find him?’

  ‘We’re still looking,’ Amos called back. ‘But never fear, we’ll find him, one way or another.’

  Chloe was surprised when Sophia took her arm. Meeting her eyes intently, Sophia spoke in an undertone. ‘When Zachary was here for Dion’s wedding, I told him about Father, and he offered to help me find Nilus.’

  Chloe wasn’t surprised; Zachary and Aristocles had been close friends. She put a hand to her mouth. ‘And?’

  ‘We don’t have to worry about Nilus anymore.’

  Far away in Sarsica, in a region of vineyards and undulating landscape, another villa sat on a hill, overlooking the rows of carefully manicured plants trailing from one stake to another.

  Parmella, a matronly servant – Nilus’s only servant – checked on the living room, apprehension gnawing at her stomach. She watched her master, unseen and unnoticed. As he often did, Nilus was standing at the window, admiring the view as he drank wine from a golden goblet.

  She knew him well enough to know that he was about to run out of wine. True to form, he set the cup down on the nearby table and lifted the earthenware jug, tilting the mouth toward the goblet.

  ‘Parmella,’ he called out, frowning when he saw that the jug was nearly empty. ‘Parmella!’

  ‘What is it, Lord?’ Parmella came forward.

  Nilus rapped the side of the jug with his fingertip. ‘Get me more wine,’ he said. ‘Enough to last the evening.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course, Lord.’

  Taking the jug, Parmella left the kitchen to trudge to the store room at the rear of the house. Meanwhile Nilus returned his gaze to the distant rows of grape vines and the slaves moving slowly from one to the next as they tended the stems.

  Entering the store room, Parmella’s chest was heaving as she set the jug down on a bench. She reminded herself that she was now a rich woman, able to enjoy an early retirement. Nilus was an exile, a traitor and murderer. Tension formed in her neck and shoulders as with shaking hands she reached up to a shelf.

  The small wooden box was hidden behind the jars of olives and cheese. Parmella kept her ears pricked, listening intently for the sound of footsteps as she took the box and set it down beside the empty wine jug. It was tied with a blue ribbon, the color of the sky, and fastened with a dainty bow.

  She knew she had to move swiftly now, but fear was causing her fingers to fumble with the ribbon. Finally she removed the lid. For a long moment she stared at the box’s contents, transfixed by the sight of the black powder inside.

  ‘Parmella!’ Nilus called from the living room.

  Blood roaring in her ears, Parmella picked up the box and tilted its contents into the wine jug. She tapped it against the jug’s mouth, making sure all of the powder entered the vessel. She then put the lid on the box and slid it back into its hiding place on the shelf.

  ‘Parmella!’

  She took the jug to the barrel and filled it with wine. Red liquid splashed into the container, wetting her trembling hands as she struggled with something she’d done a thousand times. When the jug was full, she set it down on the bench and wiped her hands with a nearby rag.

  She took the jug and returned to the reception. Nilus was still standing at the window. He scowled at her.

  ‘What took you so long?’

  Fortunately he wasn’t the type to notice her drawn face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lord.’

  He looked pointedly at his empty goblet, and Parmella fought to keep her hands steady as she filled it. Immediately he lifted the goblet and tilted it back, drinking a long swallow.

  ‘Well?’ He glared at her. ‘You can go.’

  ‘Yes, Lord.’

  Parmella set down the jug and trudged away, but rather than leave the reception completely, she hung back near the hallway leading to the store room. She watched as Nilus contemplated his vineyards. As always, he drank quickly, muttering under his breath.

  She didn’t know whether she was afraid that it would happen, or that it wouldn’t.

  But then Nilus suddenly staggered. He put his goblet down on the table and raised a hand to his temple.

  Parmella approached him once again. ‘Is everything all right, Lord?’

  He turned to face her, his expression suddenly stricken. He took great gulps of air. His face was steadily turning white.

  ‘Wha—?’

  His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, sprawling on top of the table, knocking the empty goblet onto its side. He stared at Parmella as she came closer until she was standing over him. He toppled onto his back.

  She knew she had made a promise. It was important that she said these next words.

  ‘I am to give you a message,’ she said. ‘This is for Aristocles.’

  Nilus twitched and shuddered as he looked up at her.

  The name of his old friend was the last sound he ever heard.

  55

  It was late in the evening and Chloe stood at the top of the sloped embankment, staring out to sea. The full moon was just beginning to rise, casting a glistening silver shimmer on the water. She kept her ears carefully pricked. They had arranged to meet at this time.

  She watched the breaking waves that hissed as
they struck the white pebbled shore. The sound was soothing. The salty breeze tossed her dark hair around her face, but this wind was gentle, nothing like the winds she’d experienced before.

  She smiled. The home of Aristocles would be a happy place once again, a place where the new first consul and his adoptive niece would get covered in flour making meal cakes and find strength and purpose from each other. Important consuls would throng to the villa for banquets and discussions. Amos would finally let go of his guilt at failing Aristocles. And if the shifting tides put Phalesia onto a war footing, there would be no better man to lead.

  She cocked her head when she heard a sound.

  It was the sound of sails catching the wind, or wings snapping in a final descent. She glanced up, but the sky was empty, and she wondered if she’d heard it at all. But then she whirled and her smile broadened.

  Liana was walking toward her; they’d agreed to make this rendezvous. But she wasn’t alone. With her were two other eldren, both tall and lean, although one was old, with a crescent scar on his cheek, and the other wore a crown of laurel leaves on his head.

  ‘It is good to see you, dear one,’ Zachary said.

  ‘Zachary!’ Chloe cried.

  The first to reach her, he opened his arms and held her tight. Finally he released her, and she turned to embrace Liana. Then, despite Eiric’s protests, Chloe even pulled him into a hug. She heard Liana laugh.

  ‘Eiric,’ Chloe said. She looked around. ‘Is Dion with you?’

  Eiric shook his head. ‘He had to return to Xanthos.’ His face turned grim. ‘Palemon is alive. Dion must prepare his people for war.’

  ‘Palemon’s alive?’ Chloe’s stomach clenched at the news. But she also felt disappointment sink into her chest. Dion had other things on his mind than her.

  Glancing at Liana, Chloe knew her friend could read her easily. ‘You know that Dion needs time,’ Liana said softly.

  ‘Which brings us to our purpose here,’ Eiric said. ‘Dion said he can help us broker peace with the other nations. If we are to fight together, we will need alliances. But Dion has his own concerns with his kingdom.’ He met her eyes. ‘Chloe . . . Will you help us? Will you plead our case, and bring peace between humans and eldren, as you have done before?’