Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1)

by James Maxwell

  9

  Amos led Dion back through the agora to the embankment. The wall dropped to the left as they followed the edge until they came to the cliff, and tilting his head back, Dion saw the flat plateau, a third the size of the agora, but his view was obstructed by the rock face and he could only make out some of the temple’s columns. As they waited at the base of the steps that wound up to the summit – it would be impolite to disturb the first consul at prayer – the two men looked out at the warship.

  ‘They call it a bireme,’ Amos said. ‘Named for the two banks of oarsmen.’

  On the shore near their vessel several groups of Ileans sat around fires, plumes of smoke snaking into the sky. Their work was done for the day and the ship was no longer listing to one side.

  ‘Have any of them taken lodgings in the city?’

  ‘Not one. Kargan keeps a close eye on his men.’

  ‘Did you get much of a look at their soldiers?’

  Amos nodded. ‘A dozen or so marines. They carry triangular wooden shields, spears, bronze and steel swords. Another six archers, although I’d say our bows are better.’

  There was movement on the steps, and both Dion and Amos turned as they saw First Consul Aristocles descending alone. He was both thinner and balder than when Dion had last seen him, with white hair at the sides of his head where his scalp wasn’t bare. His brow was furrowed, and he appeared lost in thought.

  ‘The night of the tremor, the eternal flame at the temple went out,’ Amos murmured. ‘Yet the wind wasn’t strong.’

  Aristocles was panting by the time he reached them. In unison, Dion and Amos both bowed.

  ‘First Consul,’ Amos said. ‘Dion, son of King Markos of Xanthos, is here.’

  ‘First Consul,’ Dion said as he bowed. ‘I’m pleased to see Phalesia has weathered the night the ground shook and appears little harmed.’

  ‘We are harmed, Dion of Xanthos,’ Aristocles said wearily. ‘Be sure of that. How fares Xanthos?’

  ‘The city is well, as is my father the king. He doesn’t know I’m here, but if he did I’m certain he would send his regards.’

  ‘He’s unaware that you are here?’ Aristocles’ eyebrows arched. ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘I apologize, but my visit was hasty. The narrows have been blocked by a piece of cliff, fallen into the water. Until the passage is cleared there can be no trade between Xanthos and Phalesia.’

  The first consul nodded abruptly. ‘I have many things on my mind right now.’

  ‘I thought perhaps the eldren—’ Dion began.

  ‘Enough about the eldren,’ Aristocles interjected, scowling.

  Dion immediately saw that he’d timed his arrival poorly. ‘I can see you’re busy, First Consul. I apologize for arriving unannounced. Perhaps we can discuss this another time.’

  Aristocles ran a hand over his face. ‘No, it is I who should apologize, Dion of Xanthos. I will speak with you, but now I must go and discuss an important matter with one of my fellow consuls. You will rest tonight at my villa and we will discuss what brings you here.’

  Chloe was in the kitchen unpacking the day’s purchases at the market with Aglea, a stout servant with white hair tied at the back of her head. As she unwrapped a hunk of goat’s meat while Aglea added coals to the cooking hearth, Chloe’s mind was elsewhere. She was worried about her father, who was brooding in the reception with a cup of red wine. He was more careworn than usual of late, and not for the first time she wished she was a man, so she could help him with his work at the Assembly.

  She heard old Hermon speaking in low, respectful tones and then her father’s louder voice. ‘Ah, I had completely forgotten. Of course, show him in.’

  A stranger’s voice greeted her father and then Aristocles called out. ‘Chloe? Come here. We have a guest.’

  Chloe exited the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. The young man from the sailboat earlier in the day was looking at her and smiling. She had barely paid attention to him before, but she realized now that the tunic he was wearing marked him out as no common sailor.

  He had short, unruly, sandy hair and tanned skin, with an oval face and sunburned lips. His square jaw was clean-shaven and his build was lean and athletic. Intelligent brown eyes sparkled as his smile broadened.

  ‘Chloe, you remember Dion, King Markos of Xanthos’s youngest son? Dion, my daughter Chloe.’

  ‘Lady.’ Dion gave a short bow.

  ‘The last time you two met you were quite young, is that correct?’

  ‘It was six years ago,’ Dion said, still smiling. His expression was full of mischief; he was enjoying her discomfort. ‘I was fourteen.’

  ‘Which means Chloe would have been thirteen.’

  ‘I’m sure she doesn’t even recognize me,’ Dion said.

  Despite herself, Chloe reddened, then she became angry, but she fought to keep her expression calm.

  ‘She has certainly grown,’ Dion said. ‘Your daughter has become a beautiful woman, First Consul.’

  ‘I do remember you,’ Chloe said tightly. ‘You were always curious, if I recall correctly. But curiosity can cause harm, particularly when there are grave matters at hand.’

  ‘Daughter!’ Aristocles rebuked. ‘What an odd thing to say. Dion, I apologize for any offence.’

  ‘None taken,’ Dion said lightly.

  ‘Chloe, fetch wine would you? Actually no, have Aglea serve the wine. Come and sit with us. Please take a seat, Dion. We shall dine informally at the high table. I know you Xanthians don’t object to breaking bread with female company.’

  ‘I’m honored, First Consul. It’s kind of you to invite me to your home.’

  Chloe issued instructions to Aglea and then sat at the table, opposite Dion, who was looking out the window at the terrace. Aristocles sat at the head of the table and Dion at his right hand. Both men rose before sitting down at the same time as Chloe.

  ‘Now, Dion, I know you said the city is well, but how did Xanthos truly fare in the tremor?’

  ‘Many were frightened and still are, but we were fortunate. A few fallen stones . . . little more.’

  Aglea came to pour the wine. Chloe drank to disguise her discomfort, for Dion’s eyes kept turning to her before flicking back to her father. She sipped too much, and the tart liquid burned the back of her throat.

  She started to cough uncontrollably. Both her father and Dion looked alarmed.

  ‘Daughter?’ Aristocles started to rise.

  ‘No—’ Chloe held up a hand. ‘I’m fine. Aglea? Water, please.’

  Some gulps of water soothed her chest, and as her color returned Dion once more grinned at her maddeningly.

  Aristocles asked Dion about his family while Aglea served a cold meal of cheese, fruits, and olives, along with bread baked earlier in the day. Dion ate heartily but drank sparingly, praising Aristocles for the meal.

  ‘I must also express my admiration for how quickly the damage to the city is being repaired.’

  Aristocles nodded sagely. ‘Soon enough it will be as if the tremor never happened.’

  ‘The repairs to your own home are stout and strong.’

  Aristocles frowned and then he chuckled. ‘You have a keen eye. Yes, there was damage to my home. The stoutest walls are no protection from the gods.’ He turned grave. ‘My youngest, Sophia, was almost killed.’

  Dion’s eyes widened. ‘First Consul . . . I had no idea.’

  ‘You could not have known,’ Aristocles said. ‘Now—’

  ‘One of the eldren saved her,’ Chloe interjected. ‘Yet some of the consuls speak as if they are our enemies.’

  Aristocles sighed. ‘Daughter . . .’

  ‘Some are of that opinion in my father’s court,’ Dion said as he regarded her. ‘My mother always said otherwise.’

  ‘Enough of politics,’ Aristocles said shortly. ‘Now, Dion, tell me again what brings you here.’

  ‘The narrows are blocked. I thought perhaps you might be able to enlist the help of
one of the eldren. In serpent form, I believe one of them could move the obstruction.’

  Aristocles rubbed his chin. Dion hesitated, then continued.

  ‘But there is something else I wish to speak with you about, First Consul.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The warship.’

  Silence filled the room. From Aristocles’ expression it was clear that the mere mention of it had struck a nerve.

  ‘What of it?’ Aristocles asked.

  ‘A dozen more like it, arranged in a single force—’

  ‘I am well aware of the danger.’

  ‘First Consul, I don’t presume to question you in your city. I simply want your advice. What should I tell my father?’

  ‘Tell him that Phalesia survived the quake. And tell him that with the Ileans possessing ships as powerful as the one in our harbor, we may all need to look to our defenses.’

  ‘You met the captain?’

  Aristocles hesitated. ‘He made no secret of his contempt. He also expressed a great deal of interest in the sacred ark.’

  Dion rubbed his chin. ‘It is gold. A tempting prize to have on display.’

  ‘But a source of inspiration to the people,’ Chloe interjected. ‘A reminder to live a good life . . . a just life, according to a common moral code that binds us all.’

  Dion nodded. ‘It’s important to Xanthos also. I thank you, First Consul,’ he said gravely. ‘That’s all I needed to know.’

  ‘Let’s talk of something else,’ Chloe said. ‘You work too hard, Father.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dion said. ‘The narrows?’

  Aristocles looked at Chloe. She was reluctant to ask Zachary for still more help, but knowing he was always eager to maintain the peace between their races, she was sure he would agree.

  Chloe nodded. ‘We can send a swift rider to the Wilds.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dion said to Chloe, his expression sincere.

  He was looking so directly at Chloe that for some reason she felt herself break the stare and look down at the table, which had the effect of making her angry. When she glanced up and scowled at him his face turned puzzled.

  ‘Dion,’ Chloe said, eager to take the attention away from herself. ‘Tell me, can you ever see Xanthos adopting our system of consuls?’

  Aristocles’ eyes lit up as he saw an opportunity to discuss his favorite topic, but Dion neatly avoided the trap.

  ‘I am the second son,’ he said apologetically. ‘It’s something better discussed with my father or brother. However, First Consul, I am a keen student of music and even in Xanthos we’ve heard that your daughter is a skilled player of the flute.’

  Chloe scowled. ‘It’s late,’ she said shortly.

  The twinkle had now returned to Dion’s eyes. ‘That’s a shame indeed.’

  ‘Daughter, don’t be rude to our guest,’ said Aristocles.

  Accepting the inevitable, Chloe rose and fetched the copper flute from the chest in her bedchamber. Returning a moment later, she unrolled the leather covering, picked up the flute and held it expertly, running her eyes fondly over the burnished red metal.

  She placed the fingers of both hands over several holes before bringing the mouthpiece to her lips.

  Despite Dion’s entrapment, she wasn’t nervous. She had played to far more important audiences than a king’s youngest son.

  She performed a soft melody that was as old as Phalesia, a sad song with slow notes that hung in the air and required a full breath to render. As she played her eyes were half closed, and she saw Dion look at first surprised and then appraising as the melody gained complexity.

  The song traveled up and down the scale, faster now, like flowing water, but simple and soulful, a tale of tragedy that Chloe had seen make grown men cry.

  The young man from Xanthos now gazed past Chloe’s shoulder, staring out the window, in the direction of the deep blue sea.

  Chloe thought Dion looked worried.

  10

  ‘Would you call this one a leviathan?’ Dion asked Cob, surprised to hear his own voice shaking.

  ‘Yes.’ Cob was white-faced. ‘I would.’

  The serpent was longer than the warship back in Phalesia’s harbor. A muscular length of rippling flesh clad in glossy silver scales, it swam with sinuous movements, undulating and writhing. It was entirely underwater and moved swiftly past the tiny sailboat, so that soon it was little more than a black shadow seen below the surface.

  Dion felt pitifully weak and defenseless. ‘I’m glad they’re not all that size, then.’

  ‘No, that is one of the big ones. A powerful one.’

  Sharing the confined space of the narrows with the eldran, between the opposing cliffs, was a harrowing experience. When it first appeared Dion’s heart had nearly stopped. Cob had swung the tiller so hard he had almost capsized the boat. Dion had to remind himself constantly that this monster was here to help.

  The serpent’s head thrust out of the water ahead, before plunging once more into the sea, and he caught a glimpse of a long, triangular head, almost reptilian, with a spiny frill behind the jaw line. Along its back an erect silver dorsal fin followed the creature’s spine.

  Dion watched its entire length bend and loop to follow the head into the water as it dived. The spiny dorsal fin ended and still its body continued, each diamond scale the size of a man’s hand. Its girth was wider than the columns that held up the roof of the lyceum.

  ‘By Silex,’ Cob breathed. ‘I would never wish to encounter a wild one of that size.’

  From ahead, below the place where the cliff loomed over the narrows, a rumble from under the surface made the water shiver, like the ripples caused by droplets of rain. The noise was muted, but swirls and eddies told Dion there was movement.

  ‘If anything can clear the narrows, this is it,’ Dion said.

  Cob didn’t reply, but Dion heard him mutter yet another prayer to the sea god.

  Dion stood in the rocking boat, holding onto the mast as he shaded his eyes. The sun was directly overhead so that even with the cliffs so close together bright light penetrated the confines of the narrows. The sail was lowered while they waited, and wondering what was happening under the water, Dion leaned forward, trying to see what the eldran was doing.

  ‘Stop rocking the boat,’ Cob muttered.

  ‘I need to know if it is succeeding.’

  ‘I’m sure it will let us know.’

  ‘How? Do they talk when they’ve changed form?’

  The old man pondered for a moment. ‘I have no idea. I’ve never heard merfolk speak.’

  The sun passed, creating instant shadow in the narrows and making it more difficult for Dion to see. He hated not knowing what was happening, and instead of trying to see the black shape under the water he tried to read the water at the place where the opposing rock walls were closest.

  ‘Can you see the splashes about thirty feet from the left face? I think that’s where it is.’ He pointed while Cob frowned, squinting and shaking his head. ‘You can see the splashes, can’t you?’

  ‘I’m trying, lad.’

  ‘Look harder.’

  Cob narrowed his eyes and peered at the water. ‘Surely it has to come up for air? I saw no gills.’

  The time dragged out. In his mind’s eye Dion tried to see the serpent using its sheer size and strength to push away the boulder.

  He was staring so hard at the sea in the distant narrows that he almost fell overboard when there was a sudden explosion in the water next to the boat. Gray skin and scales appeared out of nowhere. The water beside the boat erupted like a volcano.

  A monstrous head shot out barely four feet away from the boat’s gunwale. It lifted itself vertically into the air as water streamed from its sides, drenching Dion instantly in the torrent. The boat rocked precariously and threatened to tip over as the eldran regarded Dion with angular glaring eyes. The thin pupils were as black as night, surrounded by amber irises flecked with golden sparks.

  Di
on and the serpent looked eye to eye.

  The frill was flattened against its neck, adding to the impression of a wedge-shaped head, all sharp and spiny, with two holes for nostrils and a mouth of curved white teeth. The eyes were surprisingly warm and filled with intelligence. Dion knew without a doubt that this creature was aware, in a way no beast or fish was.

  There was a crescent scar on the serpent’s left cheek and the occasional silver scale was mottled, as if it were old. When he thought that this creature, or another of its kind, had saved Chloe’s sister’s life, and that Chloe considered the eldren friends, Dion gained new respect for the first consul’s daughter.

  The leviathan regarded him and bowed its head slowly.

  ‘What . . . What is it doing?’ Dion asked Cob.

  ‘I think he’s telling us that he’s done it.’

  ‘How do you know it’s a he?’

  Cob shrugged. ‘He looks like a he.’

  Still standing and gripping the mast with a white-knuckled hand, Dion bowed to the eldran. ‘Thank you!’ he called.

  The jaws parted and the serpent nodded again. The huge reptilian head slowly sank beneath the water.

  And when Dion and Cob raised the sail and once more approached the narrows, the blockage was gone.

  Dion and Cob sailed into Xanthos as the last vestiges of sunlight vanished from the day and flaming torches flickered on the beach to guide wayward fishermen home.

  Dion was pensive; the two men had spoken little on their homeward leg. He always felt a little frustrated when he compared his home to Phalesia and saw only fishing boats pulled up on the shore and a grassy bank rather than an impressive bastion. Outside the city there were mines and farms, and inside the walls was a training ground and barracks larger than Phalesia’s agora. The Royal Palace at Xanthos was far grander than any of the villas of the consuls and merchants. But any successful craftsman, merchant, or shipwright that Xanthos produced inevitably made the journey to Phalesia and never returned.

  However, this time there was more to Dion’s brooding. He was worried about the Ilean warship and what its arrival portended. What were Ilean vessels doing in Galean waters in the first place? The Galean continent was a long way from Salesia . . . It was supposed to take five days or more of hazardous sailing to cross the Maltherean Sea.