Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1)

by James Maxwell

  She allowed rage to feed her and clamp down on the fear. She wondered which of the palace guards had cut off Princess Yasmina’s ears and nose. How many had worked together to behead the girl? Who had held the whip as Tomarys was flayed? Which of them had followed Solon’s orders to impale the big man, piercing a sharp wooden stake through his guts? She wondered if it even mattered – all of them would follow Solon’s orders if he asked them to do the same thing to her.

  Chloe imagined she was once more practicing with Tomarys in the arena. She felt his arms around her as he made his demonstrations. She remembered her own practice. She knew she couldn’t hesitate; she had to get the move right, and get it right first time.

  ‘Thank you, Tomarys,’ she whispered.

  ‘What did you say?’ the guard snarled.

  When she moved, Chloe put every bit of strength she possessed into the spin. She sent breath whistling out of her chest in one swift gust, grunting and making a savage cry she had never heard come out of her own lips.

  Chloe turned in the direction of her free arm. Caught by surprise, the guard suddenly found himself releasing her, unable to fight the force of her whole body. Like an uncoiling spring she whirled, making a point with her elbow and bringing it higher than her head as she moved.

  The roar was still in her lips as her elbow crashed into the soldier’s face. She felt nothing but triumph as she made contact. Something broke in his face. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. The soldier cried out in agony and put his hands to his nose as his head tilted back so that he was staring at the ceiling. Her body completed the turn, and Chloe now used the elbow once more. She didn’t hesitate; she jabbed it into the soldier’s exposed throat, as hard as she could.

  He crumpled, and she doubted he would move again.

  ‘Nothing is more powerful than the warrior who will achieve his objective or die trying.’

  Her second guard’s eyes were wide open with shock. Rather than turn to run, and have him grapple her from behind, Chloe charged. She went for his hand as he reached for his sword; at the same time she smashed the top of her head into his nose.

  Tomarys had always said this was a useful move, given her shorter height. He’d said it was exceptionally painful, but that she couldn’t allow herself to feel sympathy; she must be like stone. Chloe brought her head up and pushed with her legs, feeling the guard’s nose crunch like gravel beneath a boot heel. When he cried out she made a knife-edge with her hand and struck his wrist at the joint.

  His hand came away from the sword.

  It was now her sword.

  She drew it in a single movement and ran the guard through, immediately withdrawing the blade as blood poured out. The soldier moaned and fell down.

  Chloe didn’t wait to scan the room or give the other soldiers time to attack. She had thought this plan through and taken her bearings. She knew that there were no more guards between her and the exterior courtyard.

  Still carrying the sword, wondering at the heavy blade that for some reason felt as light as a feather, she started to sprint.

  A ragged voice called after her – Solon was still in the throes of his coughing fit. ‘Stop her!’

  Cries followed her as she left the throne room and traveled along corridors she knew well. She passed a steward who dashed to the side with a cry at the young woman with the blood-drenched sword rushing past.

  Running through the palace’s main portal and reaching the courtyard, she crossed the area of paths and gardens in seconds.

  On the far side, three soldiers guarded the wide gate. Two stood out in the street, shielding their eyes from the late afternoon glare as they looked down at the harbor. The third saw Chloe coming. His mouth opened as he started to speak.

  Her sword point found his throat. He clutched his hands around his neck and fell to his knees.

  Chloe speared the next guard in the back, directly between his shoulder blades. The last one turned and raised his sword to block. Weaving to the side, she kept her sword point up and then when he moved to intercept, she did something he wasn’t expecting.

  Chloe knew more about fighting without a sword than with one. Giving up a weapon would be unthinkable to a swordsman. But she wasn’t like them.

  She threw the sword like a knife. It made for a clumsy throw, but he was forced to prevent sharp steel striking his body by moving himself. With his attention distracted she shifted around him and then with his back to her she brought her clenched fist into his kidney.

  He grunted with pain. When he turned to face her, she brought her knee up between his legs. He dropped like a felled tree, tilting to one side and tumbling to the ground. She bent to pick up the sword she’d thrown, then hacked at his neck.

  She now had to find fresh clothing and the sword would only get in the way. Tossing the weapon, just a girl, weak and defenseless, she ran away from the palace.

  Chloe was free.

  45

  Dion rushed up the stairs to his room high in the House of Algar. He was covered in soot and his throat was burning from exposure to the dense black smoke. A different kind of fire burned within him. He had destroyed many of the sun king’s warships, but the eldran had put out the fires, saving many more. He had to quickly get his bow and quiver and flee.

  He was out of breath by the time he reached his room. He pulled aside the entrance curtain and stopped in his tracks.

  Chloe, daughter of Aristocles, sat on his bed.

  Her long blue-black hair framed a triangular face that was pale as death. The brown eyes above her arched, upturned nose, were filled with fear. She was covered in blood. Anoush sat beside her. Dion saw that she was clutching his arms in a white-knuckled grip as he whimpered.

  ‘Let him go,’ Dion growled.

  Chloe nodded and released the boy. He leaped up and ran to hide behind Dion.

  ‘I got your message,’ she said as she slumped.

  Dion towered over her. ‘I risked my life for you. We could both now be on our way home. Instead you stood by as your guard beat me nearly to death.’

  ‘He’s dead now,’ Chloe said morosely, looking up at him. ‘He was a friend.’

  Through the open window Dion could hear cries in the street. He didn’t know if there was a connection to the harbor fire or to Chloe’s escape, but he knew they were both in terrible danger.

  ‘I’m grateful to you, I really am. Can explanations wait?’ she asked.

  Dion scowled. ‘We need to go. Anoush – can you get some women’s clothing?’

  Anoush nodded and ran out of the chamber while Dion went to the basin and began to wash his face and hands. When he finished he glanced at Chloe. ‘I suggest you do the same.’

  By the time Chloe had finished cleaning off the blood Anoush had returned, carrying a yellow chiton and veil.

  ‘Good lad,’ Dion said. He crouched to look into the boy’s eyes. ‘Do you know how we can get out of here, without going into the street?’

  Anoush nodded. ‘The roof.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dion said. ‘Will you be safe?’

  ‘You have given me plenty of silver, master. It has been an adventure.’ He grinned, creases forming on his round cheeks. ‘If you ever come back to Lamara, I’ll be here to be your guide.’

  Dion gave him a rough embrace, surprising the boy. ‘Now show me the roof.’

  Chloe changed her clothing while Dion inspected their exit route, and a moment later they were slipping out of a window, Dion exiting first and then helping Chloe onto a flat roof. He scanned the area and saw the buildings were close enough to jump from one roof to another.

  ‘Goodbye, Anoush!’ Dion called.

  The boy gave him a quick wave and then Dion led Chloe to the edge of the rail. He saw that the next roof was three feet lower and with an effort he clambered down. Chloe slipped off and then the pair ran to the next.

  They passed from roof to roof until there was a gap in front of them; they had come as far as they could. Looking for a path down, Dion saw
a doorway leading to the building’s interior and pointed. ‘This way.’

  A surprised old woman carrying a basket in her arms cried out as they entered a wealthy house with carpeted floors. Ignoring her, Dion and Chloe descended the stairs and ran out onto the street.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Chloe asked. She was breathless, but had no problem keeping up. He couldn’t see her face through the veil, but he was surprised at her fortitude.

  ‘I have a boat just outside the city,’ Dion said. He took a moment to get his bearings and then pointed to the left. ‘This way.’

  They walked rather than running, striding with skipping steps as they both fought to move quickly without drawing attention. Each set of stairs they descended brought them closer to the lower city and the gates. Each narrow alley kept them hidden from watchers. Each broad avenue made them feel exposed.

  Then the gates were just ahead. Compared with the harbor on the other side of the city, the area here was a scene of normality as wagons carried bushels of wheat into the city and herders brought tethered goats in for the slaughter.

  ‘As soon as we’re through,’ Dion said. ‘Run.’

  He kept her close as they passed between the gates. Soldiers glanced down at them from high perches on the towers at both sides.

  Suddenly they were through.

  ‘Run!’

  Dion and Chloe moved from a walk into a sprint. He checked over his shoulder to see if she was keeping up and led her away from the road, skirting the walls and towers, keeping a hundred paces between them and the city until they finally left Lamara behind.

  ‘Keep . . . running . . .’ Dion panted.

  The terrain here was treacherous and rocky. They weaved around spiky shrubs and leaped over clefts in the rock. Chloe fell and grazed her palms but she climbed back to her feet without complaint and continued to follow, her jaw clenched as she ran.

  Dion was confused for a moment, but then he found the steep-walled stream and breathed a sigh of relief. He took Chloe along the high ground until they reached the place where the stream joined the river.

  ‘We’re going to have to get down to the bottom. Be careful,’ he said.

  He slid down on the seat of his trousers, calloused palms breaking his fall. When he reached the base of the gully he turned back and saw Chloe climbing down much more gracefully than he had, facing the opposite direction.

  Dion stood with his feet in shallow water and pulled at the bushes, and there was the Calypso.

  As he freed the vessel, he realized he had forgotten how beautiful it was. Sleek and rakish, with horizontal blue and gold stripes on the hull, it begged to be out and riding the open seas.

  Dion began to breathe freely for the first time as he brought the boat bobbing to the shore of the river.

  ‘I could use your help mounting the mast,’ he said to Chloe.

  ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘Firstly, get in.’

  She waded through the river and clambered awkwardly into the boat as Dion held it fast. Together they mounted the mast and then raised the sail to halfway so that it snapped and billowed in the steady breeze.

  Glancing up at the sky, Dion saw that it was late evening and would soon be night. He nodded to himself. He had sailed through the night to reach Lamara, and he could do it again on the return journey. The lighthouses would guide him out of the inlet and into the open sea.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked Chloe.

  ‘I’ve never been readier.’

  ‘Sit up front.’ Dion pushed the boat and hopped in. He raised the sail all the way and heard it crack like a whip as it pocketed the wind. The rakish boat heeled over, and Chloe looked at Dion with alarm.

  ‘It’s normal,’ he said.

  He rubbed his hand over the polished grain of the interior. The Calypso skimmed over the little waves, sending a surge of joy into his breast as he headed for the channel and saw the stone statue of the sun god ahead.

  Dion glanced back at the city. Plumes of smoke rose in trickling curves from the direction of the harbor. He could no longer see the pyramid, and finally even the rust-colored walls and hexagonal towers were gone from sight.

  The first stars came into the sky overhead as Dion and Chloe left Lamara behind.

  46

  A rising sun glittered from the distant pyramid, sparkling at the edges and traveling like golden flame toward the summit. The glimmer, however, stopped just short of the triangular peak. Standing at the harbor with sand beneath his sandals and the tang of wood smoke in the air, the sight of the unfinished pyramid filled Solon with anger rather than joy.

  He tore his gaze away from his incomplete tomb and instead scanned the scene in front of him. There were places where only black ash marked where proud biremes had once lurked, ready to be launched at his command. At other points along the line warship after warship was completely unharmed.

  Standing with him were Triton, once more a striking one-eyed eldran with the ridges of his skull uncovered by hair, and Kargan. The barrel-chested overlord of the empire’s fleet was incensed, despite the fact that Triton’s intervention had saved a great number of his vessels.

  Solon felt his own rage echo the visible fury on Kargan’s face, but he was the king of kings, and so he kept his expression impassive. Only the narrowing of his eyes would betray his emotions.

  ‘Only twenty ships are still able to make the voyage without extensive repairs,’ Kargan said.

  Solon coughed and touched a white cloth, already smeared with red, to his lips. He nodded for Kargan to continue.

  ‘However the number of marines and oarsmen we must carry means we won’t have enough men for the land force. We can’t simply carry more men – we’d be too heavy in the water for effective naval power.’

  Triton turned his one eye on Solon. ‘Let me worry about the enemy ships. Fill your vessels with soldiers. I will clear the sea.’

  ‘And all you want is what is inside the ark?’ Solon asked.

  ‘That is all I want.’

  Kargan frowned. ‘What is it that you want so badly?’

  ‘To you, a trifle – but to me something of great value. It is the symbol of my kingship. Without it, only some of my race will accept my rule.’

  An officer approached. ‘King of kings,’ he said, keeping his gaze lowered. ‘We have made inquiries.’

  ‘And what have you discovered?’

  ‘We believe that one of the men, a foreigner, started the fires. He fought by our side but now can’t be found.’

  Solon scowled. ‘A foreigner? From where?’

  ‘A Galean. From across the sea. It seems clear that he’s from Xanthos.’

  Kargan scratched his beard as he looked at Solon. ‘He will be off to warn his people. The secret route through the Shards won’t give us an advantage if they know we’re coming.’

  ‘Triton?’

  The eldran king nodded. ‘I’ll leave to summon my forces. It will take time, but if you depart now we will join you on the way. We can scour the Maltherean Sea for your spy.’

  ‘Wait—’ Kargan held up a hand. ‘Sire. This plan—’

  ‘Kargan,’ Solon interjected. ‘Your orders are clear. Fill your ships full of soldiers. Make comfortable arrangements for me on the Nexotardis, for I will be joining you.’

  ‘Are you sure that is—?’

  ‘You will do your duty.’ Solon turned the full force of his glare on his commander. ‘And I will be with you to see it done. We leave immediately. Triton, go to your people. If the spy gives warning our plan may fail. Speed is our ally. Kargan, summon your men. Prepare to depart. I will soon return to this very shore with the ark of gold in my possession.’

  47

  The towering waves of the open sea rolled forward, sending the lean sailing boat up each crest before it plummeted down the far side. The relentless motion rocked the vessel from side to side and up and down, giving the impression that she would fall over at any instant. But Dion knew that the Calypso
could hold her own. The only thing he didn’t know was if he would have the fortitude to keep going for hour after hour.

  Chloe sat on the timber bench in front, clutching onto the underside of the seat for support. Her face was grim and her skin was yellow. She had slept the previous night, but Dion had been given no choice but to keep going. The lids of his eyes felt like heavy weights were dragging them down.

  ‘Chloe,’ Dion called. ‘I need your help.’

  She nodded and slid on the seat until she was sitting close by, across from Dion at the stern with their knees touching. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘I need to rest, if only for an hour. Have you ever steered a boat?’

  ‘No.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s easier than it looks. The wind is coming across our beam and we’re heading due north, so we won’t need to tack for a long time. I want you to take hold of the tiller.’

  She looked at him white-faced. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he soothed. ‘I’m going to pass it to you, but I want you to keep it at the same angle it’s at now. Can you do that?’

  Chloe swallowed, but she nodded.

  ‘Here goes.’ The two of them were facing each other across the small gap between the two benches at either side of the boat. The tiller was at Dion’s right and Chloe’s left. Dion took her left hand with his and guided it to the polished wood of the handle. He released and she wrapped her hand around the timber. He then folded her hand in his.

  ‘I’ll guide you like this for a time,’ he said. Her hand felt small and smooth inside his calloused palm. ‘Keeping us on course won’t be difficult, but the important thing is to keep us heading into the waves like we’re climbing a mountain by the shortest path. Understand? Good.’ He kept her hand moving, steering the vessel up the next wave. She gulped as they rode the far side. They climbed the next. ‘I won’t make you do it on your own until you feel ready.’

  They continued for a time, and Dion realized it was the first close human contact he’d had since he’d said goodbye to his family at the harbor of Xanthos. He glanced at Chloe, realizing that she was looking at him also. She was pretty, he decided, and stronger than he’d thought, although he found her upturned nose irritating for some reason.