Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2)

by James Maxwell

  Chloe had descended from the Temple of Aldus after the death of Solon, ruler of the Ilean Empire. She had stumbled down, almost falling more than once, wide-eyed and shaking.

  She fought to control her breathing. She was facing her fears by returning. The visions of blood and death were in the past.

  The wind gusted as first Aristocles and then Chloe ascended the final step, and now they were on the small plateau that was home to the temple. Suddenly the memories were driven home with force.

  She saw the circle of wide marble columns, framing the paved center, each holding up nothing but the sky. Earth-shattering force had smashed one of the columns into two pieces; the top half lay thirty paces from its base. She again saw the two dragons fighting, rolling and biting, wings snapping like sails in the wind, skittering across the ground and cleaving the column as they struck. One of the dragons was powerful and silver-scaled, one-eyed, and vicious. Its opponent was black as night and fought with equal savagery to defend Chloe from certain death as she tried to prevent Solon from opening the ark. The black dragon was Dion.

  Aristocles turned when he noticed that Chloe had stopped in her tracks. ‘Daughter? Are you well?’ His high forehead, framed by wisps of white hair at his temples, creased with concern. He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you here.’

  Chloe drew in a deep breath. ‘I am fine, Father,’ she said, walking forward to join him. ‘I was just . . . remembering.’

  In the center of the plateau was the eternal flame, a captive fire on a stepped pedestal, bright and fierce even in the daylight. Half a dozen paces in front of the flame’s pedestal stood the ark itself, a chest of solid gold the size of a large table. Ornate and artfully decorated, it had a flat lid that was small compared to the chest. Strange, sharply angled symbols were arranged along the front, underneath lines of cursive text in a language no one could read.

  But it wasn’t the ark that drew Chloe’s attention. It was the splotch of red blood nearby. She had plunged her sword into Solon’s body and ended his life, as well as Triton the eldran king’s chance of seizing the horn of Marrix. Zachary said that the horn would enable Triton to control the wildren, and that the one-eyed eldran had only one aim: to destroy all of humanity.

  ‘Daughter?’ Aristocles said again.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Chloe repeated, tearing her eyes away from the crimson stain.

  As her gaze lifted she saw that between each pair of the perimeter columns stood a Phalesian soldier in leather breastplate, skirt of leather strips, and short blue cloak. Every soldier faced outward and had a bow in his hand and quiver of arrows on his shoulder. The circle of guards scanned the sky and scoured the sea.

  ‘Then come,’ her father murmured. He planted a smile on his face and walked toward the temple’s center, and the man waiting for them near the ark.

  Nikolas, king of Xanthos, looked strange out of armor. His warrior physique filled his white tunic, leaving one muscled shoulder bare, making the garment appear too small for his body. Though his skin was like leather, Chloe could still see white scars on his arms and hands, and if his face hadn’t been covered by a thick black beard she was sure she would have seen scars there too. He was tall, but his thick torso made him anything but rangy, and curly hair coated the visible skin of his chest like an animal’s pelt. His eyes were dark and haunted: before Nikolas had seized victory at the Battle of Phalesia, the Ileans had taken everything: his beautiful wife, strong young son, and beloved father.

  He did, however, have another close family member still living. And despite all he’d lost, it had been his choice to exile his only brother, Dion.

  Glancing at her father, Chloe contrasted him with the king of Xanthos. Aristocles had a bald crown with thinning white hair at the sides of his scalp and a skinny frame. Nikolas stood proudly, impatiently, while the first consul of Phalesia was anxious and friendly, both at the same time.

  The balance of power between the two neighboring city-states had changed. Phalesia had lost her entire navy. Most of the dead at the battle had been soldiers in cloaks of blue. Nikolas had saved the city, but by arriving late he’d ensured that the blood of Phalesia’s young men had been spilled in volume. He’d come in time, but he had also come too late for Phalesia’s strength to survive intact.

  Chloe tried to bury her resentment. It had happened swiftly, while she was still stunned with the knowledge that she’d just killed Solon, and was struggling with Dion’s true nature, but she was now betrothed. The king of Xanthos and her father had already announced the engagement to their peoples. Chloe’s dark hair was piled high on her head and fastened with several pins, the style of a maiden who had been claimed by a man. Nikolas was going to be her husband.

  Long ago, when Chloe’s mother was alive, she’d smiled and told Chloe that she’d always known she and Aristocles would be married. If Chloe was lucky, she’d said, she would have a husband as kind, a man who would also be a gentle and generous father to her children.

  The fates had been cruel. Chloe had prayed to the gods to release her, but she was trapped.

  The Oracle at Athos had prophesied the exact year of Solon’s death. The Seer gave Chloe three prophecies of her own, two of which had already come true. The final prophecy was that Chloe would marry a man she didn’t love.

  The Seer’s predictions always came true.

  Rather than greet her or the first consul, Nikolas frowned at Chloe and then directed his words to her father. ‘I asked that you come alone, First Consul.’

  ‘I am an old man,’ Aristocles said with a disarming smile. ‘My daughter was assisting me up the stairs.’

  It was untrue; he hadn’t needed any help. Chloe had wanted to be here, and it was rare that her father refused her.

  Nikolas addressed her directly, dark eyes narrowed. ‘Go home, Chloe.’

  Chloe opened her mouth but bit down on a retort. She instead clutched the copper medallion she wore around her neck and slowly inhaled, praying for Aeris to give her serenity. Aristocles and Nikolas also had medallions hanging from chains around their necks, but in Chloe’s father’s case the symbol in the circle of gold depicted the scales of Aldus, god of justice, whereas Nikolas had the bull of Balal, god of war, hanging from a circle of iron links.

  Aristocles lifted his chin. ‘I’m certain that it is custom in Xanthos, as well as Phalesia, that the father is the custodian of the bride until the wedding day. Until then, Chloe is under my protection, and I would like her to stay.’

  ‘If that is your wish, then so be it,’ Nikolas said stiffly.

  It was clear that he wasn’t a man who liked to be thwarted. But turning his attention to the task at hand, Nikolas now faced the golden ark. Chloe and her father did the same, and they gazed at it as they spoke.

  ‘We are here to discuss the Ark of Revelation,’ Nikolas said. He snorted. ‘I’m sure you’ve both noticed that the priests have stopped calling it that. They now say that the true location of the tablets on which Aldus inscribed the laws of man is unknown.’

  ‘It’s irrelevant whether they exist at all,’ Aristocles said. ‘They were never intended for us to look upon. The ten laws of man were always for us to discover for ourselves.’

  ‘That is a matter for the magi,’ said Nikolas with a shrug. ‘But your words give me hope, for it seems we are in agreement. This chest is not sacred. It is merely a container, made of pure metal, intended to confine the power of the horn of Marrix. Eldren cannot willingly touch pure metal, which is why Triton enlisted the sun king’s help to retrieve the horn.’ He glanced at the first consul. ‘The question now becomes, what do we do with the ark?’

  Aristocles frowned. ‘I would have thought it to be: what do we do with the horn of Marrix?’

  ‘Easily solved.’ Nikolas waved a hand. ‘Any container of pure metal will serve the same function, whether gold, silver, copper, or iron.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ Chloe asked.

  Nikolas’s lips thinned, but he answered her
question. ‘I consult with my magi, just as your father does.’

  ‘The ark is Phalesian,’ Aristocles said. ‘What we do with it is our decision—’

  ‘Is it truly?’ Nikolas asked. ‘We thought it came from the gods, but now we know otherwise.’ He pointed. ‘Is that writing Phalesian script? Are those symbols made by Phalesian hands? Do you know when it was made and by whom?’ He cut the air with his hand. ‘The Aleutheans, led by King Palemon, stole the horn of Marrix, that is what the legends say. We now know that they built this chest and placed the horn inside. How it ended up here is anyone’s guess—’

  ‘It is Phalesian,’ Aristocles said through gritted teeth. ‘You and I can decide together what we do with the horn, but as for—’

  ‘If we’re going to stand against Ilea,’ Nikolas said. ‘We need gold.’

  ‘The fates put the ark here, where we have protected it and cared for it,’ Aristocles said. ‘It certainly isn’t Xanthian.’

  ‘Then why haven’t you done anything with it, besides place a few of your poorly trained soldiers as guards?’ Nikolas demanded. ‘You say the ark is yours to deal with, so do so! The secret is out. Triton knows where the horn is. Meanwhile your fleet is destroyed and you have a relic of pure gold here that will draw enemies like moths to a flame.’

  Despite Nikolas’s manner, Chloe had to admit the truth of what he was saying. The Ileans had been humiliated at the Battle of Phalesia: they would return. Triton knew exactly where the horn was, and was desperate to claim the kingship of all eldren, with only Zachary and the eldren in the Wilds standing in his way.

  Aristocles was silent for a time. Usually diplomatic, he’d uncharacteristically allowed his wounded pride to show. ‘So how would you have it?’

  ‘The warships we captured are being repaired, but the work is costly, and building more takes time. I suggest you move the horn to an iron box and then melt down the ark. Aristocles, I will grant you that the gold is yours. But you must use it to rebuild your strength.’

  Aristocles drew in a slow breath before he reluctantly nodded. ‘I will consult with the Assembly of Consuls.’ Chloe realized how hard this must be for him: he was a deeply religious man, and had prayed to the ark fervently over the years.

  ‘No.’ Nikolas shook his head. ‘I need a promise.’

  ‘Wait,’ Chloe said. Both men looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was present. ‘There’s something we’re forgetting. Why is the horn kept in a chest of gold, rather than another metal? Perhaps there’s a good reason. We aren’t certain that there won’t be consequences for moving it.’

  Nikolas’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘I have an idea,’ she continued. ‘We consult with Zachary and find out if the horn will be safe in an iron container. Then, Father, if Zachary says it’s safe, perhaps there’ll be no need to convene the Assembly. King Nikolas is rightly concerned. It’s only fair that we do our part, and if the ark can help us rebuild, we can thank the gods for the gift of the gold.’

  Aristocles pondered. ‘I can agree to that,’ he said finally, looking at Nikolas and waiting for his reaction.

  ‘Agreed,’ Nikolas said. He scanned the perimeter of the temple. ‘In the meantime, I will order an equal number of my king’s guard to stand here with your men.’ Aristocles opened his mouth, and Chloe knew he was going to protest about Xanthian soldiers on Phalesian soil, but Nikolas forestalled him, speaking firmly. ‘I hope you appreciate this gesture of cooperation.’

  Chloe’s father closed his mouth, and then nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Now,’ Nikolas said. ‘One last thing. I want to look at the horn.’

  ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Aristocles asked.

  Nikolas barked a laugh and indicated the empty sky. Aristocles scowled and beckoned one of the nearby soldiers to come forward. Meanwhile Nikolas slowly approached the ark. He crouched in front of it and spoke to the Phalesian soldier.

  ‘Lift the lid carefully. Close it again on my command.’

  Chloe stayed with her father, but she suddenly longed to know what Nikolas would see. The soldier grunted as he heaved at the handle of the golden lid. Rainbow light welled from underneath, bathing Nikolas’s broad face in rippling colors as he gazed inside.

  For hour after hour, King Palemon stood at the galleon’s stern, wind whipping his hair, hands on the rail as he looked back at the departing shore. It was high summer; there was no better time to depart, and though the occasional ice floe drifted past, the sea was mostly clear. He watched the white landmass of his birth as it grew distant, until the crowd of forlorn watchers left behind became little specks, and then couldn’t be seen at all.

  The Solaris could accommodate just a small proportion of the city of the dead’s population, which meant that he’d taken only the strongest with him: the fiercest of the male warriors and the most powerful of the magi. He vowed to himself that he would find the warm lands he’d heard stories about his whole life and claim a new dominion for his people. He would return with a fleet large enough to accommodate them all. He would come back for them before starvation and cold claimed their lives.

  ‘Sire!’ He heard a female voice cry.

  Palemon turned and saw Zara standing nearby, sun staff in hand. Despite the chill air she still wore nothing but her long-sleeved dress. Her curved lips were blue, but magic warmed her blood.

  The golden hoop glowed as the pull of the ark guided them. She cried out and a spear of yellow flame darted through the hoop, the longest and brightest flame Palemon had yet seen. With wide eyes he went to stand beside her, mesmerized by the dance of the flame that led the way.

  Her startlingly blue eyes met his. ‘It is the ark,’ she said. ‘I am certain of it. Right now. At this very instant. It is drawing on the gold to contain the horn’s power.’

  ‘Close it!’ Aristocles said. Chloe could see that the soldier was struggling to hold the golden lid high as Nikolas peered in. ‘We don’t understand it!’

  Nikolas was blocking her view of the ark’s interior, but when the soldier lowered the lid and she heard the heavy clunk she knew she had missed her opportunity.

  ‘Thank you,’ Aristocles said to the Phalesian soldier. ‘You may return to your duties.’

  The soldier bowed and departed. Nikolas took a deep breath and then returned to the first consul and Chloe.

  ‘It’s a conch shell,’ Nikolas said. Even he appeared awed by what he’d seen. ‘Like the stories say. It’s . . . I find it hard to describe. It is powerful. I don’t need to be a magus to know.’

  ‘I do take the danger seriously, King Nikolas. I assure you. As my daughter has suggested, we will discuss this with Zachary, and if he gives his blessing we’ll move the horn somewhere safe. Perhaps we can also speak with Queen Zanthe of Tanus about sending a combined force into the Waste. The eldren there were always too far away to be a threat, but now . . .’

  Nikolas nodded. ‘I was going to wait, but being here, seeing the horn with my own eyes . . . The Ileans will be back. Triton will do what he can to seize the horn.’ He gazed directly into Aristocles’ eyes. ‘First Consul, I intend to reform the Galean League.’

  ‘The Galean League?’ Chloe asked with a frown. ‘Wasn’t that a response to the barbarian invasion a hundred years ago?’

  ‘The horde was unstoppable,’ Nikolas said. ‘Yet with Tanus, Phalesia, Xanthos, and Sarsica working together, we held them off.’

  ‘Before the league fell apart in a decade-long war,’ Aristocles said.

  Nikolas reddened. ‘I can see that this isn’t the time. We’ll discuss the league another day. As I said, I will accept that the gold is yours, if you use it to promptly rebuild your strength and contribute fairly to the new fleet that defends us both.’

  ‘Provided the horn will be safe contained by iron,’ Chloe said.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Nikolas said impatiently.

  Aristocles spoke. ‘And the fleet will be under our joint command, rather than that woman from across the sea—’
/>
  ‘Roxana knows her business.’

  ‘She is a foreigner.’

  ‘She serves me well.’

  ‘That is the problem,’ Aristocles said. ‘She serves only you.’

  ‘Enough!’ Chloe glared at them both. ‘We’ve agreed to go to the Wilds to speak with Zachary. Other decisions can wait. I’ll depart—’

  ‘Wait.’ Nikolas’s eyes narrowed. ‘You? I never agreed to you going. No.’ He shook his head. ‘I forbid you to go.’

  ‘King Nikolas, it does make sense,’ Aristocles said. ‘Chloe knows Zachary—’

  ‘I don’t care who it is,’ Nikolas said. ‘But,’ he scowled at Chloe, ‘it won’t be her.’

  The king of Xanthos stormed away.

  Chloe and Aristocles exchanged glances and she could see the unspoken regret in her father’s eyes. In the aftermath of the battle for Phalesia, he’d thought to bind the two neighboring nations closer together. But that had been before he’d realized the terrible impact that the murder of his family had made on Nikolas.

  ‘It’s fine, father,’ Chloe said. She reached out and squeezed his hand.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said softly.

  It was only a few hours later that Chloe left the Phalesian agora and followed the stepped marble paths down to the lower city. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the soldier of Nikolas’s king’s guard – noticeable by his bronze breastplate and the helm that hid his face with cheek and nose guards – was still following her.

  She scowled. Nikolas would simply tell her father that his men were keeping his future wife safe. There was nothing she could do to complain.

  Traveling the broad avenue, she was careful to walk in the middle of the street, away from the sickening stench of the refuse that filled the gutters on both sides. She passed city folk of all descriptions: dusty laborers in smocks, colorfully dressed women with young children in tow, farmers leading burdened donkeys by the reins, and market vendors calling out from wooden stalls. Turning into an alley, she lifted the hem of her chiton so it didn’t drag until she reached a wider street. Another turn took her between two rows of mud-brick houses, and then she stopped in the middle of yet another avenue.