Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2)

by James Maxwell

  ‘And Vorn here just called my ancestor, the first Palemon, who led us to victory against the eldren, a liar. For that I could never forgive him.’ He threw the head over the side of the ship and then turned back to the mutineers. ‘All of our warriors carry steel weapons made in Aleuthea. There is no iron in Necropolis; we have no forges. Tell me’—he directed his gaze at Longbeard—‘if not our ancient homeland, then where were your swords, axes, and hammers made? Who built this ship? Who wrote in the ship’s log and left us the tale of the fall of Aleuthea, imploring us one day to return? Who among you hasn’t heard me vow to return to Necropolis for our people, and to give them a future that leads to something more than certain death?’

  Those arrayed behind Longbeard nodded. The men in the rigging met their king’s determined glare with steady expressions of their own.

  ‘We continue!’ Palemon called. ‘Our people are depending on us. We will search, and we will find the warm lands. I never want to hear about turning back again.’

  The group of warriors swapped expressions as they backed away.

  ‘Not you,’ Palemon said, pointing his dagger at Longbeard.

  The grizzled old warrior paled, but he clasped his palms and faced his king. He drew in a long, shaking breath, and finally nodded. ‘Please, sire,’ he said. ‘Make it quick.’

  Palemon glanced at Zara. ‘There is one you insulted more than I.’

  ‘No.’ Longbeard shook his head. ‘No!’ His pleading became a growl. ‘Not the witch.’

  Palemon drew back as Zara advanced and lifted her staff. Longbeard grabbed his axe from the loop at his waist, shifting to fighting stance as he raised the weapon. Zara smiled as the golden hoop flared up, so bright for an instant that Palemon could see only white. He blinked and his vision slowly returned.

  Longbeard roared. He put a hand to his eyes while he swiped the air with his axe. ‘I can’t see!’

  Zara took her time, easily evading his stumbling blows, stepping around him as he staggered. The sorceress then lifted her staff high, revealing the spike at its base. With a grunt she plunged the point into the old warrior’s foot. He screamed and fell down, his axe skittering across the deck. She then stepped forward until she was directly above him as he quailed on hands and knees. She hovered the sharpened point of the staff between his shoulder blades.

  With a grunt, she brought it down. Palemon hid a wince.

  Longbeard twitched, limbs scrabbling at the deck, until he finally went still.

  ‘Throw the bodies to the sharks,’ Palemon said.

  Palemon found Kyphos the hunchback riding the bowsprit, at the very front of the ship, staring into the waves with grim determination. The motion of the sea here was stronger than anywhere else, a sickening up and down that made the stomach lift up to the throat before dropping down through the guts. The muscles in Kyphos’s outsized arms were bunched tightly as he gripped the rail at both sides.

  ‘I noticed you stayed clear,’ Palemon said.

  Kyphos shrugged, thick black eyebrows coming down over his eyes as he regarded his king. ‘You didn’t want help. They needed to see a strong king. You showed it to them.’

  ‘Soon we won’t be able to turn back regardless,’ Palemon said.

  ‘So that’s the plan, then?’ Kyphos grunted. ‘We keep searching until the end?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘And Zara doesn’t know why the ark no longer shows the way?’

  ‘She concludes it has been destroyed.’

  ‘Destroyed?’ Kyphos lifted an eyebrow. ‘Something is afoot in the Realm.’

  Palemon nodded. ‘First the ark’s power is drawn on. Then it flares up again. Then it disappears altogether.’

  ‘At any rate, it means nothing if we don’t find the warm lands.’

  ‘Given time, we’ll find them. We must have faith. For now, my friend, keep an eye and an ear out,’ Palemon said. ‘If you identify any troublemakers, you have my permission to take care of them.’

  ‘Visibly?’

  ‘We need to keep an iron grip on our men. Skin the next man who complains, even if it’s about seasickness.’

  Kyphos’s lips thinned but he nodded. ‘I’ll see it done.’

  17

  After days of searching, Dion and Eiric finally found Aella. She’d died in the form of a dragon. The moment she’d turned wild, her usual form was gone forever.

  Dion laid a hand on Eiric’s shoulder. ‘There are the scales of another dragon,’ he said softly. ‘Zachary?’

  Eiric nodded but didn’t turn around. He stood on the edge of the forest clearing, facing the rustling trees, keeping his face hidden. Dion had lost his parents and knew something about how his friend was feeling. But the manner of Aella’s death was something he could never have prepared himself for, having grown up in Xanthos, far from the ways of the eldren.

  He gave Eiric’s shoulder a squeeze, then turned away, leaving him to grieve. Crossing the clearing, he reached the thick brush and broken saplings on the other side. Pushing through, he forced himself to look once again at Aella’s body.

  The long, lean creature straddled the bushes and saplings that had cradled her fall. Wings were at awkward angles; her angular, wedge-shaped head rested on the ground. She had fallen hard, shedding swathes of mottled scales when she struck the trees, but the gashes on her sinuous neck and pale underbelly were obviously made by tooth and claw. Her jaws were parted in death, displaying yellowed teeth.

  Her fall had left an imprint large enough to flatten an entire cluster of trees. Once Dion had spied it from above he’d immediately known what he was looking at and called out to Eiric. She had obviously died fighting, plummeting like a stone. Her gnarled claws held onto a few last shreds of the dragon that had killed her. These larger scales, a darker shade of silver, belonged to an equally ancient creature.

  Eiric had kissed her forehead and closed the huge eyelids over her staring, almond-shaped eyes, but to Dion it felt strange, seeing him bid farewell to a winged reptilian creature rather than a willowy woman with a kind smile.

  Dion turned away from the dragon’s silver-scaled corpse. Once again he approached Eiric, who remained with his back to him, facing a stand of swaying poplars.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dion said.

  Eiric didn’t turn around. ‘You found her, and for that I’m grateful. We will return tomorrow and burn her.’

  ‘Eiric . . . I . . .’

  ‘There’s nothing you can say,’ Eiric said, his voice shaking. ‘My father was strong. I only hope that I can be as strong if I find him and he is no longer himself.’

  ‘You are strong,’ Dion said. ‘I know you are. We will find Zachary, but for now, your people need a leader. If your father returns—’

  Eiric whirled. ‘He will return!’

  Dion nearly recoiled at the expression on his friend’s face. Eiric’s golden irises shone with inner fire and the whites surrounding them were reddened, ravaged by pain. He was panting, struggling to keep hold of himself. With his close-cropped silver hair, hawk-like nose and sharp jaw, his white skin and towering height, the eldran was suddenly intimidating.

  ‘He was forced to kill his own wife,’ Eiric said hoarsely. ‘He hasn’t turned. He’s gone because he is grieving.’

  ‘I know this is hard,’ Dion said. ‘I lost my parents too, and all I wanted to do was be alone. But someone came to me and gave me hope. He helped me to fight against those who were to blame. He helped me to keep going. Eiric, it was your father who did that. We all leaned on him but now he’s gone. So it remains for you to decide your people’s path. They have lost their homes. They are afraid.’

  ‘What can I tell them?’ Eiric said flatly. ‘Where can we go?’

  Dion had an answer ready. ‘Phalesia. The Phalesians saw your people defend their city from the sun king’s forces. You would be welcome.’

  Eiric began to shake his head, but then pondered for a time. ‘Phalesia . . .’ He frowned. ‘We would be safe within stone walls, alt
hough perhaps not as welcome as you say.’ He sighed and nodded. ‘Seth can lead them. He’s the oldest of our number.’

  ‘You won’t lead them yourself?’

  ‘No. My mother . . .’ Eiric’s voice broke. ‘Her death wasn’t recent. Father should have returned.’

  ‘Your people need you.’

  ‘I can’t give up on him. I have to know if he is dead or alive, sane or wild.’ He took a deep breath. ‘If he is lost to madness, there is one place I might find him.’ Eiric’s voice firmed. ‘I’m going to Cinder Fen. Help the others find safety in Phalesia. That is your world.’

  ‘They’ll be looked after without me. You can trust Aristocles to take care of them when they arrive.’

  Eiric’s voice became bitter. ‘And what then? The Village is gone. We can rebuild, but as long as Triton is alive we’ll live in fear.’

  Glancing at his friend, Dion saw darkness in Eiric’s eyes, the same darkness that took Nikolas after the murder of his family. He wondered if seeking out his father was the only task Eiric had in mind.

  ‘As for you, my friend,’ Eiric said, ‘you took a turn at becoming an eldran. But I have been listening, and even now you refer to our group as separate from yourself. Perhaps my father was wrong. Perhaps you don’t belong in our world.’

  Dion met his friend’s gaze. ‘It was your father who persuaded me to try, but now? You might be right.’ He reflected. After the loss of the Village, he’d been thinking hard about his place in the world. ‘My future might not be with your people, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that the world is endless. Perhaps there is a place out there, somewhere, where the people won’t care about my blood. I’ve also realized something. I miss the sea. I miss sailing with the wind and arriving in a new port. I miss being alone on the water, with nothing but the sun and sea creatures for company.’ Now Eiric was looking at Dion with interest, and it was Dion’s eyes that were unfocused. ‘There is a boat I once sailed in, a beautiful, lean vessel. Perfect for exploring the Maltherean. Just right for traveling and trading, and searching for a place where I won’t have to hide who I am.’

  ‘I have never heard you speak like this,’ Eiric murmured. ‘Where is this boat?’

  ‘I had to leave it behind. But most likely it’s still where I saw it last. And with the right materials, repairs will be simple.’

  ‘Where is it?’ Eiric pressed.

  Dion gave a shadow of a smile. ‘Cinder Fen. It appears our paths are aligned.’

  18

  Chloe walked to the doorway that opened onto the villa’s terrace, desperate to get some sunshine on her skin and fresh air in her lungs. As always happened, the soldier, one of Nikolas’s king’s guard, came forward and shook his head. He blocked the doorway with his wide body, his expression impossible to make out, hidden as his face was by his helmet.

  ‘I need some air,’ Chloe explained. She winced. ‘I don’t feel well.’

  ‘Your king and husband prefers that you stay indoors.’

  Chloe tried to get past him but he blocked her way again. ‘Fine.’ She placed a hand on her hip and made a sound of pain. ‘Then you’ll have to go to the Temple of Aeris for me. I need peppermint.’

  He scowled and shook his head. ‘Send one of the servants.’

  ‘They’re all out for the day.’ Chloe knew they wouldn’t be back for hours; she’d made sure of it.

  ‘Then you’ll have to wait.’

  Chloe hadn’t expected him to leave his post, but she now hoped he would at least value her well-being enough for her to get Sophia out of danger. She gasped, clutching her hips with both hands now. ‘I need a healer from the temple,’ she said, grimacing. ‘If you won’t go, send my sister.’

  ‘Not without an escort,’ he grunted. ‘You’re going to have to wait for the servants.’

  Scowling, Chloe turned back inside. Glancing around the reception, she pulled up a seat and sat at the high table, before placing her head in her hands and groaning. She heard movement as the guard left the doorway, and lifted her chin as she pondered.

  Chloe was now married, the Oracle’s prophecy fulfilled, although she’d barely seen Nikolas since. Nonetheless, she knew that she was a critical part of his plans. Whether or not he wanted to become king of Phalesia, his marriage to Chloe would bolster his status, making it difficult for Aristocles to later denounce him. His advisers would be pressing him to sire an heir. Any child would have a potential claim on both nations.

  Her thoughts turned to her father.

  More than at any other time, he needed her.

  Soldiers talked, and with Chloe considered safely under guard, confined in her own home, she’d heard them discussing where they might next be deployed. Aristocles had fled, but Nikolas wouldn’t allow the former first consul to regroup and whip up opposition to his growing influence. If Aristocles reached Tanus and enlisted the support of Queen Zanthe, the outcome could be war.

  Nikolas had sent out men to pursue Aristocles but Amos was a skilled warrior and success wasn’t assured. Chloe’s guards had heard their king give orders. Nikolas was going to lead the army to Tanus.

  And Aristocles wouldn’t know they were coming until it was too late.

  Still seated at the high table, Chloe looked up when she heard her sister’s voice. ‘I heard,’ Sophia whispered. ‘Are we . . . ?’

  Despite knowing that what she was going to attempt was dangerous, Chloe nodded. She motioned for Sophia to come closer and gave her a swift hug. ‘You know why this is important?’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘And you can be brave? Just this once?’

  Sophia nodded.

  ‘Stay here,’ Chloe said.

  Taking a deep breath, she rose from the table and crept to the open doorway. Poking her head around the edge of the frame, she saw the guard just a short distance away, pacing and keeping watch on both the streets below and Aristocles’ villa. His head moved and Chloe ducked inside before she was seen.

  ‘He’s alone. Are you ready?’

  When her sister gave another frightened nod, Chloe felt her own fear rising. Before her courage failed her, she collapsed, sprawling out onto the hard stone.

  ‘Please, come quickly!’ Sophia ran to the doorway.

  Chloe stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide with pain, and made her breath run in short gasps, remembering the lessons she’d received from Tomarys, her assigned bodyguard when she’d been the sun king’s prisoner in Lamara. Tomarys had taught her that the seeds of victory are sown before the fight begins, that to achieve victory means not only to be prepared, but also to play with expectations. She was a woman, and so the more skilled and powerful a warrior was, the more he would think she posed no threat. Now she wasn’t just a woman, she was a sick woman.

  The guard’s hurried footsteps accompanied his heavy breathing as he entered and stood for a moment over Chloe’s prone form, wondering what he should do. All the servants were away. Chloe knew that there was only one course available to him. He would send Sophia for a healer, but rather than go to the temple, Sophia would go to their pre-arranged hiding place, and with her sister safely out of the picture, Chloe would pretend to become gravely ill. Then, when the right moment came, she would make her own escape.

  ‘Girl,’ he said to Sophia in a rasping voice. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know,’ Sophia stammered.

  ‘When do your servants return?’

  ‘Not until the end of the day.’

  He grunted. ‘Then the three of us are going to stay here until then.’

  Chloe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew the guard was cold-hearted – she’d seen him kill Consul Charon – but the one thing she hadn’t expected was for him to risk her life.

  Sophia’s voice became shrill. ‘But she needs help!’

  ‘I am sure she does,’ he said. ‘But I’m to keep the both of you under guard at all times.’

  Chloe’s eyes moved; she saw that the g
uard was standing with his arms crossed, legs apart like an immovable statue. His attention was on her sister, rather than her.

  Suddenly she sat up, putting a hand over her heart and taking in a sharp, choking breath. She’d been around sick people at the temple enough to know what it looked like when someone was struggling to breathe; now she had to trust in her own ability to act the part.

  While the guard frowned down at her, Chloe pointed at her chest, beckoning him closer. Finally he bent at the waist, ignoring her flailing hands. She wheezed and continued to wave. Scowling, he leaned farther in. She reached up and her hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

  She drew it in a heartbeat, sliding the blade free from the scabbard, and without hesitating she stabbed upwards. The point penetrated his throat, the only place where his armor didn’t protect him, opening a gash that grew wider as she pressed the broad blade deeper. Blood gushed out of his mouth and Chloe was forced to roll to the side, keeping hold of her weapon as he toppled forwards. He made a sickening gurgle as she climbed to her feet, seeing him face down with a growing pool of red liquid spreading around his body.

  ‘He’s dead,’ Chloe said matter-of-factly. ‘You did well.’

  Her sister couldn’t take her eyes off the dead guard.

  ‘Sophia,’ Chloe said. ‘Look at me. Remember. He killed Consul Charon.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘We need to leave.’

  Chloe placed the sword in the dead man’s grip, leaving whoever discovered him to wonder who had battled the guard and freed the two captives. Hurriedly she took her sister’s hand, leading her out to the terrace, where a stairway bordered by flowering shrubs descended to the streets below. Taking the steps two at a time, Chloe and Sophia ran as swiftly as they could. They were still in danger; if someone came upon them as they descended the steps there would be nowhere to run.

  But the gods were with them, and Chloe had been formulating this plan for days. She and her sister both knew the city well, and soon they were running through the alleys that skirted the agora and would lead them via dirtier streets to the lower city. Chloe had no choice but to take them directly across the broad avenue that connected the two districts, but she dashed quickly and her sister managed to keep up. Finally as she rounded a corner she slowed to a walk. They were close to their destination, and she decided she could risk a moment to speak with her younger sister.