Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(116)

Chloe wasn’t alone on the embankment and stood in the middle of a long line of consuls. Flanking them on both sides were a few dozen archers and a score of soldiers.

She heard her father beside her let out a breath. ‘Daughter,’ he said quietly. ‘You should go and hide in the villa with your sister and the servants.’ His eyes were moist as he looked at her. ‘I don’t want to regain you only to lose you again.’

Chloe once more scanned the long arc of blue-cloaked Phalesian soldiers on the shore. ‘I came too late.’

Aristocles shook his head. ‘Your warning gives us a chance. The men are equipped and deployed. The fleet guards the harbor. If we survive the day, Phalesia has you to thank.’

She sighed as she looked up at her father. ‘Any news from Xanthos?’

‘All we know is that the city fell. Nikolas departed through the Gates of Annika with the Xanthian army and did not return.’

Aristocles looked every day of his age. His high forehead and balding pate revealed the worry lines on his face.

‘Are you going to find a safer place?’ Chloe asked.

The first consul shook his head. ‘My place is here.’ He indicated the line of consuls, standing along the embankment as if they were the city’s last line of defense, although to a man they were unarmed and too old to fight, even if they had the skill. ‘This is where we will all make our stand. Amos will hold them on the shore, and then if he must he will fall back to this embankment. If the enemy makes it to the agora, then we know the city has fallen.’

‘Then I will stand with you,’ Chloe said, her jaw set.

Suddenly, Aristocles gripped Chloe’s arm and she saw him scanning the sky above and behind them. The sound of heavy wings filled the air. Dozens of dragons and furies in a range of sizes plunged down from overhead, approaching from the city’s landward side. Winged shapes filled the air, arranged in a V-shaped formation behind their leader.

‘Archers!’ roared an officer with a blue crest on his helmet nearby.

The cluster of archers ranged around the consuls on the embankment nocked arrows to bowstrings and drew.

‘Wait!’ Chloe cried. She ran to the officer, waving her arms. ‘Hold your fire!’

Aside from a few abandoned market stalls framing the edges, the agora was completely deserted. The foremost dragon flapped its silver-scaled wings to slow its momentum and Chloe’s eyes widened as she saw a rider on its back. The lean young man with sandy brown hair was hunched forward as he gripped onto the dragon’s neck with an expression as grim as death. Chloe recognized the crescent scar on the side of the angular reptilian head. The archers lowered their bows as she ran forward.

Dion slipped off the dragon’s back, white-faced and staggering as he found his feet. Behind him, clouds of gray smoke enveloped Zachary and the other eldren, shimmering as each changed back to his normal form.

In a heartbeat Dion stood in front of several dozen silver-haired men and women. They were all tall and lithe, with sharp features and pale skin, and wore clothing of deerskin and animal hide. Their hair was in a variety of styles: Zachary’s lustrous shoulder-length hair was short compared to some of the slim women, and several of the men’s hair was close-cropped and spiky. They were an attractive people, but grim and sober-faced.

‘What are they doing here?’ muttered a consul.

‘They’re here to fight alongside us,’ Dion said, sweeping his gaze over the gathered consuls.

‘The gods have no wish for them to be near our temples—’ began Consul Harod, his red face scowling as he stood near Chloe with his arms folded over his chest.

Chloe’s eyes blazed as she rounded on him. ‘Perhaps they were sent by the gods.’

‘Enough!’ cried Aristocles. He came to stand beside Chloe and Dion and turned to challenge the others. ‘My daughter is correct. Any man who suggests turning away the eldren who are our friends is no true patriot of Phalesia.’

Under his gaze, Harod tugged on his thick beard and was pensive for a time, before he finally nodded. ‘If they want to fight for our city, let them.’

‘They do—’ Dion said.

‘Zachary?’ Chloe interrupted. She saw that the eldran was trembling as he stood with his fists clenched at his sides. Remembering the time he had nearly lost himself in giant form, she once more saw that there was wildness in his eyes.

Zachary wasn’t the only eldran who appeared to be having trouble. He drew in a slow, shaky breath and then nodded. ‘I have been shifting form too much. I feel my identity slipping away. My people will not be able to change for long.’

‘Anything you can do to help will not be forgotten,’ Aristocles said. He bowed deeply. ‘I thank you, on behalf of all my people, for coming to our aid at this dark hour.’

Zachary merely nodded a weary acknowledgment as Chloe’s father turned to Dion.

‘Dion of Xanthos,’ Aristocles said warmly. ‘It appears my daughter is not the only one to have changed.’ Chloe could see her father take note of the bow Dion carried in one hand and the sharpened wooden spear in the other. ‘I see you no longer wear silver.’ Chloe realized it was true; Dion no longer had the silver symbol of Silex around his neck, nor the chain it hung from. ‘You are ready to take up iron, the materia of the warrior?’

Dion glanced at Chloe, then back to Aristocles. Chloe saw a strange expression on his face.