Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(23)

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.

Dion 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.

If Kargan sailed away and returned with a fleet of biremes, what could Xanthos or Phalesia do about it? Were they in danger? What was the situation in Ilea? Was the sun king eyeing the continent across the sea, or was he too busy with trouble in his own empire?