Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(47)

‘No fires,’ Dion said as he looked out at the sea and saw it was growing dark. ‘It’s a warm night. We’ll eat a cold meal.’

‘Captain?’ Riko’s voice came from behind him. The youth’s face was eager; his courage had returned now that they’d left the water. ‘You know the stories. Can we look for gemstones before we leave? We can be careful.’

‘No,’ Dion said shortly. ‘We stay in this cave and then leave as soon as we can see our hands in front of our faces. No man goes out, not until morning. Understood?’

Riko glanced at Otus and then nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Let’s eat and rest. We have an early start tomorrow.’




Dion’s dreams were disturbed by whispers, sounds of scuffling footsteps, and low voices at the edge of hearing.

Always a light sleeper, his eyes shot open.

A rumble came from a squat shape nearby; Cob was snoring as always. Sal lay near the old man, his arms folded to form a pillow as he slept on his side.

Dion sat up. It was dark in the cavern and the sky was clouded, but the moon was just over the horizon. The mouth of the cavern was wide, and with his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he swept his gaze over the interior. Standing, he looked at the rear, behind the boat.

With urgency Dion bent and grabbed hold of Cob’s shoulder as he started shaking.

‘Wha—?’

‘Shh,’ Dion hissed. ‘Wake Sal. Riko and Otus are missing.’

Cob cursed and shot up, clambering to his feet and kicking Sal in the legs. ‘Get up. Stay quiet.’

Dion grabbed his bow, placed near his head in case it was needed. Removing the leather cover, he flung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder, taking a solitary shaft and nocking it to the string.

He saw that Cob now held a small axe and Sal gripped a scabbard. Sal took hold of the sheathed sword and slowly drew it, the flat blade making a scratching sound that sent a shiver up Dion’s spine.

Dion led his two companions slowly forward. Spreading out, they saw a double moon as the orb’s reflection showed a wavering version of its original on the sea. They stepped cautiously down to the water’s edge and scanned in both directions.

‘There.’ Sal pointed.

The two missing men were wandering along the beach, eyes on the ground as they searched for the fabled gemstones. The smaller form of Riko was closer to high rocky ground and Dion watched him lift his head and call to his companion. Otus came running as Riko crouched and then straightened, holding something out in his hand while they both inspected the stone.

‘Riko,’ Sal hissed. ‘Otus.’ Neither heard him. ‘Can I shout?’

Dion looked at Cob.

‘Too risky,’ Cob said.

‘Come on, hurry,’ said Dion.

He started to run, but he was dragged to a halt when Cob grabbed hold of his wrist, arresting his motion.

Three black shapes plunged down from the clouds overhead, flapping wings growing larger in Dion’s vision with every passing moment. Their path was clear as they descended on the pair of treasure seekers. Bent over the stone, neither Riko nor Otus noticed.

‘Balal save us,’ Sal whispered.

His heart giving a lurch, Dion registered the swooping figures and raised his bow, drawing the nocked arrow to his cheek. He chose a target, sighting along the shaft as he let loose at the birdlike creature.

The string hummed and the arrow whistled through the air as it left the bow. But the shot went wide, and the triangle of furies continued their plummeting raid. They were now just a stone’s throw above the preoccupied men.

Dion aimed yet another arrow and took his first close look at creatures he’d only ever heard about second hand. Their legs and lower bodies were completely reptilian, with clawed feet and scaled leathery skin all the way to their torsos. Their heads were almost human: aside from the scraggly silver hair and wild eyes they had noses and mouths where they should be, although the jaws were enlarged, with long incisors. The scales rose to a varying degree on their torsos. The fury in the center had shoulders leading to normal arms, hands, and outstretched fingers, while the other two had reptile skin to their necks and wrinkled arms like birds, appendages closer to animals, with claws ready to rend and tear.

Outstretched wings spread from behind their backs, veined and ugly, with the bony framework clearly visible. It was as if as eldren they had been unable to completely change to dragon form, stopping somewhere halfway.

Sal and Cob now cupped hands over their mouths and screamed at the two men.

Dion loosed an arrow at the fury high on the left.

His aim was true and the shaft plunged deep into the creature’s back, just below the wings. As the arrow struck, the fury screamed in pain and wheeled away. First Riko and then Otus looked up at the sky, showing the whites of their eyes as they saw the danger.

Sal and Cob ran toward them, weapons held high. They had only halved the distance when the fury with the arms of a man collided into Riko and wrapped him in a deadly embrace, instantly rising into the air with his victim held fast. The youth writhed but was lifted high into the sky.

Dion fitted another arrow as the last fury swooped down on Otus, hitting him hard with sharp claws outstretched. For a moment there was a chaotic tangle of man and creature and then a spray of blood accompanied the creature’s cry of triumph as it flew once more into the air. Otus clutched hands to his throat and Dion saw that his face and throat were torn by long gashes. He fell to his knees and slumped, tipping over and sprawling on the ground.