Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(94)

Chloe imagined she was once more practicing with Tomarys in the arena. She felt his arms around her as he made his demonstrations. She remembered her own practice. She knew she couldn’t hesitate; she had to get the move right, and get it right first time.

‘Thank you, Tomarys,’ she whispered.

‘What did you say?’ the guard snarled.

When she moved, Chloe put every bit of strength she possessed into the spin. She sent breath whistling out of her chest in one swift gust, grunting and making a savage cry she had never heard come out of her own lips.

Chloe turned in the direction of her free arm. Caught by surprise, the guard suddenly found himself releasing her, unable to fight the force of her whole body. Like an uncoiling spring she whirled, making a point with her elbow and bringing it higher than her head as she moved.

The roar was still in her lips as her elbow crashed into the soldier’s face. She felt nothing but triumph as she made contact. Something broke in his face. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. The soldier cried out in agony and put his hands to his nose as his head tilted back so that he was staring at the ceiling. Her body completed the turn, and Chloe now used the elbow once more. She didn’t hesitate; she jabbed it into the soldier’s exposed throat, as hard as she could.

He crumpled, and she doubted he would move again.

‘Nothing is more powerful than the warrior who will achieve his objective or die trying.’

Her second guard’s eyes were wide open with shock. Rather than turn to run, and have him grapple her from behind, Chloe charged. She went for his hand as he reached for his sword; at the same time she smashed the top of her head into his nose.

Tomarys had always said this was a useful move, given her shorter height. He’d said it was exceptionally painful, but that she couldn’t allow herself to feel sympathy; she must be like stone. Chloe brought her head up and pushed with her legs, feeling the guard’s nose crunch like gravel beneath a boot heel. When he cried out she made a knife-edge with her hand and struck his wrist at the joint.

His hand came away from the sword.

It was now her sword.

She drew it in a single movement and ran the guard through, immediately withdrawing the blade as blood poured out. The soldier moaned and fell down.

Chloe didn’t wait to scan the room or give the other soldiers time to attack. She had thought this plan through and taken her bearings. She knew that there were no more guards between her and the exterior courtyard.

Still carrying the sword, wondering at the heavy blade that for some reason felt as light as a feather, she started to sprint.

A ragged voice called after her – Solon was still in the throes of his coughing fit. ‘Stop her!’

Cries followed her as she left the throne room and traveled along corridors she knew well. She passed a steward who dashed to the side with a cry at the young woman with the blood-drenched sword rushing past.

Running through the palace’s main portal and reaching the courtyard, she crossed the area of paths and gardens in seconds.

On the far side, three soldiers guarded the wide gate. Two stood out in the street, shielding their eyes from the late afternoon glare as they looked down at the harbor. The third saw Chloe coming. His mouth opened as he started to speak.

Her sword point found his throat. He clutched his hands around his neck and fell to his knees.

Chloe speared the next guard in the back, directly between his shoulder blades. The last one turned and raised his sword to block. Weaving to the side, she kept her sword point up and then when he moved to intercept, she did something he wasn’t expecting.

Chloe knew more about fighting without a sword than with one. Giving up a weapon would be unthinkable to a swordsman. But she wasn’t like them.

She threw the sword like a knife. It made for a clumsy throw, but he was forced to prevent sharp steel striking his body by moving himself. With his attention distracted she shifted around him and then with his back to her she brought her clenched fist into his kidney.

He grunted with pain. When he turned to face her, she brought her knee up between his legs. He dropped like a felled tree, tilting to one side and tumbling to the ground. She bent to pick up the sword she’d thrown, then hacked at his neck.

She now had to find fresh clothing and the sword would only get in the way. Tossing the weapon, just a girl, weak and defenseless, she ran away from the palace.

Chloe was free.





45


Dion rushed up the stairs to his room high in the House of Algar. He was covered in soot and his throat was burning from exposure to the dense black smoke. A different kind of fire burned within him. He had destroyed many of the sun king’s warships, but the eldran had put out the fires, saving many more. He had to quickly get his bow and quiver and flee.

He was out of breath by the time he reached his room. He pulled aside the entrance curtain and stopped in his tracks.

Chloe, daughter of Aristocles, sat on his bed.

Her long blue-black hair framed a triangular face that was pale as death. The brown eyes above her arched, upturned nose, were filled with fear. She was covered in blood. Anoush sat beside her. Dion saw that she was clutching his arms in a white-knuckled grip as he whimpered.

‘Let him go,’ Dion growled.

Chloe nodded and released the boy. He leaped up and ran to hide behind Dion.

‘I got your message,’ she said as she slumped.