Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1)
Read Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) Online
Authors: James Maxwell
ALSO BY JAMES MAXWELL
E
VERMEN
S
AGA
Enchantress
The Hidden Relic
The Path of the Storm
The Lore of the Evermen
Seven Words of Power
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2016 by James Maxwell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 978-1503948419
ISBN-10: 1503948412
Cover illustration by Alan Lynch
Cover design by Lisa Horton
For my wife, Alicia, with all my love
CONTENTS
1
Roaring thunder crackled and boomed, rippling across the waters of the Maltherean Sea, bouncing from isle to isle. The sound climbed the cliffs skirting the shore of a heavy landmass. Arriving at a city nestled in the curve of a harbor, it rolled over the signs of civilization: mud-brick houses and towering temples of stone.
In unison, tens of thousands of people woke gasping with fear. The rumble was louder than any storm experienced in living memory. The heavens themselves were breaking; the sky would soon come raining down in pieces.
At a proud villa crowning a hill near the city’s center, the thunder shattered the slumber of a young dark-haired woman.
Chloe’s eyes shot open, her heart pounding in her chest. Lying on her back on her bed pallet, her gaze darted to the stone window where a thin curtain billowed in the breeze.
The window revealed a starry night sky, with not a single cloud in sight to obscure the firmament. This time of year, early summer, it rarely rained, and when she’d bid her father goodnight there hadn’t been any sign of a storm. With the fading of the thunder she now wondered if she’d heard it at all. Perhaps the gods had visited her dreams and sent her a message to wake, for the cobwebs of sleep were now entirely banished.
Silence ensued. Chloe rolled out of bed and stood, her pulse still racing. Barefoot and naked on such a warm night, she rummaged in her clothing chest and swiftly wrapped a plain white chiton around her body, folding the diaphanous garment and fastening it with a copper pin. She exited her bedchamber, one of the many rooms in her father’s sprawling villa, and walked down the hall to check on her younger sister. Having just woken, Chloe’s long flowing hair was unkempt and she tucked a stray lock behind her ear.
Sophia lay on her pallet, wide-eyed and terrified. Just eleven, she was eight years younger than her sister.
‘Chloe?’ Sophia said hesitantly. ‘I’m scared.’
‘Hush,’ she soothed. ‘I’m just going to go and see. I’ll come straight back.’
Evidently, despite the cloudless sky, the thunder was real. Frowning, Chloe went back through the wide hallway, stone-walled on both sides, and through the reception, the main communal space, with marble statues in the corners and low tables and stools scattered about. Exiting the reception and passing the kitchen, she finally reached the terrace, where a decorated rail framed a wide paved area. The villa comprised of two levels: an upper story for the family and a smaller, lower floor for the servant’s quarters. The view from the terrace was unrivaled among all the homes in the city.
Finally, as she stood out in the open air, Chloe looked up at the sky.
Swathes of glittering stars returned her stare: the night was as clear as it had been when she’d retired. Bringing her gaze down, she saw a sliver of golden moon just above the horizon, the curling waves of the midnight sea revealed in its glow. She wondered if it appeared a little rougher than could be attributed to the breeze alone.
Chloe’s brow furrowed as she turned her attention to the city below.
Her home, the villa of her father, Aristocles, First Consul of Phalesia, occupied a hill only a few hundred paces from the agora, the city’s main market square and gathering place. Near the terrace where she stood, a stairway bordered by flowering shrubs descended to the cobbled stones of the streets below. From her vantage point Chloe could see the four temples that clustered around the agora, while two more grand structures nearby were the library, where the records were kept, and the lyceum, where the Assembly of Consuls met to administer the city.
Warm light glowed from braziers that rested against the temple columns. At this hour the agora would usually be deserted, but Chloe could see at least a dozen men, arms waving as they spoke frantically, but too far away for her to see much more.
Chloe’s gaze swept past the agora and traveled upwards, to a place near the sea where a jagged cliff rose from the harbor’s edge. At the summit, the highest point for miles, a large circular space could be seen from all quarters of the upper city. She felt comforted when she saw that the eternal flame burned brightly, reflecting from the tall marble columns of the surrounding temple. The huge torch on its pedestal cast flickering light on a golden chest the size of a large table, located half a dozen paces away, at the center of the paved plateau. The Ark of Revelation looked like nothing so much as an altar, which, in a way, it was.
An unusually large wave splashed against the shore, sending spray high into the air and drawing Chloe’s attention once more to the harbor. The next wave was bigger still. It struck the small fishing boats lined up on the crescent shoreline and even threatened to drag at the bigger naval galleys. Fishermen and soldiers alike scurried down to the shore. Soon they were hauling vessels as high as they could above the tide line. Still more men, who’d barely taken time to dress, called to one another as they ran through the agora to the embankment, a sloped defensive bastion above the shore, where a diagonal stairway gave them access to the harbor below. Together they worked to save Phalesia’s fleet from this strange thunder without clouds and waves without wind.
Chloe glanced inland to the densely populated township, and wondered where her father was. While the agora, temples, and villas of the wealthy were on raised ground above the harbor, the bulk of the citizenry lived below, within the walls guarding Phalesia’s landward boundary. Her father had departed in the evening for a symposium hosted by one of the consuls who lived in the lower city. The rowdy symposiums always went until late, with wine consumed in quantity, but Chloe knew her father. He would come running at the first sign of trouble.
She decided to return to her sister’s bedside. But as her hands left the terrace’s stone rail, the thunder sounded again.
This time its power was overwhelming. It came from everywhere all at once, from directly overhead and from under the ground. The roar was louder than when Chloe had visited the great waterfall at Krastonias and boldly stood on a ledge beside the torrent, unable to hear her own voice no matter how much she shouted into the spray. Her thoughts vanished in primal fear as she clapped her hands to her ears.
The ground started to shake, and she fell to her knees.
The heavens rumbled around her, mingling with the crack and tumble of falling stone. The floor felt as if it was lifting underneath like a wild horse railing at its first rider. Rippling like the ocean, the ground bucked as she felt herself being raised and dropped repeatedly.
Chloe tried to stand but stumbled, barely managing to turn her body around to face her home. In front of her eyes three stone blocks fell from the walls holding up the tiled roof. Dust now filled the villa’s interior; she heard a splintering crash of wood and tiles somewhere inside.
‘Sophia!’ she cried.
Chloe got to her feet, falling forward and clutching onto the wall as the ground heaved. Weaving left and right like a drunkard she plunged into the clouded reception, knocking into a table and then lurching the other way, grabbing hold of the kitchen’s doorframe for support.
‘Sophia?’
As her eyes readjusted to the darkness Chloe felt the trembling begin to subside. Suddenly she could hear nothing but the sound of her rasping breath, and then the roof overhead groaned, tiles loosened by the tremor, only the aged wooden beams holding them up. Ignoring the danger, she reached the hall and peered into the darkness. Approaching the first of the bedchambers, her own, Chloe’s stomach lurched when she saw the damage ahead.
The ceiling at the back of the villa, where the bedchambers were located, had fallen in.
The area was now open to the sky. To her immediate left and right was solid wall, but going further into her own bedchamber revealed a ruinous mess. Clambering over the rubble, Chloe pushed her way past, heading deeper into the section where what had once been a ceiling lay in piles on the floor.
‘Sophia!’
Chloe coughed, the air thick with dust. She could see that past the bedchambers the rest of the villa appeared to be mostly intact; it was only this area where the solid walls now held up nothing but themselves. She prayed she would find her sister unharmed. But when she finally reached Sophia’s doorway and looked inside the blood drained from her face.
She couldn’t believe that a moment ago she had paused in this same place to speak to her sister. The interior was now filled with stones, broken beams, and baked clay tiles. The cloud of dust was so thick that the light shining from the night sky overhead showed particles swirling and swimming like sea creatures.
She continued calling her sister’s name and then, unbelievably, impossibly, she heard a thin voice wailing from under the pile.
‘Sophia?’
Following the voice, Chloe threw herself at the tiles, scrabbling at the debris and tossing rubble to one side in frantic haste. She picked up a rectangular stone and lifted it with all her strength, then cast it away before grabbing another, tearing her fingernails in the process. She worked in a frenzy, her teeth gritted and every movement focused on freeing her sister.
Chloe knew that if another tremor came, whatever was keeping
her sister alive, holding her safe from the weight above, would shift . . .
and Sophia would die.
Time passed, stretching into endless labored breaths as Chloe wheezed and gasped. She choked on the dust. Her heart hammered in her chest. She prayed to the gods that the last of the quake was past.
She didn’t know how long she fought against time and the prospect of another tremor before she saw a patch of pale skin and then a slender leg. With renewed vigor she lifted still more tiles and carried away the heavy stones, fighting the burning fatigue in her back and shoulders.
Chloe then saw what it was that had saved her sister’s life at the same time as she saw Sophia’s agonized face. A black wooden beam from the ceiling lay across the girl’s chest. Two stones from the wall, bigger than those Chloe had encountered so far, leaned diagonally against the beam, creating a space that had saved Sophia from the devastation when the ceiling fell. There was a stone right next to her head. If it had fallen two inches further she would have been killed.
‘Sophia! Look at me.’
Like Chloe, Sophia had dark hair, a wide mouth, and an upturned nose. In temperament Sophia was more carefree and she had dimples when she smiled. But now her face was filled with pain and, above all, terror.
‘I can’t . . . breathe.’
The beam that pinned Sophia down was as thick as Chloe’s waist and long enough to span the entire width of the chamber. Chloe could try to lift it by one end, but if she did, it would add pressure to her sister’s chest, and there was a good chance she would dislodge the two leaning stones from the wall, which were definitely too large for her to move.
Sophia whimpered as Chloe looked on helplessly, wondering what she should do. Her heart sank as she realized she could never free her sister alone.
‘Sophia, listen to me. I need help. I can’t do this on my own. I have to go but I will return.’
Sophia nodded weakly.
Still fearing that another tremor would come at any moment, Chloe left the chamber and clambered over the debris in the hallway to run back to the terrace. From the direction of nearby houses she could hear screams, cries for help, and the rough voices of men coordinating their efforts. The city’s largest structures appeared mostly intact, with the temples lofty and indomitable as ever, but a plaintive wail told the story of at least one casualty. Revealed in the starlight, she spied several other houses with collapsed roofs.
Seeing movement close by, Chloe watched three scurrying figures descending the steps leading from the villa. She recognized the elderly household servants and was relieved all three were unharmed, but when she called and waved, try as she might, she couldn’t get their attention.
She was going to have to descend the steps herself and find some strong men to come back to the villa to help. Her father was the first consul, and eventually she would find some soldiers who knew her and would come to her aid.
But the journey would take time, and there was no guarantee she would be able to find the help she needed. She didn’t want to leave Sophia for so long. Even without another tremor, the rubble could shift. Chloe also didn’t know the extent of her sister’s injuries. Sophia needed help urgently.
Chloe closed her eyes and muttered a swift prayer to Edra, the protector of children. The gods were angry with Phalesia, that much was evident from the shaking of the world, but surely the goddess would spare an innocent?
She opened her eyes as she heard an improbable sound: a snapping and gusting, like wind in a sail. Though the sea breeze came from ahead, Chloe felt a buffeting wind on her back. She realized it was the movement of gigantic wings.
Her eyes widened as the faint shadow cast by her body changed: something huge was flying above and behind her.
Chloe whirled.