Dion and Chloe watched the naval battle unfold. The two forces met and suddenly it was impossible to see what was happening. Oars splashed and warships crunched together. Serpents writhed together, sending water spouting high into the air.
Dion felt Chloe lean against him, clutching his arm as an opening gap revealed half a dozen sinking Phalesian galleys. A bireme went down and the consuls and soldiers cheered. But still more Ilean warships raked the hulls of the smaller vessels, sending torrents of water into their bellies and sinking them in moments. Archers on all sides sent volleys of arrows flying at their enemies. Dion had to remind himself that every bireme sunk was a blessing to the soldiers on the shore below.
For it was obvious to everyone watching that the Phalesian fleet was being massacred.
There was nothing the eldren from the Wilds in the north could do to help their human allies, for every serpent fought another creature just like it, and every one of the merfolk on both sides was met by an equally strong opponent. Dion’s heart went out to Zachary and his people, who were fighting despite the risk to their sanity.
The struggle between the two groups of eldren came to a close, as they were forced to call a mutual draw and leave the battle.
But the same couldn’t be said of the conflict between the two fleets of Phalesia and Ilea. Suddenly there wasn’t a Phalesian galley left afloat in the water. The line of biremes drew up once more, still at least twenty strong.
The battle for the harbor was over.
Dion took a slow breath and looked down at the thin line of men guarding the shore. When the sun king’s men disembarked, the blue-cloaked Phalesian soldiers would try to stop them before they had a chance to exit the water and form up with strength. Dion hefted his spear in his right hand and clutched his bow tightly in his left.
He met Chloe’s eyes. ‘I’m going down there.’
Dion saw her glance up at the Temple of Aldus before she nodded. ‘Dion—’ She hesitated, as if she was going to say something she wasn’t certain of, but all she said was, ‘Be safe.’
He was worried about her, but he knew her well enough to know she would never leave her father’s side. ‘You too,’ he said.
Dion ran down the thin set of diagonal steps that led to the beach from the embankment. He skirted the shore and joined the line close to the scar-faced Captain Amos.
Together they waited, fifty paces above the waterline, a long line of archers and hoplites just two soldiers deep.
The first to reach the shore were the eldren. They had done their utmost to save the city from the sun king’s fleet but had been matched by the force under Triton. First one, then another silver-haired man or woman climbed out of the water, scratched and bleeding, shaking their heads, fighting the encroaching wildness after changing for so long. Soldiers cheered and helped them out of the water and Dion saw Amos speaking with Zachary, who had a red line of claw marks on his neck. The eldran glanced at Dion as he came over.
‘It rests on you and the soldiers with you now, Dion of Xanthos,’ Zachary said. ‘I must take my people home and tend to their wounds, as well as their minds.’ His voice turned ominous as he met the gaze of both Amos and Dion. ‘You have to hold them here.’
He left, too weary to speak another word, gathering the eldren and leading them to safety.
Amos reformed his men and now they readied themselves, the long line of soldiers muttering prayers as they faced the coming assault from the water.
The twenty enemy ships passed from the blue water to the turquoise shallows. The vessels gathered momentum and then the oarsmen shipped their oars as the soldiers who manned them prepared to leave their posts to fight.
‘Archers!’ Amos cried. ‘On my mark!’
Dion plunged his spear into the pebbled beach and grabbed an arrow from his quiver, nocking it to the bowstring.
A scraping sound filled the air as the shallow hulls of the warships struck the shore. With near-perfect symmetry, vessel after vessel climbed the beach before their momentum ground to a halt.
‘Wait for it!’
The upper decks of the biremes emptied of soldiers as the officers sent their men down below. Dion tried to calm his breathing and fixed his gaze on the closest warship, just forty paces away. A torrent of yellow-cloaked soldiers poured out from both sides of the bireme’s lowest deck. The men at the front entered water that was barely ankle deep, while those at the back plunged in to their waists.
Dion remembered burning the ships back at Lamara’s harbor. He only wished he’d been able to destroy more. He drew the string to his cheek and picked his target: a bearded warrior with oiled hair slicked to his scalp.
‘Fire!’
Dion loosed his arrow as the shaft joined hundreds of others. He struck the bearded warrior in the throat, blood gushing out of his mouth as he fell. Arrows plunged into the first wave of warriors before they had a chance to climb the beach, slaughtering them in numbers.