‘You may now go,’ she said in a rasping voice.
Chloe clambered unsteadily to her feet.
As she fled back through the cave, the words of the prophecy were burned into her mind like a brand on the hide of a beast.
You will kill a man you pity.
You will desire a man you fear.
You will wed a man you do not love.
Rather than bringing clarity to her uncertain future, Chloe felt cursed.
20
Gusts of wind came and went, ebbing and then returning in force, making constant work for the five men who crewed the twenty-foot sailing galley. Tall waves lifted the vessel up and sent it skittering down the far sides. Bursts of spray drenched the sailors, but the sun was bright and the day warm.
Dion manned the tiller, judging the approach of each wave carefully and fighting to keep the boat on course. A fresh flurry of wind pocketed the mainsail and just ahead of him Cob pulled on the rope with his calloused hands, hauling the sail closer still.
The seas were too strong for the oars but the other three crewmen – the youth Riko, the tall broken-nosed brawler Otus, and the wiry middle-aged Sal – kept themselves busy bailing water and following Cob’s instructions with the headsail.
‘Cinder Fen.’ Cob nodded to the brooding landmass dead ahead. ‘We’ll be there before sunset.’
Dion recalled his mother’s warning to stay away from Cinder Fen. But she hadn’t known about the capture of the first consul’s daughter, and it was by far the shortest course to Athos and then Ilea. Cob knew the terrain, and said that provided they found the jutting promontory affording them a camp a reasonable distance from the mountains, they would be safe. He had beached there three times before.
But wildren were always unpredictable.
As the wind freshened and came more steadily rather than in unpredictable squalls, Dion decided they were making good time. Their destination grew closer, revealing the different mountain peaks and the dark clouds hanging over them. A strip of brilliant white shore became visible.
‘Take us no closer,’ Cob instructed. ‘We’ll follow the shore from a good distance until we find the safe place.’
Suddenly Riko stood bolt upright, gripping hold of the mast as he stared out into the sea, white-faced. He shielded his eyes and scanned the water, back in the direction of their wake, his eyes roving wildly.
‘What is it?’ Sal asked.
When Riko said nothing, Cob roared, ‘Speak, boy!’
‘A—A serpent. I saw gray scales and a huge arching back.’ He turned eyes filled with terror on Cob and Dion. ‘I . . . I think I just saw a leviathan!’
‘Silex, keep us safe,’ Sal whispered.
‘Are you certain? Which way?’ Cob asked.
Riko pointed to the right of dead astern. Dion turned and stared as every man in the boat squinted at the sea.
‘Keep her on course!’ Cob growled at him. ‘There are enough of us looking.’
Dion’s skin crawled as he waited for another sighting. He continued to follow the shoreline, a few miles away.
The moments dragged by. The wooden beams of the boat groaned and he shivered, expecting the timbers to split apart as a serpent struck from below. Despite the old man’s instructions he scanned the sea when he could, fighting to also keep the boat lined up against the ceaseless pounding of the waves.
Finally, after a long silence spent searching, Cob called out to Riko again. ‘Are you certain, lad?’
‘I . . . I think so,’ Riko said. He still stood by the mast, clutching the stout pole with white-knuckled fingers.
‘It could have been a whale,’ Dion said.
‘And if it wasn’t?’ Sal demanded. The wiry man, who had sailed these waters with Cob for half his life, was almost trembling.
‘If we’re sharing the sea with a leviathan, we need to head in,’ Cob said. ‘Before it’s too late.’
‘We should keep sailing,’ said Dion. ‘Cinder Fen is more dangerous than the open ocean. Everyone says to either camp in force or beach at the refuge. It will be safer farther up, on the promontory, as far as we can get from the mountains.’
‘Turn us in.’ Cob brought the full force of his glare on Dion. Despite his diminutive size, he could still be intimidating. ‘If there’s a serpent out there our safest option is to head for shallow water.’
‘There’s more sailing in the day,’ Dion persisted. ‘We have to—’
‘You’ve never been to Cinder Fen, Dion. I have.’
‘I’m with Cob,’ Otus said.
‘Take us in,’ said Riko.
‘Sal?’ Dion asked the last man in the group.
‘Cob’s the best sailor I know,’ Sal said, scratching the stubble on his angular jaw. He took a deep breath. ‘He’s also stayed alive long enough to grow warts.’ He nodded to the beckoning shore, close enough to make out the breakers. ‘I’m for getting us out of the water.’