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Back Copper Chain Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. MAP
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Finally she burst free to the surface before another wave hit her, crashing down onto her head, knocking her under again. Gulping salt water, she coughed and tried to push her way to the top once more. For a long time she could only concentrate on keeping her head up and trying to eject liquid from her lungs, even as the surging sea swept her away.

Still clutching her staff, finally she was able to get her bearings as the peaks and troughs continued to toss her around. She could see crewmen in the distance and tried to swim toward them, but then yet another wave swept her away. She paddled over to one of the planks that were now the last remnants of the proud galley and pulled herself onto it. Holding on to the plank, resting her staff across it, she rode out the next, smaller wave.

When the sea finally calmed, she realized she was alone. The ship carrying Isobel to some unknown destination was a speck in the distance. There wasn’t a crewman from her own galley to be seen. She called out, but no voice returned her calls.

The ocean was wide and featureless in all directions. She didn’t even know where she was, or where the currents would take her.

She knew then that she would be lucky if she survived. When thirst and starvation sapped her strength, and she could no longer hold on to the floating plank, she would die.

29

29

Back in his normal form, Dion woke to a swift boot kicking him in the side. He rolled over and glared up at the man standing over him.

‘Get up,’ Kyphos grunted. ‘We need to keep moving.’

With a scowl, Dion roused himself, and as the fog of sleep gave way to remembrance, despair sank into his gut. He was at a rough campsite on the top of a mile-high cliff. A sheer precipice nearby plummeted down to the Chasm. Across the void, the opposite cliff appeared hazy in the morning light. Birds wheeled in the sky, while far below, water rushed through the narrow gap, mingling the waters of the Maltherean and Aleuthean seas.

‘Here,’ Kyphos said in his gruff voice, tossing him a pouch. Dion glanced warily at his strangely muscular, stooped captor, before opening the pouch to see that it was filled with trail mix. ‘Eat.’

Dion ate slowly as he watched the hunchback, who paced and stretched before turning and walking to the cliff edge to gaze down into the Chasm. With his enemy’s back turned, Dion could easily rush forward to push him over the edge and kill him.

But he couldn’t. Isobel needed him. His future child needed him. He had to find her.

‘Finished?’ Kyphos turned away from the precipice. ‘We need to get moving if we want to reach Malakai today.’

Dion climbed to his feet. ‘Where is Isobel? What is it you want me for so badly?’