BooksBarbecue
Back Copper Chain
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

Sprawled on the ground, Dion gave no sign of pain as he tried to lift himself up, but then he felt a soldier’s boot heel on his back, keeping him pressed on his stomach. Lifting his head, he saw a man in a gray robe come forward, carrying a staff with an iron claw on the top. Half of his face was melted, like wax held to a fire.

‘Magus Tarik,’ Palemon said. ‘It appears we must await Zara’s arrival before we can be sure of his cooperation. Put our captive in one of the cells below the Sky Tower. Post a guard on him at all times.’

The magus bowed. ‘I will see it done, sire,’ he said in a rasping, flinty voice.

‘Welcome, King of Xanthos,’ Palemon said. ‘Welcome to Malakai.’

30

30

Dion paced his strange cell as all manner of thoughts rushed through his head. He thought about Isobel and wondered where she was, and if she was safe and unharmed. And back in Xanthos . . . his disappearance must have been noticed. What was his uncle doing? What could he do? Would he and Isobel ever leave Malakai alive?

Above all, what did Palemon want with him? He had gone to great lengths to capture Isobel. He clearly wanted Dion’s cooperation with something. But what were they going to force him to do?

He had been alone now for a long time, and had been given hard bread and water, enough to last several days. The cage was big, large enough to house a crowd of prisoners, and aside from the iron collar around his neck he was free to roam. The iron bars on three sides – the gate and the shared walls between cells – were as thick as his wrists. The rear wall was solid stone.

When the sorcerer, Tarik, brought him here he’d seen that there were perhaps a dozen cells, arrayed in a long line, all empty. He was underground, beneath the immense tower, and could shout as loud as he wanted without any hope of being heard. There were two guards outside the main entrance at street level, armored soldiers with swords and large, powerful crossbows.

Until he had more information, he couldn’t even begin to prepare an escape plan. He needed to know that Isobel was alive and well, and where she was being held prisoner. If he could remove his collar, nothing would then stop him from freeing her and escaping. But for now, he had to bide his time.

Gripping the bars on the gate and peering out into the darkness, lit only by the wan glow of an oil lamp, he frowned as he examined the far wall. There was writing on it, carved in haste, for the lettering was far from even. The symbols reminded him of the writing he’d seen decorating the exterior of the Ark of Revelation, but it was an utterly unfamiliar language and meant nothing to him at all.