Despite the efforts of the occasional Ilean soldier who managed to score a hit on a dragon’s crimson hide, or archer who landed an arrow in an Aleuthean warrior’s eye, the outcome of the assault was never in dispute. Soon the sixteen ships of the front line would be floating without crews, dead in the water. A crippled warship drifted away from its fellows, sail blazing, decks a flaming inferno. It looked as if one of Kargan’s captains had sacrificed his vessel rather than let it fall into enemy hands.

And soon the dragon riders would turn their attention to the second wave of biremes.

Kargan swallowed. His face drained of color as he watched it all unfold. He was a man used to winning. He’d helped Solon gain his empire and then seized power against all odds after Solon’s death.

Now he was going to lose his entire fleet.

‘Turn us around!’ he roared.

He felt a strong hand grip his upper arm. Whirling, he saw Javid, the huge man looming over him, staring into his face. ‘There is no way to fight this. We have to abandon ship if we want any chance of survival.’

‘No,’ Kargan said. ‘I cannot lose my fleet.’

‘The decision has been made for you! We have to dive overboard—’

Javid’s voice broke off as he looked into the water. Kargan followed his friend’s eyes, staring down at the sea. An immense silver-scaled creature, long and serpentine, as wide as the ship but twice the length, was passing under the Nexotardis.

Something struck the bow, hard enough to make the entire vessel shudder from keel to mast. But rather than disappear, the pressure continued, and suddenly the Nexotardis was moving. The bireme tilted as a powerful force pushed against the vessel’s end and it began to spin on its axis.

Kargan couldn’t fathom what was happening. He stared down and saw the great silver leviathan, perpendicular to his warship, its head pressed against the bow as its tail thrashed at the sea, rotating the bireme until it was once again facing the Chasm.

Then he heard a voice calling his name.

Kargan turned to see a young man with flaxen hair and pale brown eyes approaching. Though he wasn’t as tall as Kargan, he had an athletic build and carried himself with authority, despite the fact that he was wearing a ragged tunic and was soaked to the skin, dripping water on the deck as he walked. He looked familiar, but Kargan couldn’t recall where he’d seen him before.

‘King Kargan,’ the young man said again. ‘I am Dion of Xanthos. You cannot defeat them, but I can help you survive.’

Dion’s gaze traveled to the ships flanking the Nexotardis on both sides, and Kargan now saw that nearly every bireme had a serpent rotating it to point back toward the entrance to the Maltherean Sea.