Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) by James Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

blow. Still he persisted, and then his older brother suggested archery.
    To Dion’s surprise, the handling of a bow came as naturally to him as breathing. He practiced in secret, developing his skill until he could hit the center of a target at seventy paces nine times out of ten. His brother was proud, and together they arranged a demonstration for their father.
    But in Xanthos, archery was not considered a suitable skill for a king’s son. The army’s strength came from the coordinated phalanxes of hoplites, working together with shield, sword, and spear. King Markos didn’t even stay long enough to see Dion’s proficiency before he forbade further practice.
    The young Dion could no longer entertain a position in the army.
    But Nikolas intervened again. He took his younger brother to Cob and asked the old man to teach Dion the handling of boats. Despite the fact that Xanthos had only a small fleet made up mostly of fishing vessels, trade by sea between Xanthos, Phalesia, and Sarsica was increasing year by year. A nation needed wealth to pay the men who worked in the army and fit them with armor and weapons.
    Sailing came to Dion even more swiftly than archery. He knew he had finally found his path in life. In a nation preoccupied with the land, where mining and farming were the main occupations after soldiering, and where athletes competed at the Xanthian Games in swordsmanship, wrestling, javelin throwing, and running, Dion instead loved the sea.
    And in his time trading and traveling, as crewman and rower, purser and occasionally captain, he had come to a startling conclusion. The future of the Galean continent would not be decided by hoplites alone. It would be determined by control of the ocean’s shifting tides.
    ‘Look,’ Cob said, pointing.
    Dion saw that the cliff ahead, on the port side, leaning over the narrows, was newly broken. The earthquake that had taken place over a week ago had opened up a seam in the peak, and the protrusion had evidently splintered from the cliff and tumbled into the water.
    ‘We need to get closer,’ Dion said. ‘See if there is anything we can do to clear it.’
    ‘Clear it?’ Cob snorted.
    Dion smiled and then the smile fell, his forehead creasing as he devoted his attention to examining the water ahead. The narrows had always been more of a blessing than a curse, for on the other side of the passage was a clear run to the harbor of Phalesia, which meant that any enemy arriving by sea first had to pass Xanthos’s neighboring nation’s fleet. He considered the sense of security Phalesia provided a mixed blessing, however, for it gave his father, King Markos, little incentive to develop his own fleet. Boats were for fishing and trading, according to Dion’s father, and little else.
    He finally let some rope drift through his fingers, barely registering the friction on his calloused hands. The sail slackened and the small boat slowed as he approached the place where only sixty feet separated the island of Coros from the mainland.
    ‘Be ready to turn,’ Dion instructed.
    As often happened, the order was met by a muttered curse, directed at his back.
    Dion peered into the water ahead, but still the narrows appeared clear. The tip of the cliff must have fallen somewhere, but now that steep rock walls rose on both sides the boat was in shadow. The wind picked up sudden strength, gusting the vessel forward and dangerously close to the place where the gap was smallest.
    Then he saw it.
    It was directly ahead, a huge boulder with a jagged spear for a point, completely submerged under the water, but with the knife’s edge just under the surface.
    The razor-sharp rock, newly broken, was just a stone’s throw in front of the boat.
    ‘Turn!’ Dion cried. ‘Quickly!’
    He released the rope and pushed the boom out as far as he could, a trick that used the wind to initiate the turn. Staring back with wide eyes, he saw Cob had the tiller hard around. The boat began to turn.
    But