The Tree of Life (Lost Civilizations: 3) by Vaughn Heppner

Author:Vaughn Heppner [Heppner, Vaughn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy
Published: 2010-06-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The March

“Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on.”

-- Exodus 14:15

Like alert hounds, five League biremes guarded the coastal traders, the Falan among them. Their cargo was warriors, weaponry, supplies and several chariots with trained horses.

Lord Uriah still marveled at Adah’s diplomacy, and hardly believed that a great grandson of Shur’s would march with him. It deeply touched the Patriarch, although Auroch warned him about evil-hearted treachery and knives in the dark.

The flotilla sailed from Carthalo, the shore soon changing from neat villages surrounded by garden-like fields, to rocky barrens and tall sentinel trees. Occasionally, sunlight flashed from the leafy foliage, indicating a coast watcher high on a platform. Fortunately, no signal horns blared. No longboats splashed the sea to give desperate chase. The five sleek biremes each wore a fresh coat of green paint. Their double banks of oars churned in perfect unity. Gleaming spear-points of prowling mariners on deck added to the daunting spectacle. No hidden pirate dared to face them.

Lord Uriah and Admiral Nar Naccara, from his sturdy curule chair on the stern deck, debated their next move. The obese Admiral fanned himself, and suggested they swing wide around Dishon.

“We go straight through,” Lord Uriah said, “like an arrow to its mark.”

Nar Naccara snapped his fan shut and tapped his chins. “Hm. Sometimes the shortest route is the longest.”

“Your golden tongue will untangle any difficulties we face.”

Dishon was a sprawling city nestled between two hills. Houses clustered like mushrooms in a gloomy valley. It was like a growth of buildings, some tall and others squat, most brown, with a few bright yellow temples with golden domes. Some of those sprouted a silver spire. The twin hills spread land arms into the sea, creating a glassy bay. A bell pealed from a fortress at the end of the nearest arm.

“Straight through,” said Lord Uriah.

Nar Naccara chewed his lips, anxiously watching the city harbor. Through flags and trumpets, he ordered the five biremes to interpose themselves between the harbor and their coastal traders.

The five galleys barely completed the maneuver, when a red-painted Dishon galley raced across the glassy bay. It was like a water spider, lower to the waves than the biremes. With its sixty oars to a side, it fairly skittered across the sea, with war-drums beating.

“I’d love nothing more than to sink it,” the Admiral said. “But that would be like kicking an ant colony.” He heaved his bulk from his curule chair and accepted a speaking horn from a mariner. “I must use my golden tongue and prevent any tangling,” Nar Naccara muttered.

After he shouted ship-to-ship with the Dishon captain, Nar Naccara and Adah entered a longboat. They made the short journey between the vessels and climbed aboard the Dishon galley. The Admiral spoke at length with a burly man with two gold teeth. Adah witnessed the exchange of silver coins. Soon, the flotilla sailed with a purple-inked writ of passage, stamped with a crimson seal and bound by pink ribbons.

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