The Tree of Life (Lost Civilizations: 3) Read Free Page A

the estate families be so short-sighted?”
    “First,” said Lord Uriah, “not all merchant-princes or all the estate families have gone to Shamgar. It’s the most ambitious who have gone to Gog. And, I suppose, the most ruthless. The First Born fuels a person’s hopes, magnifying them, showing the ambitious how high they can go. In time, when passion, greed and ruthlessness have overcome all wisdom, then Gog wields them to his advantage.”
    “Will you still be able to recruit an army there?”
    Lord Uriah appeared pensive. “Nar Naccara says Pildash is entirely in Gog’s grip. Dishon totters, but there are still men like Captain Graz. Carthalo, a League City and once home to Arioch the Archangel, is another matter. Gog’s schemes chew away at the people’s resolve like termites in a home. Who knows how strong the inner strength is? Only a furious storm will give it the true test. But if in the storm the home collapses...or the city....”
    “By then it’s too late,” said Adah.
    Lord Uriah drained his mug.
    “What do you propose?” Adah asked.
    “That we regain our strength and recruit tough mercenaries. It’s a gamble, but at this point, speed is almost as important as warriors are.”
    “…We must also take baths,” Adah said.
    Lord Uriah glanced at her and laughed as some of the tension eased from his face.
    “And sleep late and eat our fill,” he added.
    Adah stared out to sea. Sleeping, eating and bathing…it all seemed empty now without Joash. She frowned, and she asked, “Do you think there’s a chance any of the others have survived?”
    “It would be good if some have survived.” Lord Uriah sipped from his mug, becoming thoughtful. “But we can’t know if anyone has. We shoulder the entire burden now. It’s up to us to stop Tarag.”
    Adah bit her lower lip. This wasn’t the time to become weak. This was just like Poseidonis, in the jungle when the Gibborim hunted. One needed to stay strong no matter how many the enemy slew. One needed to keep fighting.
    “I’ll need new poison,” she said. “Last time, my arrows had no effect on the First Born.”
    “Poison, guile, gold and arms,” said Lord Uriah. “Whatever it takes, we must stop Tarag before he reaches Eden.”
    ***
    Toward nightfall, Nar Naccara’s flotilla joined a convoy of grain ships from Dishon. They were huge vessels, as large as the Tiras had been before Nidhogg sank it, but the Further Tarsh vessel had been more beautiful, and taller. These tubs were made for short trips between city-states. They wallowed under mountains of grain-sacks and the sails strained to move them. Watching them ride so low in the water made Adah think about Captain Maharbal. He had been able to make the majestic Tiras with its tall stern castle heel like an obedient hound, and race like a chariot horse.
    It sickened Adah to think of the booming captain floating face-first in the sea, or worse, as meat for sharks. How many others would die? Lod had gone to Shamgar. Lod had also saved her from a wretched fate in Poseidonis, the once lovely jewel of the gleaming ocean. Yorgash a First Born had invaded the Isle of Poseidonis together with his children the Gibborim. Now smoke chugged from the furnaces as Yorgash fed souls to further some infernal plot. The First Born had turned the capital of Atlas into a strange city of monumental ziggurats, pyramids and plinths, while hordes of slaves had razed the forests to feed the raging fires. Hers had been the last free people of Poseidonis, a remnant that had lived like rats in the barrens. Then, the Gibborim had taken to hunting the remnant, hunting with sliths—pterodactyls—and with yipping cave hyenas and sometimes with giant weasels that were as big as hounds.
    Adah shuddered. Lod was likely dead. Joash, Herrek and Captain Maharbal were also likely dead.
    She struck a sour chord as she plucked the strings of her lyre. Sitting cross-legged near the stern, she’d been attempting to compose a song,