Page 3 of Over the Emerald Valley
“Nice catch, old man.”
“Shitty throw, boy,” he joked. “And don’t call me old.” Though it was true enough. He’d begun to feel his age creeping into his bones and joints. Old battle injuries flared with new pain he mostly ignored. Perhaps the straightforward mission was what he needed, even if the reality of a slow, lonely retirement was painful to face.
“If not old, then what shall I call you?”
Solon scrubbed off the dirt and grime. “‘Sir’ will do nicely.”
“Pfft.” Neku splashed him.
Solon splashed back. “Enough,” he ordered with a laugh. “Get cleaned off, the lot of you. The donkeys will be ready as soon as we are.” He dipped beneath the surface before the splashing fight escalated. Everyone seemed in good spirits, as happy as he was to be off the damned boat.
He surfaced and found Neku entirely too close and with an entirely too mischievous expression on his youthful features. Neku pounced, grabbed him around the torso, hauled him off his feet, and dunked him back under the water.
With expert skill earned from years of battle, Solon wrapped his fingers around Neku’s ankle and yanked, dragging the man under with him. Then he thrust upward for air. A hearty laugh escaped his lips.
Neku surfaced a second later, blinking and sputtering. “All right, all right. Don’t call you old. Got it.”
“Good.” Solon smiled, tossing the soap to the next man. He could still take any of these young cubs one on one, his experience besting their youthful exuberance.
For now.
He waded back to shore, rolled his stiff shoulders, then wrung his skirt out the best he could. “Time to move.”
The others followed and dressed. They made their way to the donkeys, already loaded with gear by the villagers. In good spirits, the soldiers set off on their trek toward the mountainous emerald mines.
CHAPTER2
Solon
Two grueling days later—exhausted,hungry, and even dirtier than before, but with no sea to bathe in—they arrived in Sikait.
The setting sun cast orange brilliance across the wide sky, and the heat of the day was dissipating.
Solon left his men to the business of setting up camp while he went to meet with Viceroy Abasi in the man’s enormous palace. His stomach growled louder than the flock of squawking birds overhead.
Taking the polished marble stairs two at a time, Solon hurried toward the limestone mansion that guarded the entrance to the mines. With any luck, Abasi would have a feast already waiting. The viceroy would be expecting him—a messenger had been sent in advance—and he’d be suspicious as to the nature of the visit.
Good. Solon wanted the man on his toes. Anxious men were prone to making mistakes and easier to control.
Servants nodded in deference as he traversed the hall with confident strides. Solon had donned his military attire for the initial meeting. A leather tunic with a matching pleated skirt, both too hot for this weather and ridiculous, since he wasn’t going into battle, but the look earned him a modicum of respect he’d use to his advantage.
A young woman bowed before him. “Welcome, General Solon. Would you care for a wash before your meal?”
Though a layer of dust covered his muscular forearms and veiny hands, Solon couldn’t be bothered. “A bath can wait, thank you. I’ll eat and speak with the viceroy at once.”
“This way.” She spun elegantly and led him through a great inner chamber toward what he hoped would be a magnificent meal.
The towering walls were painted in golds and blues that met in a tall arch overhead. Columns supported the massive structure—a symbol of the viceroy’s abundant riches—and larger-than-life-sized statues of the gods lined the main walkway. Osiris gazed down upon the palace’s inhabitants with dull eyes, judging their immortal souls.
Solon caught a wafting aroma of roasted meat, and his mouth watered. Whatever lay through those twin dining room doors would soon be filling his stomach.
“Here we are,” said the woman. “The viceroy awaits your honored company.”
Solon held in a scoff. “Honored company” indeed. The viceroy would sooner host a camel for dinner than a representative of Horemheb. By now, news of the pharaoh’s edict would have made it to Abasi, and he’d best comply, or he would face the consequences.
Two young men held the doors open. Solon thanked the servants with a nod as he crossed the threshold into an enormous banquet hall, the opulence of which wasn’t easy on the eyes.
Patterned marble flooring in twisting rows of white and gray gave the illusion of movement. More golden columns lined the edges of the chamber. Garish statues glowered, bright red and blue paintings climbed the plaster walls, and lanterns hung scattered from the ceiling.
