I tried to trip him up with my feet, and was about to take wolf form when Sarlice, Kestric and two other Rada-kin rushed to my defence.
Picking myself up, I realised the sword had paid a heavy price for my life. A hairline crack had formed across the blade, about a third the way down.
I squinted around at those who remained. Two Jarians fought desperately against one Zeika to my left. Another pair of Zeikas disappeared into the forest, one with two children tied to the saddle in front of him, the other holding a young woman in his arms, whispering into her ear. No! This cannot be!
Across the other side of the field was a thickly bearded Zeika on a huge palomino warhorse. His captive was tied behind him with his hands and feet stretched under the girth.
The bearded Zeika dug his spurred heels into the palomino’s sides. The horse blew its nostrils and trotted through the struggling bodies. I made three bounds and stretched out my hand to catch the palomino’s reins. The animal’s neck whipped around as my weight came onto his bridle. The overburdened horse stumbled onto its knees, dislodging its rider. A hoof stabbed into the Zeika’s torso and something inside crunched.
The horse sidestepped away from the fallen man and panicked when the Jarian slid underneath its belly. The horse bucked a few times, pummelling the Jarian’s body. He hung by broken arms, elbows bloody. I hope I didn’t cause that….
Still gripping the reins I allowed the horse a bit of slack. It sniffed me nervously before letting me move slowly toward the Jarian. With the utmost care I undid the thick leather straps around the Jarian’s wrists and lowered his body to the ground.
The Zeika got to his feet with a large battle-axe, blood dribbling from his mouth. Before I could do anything he fell forward onto me and I hit the ground again.
My chin and mouth were pressed hard into the dust. Rocks dug into my cheeks. I glanced up to see Sarlice, sword in hand. The sword was not her Tolite-kin, but she clearly knew how to use it. She crouched to help me struggle out from under the body. My nostrils burned from his rancid, sorcerous stench and my chest ached as I tried to breathe again.
‘Better stop that bleeding,’ Sarlice said.
Six blue-black gouges patterned my forearm, one bleeding profusely. I got hold of the Zeika’s green fur cloak with my good arm and cut it with the cracked Barh sword. Sarlice bound up the wound on my arm. When I saw the amount of blood on the bandage I was glad the frenzy of battle had distracted me from the pain. There was no parn immediately at hand and, even if there had been, there were others in greater need of drugs than me.
The Jarian who had been strapped to the palomino had stopped breathing. I felt a pang of guilt as a pair of Jarians attempted to give him the kiss of life. A third lady stood with her arms outstretched, calling upon the Lightmaker to intervene.
The Zeika legion had all but retreated, and Kestric was helping a few other Rada-kin chase the last Zeikas away. Bodies of charred fur and pink flesh were scattered about the village. I gazed around in shock, and caught bile in my throat before it could rise all the way. Both Cora and Paril were among the fallen. It had all happened so quickly.
Children and their carers crept out from various hiding places, spreading out among the fallen and searching for signs of life. I nursed my sore arm against my chest and searched the waves for Uola.
‘We are fine,’ the ram told me. ‘But Commander Uvolde is taking all the surviving elders to the fortress. I think they’re going to call all the survivors in there.’
‘How many are left here?’ I queried.
‘Of the four elders and the ten masters who were in Jaria, only eleven are thought to be alive.’ Uola replied. ‘Furthermore, Masters Namal, Curn, Rundo, Esra and Cyle have been captured, along with at least fifty others.’
‘Krii, no,’ I murmured.
He echoed the desperation in my comment with his emotions. ‘The prime, one elder and five masters have been slain, including Feera.’
‘So the thing with Feera was all part of this?’
The Rada-kin did not answer me.
‘What about the rest of the population? How many remain?’ I pressed.
‘Just forty or so,’ Uola said. ‘You and Sarlice are the only able-bodied warriors left. All those who aren’t needed here have been killed, badly injured or taken.’
‘Please tell Elders Bessed and Uvolde I’ll go after them,’ I requested. ‘Tiaro and I have business with those Zeikas. They’re holding our Rada-kin.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Uola asked.
‘We’ll pray to the Lightmaker that my Anzaii abilities are indeed manifesting,’ I replied.
Uola sent his agreement along with his heartfelt request to the Lightmaker to help me with my new abilities. When he turned his attention to his Rada, Tiaro and I lost his presence in the waves.
Sarlice followed me home and watched as I threw a number of essentials into my larger saddlebags. Regretfully, I left the cracked Barh sword lying on the table—it wouldn’t be much use to me anymore.
‘What are you doing?’ the Lythian Rada asked me.
‘I’m going to get our people back,’ I replied, ‘and Rekala. It’s up to me and you now.’
‘You’re not serious?’ she said. ‘I’m used to bad odds, but didn’t you see how easily they overwhelmed us on our own territory? How exactly do you plan to stage a rescue on theirs?’
‘I’m Anzaii now,’ I said. ‘This is what I was born for.’
‘Jaria needs you alive,’ Sarlice said. ‘I don’t think Prime Arone had this in mind when he told us to keep you away from Regar. How are you going to—’
‘Look, you can either come with me and find out or stay here and help with the clean-up,’ I said curtly.
Sarlice followed me out the back to the stable I shared with Bessed and Drea. Sarlice and I helped ourselves to the tack hanging on the walls nearby—within minutes both horses were saddled and ready to go. Sarlice climbed on Meeka, clearly struggling to keep her thoughts about our mission to herself. Her Rada-kin, Kestric, sent some of her thoughts directly to me, cocking his head at me when I didn’t respond.
After adding a bag of chaff to the saddlebags of each horse, I looked up at Sarlice’s face. She had a new bruise on her forehead and the cut from Regar’s ring was still weeping.
‘I barely know you,’ I said, ‘but it almost feels like we’re old friends. Thank you for helping me.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Sarlice replied, but we both knew otherwise.
Astor—Guiding Light. The plaque on the statue we passed was worn with time. It was an immense carving of green stone. A human figure stood in the centre with one arm outstretched to the heavens. The other hand clutched a long spear. At the figure’s feet was a snarling dog. Behind him was the huge coiled body of a long, slender skyearl. Vines and creepers had to be cut back regularly to keep the statue from being swallowed whole by the forest. The base of the statue was scuffed and worn away by clambering feet.
I glanced up at the clouded sky. Since leaving Jaria, around midday, Kestric had been tracking the Zeikas through the forest with the help of eleven other Rada-kin.
‘It’s going to rain,’ I commented.
Sarlice’s attention remained fixed on the broken branches ahead that swayed and scratched each other in the wind. There were four different paths the Zeikas had made to confuse trackers. Kestric trotted ahead in wolf form, sniffing out what was most likely the real path. He told Sarlice and I that there were other Rada-kin ahead of us following various trails, but none had located the Zeikas yet.
Sarlice sniffed the air and glanced up at the looming clouds.
‘I think you’re right,’ she said. ‘Do you know these lands? We might need to find shelter for the night.’
My instincts screamed at me to keep going until we found Rekala and the Jarians, but the horses were foamed and trembling. I was both famished and exhausted. It would be no state to attempt a rescue.
‘Aye,’ I replied. ‘There’s a cavern
with supplies.’
The Rada-kin would continue tracking the Zeikas. We’d be able to catch up with them in the morning.
When lightning illuminated the forest and sky, the clouds looked like an enormous ceiling high above us. Sarlice’s horse fidgeted nervously, but she held her grip with her knees and tried to calm it with soothing words. I led them to the cavern, trying not to think about what the Jarians might be suffering.
Chapter Eight—The Quarry
‘Were you a warrior in Lyth?’ I asked Sarlice.
‘In a manner,’ she replied. ‘I am… was… one of the prime’s guardians. He had me trained from a young age and liked to keep me close by.’
‘Your father?’ I asked, recalling what Ivon had told me a few weeks back.
A look of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly shrugged it off. ‘I wondered if I was his “guardian” so that he could keep a close eye on me. He doesn’t really need me.’
‘Clearly,’ I replied. ‘You’re here.’
She licked her lips pensively. ‘Mmm… let’s just say my appointment as Ambassador wasn’t among my father’s plans for my life.’
I looked at her with awe. ‘You’re Lyth’s ambassador?’
It was a worthy appointment, bestowed only upon the most trustworthy. Ambassadors went forth as spokespeople for their nation, usually in times of war, to form alliances. An ambassador was expected to travel to the courts of nobles, regents or kings and work out policies or alliances with them.
With the Rada nations of Jaria and Lyth this involved contacting their prime leader, over vast distances, to outline and agree upon the terms of a negotiation. Where possible Anzaii were chosen for this purpose because they could usually communicate directly with the prime leader’s Rada-kin or, possibly, even the prime leader. That Sarlice had been chosen indicated how skilled she was in defending herself on the open road and at communicating and negotiating, yet she was not Anzaii. It would be up to Kestric to reach all the way back to their home realm of Lyth.
‘I can still reach it from here,’ he replied to my wide-open thoughts.
He was scouting some distance away, following the path two of the other Rada-kin had taken the day before. Above him were the tops of a great variety of tall trees, their crowns forming a canopy at a height of more than one hundred feet. It may have been difficult for a foreigner to determine the time of day in the darkness of the rainforest, but I knew the cadence of Jaria forest well.
There were smaller trees beneath the canopy, and ferns with little red and gold flowers that only opened in the morning at this time of year.
A green tree snake, that would have been invisible to my eye, slid across the leaves of one of the ferns to Kestric’s right. The firetiger could also sense the movements of tiny frogs, snails and flatworms in the bushes or leaf litter around him, but he put them out of his mind. He was intent on assisting the other Rada-kin to find the most direct route for us to get to our people.
‘Folai and Kang have found the camp up further,’ he called. Both Sarlice and I were able to hear him. We shared a look of relief. ‘They’re waiting for us.’
‘How far away are Folai and Kang?’
‘Why don’t you ask them yourself?’ he replied haughtily.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. Black. Red and blue stripes behind my eyelids. Kestric. There he is. It was as if my mind had to flip-up to a new way of seeing—the focus came off what my eyes saw, and dived into the waves. Through the waves I could just make out the shape of Kestric’s body. More than just a simple blob, Kestric appeared almost like he did in the flesh, his reddish fur standing on end as he looked at me over a great distance.
‘Reach further,’ he told me patiently.
With effort I closed the distance between us by blocking out the emptiness and looked around for more signs of life. Thinking back to all the voices I had started to sense in Jaria, before the battle, I began to listen through the waves as well. In the distance was a faint murmuring, two Rada-kin having an unshielded conversation. I could almost see them, but something crowded the way between us. I reached out my hand and brushed leaves and vines aside—at least that was how I visualised it—one of the Rada-kin took shape and I nudged it gently with my thoughts.
‘A human?’ the Rada-kin queried, ‘…Anzaii… Ah, Talon.’
I could sense it was a fox in rabbit form, Folai. I had played with her in Jaria, and felt a familiar twinge as I connected with her for the first time.
‘Where are you?’ I queried.
‘We are far away. The Zeikas travelled overnight even in the rain.’
‘Is it… is that… you’re near the Catacombs of Krii, aren’t you?’ I said. ‘But why would the Zeikas go near there?’
‘They’re not right near it,’ Folai replied. ‘They’ve laid the cornerstone for a fortress a few miles away from it. Unless we act quickly, the Jarians will be branded and shackled as slaves.’
‘We’re on our way,’ I said.
Sarlice stood watching me, one saddle bag slung over her arm.
‘You really are Anzaii, aren’t you? You had that unfocused look of being deep in conversation with a Rada-kin a long way away.’
‘They’re not even in the realms of Telby or Jaria any more,’ I replied. ‘The Zeikas have started building a fortress in Naioteio.’
‘Not far from the Catacombs of Krii, yes, I know,’ she said. ‘Kestric told me.’
Kestric was already beckoning us in the right direction. We finished loading our gear onto the two weary horses and followed after him. Although we travelled swiftly, it took us all day to catch up to him.
‘The trail ends here,’ he told us. ‘We’ve been hesitant to go much further without you, Talon, in case of spirit circles.’
There were other Rada-kin hiding in the trees, including Folai and Kang, a few hundred feet east. We hid the horses in a cluster of tall trees and tied them. Continuing on foot, we accompanied Kestric through the trees, which thinned to a wispy wood, around a seemingly empty clearing.
‘Is there a spirit circle here?’ Sarlice asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I’ve never seen one before, nor do I understand exactly how they work.’
‘Infused with Zeika wards,’ Tiaro explained, ‘a spirit circle portrays ordinary ground inside it, concealing the reality. If you cross it, the demons within will tell the Zeika who created it.’
‘Look ahead of you through the waves,’ Tiaro told me, ‘and call upon Sy-tré.’
‘I’m going to try something,’ I added to Sarlice. ‘Will you watch over me?’
She drew her warbow and nocked an arrow, standing up and moving a few yards behind me. Kestric was nearby in a cluster of orange plants, utilising all his senses to keep a buffer of safety around us—no Zeika could get within fifty yards without him being aware of it.
‘Concentrate,’ Tiaro cautioned.
I wanted to do as she said, but it was like trying to see through eyes that didn’t know how. I closed my eyes and faced in the direction of the clearing. Almost immediately I was overwhelmed by the metallic stink of blood. I could see a three foot wide ring of gore scraped over the foliage and grass, right around the outside of the clearing. It hadn’t been detectable to my natural senses, but in the waves the smell was overpowering. What number of humans or animals had been sacrificed to make it? I daren’t imagine. Their screams flashed at me from the spirit circle, almost as if the demons there revelled in the memory of their suffering.
I strained to see where the severe laughter was coming from, eventually becoming aware of the presence of hundreds of dark green and grey imps. Their cackling reverberated through the waves as they played on the spirit circle, throwing lumps of sinew and flesh at each other. My gorge rose and I blinked back tears, trying to deny the terror and disgust I felt from overwhelming me.
‘Quick, before they see you and alert their master,’ Tiaro cried. ‘Banish them.’
‘How can I—?’
‘You must summon Sy-tré.’
I remembered the chant of my people, the prayer for our herald, the wolf, to come to our aid.
‘Come, Sy-tré,’ I called, ‘kindred of Krii. Refresh the hearts of the faithful with your wolfsong. Let the marks of your paws lead the way for your pack. Light the shadows with the flash of your eyes, and drive back the darkness. Bite through the snare that assails us. Rake your claws through the belly of the mountain, and set loose wonder upon the world.’
A slight breeze rustled through the waves, blowing softly at first, then with more force. The demons were shaken to the ground and the cackling ceased. Grasping onto entrails and hair they clung to the spirit circle, unable to speak or reach out to their Zeika master because of the rushing wind.
‘Sy-tré stands with me,’ I wave-shouted. ‘By the power of Krii, be gone!’
The winds grew stronger and I could hear Sy-tré’s howls upon them. With one final blast, the immense furred wolf himself appeared out of the rushing wind behind me, and swept around the entire spirit circle. The east end of it was so far away I wouldn’t have been able to see it with my natural eyes, but in the waves my perspective was no longer limited by the position of a human body. I could float higher, see further and close distances my human eyes would never have been able to penetrate. I blinked in wonder at the scene beneath me, which was now completely clear of blood and gore, revealing the Zeika construction site and their camp.
‘That’s it, you did it,’ Sarlice whispered, patting my shoulder from behind.
‘Not I,’ I replied, coming back to reality. ‘Sy-tré came.’
‘Praise the Lightmaker,’ Sarlice said.
Sarlice and I looked out over the clearing—large burgundy tents were positioned in a lazy circle around a huge green pavilion. Firelight within caused many shadows to play over the material. The figures inside lifted strange objects to the sky in some kind of offering. A tingling sensation of foreboding crept up my spine.
Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) Page 11
