Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1)

by Greenslade, Amanda

  Before she could state the unimaginable yet inescapable conclusion—that my seed was going to be Denliyan’s ticket to supreme rule—I demanded angrily, ‘What are the other Zeikas doing?’

  ‘Coming your way,’ she replied. ‘I managed to release Duria during the night. She and I will overtake the Zeikas tonight and rejoin you in seven or eight days time.’

  ‘Very well, Rada-kin, but just make sure you stop to eat something. Your hunger is like a living fire.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Keep safe.’

  ‘Lightmaker guide you.’

  Fleetfoot seemed relieved when the town of Ubu came into view. His swishing tail and fidgeting skin became calm. Sarlice leaned heavily against my chest. I stroked her forehead and cheeks to awaken her. She climbed down weakly from Kestric’s back as we arrived at the stables of a large, well-kept tavern. An A-frame signboard sat alongside the pathway to the main entrance with the words ‘Ubu Adventurer’s Inn’.

  The pathway into town was cobbled with brown stones that I presumed had been dug from the surrounding countryside centuries ago. Countless trees stood tall in clay pots along the streets. Shops and buildings were made of wood and stone. Curling metal awnings formed intricate patterns and sparkled in the morning light.

  We rested against a yard-rail until a young stableboy came out to take Fleetfoot.

  ‘Thanks boy,’ I said. ‘We need a healer. Do you think you can fetch one for us?’

  He stared at our blood-stained clothing and travel-weary appearance with wide eyes. ‘It looks more like you need the bath-house.’

  From our right, a booming voice scolded the boy. ‘That’s no way to talk to our patrons, Kalemp.’

  ‘Yessir.’ He scurried away with Fleetfoot.

  ‘I’m Malochar, the owner of this tavern,’ the man said taking my proffered hand and shaking it.

  He eyed the prowling firetiger behind us with genuine respect. ‘You two look like you’ve seen some trouble recently.’

  ‘Aye,’ I replied. ‘Can you arrange for a healer and a tailor to visit us today?’

  Malochar glanced around carefully. ‘Aye, of course. Do come in.’

  I helped Sarlice hobble into the inn and Malochar carried our dusty packs to one of his spare rooms. Once inside I helped Sarlice to lie on the bed and dug the ivory tusk out of my pack.

  ‘If I give it to you, will you take care of all our supplies for a week?’ I asked.

  Malochar fingered the ivory and sighed. ‘It won’t leave much of a profit for my time.’

  ‘I understand,’ I said. ‘If we tether our horse on grass during the day he won’t need grain….’

  He clapped me on the back. ‘Naw… I won’t do that to the poor bugger. He looks like he needs a bit of good tucker in ’im—so do all of you for that matter. I’ll even feed that ravenous beast of yours. Which one of you is the Rada?’

  ‘We both are, sir,’ I replied. ‘My Rada-kin is a week behind us. But I cannot ask for your charity….’

  ‘It’s not charity, my boy,’ Malochar guffawed. ‘Consider it a favour in return for reciting some tales from your adventure.’

  I smiled uncomfortably, knowing there were certain things I just couldn’t share. There were some stories, however, that I would be glad to tell. Bessed’s Rada-kin, Uola, had instructed me to make Jaria’s plight known to other believers. What better way than by turning it into a ballad to be recited in the taverns?

  ‘I may need a day or two to recover from our ordeal and prepare,’ I said.

  ‘Very well,’ he replied.

  Around midday a healer arrived from the local apothecary.

  The bent old man shuffled into our room, took one look at Sarlice’s sutured wound and declared, ‘There’s nothing more I can do for her.’

  I followed him out, all but grabbing him by the shoulders. ‘Trees, man, do you have to be so brash? Are you saying there’s no hope?’

  The healer turned his beady eyes upon me. ‘Is that your handiwork in there?’

  I ran my fingers through my hair and couldn’t meet his eye. ‘I did my best, sir, merely copying what I’d seen real healers do in Jaria—’

  ‘Then I’d say you’re a fine learner—Sir…?’

  ‘Talon,’ I replied.

  He put both hands on my shoulders, squeezing the muscles as if testing me. ‘Yes, Sir Talon, now if you have a mind to become a healer you might drop by the apothecary some time—’

  ‘Is she going to be well?’

  ‘The wound looks good enough. Your suture is a little rough, but it will do. Pull the stitches out carefully in another week or sooner if you’re sure the wound will hold.’

  I celebrated inside. ‘Can I give her something for the pain?’

  ‘Parn, an opium tincture,’ he replied, ‘for three silvers a bottle.’

  ‘That’s outrageous.’

  ‘That’s medicine.’

  ‘Very well, sir. Furnish us with two bottles for five silvers and six bronze. Malochar is looking after our expenses.’

  I returned to Sarlice’s side, knelt down and squeezed her hand.

  ‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘The wound’s rotted, hasn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know if you’ll make it,’ I said with a deadpan expression. ‘Any last requests?’

  ‘How can you make jokes at a time like this?’ she demanded.

  ‘Because,’ I replied, unable to hide my joy, ‘the wounds are healing well. You’re going to be hale in no time!’

  ‘Thank the Lightmaker,’ Sarlice said, shoving me over with her good arm.

  I landed on my behind, laughing with relief. Sarlice is going to be fine.

  ‘You’re a man with many talents, Talon,’ said my guide, ‘but comedy isn’t one of them.’

  Over the following week, Malochar generously provided us with everything we needed. I took an instant liking to Ubu, a town with Kriite foundations. The patrons in the common room were glad to hear of my adventures with the Zeikas. They had an appetite for information about Jaria and the Rada-kin. Even without Malochar’s supplies I would have eaten well each night.

  As a result of sharing the tale of Jaria’s recent battle with the Zeikas word spread around town that we had generous trade agreements on offer to any who would send warriors to serve there. A guild of merchants and mercenaries who had banded together three years ago took us up on our offer. They pledged two dozen warriors for six months in return for goods and an exclusive right to trade Jaria’s beef in Ubu.

  The papers were signed in the presence of an officer from the Ubu guard and I contacted Uola in Jaria to inform him of our success. I was pleasantly surprised to find I could now reach that far in the waves without Rekala or Kestric to help me.

  ‘How do you and the others fare?’ Uola asked when we were done with the trade negotiation.

  ‘We are plagued by Zeikas,’ I replied. ‘A traveller we had with us since the desert turned out to be in league with them.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ the ram exclaimed. I sensed that he and Bessed were conversing, although I could not hear my foster father through the waves.

  ‘It gets worse,’ I added. ‘I am now certain of the identity of the traveller. Her name is not Lira and she is not the sole-surviving heir of the Demaeda family. She is actually the Princess Denliyan of Telby.’

  There was silence on the waves for a minute as Uola and Bessed digested the information.

  ‘We’ve heard the princess is heavily involved in the political scene in Telby,’ Uola replied, his wave filled with trepidation. ‘What did she want with you and Sarlice?’

  I hesitated before answering, holding back the knowledge in my mind that would shame me.

  ‘It’s vital that Bessed knows what’s going on,’ Rekala counselled me privately.

  ‘Aye,’ I sent with a sigh.

  ‘Do you recall my father’s letter?’ I asked, inferring that Uola pass the question on to Bessed.

  ‘We have a copy of it here some
where,’ the ram said. ‘What has it to do with this?’

  ‘On it, there was a genealogy of some kind,’ I explained. ‘My mother’s line, back through single sets of ancestors. Each one had at least one name underlined.’

  ‘Namal studied it for a time,’ Uola said, ‘but because your mother wasn’t Jarian, we didn’t have much to compare it to.’

  ‘Well there has to be something to it,’ I replied, building up the courage to reveal my terrible secret. ‘Lira and I were alone in the forest one day and she drugged me and stole seed from me.’

  ‘Trees!’

  ‘There’s more,’ I said, cutting off the stream of negative thoughts that came from him. ‘When Sarlice and I were in Telby Palace, we saw Lir—Denliyan’s husband, the Prince Joram, and he looked a little bit like me.’

  ‘She’s married,’ Uola stated, his disgust apparent. ‘What need has she of another man’s seed?’

  ‘What if the princess and prince could not conceive?’ I responded. ‘With no heir of her own, Denliyan’s place on the throne would be insecure if her father were to pass away. Perhaps she went to Bal Harar for help—’

  ‘What’s that got to do with the genealogy then?’

  ‘Perhaps he saw a way to combine two goals in a single scheme.’

  ‘What scheme?’

  ‘They tried to capture me near Tez,’ I rambled, thinking it through even more now that I was sharing my jumbled thoughts with others. ‘And why me? Princess Denliyan wanted an heir to the throne who would at least pass as Prince Joram’s child. He and I look alike—who knows—with Bal Harar involved we might even be related. And Bal Harar himself wants me in Reltland, that much is clear. The Zeikas who caught me even before I became Anzaii knew what I looked like, knew about my scar….’

  ‘You’re right,’ Uola said, passing on Bessed’s rapt attention and agreement as well. ‘Bessed has his copy of the letter here and he says that your mother’s name is underlined. What if those underlined names were all Anzaii?’

  ‘It would mean Bal Harar has been tracking Kriite genealogies for centuries and this is one he has focused on in recent years.’

  ‘He’s trying to breed an Anzaii into the royal line of Telby? That would seem counterproductive to say the least!’

  ‘He wanted me,’ I replied, ‘for something to do with using my abilities.’

  ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘But that Wavekeeper who murdered Feera said it.’

  ‘But the child—if there is one,’ Uola began, ‘could be our salvation… Why would the Zeikas bring that upon themselves? Imagine a Kriite Anzaii—better still, an Astor—on the throne of Telby!’

  ‘Perhaps the Bal thinks he can control the heir or do away with it any time he likes. He probably knows that bloodline or no, without the power of Sy-tré, the gifts remain dormant.’

  ‘Our ability to communicate across vast distances has always given us an advantage over the Zeikas,’ Uola said.

  ‘If we are fortunate, they will give up on me now. I may be only one of many gifted Kriites the Bal is trying to catch.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Uola said, ‘but we haven’t heard about anything like this till now. The Anzaii gift, especially, is not common and those who do have it are often limited in their power.’

  It sounded like he had high hopes for me. ‘Let us hope Tiaro and I can develop our skills in time to defend ourselves.’

  ‘Indeed. If Bal Harar’s minions keep failing to catch you, he will come for you himself. May the Lightmaker guide you, Talon. We will keep you in our prayers.’

  On our sixth evening in Ubu, Sarlice was asleep by the time I made it back with her dinner. I unrolled my rug and placed it on the floor beside her. I lay there for a while staring at the blemishes on the ceiling. I thought of all the things I had said to Lira, all the looks she’d given me and the thrills it had sent through my body. Had it all been false? Did she not care for me at all?

  Unable to sleep I retrieved a quill pen, ink pot and vellum from my pack. After lighting a single candle, I wrote a letter to Lira:

  To her Royal Highness, Princess Denliyan,

  I congratulate you on your accomplishments in Tass-Sarm and Telby recently. Your commitment to the Demaeda family is commendable. With Zeikas on the rise in Telby the power of your nation grows and, along with it, the risks to your succession. I can see why you might consider desperate measures to secure your place as your father’s heir. What you have taken from me, if it bears fruit, should be called “Rade”, stolen.

  Did you know you have to raise a child in Kriite ways if you want it to present Kriite gifts? Proximity to Zeika sorcery seems to play a part in the development of Anzaii abilities, too. I should know. They haven’t stopped chasing me since I found out I was Anzaii. Don’t be fooled into doing the Zeikas’ bidding. The Lira I thought I knew would not be so malleable.

  Sincerely,

  T

  When morning came I felt like I had barely slept. I pulled myself up, pocketed the letter I had written, stretched and padded to the window.

  I gazed thoughtfully at Sarlice’s sleeping form. What she and Kestric had said about being called to my side by Sy-tré, gave me shivers. What had I been thinking, getting so involved with Lira? This wasn’t my time—we were on a mission of great importance.

  Sarlice opened her eyes and pushed herself up. Though she still looked groggy and worn it seemed like the worst was behind her. I assisted her to walk downstairs for breakfast. I hurried through the meal, sensing the proximity of my beloved Rada-kin.

  Outside I squinted in the morning light. Duria was standing in the same stall as Fleetfoot with a Zeika saddle on her back. Not far away lurked a large grey-blue icetiger, cleaning herself and exuding self-importance.

  ‘Rekala!’ I shouted, helping Sarlice over to the stall fence so I could greet my Rada-kin.

  The great cat chuffed at me and rubbed her head against my leg. I crouched to throw my arms around her. Her fur came off in clumps, dull and grey from lack of rest and good food.

  ‘My Talon, my Talon.’ She chuffed, hooking one paw around my calf muscle as if she could hold me in place forever.

  ‘I missed you,’ I said. Being able to converse long-distance on the waves did not compare with seeing my Rada-kin in the flesh.

  ‘And I, you,’ she replied. ‘We haven’t been apart this long since I was captured by the Zeikas.’

  ‘Nor shall we again,’ I hoped.

  ‘Welcome back, Rekala,’ Sarlice called out.

  My Rada-kin and I made our way over to Sarlice’s side. The icetiger chuffed at Sarlice and sniffed her injured shoulder when she crouched down to scratch under Rekala’s chin. Kestric also came to greet my Rada-kin, rubbing the underside of his chin against her furry cheek.

  ‘The Zeikas won’t be far behind,’ I commented. ‘The way I see it we can either make a stand here or press on.’

  ‘Now that we have two horses, we should continue our journey,’ Sarlice said. ‘There’s no reason to put the people of Ubu at risk.’

  I reached out and touched her injured shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re ready to go on?’

  She flexed her neck and shoulder muscles. ‘I’m still a little stiff, but the best thing to do now is get moving.’

  She looked into my eyes. ‘Thank you for everything you did for me. I know it must have been hard to abandon Lira like that.’

  I shook my head sharply. ‘We both know she’s a traitor.’

  ‘Yes… well I’m glad you were willing to face that. I was worried for a while there that she had you under her spell.’

  ‘She did, and I’m afraid I don’t know why.’

  ‘She’s a beautiful, intelligent young woman,’ Sarlice said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘And you are a hearty young man.’

  ‘I’m a fool,’ I said. ‘I jeopardised our mission and our lives. I brought this injury upon you.’

  ‘No you didn’t,’ she argued. ‘Kestric and I kn
ew when we joined with you that it would be perilous. The Bal of Reltland himself is after you, for trees’ sake. It’s hope that keeps us going—hope and faith in the Lightmaker. Not one of us is perfect, but he can still work through us. We have only to not give up.’

  I turned away, humbled by her grace and conviction. She put her hand on my shoulder and walked beside me back towards the tavern.

  ‘I’m still concerned about one thing,’ I said. ‘With my knowledge of what happened won’t she try to ensure I am silenced?’

  ‘But how would she know that you know? You have no memory of being violated. There’s only the vision of the princess from Rekala’s memory and the clues you put together.’

  ‘The fact that I’m not chasing after them might give her the idea,’ I replied.

  ‘But she could never be sure, so perhaps she’ll leave you be.’

  I held up the letter I had written. ‘Princess Denliyan will know I’m aware of what she did, but don’t worry. I’ll send it by carriage so it takes a few weeks to reach her.’

  ‘Why send it at all?’

  ‘Because I need to tell her some things.’

  ‘For the sake of your pride?’

  ‘Nay, for the sake of my child.’

  Chapter Eighteen—Strength and Weakness

  Malochar sent us off with our bellies and our saddlebags full. It was a bright morning full of promise and a stiff westerly breeze.

  Two days after leaving Ubu, Sarlice had recovered much of her former zest. There was still plenty of light in the sky when we decided to stop and make camp. We both dismounted and tethered the horses near the water’s edge. Rekala and Kestric splashed into the river to cool off while I kept watch for enemies.

  Later, when it was my turn for a rest, the two cats walked silently through the grass, circling our camp. Sarlice was busy oiling her Zeika saddle and discovering the intricate depths of its flaps and pockets.