Tanza

by Amanda Greenslade

  ‘That doesn’t make my falling for her betrayal any less embarrassing,’ I replied. ‘It only adds to the reasons why we should never have considered changing the order of our visits to allies in the first place.’

  ‘All is well now,’ Rekala said, sensing my distress. ‘We are on track to get help for Jaria and Lyth.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I replied. ‘But waiting in Lantaid to see if a skyearl will claim me seems like a waste of time. The longer Sarlice and I take to find allies, the less chance Jaria and Lyth will have.’

  ‘We’re also here to find out if you are a Sleffion,’ Rekala reminded me.

  ‘I can’t be,’ I argued. ‘I’ve already been given so much. I have the two of you and now this sword. I hadn’t even got used to being a Rada when you came along, Tiaro, and it’s the same with the sword. Things are moving so quickly for me, and yet they drag for my people back in Jaria.’

  ‘You are being propelled forward to your destiny,’ Tiaro declared. ‘If anything, I’d say the appearance of this Tolite-kin of yours is proof you are going to be an Astor.’

  ‘But an Astor hasn’t been seen for years,’ I protested, frightened of the prospect of having yet another magical gift to learn. ‘Me? Anzaii, Sleffion, Tolite and Rada? It’s too much for one person.’

  ‘I hope you don’t find us that much of a burden,’ Rekala sulked.

  I glanced over at her—she looked dark grey in the stormy morning atmosphere.

  ‘You are not,’ I replied, ‘but a skyearl and all the cultures of this place to learn along with it? That would be too much.’

  ‘Just think how much a skyearl could help you on your quest,’ Tiaro argued. ‘If you get a big enough one, you’ll be able to fly! Imagine how much time that will save for the return trip.’

  ‘You’re right, Tiaro,’ I said, ‘but I’m concerned the time we’d save would be negated by the bonding and training that will be necessary beforehand. If the Tanzan king isn’t willing to help Jaria and Lyth, the sooner we find out and get out of here, the better.’

  ‘But if Watercrag has indeed fallen, what other Kriite allies does that leave us?’ Rekala asked—and I had no answer.

  Instead I called out to Tivac. ‘Does the king of Tanza live in Lantaid?’

  ‘Nay,’ he said, allowing me to ride Fleetfoot abreast of his horse. ‘The king rules from Centan, the capital.’

  He wiped a hand through receding, grey hair. ‘The people you will meet in Lantaid are mostly from Watercrag.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Sarlice exclaimed. ‘It was the only explanation for Talon’s new Tolite-kin.’

  ‘I’m grateful, but I am not certain I deserve such a fine weapon.’

  ‘There will be people in Lantaid to help you,’ Tivac said. ‘It has been only three and a half weeks since they came, but one of the first things they did was establish a bonding charm in the barrier shield. They call it the Curtains of Battle.’

  ‘Has it been difficult to integrate the two cultures?’ Sarlice asked. ‘My understanding is that Tolites are almost as ancient as Sleffions.’

  He waved his hand. ‘Oh, it’s just what you would expect. They have lost their Caverns of Forging. There was some contention about combining the magic of the Tolites with the Tanzan Barrier, but it is done.’ He looked at Sarlice. ‘Did your passage through the barrier leave you with a weapon-kin as well?’

  ‘No. I travelled to Nooneagle years ago for mine.’ She gestured at the sleek warbow on her back.

  ‘That’s interesting,’ Tivac replied. ‘Maybe you’ll know somebody in Lantaid who is from Watercrag.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said quietly. ‘Talon is Anzaii as well. If he takes on the rank of Sleffion as well as Tolite, that will make him A.S.T.R.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Tivac said, looking at me more closely. ‘Astor is an important rank—we have not had one for a long time.’

  ‘Although I grew up in Jaria, I am a new Rada,’ I said, ‘and an even newer Anzaii—’

  ‘There are a few Anzaii here,’ he jumped in enthusiastically, ‘but none of them can reach far in the waves. Flight squads are occasionally sent into the Kiayr Range to see if the Anzaii can get word from our departed brethren, but the snowy heights only bring the bleakest silence.’

  ‘Departed brethren?’

  ‘Aye. Oh, there’s so much for you to learn of our history. Many years ago a large number of our people journeyed across the Kiayr Range in search of the Cauldron of Storms, a place of great power similar to that of our Barrier Shield. It is mentioned in the holy scrolls. The chain of heralds lost contact with them during a massive snowstorm and we haven’t heard from them since. Many fear they perished, but the king holds hope. He will ask you to search the waves for them once you are able to wave-speak the minds of skyearls. How far can you reach?’

  ‘I can still reach Jaria,’ I replied, ‘for short bursts.’

  He seemed surprised. ‘That is good news.’

  ‘But that’s with Rada-kin. Sleffion-kin might be very different.’

  ‘You are at the beginning of your learning,’ Tivac said. ‘There is hope.’

  ‘What if I don’t become a Sleffion myself? Will my Anzaii abilities on the waves still extend to other people’s Sleffion-kin?’

  ‘I believe it has happened before, but not within living memory.’

  We rode in silence for a time.

  ‘Tivac, I have a great aunt somewhere here in Tanza named Jaalta. Any idea where I might find her?’

  Tivac craned his neck back and cast his eyes to the sky. ‘I’ve heard of a Rialta somewhere in the Sunbark Cities, but no Jaalta. There are tens of thousands of people in Tanza, Talon. Perhaps if you ask around in the capital, someone will have heard of her.’

  Our conversation slowed when we realised we’d have to move faster to avoid the coming storm. We travelled at a steady trot for a good half hour before reaching Lantaid.

  The gates of Lantaid were purely ornamental: four coloured pillars on each side of the sand-gravel pathway. Further down the lane was a large water-sculpture: a central water fountain with wiggly arms out to other fountains. I couldn’t make out the exact shapes in the gathering darkness.

  Tivac aimed his horse for a large building at the far end of the fountain. Just as the stables came into view, the storm crashed down. An aging stablemaster came out of his quarters at the front of the stables and ushered us inside. The stablemaster moved all three horses into their stalls before untacking them.

  Rekala and Kestric burrowed into the straw at one end of the stable and fell asleep. Sarlice and I both yawned in response and then grinned at each other.

  Tivac lead us through the stable and out the back door to what he called the Hall of Hallows. His explanation of its function went only partially through my mind. In short, the Hall of Hallows served as a sanctum for worship and a hall for public announcements and meetings.

  Most of the wall sconces had been doused for the night so Tivac lit a lamp to lead us through an enormous chamber. I felt relieved that there was no welcoming party or formalities. All I wanted was a quick meal and a long, comfortable sleep.

  My unspoken request was granted when Tivac opened the door to a brightly lit guest room. An elegant lady with long, grey hair stood in the centre of the room near a table of food. Tivac patted her hand as he entered.

  ‘Welcome to Lantaid,’ the lady said. ‘I am Glane.’

  Sarlice and I both performed the fellowship greeting again. Glane smiled and returned the gesture. She pointed out our separate quarters at either end of the living space. I couldn’t bring myself to ask how they knew Sarlice and I weren’t partners, but I presumed the Rada-kin had something to do with it.

  Tivac looked ready to sit down with us and ask more questions, but with all the grace of the experienced hostess, Glane shepherded him out, leaving us to our meal.

  I put down my packs and bent to brush grass off my pants. Rainwater was dripping from my long-sleeved tie-neck shirt onto the brown slate flo
or so I carefully pulled it off and hung it over a rack by the fire. I was aware of Sarlice noticing the warm light shining on my damp, dark skin.

  ‘Do you mind?’ I asked Sarlice. ‘This isn’t exactly formal dinner attire.’

  She laughed. ‘I should think you know me well enough by now not to ask that.’

  I concentrated on her for a minute, trying to see if there was any way I could discern what she was really thinking. What had the emotions Kestric passed to me earlier really meant? Was Sarlice attracted to me or was she only fond of me in a brotherly way? My heart sank as I realised the thought of being with a younger man might be abhorrent to her. I berated myself for letting my thoughts turn to physical things when I had so recently been led astray. I turned my back on the Lythian ambassador, slouched and hooked one thumb into the Jarian belt I was wearing.

  A glass-covered window revealed the storm outside where lightning streaked across the sky above a rain-lashed river. Despite my self-recrimination, I continued brooding over Sarlice, wishing there was some way I could tell if we had a romantic future together. I decided that even if I had to wait until all the drama with the Zeikas was over, it would be worth it.

  Illustrating how tired and foolish I was, forbidden shapes appeared in the rushing river outside—I saw myself with no shirt on reach out to an unseen woman, pull her towards me and kiss her passionately. A well of warmth rose up from the soles of my feet and I stepped back, raising my hands in surprise, but the vision vanished.

  When I turned back around, Sarlice was seated at the table looking at me curiously.

  ‘Are you coming to eat?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye.’

  She waited for me to join her before saying a quick thanks to Krii for seeing us safely into Tanza.

  It was the finest meal I’d had for a long time and I made a mental note to introduce myself to the cook. A roasted chicken dominated one end of the table, surrounded by clay pots of lukewarm potatoes, boiled vegetables and herb syrup. A covered dish in the centre revealed the full body of a Lowry fish stuffed with fresh nyno eggs and lemon slices.

  I filled my belly fast, barely leaving room for spicy hot rolls of lamb, turnip and squash in plum gravy. It was a hearty meal with obvious thought given to the fact that we were wild Rada—who were thought to indulge the carnivorous nature of their animal selves more than city Rada. When all the eating was done and we were able to retire to our beds, I fell asleep dreaming of Sarlice.

  Chapter Two—Our People

  Rekala pushed the door open and nudged me awake.

  ‘You are oversleeping, Talon.’

  ‘I could say the same to you on many occasions,’ I grumbled, not rousing from my pillow and blankets.

  ‘There’s no such thing as oversleeping for tigers,’ she retorted.

  ‘Hmmpf.’

  My back ached. It was unlike me to sleep in. After years of working for Bessed, with many a night spent outdoors, I was accustomed to rising with the dawn. I had also trained myself to awaken at the slightest sound out of place, but this room was quiet.

  A small fire had burned itself out during the night and gave off a faint smoky odour. A rich green rug covered the flagstones on the floor and fresh clothes and a washbowl sat ready on a small, rubywood table.

  Rekala stopped nudging me suddenly and sat bolt upright. The stink of fear rose from her like a cloud. I sensed the screaming of voices in the waves far away, calling desperately for help.

  ‘Anzaii, oh Anzaii where are you?’

  ‘Here I am.’ I replied, coming fully awake in my panic.

  It was Uola the ram. Despite the fatigue of age, he had fought bravely in battle. Now he lay wounded by the ruins of a Jarian warcamp.

  ‘It cannot be!’ I cried out.

  ‘We tried reaching you,’ Uola sobbed, ‘but it was as if you were dead. Now it’s too late for your mission.’

  ‘It must have been just when I stepped through the barrier,’ I replied desperately, ‘blocking the waves.’

  ‘Bessed and Drea have been captured,’ Uola said. ‘Many of the warriors and leaders are slain. The surviving citizens of able body have been taken, as before.’

  ‘Zeikas…’ I snarled out loud and through the waves. ‘What about the children and their carers?’ I asked, desperate with worry. My heart filled with sick dread at the thought of what the Zeikas might have done to them after killing those who protected them.

  ‘We dug an escape tunnel underground after you left,’ Uola replied. Relief washed through me. ‘It led all the way to a grotto under the mountains that is said to join up with the Catacombs of Krii. They are safe, for now.’

  ‘What of Jaria?’ Rekala asked anxiously.

  I sensed that Uola could no longer hold up his head. His muzzle rested in the mud, his body dragging his mind down towards oblivion. He allowed us to see his last memory of Jaria: the village was scorched black, with buildings and huts in a tumbled mess. Some had turned to ashes completely in the fires that ravaged my home town. The trees nearby were scorched and dead. My heart wept for Jaria’s losses.

  ‘Are there any other Jarians still free?’ I asked.

  Uola’s mind was slipping from the waves and I feared it wouldn’t be long before he was unconscious or dead.

  ‘Some,’ Uola said with strain. ‘Most of the Rada-kin are slain, but some fled into the forest with Namal and a few other adults to lead the Zeikas away from the tunnel the children escaped into.’

  ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘Tyraks…’ the ram sent. ‘Hundreds of them.’

  He offered his most recent memories to me, which I pulled desperately into my mind. I ‘saw’ the events of the battle not as a vision, but as I normally perceived someone else’s memories—the knowledge of how things had smelled, sounded, looked and felt as well as the meaning behind every detail.

  To the old Rada-kin, it had been an ordinary day, with Jarians going about their business and visitors from other nations shopping or peddling their wares at the market. Uola was with Bessed strolling about the village, checking on the people’s wellbeing. It had been about two months since the Zeikas’ last attack and all of the citizens were still grieving, but village life had a way of staying on track. The people of Jaria pulled themselves together for the sake of others.

  Bessed had increased the number of warriors on patrol around the village beyond the lookout towers, but nothing could have provided warning of an attack from above. One minute, Uola was gnawing a wooden post while Bessed chatted amiably with a farrier, the next, there were tyraks descending through the clouds spewing green fire across the village. The wooden buildings lit up immediately—including my own house—followed by the piles of wood, straw and barrels of goods around the village. Archers started firing from the battlements of Jaria’s fortress, but there simply were not enough of them to cause any real grief to the tyraks.

  Mounted on the backs of the dragons were Zeikas, concentrating hard on controlling their conjurations. Realising they were unable to fight so many airborne foes, Bessed and Uola spread the word for everyone to take shelter in their designated places, some to the fortress, some into the forest, some into the tunnel.

  The battle at the fortress went on for hours, with the Zeikas eventually surrounding it on their tyraks and flaming it from a hundred directions. The stones became so hot that some exploded. Even on the inside walls of the fortress, the heat was intense, causing flames to catch on the wall tapestries and reeds on the floor.

  From his fallen position outside, Uola saw Bessed and Drea emerge from the smoking fortress minutes before all the people inside would have choked to death. With their heads bowed and their arms uplifted they surrendered Jaria and were taken captive.

  ‘Where are Bessed and Drea now?’ I asked.

  ‘T… Telby. Bessed asked me to tell you that you are released from your quest to find allies for us.’

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that my foster father was still thinking of me, right up ti
ll the moment of his capture. He had, of course, been warded by the Zeikas soon after and could no longer communicate with his injured Rada-kin.

  I cursed out loud. The mercenaries I had dispatched from Ubu probably hadn’t even reached Jaria yet. The trade agreement wouldn’t do them any good now.

  ‘What am I to do now?’ I shouted. Everything I’d worked for was slipping through my fingers. My other reason for being here in Tanza—to find out if I was a Sleffion—seemed pointless now. If my gift wasn’t to serve Jaria, what was it for?

  ‘You serve Krii,’ Uola corrected me. ‘It may be time for you to realise that.’

  With those final, serious words the ram’s presence faded and was gone. As I keened aloud in sorrow, Sarlice came running in, demanding to know what was wrong. Although I tried to fight them, sobs wracked my body.

  ‘Jaria is destroyed,’ I choked out. ‘We took too long!’

  She stroked my back and Rekala put one large paw up on my knee, but neither gave me comfort. A fire sparked within in me that Rekala sensed and echoed. A long growl-whine escaped her throat. She and Sarlice drew back as I got to my feet.

  Feeling the urge for violence boil up inside me, I pulled open the door slowly, aware of every texture in the wood—every fibre screamed at me ‘You failed!’ I slammed it back, blurred down into wolf form and ran through the stronghold, not caring about the people I startled.

  I ran out into the bright, clean day and hated it. All around me were happy Kriites, going about their business. What did they care that their brothers and sisters in faith were being murdered and driven to slavery back in Jaria? The people of Lantaid went casually about their business: gardening, stripping hides, forging weapons, peddling goods at market.

  ‘I don’t belong here!’ I wave-shouted.

  I headed out the main gate and across a nearby field. Once I was out of sight of all humanity I staggered into human form. Still running I lost my balance over a tumble of rocks and fell at the edge of the river. Sharp wet rocks grazed my face and hands. I pushed my face in deeper until the cold river submerged me and took away the pain.