‘Damia, isn’t it?’
He nodded.
‘I must leave as soon as possible. The Zeikas have my Rada-kin. Have you sent by wave-caller to inform Jaria of my plight?’
‘Nay,’ the man replied. ‘We thought it best to let you decide whom to trust with such sensitive information.’
‘You will need some time to recover, young man,’ Annie said. ‘You can’t help her like this.’
I glanced at my hands. ‘I can’t thank you enough for helping me,’ I said. ‘But I fear that you put yourselves in danger by having me here.’
Damia raised an eyebrow. ‘Well now, you are Mandus and Kerra’s son, but what can be so important about you to the Zeikas?’
‘I don’t know,’ I stammered. ‘I thought perhaps they had the wrong man, but the lower-ranked one, Arak, looked specifically at my scar. Said I was from the “ancient line” and that he had recognised my face from an image he’d been shown.’
Damia and Annie exchanged a worried glance.
‘Do you know what this means?’ I asked, desperate for help understanding what I’d heard.
‘Whatever those demon-worshippers are up to it isn’t good,’ Annie said.
‘What did they mean about an ancient line?’ I pressed. ‘Aren’t we all descended from the ancient survivors, the Anzaiia?’
Damia ran his fingers over his scalp, disturbing his neatly combed hair. ‘Yes, but only those who retained the greatest wave abilities were still considered Anzaiians hundreds of years after the Great Ash cloud had passed.’
‘Were the abilities decreasing?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Damia replied. ‘Like everything in our world since Zeidarb.’
‘Didn’t they use the Great Sapphire Trees to extend their abilities?’ I asked.
Annie sat on the end of my bed. ‘Yes they did. In fact, the people of Anzaiia had become so dependent on the augmentation the sapphire-trees provided that most lost the ability to use the waves completely when most of them were destroyed. The resulting confusion and inability to communicate sent the population into chaos, and there was much fighting and unrest. Many different groups branched off and retreated to the surrounding lands, learning to speak and make sign-language with each other, developing new spoken languages to replace the lost telepathy.
‘Over the centuries that followed, Anzaiians became rare. Many of those who retained telepathic abilities were murdered out of fear and envy. Only some sensitives managed to keep it to themselves and pass on the knowledge and ability to their descendants. This is why today’s masters of the waves are called Anzaii.’
‘So that’s what the Zeikas mean about ancient lines,’ I concluded.
Damia stood up and paced across the room a few times. ‘Yes, and they know that the minute someone embraces Zei, they may gain immortality, but all trace of the wave abilities is extinguished and replaced with Zei’s own powers.’
‘You’re talking about the seven levels, aren’t you?’ I asked. Few people in Jaria had been willing to discuss Zeika powers and beliefs with me.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Those abilities are a counterpoint to an Anzaii’s powers. Because of that Anzaii must be at least one level beyond the Zeikas they face in order to overcome certain aspects of their magic. Due to the fact that Anzaii are usually in battle at the time they discover this, it has rarely been put down in writing, but if you are Anzaii, like they say, you will soon find out for yourself what you can do.’
‘What makes you think I am?’ I asked, trying not to let my irritation show. ‘I don’t want any more abilities right now. I just want to rescue my Rada-kin from those bastards.’
‘You sure about that?’ Damia argued. ‘You might need the extra powers to get her out.’
‘You’re in no fit state to do anything just now,’ Annie reminded me. She was even more mothering than Drea.
I rested my arms on my knees. They were already aching from the pain in my hands and my head pounded. Annie was right. I couldn’t do much to help Rekala without the use of my hands.
‘We will save her, together.’
My eyes were drawn to the box. Surely it had not spoken to me?
When she saw where I was looking, Annie’s expression changed from one of concern to anticipation. Damia went to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a tiny key.
‘You can’t open it yourself,’ he began, ‘what with your hands all wrapped up. But I suppose I can unlock it for you, ’s long as you’re the first to see inside.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘That box is from your father,’ Annie said. ‘A gift for when you first found your Rada-kin.’
‘What is it?’ I asked, waiting impatiently for Damia to turn the key.
‘We don’t know,’ he said. ‘We’ve never opened it. But we know he bought it for you in Watercrag.’
I glanced at him. Most of the world’s last sapphite smiths were in Watercrag. When I looked down at the trinket box, I noticed an embossed symbol.
‘That’s right,’ Damia said. ‘It’s a genuine Abost-Zchen artefact.’
I swallowed. ‘My father bought that for me?’
‘He loved you,’ Annie said. Damia’s expression grew troubled. ‘Even though he was… different… towards the end.’
Damia turned the key and opened the tiny lid. A whisper of wind seemed to escape the box. A word that seemed vaguely familiar floated into my mind: Tiaro. Damia held the box so I could see inside. There was an earring about the size of a gold piece. It was a thick, alvurium ring, gold in colour, decorated with a stripe of blue that seemed to have melted into a groove in the ring and recrystallised.
‘Can you take it out for me?’ I requested of Annie.
She smiled as she extracted it, turning it around for me to see. The post of the earring was thick alvurium, secured at the back by a tiny clutch. A more expensive earring my father could not have found. Compared with the simple shell and wood earring I currently wore, it was like royalty. Even among nobility, it would be one-of-a-kind.
‘Is that sapphite down the middle?’ I pondered. As I spoke, my breath flowed over the gem and it glowed in Annie’s hand.
‘Possibly. By the nine trees, would you look at that?’
Annie, Damia and I stared at the vibrant light sparkling from the strip of blue. There appeared to be veins inside it, like the veins in an ordinary leaf. I squinted at it, holding it up close to my eye. Not only were there darker blue veins inside the strip of sapphite, but they had started to pulse.
‘Indeed it is made from a Great Sapphire Tree,’ said a strange voice in my head.
‘Who’s that?’ I replied, while at the same realising it was true—I was an Anzaii.
‘You’re hearing it? It is then! You are then!’ Damia whooped. I was touched by his enthusiasm, but also elated by the magnificent gift. From my father. And the gift of a rare Kriite talent from the Lightmaker Himself. It was almost enough to lift my spirits.
‘If only you were here to share this, Rekala.’
‘An earring?’ Damia stammered, smiling.
‘Why not?’ Annie replied. ‘The Anzaii-kin can be just about anything.’
‘Just be thankful you didn’t get a harp.’
‘A harp…?’
Annie had been holding the earring in front of my eyes all the while.
‘I really am Anzaii, just like the Zeikas said.’
Damia marvelled at the glowing earring. ‘It must have been waiting for you—for this very moment.’
I leaned back against the wall, overwhelmed by the rapid changes in my life.
‘Why has he chosen me?’ I asked.
Damia patted me on the shoulder. ‘It seems the Lightmaker has quite a lot in store for your life.’
‘But what about becoming quartermaster?’ I asked. ‘Is that still my role for Jaria or has it now changed?’
‘I believe Jaria’s Anzaii have usually been involved in more sensitive matters,’ Annie said. ‘Your mother, Kerra,
went on many important quests for them. She and Mandus often stopped by here and stayed with us.’
‘Is that why you know so much about Anzaii?’
Annie shrugged. ‘Partly, but it’s also because we are Kriites and our version of the history of Anzaiia is part of our core beliefs.’ She put the earring down in my lap. I fell silent, contemplating.
After a while Annie brought over a bowl of stew and spoonfed it to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said, feeling like an overgrown infant.
‘What now?’ I asked the earring while I chewed. ‘What do I do with you?’
My new Anzaii-kin’s voice was at least as strong as Rekala’s had been.
‘Lightmaker, I’ve bonded with a half-wit,’ the earring lamented.
‘Right… uh… put you in my ear, yes, but I mean….’
If the earring could have moved of its own volition it would have. As it was, I sensed a whoop of mock triumph. Though it had only recently gained a sense of self-awareness, Tiaro had awakened with a well-developed sense of humour.
‘I am a “she” thank you,’ the earring said. ‘I rather like the primary female archetype that dominates your thoughts. Oh we shall get along splendidly.’
‘I thought you just said I was a half-wit,’ I retorted.
But I knew it was only light-hearted teasing. Like Rekala, she absorbed my thoughts and memories ravenously. Every second, she discovered something new. Through my senses she was coming alive. Then she sensed the pain in my hands. She shied backwards out of my mind, enclosing herself in the earring.
‘It’s all right,’ I said out aloud. ‘It’s just a flesh-wound. I will recover.’
‘Are you talking to the earring, Talon?’ Annie asked cautiously.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Strange as it sounds. She has discovered pain for the first time.’
‘It wasn’t your injuries,’ Tiaro replied sulkily, ‘but your… shadows.’
Rekala had experienced this as well. ‘Not that again.’
‘Hatred,’ Tiaro seemed shocked, ‘oh it is blacker than black. An abyss. A rot.’
‘Would you not hate those who caused you, and those you loved, unbearable suffering?’
‘And grief… this is… well it’s almost like the Lightmaker’s own response to the Great Ash Cloud, but on a much smaller scale. You have never dealt with it properly. Your mother, your father, your sister….’
‘There’s nothing “proper” to be done,’ I retorted. ‘People die. We don’t deal with it. We don’t get over it. We live with it. Welcome to the living world, Tiaro.’
‘Lightmaker preserve us,’ she exclaimed. ‘Your hatred of the Zeikas runs deep. That will never do.’
‘They are the enemy,’ I said. ‘In a battle it sometimes helps to hate your enemy.’
‘Nay,’ she contradicted me. ‘You can defend yourself and others without hating those you fight. Hatred gives no quarter to mercy or forgiveness. For that you will need love.’
‘Here we go,’ I lamented. ‘Now there’s a Jarian priest forever in my head.’
‘Don’t take that tone with me,’ she said haughtily. ‘I am your new partner in all things spiritual. I may be newly awakened on Chryne, but there was a time I flew at the throne of Shamayim. You should listen when I offer counsel.’
I sulked for a few minutes, but curiosity won out.
‘You are from Shamayim?’ It was the realm of the Lightmaker, the place of eternal bliss.
‘Aye, not that I remember much from that existence.’
‘The mortal world must be difficult to face after that.’
‘It is far darker than I could have imagined,’ she agreed. ‘But also that much richer in its experience, and the understanding of everything good. You mortals truly have a chance to discover yourselves. I count myself fortunate to have been chosen to come here.’
‘To me?’
‘Aye, to you, Talon.’
Despite the awkwardness of my injuries I recovered quickly. I had to. Every hour apart from Rekala was more distressing than the one before. I had difficulty sitting still or sleeping, even though I could do nothing useful to save Rekala like this.
I managed to track down my abandoned packs, but wild creatures had devoured most of my food supplies, including the fish I’d purchased from Beney. Good thing I hadn’t already smoked the fish when the Zeikas attacked. That would have been doubly frustrating.
I tried many things to take my mind off the aching hole inside me—walks around Tez, conversations at the local tavern, stables and chapel. I read the holy scrolls, news scrolls and Damia’s precious few leather-bound books.
In the news scrolls from Telby there was more about the Zeikas in Telby and Princess Denliyan’s need for an heir. I wondered if the two were linked somehow. Some of the headlines that caught my attention were Wave-callers accused of leaking private information, Zeikas provide rum for slum taverns and Princess Denliyan still without heir—cousins jockey for the king’s favour.
Annie bathed my hands day by day, and clucked with concern as the blistered flesh turned from angry red to an ugly purple-grey colour. I spent those few weeks doing very little with my hands and receiving help from Annie and Damia to clothe and feed myself. I couldn’t even spend much time in the various animal forms I had learned, because walking on sore and weeping forefeet was far too painful. Besides, it would have slowed the healing process and I was anxious to continue after Rekala.
Damia fixed Tiaro in my left earlobe. She loved it when I walked in the fields where she could absorb everything I was sensing. I was her conduit to the world and, although she perceived things through the filters I had in my mind, she was already able to throw a different light on certain issues. Usually, when she touched upon something I didn’t want to think about, it was our mutual agreement to leave it alone. We were constantly aware of the danger Rekala was in, but were powerless to do anything about it.
‘You may think you are powerless,’ she responded to my thoughts, ‘but I will pray.’
‘As soon as I’m mended, we’ll return to Jaria for help,’ I told Annie one afternoon. ‘We’ll get Rekala back and hopefully find out more about that quarry the Zeikas were talking about.’
‘I’m glad you’re optimistic,’ Annie replied. ‘It’s important to keep faith in times like these.’
‘Does that means she thinks it’s hopeless?’ I wondered.
‘Nay, only that you will need a miracle to pull this off.’
Earlier that day Damia had left for Tasset to send word to Bessed via the wave-caller. We could now see him coming down the road in his horse-drawn cart. Annie seemed relieved to see him.
When he drew near, she said, ‘You didn’t see any Zeikas, did you, dear?’
‘Matter of fact, there were a few,’ he called out over the sound of the horse’s hooves. ‘It’s a good thing we made you stay at home, Talon.’
‘What’s the word from Bessed?’ I asked.
Damia handed me a piece of papyrus, covered in messy handwriting.
Foster son,
You’ve no idea how relieved we are to hear from you. The village is in an uproar at your news. Scouts have confirmed the proximity of our ancient enemies. There’s a camp upstream, but no sign of a quarry or of your beloved new kin.
Hoping you’re able to return home soon.
B
‘He’s not taking any chances with this note falling into the wrong hands, is he?’ I commented.
‘You can’t blame him for being careful,’ Damia replied. ‘If Zeikas really are allowed back in Telby now, there’s no knowing what they could get their hands on.’
‘Why would they be allowed into Telby, and not the Tanzans?’ I asked.
‘All I can think of is there’s been a change to the law. Maybe also some kind of treaty between Telby and Reltland,’ Damia replied.
During the time I remained in Tez, the thirtieth day of the year came by—commonly known as New Day. Kriites celebrated the birth of Krii, a
nd the beginning of the Age of Astors, but people from other religions used it to celebrate their own births and fertility. Gifts were given and feasts were held.
Damia and Annie weren’t a wealthy couple, so I did what I could, with bandaged hands, to help them prepare a small feast. Annie graciously allowed me to help by reciting a recipe for the evening meal, which she followed to the letter.
After the meal we listened to Damia play some tunes on his lute. As was the nightly ritual, Annie unwrapped the bandages on my hands and inspected the injury. This time I was pleased to see some newly sealed flesh. I was able to clench and unclench my fists without breaking the skin. The shiny pink and white scars were hideous and the flesh was taut and tender to the touch.
‘We’ll have to leave those bandages off now, Talon,’ she said. ‘And let it all dry out.’
‘In that case I should like to take my leave in the morning,’ I said quietly.
‘You should let the scars form up more before doing anything with your hands unbandaged,’ Damia warned. ‘A few more days?’
I shook my head, saying, ‘It has already been fifteen. Who knows what suffering my Rada-kin endures while I rest safely here?’
‘But your fellows have looked for her….’ Annie began.
‘Not as hard as I would,’ I replied. ‘I will not give up until I find her.’
‘But, from what you said, the Zeikas are expecting you to follow,’ Damia countered sternly. ‘It is most certainly a trap. Now that you are Anzaii it is no wonder they want you as their slave.’
It was true that the Zeikas knew I was Anzaii—they had known even before I did. I lowered my eyes, having made up my mind, but not wishing to argue with my hosts. If only they each had a Rada-kin, they would understand.
‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. Is there any way I can repay you?’
‘Nay,’ Damia replied, ‘but please deliver this letter to Archive Master Namal.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ I said, receiving the rolled-up vellum scroll from him. I marvelled briefly at its quality. This scroll was obviously something important, yet it appeared to be years old.
Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) Page 8