‘He’s wearing a Zeika ring,’ the woman shouted to the crowd. Then, to him, she said, ‘Poorly concealed.’
‘A murderer from a cult and now a Zeika!’ I wave-shouted. ‘Some terror is upon us.’
A number of Rada-kin looked up. Had they heard me, or was it this woman’s firetiger summoning their aid?
Jarian warriors surrounded the infiltrator, jostling my guards and me behind them. Minutes later, Prime Arone and his aides appeared from inside the hall, eyes fixed upon the intruder. Two of his aides had crossbows trained on the trickster.
‘Get this beast off me,’ the Zeika snapped, but the firetiger only pressed closer.
Arone gave no reaction.
‘My name is Regar,’ the Zeika said. ‘I have a private message for the prime of Jaria.’
‘Splittin’ Deceiver!’ the red-haired woman shouted.
Prime Arone turned to the woman. ‘Sarlice of Lyth, isn’t it?’ She bobbed her head. ‘What were you doing with this Zeika?’
‘He came here with a travelling caravan to entertain the children,’ she said. ‘He noticed me practicing with my Tolite-kin here.’ She gestured at her warbow. ‘And he claimed to be able to best me at a shooting memory game.’
‘The attack on Feera interrupted the show,’ one of the spectators explained. ‘But we urged her to continue. Anything to distract from this tragedy.’
Something is still afoot! I wanted to shout, but my guards were pulling me further back. I knew not to speak.
‘Let me up,’ Regar shouted, struggling against the firetiger and surrounding warriors. ‘I would speak with you.’
‘You are a Zeika spy,’ Arone responded. ‘Yet you wish to be treated like an ambassador and allowed to speak?’
‘You will all be subdued. I only came to offer you a chance to surrender and preserve some lives in exchange for something we want.’
‘What right do you have—’
‘You who do not speak the name Zeidarb in reverence, and submit to the rule of his chosen ones will die, and your children will become our slaves.’
The Jarians around him swarmed over him at these words. Sarlice’s firetiger closed his jaws around the man’s hand, and blood began to seep out between his fangs. Sarlice pulled hard on the tiger’s tail to make him let go. A sense of predatory bloodlust prickled across my scalp, causing me to flinch. Where did that come from?
The tiger snarled, took a swipe at the Zeika then reluctantly stepped back.
‘Bold words for one who will soon know the back of a Jarian war-cell.’
Regar laughed at all the warriors surrounding him and said, ‘You are afraid of me. That is wise.’
The Jarians pulled him to his feet, holding his arms behind his back.
From the outside Arone seemed calm, but I somehow knew his Rada-kin was rallying others through the waves. It was if I could sense a distant shouting crowd. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m here to find out where a young man by the name of Talon is,’ Regar replied, glancing around. ‘Have you seen him?’
Without looking in my direction, Arone cocked his head. ‘How interesting. And what would you want with one of our hunter-gatherers?’
‘Get him out of here,’ Sarlice hissed to my guards. ‘Arone’s Rada-kin spoke directly to mine. He says to get Talon to his home right away.’
Cora and Paril crowded in front of me so there was no chance the Zeika would see me. Neither of them had Rada-kin so it wasn’t possible for them to communicate with Arone like Sarlice had.
The red-haired warrior tugged on my hand. ‘Come on,’ she urged.
I backed slowly away, torn between my distrust and my need to follow Prime Arone’s directive. I followed Sarlice back behind an outbuilding. Cora and Paril crept after us, more Jarians filling the gap between them and the Zeika so that he couldn’t see me.
‘Which home is yours?’ Sarlice asked.
‘How do I know I can trust you, Lythian? You were with that Zeika—’
‘You don’t have to trust me, Jarian, but if you want to live I’d suggest getting out of sight.’
She was the daughter of the Lythian Prime, a fellow Rada and Kriite. If I couldn’t trust her, who could I trust? Cora and Paril were much older than me, but I’d seen them around the village and knew they were loyal to Arone, so I felt safe for the moment.
‘Fine.’ I pointed and started walking. ‘This way.’
A few minutes later, the five of us reached my house. I stopped at the doorway and peered back towards the village centre.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked Sarlice.
‘They’ve taken Regar into the village hall for questioning,’ she replied. ‘Listen, I really think we should get you inside.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Come in and I’ll wash your face. That must be stinging.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she murmured.
‘We’ll stay out here,’ Paril said. ‘One out front and one behind.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied.
Sarlice hovered at the door with her head nearly touching the top of the frame. She was taller than me. The firetiger marched boldly into my home and lay down in the middle of the room, tail flicking.
‘You’re from Lyth?’ I asked Sarlice.
She glanced outside before fixing her attention on me. ‘That’s right. I arrived here a few weeks ago. Life seems… easier here.’
I turned away to mask the frown that came to my brow. My new Rada-kin had just been captured, a woman murdered in front of me and a strange Zeika was in town looking for me. If this was easy, I didn’t want to know what difficult was like.
‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘I can be… outspoken.’
I blinked. Had she read the emotion in my body language? It might seem a little crazy if I asked her how she knew what I was thinking. To my knowledge she wasn’t an Anzaii, and only the most advanced Anzaii could wave speak with fellow humans anyway. With Rekala out of contact I knew it wasn’t her passing on information. Occasionally Rada-kin would unintentionally allow thoughts to flow between them.
‘We are constantly on the run in Lyth,’ she clarified. ‘No permanent settlements.’
‘I’ve heard about it,’ I replied. I had never been to visit the other Rada but I knew they shifted from site to site throughout the forest to escape their enemies. The forest itself was far from here, situated in a lush valley between the snow flats of Siffre and the Barh desert. It was a land of many climates, frequented by heavy mists that could easily mislead a lonesome wanderer. It was partly the mists that had enabled the Lythians to evade the Zeikas all this time, as it limited the Zeikas’ ability to cast fire and was unpleasant to them.
‘It’s part of Telby, isn’t it?’
‘If you’re Telbion,’ she replied sharply. ‘King Flale tries to impose his illegitimate rule upon us. It’s easy enough to avoid the maquis’ patrols most of the time.’
‘You’ve had problems there from Zeikas, too, all throughout their exile from Telby, haven’t you?’ I asked. ‘Why doesn’t the king enforce the ban down your way?’
‘That’s what I’m going to Telby to find out,’ she said. ‘I came here to Jaria for them to send somebody with me. Now that I see you having your own problems with Zeikas, there’s all the more reason for Jaria and Lyth to make a united front before King Flale.’
‘It’s been twenty-three years since the ban. Why are you only going to Telby about it now?’
‘Lyth has regularly petitioned the King of Telby. Ambassadors have been going to Telby since before I was out of swaddling rags.’
‘I can see how Jaria must seem like a much easier place to live, but I’ve only recently met my Rada-kin, and she has already been taken from me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Sarlice met my eyes briefly. ‘I hope you get her back.’
A thin trail of blood had dried down one side of her face where the Zeika’s ring had cut her.
I stepped over the snoozing form of Sarlice’s Rada-k
in and grabbed a white swab from a case of medical supplies. I mixed salt and water in a small wooden bowl and stepped gingerly over the firetiger once more.
One dark red paw whipped around my ankle, claws extended. I staggered, trying not to spill the mixture. Sarlice smiled awkwardly at me and nudged the firetiger crossly with her foot.
‘For your injury,’ I said, giving her the bowl.
She laughed heartily and mopped at her face.
‘Kestric, you’re not helping.’ She stroked the tiger’s fire coloured ruff with her boot. ‘He’s always been playful like this.’
‘Greetings, Anzaii Rada Talon.’
His voice was faint at first—as if someone had spoken to me as I woke from a dream. He repeated himself until I perceived him clearly within the waves.
‘Lightmaker….’ I breathed in reverence.
‘The gift is manifesting,’ Tiaro said.
The earring had remained silent all this time, observing my experiences from my earlobe.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sarlice asked in alarm.
‘Talon is Anzaii,’ Kestric said to both of us. ‘Therefore he and I can communicate.’
‘Oh!’ Sarlice exclaimed.
That would explain why she had appeared to know what I was thinking.
She looked at me closely and noticed Tiaro for the first time. The earring throbbed to life and sparkled so brightly that even I could see it out of the corner of my eye.
‘That is a rare gift,’ Sarlice gasped.
She and the firetiger conversed privately.
Now that Tiaro was more engaged with my mind, and with the waves, a swooping feeling in my stomach alerted me to some kind of danger.
Tiaro’s focus seemed far away as she said, ‘We are starting to be able to hear the other Rada-kin, Talon. Something is wrong. Listen.’
I closed my eyes and focused on the waves around me, sensing small ripples all over the place. It was similar to when I had first started hearing Rekala, but this time there were many more presences and they were fainter and harder to understand. Their emotions broadcast something terrible, though. Words came slowly into clarity. I was out of my house and running in an instant, the old Barh sword heavy in my hand.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sarlice called at the run.
‘Where are you going?’ shouted an exasperated Cora.
Some of the other Rada had just received warnings from their own Rada-kin and were moving away from the village centre.
‘The lookouts are gone,’ I called back to them. ‘Rada-kin are searching the perimeters for more Zeikas.’
I stumbled down into wolf form—the Barh sword vanished out of my hand just before it touched the ground. Tiaro hung securely from my lupine ear.
Sarlice was somewhere behind me—both she and Kestric followed my lead and transformed into wolves. Cora and Paril weren’t quick enough to stop us, nor could they hope to keep up, so we left them behind. We raced down the streets and between the houses, to the north edge of the village, where the voices on the waves seemed to be most alarmed.
Sarlice, Kestric and I slipped into the forest. I scented magic stronger than I ever had before—an acrid aroma that spoke darkness to my soul. Sarlice followed me about the forest for a few minutes, unaware of the locations of all the other Rada-kin as I now was.
A handful of predator Rada-kin were creeping through the jungle nearby, and there were at least six monkeys in the treetops. I was so preoccupied with making sense of my new perceptions that I nearly ran straight into a whole battalion of soldiers.
Between us, we counted nearly two hundred Zeikas riddled throughout the bracken like spiders, poised before their leaders. My nose told me instantly the five Jarians at their feet were dead. There was fresh blood on one of the Zeika’s twin daggers and a smear upon his lip where he had tasted one of his kills.
Most of the other Zeikas carried scythes or maces and wore black leather and chainmail that would hide them well in darkness. I guessed that the Zeikas wearing thick moss-green capes and heavy silver jewellery were higher in rank.
There was a murmuring among the men and they each took their initiation necklaces in their hands. The medallions were circular in shape, bearing the sign of Zei, the Xeldfet, and with one or two black triangles on the outer edge. Most of these Zeikas were Flamers, capable of casting wards and flames. One of them, who had four triangles, ranking him as a Conjurer, was probably the leader of this legion. On his right side was a wicked black dragon standing stock still to the point of lifelessness. It stared emptily ahead with beady black eyes. Flames licked from its oily black neck—a mane of greenish yellow fire. The feet on the ends of its four black legs were wickedly clawed, its body was scrawny and its wings were batlike.
‘A tyrak,’ I said openly through the waves.
‘You are Anzaii. Can you dispel it?’ Kestric demanded.
I turned my attention to Tiaro. ‘Well, can we?’
‘Doubtful,’ she replied. ‘Even if, by the grace of Krii, you could already dispel, you would have to be touching it to locate it on the waves. Only more advanced Anzaii can apply their skills from a distance.’
A blast from the direction of the village drowned us with heat and sound. I spun instinctively to peer in the direction of the explosion, and missed the Zeika soldiers’ order to attack. They charged past us in a frenzied rush. Sarlice, Kestric and I ducked and waited for the onslaught to come. But the Zeikas didn’t even notice us as they passed. They were too intent on their aims. With a glance at each other, in wolf form, Sarlice and I loped through the underbrush after them, with Kestric close behind.
By the time we reached the village, the Jarians were engaged in a desperate fight. With their animal-kin and their ability to morph, the Rada were formidable in battle, but the Zeikas made good use of their fire power. A line of archers were positioned on the roof of the village centre taking out Zeikas below. Mounted Jarian warriors approached from the stables to the east, and anyone who could morph or pick up a weapon did so.
I was so shocked to see this number of Zeikas in Jaria Village that I lost my concentration and fell back into human form. Sarlice followed suit and pulled me behind a stack of crates and barrels. I noticed a scuffle at the entrance to the village hall. Flames and smoke were billowing from inside it, and Prime Arone fought singlehandedly with Regar, his guards and aides already slain.
‘Bessed, Drea,’ I murmured.
‘No, Talon, don’t,’ Sarlice cried, holding my arm. ‘Don’t let him see you.’
‘It doesn’t matter if he sees me,’ I retorted. ‘I’m going to kill him.’
‘Bessed and Drea are hale,’ Kestric reassured us, after contacting their Rada-kin. ‘They are inside the building, cut off from Arone by the flames and falling debris, but there is a door on their side of the hall.’
‘Uola,’ I called, clawing my way through the waves in desperation. It was as if the many Rada around Jaria were suddenly lit-up, whereas they had been dark to my wave senses before. Tiaro was much brighter and easier to find but, if I concentrated, I was starting to perceive dozens of other presences.
Bessed’s ram confirmed what Kestric had told me. ‘Get away. Get free. Bessed says you’re supposed to be escaping.’
‘The Anzaii gift is manifesting,’ I argued. ‘How else could I be talking with you in the waves?’
‘That may be,’ he replied, distracted by his efforts to escape the burning building,‘but it’s too soon for you to fight the Zeikas.’
‘I’m not leaving,’ I retorted angrily. Why was everybody still treating me like a child? Uola made no reply, busy helping Bessed and some of the other elders.
Regar knocked Prime Arone to the ground with a final, vicious swipe and moved into a clear space, bloodied scythe in hand. I lurched forward, but Sarlice grabbed me back with both hands on my shoulders. We were about twelve yards away from Regar and he had his back to us, but Sarlice wasn’t taking any chances.
‘Arone told us to protect you,
’ Kestric said. ‘And that’s what we’re going to do.’
‘Today, we are not here for a massacre,’ Regar announced, ‘but we will be forced to neutralise any who continue to resist.’
For emphasis, the Conjurer and his dragon flew down from the sky, breathing a wall of flame in front of Regar.
‘You slaughtered our leader,’ one of the Jarian warriors shouted hopelessly. ‘What more do you want?’
‘It is the rightful place of Zei’s people to rule over you. We will demonstrate that you worship a traitorous lesser god. Jaria will submit to Reltland or we’ll take it by force.’
‘So was he here for me or here to kill Arone?’ I asked Tiaro.
‘Maybe both,’ she replied.
‘The Lightmaker is the only true God!’ The daring cry came from a young girl.
Regar hurled a white dagger. The girl screamed and Jarians surged forward to protect her. The battle resumed and the roars of Rada-kin mingled with the crackle of sorcerous flames. Snakes of fire lanced out, shearing through all in their path. I leapt up with a snarl of hate, fighting Sarlice’s efforts to hold me back.
Regar blasted fire at a dog to his right and bashed a man over the head with the hilt of his scythe. A pair of Zeikas ran to the fallen Jarian and lifted him onto the back of a spotted horse. With one final glance around the village centre, Regar jumped onto the horse in front of the Jarian and galloped off with a dozen others.
Sarlice finally let me go and I ran into the fray, ducking a blue flail. My attacker struck at me again with surprising speed. I blocked the flail with the Barh sword and lost my footing. His swings came within an inch of my body as I stumbled backwards. The steel darts on my surcoat deflected his glancing blows. The Barh sword saved me from a more serious injury once… twice… three times. The Zeika twirled the mace over one shoulder and a stab of fear gripped me.
Like a bird descending, the mace crashed into my outstretched arms, piercing, bruising. The tender, scarred flesh of my palms burned with pain. The Barh sword lurched dangerously in my direction as my wrists gave way. Then it locked against the chain of the mace and I wrenched the weapon from my enemy’s hands.
Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) Page 10