Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1)

by Greenslade, Amanda

  ‘You are young,’ the king sneered, looking straight at me. ‘Has Jaria fallen on such hard times that it sends untried diplomats to negotiate with me?’

  Both Rekala’s and Tiaro’s reassuring thoughts swam through the waves toward me, trying to give me the courage I needed to speak in this intimidating man’s presence.

  ‘Just think about those delicate, unmarred fingers,’ Rekala suggested, ‘struggling to wield a hammer and nails let alone string a bow.’

  I laughed inside at the mental picture she sent me and somehow mustered the will to look up at the king, my expression grim.

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty. I am young and untried and yes Jaria has fallen on such hard times that I am the one who was sent. Indeed, the Zeikas have killed our prime, many of our leaders and our people.’

  I decided against mentioning that our only other Anzaii had also been slain. If King Flale was in league with the Zeikas it wasn’t wise to let him know Jaria was currently unguarded by those with the most chance of repelling Zeika magic.

  Ignoring the tragic news I had brought the king leant down over the balcony rubbing his chin.

  ‘I have not seen an Anzaii for a while,’ he said. ‘What are you capable of?’

  I glanced at Sarlice whose face remained calm, although I could tell from Kestric she was seething at the king’s nonchalance.

  ‘Thus far, not much, Your Majesty, other than banish the odd ward or scrying mark.’

  The king’s eyes fell upon the pendant swinging around my neck, comparing its lack of shine with the earring I wore in my left ear. He gestured for one of his aides to collect them both from me. Resisting the urge to fight I dutifully removed both Roukney and Tiaro and handed them to the man. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as Tiaro was taken away from me.

  The aide climbed the stairs to the balcony and gave the precious artefacts to King Flale, who held them up to the light streaming in from a window high above us. The blue strip of sapphire tree leaf that housed Tiaro’s soul, pulsed and glowed, but Roukney was as dull and lifeless as an ordinary sapphire.

  A swooping fear passed through me. What if the king took a fancy to those artefacts and decided to keep them? There would be nothing I could do about it. To have met Tiaro so recently only to lose her would be unbearable. And what would happen to my Anzaii gift without her? It seemed that she was the mechanism that facilitated my learning and that proximity to Zeika magic was the catalyst for our development. Without Tiaro my new purpose would be gone….

  Rekala whined, unable to stay seated as she was supposed to in the presence of the king. One of the guards stepped a little closer to her, his pike held at the ready. It would only take him a moment to deliver a crippling blow to her spine.

  ‘Easy, Rekala,’ I said through the waves. ‘Fade, Tiaro.’

  Without any Zeikas around the earring didn’t have much urge to stay alert anyway. She closed down her sense of awareness and slowly withdrew. The glow faded to a mere hint of what it had been before, just a fraction brighter than the sapphire tree leaf on my mother’s pendant. King Flale pursed his lips, disappointed to see that the jewels now looked very much like ordinary trinkets.

  ‘Does it only glow like that for you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ I replied. ‘Anzaii-kin are triggered by the presence of their Anzaii. When they sense Zeika sorcery they become fully engaged and that is when they’re at their brightest.’

  King Flale narrowed his eyes at me. ‘It might be interesting to see one day. Perhaps I should send you into the Red Arena.’

  Sarlice drew a sharp breath and Kestric joined Rekala on all fours. The Red Arena was Telby’s famous bloodsport, a pit in which soldiers, slaves and beasts were sent to fight for the entertainment of others.

  Telby valued its soldiers too much to make every fight to the death, but deaths regularly occurred nonetheless. If a pit fighter didn’t die during the spectacle they often died later from their wounds.

  ‘If a spectacle is what you desire, Your Majesty, I humbly suggest finding a more qualified Anzaii to pit against a Zeika. I fear I would not last long.’

  ‘What makes you think I want to send you against a Zeika?’ Flale asked. ‘When I have only recently allied myself with Reltland it might be considered rude to have them fighting in my arena.’

  I bit back a snide remark about it being a damn sight worse than rude to suggest he send me, an ally, into the Red Arena. His laid-back confirmation of our worst fears was enough to make me feel sick. Sarlice shifted beside me. I could tell from Kestric that she wanted to scream at King Flale, but with masterful control, she kept her voice even.

  ‘Please, Your Majesty, why have you done that? Why have you lifted the ban on our ancient enemies?’

  He ignored her, waiting for my reply to his question.

  ‘I guess because that’s the only way to truly see the scope of an Anzaii’s power,’ I said. ‘Our purpose is to overcome Zeika sorcery. That is what an Anzaii-kin is for.’

  The king looked down at Roukney and Tiaro once more, contemplating.

  ‘I suppose it’s hard to break one,’ he mused. Without any further warning, he flung both objects over the side of the balcony, blinking innocently as I dived to catch them. The cold stone met my hips and knees with a thud, but both my mother’s pendant and the earring crashed down out of reach and skittered some three feet away from me. The large gathering of guards and attendants chuckled at my performance, but I ignored them, scrambling across the stones to reach the artefacts.

  I sat up with both items in hand, checking them for damage. Satisfied the two were hale, I allowed myself a small groan of pain. Despite landing hard on the Jarian belt the sapphire leaves on it remained unscathed. My hips had not fared so well, but it would only be bruising. Kneeling, I put both items back on, fumbling with the catch on the necklace.

  Sarlice waited until I was done then offered me her arm. The long white sleeve engulfed my hand when I accepted her assistance and stood back up. She squeezed my hand, out of sight, catching my eye for a brief moment. I nodded at her to continue speaking.

  She cleared her throat and said, ‘Lyth and Jaria are being attacked by Zeika raiders. In light of Telby’s alliance with Reltland our leaders wish to know where we stand with Your Majesty.’

  The king laughed. ‘Where you stand! You stand on the outskirts of my territory resisting inclusion in the safety of my realm. You refuse the protection of Telby by running your own splittin’ trade scheme.’

  ‘We are your allies, not your subjects,’ Sarlice uttered, barely controlling herself.

  ‘A point of contention that Lyth seems determined to maintain,’ the king replied. ‘Alas, perhaps if you were my subjects I would be able to stop the Zeika legion from overrunning your precious forest. Oh, haven’t you heard? There is a fortress being built south east of the Barh desert and they need a great deal of wood for its construction.’

  To cover Sarlice’s cry of outrage, I asked, ‘And what of Jaria? Has what my ancestors sacrificed for the establishment of your kingdom faded so easily from memory?’

  My blood quickened and the anticipation of conflict brought clarity to my senses. Rekala’s fur bristled. Tiaro brightened and started praying fervently, her words like a whisper in the back of my mind, merging with my own cries to Krii.

  ‘Nay,’ Flale replied coldly, ‘I have not forgotten the small advantage the wild Rada brought to augment my own Rada citizens. But as long as you remain independent and deny my regents the right to rule over you, both Lyth and Jaria have chosen their own fate. I am the ruler of the greatest kingdom on Chryne—do you really think your petty concerns are relevant to me? If your people are being attacked by my new allies, the Relts, I suggest you do something to appease them for you cannot prevail against them. The vastness of their armies and their powers goes far beyond what anybody in Telby has yet seen. I choose my allies carefully and you would be wise to do the same.’

  ‘Telby is an ally,
’ I said, fighting to keep the quaver out of my voice. ‘Or, at least we thought it was. That is why Jaria has sent me to you now. It seems you have lifted the exile and made a new alliance that threatens us. We will never appease the Zeikas. They hate all Kriites and it’s only a matter of time before they start killing or enslaving the Kriites that are part of your realm as well.’

  ‘I am a ruler of hundreds of thousands,’ the king declared, gesturing broadly with the hand that held the sceptre. ‘My realm harbours people from many religions. I do not favour one over another except to support those who can strengthen my realm. If the might and power of Telby depends upon the demise of a fading religion, so be it. When the weak perish the strong thrive.’

  Sarlice glared upwards, recognising the Zeika sentiment the king spouted.

  Sensing the hopelessness of our situation, I asked, ‘What of the Rada living within your cities?’

  ‘The Rada who live in my cities and abide by my laws are treated like any other citizen.’

  Sarlice lifted her hands in frustration. ‘But the Zeikas….’

  ‘The Relts are our allies now,’ Flale said sternly, ‘and you would be wise not to speak against them.’

  ‘Your Royal Highness,’ I said smoothly, trying to start over, ‘am I to believe that if Jaria or Lyth were to forfeit their lands and accept the rule of a regent you would make treaties and send soldiers to protect them from Zeika incursions?’

  Sarlice whispered angrily in my ear. ‘Lyth would never accept the rule of a regent.’

  ‘There was a time when I might have considered that,’ King Flale answered, ‘however, no regent will be sent to Jaria. That offer was turned down long ago when your leaders refused to make Jaria a part of Telby. Therefore you are not my concern. As for Lyth….’ He turned on Sarlice with a savage expression. ‘My regent has been there for years yet you constantly rebel. Your people are like a burr in my boot that will soon be removed. Tell your leaders that I, King Flale of House Rakerne, Lord of Four Realms, repay their stubborn independence by letting them have it.’

  Sarlice stiffened and Kestric roared with such volume I nearly clamped my hands to my ears. The guards drew their weapons and advanced on us.

  ‘That is all,’ Flale said, nodding to the guards.

  They forced us backwards through the chamber.

  The king shouted, ‘He who isolates himself seeks his own desire; he rages against all wisdom.’

  With that we were ushered out of the immense chamber. As we passed through one of the stone archways, flanked from behind and in front by guards, a man of about thirty entered the palace. He was with two male companions who were making jokes and recounting something that had just happened. The first man stopped when he saw me. For a moment our eyes locked and it was like looking at myself in a still pool. He had thick, black hair like mine, brown eyes, a strong jaw and round nose. His skin was not as dark, and his body was flabby, but for all that we could be related.

  ‘Come now, Prince Joram,’ one of his companions said jovially. ‘How about those summerberry tarts Cook Jeffries promised us?’

  My look-alike relaxed and nodded. ‘Yes. Yes that would be nice.’

  They continued on, leaving me to wonder who he was. The other man had referred to him as Prince Joram, a name that I had heard recently, but could not place. It was probable that this Joram and I shared a common ancestor, though he clearly did not possess any of the gifts of the Astor.

  ‘I wonder if that’s only because he’s not a Kriite,’ Tiaro pondered. It was well-known among Kriites that only genuine believers would actually manifest the gifts inherent in their bloodline.

  We passed Flale’s statue in much lower spirits than before. The stirring of my belly had been replaced by a hard, angry knot. Rekala and Kestric stalked at our sides, swerving their heads to snarl whenever a guard came too close. Despite the presence of the tigers I felt vulnerable walking out of the palace with my back to it. The guards at the front led us across the southern gangway and unlocked the gate. Rekala swung around and scanned the watchtowers behind us. Sarlice, Kestric and I passed through the gate. A guard poked his lance at Rekala to get her moving, but she spun and roared ferociously. The sound echoed off the palace walls high above. The guards drew back, but their fear enticed her even more. She swiped with her claws and made to chase them further.

  I spotted archers with drawn bows in the watchtower and shouted, ‘Rekala, no!’

  She gave one more frustrated roar and backed slowly out the gate. It clanked shut behind us. Sarlice put her face in her hands.

  ‘I don’t know what I expected,’ she said. ‘My father knew it was a desperate move. That’s why he sent me to Jaria first.’

  ‘You thought to benefit from Jaria’s higher standing, because we helped Telby during the Realm Wars,’ I stated.

  She looked into my eyes. ‘It sounds callous when you say it like that, but the fact is, King Flale has considered Lyth a part of his territory for all of the nineteen years he’s been in power. They call it Telby South and the Lythians are considered rebels. Lyth is one of the four realms the king mentioned.’

  ‘I was thinking about those four realms,’ I replied. ‘The area around Tasset, Tez and Sarm used to be a realm called Tass, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then there’s Telby and Telby South, or Lyth. What is the fourth realm King Flale claims as his own?’

  ‘The Barh desert, which used to be a realm of its own,’ she replied.

  ‘It’s a wonder he wants the land so badly,’ I commented.

  ‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘As Lira said a while ago the desert offers fine camel stock to Ubu. It also grants access to Duuryn and Irin, two of the richest nations on Chryne and there’s a tract of arable land to the north east of Lyth where very few settlements exist due to the high occurrence of grassfires. That’s where the king told us a Zeika fortress is being built. I must send word back to my father of this unfortunate turn of events.’

  After a momentary pause, we resumed walking.

  ‘Why won’t Lyth submit to the rule of the regent?’ I asked.

  ‘We are nomadic forest dwellers,’ she replied testily. ‘Lord Hornold Mastema, the regent, would have us all living and working in his cities of stone. We would be forced to toil for him the rest of our lives without the freedom to hunt and plant where we choose. Eventually he would try to replace our customs with those of his own people. We saw it happen to some Kriites who moved into one of Mastema’s villages—over the years they compromised on their beliefs little by little until Mastema had eroded their faith to one that barely even relates to the holy scrolls. Did you notice the last thing the king said?’

  ‘Something about being isolated,’ I murmured.

  ‘Yes. I think it’s a verse from Hemkera’s Scroll of Wise Sayings.’

  We found our way to the forest path and then deliberately stepped off it into the thick of the trees.

  ‘Why would King Flale quote from the holy scrolls?’ I wondered.

  Sarlice batted angrily at a cobweb. ‘It was King Aabyn who destroyed all the Kriite and Zeika texts. Obviously King Flale thinks differently. He perceives all religions as tools in his schemes. We know he’s devious—look how he has allied himself with the killers of his own mother.’

  Rekala and Kestric had a good scout around to make sure we weren’t under any threat. Then they sat near us and took it in turns to contact our homes. Rekala went first. I observed her search-wave without interfering. Unlike Sarlice I could sense each of the minds Rekala touched in my own mind. She chose none other than Bessed’s Rada-kin, Uola, to relay the news of our talk with King Flale. Because I knew him I found it possible to jump across Rekala’s connection in the waves and link with him myself. Uola locked onto my wave with intense curiosity, probed to see how strong it was and found it satisfactory.

  The ageing male ram anticipated my news. ‘You bring gloomy tidings.’

  I sent my recollection of the mee
ting to him with a heavy heart. Though I couldn’t communicate with Bessed I sensed his lack of surprise in Uola’s mind.

  ‘Bessed thanks you for trying,’ Uola said.

  ‘We will continue in our mission to find aid,’ I replied steadily. ‘How fares Jaria?’

  ‘Our wounds are healed Talon, but the hearts of the grieving are still raw. We are wary in the fields and forest, but so far the Zeikas have not bothered us again. Some say it’s because the Zeikas think you are still among us, protecting us. Others say it is because you have left and the Zeikas are after you instead of us.’

  I think there is more to this conflict than we yet know,’ I replied. ‘King Flale seemed very confident in his alliance with Reltland, but there was something the guards said about the Princess Denliyan. She’s involved in something, too.’

  ‘What was it?’ asked the ram.

  ‘That they were to send any representatives from the allied realms to her instead of the king,’ I replied. ‘What does Bessed make of that?’

  Uola conferred with his Rada for a few minutes before turning his attention back to Rekala and I. ‘Bessed says that the only allies they could have been referring to are Reltland, Jesath and Jaria. He says the princess is heavily involved with the politics of Telby and may be dealing with the Zeikas behind her father’s back. He wants to know if you’ve seen her during your time in Telby.’

  ‘Nay,’ I replied, ‘and the guards said something about her being at her aunty’s estate. That’s why they took us directly to the king, I suspect—Princess Denliyan was not around.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Uola replied. ‘We wonder what she is up to. With this delicate new alliance between Telby and Reltland, it is surprising she’s not there in the capital.’

  ‘What should we do to unravel this?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Uola replied. ‘Continue your journey to Tanza and Watercrag learning what you can of the Zeikas’ schemes on your way. If you can find anyone willing to send aid to Jaria you have the trade agreements to arrange it.’