Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1)

by Greenslade, Amanda

  ‘It cannot be,’ I said to Sarlice.

  ‘What, Talon?’ she asked, dragging herself off the rock and kneeling by my side. She stroked my back.

  I pulled away, shouting, ‘No. It cannot be.’

  On all fours I strained to stay in my human form. Fur bristled along the tops of my arms and my fingers splayed out, growing claws. My back arched and I heaved up the contents of last night’s dinner. The act of vomiting drew so much of my energy that my body stopped transforming. The fur and claws vanished, but the feelings of betrayal and self-loathing remained. That someone had raped me was only a part of my despair. Most of all I was furious at myself for being duped.

  Sarlice was crying, one hand over her wounded collarbone.

  ‘Tell me what’s going on, please….’ she pleaded.

  I turned my watery eyes upon her, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and said, ‘Lira is the Princess Denliyan of Telby.’

  Chapter Seventeen—Recovery

  ‘I will follow Lira and the Zeikas,’ Rekala said.

  ‘I had better take Sarlice to Ubu. There’s too much trouble in Telby City.’

  I sensed Rekala’s eyes close in agreement. She was feeling bewildered by the big city and all the human conflict, but knew enough from her connection to my mind to have a good understanding of our predicament. In the wild an injury like Sarlice’s would result in death. Rekala recalled seeing a wild treelion shot by an arrow and escape, only to die a lingering painful death in the mountains.

  ‘I have found the entrance to the cave,’ Kestric sent with great relief.

  He was racing through the dank passages in horse form, ready to carry his Rada on his back. I had been unable to hide my emotions and thoughts from Kestric, so he gradually passed everything I had realised about Lira on to Sarlice. She was exhausted and in pain, but still sharp enough to comprehend what it meant—we now had something else in common.

  The water in my boots was long gone, but I used a damp piece of torn fabric to mop Sarlice’s brow. She shuddered, wincing from the pain brought by the slightest movement.

  ‘What do you suppose Li… the princess will do once she and the Zeikas realise you’re not following?’

  ‘I’m guessing they’ll come after us,’ I replied. ‘Lira has what she wants, but the Zeikas want me in Reltland.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Something High Commander Jonaal said when the warder Arak caught Rekala and I. He said there would be no treatment for Arak’s wounds until I was in Reltland.’

  ‘You’re worried about why they want you in Reltland,’ Sarlice observed, watching my face with such intensity that I had to look away.

  ‘I was just wondering if….’

  ‘If what?’

  ‘…if the Wavekeeper cult is right. Those are the people who killed Jaria’s Anzaii, Feera.’

  ‘Right about what?’ Sarlice pressed.

  ‘That there’s a plot of some kind to harness Kriites with exceptional abilities.’

  ‘Well of course there is,’ Sarlice replied. ‘We’ve known for decades that the Zeikas have Rada slaves. I freed some myself once, an Anzaii-Rada among them.’

  ‘What were they doing with…?’

  ‘He was in his fifties and had lived in Duuryn for most of his life, rarely encountering Zeikas,’ she breathed, talking faster to distract herself from the pain. ‘They captured him and put him to service as a wave-caller. It’s easier for them to work with a human, than to coerce the Rada-kin into sending their messages.’

  ‘They would still need a verifier,’ I observed.

  ‘Aye,’ she replied. ‘But there’s nothing to stop the wave-caller from reaching out to a second being on the waves, as long as they also get the Zeikas’ message through.’

  Kestric wasn’t far now. I could sense him in the waves like a bright mass rushing down a river of blue-coloured light.

  ‘Is that how you found out about him in order to attempt a rescue?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said, stopping herself from nodding. Even the smallest motion caused agony to rip through her body and Kestric was doing little to hide her pain from me. ‘We intercepted them in Jesath, slew the guards and cut the remaining Zeikas’ throats in their sleep.’

  When Kestric reached us I pulled Sarlice against my chest and struggled to my feet. She tried to bite back her cry of pain, but it proved too much for her. Kestric crouched down on his knees so I could lift Sarlice onto his back. After he stood I climbed up behind my guide. She slumped heavily against me, tears coursing down her face. I held her head between my chin and shoulder, striving to stop her body from slipping forward. I squeezed my knees tightly—bareback riding was familiar enough to me—but it was all I could do to keep us both safely on Kestric’s back.

  The firetiger moved gently despite his increased anxiety. His hooves clattered on the rocky ground, filling the cave with the sound of our passing. He had not rested for more than a day, spending his endurance with steadfast devotion that would rather see himself collapse from fatigue than more harm come to Sarlice.

  At the mouth of the cave I lay Sarlice flat and left Kestric to guard her. I raced back to the campsite in wolf form to retrieve our gear, hoping and praying Fleetfoot had not gone far.

  Thankfully a whistle and a portion of feed brought Fleetfoot out of hiding. I caught him and loaded him up with my saddle, my packs and Sarlice’s gear. Leaving his lead tied loosely over a tree branch, I stared at him for a few minutes, storing as much as I could about the body of a horse in my mind. It had been a while since my first horse transformation and I wanted my equine body to be as strong and fast as it could be.

  I crouched down onto all fours, arched my neck and closed my eyes, pretending, like a child would, to be a horse. I brought my feet up under me, pawed the ground with my arms and tossed my head. When I opened my eyes again I was three times higher than I had been a moment ago. My body felt strong and supple, muscles and limbs perfectly aligned for motion. Fleetfoot snorted and nipped at me when I got close enough, so I laid my ears back and reared up.

  He took a few paces back, drawing the rope tight. Without wasting any more time, I took the gelding’s rope between my teeth and pulled him after me. He followed nervously at first, shaking his head and stopping every few feet, but eventually I increased the pace until we were trotting, cantering and then galloping back towards Sarlice and Kestric.

  The urgency to get further away from our attackers was now paramount in my mind. As soon as they realised I wasn’t going to attempt a rescue they would be searching the land around the rabbit warren and would eventually find the cave mouth where I’d left Sarlice.

  I came to a halt not far from my fallen comrade, resumed my human form and tied Fleetfoot to a pile of rocks. The gelding was breathing heavily, flaring his nostrils and quivering. I hauled the gear off Fleetfoot’s back and lay it out on the ground, fossicking for the wine, linen bandages and needles, brandy, water and food.

  It had been a day since either of us had eaten or drunk properly and my belly was roaring, but I was more concerned about Sarlice than feeding myself. I woke her and helped her to drink two cups of water and some brandy to ease the pain.

  ‘Now, I want you to bite down on this trencher,’ I said, putting a slab of hard bread into her hand.

  ‘Kestric, make sure she doesn’t drop it. Tell me if she does.’

  ‘Very well,’ he replied to both of us. ‘Not that I understand why.’

  ‘He d… doesn’t w… want me to b… break my own teeth.’

  Once she was busy with that I removed her bandage and poured wine over the area so I could see it better. Copying the physician I had seen in Jaria, I poked around in the wound with a clean knife and removed all the bone fragments I could find. Kestric growled at me. Sarlice was unable to speak to reassure him, but Kestric’s connection to my mind was enough to convince him I was trying to help.

  Blood flowed afresh, making my hands sticky and causing me to fumble the kni
fe. I washed Sarlice’s collarbone with wine, apologising for the mess. I pressed a dry piece of linen into the wound, leaning down with all my strength. Five or ten minutes passed, during which time Sarlice breathed erratically and fought back as many groans of pain as she could.

  Once her breathing had calmed a little she pulled the trencher out of her mouth.

  ‘More brandy,’ she said hoarsely.

  I lifted my bloodied hands from her injury and passed the bottle to her, trying not to get blood over the spout. Seeing the blood seeping through the linen I pressed down again and Sarlice guzzled the brandy.

  ‘I’m nearly done,’ I reassured her. ‘I just have to suture it closed now. Can you press on the cloth while I get a fire going?’

  I retrieved the flint and steel from my pack. There were some dry branches with leaves at the cave mouth, so I broke them up and piled them in a tepee shape. I lit the fire faster than I ever had before, stoked it up and placed the metal pan we usually used for cooking on the flames. I lay the needles in the pan and then turned back to my pack for the black silk shirt Bessed had given me. Using the marble-hilted dagger I separated some threads from the shirt, laying them side by side on a broad, green leaf.

  Once the needles were hot, I offered the bread trencher to Sarlice again and shooed Kestric away.

  ‘Go scout around us for danger,’ I requested.

  Once he was out of sight, I stitched Sarlice’s wound closed with the silk threads, trying to ignore her grunts of pain. I could sense Kestric stop and turn back, ready to attack me. Each time his Rada-kin cried out he growled low in his throat and glared at me, fighting to remain civil. His logical mind knew I was helping her, but his animal mind only wanted to fight that which was causing his beloved much pain. The closer he was to both of us the stronger his emotions were to me and I didn’t have enough spare concentration to block him.

  ‘Go,’ I told him. ‘You’re not making this any easier.’

  After what seemed like an age I tied off the final stitch and bandaged Sarlice’s upper body from one side of her neck to beneath the opposite arm. She was still awake, clenching her teeth without the protection of the trencher.

  Dawn was almost upon us. I washed the blood from my arms and chest, then donned the remains of the black silk shirt. Between us, Sarlice and I drank two waterbags, wolfed down four chunks of bread and devoured half of a cheese wheel.

  After stowing everything and burdening Fleetfoot with all the gear once more, I bade Kestric return to horse form. Kestric walked briskly for the rest of the day with me holding Fleetfoot’s lead-rope in one hand and Sarlice in the other. It took every muscle in my legs and torso to keep us on Kestric’s back.

  Rekala reported that the Zeikas were also on the move, but in the opposite direction. Lira was mounted on Duria with her hands bound behind her back and the horse was being led by the dark knight. The young woman frequently looked behind her, as if expecting me to pop out of the bushes at any moment to save her. I scoffed at the vision of her face in my wave-link with Rekala. It was obvious now that she had dyed her hair. It really was too black to be natural on such a pale-skinned girl.

  ‘Conniving little temptress,’ I muttered.

  Sarlice stirred from sleep against my chest. She was facing forward this time, draped over me with her arms folded in front of her to prevent them from swinging free. She was so weak and there was little I could do for her pain but give her more brandy and encourage her to sleep.

  ‘Not you,’ I added. ‘It’s Lira. They’re still keeping up the charade that she’s been captured.’

  ‘G… good.’ Sarlice murmured in my ear. ‘Gives us more ch… chance to es….’

  ‘Escape, yes, I know. Rest now. All will be well.’

  When evening came Kestric stopped and lowered himself down in a copse enclosed by large, volcanic rocks and dry, old trees. I stepped off with Sarlice and sat her against the smooth side of a large boulder. She had woken occasionally during the day and now squeezed my hand and managed a tired smile.

  I quickly removed all the gear from Fleetfoot’s back and tethered him to a tree with some water and feed. Sarlice held herself very still while I lit a small fire. I inspected her wound, washed it with more wine and dressed it using fresh cloth and healing herbs. The infection in her arrow-wound seemed to be clearing—the bleeding had accomplished that much at least—however, a gash which ran from her spine to her ribs was starting to worry me. The energy spent dealing with the injury in her collarbone and shoulder seemed to have left the rest of her body more open to infection.

  Sarlice blinked. ‘I’m going to recover, aren’t I? It was just a near miss?’

  I nodded, hoping and praying I was right. I turned to my bags in search of food, and found a package of flatbread and salted meat from Telby. I set the meat to soak and heat in a pot of boiling water with some black pepper and ginger, then chopped up the bread and dripped some oil onto it.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything worth selling,’ I said. ‘We’re going to need a bit more coin when we get to Ubu.’

  She wondered for a moment. ‘Sell the camel tusk. Or the belt.’

  I had forgotten about the belt in our recent trauma, but it was fastened around my waist, as always.

  ‘It’s no ordinary belt,’ I said, ‘but an heirloom of great cultural value to Jaria. It’s made from the leaves of an Ancient Sapphire Tree and is the official Anzaii artefact of Jaria.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’ She brushed the sapphite with her fingertips, and a look of reverence came over her face. ‘The Lythian Anzaii Artefact was stolen decades ago. Among Kriites it is said that whoever controls the Anzaii Artefact of a nation holds its very heart. Perhaps that is why Lyth dwindles with each passing year. If malevolent forces control your very heart, what hope have you?’

  After we had eaten, Sarlice closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Her chest seemed to stop moving and my fingers hurried to find her pulse. It was there, soft, but steady. My hand lingered against her neck, my thumb stroking the solid line of her tanned jaw. How could I have been so blind—to have my attention diverted from this strong, brave woman by a deceiver?

  ‘Talon,’ she said suddenly, ‘you never did tell me how you got your name.’

  I flinched, pulling my hand away. The image of a winged shadow stung my tired mind.

  ‘It’s easier to pronounce than my real name,’ I replied.

  She gazed at me intently. ‘But that’s not all. There’s something about a bird, isn’t there?’

  I sighed. It was hard to keep anything from Sarlice when I was so closely linked with Kestric. ‘Yes. People started calling me “Talon” after I got this scar.’ I showed her my wrist. ‘Do you remember me telling you and Li… Denliyan about it in Sarm?’

  ‘Yes, but what is your real name?’

  ‘Theon.’

  ‘Tay-on,’ she repeated, and I clarified the spelling.

  ‘You have a tremendous destiny before you, Theon. Don’t let the past keep you from it.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘The Lightmaker will require more than you think you can give.’

  ‘He will?’

  ‘But not more than you can.’

  Sarlice and I left all the scouting, hunting and night-watching to Kestric during the seven days it took to reach Ubu. We were both exhausted from the fight with the demon dogs. Sarlice’s injuries sapped her strength so fast I had to hold her on the saddle most of the time. Kestric assured us we weren’t being followed within a day’s walking distance, but at times it seemed there were eyes all around us.

  Fleetfoot’s restlessness didn’t help either. With the extra burden of carrying two people he became fractious and tense. When it was clear he needed a rest, Kestric carried us or the gear, sometimes both. He forsook his own needs in favour of ensuring our safety. The lithe firetiger burned his reserves with abandon, leaving him the thinnest I had seen him.

  Sarlice’s mount was still on the road with Lira
and the Zeikas. Rekala had followed them most of the way back to Telby City before they realised she was there. The Zeikas did not attack her, but they shouted at her and boasted about taking their ‘prize’ back to Reltland to be in the harem of Bal Harar himself. They rode hard through the night and met up with a battalion of two dozen Zeikas outside Telby City.

  As I had done many times since the split I wondered if Lira really was in trouble. Perhaps I had it all wrong and the clues I thought I recognised were just coincidences. Maybe I had imagined the voice of the princess—Lightmaker knew I was nearly out of my mind at the time having been trapped in rabbit form for so long. Rekala and Tiaro didn’t see why I went over everything in my mind again and again. To them, it was clear Lira had been deceiving us from the start.

  Rekala stayed on the Zeikas’ trail down through the eastern sheep fields. From what she overheard it seemed they were headed for Ravra where they could sneak through to the coast unnoticed and hop on a ship out to Reltland. That would take many weeks and would be very risky for such a small group. Ravrans had little sympathy for Zeikas and it was said that their armies totalled up to a hundred thousand warriors.

  My heart ached with anger and self-loathing. While I’d been enjoying the attention of the young princess, the Zeikas had been hatching their own plans. What hope had Jaria if Sarlice and I didn’t manage to find them some allies? And if I was destined to be their Wave Master then the longer I took to get this quest over with and return, the greater their peril.

  We rode into the outskirts of Ubu mid-morning on the seventh day since leaving the cave. We were crossing an immense stone bridge when Rekala suddenly broke into my thoughts. ‘Lira and the Zeikas know you aren’t taking the bait. A group of them have headed off to Telby City with Lira. She is free of her bonds now and seems to be in command.’

  ‘Betrayer!’ I wave-shouted, all my doubts banished. ‘It doesn’t make any sense, though. If King Flale had wanted me he could have clapped me in irons the day Sarlice and I met with him.’

  ‘His daughter, the Princess Denliyan, was not there that day,’ Rekala said slowly, realisation dawning on her. She was getting used to human intrigues. ‘Do you remember the guards saying so? We didn’t know what to think of it at the time, but perhaps the princess is plotting to overthrow her own father….’