Tanza

by Amanda Greenslade

  Ciera’s wings beat the air, allowing his feet to make only a soft crunching sound as they landed on the dirt road near an old stone bridge. I staggered down from Ciera’s back and shook my legs. Across the other side of the stream was a small castle with many arches, pillars and balconies made of a mysterious, grey-blue substance.

  ‘Home of the Chief Architect,’ Tyba informed me. ‘The Zeikas have not been here yet.’

  Ciera’s tail lashed, knocking over several trees. Some of the humans were startled, but nobody commented. The group fell silent. Beyond the sounds of feathered wings being shaken and bellies rumbling were the voices of jungle crickets and strange animal calls. Leaves rustled in a gentle breeze.

  A group of skyearls, who hadn’t eaten their fill earlier, moved into the forest to graze. The rest assisted us to set up a large shelter and cookfire. Ciera took a dozen water sacks down to the river on his back and hauled them back full. It would have taken humans an hour to gather as much water.

  ‘Why aren’t we going into the city?’ I asked Tyba.

  ‘The Condiites told us to make our camp here on the north side of the city. The Zeika legions have, so far, only approached from the south to attack the town. It appears they are avoiding the River Jarvi. When the Condiites call us, we will fly to their aid, surprising the Zeikas.’

  ‘And what are we going to do?’

  ‘Tactical warfare,’ he replied, clasping me by the shoulder. ‘We will hide in the clouds above the battle, striking only at the right moment.

  ‘When enough Zeika conjurations are close to our position, the Anzaii in our group will dispel them. It is the task of the rest of the strike force to protect the Anzaii if our position is discovered.’

  ‘I have dispelled before,’ I sighed, ‘though I’m really not very sure of myself.’

  ‘You only need to be sure of Krii,’ Tiaro corrected me.

  ‘What about the people who are fighting right now?’ I began. ‘What are we going to do to help them?’

  Ciera’s tail lashed. ‘For now, we are expected to stand by as our comrades are slaughtered.’

  I opened my mouth and closed it again.

  Tyba’s shoulders sagged. ‘This plan was formulated six months ago, when the Defenders contemplated the possibility of a large increase in Zeika ranks. The strike force is too valuable to throw at the main Zeika army. It must be deployed carefully and strategically.’

  ‘So you knew that Reltland’s army was growing?’

  ‘It seemed likely,’ he replied. ‘You see, because initiated Zeikas do not age, their army continually swells. It becomes more cumbersome and more costly, but also more powerful. For each year that passes dozens of Zeika sorcerers progress in rank. Zeikas become ‘Conjurers’ at the fourth rank, which is apparently a difficult achievement. We had hoped Bal Harar was no longer interested in seizing Tanza, that he had gained the land he needed for crops and industry in Watercrag.’

  ‘It is genocide,’ Ciera said, ‘against all Kriites.’

  I rested my forehead in my hands and rubbed my temples. I looked up when Tyba patted me on the shoulder. A man had approached through the strike force who I hadn’t seen before.

  ‘This is Chief Architect Furlorny,’ Tyba said.

  ‘My prince,’ Furlorny said, with a dip of his head.

  ‘Furlorny, I’d like you to meet Astor Talon.’

  ‘Trees! But you’re young for an Astor,’ Furlorny said.

  I didn’t know what to say to that so I held my tongue. Furlorny led Tyba away to discuss tactics with some others nearby, but I was too distracted to join in. Ciera’s mind was abuzz with conversation. I could ‘hear’ only his words, but the meaning behind all that was said to him by other Sleffion was clear. A few miles away there was a pitched battle. More Tanzans were dying by the minute, yet we could not strike too soon or all could be lost. After a ten hour flight, there was strength to be regained by skyearls and people alike. A young man tapped me on the shoulder from behind.

  ‘Astor,’ he said, ‘we all need to eat and then rest for a bit. Here.’

  The young man handed me a deep trencher of gromvi stew and a platter of smoky boiled vegetables and cheese. I accepted the food gratefully and sat down on the ground, leaning against a treestump.

  Another strike force member served food to the prince. I was relieved that we would have this opportunity to recover, but, at the same time, Ciera’s guilt washed into mine and I grieved for the unknown people who were dying for this land. Tyba gestured for a barrel to be brought over for him to sit on and he ate ravenously.

  As I was eating I watched the young man who had served me. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t eaten anything himself yet. Instead, he was busy sweeping out the newly erected pavilion where we would all sleep. He unpacked blankets and ground mats from the vast stores that had been carried by Ciera, Amadeus and the other large skyearls in the strike force. He poured oil into clay lanterns and lit them. A few others tended a fire nearby, cooking more stew for their comrades. I could almost feel their hunger burning through the waves.

  ‘That’s Jett,’ Ciera told me. ‘He grew up near here in Q’Villa with the quarry workers. It’s hard work down there.’

  Eventually the boy joined me, bringing a second helping for me as well as a far-less-heaped plate for himself. His Rada-kin, a viperjay named Naltoch, landed on his shoulder and Jett fed the bird a scrap of meat. I fought to keep my distaste for the creature hidden.

  ‘I’m Talon. What’s your name?’ I asked him even though I already knew.

  He wiped his hands on his leggings and then presented me with the traditional Tanzan greeting. I offered him my hand and showed him how people in the Upper World shook hands when they were introduced.

  ‘Sorry, Astor, sir,’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘I’m Jett. We just assume you know who we are…’ He lowered his voice. ‘There are some Anzaii in the group who can converse with other peoples’ kin. And if their own or others’ kin don’t tell them what they need to know, there are some who can read people’s minds too!’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Well I am only newly declared Astor. I still have a lot to learn about Anzaii and Sleffion.’

  He bobbed his head and swallowed a spoonful of onions and potatoes. He pointed across the camp to where Jaalta was resting on a pile of blankets against a rock. The flight here must have been hard for her.

  ‘A.S.T. Jaalta is one of the best Anzaii,’ he told me. ‘She has two guardians, Amril and Sanka, who are both S.T.s.’

  It took a second for my brain to register ‘S.T.s’ as ‘Sleffion Tolites’. I smiled. Jaalta was now dressed in dark blue robes with her grey hair pinned neatly out of the way. I thought to myself that it was admirable for someone her age to be part of the strike force. I hoped that we would both live through this and find out more about my mother’s stolen child. Amril and Sanka hovered near my great aunt discussing how best to protect the talented Anzaii.

  ‘How is this going to work?’ I asked Tyba suddenly. ‘Does each Anzaii have guardians?’

  Tyba wiped his mouth daintily. ‘Yes, in a way. But you and I will fly together—with eight guardians. Lieutenant Jett here is one of them; he’s your personal aide as well.’

  Jett grinned at me and continued chewing his food.

  I started to question the need for such protection, but the prince raised his hand.

  ‘I am leading this operation, Talon. Without me, the strike force would be in trouble. You and Ciera are also an imperative part of the plan.’

  I nodded, but inwardly I wondered why there weren’t others trained and ready to take our places should any of us fall.

  ‘Maybe there’s no other skyearl who can maintain a shroud as well as Ciera,’ Tiaro suggested. ‘Without the most stable and reliable platform from which to launch each attack, our dispelling efforts would be inconsequential. Not many Anzaii can use their minds to dispel if their bodies are under physical attack.’

  ‘True, Anzaii-kin,’ I co
nceded.

  I finished eating my bread trencher and offered the rest of my meal to Jett.

  He stared at me wide-eyed. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course,’ I replied.

  He accepted the food with such a look of gratitude I nearly choked.

  ‘Didn’t you know that several barrels of foodstuffs went bad?’ he asked.

  I raised my eyebrow and shook my head slowly.

  ‘Some kind of red waxy mildew was found in some of the vegetables,’ he explained. ‘There’re not many vegetables left. Are you sure you don’t want this?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I replied.

  Some raised voices caught my attention. Not far from the men’s bathing area a group of six or seven Anzaii were arguing fiercely with one of the guardians. Other guardians watched from nearby, apparently staying out of it.

  ‘That would be murder!’ one of the Anzaii shouted. ‘For me to take that concoction would mean death for my Sleffion-kin as well.’

  The guardian, whose name was Corypha, chewed his lower lip. ‘I can see your point Aerilaya, but don’t you think it’s a better fate for him than watching helplessly as you are captured and waveraded, then used as a tool against your own people?’

  I frowned at the group, trying to hear more clearly. Jett mistook my expression for confusion.

  Jett spoke through mouthfuls of food. ‘“Waveraded” means “violated”. The Zeikas can do that; or so we keep hearing. Someone in the Sunbark Cities uncovered a plot of theirs to “secure several Anzaii for studying wave interception”. Their witches have learned how to hold captive an Anzaii within their own mind, using their abilities to intercept wave communications.’

  ‘The queen mentioned it during the one meal Sarlice and I shared with the royal family,’ I replied. ‘It would be yet another way for the Zeikas to spy on us.’

  Jett nodded. ‘Aye. There are those who think it could become more than just spying though.’

  ‘The Wavekeepers?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. They think a captured Anzaii could be used to actually locate or interfere with Rada-kin, Sleffion-kin or Tolite-kin. They are afraid that if the Zeikas find one powerful enough, they will use her or his abilities to locate humans as well. It could be anyone they wanted to find, but especially Kriites, so the Zeikas could hunt down and kill them.’

  I shivered, thinking over the ways in which my telepathic abilities seemed to be expanding. Had I been a target back in Tasset for that very reason? Did the Zeikas know something of my future?

  ‘That would be terrible beyond imagining,’ I agreed. ‘But what can we do about it?’

  ‘The Wavekeepers seem to think you should all be killed. They think Anzaii abilities are not really a blessing from Krii…’

  ‘That’s blasphemy,’ Tiaro interjected into my thoughts.

  ‘…rather it is Zei’s way of increasing a Sleffion, Rada or Tolite’s power to give them a false sense of security, with the ultimate aim of usurping that power for the destruction of Kriites.’

  ‘I’ve seen a Wavekeeper murder someone,’ I blurted.

  Jett licked his lips. ‘They are surely mad.’

  ‘Surely mad,’ squarked Naltoch.

  ‘I’m glad you think that,’ I replied. ‘I know I’m not as holy or dedicated as I could be, nor as knowledgeable of the scrolls or prayer, but I do believe this gift is from Krii. He is in control of everything, after all. Tiaro prays daily for our protection from dark spirits.’

  ‘Ah but do you pray also, Talon?’ Colonel Berodukanis, one of the highest ranking Anzaii in the strike force, had approached us from behind.

  Jett downed the last of the vegetables I had given him and said sarcastically, ‘We were just discussing the “solution” the Wavekeepers have for the threat of waverading.’

  Bero rubbed the whiskers on his chin, which were shaped into a ‘V’.

  ‘There have been other, less extreme, suggestions,’ he said. ‘Corypha, our guard over there advocates that all Anzaii should carry with them a packet of viserion, life-quenching herbs. If they are captured and a waverade artefact created, they consume the viserion and within hours they are dead.’

  ‘Preposterous,’ I snorted. ‘Where I come from suicide is not an option. We must fight to the death.’

  ‘No matter what the cost?’ Bero pondered.

  ‘There is always another way,’ I replied.

  ‘It is difficult to equate the risk with one’s own life and that of your Sleffion-kin,’ Bero agreed. ‘But in certain circumstances, you might like to have the choice. The same could be said for any of our high-ranking officers. Successful interrogation could lead to the deaths of many thousands of our people.’

  ‘Well I want nothing to do with this viserion,’ I replied, standing up.

  Corypha, who heard my outburst from several feet away scowled at me.

  ‘Much of this is new to you,’ Bero said, also standing. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand why we do many of the things we do. In fact I’ve been told you haven’t had much experience even at dispelling.’

  ‘No, not really,’ I mumbled.

  ‘You’ll soon get a chance to learn,’ Bero said before he walked away.

  I stood outside the pavilion for a while, taking in the night air. I could sense Ciera sleeping restlessly nearby. Amadeus stood with his head bowed and his wings folded tightly around his body. His claws had extended deep into the ground, crushing grass and roots. Tyba rested his forehead against his Sleffion-kin. Sorrow billowed from the skyearl, not just in his body language, but also in the waves. It was a small step forward for me—to know that I could sense the emotions of a skyearl other than my own Sleffion-kin—but it was a bitter-sweet accomplishment, which, at that moment, I did not feel like sharing with anyone.

  ‘I know it’s hard,’ Tyba whispered to Amadeus, ‘but we must wait.’

  The prince stroked the great skyearl’s furred forehead and slowly turned away. He rubbed his hand through his hair and stopped in front of me.

  ‘Tomorrow will be challenging,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect you to give up your life for this. You are newly proclaimed Astor… there are others who would die in your place.’

  I stared at him with a look of horror.

  ‘We are going to need you, Talon. Even if you cannot do much with your Anzaii gift yet, Krii will work through you. We will need you, and all Anzaii, for the duration of this war. Your lives must be protected. Don’t forget that.’

  I unclenched my teeth enough to say, ‘My prince, the idea of another dying in my place… does not sit well with me.’

  His eyes locked onto mine. ‘Krii died for our failures—he died to break the great seal and give us life, despite his innocence. It is our calling to be like him. “One who lays down his life for another gives the greatest gift of all”.’

  I recognised his words from the book of Halanhod in the holy scrolls. I nodded grimly. I did not have the energy to argue with him. And what was the point? When the battle came, most of our expectations and careful planning would be overturned with immediate problems. And Tyba had little reason to fear for me—I would ride aback none other than the emperor skyearl!

  Chapter Eleven—Bird’s Eye View

  Ciera woke me early in the morning with a gentle, but insistent tapping in my mind. I sensed him standing by the river, muzzle glistening with water. His belly was so full of it that his body felt heavy and saturated. It was damp and grey outside and the sweat inside my leggings made me shiver. The smoke from our cookfire rose into the mist, creating a dense haze. Several men and women were standing about the fire sipping mugs of tea and talking quietly. A couple emerged from the pavilion, embraced and then moved in opposite directions to bathe and prepare themselves for battle. I thought painfully of Sarlice.

  ‘I have convinced Tyba and Amadeus that one skyearl is harder to spot than nine,’ Ciera said. ‘You and I will fly out unguarded to set the shrouds.’

  ‘What are you setting shrouds for?’
>
  ‘For the strike force to ride upon. We’ll be masked from view until a tyrak passes close enough to see through the mist.’

  ‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Zeikas hate the wet.’

  ‘It is one of the many uses of shrouding we’ve employed over the decades,’ Ciera said, subtly reminding me he’d been fighting Zeikas for longer than I’d been alive. ‘Though during war Zeikas are willing to put up with certain discomforts.’

  I stretched my arms up in the air and tried to breathe deeply. My back stung in several places, but as I limbered my arms and legs and continued to stretch, a pleasant warmth came into my muscles. I performed the exercises my leaders at Jaria had taught me and I threw in a few others I had learned from Sarlice. I pictured her alongside me, stretching and straining, smiling at me all the while.

  Although I missed her, I was glad she wasn’t here. A small part of me hoped she would ride for Lantaid with the Rada-kin and hide or escape. Whether Tanza won this war or not, the casualties would surely be high. The further they all were from the fighting, the better, but I knew Sarlice would not run like that—and I could never ask her to either. By most predictions there would be fighting in Lantaid eventually—maybe even in Centan itself—and Sarlice would be right in the thick of it, among her new Defender comrades.

  When I was finished stretching I hauled a bucket of hot water to the bathing tent and scrubbed myself clean. At Jett’s insistence I even spared the time for him to clean and cut my hair and shave my face. I dressed in multiple layers of clothing, including a chainmail vest and a black glass chest-plate. The king had given his best Watercrag armour to the strike force, including dozens of expensive cloaks of dampening. They were made of blue-dyed flax treated with fire-retardant sap. I gritted my teeth as Jett fastened mine on. It didn’t seem right for me to have one and not Jett.