Way Walkers: Tangled Paths (The Tazu Saga)

by Leigh, J.

  Jathen raised an eyebrow and said in Tar’cil, “Paranoid, huh?”

  Thee shot him a doleful look then sighed, opening her belt pouch once more. “Here.” She slipped two more silver coins into the waiting hand. “That’s all I have left.”

  The little one’s eyes got very big, and she turned back to her sister with a big grin. Her smile faded as her older sibling gave her a harsh look. The little one spun back to them. “Thank you,” she uttered through the whistling of missing teeth then shuffled after her sister.

  “How can you say that doesn’t warm the heart?”

  Jathen pointed behind her at more little hands of other children who’d seen the second exchange.

  She turned to look, then backed up into Jathen. “Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t have any more. No, really.”

  They didn’t listen, pressing forward as Jathen began to walk Thee backward, their needy calls of, “Lady, Lady,” drowning out her protests.

  Jathen felt something at his back and glanced over his shoulder at even more tiny grasping hands. Over a dozen urchins had gathered, dirty faces with hungry expressions Jathen didn’t think could be sated with food alone. He realized to his greater horror that they were attracting a considerable amount of attention from the curious and concerned in the market. Oh great. Please don’t let anyone call the guard. The last thing I need is for soldiers to arrive; Mother would have our heads, not to mention Kyanith.

  “Thee,” he murmured, “I’m going to need you to shift so we can get out of here.”

  “I’ve not got the room. I’d end up crushing someone! I don’t want to hurt them, Jath. They’re just hungry.”

  “And they are going to crush us.” He yelped as a few hands abruptly altered course and made attempts to relieve him of his belt-pouch. He pushed them away with his free hand. “There’s nothing there, really. Shoo.” The crowd parted a bit, and he took advantage of the opportunity, diving through the opening and dragging Thee with him.

  He miscalculated his speed, and they skidded into a ceramics stall. Pottery and people went flying. Above the bedlam of the vendor’s cry, someone yelled, “Call the guard!”

  Jathen snatched Thee from the mess and bolted deeper into the market, albeit with more prudence. He spotted a group of uniformed Tazu headed for the stall, so he turned sharply down the nearest alley. Leaping over debris and litter, he somehow managed to keep from colliding with anyone or anything else. They ran for a time, slipping down lesser-used side streets.

  “Did we lose them?” Thee asked.

  Jathen slowed, scanning for any signs of pursuit. The tightness in his chest loosened a fraction. “I think we’re good.”

  “Thank Spirit.” Thee panted, bending over and resting her hands on her thighs. “For a moment there, I thought we were caught for certain.”

  He glared at his baby sister. “Yeah, well, I think we’d have been in better shape if you’d listened to me.”

  “Jathen, come on. It’s not like you haven’t made some mistakes today. Or even—”

  A low growl from above cut her off. With a flurry of thrashing movements, a spiky tyrn crashed to the ground between them. At well over twenty heads from nose to tail, large even by Tazu standards, the tyrn took up most of the width of the passageway. He boasted dark copper scales, with spotted markings in a deeper red. His talons clicked on the stones as he rose to a crouch, glittering orange- and gold-flecked eyes fixed on them.

  “Well, hello.” The words slithered out in a superior tone from between his sharp-looking teeth. “I seem to have found lost royalty.” He looked up and down the alley. “It looks as if you’re missing your guard.”

  Chapter 3

  Skaniss Malachith chuckled.

  He arched his bright copper webbings to display an impressive ten-point wingspan. “I hate to think of all the horrible things that could have happened to you two without a proper escort.” His tone held concern, but Jathen detected the underlying animosity. “Not to mention all the trouble you’re getting into for slipping off.” Skaniss seemed to focus on Jathen’s neck.

  Jathen tried to bury his misgivings, telling himself they were imagined, but he was having little luck.

  “Fine, you caught us.” Thee attempted to nudge Skaniss’s big tail away. “Can we just go home without a fuss, please? I think we learned our lesson. Besides, you let us get away. I’d not make too big a deal over it to Kyanith, or you’ll get a reprimand, too.”

  “Now, now,” Skaniss said without taking his eyes off Jathen or moving his tail. “I’m rather certain both the king and the queen would take more exception to the two of you slumming than anything I’ve done. Or was the moot just coming to terms with where his lot in life will eventually take him?” He let out a raspy gurgle. “Were you seeking a mate amid the guttersnipes? I think there was quite a bit of possibility among that crowd you amassed.”

  Jathen’s rage sparked red hot in his chest. “You know what, Skaniss? Spare me the egocentric crap your narrow-minded slaga brain spews out. I got us here fine, so I’ll walk us home fine. The Monortith prince doesn’t need you or your shit right now.”

  Both Thee and the guard captain stared at him. Swelling with sadistic pride, Jathen strode toward Thee.

  Skaniss narrowed his metallic-orange eyes. “Is that so?” His tail snapped, catching Jathen hard at the back of the knees. Jathen was hurled backward into the street, where he landed hard on his left shoulder, mildly aware of the sickening crunch of his timepiece breaking.

  Skaniss sprang forward, leering as he placed a clawed hand flat upon Jathen’s shoulder. “Now do you see the danger, Prince? How easy it is for a Tazu to subdue and then crush a moot?” His hot, musky breath blew across Jathen’s neck, and strands of his rust-colored mane scratched Jathen’s face.

  Jathen had learned long ago that cries of agony only encouraged tormentors. Squaring his jaw, he glared molten hatred even as the gravel dug deeper into his bruises. Skaniss wagged his tail as if eager to take up the challenge of breaking Jathen’s steadfast silence.

  “You Red-scaled snake!” Thee yelled. “Let him up!”

  “Watch your tongue, Genthelvith,” Skaniss chastised. “I told you, the streets are a dangerous place.” He applied more pressure, making Jathen grind his teeth in anguish. “I can’t be responsible for what might have happened to the poor little moot before I was able to get here and intervene.”

  Thee balled her hands into shaking fists. “You keep this up, Skaniss, and you’ll answer to our mother. You remember her, don’t you? The queen?”

  The grin Skaniss replied with was positively feral. “Last time I checked, little egg, the military answered to the king, not the queen. I fear not your childish reprimands.”

  “Well, I’m certain Kyanith would take serious exception to his captain soliciting his very underage niece, especially without any prior approval of your bloodline.”

  “Thee,” Jathen squeaked, completely appalled she would insinuate such a thing, even for his benefit.

  The metallic spikes running the length of Skaniss’s back bristled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You want to try me?” she challenged, neck arched and looking terribly similar to their mother. “Just the accusation would get you booted out of Monortith service.” What Thee was threatening was a trifold of ruin, breaking social, moral, and spiritual stigmas. “Now let him up.”

  Ears flat on his head, Skaniss obeyed, though he took his time, scraping his claws menacingly beside Jathen’s torso. “I am still your guardian while on the streets, Lady, and under that authority, I order you to go home. Now.” Taking a few steps back, he arched his wings for a few beats then grabbed the side of the lower balcony, taking the time to flick Jathen’s rising knee with his tail. “Oops,” he said when one of the barbs clipped and tore the pant leg. “You should be more careful wh
ere you fall, Prince.”

  “And you should be careful whom you cross,” Thee said. “Some Tazu have long memories, and Kyanith will not rule forever.”

  “Some are not Tazu and will never rule.” Skaniss turned on his tail and ascended.

  Once the captain was out of earshot, Jathen grasped his newly wounded shoulder. He climbed carefully to his feet, biting back the scream that wanted to erupt from the intense pain. Examining his timepiece, he found the leather strap frayed extensively on one side and the glass face shattered beyond repair. Damn.

  Thee kept her eyes fixed on the copper body looping high in the sky. “There is only one word for him: bastard.” Her expression softened when she turned to Jathen. “You hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. “You really didn’t need to go that far, Thee.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically as they began heading home.

  After a few blocks, Jathen regained full control of his legs as the stinging rush of adrenaline abated. “Seriously,” he said once he no longer needed to lean on her, “I don’t need you to get the biggest of Kyanith’s cronies to hate me even more by threatening to lie about him.” Nor getting him to loathe you as much as he hates me.

  “He was lying about you getting hurt first. If he’s going to play that game, I’ll play right back and have no regrets.”

  “And I don’t want you doing that for me. Truth is… we should never have given him the opportunity.” All the improper mistakes of the day paraded through his mind, and he chided himself for every one of them. “I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth when he found us. And we shouldn’t have been ducking the guards and putting ourselves at risk in the first place. That incident in the low market could have turned very bad. He was right in that.” Jathen rotated his shoulder and winced. “No matter how much of an ass he was in making the point.”

  “Oh, shush. He was utterly out of line, and you know it. If he was so damned concerned, he should have stopped us when he saw us slip away at the temple.”

  Jathen gaped at her. “He spotted us then?”

  “He’s been following us the whole day from the air.” She shrugged. “I figured he was giving us some leeway since it’d been a while, and it’s been a bad day. But now I see the only reason he stopped us when he did was so he could make a fuss about it. And so he could put you on your back.” She raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t notice people all that much, do you?”

  “Told you I wasn’t meant for Beleskie,” he half joked, rotating his shoulder. Either the pain was abating or his threshold was increasing. How did I miss seeing him? Was he specifically avoiding my detection but not hers? He frowned. “Still… that was a bit much, even for Skaniss. Don’t you think? To follow us and plot that out? He’s always disliked me, but that was borderline sadistic. I’m not so blind as not to notice that.”

  Thee nodded. “You need to tell Mother about this one, Jath.”

  “She defends me enough.” He shook his head, thinking of all Mother already had on her plate because of him. “I can handle Skaniss on my own.”

  “Are you deranged?” Thee asked. “He was a few steps away from really hurting you, Jath. What happens if he corners you and I’m not there?”

  “The same thing happens every time I’ve come across some Tazu with a sadist streak and a bias. I can handle it.”

  “Yeah, you handled it superbly with him sitting on you. He never would have tried something like that even a week ago, and he’s not even privy to whether or not what Kyanith threatened today is final.” She shook her head. “It will get worse, Jath.”

  “You think I don’t know that? That’s all the more reason why I should handle it. If I defend myself, then slaga asses like Skaniss won’t continue to come after me for something to prove. If Mother intervenes, I wasn’t the one to put an end to it—she was. They’ll still see me as a target, like I’ve not got enough backbone to take care of things myself.”

  “When were you going to show him you weren’t a target? Before or after he broke your shoulder and collarbone?”

  He shot his sister a patronizing look, even though the words cut true and deep. They hastily made their way across the haunted bridge. What can I do against a full-blooded Tazu? Skaniss can sit on me and cause damage as easily as look at me.

  When he was little, he’d been quicker and less awkward than the bullying hatchlings whose wings and feet grew faster than the rest of their bodies. Ducking down narrow passages where they couldn’t easily fit had spared him quite a few bruises. Since he’d turned eighteen, he had been plagued by a new breed—adult tyrns. And Thee is right. It is getting worse.

  The rest of the hike was traveled in silence, with only the occasional upward glace to confirm the copper presence of their “guardian.” The throbbing in Jathen’s shoulder lessened considerably, but pricks to pride, conscience, and the grinding reminder he’d made some very juvenile mistakes in the course of only half a day still rankled. He knew they were close to home when the permeating smell of sewage and fish faded into the rising scent of restaurant cuisines all vying for dominance in the late lunch hour.

  Thee moaned. “I’m hungry. Stupid Skaniss. If it weren’t for him, we’d stop.”

  “We’re almost home.” Jathen pointed at the purple and gold flags peeking over the buildings fronting the palace complex. “See? We’ll be eating in no time.”

  Waving in the wind, the matching flags of violet fields with golden dragons situated one atop the other reminded him of gleeful hands wagging in greeting. The smaller dragon encircled by a gold sun-disk on the upper flag was for the Tazu Nation, representing their standing as Montage’s chosen land and people. The flag beneath served as the crest of the Monortith Royal house, a Tazu in tyrn form proudly spreading its twelve-point wings. A convenient trait, the Monortith fan-tail was an extra spine and webbing that attached the wings directly to the tail. Unique to their bloodline and a matriarchal trait, the extra bit on both sides added an unusual additional point when they extended their wings in full—six on each side, twelve total.

  Twelve Ways, twelve points. Too bad the extra fan-tail makes for difficult maneuverability. How did Petalith put it? “Monortiths can dive and glide better than other Tazu, and no one can gainsay their speed, but they are hell at changing course.”

  They rounded the corner and came to the most iconic structure of Tazu culture. An architectural masterpiece, the palace complex was a city within a city. Multiple courtyards and buildings connected by arched arcades were arranged around an enormous central palace with colored glass, carved sculpture, bright banners, and capped with domes ribbed in gold. Yet for all the delicate beauty of the façade, a high wall of thick stone, steel, and magic separated it from the rest of the city. The fortification was dotted with spiked turrets containing lights to guide night-flyers and murder-holes to fire projectiles at unwelcome guests. Gorgeous and ostentatious, delicate and deadly, Kidwellith Palace held a mix of welcoming and overwhelming in Jathen’s heart. The place was both home and the seat of power, his and yet not, comfort and, at the same time, the source of all his disquiet.

  They made their way to the main gate, where numerous messengers, servants, nobles, courtiers, and guests bustled. The Tazu guards, while surprised to see them, allowed them entry with little fuss. They had made it across half of the vast courtyard when Skaniss descended. Flaunting his skill with another dramatic entrance, Skaniss shifted before landing, hitting the ground cleanly on two legs. Begrudgingly impressed that the man didn’t even stagger for balance, Jathen still glared at the leather-clad soldier barring their path for the second time.

  “Move, Skaniss,” Thee growled with startling ferocity. “It’s not wise to bar me when I haven’t decided just how far down I’m going to have you demoted before I’m satisfied.”

  “About that.” Skaniss stepped closer. “
Words and accusations can be flung both ways, Genthelvith, and incest between siblings is a far, far greater sin.”

  Forced to stare upward because of Skaniss’s daunting bipedal height, Jathen squashed the urge to spit in his face. Entertaining the very real consideration of throwing rationale to the wind and throttling Skaniss until his smug copper face was dotted with real blood, blue-white fury blazed through Jathen.

  “Skaniss!” Tall for a Tazu at well over seven heads, Bertrandith Larsenitiss strode across the lawn toward them. His radiant silver-blue scales overlaid by spherical markings a shade darker speckled across the backs of his arms, legs, neck, and shoulders were all things their culture considered attractive, at least, as far as Jathen knew from listening to Thee and his mother gossip during mating season about such things. Personally, he found the two-toned silver noble with his dark brown braid far too similar in appearance to Kyanith Monortith to feel anything but apprehension in his presence. Yet Bertrandith was by far the lesser of two evils.

  Bertrandith halted before Skaniss then turned his moonstone eyes toward Jathen and his sister. “Jathen, Thee. Where have you two been?” The advisor to the king was rare in his inconsistency of tone. Mostly his words were laced with the welling pity Jathen despised so much, but occasionally a hint of real empathy came through. At the moment, Jathen detected empathy instead of a more chastising inflection.

  Skaniss responded, “It was a nice day and a somewhat… hectic morning, so I escorted their Highnesses on a calm afternoon walk.”

  Jathen felt Thee stiffen sharply, but he decided against promoting any further confrontation for the day. “Yeah,” Jathen eased out shakily, as he really was a terrible liar when angry. “A walk.” He put an arm across Thee’s shoulders and nodded, even though public affection was considered crass. “Around the temple complex and high market.”