My stomach turned. Perhaps that’s why the Zeikas had been after me all this time. They thought they could turn me into a psion. They must think my Anzaii abilities were strong. Little did they know I had barely scratched the surface.
Sarlice was watching me over the rim of her glass.
After dinner was finished and the platters and cutlery were cleared away, we were presented with an array of fine desserts. Sarlice declined, pointing at her stomach. I was feeling restless and used the proffered food to keep myself occupied.
‘May I ask what you know about the sapphire trees?’ I said.
‘What do you want to know?’ Crystom replied.
‘That one in the Dome is one of the nine, is it not?’
Tyba looked pleased and curious.
‘We believe so,’ Crystom said.
‘There is a link with the scroll of Anzaiia,’ Tyba said. ‘Four mighty rivers are drawn to the sinkhole around Centan. It could easily be the “Council of Water” described in the prophecy of Anzaii.’
Sarlice and I both looked up.
‘ALERT!’
Em was the first to react, but within seconds all six of us had received a summons from our Sleffion-kin. An image of many wings flashed through my mind. Oily black and green bodies stained the skies above a distant city. Tanza was under attack.
Chapter Nine—Love and Ashes
F
rom high in the blackness of the sky, a mass of dragons dropped to spread green fire over everybody and everything. Children screamed, adults shrieked in pain and terror as beasts plummeted to the ground in huge clouds of heat and ash. The engulfing green flames forced people to their knees, burning many to the bone, blinding and maiming others.
My attention was drawn to Ruhor Lairs where hundreds of skyearl whelps were being cut down by an overwhelming force of Zeikas on their tyraks. The colourful, fluffy bundles lay broken and red in the wake of the Reltic army, their wings burned to mere frames. The adults who were charged with protecting them also lay dead at the entrance to the whelping caves. One adult remained, but his life was soon snuffed out and with him went the vision.
An even larger force of Zeikas had burst through the barrier at Lander’s Bay. The beach was piled with human corpses: slaves and captives who had been sacrificed to reverse the magic of the barrier shield. Ships that had somehow made it through the treacherous reefs were anchored off the coast and Reltic tents lined the dunes.
Skyearls clashed with tyraks in a gargantuan struggle across the sands and among the temperate coastal forest. Humans and Radakin also fought against Zeika footsoldiers and their conjurations. Beasts of nightmare reared up, out of the ground, slashing their unnaturally long claws or beating the Tanzans back with inhuman strength. I cringed as I witnessed a Rada and his bear-kin die in a funnel of green fire.
The nightmarish images came through the waves in spurts, ricocheting from one skyearl’s mind to the next and bouncing inexorably into the minds of their human kin. Ciera took far less time than most of the skyearls to stem the tide, but it was enough to take me off my feet. I gasped for breath.
As the images subsided, I was able to reach for Sarlice, who was lying face down on the ground beneath the dining table, crying soundlessly into the rich carpet. I pulled her up gently, my heart wrenched by the sight of tears streaming down her face. I wrapped my arms around her and she lay limply against my chest, sobbing.
Rekala and Kestric bounded to our sides, chuffing and nudging against us. Sarlice turned from me to bury her face in Kestric’s ruddy ruff. Rekala licked my hair in a desperate effort to offer me comfort.
Shocked by the violence and volume of the massacre, Sarlice, Kestric and Thita took some time to regain control. The violence at Ruhor Lairs, Lander’s Bay and Lokshole continued, but Ciera held back the details from Rekala and me. I could sense his emotional response: one of terrible grief and shock—he had expected an attack, but not one of this magnitude. A surge of protectiveness welled in me, first for Ciera, and then, with increasing passion, for the rest of the people of Tanza.
Ciera roared in anguish, shaking several candles from their perches above us. There was a flurry of movement in the chamber—flames on the carpet were quickly doused. I could hear Crystom shouting, but the volume of Ciera’s cry obscured his words. I could think only of Fyschs and the feel of Zeika flesh falling before me. Without thinking I drew the sword from its sheath. ‘Soon,’ I sent to him.
Rekala, Kestric and the other kin in sight leaped to their feet and stood rigid and snarling with hackles raised. Even Thita had become as tense as stone where he perched on Sarlice’s empty chair with his wings unfurled.
Sarlice wiped her face, smearing the makeup she had put on for this special occasion. I thought I glimpsed a snarl behind the back of her hand. I got the impression she was thinking of battle, wishing she could transform and rush out to fight. Ciera’s roar was like a battle call—reverberating into the waves like a tidal surge that rippled outward through skyearl minds across the nation.
‘Alight,’ Ciera shouted in the human tongue. ‘Away to the Dome of Gathering.’
We got to our feet, and, leaving our dishes and foodscraps behind, hurried out of the palace. Ciera flew off without me, knowing I wished to stay on the ground with the others. Crystom and Em were shouting commands to the dozens of warriors and serfs that materialised out of the palace. More bodyguards marched out of a building we passed before crossing the ornamental palace bridge. About a dozen guards flanked our party as we made our way through the streets of Tanza to the Dome. The kin who marched beside us were tense and focused. I could feel Rekala’s body quivering with fury where she pressed against my side.
Ciera’s clarion call reverberated through the waves for a long time afterwards, with many still receiving it in distant parts of the realm. I knew this mostly from my connection to him, but if the lines had blurred, and I was starting to sense other skyearls on my own, I wouldn’t have known. I marvelled at his ability to send such a broad wave. Thousands of Sleffion-kin stopped what they were doing to answer the command of their emperor.
As we made our way to the Dome, Fyschs remained in my hand, the brown eye near the tip wide open. When we reached the Dome I could see other Tolites with their weapon-kin out. We knew there was no immediate danger in Centan, but Ciera’s call had compelled us to draw our weapons.
Amid the royal party, I walked briskly into the Dome of Gathering; Tanzans with grave expressions parted to let us through. Ciera was on the dais, roaring once again. His clarion call resounded through the city and through the waves, signifying the start of the war. There was a terrifying moment in which I could almost see the bodies of those who would die.
Three women and two men dressed in the garb of Defenders carried maps and scrolls onto a large wooden table on the dais. The king and queen climbed the short flight of stairs and helped lay out the maps. When Ciera’s deafening roar finally ceased, I climbed the stairs and moved to his side, placing one hand on his furred hind leg.
‘It’s happening again,’ he said woefully to me through the waves.
His anger and despair enveloped me—my heart thundered and sweat broke out on my brow. I swallowed and found myself breathing hard. Down on the ground beneath us, Sarlice held her head in her hands. Thita and Kestric were nearby, looking on in concern. Almost as soon as he had let his emotions out, Ciera recalled them back into himself, seeking calm. Towering high above, he bent his neck down and nuzzled Rekala and me.
‘As long as we have each other,’ he began, ‘as sure as Krii lives, there is hope.’
I looked up at him, instinctively moving closer to the warm furred body. I was starting to feel as small and helpless as those tiny whelps.
‘Why do they attack?’ I asked.
‘No envoys sent to Reltland come back alive,’ Ciera said, ‘so we can only guess at what drives them. The Zeikas need more land, but more than that, they want us dead. They see ours as a false religion, one that threatens their right to power. They want Kriites to worship Zeidarb, become Zeika slaves or die.’
‘The world won’t stand for it,’ I asserted. ‘They’re too extreme.’
‘Aye,’ Ciera agreed. ‘Let us hope. We have dispatched messages to Telby, Jesath, Siffre, Ravra, Duuryn and Irin so they are aware of this unprovoked attack. In the past, only Ravra has come to Tanza’s defence, and then only using the words of politicians.’
Beside us at the Table of War, Crystom dipped a quill pen in red ink and scribbled on the closest map. The pen was so well used it had been stripped of the feather, leaving just a stick filled with ink. He held his hand to his head, listening through the waves as his Sleffionkin transferred countless reports from skyearls across Tanza.
‘Lokshole has fallen,’ Ciera told me. ‘It had a population of thirteen hundred humans. The Zeika Legion that arrived there had many thousands more.’
‘Just like that?’ I queried. ‘Lokshole is gone so quickly?’
He peered at me intently. ‘That is not all. A Zeika army of more than ten thousand has attacked our people at Lander’s Bay. Again, our population there is outnumbered and you must remember that not all can fight.’
‘Are we going to help them?’
‘That is up to Em and Crystom.’
Crystom continued writing for some time. He handed the quill to somebody else and bent over what he had written. Em was right there beside him, holding one finger against her cheek.
‘If they’ve destroyed Lokshole, they’ll be coming here next,’ she said.
‘I don’t think so, Mother,’ Tyba replied. ‘They’ll work from the outside in, taking each town as they go. They will leave the heart for last—Hree and Centan.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Ciera agreed. ‘That way, they’ll have already weakened the Defenders and established their own bases and supply lines in connection with the Upper World bases.’
Em nodded at her son’s suggestion.
‘If it goes that bad we can relocate the population of Centan to Condii,’ Crystom said. ‘They won’t expect that.’
The room gradually filled and more opinions were being added to the conversation by the minute. A dozen skyearls came to stand by the dais, indicating for bystanders to move away and keep out of the deliberations. I wondered at that, but then told myself that Tanza was a much larger realm than Jaria. The leaders needed some kind of distance between them and the emotional crowds or nothing would get done.
Soon the Dome of Gathering was full of people and more were crowded outside. A dull murmuring echoed throughout the dome, but the noise was tolerable.
Crystom, Em and Tyba continued discussing their options. A number of advisors pointed out things on the maps and held discussions of their own. Sarlice watched from below and I stood close to Ciera like a child clinging to his mother’s skirts, listening.
The scale of this attack overwhelmed both Sarlice and I. Jaria and Lyth’s combined population was less than five hundred. The Tanzans were making decisions that would affect tens of thousands of beings. After a while it became too much.
Feeling I had little right to contribute, I withdrew to the back of the stage with Rekala and gestured for Sarlice and Kestric to join me. We waited there for a long time, solemnly observing the comings and goings.
‘Talon, I’ve just received word the Sunbark Cities are expecting an attack,’ Ciera told me.
‘That’s the opposite side of the realm,’ I said. ‘What can we do to help them?’
He looked over the other side of the Table of War. Tyba’s Sleffionkin, Amadeus had drawn himself up to his full-height. Sitting up on his haunches, he was about half as tall as Ciera. Gradually those at the Table quietened. Amadeus flexed his wings and the purple, copper and black feathers shimmered in the firelight and the light from the Ancient Sapphire Tree. The entire gathering waited to hear what the prince’s Sleffion-kin would say.
In a deep, booming voice he said, ‘It is agreed that Centan’s Defender forces will be divided among the cities of Tanza under attack.’
A stir of anger rose, but most of the crowd waited to hear more.
‘We must prevent the Zeikas from gaining a foothold in our nation. We will also send a strike force of the highest-ranking warriors of Astor to Condii to prepare for a siege. It is our strongest town and is close enough to Ravra to afford us supplies or an escape route. We expect the Zeikas to converge there before coming to Centan, if they even get that far.’
Sarlice murmured her approval.
I licked my lips, wondering who would be in the strike force. Would Rekala have to stay behind if I went?
‘We should go,’ Ciera said to me. ‘Tyba and Amadeus need me to help lead the strike force. Will you join me, Talon?’
I stared at him. ‘Am I ready for this?’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Ciera assured me. ‘But Rekala would have to stay behind.’
Rekala, who was pressed against my leg, lashed her tail in frustration.
Amadeus flapped his wings again. ‘Only those with the ability to ride aback their Sleffion-kin will be part of the Anzaii strike force. You must fly swiftly to the aid of our brethren. Those who wish to go must be here in three hours and be ready to depart tonight.’
The strike force was to be a flying squadron of Sleffions who were also gifted with one or more of the other Astor abilities. It had been formed several times in Tanza’s history, usually by Ciera. Being the oldest skyearl with strike force experience, he knew some of the best strategies for getting a flight group close to the enemy without making them vulnerable.
When an Anzaii invoked his or her powers, it almost always left their physical body unprotected. Anzaii had far more effect against Zeika magic than Sleffions, Tolites and Rada so the other warriors would be there to protect the Anzaii members of the strike force. If there were any Astors, like me, at a time of war, they were expected to join the strike force. There was no better situation to utilise and expand their gifts.
‘You’ll be surprised to see what a company of Anzaii can do,’ said an unknown voice in my head.