Read Tanza Online

Authors: Amanda Greenslade

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy

Tanza (21 page)

After receiving their approval, I said to Amadeus, ‘We’re going to take down some Zeikas.’

‘Very well,’ Amadeus replied. ‘Tyba says it’s chaos here. You may engage the enemy. We’ll have Jett fly out and meet you.’

I had almost forgotten about Jett.

‘Thanks,’ I replied.

‘Ciera, be careful,’ Amadeus said. ‘You’re not invincible, even with an Astor on your back.’

Chapter Fourteen—Entrapment

 

I
turned and ran for Ciera. The great skyearl crouched, tail lashing through muck and vegetation. As soon as I was fastened safely Ciera launched into the air. His body whipped sideways, wings propelling us into the sky with terrifying effort.

We shot upwards, the cold air embracing us. Ciera drank in the clouds we passed through. We burst through a particularly thick layer of stratus clouds and hovered above the moonlit plain of white. Stars spattered the sky above us, breathtaking in their splendour.

In the distance, greenish smoke billowed around a network of hastily-formed shrouds. Skyearls circled and dived. Some paused on shrouds momentarily before launching after another dragon. The deathly-dance was taking its toll on the flesh-and-blood Tanzan army. Whenever a dragon was dispelled, there was soon another to take its place. Even though dozens of Zeikas were falling to their deaths, there never seemed to be enough Tanzans to completely wipe them from the sky above Condii. Some conjurers weren’t even mounted on their dragons. They were skilled enough to direct them from the ground outside the city.

‘They can’t be too far away,’ Ciera commented, straining to hover in one place. ‘Even the most advanced far-conjurers can’t be more than about two miles away. We are already one and a half miles high.’

A skyearl and rider approached us from the south west, Jett and his Sleffion-kin Ptemais, a green and red skyearl a bit larger than a draughthorse. Naltoch flew in a circle above them, keeping watch in all directions, including above.

‘I’m glad you made it,’ I shouted.

Ptemais pulled up next to Ciera and landed on a puff of shroud he created. Ciera set down gingerly and stretched his aching wings. Despite the provision of special buoyancy in the air from Krii, the stress of flight still took its toll on his body, especially when there was no wind to bolster him.

‘I hadn’t eaten yet,’ Jett began, ‘when the first Anzaii started retching. They always get their food first. It seems that somebody knew that and specifically wanted our Anzaii to die.’

‘Corypha,’ I growled.

‘What—you know who it was? How?’

I told him of our conversation before we left the camp. A feeling of foreboding crept over me as I realised I had told Corypha about Sarlice and the Rada-kin. I reached for Rekala with such anxiety that she immediately stopped what she was doing and lifted her muzzle to the sky, as if reaching out to me.

‘Talon,’ she wailed. ‘When will you return to us?’

‘You are safe?’ I queried.

‘Aye,’ she said, ‘but not a day goes by that I don’t long to be with you.’

‘I’ll come for you as soon as we’ve turned back the Zeikas from Condii and Centan,’ I replied. ‘But promise me you’ll move towards Lantaid and the chasm. If something happens to me, you can escape that way; I’m sure of it.’

‘Very well, Rada, but what makes you so concerned all of a sudden?’

‘There was a traitor here, someone from that Wavekeeper cult.’

‘Is that the same group we encountered back in Jaria?’ Rekala asked.

‘Aye. The traitor here in Condii is named Corypha—he was a guardian in the strike force. Poisoned most of the Anzaii.’

‘That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that,’ she said, yowling.

‘It gets worse,’ I continued. ‘Before I knew he was a Wavekeeper, I told Corypha about you and Sarlice in Lantaid. It’s possible he told someone else…’

‘But Sarlice isn’t an Anzaii—why would the Wavekeepers care about her?’

‘They probably wouldn’t,’ I admitted, ‘but they might use you to get to me somehow. I was meant to be among those that got poisoned. Just promise me you’ll be wary.’

‘We will, Theon.’

Her use of my real name brought a smile to my lips. Rekala demanded a report of everything that had transpired since our last wave-conversation. Jett waited patiently while I stared into space, conversing with my Rada-kin.

‘Tell Sarlice I think she should leave Tanza,’ I said eventually. ‘I must go. It’s not safe here.’

I caught Rekala’s chortle as she withdrew from the waves. She doubted anything could harm me with both Ciera and Tiaro to help me. A strange sense of uselessness tailed that thought; as if she no longer felt that I needed her. I told myself I’d have time to resolve that later.

For now we needed to locate the far-conjurers and if possible entrap them.

‘How do you propose to do that?’ Ciera questioned. ‘Nobody has even taught you how.’

‘It makes sense,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been thinking about this waverading the Wavekeepers are afraid of. In a way, Anzaii already have that power over the Zeikas.’

‘But Zeikas don’t use the waves,’ Ciera retorted.

‘They invoke demons,’ I said, thinking as I spoke through the waves. ‘And stay focused on their conjurations via some kind of spiritual communion—a link—it must be like the waves.’

‘And you think you can interfere with that link?’ Tiaro pondered, catching on.

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know.’

To Jett I said, ‘I’m going to catch me a dragon.’

To his credit, he didn’t laugh or demand an explanation. He and Ptemais followed Ciera, Tiaro and I as we glided off the shroud platform. We soared straight towards the south corner of Condii where dragons and skyearls spiralled and somersaulted. Intricate patterns of smoke, shroud and flame floated high above the city.

At least a dozen dragons were clearly visible. Still more battled above and below us. Some were protecting formations of four or five with baskets of hot coals and oil in their claws. Several of these oil-bombs were ignited with green flames and dropped. Ciera dodged to avoid one. There was nothing we could do to stop it falling down onto the barracks below.

The emperor skyearl climbed sharply and I felt a swooping pressure in my head. We aimed directly at one of the dragons guarding a group of retreating bombers. It lagged behind, surveying the area immediately around its charges. It did not have a rider. Within moments, Ciera had closed on his prey and clutched it with his foreclaws. Like a great-eagle capturing a sparrow, we then bore it to the ground. I jumped from Ciera’s back as soon as we were grounded, jarring my knees as I did so.

My hands found the slick black hide of the dragon as Ciera fought to hold it still. With a call to Krii, I closed myself off from the real world and concentrated on the spiritual. I sought the demon that enabled the Zeika magic to take place.

My eyes were like a torchfire, sweeping across a barren landscape too long hidden in darkness. The demon could not hide. As soon as I’d found it I sensed the tendril of awareness connecting the dragon to its conjurer.

I plunged myself after the tendril. The dragon began to fade. Tiaro ran beside me in a form I could only describe as ‘catlike’. She chased the demon with her keen eyes and spirit-senses.

In the spirit realm it felt as if I was running with all my strength but getting nowhere. The fleeing demon was like a glowing rope racing across the ground just out of my reach. With it went my chance to locate the Zeika who had called it. Tiaro and I stretched our stride but, always, the rope stayed ahead of us.

‘Krii, help us!’

A rushing wind stirred the plains around us as we ran and the echoing howl of a wolf filled my ears. Padded footfalls sounded behind us and I turned to see the great white wolf hurtling toward and then past us. He pounced on the glowing rope and wrestled it to a halt. Like a dog presenting a half-slain creature to its master, he turned and proffered the glowing rope to me. I grasped it in both hands and yanked.

The demon struggled in my grip, openly terrorised by the presence of the wolf. It tried to imprint random fear onto me, but Tiaro was there to fortify my resolve. I pulled the rope in, hand over hand until the enemy at its end came into view.

A human’s presence in the waves was normally much like hearing or seeing them in real life. But here in this spirit-realm, this Zeika’s appearance was greatly diminished. Like a starving child he hunkered low to the ground in rags. Shackled and chained by the weight of his own cowardice, guilt and poor choices, the Zeika moaned in the agony of pure hatred.

Strong he may be, in the real world, but here his weakness was exposed. Despite his frailty and hindrances, the Zeika rose up to fight me. I drew Fyschs from the sheath at my side and held him at the ready. Curses and threats flew from the Zeika’s mouth. He made casting gestures and ward runes, but his magic did not harm us. Krii watched over me as I laid a hand on the struggling figure. Despite the offer of mercy and forgiveness, he refused, fighting with every ounce of pride he could muster. Dark scratches formed on my arms and face, stinging like poisoned dagger-slashes. The Zeika screamed at me, blinded by his hatred and filled with the thoughts and desires of a dozen demons.

The demons retreated as I raised my other hand to strike. The battle had been won. They frantically tried to leave the retiring vessel to find another. But I crushed them all with one sweep of my razor-toothed sword.

‘It is over for this one,’ Krii said and the mournful howling trailed him out into the bleak darkness.

I opened my eyes to Ciera’s enormous blue one, peering into my face with concern. Fyschs was in one hand and my face ached even though there was not a scratch on me.

‘It is done,’ I whispered huskily. ‘Krii came and we offered the Zeika freedom from the demons. He chose to die instead.’

Ciera chuckled lovingly at me, perplexed and relieved at the same time.

‘All that effort to entrap one conjurer,’ he said. ‘How will we ever succeed?’

‘Don’t be a pessimist,’ Tiaro scolded him. ‘Krii has shown us the way.’

‘What in the trees has just happened?’ Jett had clambered down from Ptemais’ back and crawled to my side.

I tried to explain it with words, but a feeling of pure joy bubbled out of me. I found myself laughing with relief and astonishment. Tears streamed from my eyes, for joy and then for sorrow. The emotion of encountering the spirit of Krii so closely made my entire body shudder. And hearing him speak! This wasn’t something that many Kriites experienced. The sight of him padding away through the darkened plains made my heart turn, but my spirit filled with purpose. Krii was still with us. He would be there any time we called.

‘Krii showed us the way,’ I said aloud for Jett’s sake. ‘We should let the other Anzaii know how to do that.’

‘What did you do?’ Jett asked.

I replied somewhat breathlessly, ‘I couldn’t really see the point in dispelling. They’ll just conjure something else.’

Ciera scratched his side with the claws on one back leg. ‘He used the far-conjurer’s link to the dragon to locate him in the spirit-realm and entrap him.’

‘You killed him?’ Jett pondered.

Before I could explain further, a deep growl-hiss emanated from my Sleffion-kin. ‘Zeikas nearby,’ Ciera warned.

He advanced into the valley before us with a deafening roar. Dark shapes were crowded in the sunken ground before the city motte. Ciera drew one of his spears and swung it before him like an immense scythe. The dark shapes fell back, uncertain perhaps.

‘Careful, there may be more,’ I said.

He jumped forward suddenly, spreading his wings to carry him across the intervening space. His spear swept across the ground again, knocking at least six men flying. From out of the darkness behind the mob came fifteen theros. The hairy beasts knuckle-ran at Ciera all at once and slashed at him with their long sabre-like claws. Despite their much smaller size, the theros occupied Ciera long enough for the remaining Zeikas to retreat.

The sound of Ciera’s teeth chopping the theros in half filled the air. Growls and screams accompanied the battle and black blood sprayed over Ciera’s purple-blue fur and feathers until they glistened like oil. His spear broke in the stout body of one of the theros. He threw down the haft and roared thunderously. The final two theros ignored the warning, throwing themselves at him with reckless abandon. He swept them together, knocking them senseless. He pressed them to the ground with his front feet and beckoned me forward.

His laboured breathing steamed the night, leaving small platforms of shroud in the air around him. The animal stink of his exertion engulfed me, fuelling a sense of rage that was totally inhuman. The corpses of the theros he’d slain evaporated into nothingness before my eyes. Even the blood hissed, popped and bubbled away. The slain Zeikas, however, had stiffened already; some had shrivelled beyond the age of an ordinary human, the last vestiges of Zei’s ‘gift’ of long life gone forever. Even now they paid the ultimate price for their choice as finally they met Zei on his terms alone.

I clenched my fists with my arms out straight, stretching my muscles and trying to vent some of my pent-up fury. The flax cloak felt heavy on my shoulders and my face stung even though there were no true injuries; perhaps the psychological effects of being attacked in the spirit-realm were stronger than I anticipated. Still, I approached the writhing theros that were still alive.

I extended my hands and touched both of the hot, moist bodies. One vanished under my touch so rapidly that I didn’t have a chance to entrap the far-conjurer. I dived after the other; struggling to swim through the murkiness of the spirit-realm to locate his mind. I caught him like a fish, but he slipped easily out of my grip. The scenery around us blurred and the water receded, leaving behind the dark, dry desert that I had encountered before. The chalky red dirt stretched for miles in every direction, dotted with small and large stones. Severe snow-capped mountains blockaded the horizon and lightning danced in the cloud-bruised sky.

Unlike the first conjurer I had faced, this one turned to face me with a sneer. His form was somewhat distorted to my eyes in that place; he wavered before me like a black flag in a moonless night. Looking down, I saw that my boot was firmly placed over a corner of his robe, pinning him in place. I realised that this was the tenuous link with which I held him. As he turned, his body came right up against me, yet I dared not move and take my foot off his robe.

Other books

Anne Stuart by Prince of Swords
Huckleberry Hill by Jennifer Beckstrand
First Strike by Craig Simpson