‘There must be something we can do to stop them,’ I said.
‘Communication is our greatest advantage,’ she pointed out. ‘The A.S.T.R. gifts allow us to communicate over impressive distances. Even if it’s just between towns within one realm, that’s instant mind-to-mind communication. The Zeikas don’t have that.’
‘No, but they do have scryers,’ I replied.
She wagged her finger at me. ‘Ah but scryers can only spy over very short distances and they have to mark the person or place they want to scry beforehand.’
‘They can always enslave Anzaii, Sleffion or Rada to relay messages by threatening to kill others,’ I responded. ‘I’m certain that’s what happened to some of the stolen Jarians.’
‘How?’ she asked.
‘The very first level of Zeika initiation is a warder,’ I began. ‘Wards can be used to block the use of our magic. They just ward one relayer, tell their message to the other and get them to send it. Then they ward the second relayer and get the receiver at the other end to repeat it back to the first relayer to ensure the message was received unaltered.’
She stuck out her bottom lip and nodded, seemingly impressed. A slight flush covered the skin of her face and her deep blue eyes held mine. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. Henter was strapped to her back alongside a quiver of black arrows. It reminded me of the makeshift clasp I had made from the quiver belt for Sarlice’s shoulder injury just over seven weeks ago. It seemed like a much longer period of time than that.
‘You’re wearing your warbow,’ I observed.
‘I try not to go anywhere without Henter,’ she responded, ‘and we’ve got a meeting with a historian in five minutes.’
‘You may yet need a warbow to get us out of that,’ I returned.
She gave me a small smile and gestured to get up. With a groan, I dragged myself up and pulled on a loose white shirt that was crisscrossed from torso to neck with leather rope. I strapped on my sheath and slid Fyschs into it.
My heart raced as Sarlice stepped up to me, but she merely flicked a speck of dirt off my shoulder. I watched the light bouncing off her hair as she walked away from me.
Rekala sensed the racing of my blood, but she clamped down on her curiosity, leaving me to my thoughts. Together, the four of us exited our quarters and made our way through the Hall of Hallows. Once outside, the warmth of the day beat down upon us and I wished I could go shirtless again. It was humid in this low land. Our feet crunched on the rocky ground.
‘We’ve been invited to celebrate the Festival of Rebirth with the locals in two week’s time,’ Sarlice said.
‘Very well,’ I murmured, not sure how I felt about that. It was nice of the Lantaideans to include us, but I was still raw from the loss of Jaria where I had celebrated most of the rebirth festivals of my young life.
Aside from New Day, these five days were the most important days of the year for Kriites all over the world. Day one was remembered for the death of Krii at the altar of the Catacombs of Krii nearly seven hundred years ago. It was generally a day of solitary reflection and fasting. The middle three days were meant for intense dissection of the holy scrolls and discussion of our triune god. During this time, the Kriites remembered the three days of suffering Krii went through at the whim of Zeidarb. The fifth day was a jovial celebration in commemoration of the rebirth of Krii. It often began with a consecration ceremony, which allowed new or young Kriites to invite the wolf to run with them.
I played with Tiaro in my earlobe.
‘Do you think we’re meant to be here?’ I asked her.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘If you mean, “Do I think Jaria was destined to fall and we were destined to come here all along,” the answer is “No”.’
‘I don’t understand…’
‘I think Krii wanted us to come to Tanza, but I don’t think he caused or condoned what happened to Jaria.’
‘Then why…’
‘It’s like Ciera said, Krii will not interfere directly with Zei until the End Times. Until then, we have to contend with all the evils and all the challenges of this world.’
‘Doesn’t that mean we could fail?’
‘Yes, I think it does,’ Tiaro confirmed. ‘Destiny doesn’t mean whatever happens was meant to happen. It means there is an intended purpose, but it’s up to us to discover it and carry it out.’
‘Well, I hope and pray Krii reveals what I’m supposed to do soon,’ I replied.
Our ‘meeting with a historian’ turned out to be a three-hour-long seminar on the battle readyness of Tanza. Devlan and Gieri were among the twenty or so citizens participating. Sarlice and I sat on two intricately carved wooden chairs and the two Rada-kin lay at our feet. After a few minutes, a man with long greying hair and a beard came to stand at the front of the room.
‘My name is Benzar,’ he began, in an earnest voice. ‘I’m a father of six, grandfather of two and my skyearl died five years ago in battle. I am an Anzaii, Sleffion and I have been a statistician for Tanza’s army, the Defenders, for thirty years. It won’t surprise you, then, that the first thing I want you to learn is the importance of gathering population and army statistics.’
There was a humorous murmur among the audience. Benzar’s way of speaking included many short pauses and piercing looks.
‘At the last estimation,’ he began, ‘the population of Tanza was over 170,000 with significantly more men than women. The biggest cities were Centan, with over 50,000 inhabitants, Lowford: 23,000 and Condii: 22,000.’
‘I’d wager you discarded the latest stats for Lantaid,’ a brightly-dressed man called out from my left.
‘Aye, Paetlan, we may as well have,’ Benzar affirmed. Looking back at the rest of us, he explained, ‘Paetlan is from Watercrag. In recent times, Lantaid’s population more than doubled with the inclusion of the refugees from Watercrag, many of whom are Tolites skilled in weapon-craft. We don’t know for sure, but estimates of the new population of Lantaid are around 24,000.’
Benzar went on. ‘The statistics we have of Tanza’s army, the Defenders, are much more exact. Knowing precisely how many skyearls, human-warriors and animal-kin are available in one place, at one time and what skills they have, is vital to planning Tanza’s strategies of defence.’
He spoke at length about these groups and the various ways they were deployed as part of the Defender army. Tanza had no standing attack force, but strike forces were implemented in times of war when necessary. As much as Tanzans would prefer to remain peaceful, the Zeikas relentlessly sought to overtake the land.
Throughout Tanza’s history, the Zeikas had invaded dozens of times and even managed to take control of the low-population, coastal cities of Lokshole and Lander’s Bay four times. Ciera and the king and queen had personally led the force that had retaken those cities three years ago. In an effort to rid their land of Zeikas once and for all, they had shown no mercy. With Anzaii teaming up to dispel the Zeika conjurations and magic effects, the Defenders had cornered and killed more than twenty thousand Zeikas. Less than half that number had managed to escape aback their conjured dragons. The funeral pyres had burned for months and great pillars had been erected to celebrate the victory and remember those who had perished.
After that battle, a new appointment of high commander had been created. The nine commanders who had lead their battle groups of some 3,000 each were awarded land and fortresses at the nine major cities of Tanza except for Centan: Kovain, New Rosenvale, Lowford, Highford, Zoen, Solix, Vassen, Lantaid and Condii. This ensured their ability to keep and train their battle groups in preparation for future attacks on any of the major cities.
The chain of command went from the king and queen to the prince and princess to the high commander, to the commanders and then to the unit commanders.
The A.S.T.R. rankings ran parallel and supported the chain of command. For example an A.S.T. commander held more authority than an S.T. commander. There was an authority level points system whereby Anzaii counted for 15 points, Sleffion for 10, Tolite for 5 and Rada for 5, meaning an A.S. commander ranked higher than an S.T.R. commander. Those without gifts weren’t excluded from a position of command, but those with A.S.T.R. ranks often got promoted sooner.
The status of the skyearls was generally dependant on the position of their human Sleffion-kin, with the exception of Ciera. As the emperor he lead the skyearls and was due the same level of respect as the high commander. He was allowed to give orders to human commanders and lower ranks, but among skyearls he was free to ask anyone to do his bidding. If a conflict arose between an order from the high commander, or a monarch, and Ciera, the skyearl was honour bound to obey the human because ultimately the skyearls were in service to all humans. I wondered what authority I was entitled to simply by being Ciera’s kin. Until I knew more about the Defenders I decided not to test it.
When Benzar called an end to the seminar, Sarlice and I walked to the Tolite barracks in the new part of town. Tivac had arranged a series of sword-fighting lessons for me, and Sarlice had offered to help.
‘Do we have to do this?’ I moaned. ‘I’ve never been one for structured learning.’
‘It’s about time you learned how to wield your new sword,’ Sarlice jibed. ‘My Tolite-kin is a warbow, yet I can still best you at sword-fighting.’
I rested my hand on the hilt of my Tolite-kin. There was an answering tingle from Fyschs, but nothing resembling coherent thought.
A porter at the barracks directed us to the adjacent sparring room, an immense chamber with hard, yellow dirt packed into the floor. A couple came out to greet us, introducing themselves and Miya and Harlan, our trainers. They each wore loose pants and a tight suit of upper-body armour. Where Harlan was blond, tall and broad, Miya was dark, short and squat. Despite their differences both of them were experts with a sword. Their Tolite-kins gleamed at their sides; Harlan’s was a black broadsword and Miya’s was a razor-sharp rapier.
There were two other learners, two young Lantaidian men named Salthan and Mach. Salthan, who was rangy and olive-skinned with curly black hair, wielded a steel shortsword with a ruby set into the pommel. Mach was a heavyset man with a gold-coloured broadsword. I nodded to them as we were introduced, then we each fitted our own armour from the rack against the wall.
Before we began, Harlan inspected each of our weapons, commenting on the quality of their make. Sarlice explained that she was here to help me and showed him her simple steel longsword. When Harlan saw my Tolite-kin, he whistled.
‘It’s a pretty weapon,’ he observed. ‘If looks can kill, you might be in luck. It would have been made by Alguhzal. He’s creative when it comes to swords.’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘It appeared on my belt when I came through the Tanzan chasm.’
‘Alguhzal puts four or five weapons into the chest every year,’ Harlan explained, ‘or at least he did when he was in Watercrag. Since he’s been here in Lantaid, his production has slowed.’
‘The chest?’ I queried.
‘Tolite weaponsmiths make many weapons to sell, but ten percent of their work is offered up to Krii,’ Harlan said. ‘The weapons go into a magical chest, which can never be opened. They appear months or years later with new Tolites who pass through the Maitulae.’
‘The Curtains of Battle,’ Sarlice explained, ‘which must have been integrated with the barrier shield since the Tolites came here.’
‘Yes,’ Miya agreed. ‘The Maitulae is governed by Krii. It is he who chooses when to bestow a Tolite-kin and which weapon suits each person.’
‘I’ve never been great with swords,’ I stammered.
‘If Krii is to be believed, you will be,’ Miya said.
‘Do you know his name yet?’ Harlan asked.
‘He is Fyschs,’ I declared.
Harlan stroked the flat of the blue blade and tapped one of the gold teeth sticking out near the end.
‘You and I will spar first,’ he announced. ‘You others watch closely for his weaknesses.’
We wrapped our blades with bandages so as to draw no blood. Harlan and I bobbed our heads to each other, then he came at me with strength and speed. He got through my guard easily, disarming me within minutes. He picked up my sword and gestured for me to try again.
Sarlice watched my every move, making me falter several times. I was beginning to think I’d remain useless with a sword forever. As we fought, the older man criticised, and remarked on, my movements. He explained, between bursts of swordplay, that the key to survival was in knowing exactly how to use each part of the body. How to make it move without even thinking about it.
He flicked his blade upwards. I blocked it, but my feet were at an odd angle so I was thrown off balance. Harlan twisted the sword around and drove it downward into Fyschs hilt, which fell from my hands.
‘You lost your balance,’ he said, bending to retrieve my fallen weapon again. ‘Sarlice, you take over here and show Talon what you know of footwork.’
She and I moved out onto the sparring arena and left Harlan and Miya to coach Mach and Salthan.
‘When we learn sword-fighting in Lyth, each move has a special name to help you remember it,’ Sarlice said. ‘Plant your feet in line with your shoulders, bend your knees a little and hold your sword straight up in front of you.’
She winked when I had it right. ‘We call this “candle maker”. It’s the basic defensive position from which you can execute a number of blocks or attacks. It is useful to know which defences or attacks to use when your opponent’s body is in a certain position.’
She lifted her sword above her head with both hands and held it as if to strike.
‘If I did this,’ she began, ‘what would you do?’
I moved one foot forward and lifted my blade up to meet hers as she brought it slowly down.
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘You just performed a move we call “burning the bread” against my attack, which was “chopping wood”. “Chopping wood” is rarely used because it leaves the attacker open. Instead of “burning the bread” you could have executed “pig on a spit” and stabbed me straight through the heart.’
I grimaced. ‘I don’t like having to name everything. Isn’t it better just to do it?’