02 Strike of the Skyearls - chapters 16-24

 

 Free high fantasy novel - Strike of the Skyearls - Book 2 of The Psion Saga

Chapters 16-24 (Buy book or go back to chapters 1-4)

Chapter Sixteen—Division

Jaalta’s searching in the waves that night proved fruitless. There were far too many people in Condii and the surrounding area for her to interrogate everyone. And if Corypha had moved beyond the reach of her human wave-seeking ability, she would never find him.

Jett and Tyba were visiting the sickened survivors. They had left me to eat a light breakfast in solitude. After I’d finished I went to the practice yard at the barracks to put some more scratches in the wooden dummies that were there. Fighting continued outside the city but Ciera and I hadn’t been deployed yet. In the meantime I wanted to ensure I would be ready to use my Tolite-kin if the need arose. I was at it for some time before Captain Dathan came out to greet me.

‘I’m sorry we weren’t able to find Corypha.’ He looked worn and haggard as he stood clutching a strong brew of coffee.

Making no reply, I performed a series of slow turns with Fyschs held out as far away from my body as possible. The weight brought a pleasant tension to my muscles. Joints popped as I stretched.

I performed the manoeuvres Sarlice had taught me. At first I moved with deliberate slowness, increasing the pace until I was ducking one way, swiping the other, leaping sideways, thrusting up, parrying low, striking high. My breath came quickly and I made no attempt to hide it from the captain.

He watched me intently.

‘What’s on your mind?’ I asked, between bouts with my wooden opponent.

He drew a deep breath. ‘I stand here in Condii with more Zeikas than have ever sieged here before and yet I can’t stop thinking about Lantaid, The Sunbark Cities and the fords. More than half the army that was spotted near Zoen has marched toward Lantaid. That’s double the defender soldiers stationed in Lantaid.’

I paused in my movements—cold shivers travelling down my spine. Anxiety made my head spin as I thought about Sarlice, Rekala and Kestric in Lantaid. I hoped they would head for the chasm as I had asked.

‘There are a great many Tolite warriors in Lantaid,’ I said, ‘and some of the best war-strategists in the realm. Surely they will hold off the enemy despite their greater numbers.’

‘Perhaps,’ Dathan agreed. ‘If I know Commander Fostron, he will not let the Zeikas get near the town. He will meet them out on the Hills of Everstain. Many a battle has been fought and won there by us using the crags and canyons as launching platforms and the forest-covered valleys as cover.’

‘Trees be with them,’ I said.

‘And with the fords,’ Dathan agreed.

‘You have family going there?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘You’re perceptive. My brother normally lives in Ruhor Lair. As with The Sunbark Cities they’ve had to shroud their home-town and abandon it. He’s on his way to Lowford as we speak, with children and their carers in carts. Last I heard there were warriors holding off Zeikas close behind. As you know there are 10,000 Zeikas besieging Highford, which has a smaller contingent of defenders than Lowford. If they take Highford, I am not certain what will happen. It will not bode well for the realm.’

‘You wish to be everywhere at once,’ I murmured, thinking of Ciera, who felt the same way.

He nodded. ‘Our economy is already starting to collapse. Without the constant supply of food from our farms, soon it will not be possible to even feed all our people, let alone defend them.’

‘Why do the Zeikas want both Tanza and Telby?’ I asked. ‘Do you know what they’re up to?’

‘Tanza and Telby are the greatest nations Chryne has ever seen. And the Zeikas want that glory for themselves and their demon lord.’

‘I met with King Flale when I was in Telby,’ I said. ‘But I still don’t know why he has allied with the Zeikas. It seems foolish.’

‘Word on the waves is that King Flale and his daughter Denliyan are scheming with the Zeikas to expand Telby’s borders and increase their resources.’

‘Warmongers,’ I exclaimed. ‘They’ll only bring terror upon their lands.’

Dathan took on a stealthy tone of voice, ‘And the Princess Denliyan remains an aggressive voice at court, even in her state.’

‘State?’ I queried, stomach clenching.

‘She is with child,’ he replied. ‘I thought you would have heard. It’s been in news waves for weeks. Been married a few years now, but no baby until now. Having a descendant secures her succession, in a time when their hold on the monarchy is ever-more tenuous.’

I am to be a father! Conflicting emotions of wonder and despair assailed me. My baby would be born and grow apart from me… and there seemed nothing I could do about it.

Dathan caught me by the shoulder. ‘Are you hale, lad? Didn’t eat any of that poisoned food, I hope.’

I wiped my brow. ‘A new little life,’ I stammered, ‘amid so much death. It’s hard to fathom.’

‘Indeed.’

Over the next few weeks the Zeikas attacked the southern corner of Condii with relentless force. Though their numbers were depleted by an endless barrage of arrows, spears and ballista fire from within Condii, they rarely let up for more than a few hours. It was only later that we realised this force had been totally sacrificed in order to gain a foothold in Condii. Their lives had been forfeit from the beginning.

Under pressure from several places around Tanza to send reinforcements, King Crystom had finally agreed to divide the army at Centan. Over 4000 were sent to Condii, over 2000 to Highford and over 6000 to Lantaid, leaving about 4300 to defend Centan itself. The choice to divide the army was debated by some but, considering it would take about eight days for the armies to reach Lantaid and Highford, there was no time for indecision.

I heard from Ciera that Sarlice and Thita were among those sent to Lantaid. I fervently hoped they would join the Rada-kin and lay low. Even the journey back to Lantaid posed numerous threats. Tens of thousands of Zeikas were closing on them, behind the refugees from The Sunbark Cities.

Every day there were messengers and refugees arriving from some part of the realm and news came in torrents over the waves.

In Condii two of the south-east towers had fallen about the same time the survivors from The Sunbark Cities arrived within our walls. Some wondered if those people had walked all this way only to die with us.

Only about half the civilians had made it, despite the efforts of the reinforcements from Centan. More than 2000 defender warriors from The Sunbark Cities had given their lives holding back the Zeikas long enough for the civilians to reach Condii. Wails of grief and devastation rang through the now-crowded city and yet the warriors fought on, trying not to lose heart.

With two of the southern towers destroyed, the barracks were more vulnerable. Dragons bombarded it constantly with oil barrels bursting with green flames. After retreating to the safety of Condii Fortress, Commander Varal had ordered the entire strike force to gather at the barracks to banish, dispel and entrap.

Jaalta and I had explained the entrapment power as best we could to the other Anzaii. Conjured beasts had to be trapped in the waking world first, enabling the Anzaii to touch them without risk to their lives. So far nobody else had been able to do it.

‘They probably need an artefact from an Ancient Sapphire Tree to learn it,’ Tiaro said.

A sketchy new scroll of Anzaii abilities had been drawn up, now covered with our combined notes and many crossed out words. We were rarely resting at the same time, so my aunt and I took to leaving each other notes and ideas on the scroll that was pinned to the wall outside Pivorn’s house.

I stood on the shroud one evening with Jett, Ptemais, Tiaro and Ciera by my side. Prince Tyba and Amadeus were nearby, overseeing the Strike Force’s actions. There was a whirlwind of Flying Archers above us, literally blowing my cloak and hair in small eddies.

Reaching out with my mind, I latched onto a flying dragon with a rigidly focused rider. Sensing the link between them was effortless now and I welcomed the feeling of power that accompanied it.

I chose to introduce confusion this time and gently plucked the dragon’s invisible reins from the Zeika’s clutches. Now in partial control of the beast, I made it lurch sidewards and away, crashing into the dragon and rider beside it. Dark green flames belched from its mouth as I impelled it to kill its own squadron.

The Zeikas soon fell victim to the flames, the viciously sharp claws and the exploding oil barrels their own dragons were holding onto. The stink of sizzling reptilian flesh accompanied the cries of outrage from the falling Zeikas. Those who survived were quickly put to death by ground troops in the barracks below.

‘A fine effort, Taeon,’ Tyba congratulated me. There weren’t many Anzaii who could do what I had learned so the prince and his guards were often nearby to protect me.

It was all we could do to hold off the Zeikas in time for the Centan army to regroup inside our walls and lend their assistance. The army at Lantaid likewise struggled.

The battle at Everstain raged on and there were whisperings on the waves that the reinforcements from Centan would be too late.

The other half of that Zeika legion had followed the fleeing civilians here and were reforming somewhere to the south of Condii. The 2000 or so defender troops that had been sent from Centan to help Lowford and Highford now faced an army of over 10,000. With Highford’s meagre force of some 2500, there was little hope of victory. The commander of the more highly populated Lowford had pledged to send warriors. It was hoped that their combined forces, and sound military practice, would be enough to hold off the Zeikas.

In total the Zeikas had assaulted Tanza with over 40,000 men and there was no indication that they had finished penetrating our borders. The occasional scout managed to glimpse still more Zeikas gathered in several places around the outside of the Tanzan border, waiting for their turn to slick themselves with blood and pass through the barrier.

Pyres billowed smoke into the air around these places where countless Kriites were being drained alive, many to death. These camps were heavily guarded and the border patrols that remained had found no way to stop this atrocity. I had suggested to Tyba that he sends me and Ciera, but this was briskly dismissed by Commander Varal. It was true that I was simply too new at what I was doing.

The Zeikas also seemed to have a limitless supply of ground troops. They moved in enormous semi-circles, enclosing the Condiite ground troops who strayed far enough away from the protection of the towers.

Near the southern corner of the city the battle raged with the most ferocity. Watching through the eyes of confused dragons, I flew low over the battle, trying to find the most powerful Zeikas and kill them. Several times I saw a render who could tear a person limb from limb with a simple touch and a verbal incantation.

One time I saw a render surrounded by four heavyset warders who were casting blocking wards nearly constantly. Theros and death hawks prowled nearby, moving aside when the render expressed a desire to step into the battle. Condiite after Condiite fell before him, making a trail of shredded and mangled corpses behind.

Not a single arrow could penetrate the invisible shield the warders created. Even a flock of wyvern Rada-kin that dove into the group were brought up short and smashed to pieces by weapons both physical and demonic. Perhaps a falling Zeika and dragon would go through that ward-shield, I thought.

Using my powers I directed the dragon to climb steeply upwards. The armoured lizardine body somersaulted and dived straight at the render, the rider’s screams reaching my ears from far away. The render leaned down to kill a Condiite at his feet, not hearing the threat from above. In that instant, the Zeika and dragon crashed down.

My senses reeled as the link that I had violated suddenly vanished.

Tyba caught me just before I hit the surface of the shroud. He peered over the edge where Ciera was looking and nodded with approval. The render lay beneath the smoking ruin of the conjured dragon, which slowly melted into a black pool and bubbled away. The warders looked around in surprise.

Seeing the render’s crushed and bent body brought me no triumph, only a grim determination that I needed to do more.

‘You have surprised us all, Taeon.’ Tyba helped me regain my footing.

Gasping from the effort of controlling the dragon, I stepped back from the edge of the shroud and wiped sweat from my face and brow. Ciera continued to defend the area while I recovered. After a while, even Jett and Ptemais had to fight off dragons and death hawks that were coming perilously close to our position.

I felt distant from it all, as if each time I became connected with a conjuration I lost some of myself to its baseness. It disgusted and discouraged me to become one with such creatures, and to dish out death from afar, even though I knew I was helping to save Tanzan lives.

‘Stand aside, Taeon!’ Jett shouted.

A tyrak lurched toward us, screaming as its conjurer died astride it. I leaped sideways to get out of the way, observing the fatal wound across the Zeika’s throat. The tyrak’s long claws slashed and dragged at the air, reaching for me as it staggered. Its footfalls on the solid base of the shroud were heavy, the claws clicking inches from my legs. It toppled sideways off the shroud moments before vanishing from existence, the corpse of its conjurer shrivelling as it fell down alone.

I got to my feet noticing that many of the other Anzaii who had been deployed with me on the shroud were occupied by dragons and death hawks. There were only eighteen Anzaii left in the strike force and some were on a rest cycle. With Ciera, Tiaro, Tyba and Amadeus still by my side, I forced myself to turn my back on them and concentrate on the Zeika forces below. That was my duty, where my skills were needed most.

Repeatedly, through the night, the Zeikas moved catapults into position and fired on the outer four towers near our gate, testing their defences. The gate was heavily fortified, but the Zeikas knew that once they had control of it, Condii would fall. It seemed like they would sacrifice entire legions to take the city.

Our army’s commanders used far more conservative strategies, which left us all feeling wing-clipped. Ciera did not begrudge his position by my side, but I could sense his restless fury and the burning desire to snap his enemies between his teeth and crush them into the ground with his enormous keltoar paws. However, we all knew it would be death to go out there alone and the Tanzans valued individual lives whereas the Relts cared not for any who may fall. Ciera mastered his emotions and together we focused our efforts on strategic defence and staying alive.

As I was about to choose my next target, a third tower was breached by the catapults. The stones on one side collapsed inwards. A horde of firewyrms and at least a dozen Zeika ground troops pushed past the Condiite footsoldiers and ran into the tower. The towers to the north-west and south of the fallen tower fired upon the now in-range Zeikas.

But it was too late; they had already made it inside. Several of the spear-skyearls on top of the tower allowed their Sleffion-kin to mount and took off into the air. Using shrouds to create airflow these skyearls hovered near the top of the tower raining down spears and arrows on any Zeikas who emerged.

I could only presume the Condiites left inside the tower had been killed. A ballista was wheeled quickly into the tower and the Zeikas on top doubled in number. Within minutes they had shot down or flamed all but one of the hovering spear-skyearls, who flew away like a whipped dog.

The ballista appeared on top of the tower promising a speedy demise for any skyearls that attempted to retake it. Two mangonels were also ushered in by more Zeika ground troops below. They were being killed so quickly by the other two Condiite towers that bodies now blocked the collapsed entry to the tower. In many cases their caped and armoured remains quivered and shrivelled in upon themselves, leaving brownish husks more than bodies.

The incoming Zeikas kicked the corpses out of the way with disdain.

A fresh surge of dragons bombarded the two defending towers with flaming oil-barrels and the Zeikas on their backs hurled fireballs and poison-darts at the humans and skyearls. While the Condiites in those towers were partially distracted, more Zeikas carried rock-missiles into the fallen tower and knocked out stones from around two of the window-slits to give the mangonels room to fire. As soon as they had done this, the Condiites within the other towers realised what was about to happen.

Not only were they barraged by fire from above, but the missiles from the fallen tower now threatened to breach their walls and admit the swarming firewyrms that plagued the ground level. It would only be a matter of time before the Zeikas had captured more of the towers. They would use that same method to take all of Condii. In my mind I could see the towers falling one by one over a period of days or even weeks. While we were able to use their own conjurations against them, the Zeikas had learned how to use our own defences against us.

‘We must do something they don’t expect,’ I said suddenly.

Ciera caught my meaning, but Tyba wasn’t so sure.

‘Why don’t we take the battle to them?’ I asked. ‘Threaten their defences and supplies.’

‘It would be suicide to leave the safety of our tower network,’ Tyba replied, thoughts racing behind his eyes.

I knew he would consider my plan, if I could come up with one.

‘I need to know more about the Zeika camp to the south. Where do they keep their oil barrels?’

Tyba and Amadeus exchanged a look. I caught the vaguest sense of interest from the prince’s Sleffion-kin—though I was sure he was trying to block me from his mind. A distracted look crossed his furred face and his eyes strained to see into the distance.

‘I have conversed with Reen,’ Amadeus said after a while. ‘He carries Jaalta nigh over the Zeikas even now. She uses her powers in the waves to glean information from any who have unguarded minds. She reports that oil barrels are spread out in several stockpiles throughout their encampment.’

‘If we could cause an explosion of fire somehow,’ I began, ‘the wood barrels would break and whole piles would catch fire.’

‘How could we do that?’ Tyba wondered. ‘We are not Zeikas that we may tell fire to go this way and that.’

‘I’ll think of a way,’ I replied with determination. Flint and steel? I thought. No. Too slow. I could not send a lit lamp into the waves and bring it with me in animal form. No Rada could do that. Could I steal a torch after infiltrating each of the camps? I would need wicks.

Tyba also pondered for a time and then said, ‘Ultimately, it is not only up to me. We must consult with the others.’

‘Are you not the prince, and in your father’s absence, the ruler?’

‘We are not a tyranny like the royal family of Telby,’ he responded.

When I raised my eyebrows at him, he added, ‘I have great respect for the commander of Condii. We could do with a rest, anyway. Come with me to Condii Fortress and we will see what Varal and the strategists think. They may have already considered it.’

‘Jaalta and Reen will meet us there,’ Amadeus said.

Chapter Seventeen—Determination

Ciera and I followed Tyba and Amadeus through the thick of the sky-battle. Ciera dived and wheeled around the struggling bodies, throwing a spear or biting a dragon when the opportunity arose. Yet he didn’t deviate from our course and we were soon flying low over the houses and halls behind the barracks. We crossed Spiral Lane South and a small river before reaching Condii City Central. Usually a bustling marketplace, even at this hour, it was empty, except for a few hurrying groups. A large vineyard to our right gave way to the moat that surrounded Condii Fortress. Five towers stood some distance away on the outside of the moat, with a sixth on the island with the fortress itself.

As we came closer, I could see that the fortress was constructed from the same steel, diamond and grey stone as the front gate and walls of Condii. A single, immense red flag with a flying skyearl and rider billowed from the top of the main tower. Above us, the dragons kept their distance as spear-skyearls and mangonels were always in position around the fortress.

A dozen squadrons of flying archers soared to our south and west. It was a constant job for the flying archers to keep the dragons from attacking civilians in the town below. In several places around the city, their numbers had become overwhelming and Zeikas were being ferried into the city by dragons.

As we flew I became aware of a multitude of Kriites who needed assistance, both with my natural senses and in the waves. I stretched out through the waves and confused any dragons I could reach. Too many things demanded my attention. If I confused or dispelled this dragon, then that one would make it to the ground.

If I took the time to capture that death hawk, hold it still and attempt to entrap the far-conjurer then Ciera and I would not be able to fly in and rescue the family trapped behind a tavern by two hulking theros.

Everywhere I looked there was destruction. Flames reached up from storehouses and barns all over Condii.

Ignoring my hurricane of thoughts and commands, Ciera arrowed straight for the fortress. His mouth hung open with the strain of his flight and Amadeus had fallen somewhat behind. As soon as we reached the island, Ciera landed on a platform on top of the main building. His panting caused the dust on the platform to billow.

There were Condiites in every direction, all rushing to do one job or another. Ciera roared angrily as he stretched his wings, expressing the depth of our worry and frustration.

Having been alerted by his own Sleffion-kin, who had conversed with Amadeus on the waves, Commander Varal came out onto the platform and bowed before Ciera.

‘Emperor Ciera, Master Psion Taeon, we welcome you,’ he said in a deep, booming voice.

The man was of medium height with a very broad chest and bulging muscles. He wore no armour; clearly a man who knew his place was not on the battlefront. He shook my hand vigorously as Tyba and Amadeus touched down.

Several Condiites wound a crank that made the human-sized doorway behind Varal expand into a huge archway that Ciera could walk through. Varal and Tyba exchanged urgent words as we hurried down the polished wood hallway.

I noticed groups of messengers in all of the rooms we passed. Signs above each doorway indicated they were divided into cities and inside I could see that many of the messengers were Rada. They sat in varying states of trance, listening and speaking with their minds. Others were rapidly recounting what they had been told to scribes or other people, some with wildly swinging arms. Voices were raised in every part of the building, making it difficult to hear what any one person was saying.

A surprising feeling of elation was building within the waves. Human voices lifted in whoops of delight. I caught on to the good news via the waves. The Zeikas attacking Lantaid had been defeated at the Hills of Everstain. A success at last!

Ciera and I stopped when we reached the glass-walled vista, the main area of Condii Fortress where Varal and his strategists now met. There was not a single pillar obstructing our view over the city and the panels of glass were so fine they were almost flat—unlike most windows I had seen before, these ones were easy to see through.

The island and its fortress were up high enough to afford a view over all of Condii. I could even see the front gates in the distant south west. Missiles were being launched periodically from the towers around the fortress, but rarely made their mark. With so many shrouds in the sky above the city, it was difficult to perceive how many skyearls battled, on high, but the cacophony in the waves indicated there were thousands of Sleffion-kin up there. There would be other skyearls I could not hear as well, ones with no human Sleffion.

‘Close that down, Taeon,’ Tiaro suggested. ‘You need to focus here.’

I made an effort to block the waves from my mind.

‘Please, take your fill,’ Varal said, making a sweeping gesture at a table laden with jugs of sweet-nectar, cellar-cooled water, wine, bowls of soup, cheese wheels and trenchers of meat. Tyba and I were both dehydrated and famished so we took up the offer without hesitation.

There were strategists seated at a round table with a stone-carved model of Condii on it. A skyearl was carving a new map of the land with his claws, showing where the Zeika encampments were. Many other humans and skyearls paced around the table discussing ideas with each other and scrawling notes and diagrams on scrolls of vellum set before them.

A messenger entered the hall and spoke fervently to one of the strategists, ‘Ervan, the Zeikas have taken a fourth one of the outer towers.’ I missed the rest of what he said. Ervan waved to get Commander Varal’s attention. Most of the other strategists paused to participate.

‘Another tower has fallen,’ Ervan said. ‘The Zeikas are using them to attack our ground troops before they can reach the south west corner.’

Varal marched over to the round table, examined the blue and green armies that were positioned in the south west corner and made some adjustments to represent what he had just been told.

‘Well? It’s up to us,’ he snapped. ‘You’re meant to be some of the best strategists in Tanza. Come on and strategise.’

Several of them began talking at once.

Varal gestured at one human. ‘Sigthan, your thoughts first.’

Sigthan stood up and moved to his side. Pointing at the model, she explained how having our civilians so spread out was allowing the Zeikas to keep our flight squadrons separated.

‘If we are to defeat this legion we must recall all flight squadrons and direct them to the gates and retake or destroy those towers,’ she said.

Looking out through the dome, Varal made a sweeping gesture. ‘And allow our children and their carers to be killed? There are far too many civilians here now to gather them all in one place.’

‘Varal, if I may,’ Tyba began. Varal nodded. ‘We have ground troops, Rada and cavalry at the gate, trying to take back the towers. Why not recall them into the town and send the flight squadrons out to the gate?’

Several of the strategists shook their heads, but it was Varal who spoke. ‘That would leave the dragons free to send their oil barrels down upon the city from on high. What good can ground troops do against dragons?’

‘Then take away their oil barrels,’ I said boldly.

All eyes turned to me, some roving up and down.

‘This is our new master psion, Taeon,’ Tyba said. ‘You will have heard about him in missives from Centan.’

There were several nods and ‘ayes’ around the room.

‘We’ve seen the battlefront,’ I continued, including Ciera and Tyba in my gesture. ‘The Zeikas move like one great swarm, everybody together. They will not expect us to attack their camp.’

‘Us attack them?’ Strategist Sigthan demanded. ‘How would we get that close?’

‘Through stealth,’ I replied.

‘But what could you possibly do against that many splittin’ Zeikas? There are over ten thousand out there!’

‘Light their oil barrels,’ I replied. ‘Destroy their supplies and take down a good part of their camp as well.’

Everyone seemed to start talking at once.

‘We can’t even get our own supply skyearls into Condii let alone send an army out undetected,’ Sigthan said.

I looked her directly in the eye and said, ‘You don’t need to send an army. Send me.’

Ciera lowered his head to my level, ‘You would go alone into that nest of demons? I could not go with you.’

I gestured at my earring and folded my arms. ‘Tiaro will accompany me. We have done this before… though on a much smaller scale.’

The rescue of the Jarians from the Zeika camp in Naioteio came back to me vividly. Rekala and I had been newly bonded then, and the Zeikas had taken her from me to lure me into a trap. They sometimes seemed to know what I would do, but perhaps they still underestimated me.

‘What happened last time?’ someone asked. ‘How did you survive?’

‘I was a new Anzaii then. They had my Rada-kin, so they expected me to come, but they didn’t count on my being able to dispel so soon.’

‘And how do you know they don’t expect you now?’ Sigthan asked. ‘We don’t want the Zeikas to get hold of you and use your knowledge or powers against us.’

‘We can’t let that fear hold us back,’ I argued.

‘You don’t seem to understand what a threat you are—’

‘You’re sounding a lot like a Wavekeeper,’ I growled, my skin tingling with the start of a transformation. With effort, I suppressed it. ‘I apologise, my lady. I am still raw from the betrayal of Corypha.’

‘Apology accepted, Master Psion,’ Sigthan said. The others in the room watched the exchange, seemingly happy to let us argue it out so they could think. Sigthan drew a breath and added, ‘Whoever poisoned the Anzaii strike force, their methods may be distorted and wrong, but that doesn’t mean we are happy for you to just march in to a Zeika stronghold and hand yourself to them on a platter.’

‘I don’t think I am that infamous,’ I replied. ‘How would they know it was me?’

‘You would be surprised how much they know,’ Commander Varal argued. ‘We have found inked vellum on some of the Zeika’s bodies. Rough sketches depicting the facial features of many of our most gifted Anzaii indicate they are most certainly aware of and targeting both you and Jaalta.’

Many around Varal stared at him in surprise. Apparently he hadn’t shared this news before.

‘How would you get past their perimeter anyway?’ Tyba asked. ‘They are bound to have spirit circles, guards and a timber palisade.’

‘Not all Zeikas shrivel after death. You have the bodies of some of their younger warriors, don’t you?’ I queried. ‘I will wear the robes of a Zeika and control one of their conjurations long enough to get inside. Conjurers are higher in rank than most Zeikas and will not be questioned, especially if I have a conjuration there with me.’

‘This is madness,’ one of the strategists said.

Then Tyba asked in wonder, ‘Can you really control a conjuration for that long?’

‘I think so,’ I replied. ‘But you have to hold the real conjurer captive and conscious for all that time.’

‘And what about handling the spirit circle at the same time?’ Tyba added.

‘Tiaro can handle it if there is one, but I’m willing to chance they don’t have one,’ I said. ‘Why bother when they don’t see our ground troops as a threat? They’ll have dragons circling the camp to protect it from aerial attacks, but that won’t affect me if I’m in disguise.’

‘It is far too risky,’ said Sigthan. ‘You do not even speak Reltic, for one thing.’

Then Ciera added only to me, ‘I tend to agree, Taoen. It’s a brave idea, but I do not want to lose you and Tiaro.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted, ‘but Ciera does.’

‘Couldn’t you listen through the waves and send me the words I need?’

Commander Varal continued moving pieces about on the stone replica. Numbers were scratched into various lumps of wood, representing the placement of defender warriors throughout the realm. Blue paint indicated the squadrons originating from Centan. These were spread out across the realm now; some 2,400 were on their way to Highford; 6,400 were nearing Lantaid, to my great relief; roughly 4,400 had travelled to Condii with only 4,300 remaining in the Cascade City. So we had divided our army… but what choice had we?

Tyba and I sat down; the backs of our knees were aching from standing for so long outside on the shrouds. Servants came to take away our armour for cleaning and offer warm water to wash our faces and hands. A pair of Condiites even removed our boots and washed and massaged our aching feet.

‘Thank you,’ I said when they had finished.

The middle-aged woman who had served me bowed politely. ‘My pleasure, Master Psion.’

‘Sooner or later I might learn to accept my new rank,’ I whispered to Tyba.

He grinned. ‘I’m the wrong person to confide that to. I’ve been royalty all my life. Humble people of Tanza are honoured to serve those with more abilities in battle.’

I nodded, realising that I myself had been in that position prior to meeting Rekala.

‘The servants do what they can to make you more effective, Taeon,’ Tyba went on. ‘They know that you, and the others, with gifts, are the most powerful weapons we have against the Zeikas. That is why I cannot understand the position of the Wavekeepers.’

‘I agree with you,’ I said, ‘but imagine it from their point of view. They are mostly ungifted people, or have only one of the gifts, Sleffion, Tolite or Rada. They are jealous. What’s more, they find it threatening that an Anzaii with enough experience might actually be able to read their thoughts the same way their own beloved kin can.’

Tyba nodded. ‘And judging from the Zeikas’ drive to capture you alive, they have figured out a way to harness that telepathic power and use it to intercept our long distance communications.’

‘Tyba!’ Amadeus interrupted, allowing me (and therefore Ciera and Tiaro) to hear him on the waves, ‘Jaalta’s squadron has been intercepted. Reen has been knocked in the head and is fighting to stay aloft. He is no longer responding through the waves.’

My heart sank.

‘Can you reach Jaalta, Taeon?’ Tyba asked.

‘I’ve never initiated contact before with a human,’ I replied. ‘But if she is open to me…’

‘Jaalta,’ I called. Tiaro joined her senses to mine in the waves, questing out over the mental landscape, searching for the pin-points of light indicating another’s awareness. There were tens of thousands of them and enough voices to make me go insane. Thoughts and emotions rose off them like steam invading my sense of purpose.

‘Jaalta,’ Tiaro reminded me. We searched.

I began to focus on those thoughts and feelings that were the most harried, the most threatened, the most desperate. A whirlwind of presences, floating up into the sky, caught my attention. These were Jaalta and her personal guard.

Even as we watched, one of Jaalta’s guards, Sanka, was knocked from her Sleffion-kin’s back and plummeted to the ground. There was no time for any of the three skyearls to react with a shroud. The light I perceived her mind as suddenly winked out. Her skyearl was driven to the ground after her by four dragons.

‘They’re in trouble,’ I murmured distractedly to Tyba.

Jaalta was dragged from Reen’s back and the skyearl set upon by three dragons. Their demonic jaws opened wide and their unnaturally long teeth stabbed into the skyearl’s neck. Reen fell, back first, towards the ground, wings flapping uselessly. As he perished, Jaalta went limp in the arms of her captors. The emotion that seared from her collapsed me against the back of the chair. I didn’t care what it looked like to those gathered in the vista.

‘Jaalta,’ I called. ‘We will come for you. Jaalta.’

There was no response. Then Galtoro touched my mind. Though it was just a leafshard pendant, the Anzaii-kin’s mental presence was strong.

‘They have not harmed her,’ Galtoro said. ‘This is… a bad sign.’

‘They are taking care not to harm her,’ I relayed to Tyba, dragging my arm from my eyes. ‘They surely mean to use her in the way you suggested.’

‘Go!’ Tyba shouted to someone else in the hall.

Boots clattered on the floor as whoever it was ran to do Tyba’s bidding. Tiaro and I noticed several other presences outside turn their attention to Jaalta. As one they began to converge on her location. The dragons and Zeikas that were still struggling with Jaalta’s remaining guardian, Amril, drove him further away from her, leaving the one carrying the Anzaii free to retreat. His dragon somersaulted and shot away to the south, bearing her away.

Tyba, Varal and the strategists were shouting. Pain erupted inside me; the most terrible grief I could imagine, ripping open old and long buried feelings from my own childhood. Jaalta’s reaction to Reen’s death had been entirely different to anything I had ever experienced, and yet the memories it awoke in me were like red-hot daggers stabbing me from all sides. When I opened my tear-filled eyes even more people had appeared in the room. One servant patted my back and another pushed a tankard of ale into my hands.

‘Reen is dead,’ I stuttered. The shouting ceased and all eyes turned toward me. ‘Sanka and her Sleffion-kin have also been slain.’

‘And Amril?’ Tyba asked.

I concentrated for a moment on the waves before saying, ‘He and his Sleffion-kin made it to the ground... fighting off Zeikas with help from citizens.’

My breath came in gasping sobs. Someone pressed a cold swab against my forehead. I closed my eyes, swallowed and tried to stand. Reassuring hands pressed me down into the chair.

‘I must go now,’ I said. ‘We cannot allow our most powerful Anzaii to be exploited by them. Not only will we lose a powerful warrior, but we may also lose our main advantage over the Zeikas…’

Tyba looked long into my eyes—and finally nodded. ‘Taeon’s right. If the Zeikas are able to use Jaalta’s wave senses to intercept the communications from this building, they will ambush us at every turn.’

I noticed a hooded figure pulling back his cowl revealing the the light brown skin of a hook-nosed face I recognised instantly. Standing right before us—daring to be within our midst—was none other than Corypha.

‘Do not attempt a rescue,’ he said loudly. ‘You must send spear-skyearls and slay her now, before they get to the camps. It is the right thing to do.’

The heat that flashed through me was enough to make the food I’d eaten riot through my body. I flew from my seat, bowling Corypha over. Both of us slid several paces across the polished floor. Without even thinking, I had shifted into icetiger form, blue fur bristling like icicles. My claws pressed savagely into Corypha’s chest, drawing blood through his cloak.

Outside the room a skyearl roared and talons clacked on stone as his Sleffion-kin tried to get to him. Corypha shouted and struggled, but nobody moved to stop me. It was only the words of my Sleffion-kin, which registered dimly in my hate-clouded, instinct-driven mind that stopped me from biting the traitor’s throat open.

‘…not do anything unwise,’ Ciera was saying.

I panted over Corypha’s face, enjoying the fear that filled his eyes. My finger-length fangs brushed against his cheek, threatening to lay him open.

‘You dare to show yourself here,’ Tyba roared at him. ‘Murderer! Betrayer of the crown!’

‘But not a betrayer of the Nine,’ Corypha sputtered, trying to shove me off.

The crowd in the room seemed to have thickened. I could not see a path out of there. I had decided… whatever these people might say… the right course of action was not to kill Jaalta. It was to rescue her and destroy those oil barrels. I could do both.

I clenched my claws even tighter into Corypha’s flesh. He sobbed in pain. But it was nothing compared to the pain in which many of the strike force Anzaii had died. The pain that assailed me now. It was suffocating. My chest ached and stung… it burned… and a terrible weight pressed down upon me. It dawned on me that I was sensing my enemy’s pain.

I slowly released Corypha. I did not enjoy being the author of that sensation after all. Ciera cocked his head at me. Something important had just happened, but at the moment I could not bring myself to think about it. What now would we do with the traitor? I morphed slowly back into my human form and unbent from a crouching position to stand over him. Corypha remained on the floor, pressing his hands against the shallow gouges in his chest.

Nobody spoke. All eyes were on Tyba and myself. Even Amadeus, who was usually so quick to speak, remained silent, waiting.

‘It was you who poisoned the food supplies of the strike force,’ I accused Corypha. ‘You will tell these people everything you have set in motion, who you were working with and for how long.’

Tyba nodded at me. Behind him, High Commander Varal made a dismissive gesture as if he knew there was no stopping me.

‘I am leaving now,’ I said to the crowd, turning my back on Corypha. ‘To rescue Jaalta and prevent the Zeikas from invading our lines of communication and forging ones of their own.’

The Tanzans parted before me and someone ran from the back of the room carrying a set of Zeika armour for me. I glanced at Tyba and Amadeus.

‘Trees be with you,’ Tyba said.

‘Our aims are much the same,’ Corypha stammered desperately.

I turned to him with a glare of such loathing that several people drew their breath and looked away.

‘But where you give deceit and death, I will risk everything to save her.’

‘You will be captured along with her,’ Corypha shouted maniacally. He had crawled to a sitting position. ‘Stop him!’ Two guards stepped in to lift him to his feet and hold him still. ‘Then where will we be?’ he cried desperately.

‘You live in fear,’ I retorted. ‘We will make light.’

With his lips curled up in a snarl, Ciera shook his head at the cowardly traitor and followed me out of the room.

Chapter Eighteen—Infiltration

After the encounter with Corypha in the vista, Ciera and I made contact with a group of citizens in Condii city who had a lone conjurer trapped inside a house. His death hawk was wreaking havoc inside, but so far the Condiites had managed to board up all the windows and keep them both contained.

A handful of defender warriors and civilians made way for Jett and I after Ciera and Ptemais touched down. I strode into the house in full Zeika garb, including a faceless, green helm. My features were deliberately obscured by dirt, coal smears and a mixture of pomegranate juice that looked a lot like blood.

The conjurer screwed his ugly face up at me when I appeared. He garbled something at me in Reltic, which I ignored. He didn’t realise I was a Kriite until the moment I interrogated the connection between him and his conjuration.

My confuse ability made it seem as if I stood on the bank of a river holding the Zeika’s hand in one of mine, and on the other bank was the death hawk. As long as I held tightly to the Zeika’s hand, he could neither control nor dismiss his conjuration.

With the death hawk in tow, Ciera and I flew with all speed toward the Egg Basket Range and the closest promontory he could get to without being spotted from the Zeika encampment. Despite his anxiety, his thoughts toward me were suffused with an air of pride I had not sensed before.

It took all of my concentration to know what I was doing in the waking world as well as keeping hold of the Zeika in the waves. Every now and then the death hawk veered sharply towards me, snapping its jaws. The black eyes glinted fiercely, as if the demons inside were ready for the slightest lapse in my concentration.

Tiaro fortified me with all her strength. In the waves her spirit seemed layered over my own, a second hand reaching out with my own hand to clench the Zeika tightly. There was an unspoken agreement between us that Tiaro’s concentration would not waver from holding the Zeika for even an instant. This would leave me somewhat more able to deal with whatever happened in the waking world.

Jett and Ptemais agreed, reluctantly, to wait by the promontory with Ciera. If there was anything they could do to help me they would be there, with a moment’s notice. We all knew that, in this instance, there would be nothing they could do. It was the first time, since before I had become bonded with Rekala, that I’d had such a heavy responsibility to bear alone.

Well, not entirely… Tiaro was still right there on my ear and Ciera was ready to join with me in the waves and translate anything that was said. I had been warned not to say much or else my pronunciation and accent would give me away.

I squared my shoulders, tried to assume an air of superiority, and stalked down the gravelly hillside. Ciera’s feelings of helplessness followed me down the dark trail. I tried hard to lend a bit of my strength to Tiaro who was struggling to hold onto the Zeika.

The death hawk followed me obediently. All I had to do was think a specific action towards it and it would do it. Fly in a circle. Turn around. Fly backwards. Perform a somersault and swoop upwards…

I was moving uphill, through a small forest when the faint smell of a Zeika’s herb-washed body came to me. I could wait until he passed, but with daylight swiftly approaching, I needed to keep moving. It would be so much harder to light those oil barrels in the open light of day. I proceeded out of the forest with a supercilious demeanour. A dark figure stepped out from behind a boulder.

‘Identify yourself.’ Ciera translated the the voice, which was harsh, but young.

The death hawk soared back down out of the sky and I made it circle the speaker three times. He had drawn his sword several paces away and stood at the ready.

‘Underling,’ I spat, in Reltic. ‘You will not address me so.’

The Zeika took one look at the death hawk and bowed low. ‘Apologies, Conjurer. I am on scout patrol and I did not expect anyone to come from this direction.’

‘Nay, you would not. It is often those who don’t expect the unexpected who end up dead.’

I knew death was a sore point for most Zeikas, who strived to prolong their lives through sorcery. Their leaders cared not, and there was no grief for the death of another Zeika, but individuals preferred to stay alive.

‘Yes, Conjurer.’

‘Continue,’ I said, hoping he would carry on. Instead he turned to follow me.

Now I’d better not make a wrong turn or he would see I didn’t know where I was going.

‘If I may, Conjurer,’ the Zeika began, ‘what is happening on the front lines?’

I clenched my teeth. Ciera did his best to give me the words I needed to speak.

‘We are pushing through their pitiful defences even now. It is only a matter of time before Condii falls.’

The death hawk sailed low over my head, missing me by mere inches. I pretended not to be surprised. My fists were clenched tightly by my sides and sweat beaded around the muck on my face.

‘Praise Zei,’ said the boy. I did not echo him, as was expected.

That could be a problem.

‘Just say it,’ Ciera advised me.

A lifetime spent hating the Zeikas and their demon lord prevented me. ‘Not unless I have to,’ I replied stubbornly.

The hawk cawed angrily, flying in tighter and tighter circles.

‘Your conjuration is most restless,’ the youth observed.

I cut him off with a sharp gesture of my hand. ‘That’s because I am in no mood for diversions.’

A wooden palisade came into view, with orange torches gleaming at intervals along it. The front gate was manned by two guards with melee weapons. On either side was a skinny tower with a single bowman in each. The large doorway was recessed with hanging leather instead of a real, fortified gate. They obviously weren’t expecting any enemies to get this close.

I forced myself not to look up and around as I approached the gate. I’ve seen this many times before, I tried to tell myself. I am bored by it. I am tired and angry from battle.

The youth kept marching straight past the gate to continue his rounds. He spoke not another word to me, for which I was grateful. The less talking I had to do, the better. The guards sneered as I passed through. The death hawk flitted this way and that, coming very close to one of their heads. He swore at me and made a shooing gesture.

Inside I beheld a clearing directly ahead and a large wooden tower about two thirds as tall as Ciera. A set of stairs lead up the front of the tower and its roof was made of multi-coloured oiled skyearl pelts, drawn to a point at the top to allow water to run off. There were barrels piled up on either side of it—oil barrels?

Noticing a reed-strewn pathway to my left and right, I turned left and strode purposefully along the path. A guard passed me with no comment. To my right were two tents that rung with cries and wails—an infirmary perhaps. Further on were piles of logs, stacked as high as myself, and an open-sided tent for cutting and shaping the wood.

I rounded a U-shaped bend and witnessed the takeoff and landing of at least six squadrons of dragons—ten per squadron. There was a huge oval-shaped clearing for this purpose marked out by dragon-head totems in the ground. A small pile of oil barrels had been stacked ready for the dragons to pick up. Another guard passed me and I tried to look both arrogant and annoyed, as if I was doing some kind of inspection and I didn’t like what I saw. The Zeika bowed to me, saying ‘Praise be to Zei.’

‘Praise be to Zei,’ I replied smoothly. And when he was out of earshot I added, ‘Over my dead body.’

‘I will most certainly praise Zei over your dead body,’ the real Zeika conjurer, back in Condii, told me. I stumbled at the sound of his voice in the waves. I could sense Tiaro losing her grip on him, or rather he had tightened his grip on her and was using her to communicate with and try to distract me.

‘How fortuitous it will be if they take you alive, however.’

The death hawk floating above me swooped down, claws outstretched.

‘Get out evil one,’ I sent a mental shove back at the Zeika and walled myself in. The death hawk shrieked and whipped upwards again, flying out over the general area as if scouting. The battering the far-conjurer gave me was enough to make my head spin. I blinked and tried to steady myself, failing to walk straight. Several Zeikas turned to look at me. I scowled at them and continued doggedly on.

Having come nearly in a full circle, I passed close by the stairs to the great tower and entered the other side of the camp. Perhaps Jaalta would be somewhere here. But where should I start looking?

I stopped when I reached a tent with an immense wall of crates and barrels outside it. Many of the barrels were marked with the Reltic symbol for oil. I pretended to inspect one.

‘Do you require aid, Conjurer?’ An older voice.

‘No,’ I replied in Reltic. Then, thinking quickly and waiting for Ciera to translate, I added, ‘that is unless you can tell me where the Anzaii prisoner was taken.’

‘She is in the harledo, of course,’ he replied. Ciera took a moment to determine the meaning of ‘harledo’.

‘There is no Telbion-Tanzan language equivalent,’ he said. ‘Seems like “pleasure-tent”.’

‘That one is not for pleasure,’ I said. ‘She is to be waveraded.’

The Zeika spat. ‘She is old. Old and ugly… and mute. It is hard to believe she’ll be any use to us at all.’

‘She will,’ I replied.

The Zeika looked a bit more closely at me. ‘You appear to be injured.’

I fingered my forehead. ‘It’s only a scratch.’

‘As you say,’ he replied, slouching away.

I continued on my way, scanning for the harledo. The piles of barrels and crates continued much further than the first tent I had seen. Yet another tent appeared in the background; this one about twice the size of the other. A number of fireplaces were set up outside the tent with Zeikas in various positions around them. Most had a pipe, a drink, a whore or a combination of the three. It took every ounce of willpower not to turn my head away from their open debauchery.

I grinned my most lecherous grin and resented the part deep inside me that was curious about what they were doing. I continued past the opening to the great tent. The two guards at the doorway ignored me as I entered, but I caught them glance oddly at the conjuration that followed me. The squawking death hawk had served its purpose of helping me get into the camp and it no longer seemed logical for me to have it out.

I made a flicking gesture with my wrist and, at the same time, called upon Tiaro to deal with the demon. With a blood-curdling cry, the death hawk faded to nothingness. I let go of my grip on the far-conjurer through the waves and tried to focus on what was in front of me.

Several groans and angry mutters came to me from the shadows within the tent, but it wasn’t until I trod on somebody’s arm that I realised this was their sleeping quarters.

‘A little worn from battle, are you?’ one of the guards asked me disdainfully.

He had approached from behind and now held out one hand with a tiny ball of green flame dancing upon it. It gave just enough light to find our way through the slumbering bodies. Each person had a cot and a barrel of supplies. Some, clearly of higher rank, had a wooden deck with a larger bed, a chest and two chairs to themselves.

The tent was vast, held up by an immense sunbark trunk in the centre and many metal poles and ropes on the sides. It could easily have housed a thousand people lying down. What’s more, towards the edges I could now make out bunks of up to four levels. There were two open flaps on the far side of the tent.

‘Put that splittin’ light away,’ I told the guard grumpily, holding my head. ‘I do not need your aid to find my sorry excuse for a bed.’

Before he snuffed the light, I attempted to memorise a clear path to one of the exits, but I knew I would step on somebody else. I closed my eyes and started my icetiger transformation, stopping partway through. With tiger eyes I was able to see in the dark and pick my way through the sleeping bodies.

I reached the far side successfully and came out into the fresh air, releasing my partial transformation and pent up breath. Although I couldn’t communicate through the waves I had somehow managed to retain my connection and ability to transform.

I looked around, adjusting to my inferior night vision. To my right was yet another cluster of oil barrels.

‘They’ve got them spread throughout half the camp,’ I said to Ciera and Tiaro, ‘utilising every bit of space they have.’

‘That makes things difficult,’ Ciera replied.

I cursed under my breath. Now what? To my left were more Zeikas around a large bonfire, performing some kind of ritual with a steaming purple liquid. To my right were more barrels, which clustered all the way up against another large tent. Looking through my eyes, Ciera informed me that it bore the Reltic symbols for ‘quartermaster’.

I squeezed past a small wooden building and listened closely through the flaps of a second tent. There were voices raised within and the sound of chains dragging.

Hearing something outside, I stood up straight and moved forward. A group of four or five Zeikas passed me, laughing about what they had just done to some Kriite captives. I gulped. When I finally find Jaalta, will she be in any state to travel?

As I rounded the corner of the tent and reached the open front, I saw a cluster of at least fifty men. They were pointing, laughing and staring hungrily at whatever was going on inside the tent.

Drawn out wailing and sickening crunches sounded from within. Bile rushed into my throat at the sight of the seven or eight captive Tanzans. The Zeikas seemed to be jostling with each other and vying to get a turn.

More prisoners were being dragged in along the path behind me. I tried not to look any of them in the eye. Without meaning to, they might give me away and I wasn’t ready to rescue anybody yet.

Towards the back of the tent was a legion commander in full garb, a tall and muscular Zeika with black hair reaching down to his waist. Three skyearl-claw spikes stuck up from each of his pauldrons and a heavy mace rested across his back.

He and three others talked casually while drinking something thick and red from a shared tankard. I tried to ignore the sounds of the Tanzans, but my entire body was rigid with the effort. It felt as if my teeth would break from being clenched so hard. What if I could hide somewhere around the back and confuse a dragon or two? I could make them come down here and kill these butchers… but there would only be more… and it would only be a matter of time before I was found. Focus… focu!

Back at the landing spot, Ciera, Jett and Ptemais paced restlessly. Amadeus was also receiving many of my mental projections and relaying them to Tyba.

‘You must stop communicating with us,’ Amadeus said. ‘I know it comes as naturally to you as breath, but think about it. If Jaalta’s abilities are being tapped, then they will know there is someone nearby. As long as you are reaching out to us, you will be like a beacon. The one doing the waverading will sense you. You must shut the waves down completely. Close your mind.’

Close my mind? He wanted me to be cut off and alone in this place?

‘Have you not done this before?’

‘I have,’ I said, remembering the private time I had spent with Lira. I had been a fool, then, but I could re-use that skill now.

‘Goodbye for now,’ I said to my kin and Amadeus.

‘We’ll still be here,’ Ciera assured me.

Being careful not to show any emotion on my face, I brought Halduronlei to my mind, thought about the sparkling sapphire trees and mentally pulled down a barrier of darkness between me and the wavelengths I used to communicate with other beings. There would be no distractions, nothing in my mind but my own thoughts.

‘There are no waves,’ I said to myself. ‘There’s only me.’

Presences and feelings I hadn’t even been aware I was sensing faded away. All became still and calm in my mind. It was the loneliest I had been since before bonding with Rekala.

It was like when I had been alone in the woods near Jaria, gathering herbs and foodstuffs for Bessed. Peaceful yet, somehow, empty. There, I had been nothing but the quartermaster’s apprentice. Here, I was a specially-gifted warrior; the only person who could free Jaalta.

Now was the time I needed my kin. Here I was with an insurmountable task before me. Not only did I have no help from anyone else, but I couldn’t even share my experiences, relying on the waves for mental support and advice. It was all up to me.

‘Alrudo san yu ran,’ a big, hairy Zeika challenged me from behind. I jabbed him with my elbow as he passed and growled at him.

‘Haf-u rin doso jenRada?’ he snarled back.

Hearing the word ‘Rada’ made chills go down my spine. Have they discovered me already? I ignored him and he pushed forward, cursing loudly. I pretended to be interested in what was going on inside the tent and pressed in for a closer view. It was then that I saw Jaalta.

Huddled beneath the legion commander was a bloodied, manacled form, lying on her side with her neck bent awkwardly over a wooden plate. She was dressed in mere shreds of what had been her proud, Anzaii armour. The stately flax shirt had been stretched and torn, leaving most of her chest and neck bare. Bandages had been wrapped hastily around her. The mottled scar across her throat was stained with fresh blood. She lay so limply that I thought she might be dead. After what I had seen, that would probably have been a boon.

‘Stop thinking like Corypha,’ I told myself.

It was some time before the legion commander had consumed his fill of whatever was in the shared tankard. He sat down in a throne-like metal chair and gestured at one of his underlings. The person ducked out of the tent, returning momentarily with a buxom female in a gauzy green robe. Her partially-naked body drew the eye of every Zeika in the vicinity and I sensed that here was a female who could only be touched by one person.

‘Vasduro sensel, hass,’ the legion commander said to her. ‘Viska doro neph-tinar lakt on ef tepturo. Visko ela ais noi est.’

The witch was young, but the intelligence in her eyes unmistakable. She bent to roll Jaalta over and cut off a piece of her hair.

‘Allaph nal trygal?’ she asked.

The legion commander nodded, handing her the tankard they had been drinking from.

‘Aye,’ said the witch, ‘ephan nalla ka.’

‘Arak,’ he replied sternly.

The witch drank from the tankard. Red liquid ran freely over her chin. The witch dropped Jaalta’s hair into a cast iron pot that was positioned over a small brazier. She poured the rest of the liquid from the tankard over it and chanted. Green flames burst forth at her fingertips and she released the glowing balls into the pot. They seemed to liquefy before our very eyes, turning into a greenish molten metal. The liquid bubbled and a putrid smell arose.

Many of the Zeikas who had been occupying themselves with the captured Tanzans turned to watch.

‘Allarvo kareno est ok irin oost,’ the legion commander said boastfully, when it was clear the witch’s incantations were working.

I guessed from his tone that it was some kind of announcement or call to attention to witness what was going on. I strained to see over the heads of those in front of me. There were now over a hundred Zeikas crowded before the harledo. The liquid, hair and metal in the pot slowly merged leaving the mixture a sickly brown mass.

The legion commander said something else, raising his hands up high in worship. His eyes rolled up into his head and he shouted something to Zei in exultation. Jaalta stirred beneath his feet and scrabbled with her hands. Despite the noise from the gathered Zeikas, the hoarseness of her breathing reached me. I wished I could react, do something… would this process kill her? If so, why bandage her? Surely that meant they needed her alive. My thoughts raced… was now the time to act? How could I with all these people around?

My right hand was thrust deep inside my pocket, my fist clenched around the bundle of wicks I had stashed there. The plan was to use a nearby torch once the wicks were laid to piles of tinder under each stack of barrels. Maybe if I waited I could free enough of the Tanzans who could still walk to help me. Then we could grab Jaalta and get out of here. But now this…

I watched in horror as the witch threw a handful of black dust into the bubbling pot. A small explosion threw smoke into the air. I thought I sensed a dark presence flowing into the pot.

When the smoke finally cleared, the witch had pincers in her hands and was pulling two lumps of malleable metal from the pot. A blacksmith nearby had fitted two thin, metal cuffs over the legion commander’s wrists and then took them off again. The witch laid the green, sticky lumps over each metal cuff. With the cuffs as a guide, the blacksmith took a hammer and worked the lumps into an even, circular shape. Before the metal had cooled completely, the smith cut some grooves and allowed the witch to press five or six skyearl teeth into them.

After all the snippets and rumours I’d heard about waverade artefacts it seemed unreal to be seeing it come to pass. Some of the Zeikas watched in rapt fascination while others had returned to their previous amusement with the Tanzan prisoners.

Jaalta whimpered and squirmed on the ground. Whether she was in pain from her injuries or suffering from the witch’s actions, I could not tell.

After a long wait, the witch dipped the wristguards into a barrel of liquid. Steam rose off them, and a faint green fire burned from the centre of each wristguard. Although the wristguards were still hot, the witch said something to the legion commander and passed them to him.

He nodded, pursed his lips and slid each one onto his wrists. He roared in pain and the smell of burning hair and flesh filled the already rancid-smelling tent. The flames on the wristguards burned brighter and Jaalta’s damaged throat actually managed to produce a strangulated cry. She pressed her hands to either side of her head and began pounding it against the ground.

What can I do? What can I do? Trees, this can’t be happening.

One of the Zeikas grabbed Jaalta and strapped her down to the wooden pallet beneath her. With arms, hands, legs, feet and head tied down, she could only lie there and let the waverade take place. Even now the legion commander was violating her, turning himself into a quasi-psion. His eyes were closed and he babbled rapidly in Reltic. Soldiers ran in all directions, presumably rushing to tell those on the front lines what they had learned from their enemy’s waves.

Perhaps I should open myself to the waves just for a moment and try to warn everybody to stop communicating important information via the waves. But the legion commander would certainly notice me then.

It seemed like forever before he stopped shouting. Then he suddenly walked forward toward me. My heart stood still. Everything depended on me… If he could somehow sense me…

He passed me by, shaking his fists in the air and grinning widely. The Zeikas around me followed in his wake, abandoning whatever else they were here for. Just like that, the harledo cleared out, not a single Zeika left. Glancing down the pathway, I could see that the bonfire had been likewise abandoned. I hesitated, wondering if it was plausible for me to stay behind. Now was my chance…

As the ruckus died down, I looked carefully around to make sure no Zeikas remained. Carefully, quietly, I approached Jaalta. She winced as my shadow fell over her, then peered at me more closely. The recognition in her eyes was tipped with such pain that I drew back. Did she wish the Tanzans hadn’t tried to rescue her? Would she have preferred death? Surely not. I had never seen one of the viserill packets in her gear. I opened her left hand. Sure enough, there was one of Corypha’s packets—waxed paper marked with three leaf symbols.

I shook my head at her, saying, ‘I’m going to get you out of here.’

Tears filled her eyes and she whispered the words, ‘too late’.

‘Can you sense him?’ I asked.

She nodded, eyes going wide with anxiety.

‘Close down your waves,’ I suggested.

She shook her head and mouthed the words ‘I cannot’. Clearly the whispering caused her great pain. I took the packet from her hand, ripped it open and tipped its contents onto the ground.

‘No matter,’ I replied. ‘We’ll find another way.’

I unstrapped her and helped her to sit up. She was unable to take her eyes away from the spilt viserill.

‘We’re going to light the oil barrels,’ I told her quietly, ‘and escape.’

‘What about them?’ she mouthed, gesturing at the other Tanzans.

I licked my lips nervously. ‘Maybe they can help.’ Or maybe they’d be a liability.

Jaalta gripped my shoulder with one hand. ‘I didn’t think anyone would come,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know how you did it.’

‘We’re not done yet,’ I replied grimly.

Chapter Nineteen—Bloodlust

All but five of the Tanzan prisoners had perished in the fervent cruelty of the Zeikas. The survivors were all men, still wearing most of their armour. I unshackled and helped each of them to their feet. None of them were Anzaii, Sleffion, Tolite or Rada. I surmised they were footmen or perhaps town militia.

‘Master Psion Taeon?’ one of them queried. ‘Surely you did not come to save us?’

‘I’m sorry… ?’

‘Ronsah.’

‘…Ronsah. My mission here is to destroy the oil barrels and rescue Anzaii Jaalta,’ I replied without preamble. ‘Will you help?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he sputtered, belatedly adding a ‘sir’.

One of the others rubbed his arms and legs, trying to get the feeling back into them.

‘Are you hale?’ I asked him.

‘I’ll manage. Thank you.’

‘Tell me your names.’

They were Uzziel, Jehuel, Shimei and Soco.

We tried not to look at the beaten and mangled bodies of our fallen comrades. Nor did we speak of what had happened to any of them.

Jaalta hobbled to her feet, but was so weak from blood loss that she nearly fell over again. I caught her around the shoulders and held her against my chest.

I reached into my pocket with the other hand and gave out the knives and wicks.

‘We don’t have much time,’ I said. ‘Uzziel, can you carry Jaalta? The rest of you follow me and cut open some oil barrels. Empty one out of each pile onto some of the others. Pile some tinder under it, anything that will burn, even these reeds.’

I kicked the ground. ‘Put the wick in and drag the line out as far as you can. You will light it with any torch you can find nearby then run. We are hoping that the whole lot will catch fire and burn out before the Zeikas can stop it.’

‘What about the guards?’ Ronsah asked.

I nodded impatiently. ‘Yes, I counted seven in this area. I will kill them quietly. We must not wake any of the sleeping Zeikas.’

My body still answered when I started to morph; I had only blocked the communication part of the waves.

‘How are we getting out of here?’ Jehuel asked incredulously.

‘We can’t risk the front gate,’ I said. ‘I can take elephant form and lift each of you over the fence down this end.’

An angry looking Zeika paced around the corner of the harledo, pausing when he saw me. Before he had a chance to react to the standing Tanzans, I dived onto him. The shift to icetiger form came to me so quickly that I had clamped my jaws over his throat and killed him without a thought. My fellows stared with open mouths at the swiftness of the kill. There was no time for squeamishness now.

I tilted my head to the right and the Tanzans followed me carefully around the corner. We slipped behind two wooden buildings and I nodded at the first stockpile of barrels. Ronsah got to work straight away, stabbing his knife into one of the barrels and spilling its contents over the others.

I didn’t wait to see the outcome of his efforts. I knew there were two guards on the other side of the pile who would soon sense what was going on. Sitting up on my back legs, I held up one paw, gesturing for the group to wait for me. With that, I ducked into the sleeping tent and crept through it as I had done before. It was somewhat emptier than it had been.

I spied the two guards and felt the fur stand up along my spine. There was a lot at stake still. If we couldn’t get Jaalta out of here, there’d be nothing we could do about the wave-imbued wristguards. If the oil barrel plan failed the Zeikas would continue raining them down on Condii. And if we were discovered by the crowd who had watched the formation of the waverade artefact we would all die.

When both of the guards’ backs were turned, I pounced. One man hit the ground hard and I spun to grapple with the other before he could raise the alarm. My claws raked across his chest, tearing him open. I spun mid-air as the other Zeika was coming to his senses, and crushed his forehead in with my teeth. It was an effort not to growl. The blood that spurted over me was just an inconvenience. I closed myself to the instinctive bloodlust that rose within me.

I ran back to the Tanzans and resumed my human form just in time to stop one of them from tossing a firebrand onto the wick.

‘Don’t light it yet,’ I said. ‘They must all be ready at once. Wait for my signal.’

Jaalta and the Tanzans were staring at me in shock. I tasted a metallic tang on my lips and could only imagine how horrifying I looked with real blood dripping over the fake blood.

‘Soco, prepare that pile,’ I said, pointing at the barrels on the far side of the entrance to the sleeping tent. ‘Jehuel, Shimei get to work on those over there.’

The final stockpile was the biggest of all and covered half the length of the sleeping tent. This would be the most difficult part of our mission. I took icetiger form again and jumped onto the barrels, searching for the other guard that had patrolled the pathway here.

He was somewhat closer to the main tower, when he spotted me, than I liked. Within seconds I had closed the distance between us. His shout drew the attention of another pair of guards, but by the time they reached the corner where the guard had been, I had killed him and dragged the body into the nearest tent.

I hoped that the other Tanzans would have the good sense to lay low while the guards were there. To my dismay I heard one of the guards moving away, leaving one behind to investigate further.

I crawled out of the tent on my belly, using the whiskers all over my body to navigate between barrels and casks without knocking anything over. The remaining guard’s stink made my lips curl up in a silent snarl. I rushed him, flailing with claws and teeth. Stripping the flesh from the backs of his legs, I pushed him over and forced his face against the ground. He struggled against my considerable bulk for a few minutes, but his shouts were muffled by the soft pine needles and reeds that covered the pathway. I closed my teeth over the bones in his neck, killing him.

‘This is necessary,’ I said to myself. ‘This is war.’

When I returned to my natural form, Jehuel and Shimei had finished coating the oil barrels in the spilt liquid and piling tinder underneath. Shimei darted to a nearby sconce and lit an oil-coated scrap of cloth.

I jogged to the main entrance to the sleeping tent and found Ronsah hiding between the barrels on that side.

‘It’s time to light them up,’ I said. ‘Then follow me.’

All this running backwards and forwards to communicate was foreign to me now. Since meeting Rekala I had used the waves to get such information across to others. Before that others in Jaria had done it for me.

It took several minutes for the Tanzans to light all the wicks they had laid. Within moments flames caught on the outsides of many of the wooden barrels.

‘This way,’ I said, leading them back past the first stockpile, the two wooden buildings and the harledo.

Uzziel and Jaalta looked like they were about to collapse.

‘There may be guards on the other side,’ I said to the other four. ‘Have your knives ready.’

The Tanzans nodded, looking worried, but ready.

I took a deep breath and imagined my body in the form of an elephant. My ears strained outwards, my back arched up and my nose surged out into a long, grey trunk. Ever so silently, I settled into my new shape, flapped my, now enormous, ears and wrapped my trunk around Jehuel’s body. He felt very heavy and I wondered if my neck would be able to lift him up high enough to get over the fence.

It was only possible if I pushed up with my forelegs and stood half against the fence. Jehuel was agile enough to avoid the points at the top of the palisade and wiggle his body out of my grip to jump down on the other side. I winced at the noise his fall made and the vibration I felt through my softly padded hind feet.

Soco was a little lighter. One by one I lifted them over until only Jaalta and Uzziel remained. I lifted her over first and was grateful for the men on the other side having devised a way to climb partially up the fence to help her down from my trunk.

Uzziel felt the heaviest of all in my trunk and I strained to get him to the top. One of the posts I was leaning my front feet on groaned and cracked. Uzziel slipped just at the top of the palisade and cut his arm on one of the spiked logs.

I stepped back in time to prevent the log from giving way. Perhaps an easier way to escape would have been for me to use my weight to knock down the fence. But that would have attracted attention.

Now I had only to save myself. I relaxed back into my human form and tried to catch my breath. It came in huge gasps. Blood thundered in my ears and a sensation of dizziness nearly overcame me. I tried to wipe the congealed blood from my eyelashes and found that it was stuck fast. The muscles in my face ached from using my trunk in elephant form. It felt like somebody was trying to wrench my teeth out.

‘Hoi!’ A shout from behind. I stood up, barely remembering in time that I was still garbed as a Zeika.

I spat at the guard’s feet. He sneered at me, gesturing at the blood all over me and babbling something in Reltic. I grunted at him and pretended to be drunk. It was easy to make myself vomit. I had only to think on the things I had seen and done that night and taste the blood that lingered in my mouth.

The guard turned away, muttering. I rested there for some time, waiting for the guard to walk down the path and back past the quartermaster’s tent.

Drawing on my last reserves of concentration and strength, I blurred down into rat form and scurried up the wooden palisade. I paused at the top to survey the area outside the walls. Four guards had been killed and dragged up against the wall. Jaalta and the rest of the Tanzans were nowhere to be seen. I puzzled on this for a moment, wondering where they had got to.

A light breeze touched my face and I looked up to see Ciera descending through the clouds. He landed just long enough for me to hop onto his nose and run up along his neck to the battle-seat, before taking off again.

Up high in the sky was a shroud with Jaalta, Jett, Ptemais and the other Tanzans on it. I waited until I was on the flat, white surface of the cloud before transforming back into myself. I crawled to the edge and looked down over the Zeika encampment, pleased by the billowing red flames and black smoke that rose from their oil barrels.

About a third of their supply had lit up so far. The Zeikas weren’t ones to keep large volumes of water lying around and so they would have little with which to douse the fires. Although we had only poured oil on and lit a small number of the barrels, the heat and flames would hopefully soon burn through the wood of the other barrels and bring each pile crashing down. I smiled to myself and flopped down onto my back.

Jaalta was lying on the cool surface of the shroud next to me. Ciera stood at the pointed front-end of his cloudy creation as if steering a great sky ship. Apparently he and Ptemais had dispatched any Zeika sky patrols that had remained near the camp. We floated serenely over the Zeika encampment and continued north east along the line of towers on that side of Condii city.

Although I told myself that I had achieved the mission, I knew it hadn’t all gone to plan. As I closed my eyes, it did not even occur to me that there were no voices in my head. My mind remained closed to the crashing waves and the havoc the Zeikas were now wreaking.

Chapter Twenty—Violation

There was a loud boom.

‘Wake up, Master Psion,’ Ronsah nudged me. ‘Is he all right?’

I shook my groggy head. Dried blood made it difficult to open my eyes again. More thunderous noise drove me from my stupor. The oil barrels are exploding! I stood up, looking behind us at the destruction of the main Zeika camp. Clouds of smoke billowed up, black in contrast to Ciera’s white shroud.

I mustn’t have lost consciousness for long. The shroud ship had not even made it back past the protective line of Condii’s towers. Soco had spotted dozens of dragons making their way straight towards us. One carried a brilliant green flag, which whipped in the breeze of their passage. I groaned and rolled into a sitting position.

‘Are reinforcements coming to aid us?’ I asked Ciera.

He glanced down at me with pinched brows. ‘Yes, Taeon. Can you not unblock your waves now?’

‘What is the point?’ I replied. ‘Anything we say over the waves has the risk of being heard by the legion commander now.’ Furthermore, I wasn’t sure how to unblock them.

‘We will kill him,’ Ciera said.

‘He is there,’ Jaalta whispered hoarsely. She pointed in the general direction of the approaching squad. ‘He means to claim me so I cannot be killed.’

‘He thinks we will kill you?’ I asked.

She nodded.

‘We will not,’ I told her firmly. ‘Corypha would have, but he has been apprehended. He will pay the full price for his betrayal.’

‘Expulsion,’ Jaalta whispered.

Ciera roared as the Zeika squadron veered closer.

‘Everyone together with me,’ I shouted, getting to my feet.

Jett and the battered Tanzans clustered around Jaalta and myself. If they didn’t want to kill Jaalta then they wouldn’t be able to use the flame-breath of their dragons against any of us.

The dragon riders flew in tight circles around the shroud, perhaps gauging what to do. Six of them landed on the shroud and the Zeikas dismounted. Barely had two of them found their feet when they hefted a large cross-bow each and fired upon us. Ciera stepped into the path of the vicious bolts to protect us. They penetrated deeply in his softly furred side, but he was so enormous the bolts weren’t able to do any serious damage.

I could not sense his pain, but I knew that, to him, the sharpened bolts would be like someone driving spines into my flesh. Ciera bellowed at the Zeikas, stepping forward on all fours to snap one in half. Four of the Zeikas raised their hands in the air, and a dim white shape started to form.

Ptemais tried to protect us from flying Zeika bowmen on the other side, but Shimei was shot in the neck and died.

‘You must kill me,’ Jaalta hissed, tugging at my bloodied Zeika garb.

I shook my head. ‘Never.’

‘I can sense him,’ she said whispered. ‘Harolak—the legion commander—is one of Bal Harar’s sons. He has raped and murdered hundreds. His filth is seeping into me…’

‘You are strong enough to resist him,’ I replied firmly. ‘You are a Kriite.’

‘I am… something else now as well…’

She rolled onto her side, holding the newly tightened bandages the Tanzans had strapped around her. She pushed herself up, holding out her hands. Green flames danced there, like little spirits on her palm. The Tanzans stared at her in shock.

‘What is this?’ one of them demanded.

‘An effect of the waverade spell,’ I surmised.

Jaalta shrugged with irritation. There wasn’t time to ponder on it. The conjurers had finished whatever they were conjuring. Combining their thoughts and powers into one, they had managed to conjure a gigantic theros about half as tall as Ciera. Its thick, muscled arms swung at my Sleffion-kin, pounding him. Ciera snapped his jaws at the theros frantically, but somehow it always managed to duck and spin away. It swung on its enormous arms like a wild gorilla and beat its chest with rage.

Jaalta moved forward to stand with Ciera. I remained where I was, uncertain that I could do anything to help without the waves. If Ciera was killed, that would be the end for all of us. The shroud we were standing on would dissipate and everyone would fall to their deaths.

Jaalta raised both arms and pointed her palms at the theros. Green jets of flame poured from her, blasting the creature backwards. Ciera’s wings spread out and he pounced and closed his jaws on the struggling conjuration. The remaining five Zeikas ran at Jaalta. She flamed one of them straight in the face and he collapsed to the shroud, burned to a crisp. The others grabbed her.

Now is the time to act. I told myself. Risks be damned.

I leapt forward in icetiger form and knocked two of the Zeikas down. Jett and the Tanzans were right beside me, grappling with the Zeikas however they could; with knives, fists and boots.

Green flames erupted around us, some from Jaalta, some from the Zeikas. The mists of the shroud billowed up in great clouds as the moisture combined with the flames.

Before the rest of the circling squadron could join the fight, Ciera flew after them. Jaws swinging wildly, he crunched down on the hindquarters of one dragon, let it fall, then swerved and snapped up another one.

Despite his prowess, there were so many, and when they began to turn on him, he struggled to stay aloft. Slowly we descended, Ciera, shroud and all.

I swiped my claws across the knees of one of my assailants and shoved him over the edge of the cloud.

Ciera’s roars of pain indicated the dragons’ jaws, though small in comparison, were sharp enough to injure him. There was nothing I could do. I paced, clenching my fists and wishing I had a bow and arrows with me. If only Sarlice and Henter were here.

Jaalta collapsed into a sitting position once more. There was blood showing through her bandages. Her eyes were haunted.

The day-star burst through the clouds in the distance. Dawn brought a cool snap of wind that whisked away the mist that hung in the valley. As I glanced in the direction of the light, wondering if this would be my last battle, hundreds of winged silhouettes came into view.

It was Prince Tyba, leading a hundred flying archers and two hundred air combat skyearls to our rescue.

The skyearls engaged the dragons. Within moments, the battle had escalated. Having slain all the Zeikas on the shroud, I could do little else to help without using my Anzaii abilities on the waves.

I watched as the Tanzan skyearls collided with and killed the Zeika squadron. I had a view of the sky battle that made my heart pound and my head spin. Skyearls flew in massive arcs around the shroud, forming a living, breathing perimeter.

Many of the skyearls were bigger than the dragons and it took little effort for them to overpower them and bite into the Zeikas that were on their backs. The dragons that were being far-conjured, threw themselves at the skyearls with abandon. Dozens, on both sides, were killed.

Jaalta was lying on the shroud with her head in Jett’s hands. Her mouth hung open and I worried that, if we didn’t get help for her soon, she might die even after all we’d done to save her.

Ciera was free of the dragons that menaced him. He sailed around the area, knocking Zeikas from the backs of their dragons with his immense lion-like paws, or snapping them up and spitting them out again. Every falling Zeika that plummeted to his death screamed in fear.

With an army to support him, Ciera seemed unstoppable. His fur was peppered with blood, but he soared through the sky vigorously, roaring and flapping his purple and green wings.

The battle went on until only a small group of Zeikas on tyraks remained.

‘It’s Harolak,’ Jett said, having read Jaalta’s lips. ‘Jaalta’s quasi-psion.’

Staring at Jaalta’s rapid decline, I shouted, ‘Slay him!’

Even though we weren’t connected on the waves, Ciera heard me and gave chase.

The commander wheeled his unit to flee.

The ferocity of the immense flying skyearl surprised us all. Even for those who had known Ciera a lifetime, it was rare that he let out such raw, animal viciousness. A burst of shroud buffeted him and with great speed, he flew after the retreating Zeikas, colliding with them mid-air.

He tumbled with Harolak’s tyrak, which was less than half his size, through the sky, grappling with his claws, snapping with his teeth. The black dragon tore at Ciera’s chest and fresh blood flowed.

My Sleffion-kin’s fist closed around Harolak’s head, crushing it to a pulp. The tyrak vanished as conjured creatures could not exist without their masters. Those who were with me on the shroud let out a cry of triumph and Jaalta blinked at me in relief.

When finally all the Zeikas had been killed, Ciera landed back on the shroud and dropped the corpse of the legion commander. I averted my eyes from the mangled head. The wristguards no longer burned with green flames. I pulled them off the Zeika’s wrists, wrinkling my nose at the blood and pus that came away with them.

‘These can no longer be used against you,’ I said to Jaalta. ‘From what I saw before, the ritual only works on the person who drank your blood and received it into his own flesh.’

She nodded weakly.

‘We must return her to the fortress,’ I said to Jett and the other Tanzans. ‘She is in a bad way.’

‘I will take you all,’ Ciera said, then return to finish this battle.

‘Finish it?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ he replied happily. ‘Now that the Zeikas have less oil barrels, their attacks on the city have ceased. Commander Varal has sent almost all of the air combat group and flying archers out to finish off these foul intruders. Among the Zeika ranks there is widespread confusion about the waverade artefact. The Zeikas are over confident and attack with renewed frenzy, but it becomes carelessness. We will overpower them.’

‘And the strike force?’ I asked.

‘Are in their element,’ Ciera replied. ‘Your actions gave us the advantage we needed.’

‘And the waves… ,’ Jaalta whispered hoarsely, ‘are clear.’

‘Yes,’ Ciera agreed. ‘Now that the Zeika legion commander is dead, the strike force is free to utilise all the powers of the waves.’

‘We must get the waverade artefact back to the vista so they can study it further.’

‘Thank the trees,’ Jett murmured.

I climbed up onto Ciera’s back and he flew ahead of the shroud, pulling it more quickly. I tried to relax and let my guard down, but my mind was clamped shut. It was like holding a muscle in the same place for so long that it would no longer go any other way. I railed against my own borders with a growing feeling of being trapped. I could no longer communicate with Tiaro or use my new-found Anzaii abilities. I was still able to transform, but I could not reach out to Rekala to find out how she was. Don’t panic. It will return in time.

Ciera brought us over the walls of Condii and straight to the fortress. The shroud came down until the others were able to stumble, exhausted, onto the landing platform. Commander Varal came out to greet us personally. He received Jaalta from Uzziel and gestured for someone else to help each of us walk inside. Jett took off my Zeika helmet and carried it for me. I hung my head, feeling nothing but my own pain, sensing nothing but my own thoughts and feelings.

‘We have prepared a place for each of you to wash and rest,’ Commander Varal said.

Jett and I followed a middle-aged woman down one corridor towards a small bath chamber. I groaned, feeling that all I wanted to do was fall into a bed and sleep. I wished I could be outside witnessing the victory that was about to take place. But I knew I would only be a burden to someone now. My body was coming into a depressed low after the high of the last twenty-four hours.

Jett dismissed the woman and closed the door behind her. Without speaking a word he undressed me and pushed me towards the bath. I had not realised how much blood was on me until I stepped into the water. It sheared off in globs and pools, making the water turn pink, then red. There was a second hot tub nearby.

Once I had wearily climbed into it Jett cleaned my upper body with soap and a scrubbing brush and washed my hair as I dealt with the rest of me.

Afterwards, my body felt warm but weak as I made my way to my assigned sleeping quarters. To my surprise, Jett opened the door to a lavishly furnished, spacious suite.

‘This can’t be right,’ I stammered. ‘The city is crowded with refugees…’

‘Of that you need not concern yourself,’ my aide told me. ‘After everything you’ve been through, both you and Ciera will be afforded every luxury we can give you. This room was at his express request.’

‘I have worked no harder than any other warrior out there,’ I protested.

‘We all do our utmost to win this war,’ Jett agreed. ‘However your efforts happen to be about a hundred times more effective than just “any other warrior”.’

‘I have slept outdoors most of my life. I do not need—’

He cut me off with a gesture. ‘You will function at your best when properly catered for. Stay here as long as you need to rest and refocus your mind. Ciera has asked that you do not return to battle until you’re able to use the waves once more.’

‘Ciera needs medical attention,’ I stammered. ‘All those bolts and bites…’

‘I will take care of it before he flies off again,’ Jett said.

I blinked tiredly and decided against arguing.

‘You will rest too?’ I asked.

He seemed amused. ‘Yes, just as soon as you and Ciera are seen to.’

I waved my hand at him. ‘Go then, I will be fine. Thank you.’

I dragged myself into the plush, skyearl-feather bed and pulled the linens loosely over me. Jett drew the curtains shut to hold out the light of dawn and to keep the sounds of battle at bay. I was asleep before he’d even left the room.

Chapter Twenty-one—Isolation

I woke some time in the evening when a Tanzan entered to light the lanterns around the walls.

When she saw I was awake, she said, ‘Your pardon, Master Psion.’

I groaned. My head ached like I had been severely bashed. At the lady’s gesture, Jett came in bearing a mug of nyno soup and some aloe vera paste.

As he ministered to the variety of minor injuries I had acquired, he said, ‘A message awaits you.’

‘They wouldn’t give it to you on my behalf?’ I queried, stretching out my legs to regain some blood flow.

‘Nay. We have laws about that sort of thing. They will hand-deliver it soon.’

‘Very well,’ I replied. ‘How fares Ciera and the strike force?’

Jett glanced at me. ‘The Zeikas fall back before them, their numbers much fewer than expected. Estimates indicate we were evenly matched at about 13,000 per army. Thanks to the destruction of most of their oil barrels, our tactics have temporarily prevailed. We have retaken the towers and crushed the Zeika army. Ciera and the Condii defenders are hunting down the survivors, who are fleeing back to Lokshole.’

I smiled a bitter-sweet smile. ‘More will come.’

‘Yes.’ Jett applied a thin bandage to my left wrist where a wound had broken open.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they rank you a Specialist before too long. You’re going to need a rank to truly be useful in this war, and it cannot wait for the usual defender promotion process.’

There was a knock at the door and Jett waved in a young female with her hair in braids. She curtsied.

‘Greetings, Master Psion. I am Treya, aide of Rada Egrastta. We have some messages for you. The first is from your Rada-kin, Rekala.’

I reached out my hand for the note she was carrying. Receiving a written letter from my own Rada-kin brought home my isolation. The note read:

What have you done to yourself now, Rada? I have heard of your escapades from many sources on the waves. We are all proud of you, but I am sick with fretting. Will you join us here? Sarlice is with us now. She misses you terribly. Why stay in Condii? If you cannot use the waves, perhaps you would be better off here. Maybe we can help you lower your barriers if we are together again.

There is no doubt that more Zeikas will come to both Lantaid and Condii. If it’s fighting you want, there’s sure to be plenty here. No matter what you decide, dear one, trees be with you.

Rekala

I closed my eyes for a long moment, thanking the Nine they were all safe.

‘And the second?’ I stretched out my hand.

Treya handed me a curl of pig’s hide, inked in black.

Dear Taeon,

We’ve been so preoccupied with war here in Lantaid I’ve hardly had a moment to myself to write you. Fought Zeikas at a place called the Hills of Everstain. Rekala and Kestric were by my side. You’d have been proud of your Rada-kin. She saved my life more than once.

We have heard of your prowess in the strike force—everyone seems to know you now, Tanza’s master psion. Look how far you’ve come since we left Jaria more than a season ago. I look forward to resuming my place at your side.

If you can’t come to us, perhaps the three of us could join you there in Condii. I have heard that you are not always flying about with Ciera and that your latest mission was afoot. Let us be reunited, Taeon.

Yours, Sarlice.

I brushed the paper with my fingertips, wishing Sarlice was here. Yours. Perhaps I could ask to have her sent to Condii. It felt strange fighting Zeikas without Rekala, Sarlice and Kestric, yet if I did bring them here wouldn’t I be bringing them to their deaths?

The logistics weren’t the main hurdle, I realised. A spare skyearl could be found to transport them in the strike force with me or the three of them could shapechange during flights and stow aboard Ciera somehow. Nay, the reason Sarlice, Rekala and Kestric mustn’t be with me now was because I would become distracted with protecting them. With so much going on and me still learning how to use my Anzaii powers, it was imperative I remain focused.

I wished I could discuss my thoughts with Tiaro or Ciera, but my walls were tight around me.

‘Do you wish to send a reply?’ Treya asked.

I shook my head. ‘Nay. I will regain use of the waves.’

Jett and Treya both remained looking at me.

I shrugged. ‘I must.’

Treya eventually left and I tried to eat some of the soup. Though heavy of limb and exhausted, I felt as if I ought to be doing something. I wandered out to the vista. An argument was in full swing.

‘As much as I wish to be involved in defending the entire realm, our focus must remain on Condii,’ Commander Varal was saying.

One of the strategists threw up his hands. ‘No disrespect to our king, but if Centan cannot oversee the activities of all our armies, then we must do it.’

‘They are doing it,’ Tyba replied calmly. ‘They are simply distracted at the moment. They are experiencing other difficulties relating to the sky kingdoms. Several sky kingdom shrouds have already fallen due to the deaths of shrouders in other cities. If too many of the skyearls who maintain those shrouds are killed, it leaves too much of a burden for the others.’

‘Prince Tyba, if I may speak openly, being distracted by this problem with the sky kingdoms is hardly an excuse,’ the strategist replied. I could see Tyba’s usually-cheerful countenance darkening. ‘If it weren’t for my own family being hidden on the coastline east of Lokshole, we would not have found out about the thousands of Zeikas that are now heading in this direction. It is Centan’s responsibility to have adequate scouting parties out—’

‘Saned, you are out of line,’ Commander Varal told him sternly. ‘We are in a war. Scouting parties are sometimes discovered and killed. Instead of questioning our leadership and wasting time trying to correct our procedures, why not be thankful that your family are indeed in the vicinity and able to warn us? Please tell them to take cover and stay hidden should they be needed to spy upon the Zeika entry-point again.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Saned mumbled.

Commander Varal turned to me. ‘Welcome back, Taeon. I’m sure you’ve heard of the advantages your plan has afforded us here in Condii.’

I nodded. ‘But you say more Zeikas are already on their way here?’

‘It is true,’ he agreed. ‘We will not have long to rebuild our defences. Estimates have the Zeikas arriving here no sooner than 179 Faraday, seven days hence. But more good news has reached us. Even against higher numbers, the defenders at Highford have turned back the Zeika invasion. Air combat squadrons and cavalry have ridden down most of the survivors.’

‘And has Ciera finished off the Zeika survivors near Lokshole yet?’ I queried.

Tyba gestured broadly out the window. ‘I take it you have not regained use of the waves. The Condii defenders have killed many of the fleeing Zeikas and take advantage of a sluggish watch over Lokshole as we speak. The Zeikas were not expecting the battle to come to them. Lokshole has never been an easy town to defend.’

I swallowed, trying to reach out with my mind as I always had. There was a strange void all around, making me feel like a blindfolded person in broad daylight. I sat down on a chair proffered by one of the strategists and fiddled with one of the bandages on my arm.

Their conversations continued on through the night and I tried to pay close enough attention to make sense of the battle as a whole. As the night deepened, Varal and most of the strategists retired. Others came to fill their place. Captain Dathan relieved Tyba, who was dragged away by Samos, protesting. Although we had now reached a lull in the fighting, there would always be a team of commanders and strategists in the vista.

They focused mainly on coordinating repairs throughout Condii and building new fortifications around the towers that had been taken. Architect Furlorny had been called into town to advise the head masons and oversee all the structural and engineering work that was going on. With the vast number of citizens in the city, labour was not a problem. Farmers and hunter-gatherers were sent out into the fields and forests of Condii to collect food and fodder. Supplies from other towns had all-but ceased. Nearly all the major cities, except for Centan, were at war and few could spare the time or resources to send help to the others.

Furlorny and his workers had packed up the strike force camp near his manor and brought most of the supplies into Condii. My gear was jumbled up in a pile in the vista with the belongings of other members of the strike force, some of whom were no longer with us.

I wondered where Corypha was being kept and what information, if any, he had revealed about the Wavekeeper plot. Did the Condiites believe it had been he who poisoned the Anzaii?

After I’d taken my gear to the suite, I returned to the vista with Fyschs’ scabbard on the Jarian Anzaii belt. Tiaro was still clasped in my left ear, but even when I touched her the waves remained eerily silent and there was no answering glow.

In the early hours of the morning, when I was finally starting to feel awake, we heard that a Zeika stronghold had been discovered on the high side of the border, to the south west of Lantaid. In the craggy granite canyons at the base of Fireflow Mountain was a hollow some four hours walking-distance across. Thousands upon thousands of Zeikas had gathered there.

My heart sank as I realised Sarlice and the Rada-kin would face yet another overwhelming army near Lantaid very soon. With little defensive capability in the town, the civilians would have nowhere to hide if the Lantaid defenders fell.

‘You must tell them to start getting supplies ready to flee through the chasm,’ I said to the messenger.

To my surprise, Dathan nodded. ‘Yes, that is wise. The barrier will allow them through, but the Zeikas will be delayed by having to drink the blood of our people. The civilians would have more chance of getting to the chasm than reaching Condii.’

I shook my head in exasperation. ‘If they have so many warriors, why not hit us all at once, in one place, and then move on to the next?’

‘They attack us on multiple fronts,’ Dathan replied. ‘We have no choice but to remain divided.’

If only we could deprive them of access to any Kriite blood. Spurred by my success attacking the camp I asked, ‘Why do we not attack their bases on the upper side, now?’

Dathan nodded. ‘King Crystom has several flying archer teams attempting just that, but these missions have so far failed. We haven’t had any solid reports of Zeika numbers up there. They must be using spirit circles to hide themselves and kill any scouts that come within range.’

That’s where I needed to be, but not without my Anzaii abilities. I hung my head in sorrow. What could we do? The mighty Tanza appeared to be losing this war. Hopelessness welled up in me. An anxious thought crossed my mind—that it was somehow me bringing death and destruction to my people wherever I went. The Jarians. The Tanzans. That’s what the Wavekeepers had predicted.

Some of my teeth throbbed. I had done a lot of killing with those in icetiger form; perhaps I had damaged them. I stared at my palms, the scarred and battle-worn hands of a warrior or a killer? Was there a difference? As my heart rate went up claws pushed through the tips of my fingers, then receded.

Dawn broke across the city, sending shafts of sunlight through the mists that curled around the buildings and towers. In the distance, outside the walls of Condii, were many pillars of dark smoke. The body pyres burned in all directions, but most were to the south near the Zeika encampment.

I pressed my head against the almost-transparent glass of the vista, wishing I could hear a benevolent voice in my head. Despite the mood, I marvelled at the vastness of the waking city. What a shame to have war come here. The smoke of many kitchens and inns rose up like flags of life persisting throughout Condii.

I tried to imagine the many thousands of people out there. Without the waves to connect me with their kin, I could only guess at their thoughts and emotions. Though some had been injured or lost loved ones, they would press on.

Battalions of cavalry walked and trotted down the cobbled lanes from the direction of the front gate. Many of the horses were riderless, some limped horribly. Cattle, goats and sheep were herded through the streets by groups of children on foot. Elsewhere, pigs and chickens were shoved into smaller and smaller pens while makeshift huts and tents were still being erected for the refugees. Some slept on pelts in the open air.

Rada-kin of all kinds moved about the town, some following their human-kin purposefully, others wandering aimlessly, grief-stricken.

In the distance, if I strained my eyes I could see the builders labouring at the tops of the gate and towers. Wooden scaffolding had been erected in some spots, but in others they simply had the larger skyearls at work, lifting stones and putting them high up in the castle wall. The skies were strangely devoid of skyearls.

‘They must return,’ someone was shouting. ‘Trees! Tell them to return!’

‘We could take Lokshole back,’ someone else retorted angrily.

‘And lose thousands more of our people? To what end do we take Lokshole now? There are 1000 Zeikas holding it and 4400 heading here. You must bring back our troops before there are no troops to bring back.’

‘I don’t think you realise what—’

Captain Dathan slammed his stone cup down on a marble table-top. The sharp ‘ching’ stopped the cascade of voices abruptly. A tiny chip appeared in the thick, milky surface.

‘Haden is right. Recall them,’ he said simply.

‘Ciera refuses,’ someone said. ‘He is in a berserker rage and cannot be stopped.’

Suddenly all eyes were on me. Even though Ciera and I weren’t presently linked they still thought I was influencing his mood.

I licked my lips. ‘I cannot reach him. If I could I would send our soothing song to him…’

‘It is your anger that corrupts him,’ Saned accused me. ‘Before you came along, Emperor Ciera never lost control.’

The entire room fell silent, staring at him. Had he simply spoken the words that others had not been bold enough to speak? Did they really see me that way? Young, impetuous, influencing the great skyearl even without the waves?

When their eyes darted towards me, shame and hurt welled up. My chest tightened. After all I had done… After all I had been through did they expect me to not be angry? To always be in control of myself? With no kindred around to respond to my thoughts, my emotions boiled and whirled violently inside. Tiaro might as well have been a thousand leagues away.

‘Saned has not slept in days,’ Dathan said carefully. ‘Do not misunderstand his words, Taeon.’

Suddenly I wished I was with the strike force and the reassuring presence of other Anzaii. If it hadn’t been for Corypha, there would be dozens of Anzaii still around, people who could understand others; people who could understand me; people who could help me to reopen myself to the waves.

Now that I didn’t have access to the waves these people no longer had respect for me. They did not know me any more than my people in Jaria had known me.

‘No, I understand,’ I replied without malice. ‘All too clearly.’

I turned and walked from the room.

Chapter Twenty-two—Expansion

Jaalta found me sitting by the banks of the enormous moat around Condii Fortress. Plucking another pebble from the garden bed behind me, I allowed it to roll down into the water. Although I could not be anywhere outside without someone in Condii’s many towers being able to see me, it felt good to be away from the vista. The fresh air soothed the pounding of my face and teeth. The morning sun dried the sweat from my skin.

Jaalta, unable to speak at more than a whisper, chose to sit next to me in silence. She moved cautiously, trying not to tear her recent wounds. We sat for some time and I appreciated her quiet presence.

After a while I glanced down at her.

She closed her eyes at me, like a cat offering its trust. Instinctively I relaxed and closed my eyes back. When I opened them she offered her hand, palm up. Gently I placed my hand in hers. She rested our hands on her knee and faced the moat, breathing in slowly but audibly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I matched my breath to hers.

Listening to our breaths, the insects and the water I strained against the cloistering walls I had erected around my mind. While part of me had found solace in them another part felt trapped and isolated.

I had built the walls to protect myself and my fellow wave-users.

Now that the danger had passed I needed to overcome my fears.

I remembered the hawk that I had faced, in my vision, passing through the Tanzan barrier shield. I had given myself over to the waves completely. My fear of birds seemed silly now, and there were no butterflies in my stomach when I thought of them.

I breathed in and out, slowing my heartbeat.

‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ Jaalta’s thoughts came clearly into my mind. ‘Even when all my hope was lost, you were steadfast.’

Regaining the waves was like walking out of the shadows on a winter day. I turned my face to the sun, revelling in the light and warmth. My aunt’s love hit me like a torrent of warm water. I sensed Tiaro too, sending her own love and support to me in ripples. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the earring flash with blue light as my wave senses came alive once more.

‘Taeon!’ she celebrated.

‘Welcome back, Taeon.’ Jaalta’s wave was calm and trusting. ‘Thank the Nine!’

There were voices and pinpoints of light all around me, but it was easier to keep my focus on just a few now. Jaalta’s kindness was all the more meaningful to me considering she had just lost her Sleffion-kin. The death of Reen was like a gaping wound in her wave-presence, causing the sort of pain I knew from my childhood, yet she loved me.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ I said, sending every ounce of empathy through the waves that I could. I felt Tiaro join her sorrow with mine. Tears ran down Jaalta’s face but she made not a sound.

After a while I was surprised to see a smile on my aunt’s lips.

‘I knew you were still in there,’ she said.

‘If I could close myself in, why couldn’t I get out again?’ I asked her.

‘You have become very good at “closing yourself in” and I’m not just talking about the waves,’ she replied.

Had I been too withdrawn, too independent of those around me?

‘Wouldn’t you be, in my situation?’ I retorted gently. If she could read my mind, she obviously knew about the many struggles I’d faced as a child; the child of a grief-maddened father. It was natural that child had become a self-reliant, strong-willed man, wasn’t it?

She looked down at the dew-beaded lawn. ‘I just don’t want you to end up like your father.’

‘Nor do I,’ I agreed with vehemence.

She took my hand. ‘He loved your mother. His passions drove him… to his death.’

‘We must fight the Zeikas,’ I replied, wondering if my father had instilled this passion in me.

Jaalta shook her head. ‘Nay. All we must do is beat them.’

I didn’t know what she meant. What other way was there to best them? I stood and paced around. Being parted from Rekala, Sarlice and now Ciera was grinding me down. My left fist clenched around the belt from Jaria. It warmed to my touch, somehow making me feel more alert. Oh but it was good to have my wave senses back!

‘Who should we contact first?’ I queried Tiaro. If Ciera didn’t return soon he and his battalion would be overrun.

‘Sing,’ Tiaro suggested. ‘Sing and reach out to your Sleffion-kin. Bring him back from whatever darkness he has flown into.’

Halduronlei chimed in the waves as Tiaro and I worked together to recall it from memory. The song built slowly and we turned our attention to Ciera. My heart lurched when I found him many leagues away. He laboured both physically and mentally, taxing his body to within an inch of survival.

The distance between us was insubstantial in the waves now. It was as if he was only in the next room. Rage billowed off him like a storm. Bursts of fury washed over me, searing me with their heat. With the belt helping us, Tiaro and I projected the soothing song at Ciera with all our might. Its sad and meaningful tune locked the three of us together.

Emotions swirled in the void between us. Our connection no longer came to me in a purely auditory sense—brilliant colours burned through the waves. Ciera’s outline pulsated before me as he attacked the Zeikas at Lokshole. He took one final pass at the battlements before breaking off.

‘I heed you, Sleffion,’ he told me tiredly. ‘I heed you.’

He was breathing hard and I detected dozens of injuries in his massive frame. One of his forearms was enveloped with pain; probably a break or dislocation. Ciera roared and the skyearls that had continued to defend him, despite the orders coming from Condii, turned and followed him towards home.

‘Be calm,’ I told him. ‘There are other battles to be fought.’

He made no reply. His anger still boiled so strongly that he could barely think straight. There was also something else… some other burden dragging at him…

‘Raer is falling,’ he reported angrily. ‘And I am not strong enough to sustain it.’

He flapped his wings in powerful sweeps, leading the strike force and flying the Condii defenders back to the city.

‘But Centan will be damaged,’ I responded carefully.

Ciera snorted. ‘They evacuate the Dome of Gathering as we speak. They cannot even help us move Raer over the falls.’

‘There are other shrouders with such ability?’ I queried.

He sighed. ‘Not many, and all but a few of the creators of Raer perished before we could accomplish the plan.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I told him. My situation with the strategists seemed unimportant in light of this news, yet I couldn’t keep it from him. The reminder of my problems seemed to bring him back into focus. We did not discuss his berserker rage.

‘Something is different,’ he said instead. ‘Despite the distance between us, our waves are so clear.’

I looked down at the belt and said, ‘It’s strange, you know. I’ve had it all this time and never realised…’

‘The Jarian belt aids you somehow?’ Ciera queried.

The Ancient Sapphire Tree in the Land of a Thousand Perils had willingly given one of its shards to my Jarian ancestors. Namal had shown it to me in the Catacombs of Krii, and here I stood with an artefact made from that tree. Was the belt able to augment the waves, just as the tree itself was?

My mind spun with questions, but I was also aware of Ciera’s intense struggles. Although our waves were clear, it seemed to take more and more of his strength to concentrate on our conversation. For the first time ever, the smell of his exhaustion reached me through the waves. It suffocated me such that I found myself coughing on the ground. With growing alarm, I realised Ciera’s flight path was taking him lower and lower to the ground.

‘Are you hale enough to make the flight?’ I asked him.

‘Too much…’ he responded. ‘I cannot hold it aloft any longer.’

His body skimmed low over a field of stubby trees. Several branches scraped his underside, some even penetrating the fur and gouging the thick skin due to the force of his fall. As he came to an exhausted crash landing, something inside him gave way. To Ciera’s immense skyearl senses, it was as if a sinew within his own body suddenly tore. Pain ripped through him, and me.

Through the belt and Ciera’s connection to the shroud, Raer, I saw the great sky palace and all its foundations crash down onto Centan. The bulk of it crashed into the Dome of Gathering and the Ancient Sapphire Tree inside shattered to pieces. So, they’re not completely indestructible.

A shockwave followed, like a tsunami punching through the waves. I watched in horror as all those with wave senses were affected, one after the other.

The shockwave bubbled out. With the Jarian Anzaii belt in my hand, I was able to perceive the shockwave’s effects all across Tanza. The tens of thousands of wave-users in the realm were floored by the sudden impact of the breaking of the Ancient Sapphire Tree in Centan. For some it was their last moment alive. Wherever they were in battle, the Zeikas took full advantage of the distraction.

I found my awareness hovering over the armies between Lowford and Highford. A defender army of some 5000 warriors had embarked to help Highford only to be intercepted on open ground. The Zeikas wiped out the last of their number before my very eyes.

‘Crystom! Em!’ I cried out.

With Jaalta’s help, the belt enabled me to search out the king and queen within a few minutes. Of all places, they were both inside the Dome of Gathering.

Panels of stone and glass shattered around them as the outer walls crumbled inwards. As I watched in horror, the pressure on the last remaining blocks of the ceiling became too much. King Crystom was pulling at Em’s legs, trying to get her clear of the falling debris. She pushed forward relentlessly, grasping for a single large leaf of the Ancient Sapphire Tree that had shot clear of the first pile of rubble.

Finally she had it in her hand and the two of them fled from the collapsing building.

Structures from Raer toppled in after them, crushing whatever was left of the passages and tunnels in the dome.

Afterwards, not an inch of the tree was visible in the wreck. I felt like a spirit hovering over them, unable to help. Perhaps with the belt, I could help.

I gestured at Jaalta, allowing her to read my thoughts. She placed her hand on my waist so that some of her fingers were touching the leafshards directly. Together we reached out for Crystom and Em.

‘Jaalta? Taeon?’ came Crystom’s bewildered reply.

He had sprained his ankle and Em bore many cuts and bruises from her dash into the dome.

‘Zeikas have defeated a Lowford defender army on its way to Highford,’ I blurted, hoping to at least get that vital piece of information to them before our communication over the waves was interrupted.

The king and queen looked at each other.

‘How are you doing this far-waving with us?’ Em wanted to know.

‘It’s the belt,’ Jaalta said. ‘Taeon’s been out of the waves a while, but I helped him open up again. Now, with our combined Anzaii abilities and using the belt, we seem to be able to reach further.’

‘You said the Lowford army has been slain?’ Crystom queried, unable to keep his dread from reaching us. There were hundreds of souls in that army he knew well, and even those he didn’t know were precious to him.

‘Aye,’ I confirmed. ‘I saw it as I watched a shockwave from the breaking of the Ancient Sapphire Tree.’

‘May I ask what you were doing in the dome?’ Jaalta said.

Em replied, ‘I wanted to recover a leaf from the tree—for you and Taeon.’

She risked her life for it. Was she going to have it fashioned into a Tanzan Anzaii artefact, like the Jarian belt?

Crystom and Em were distracted by a group of Tanzans who came to escort them to safety. Both of their Sleffion-kin were nearby, ready to fly them out of the waterfall city.

Crystom said, ‘From what I can tell, you are both already reaching further and more clearly than you ever have before, to another human.’

Jaalta and I agreed.

‘It is the leafshard belt from Jaria,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve carried it with me all this time and never realised its true purpose.’ Then to Jaalta I said, ‘The nine seeds mentioned in the history scrolls have grown into the Ancient Sapphire Trees. Are you suggesting that if pieces from all nine trees are brought together something will happen?’

‘It seems possible they can be combined somehow and used to augment Anzaii abilities,’ she replied. ‘The Centan tree has long been used for bettering our communication. Perhaps these artefacts will be more effective when kept together.’

‘I hope so,’ Crystom replied. ‘Right now, I will take any advantage we can get. We are coming to Condii. We’ll talk more then.’

‘Yes, sire,’ I replied.

As Crystom and Em made preparations for their departure, I turned my attention back to Ciera. He had lain still for a long time after his crash landing, ignoring the efforts of his skyearl companions to rouse him. He had listened to the conversation between Crystom, Em, Jaalta and I and sent his feelings of support to me.

‘I behaved badly,’ he admitted after a while. ‘I ignored orders from Condii. I got countless Tanzans killed…’

‘We are at war,’ I replied, trying to reassure him. ‘Are you able to return?’

He dipped his head. ‘Yes, after I have consumed this grove.’

I chuckled at the thought of him eating an entire grove. He pulled himself to his feet and opened his tremendous jaws to eat some of the palm tree leaves and pine saplings that had been left in front of him by his fellows. The rough branches scraped away the blood and human remains that had caught between his teeth, but the memories were harder for him to get rid of.

I used the rest of Trayaday to communicate with Rekala, Sarlice, Kestric, Tyba, Skylien, Dathan, Jett, Tivac and even Riftweaver. All were relieved to hear I was back on the waves and stronger than ever. The kindred I used to forge the wave connections were honoured to be assisting the master psion.

Prince Tyba was astonished that I could reach directly to humans within ten yards and detect them on the waves from even further away. I was pleased that I could reach Sarlice from leagues away. Tiaro theorised this was because we were so close. Our minds naturally followed a similar wavelength.

Sarlice had heard a fragmented version of what had been happening in Condii. There were far worse tales coming from the fords. By sheer force of numbers, the Zeikas were gaining control. A force as high as 10,000 Zeikas now descended upon Highford.

The 7000 Zeikas that remained after killing Lowford’s defenders during the shockwave continued on to Lowford. Civilians fled the town, knowing well it could not hold back forces of that size without its army. From so far away, it was heart-wrenching to have to watch and know I could do nothing to help.

Ciera, and the Condii defenders who’d remained with him, arrived back in town and joined a war camp near the decimated barracks. The emperor skyearl had barely staggered in through the gates before he collapsed in the parade grounds to sleep. I watched through the waves as skyearls swarmed around him, forcing him to wake long enough to drink water and have his injured arm splinted.

In the evening I made my way down to him to stay by his side through the night. With nobody else around I decided to reach out again to the most important person in my life. I hooked my thumb over the Jarian belt and thought of Sarlice. I expected her to be somewhere in Lantaid. I let my thoughts wander out over Condii and shoot west.

Beyond the brighter presences of Rada-kin were Sleffion-kin and the dim lights of humans. I was certain the difference in brightness was due to my ability to reach each kind of being, not because they were any larger or smaller in their own wave-presences. If that was true then my familiarity with Sarlice ought to make her brighter to my wave-senses than the other humans. But where was she?

I quested around the city of Lantaid without finding her. My head ached as I strained to keep my awareness floating as I searched.

‘Try looking for Rekala first,’ Tiaro suggested.

I was able to locate Rekala straight away. Sure enough, there was Sarlice, up a tree in the twilit night. Lying on her stomach watching Rekala and Kestric down below. Thita was perched on the branch in front of her, chirruping about all the different lichen, creepers, vines and moths in their vicinity.

‘Sarlice,’ I called.

‘Taeon?’ she said aloud, shocked.

‘Where?’ Thita barked.

‘Here in the waves,’ I said, pulling Sarlice’s thoughts toward me so she was able to reply.

‘How are you… you can communicate with other people now? I thought you had shut down your wave senses.’

‘I got them back, and with a vengeance,’ I replied. ‘It’s this belt from Jaria. It contains leafshards from one of the nine Ancient Sapphire Trees. You remember the tree in Centan, how they used it to enhance communications? My belt does the same thing, I just never knew it.’

‘That’s… that’s amazing, Taeon. So you can read human minds…?’

‘Not exactly,’ I replied. ‘Well, strong thoughts come out and I can glean those, but I can’t just pick a random person and listen to all their thoughts. I can initiate a mental conversation from a distance. If I’m touching someone I might be able to read their thoughts, but most people have some sort of mental barrier.’

‘Taeon, are you well? Is Ciera? Thita said he can’t reach him.’

‘He is exhausted,’ I replied. ‘The sky palace crashed into the Dome of Gathering. Ciera couldn’t hold it any longer. He was in a battle at Lokshole while I recovered from rescuing Jaalta. So much has happened, Sarlice.’

‘Slow down and tell me all about it,’ she commanded. I obeyed.

We conversed for over half an hour before my concentration started to waver. Like most of the defenders in Lantaid, Sarlice was aware of the Zeika army on approach.

‘I wish we could be there with you,’ Sarlice said.

‘I got your letter,’ I replied, resting my aching head in my hands. ‘Thank you. I did consider it, but it’s safer this way.’

‘Safer?’ I couldn’t decide if she was incredulous or offended. Her mental voice started to become fuzzy on the waves.

‘You and the kindred should leave Tanza,’ I pressed.

‘Why shouldn’t we help to defend it just like you?’

‘Pretty soon, there won’t be much left to defend,’ I said.

I strained to hear her reply. ‘It sounds like you’re giving up.’

‘No, never that! But the Zeikas have taken most of the realm.’

‘Be that as it may,’ she replied stiffly, ‘it is our duty to defend the weak—’

‘Do it!’ I interrupted, pain making my thoughts towards her harsher than I intended. ‘Take the weak out through the Tanzan chasm. Do it while you still can.’

‘Taeon, I don’t like the way you’re talking.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my connection slipping. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’

‘I miss you,’ I said aloud, after the wave had broken.

Ciera stirred beside me, but remained in slumber.

I pictured Sarlice’s strong face and blue eyes. If only we’d had more time together. With the future so uncertain, I felt a longing for her that went beyond friendship. It would be comforting to have her with me right now, to make the most of what time we had left.

No kindred could ever be what Sarlice was to me, a woman I loved. A woman I wanted with every fibre of my being. The question was, did she want me?

My head was pounding so I lay down. I wished Rekala was here. Jett had brought me a pallet and blankets, but it was hard to sleep. The noises from people and skyearls all around us made my head ache even more. I longed for the peace and quiet of Jaria’s forests or the hush of a dry plain just before dawn.

Ciera had a fitful sleep as well. Every time he twitched, I feared he might roll on top of me. Steeling myself, I held my position by his lower jaw and hummed Halduronlei through the waves. It seemed to calm him enough to sleep more soundly. Eventually, I drifted off as well.

As soon as Crystom and Em arrived, they took charge of the strategy meetings in Condii fortress, straightening out some of the tensions that had been building. Crystom conferred with his closest advisors, including Em, Tyba, Dathan, Varal, Amadeus, Ciera and, to my surprise, me. During that time, we learned of the full details of every battle around the realm and how valiantly all the defender commanders had conducted themselves.

For every bit of ground gained by the Zeikas, they suffered unheard-of losses. The numbers of our enemy were so high that the scouts and counters all across the realm were expressing their inability to maintain accurate records.

After I explained how Jaria’s Anzaii artefact seemed to be working, Em gave Jaalta the leaf from the Ancient Sapphire Tree in Centan. It was shaped somewhat like a shield, but only slightly bigger than my hand with outstretched fingers. The edges were sharp enough to cut so we had it mounted on a steel plate with a bracket on the back so it could be held like a shield or attached to armour.

Jaalta and I used the Anzaii artefacts to facilitate a meeting on the waves between Crystom and his commanders.

‘We mourn terrible loss of life all across the realm,’ Crystom said. ‘Tanza is in its most desperate hour. If we are to have any hope of survival, we must band together now.’

‘We flee Kovain on the morrow,’ said a solemn female on the waves, Commander Lorik. ‘With some 5000 defender warriors and at least 120,000 civilians—we are sure to lose a few along the way. Supplies are being gathered and stored on boats. The people will travel by foot to Centan.’

‘Trees be with you,’ Crystom said.

Commander Selten of Lowford and Commander Risca of Highford agreed it was pointless now to expend more lives.

‘We concentrate, now, on helping our people to evacuate,’ Selten affirmed.

‘The Zeikas will expect us to make our last stand in Centan,’ Tyba said to the seventeen gathered minds.

‘We must not let them discover when Centan has been evacuated,’ one of the advisors added.

Crystom spoke up. ‘We will have hunting parties on patrol in the skies around the falls, to kill any Zeika scouts or squadrons.’

It took every bit of skill Jaalta, Galtoro, Tiaro and I had to use the two Anzaii artefacts as a bridge for their conversation. Other Anzaii, in each location, added their strength to the communion. But it was far too taxing. Somebody pushed both Jaalta and I into seats and wiped our brows with wet cloths. I devoured the food that was given to me, without even knowing what it was. I felt Ciera’s furry toe against my right shoulder when he lifted his foot up to the armrest. His touch lent me strength.

‘Do the skyearls have anything to add, Ciera?’ Crystom asked.

My Sleffion-kin used my connection to the group to get a good look at everyone who was present on the waves before responding. ‘We are greatly saddened by our inability to protect you from this foe,’ Ciera said. ‘Skyearls haven’t gathered for a meeting in a season, nor will we now that the realm is in such peril, but I have spoken with the eldest of our kind and the highest ranking skyearls in the defender army. We all agree to follow your lead, King and Queen.’

‘We thank you for your loyalty,’ Em responded. ‘The service of the skyearls to our people is not taken for granted. We are sorry for your losses.’

‘Thousands of skyearls have perished,’ Ciera mourned, ‘but we feel the loss of human and Rada-kin lives just as keenly. Every life lost is a mission failed,’ he lamented.

Feeling the decades of experience behind his emotion, my vision swam. Tiaro bolstered me as best she could, but the gathered minds shimmered and wavered for a moment. Beside me, Em placed a hand on Ciera’s massive paw and there was silence for a few minutes.

Eventually Crystom spoke again. ‘Usually the skyearls have certain issues to bring to my attention. Do you—’

Ciera seemed impressed he had brought it up. ‘There are some trivial matters between some of the kin pairs and their respective leaders, but all that pales into insignificance in the face of evacuation.’

‘It does at that,’ Crystom agreed. ‘I have a pile of scrolls taller than me from the wave messengers. Issues, bah, may the waters take them. Ciera has the right of it. What we don’t need right now are any more issues. All right, commanders? You deal with critically important matters only now. Life and death, care for the wounded and the orphaned, shelter and supplies, weapons and armour, attack and defence. Encourage and elevate your most pragmatic and compassionate leaders. Stand down any trouble-makers with “issues”.’

The plans and discussions continued, but I no longer had the energy to consciously think about them. My vision swam with vertigo. When it became clear that Jaalta and I could hold out no longer, Ciera ended the gathering of minds.

King Crystom placed one hand on my shoulder afterwards, saying, ‘My thanks, Taeon. If there is anything you need, please ask.’

My thoughts were of the Jarians. Despite having a Rada-kin and a Sleffion-kin who could chain minds, we had been unable to reach any kindred with Bessed or the others.

‘My pleasure to serve, Your Majesty.’ I sighed. ‘Was there any news from the scouting party you sent to Jaria?’

He gestured to Samos, who was over the other side of the vista, and conferred with him before answering. ‘Eldry and Tralvard reported in this morning. Sad to say they have not located any Jarians in the Zeika quarry.’

‘And Jaria Village?’

‘In ruins.’ Seeing my shoulders slump, he added, ‘They will keep searching.’

I had invited my aunt to share my chamber, so we staggered there together. After being connected to so many minds, I felt disoriented and alone. Jett held a steadying hand on my back.

I fell into a dismal heap as soon as I made it to the bed. Jett pulled off my boots and shirt and extinguished the torches around the room.

Chapter Twenty-three—Communication

Before venturing from my chambers on 178 Trayaday I took a few minutes to read through the history scroll I’d obtained from the ritualists in Lantaid. The seed that was borne to the Council of Water was clearly what had grown into the Ancient Sapphire Tree of Centan. The Land of a Thousand Perils was Naioteio, where I had seen the tree in the Catacombs of Krii.

A ‘City of Snow’ could be anywhere to the south west, in the Kiayr Ranges, but Siffre was the only realm I knew of with cities where it snowed. A town fed by a spring might be worth investigating for this ‘Spring of Understanding’. But what was meant by a running rock? I had no idea what the others meant, either, but I was starting to think about who I could ask—the ritualists, a Kriite historian or archaeologist, perhaps.

I rubbed the Jarian belt, appreciating the cool smoothness of the sapphire tree leaves that decorated it. The blue shards twinkled in the torchlight of my room but, unlike the shards in my earring, they had no light of their own.

Were Anzaii meant to journey to the other seven Ancient Sapphire Trees in the hope they would give over a leafshard? Was I? If I possessed an artefact made from each one’s leaves, would my effectiveness multiply or was there a limit? Would new powers emerge?

After the events of the past four days, it didn’t seem likely anybody from Tanza would have time to go on pilgrimages to the trees or answer my questions. After the Centan Ancient was crushed, the secretive ritualists were said to have fled the realm.

Both Lowford and Highford had fallen, with 50,000 civilians and less than a thousand warriors having made it to Jesath. They were refugees now, and their future was uncertain.

The legion of Zeikas that had been too numerous to count, last time I’d heard of them, had been estimated at 18,000. These had made their way to Lantaid; it was the same army that scouts had reported only a week ago near Fireflow Mountain. Sarlice was among the warriors positioned at the Hills of Everstain, once again, to meet them.

The survivors from Kovain made it to Centan the same day the Zeikas engaged our people at Everstain. Under the cover of darkness that evening, the entire population of Centan and Kovain embarked on their journey toward Condii. There were 350,000 civilians altogether, a number neither Tiaro nor I could grasp. The even higher death toll was sudden and catastrophic. Even the counters didn’t have reliable numbers for that as it was a developing situation. We relied heavily on Ciera’s greater experience and wisdom to comprehend all that was going on.

Although the Centanians had been stockpiling supplies for weeks, there was widespread panic in Condii about lack of food and potable water.

It took four days for the people of Centan and Kovain to reach Condii, during which time the barrier around the Cascade City was lifted and the mists rushed in.

Also during that time, it was discovered that 20,000 Zeikas were heading towards Centan, from all corners of the realm, which could only mean one thing. Our enemies were coming for the killing blow. They just didn’t know we were in Condii and not Centan.

King Crystom’s hunting parties slew any Zeika scouts that strayed towards Centan. The net of defenders around the waterfall city was so tight that not a single spy got through. At all times there were about 500 skyearls flying at various heights around Centan, protecting it in a gigantic skyearl-bubble. Little did the Zeikas know that what they protected was an abandoned city.

‘If only all those skyearls had been able to help you with Raer,’ I said to Ciera who was outside helping coordinate fortifications at the sentry towers. His injured forearm was held in a sling at his chest and he sat with his other three paws on the ground.

‘Alas,’ he replied. ‘The art of maintaining sky kingdoms has nearly been lost. It was a speciality of my breed, but most keltoars have perished or flown away across the Kiayr Range.’

‘I wish I could reach across Kiayr with the waves,’ I replied. ‘Perhaps I could find a force of Tanzans to fly back and turn the tide on this war. I am unable to reach that far.’

‘Even with the Anzaii artefacts boosting your abilities, you must take it slowly,’ Ciera said with a sigh. ‘As much as it would be fortuitous to have some allies to help us right now, you should keep your focus here.’

‘Isn’t Ravra an ally?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but few of them have Kriite blood, so they do not have an easy way into our realm. They offer us sanctuary within their borders, but expecting them to send soldiers to die in our land is another thing entirely.

‘I want you to use the waves to kill Zeikas. Try to leave the communications to others where possible. Your entrapment and confusion abilities are going to be pivotal in the coming battles.’

‘Ciera’s right,’ Tiaro agreed. ‘Communication is taking its toll on our reserves. Your focus would be better spent on the front lines.’

Even though the two artefacts made using the waves easier for me, I tried not to reach out too far. People were perishing in every direction and the pain of those final moments was unbearable.

‘Good morning, Master Psion,’ Jett said as he came into the room.

Many of the furnishings had vanished over the past week; makeshift places of abode were popping up all over Condii and just about every room in the fortress had been converted into sleeping quarters for the defenders. I was glad to at least be sharing my room with Jett and Jaalta. My aunt had already departed, leaving her bed neatly made.

‘Good morning, Jett.’

‘We are starting to see the effects of the rationing now,’ he told me as he handed me a small bowl of porridge and a buttered scone.

I waved my hand. ‘This is adequate. Thank you.’

Jett muttered something under his breath.

‘What was that?’ I asked, spooning the porridge up.

‘Oh… nothing, Taeon, I was just complaining because even the prisoners are still getting their normal rations. I admit that prison food is a step below defender food, but still…’

‘That reminds me,’ I began, ‘isn’t Corypha being held in the prison? I was hoping to have a talk with him.’

‘Can’t you just locate him in the waves now, like any of us would with our kin?’

‘You know what? I probably can, but I won’t waste the psionic energy. Can we go to him?’

‘Prince Tyba has been to see him many times,’ Jett replied. ‘In fact, I believe he’s with the traitor again now, trying to unravel what’s been going on with that wave cult.’

‘Truly? You must take me there,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I can help Tyba persuade him to talk.’

‘Very well.’

I ate my scone on the way to the prison, which was located towards the back of Condii Fortress. A short flight of stone stairs brought us to the barricaded wooden entry where two guards were on duty. Recognising both myself and Jett, the pair stood aside. We passed dozens of iron-barred cells, most of which contained multiple occupants, before coming to a more heavily fortified room.

A skyearl was imprisoned in a stone cell we passed, his fur matted and bloody.

‘What’s going on here?’ I asked.

The skyearl threw himself at the bars, claws lashing out for me as I passed.

‘What’s going on here?’ the creature mimicked savagely.

‘This was one half of a renegade pair,’ Jett explained. ‘The human died while fleeing capture and the Sleffion-kin went on a rampage. He’s deranged. We’ve had people trying to work with him, but it isn’t looking good.’

‘Where’s Corypha?’

‘Corypha, Corypha, Corypha!’ the skyearl chanted, turning his head sideways and showing me the white of one eye.

‘This way,’ Jett said, leading me further down the hall.

We came to a room with just one cell inside. It was stone up to waist height with iron bars all around the top so the prison guards could see in. The traitor’s belongings were on a table not far from the cell and included a multi-faceted crystalline ring, the symbol of the Wavekeepers.

‘Let me get this straight,’ Tyba said as we came up behind him, ‘you admit to being part of the Wavekeeper cult, whose mission is to kill all Anzaii.’

‘I have nothing to be ashamed of,’ Corypha declared. ‘The Anzaii are an infection in our ranks, like a sniffle that soon leads to death chills. We must prevent them from being used against us. You have already seen the destruction that can occur—’

‘I’ve had enough of your proselytising!’ Tyba shouted.

The guard who was in the cell with them moved a little closer to Corypha, threatening him with his mace.

‘Did you or did you not poison the strike force?’ Tyba asked.

Corypha sneered at him, with his lower jaw jutting forward. ‘As I’ve told you, it was a necessary part of the plan.’

‘Who’s plan?’ Tyba demanded, grabbing Corypha by the front of his shirt.

Corypha pursed his lips, defying his prince.

I pushed my way into the cell, pleased that the guard allowed me in. Jett watched through the bars.

‘Morning, Tyba,’ I said with a quick bow.

‘Taeon,’ he responded, releasing Corypha from his grip with a shove.

Tyba’s brows were pinched tight, making deep vertical lines in his forehead. Although slightly shorter than me, his royal demeanour was already apparent.

‘Vile demon—’ Corypha snarled at me, shoving me backwards into Tyba.

Without thinking, I slammed the base of my palm into Corypha’s face. He hunched down, stunned.

‘What other betrayal have you set in motion?’ I demanded.

Bent over before me, Corypha looked pathetic. I could sense that his fears and self-righteousness were what drove him to such extreme beliefs. He put up one hand to fend me off, while holding his chin with the other. I pushed past his defences easily and dragged him to his feet.

‘Speak!’ I commanded, pushing him back against the wall by his throat. The hair stood up all over my body and I noticed mottled icetiger fur on my forearms. The colours available to my vision faded, but the brightness and clarity soared.

I impelled him to speak not only with my words and my body, but also with the waves. The traitor didn’t have much mental fortitude so he found my words hard to disobey.

‘Very well,’ he gasped. I let him go and he sank onto his knees.

‘I sent the details of your kin in Lantaid,’ he said. ‘They were to capture them and the red-head, using them to lure you into a trap.’

‘Who?’ I half-shouted, half-roared.

He flinched at the sight of claws on my upraised hand. The teeth in my mouth had turned pointy, rage driving me into icetiger form through no conscious effort.

‘The others,’ Corypha stammered. ‘I don’t know who they all are.’

‘Fool!’ Tyba accused him. ‘How do you know they aren’t Zeikas, using you to gain information? You are guilty of the very crime of which you accuse others.’

‘No!’ Corypha cried, looking up into the prince’s eyes. ‘They are other Wavekeepers like me, unbound people… or people with maybe just one kin. We don’t use the waves to communicate; it is too risky.’ He cast an obstinate look in my direction. ‘Instead we use traditional, incorruptible means to contact each other over long distances.’

Tyba and I exchanged a look.

‘Incorruptible?’ Tyba asked in disbelief. ‘The waves are our most sacred and secure means of communicating.’

Corypha stammered, ‘A penned scroll is more secure—’

‘It is less secure you imbecile,’ I interrupted. ‘The ideal way for missives to be sent and fall into the wrong hands, even turn up elsewhere completely changed.’

Corypha appeared stricken by this idea.

‘Why the elaborate deception?’ Tyba asked him, trying to keep him from clamming up. My presence had provoked a response in the prisoner and he wanted to take advantage of it. ‘Why not just kill the Anzaii yourself?’

Corypha rubbed at his head, clearly in pain. ‘Operatives like me don’t kill openly because we want to maintain our positions as spies.’

‘You are the cowards,’ I accused him.

Tyba shook his head at me and I fell silent.

‘That way we can keep sending information,’ Corypha continued quietly, ‘or take concealed opportunities to kill Anzaii.’

‘Like the poisoning of the strike force,’ Tyba accused him.

Corypha’s face was dripping with sweat. Blood had collected under one nostril. He made no reply.

‘Come, Taeon,’ Tyba said gravely. ‘I’ve heard enough.’

‘Yes, sire,’ I replied.

‘But what about me…’ Corypha murmured pitifully.

Tyba’s mouth was a flat line as he looked over the prisoner and his cell.

‘You will be tried for treason,’ Tyba said. To the guards he added, ‘For the time being, give him criminal’s rations, no privileges.’

Even in a time of war as desperate as this, Tanza was renowned for its humane protocols. There would be no starving of prisoners. It was deeply ingrained in their culture that those in power had a duty of care to treat others fairly. Tyba and I left the cell, and Jett followed behind us.

‘Do you really think the Zeikas might be behind all this?’ I asked Tyba.

He rubbed his eyes. ‘If it is being masterminded by the Zeikas, then I have to face the idea of there being intelligent Kriites out there who genuinely condone murder…’

‘We know there’s Corypha,’ I said.

Tyba raised an eyebrow at me. ‘I said “intelligent”. Corypha is a follower; both he and his Sleffion-kin are, you might say, “easily lead”.’

‘How did they get into your elite guard in the strike force, then?’ I queried.

Tyba threw his hands up. A group of people was approaching from down the hall, eyes fixed on the prince. Jett headed them off so we could keep talking. Tyba and I hurried past them.

‘He was Anzaii Klutha’s aide. She wouldn’t have joined without him. She was the first to die.’

I sighed. ‘Corypha is a fool, but I am an even bigger fool for telling him about Sarlice going to Lantaid.’

‘Hopefully nothing will come of it,’ Tyba said. ‘We don’t even know who Corypha’s information was given to.’

I nodded. ‘I have warned her about the Wavekeeper plot, but I wish there was more I could do to protect her.’

‘Do you want me to order her to be taken somewhere safe, with guards?’ Tyba asked.

‘No,’ I replied, ‘she wouldn’t appreciate that.’

Tyba smirked at me. ‘She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who needs protecting.’

‘That’s true,’ I agreed. ‘She will not put herself before Tanza. Nothing will stop her from fighting, not even me.’

‘It sounds like you both consider yourselves Tanzans, now,’ the prince observed.

‘We are Kriites,’ I responded. ‘Tanza is the last great Kriite nation. Soon, I think nations will not be so important.’

‘You see the world differently to me,’ Tyba said.

Despite Jett’s efforts, our conversation was soon interrupted. On our way to the vista, Tyba was trailed by at least six people trying to relay messages to him. I overheard that the civilians from Centan could no longer fit inside the walls of Condii. Over 100,000 had started to make camp between the six towers at the front gate.

Food, water, rubbish and disease were all becoming problems, even with supplies being purchased from Tanza’s ally, Ravra.

‘There’s naught we can do,’ Tyba replied. ‘Have the reinforcements been sent to aid the spy-hunters around Centan?’

‘Yes, sire,’ came the reply.

More Zeika movements were reported than I cared to comprehend. Using the Jarian belt I engaged my enhanced wave-senses to detect all the scurrying people in the corridors ahead of us. I held my hand in front of Tyba as we reached an intersection and enabled a group of thirty footsoldiers to pass.

‘Thank you, Taeon,’ he said.

The messengers started up again the moment we were moving. I screened them out, trying instead to narrow my wave-perceptions down to a few select individuals… here was Corypha stewing about his treatment and wishing he hadn’t told us so much about the Wavekeepers… there was strategist Saned, still fretting and worrying so much that he couldn’t sleep. Using the waves to locate people was taxing. I stopped when my vision began to swim. I concentrated on my own kin instead, which was much easier.

Tiaro was here in my ear and her presence was close to all my thoughts. Ciera had made his way back to Condii Fortress and now sat in the shade conversing with about two dozen skyearls. The skyearls were attempting to tighten the net of flying skyearls around Condii. I was surprised to find that one of their aims was locating Miletus, Corypha’s Sleffion-kin.

Tyba and I had to push past crowds of people to gain entry to the vista. Although mostly military personnel, there were countless people milling around. I recognised some faces from the strike force. Most hailed me with a wave or a salute. I found myself smiling in their company. At last we were all together.

King Crystom, Queen Em, Commander Varal and Captain Dathan were at the head of the strategy table, each looking fresh and clean if not exactly rested. Strategists Ervan and Sigthan were present as well as two whose names I didn’t know. The others were on their rest break.

Jaalta was seated at the table, with the Centan shield in front of her. I took off the Jarian belt and placed it next to the shield. Crystom and Em gave Tyba and I a welcoming smile.

‘…not much time now,’ Captain Dathan was saying. ‘If the new legion from Lokshole has made good time, they will reach us tomorrow.’

‘What of all the civilians at our front gate?’ Commander Varal asked King Crystom.

‘We will not let the Zeikas get that close,’ the king replied. ‘Prince Tyba will lead the defenders against them.’

‘Yes!’ Tyba exclaimed. ‘There’re only 4400. We shall crush them now before more arrive.’

‘It’s important we stop the Zeikas from destroying their own supplies once they realise the battle has been lost,’ Ervan said. ‘With so many mouths to feed here and so many casualties, we are desperate for food, bandages, sinew for stitching wounds, tonics, clothing—’

‘Yes, of course,’

‘We must use careful tactics,’ Captain Dathan counselled him. ‘The defenders number nearly 20,000 in Condii now, but we need about half of those to stay near Condii in case of unexpected attacks and to help the civilians settle in.’

‘Granted,’ Tyba said. ‘But I am glad to have this opportunity to take the battle to them. We have been too reactive most of this time. As Taeon has demonstrated, the key to survival is going on the offensive. Since I will be occupied with the army, I would like to appoint Taeon and Ciera to lead the strike force.’

There was a wash of quiet murmuring throughout the hall. Without the belt, I was unable to read their thoughts. I noticed a nearly imperceptible nod from Captain Dathan to the king.

‘Very well,’ Crystom replied.

‘That’s settled then,’ said Queen Em. She looked me in the eyes. ‘Taeon, are you feeling up to the task?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ I responded formally. ‘And yet, who am I, a rookie, to lead the most important squadron of the army?’

Em and Crystom exchanged glances.

‘Come here,’ Crystom said gruffly.

I had to stop myself from gulping. What now?

‘Kneel,’ said the king. ‘Cross your arms over your chest.’

In front of everyone, the king of Tanza drew his sword and tapped me first on my left shoulder and then on my right.

‘I, Crystom, King of Tanza, hereby promote you, Master Psion Taeon of Jaria, to the rank of Specialist.’

A mixture of applause and sharply indrawn breaths echoed about the chamber. I glimpsed a small smile on Jett’s lips. Tyba also gave me a wink.

‘Thank you, sire,’ I responded, heart beating fast. All my doubts about my recent boldness and outspoken behaviour evaporated. If the king and queen supported me, then that was enough to dissuade any naysayers. I was a little disappointed Saned was on his rest break—the look on his face would have been satisfying.

‘Don’t be too smug, Taeon,’ Ciera said from outside. ‘Specialists have far more responsibility than rookies. I tried to protect you from too much while you were still finding out who you are and what you can do. You have brought this upon yourself.’

His words weren’t unkind, just resigned to the inevitable.

‘I know,’ I replied.

King Crystom gestured for me to stand up.

‘Keep those on your person,’ Queen Em said, pointing at the Anzaii artefacts on the table. ‘You and Jaalta may do with them as you see fit.’

‘Thank you.’

Noise rose in the vista as the gathered civilians and defenders in the hall discussed what they had just witnessed. I got the impression it had been a while since a newcomer, like me, had been elevated through the ranks so quickly.

Queen Em raised her hands for quiet.

‘You will take down this Zeika legion,’ Queen Em said to both Tyba and me. With a glance at Strategist Ervan, she emphasised to Tyba, ‘You must also secure their supplies and bring them back here.’

‘May the Ancient Sapphire Trees light our path,’ Tyba intoned.

Chapter Twenty-four—Summoners

We spent the rest of that day meeting with the strike force and the squadron leaders, drawing up plans for the coming battle. My imprinted knowledge of the area around Condii proved very useful. Many of the squadron leaders had grown up in this area of Tanza and knew the lay of the land. I would have felt useless to the discussions if it hadn’t been for the two Rada-kin who’d shared their knowledge with me.

Naltoch nodded to me from his perch on Jett’s shoulder. As a local from Condii, he had made an effort to share his knowledge of the city and surrounding areas with all the foreign Anzaii.

There were eleven Anzaii left in the strike force and only five of them knew Condii from past experience. Like me, Aerilaya, Nirixa, Quetanav, Rialb, Sioned and Kass had all received imprinting from Naltoch, Kotor and other local Rada-kin.

Even with this knowledge, I had little experience coordinating a battle so I relied on my sense of logic as well as Ciera’s guidance during the discussions. My Sleffion-kin stood at my side while Tyba laid out his plans on the table. The king and queen were resting in their chambers, completely trusting their son to carry out their orders. I marvelled at such closeness and confidence in their relationship.

Tyba had chosen a specific pocket of woodland that was sheltered on one side by one of the immense tree-covered tors that characterised the area. It was open on the other side, but featured a series of hummocks and crevices where hundreds of footsoldiers could wait in ambush.

Further up the hill was an overhang of grey stone where counters and strategists could gather to watch the battle and give their advice to us mid-battle. They could also see the road to the south from that position.

By the next morning just about all 10,000 of the defender soldiers in our battalion were positioned around the area. Squadrons of between ten and fifty scout-hunters soared in the air above us, with many more to the east, preventing Zeika scouts from perceiving exactly where we were. Rada with wyverns and birds of prey flew in clouds around the much larger skyearls.

A group of only a few hundred Zeikas on dragons were the first to come upon our spot. As soon as they saw the first Tanzan army at the top of the hill, two of them aboutfaced and shot away. The rest hovered in defiance of our hunters, tempting them to leave their designated places.

Instead of allowing them to pursue, Tyba gestured for me to lead the strike force forward. With my fellow Anzaii positioned beside me and all their kin and guardians behind, I strode into battle.

I carried Fyschs and a crossbow, but I spent most of my time using my Anzaii abilities.

Under our barrage of dispelling, entrapping and confusing, the remaining dragons were fragmented. With a hold on two dragons at once, I used them to pummel Zeikas who were throwing flame balls in our general direction. Not a single Tanzan died in the skirmish and all but five or six Zeikas were slain. We were not loath to let the survivors go; if they made it back to their commanders and reported only the numbers they had seen, the main army would come.

Ciera and I flew a lap around the valley, roaring our triumph. Aunt Jaalta was seated on the battle-seat behind me. This battle was very difficult for her, being one of the first since Reen was killed. Despite that, she and I had been at the forefront of the skirmish. I was wearing the Jarian belt and Jaalta was holding the Centan shield. We used our combined might on the waves to easily overpower the Zeikas’ conjurations. A dozen guardian spear-skyearls trailed us, each equipped with the finest Condiite skyearl-armour.

From so high up, I could clearly see how Tyba’s battle-plans would come into effect. Nearly half of the army was hidden in the pocket of woodland at the foot of the enormous karst tower. In front of them were at least twenty smaller groups of only a few hundred warriors. These were scattered over the top of the valley. Thousands more were positioned at the top of each of the three valleys in the area. Each line of defenders could reach beyond the next to strike at oncoming Zeikas with arrow and ballista fire if necessary.

Tyba and Amadeus waited on a pile of rocks between the two northern-most valleys, scanning the terrain intently. The prince gestured to the south west. Jaalta, Tiaro and I perceived that scouts had sighted the main Zeika army, and soon Ciera and I could see a dust cloud. As expected, the Zeikas were taking the opportunity to wipe out our enticingly smaller force.

The first Zeikas to arrive were mounted on dragons. They didn’t even bother to wait for the rest of the army, flying straight into the northern valley. About a thousand defender warriors engaged them there in a sky-battle that left me speechless.

Against the backdrop of green grass and granite boulders, the black and fiery dragons swarmed. Met by furred skyearls of every colour, shape and size, there was a tremendous uproar across the normally tranquil area. The skyearls grappled with the tyraks, snarling and using teeth and claws to get at the thick black hides. The human riders concentrated on each other—Tanzans had to duck incoming blasts of fire and counterattack with arrows. Sometimes a Tanzan would get close enough to slice a Zeika with their sword, but those with projectile weapons were better equipped to reach their enemies.

Ciera was standing on a shroud high above the battle with Jaalta and I on his back. The rest of the strike force waited behind us, the skyearls resting on the shroud, but ready to fly in an instant. Every now and then a few of us swooped down so that we could get close to a conjuration and dispel it. We watched as waves of archery skyearls looped the valley, raining arrows upon the Zeikas.

There were groups of dragons and Zeikas whose specialty seemed to be anti-archery. They carried red-painted, beaten-metal shields and long curved machetes. Numbering in the hundreds, these groups would fly directly at an archery squadron and, if it managed to catch them, fight at close range. Bodies began to pile up around the valley. Sometimes the slain fell on hapless victims below. Footsoldiers and Rada-kin fought bravely against Zeika ground troops, but most were unable to stand against the flames of the enemy.

I itched to fly down there and help them, but it was important to hold the strike force back for the main Zeika army.

‘We must wait,’ I said, trying to justify to myself why we couldn’t help the Tanzans on the ground.

As more of the Zeika army arrived, their ground troops slowly advanced up the northern valley. Even though our warriors put down wave after wave with their spears and arrows, more poured in from the west.

From the safety of his vantage point, Tyba gave the signal for those at the northern valley to fall back towards the woodland. It was there that the main part of our army could offer some cover fire. It was too soon, yet, to bring them out of hiding. We did not want this Zeika army to flee and rejoin more of their comrades later in an overwhelming force. Our strategy was to use their arrogance and quest for glory to destroy them.

Behind us, more Zeika forces were sweeping into the other two valleys. Met by our waiting forces of some 1,500 each, the enemy was kept busy on all fronts. I saw Zeikas burning Tanzans where they stood, sending their conjured monsters at others, and some clashing weapons with Tolites. I saw one Zeika stripping an injured Tanzan naked.

‘We must help that woman,’ I said to Ciera and Tiaro, pointing.

‘Send Jett,’ Tiaro suggested. ‘You are needed here. It’s nearly time to lead the strike force into battle.’

‘You must not send anyone,’ Ciera countered sadly. ‘This is a known tactic. The Zeikas want us to fly behind their lines to help people being raped. That is why the Zeika commanders allow their troops to engage in such disgusting behaviour. Look how many enemies are in that area, and how few Tanzans. Anyone who tries to rescue that woman will be slain. We must choose the battles we can win.’

I felt sick at not being able to do anything to help the Tanzan woman. I forced my eyes away, across the field of battle, peering between all the struggling creatures in the sky to see where Tyba was standing. It was a good thing I was using the waves to communicate because my teeth were so tightly clenched I probably wouldn’t have been able to speak.

‘Now, my prince?’ I asked him.

He turned to my presence in his mind and was able to reply, ‘Yes, Taeon. You have my leave to engage the enemy, but make sure the strike force doesn’t scatter too far. Stick with the plan.’

‘Now!’ I shouted. The strike force kindred passed on my command through the waves.

My people dived off the shroud, each Anzaii and their skyearl followed closely by a cluster of guardians. Ciera delivered Jaalta and I to a large group of skyearls and dragons fighting in the skies nearby. As soon as I had the opportunity, I confused a tyrak and sent it straight for the rapist. He would die slowly. I had a glimpse of the thankful woman’s face before turning the tyrak away to crash into another group of Zeikas, teeth snapping.

‘Our thanks, Specialist,’ said the woman’s Rada-kin as she freed it from a spiked net.

I could not spare the time to gain their names. Jaalta and I were surrounded by combat. We stretched out our hands and minds to dispel and confuse conjuration after conjuration. Jaalta managed to entrap a Zeika conjurer who was riding his tyrak. After the demons keeping him alive were banished, he shrivelled up.

The tyrak and the conjurer’s corpse smashed into a group of other Zeikas, taking out three more.

‘You’ve got it!’ I celebrated.

Our guardians fought to keep masses of dragons at bay. Amril and Jett flew behind Ciera on their Sleffion-kin, fighting back whenever a Zeika strayed close enough to become a threat to Jaalta and me.

I was forced to dispel dragons several times to prevent them from overwhelming our protectors. The tyraks shrieked angrily as I ripped them from the world—any Zeikas on their backs fell screaming to their deaths.

To the south west, crowds of Zeikas were setting up a camp, complete with a mess hall and healer tents, obviously expecting to be here a while. Our own rest area was hidden in the foothills of the naturally-formed karst tower, with some respite tents even up on the cliff-face.

‘Taeon, look to the west,’ Jaalta said.

In the direction she pointed was a line of Zeikas on gold litters borne by dozens of slaves. Each of the Zeikas was dressed in gold and green battle raiment and wore an elaborate head-piece extending up from the back to a hand-span above the head. Symbols were etched into the gold plating.

‘Summoners!’ Jaalta cried out through the waves.

Both Tyba and Amadeus received her mental cry. With the Centan shield in her possession, Jaalta’s voice on the waves was amplified so much that anyone in the valley who was listening could have heard her. Images flashed through Jaalta’s mind and she shared them openly with me. Monsters of great variation appeared before my mind’s eye.

Jaalta had seen her fair share of summoned creatures. Different to conjurations, these were demons brought into our world temporarily as behemoths. All were gigantic with outsized horns, fangs and claws. Some had more limbs than seemed necessary, others had more than one head. The largest and most dangerous of them could be summoned only by a group of summoners.

‘The likes of which I have never defeated…’ she said, referring to this last kind. The crushing of her throat came unbidden to her mind. It was only thanks to her Sleffion-kin, Reen, that she had survived at all. And now he was dead.

I winced at her terrible pain. She squeezed me from behind. Realising our concentration had lapsed, Jaalta made an effort to hold in her grief. I refocused on the line of Zeikas.

On the rocks before them was a towering black being with a man-like torso, bear-like head with long pointed red horns, a lupine tail, grasping black claws and hoofed feet. A mane of liquid black fell in a straight line down the back of its neck, travelling all the way to the tip of its tail.

Other Zeikas nearby bent prostrate before the behemoth, worshipping it. The summoners, however, remained seated on their litters, idly playing with fireballs on their fingertips. They seemed to be watching the summoned creature as a strict parent might watch a child, just waiting for it to do something wrong.

The behemoth’s breathing was audible even from this distance. It nearly matched Ciera in height, and enormous bulbous muscles were visible along its chest, arms and legs.

‘Gather the Anzaii together,’ Amadeus instructed me.

I contacted them one by one to let them know we needed to regroup. It seemed to take an eternity to free them all up from the battles they were engaged in, even though it was only about fifteen minutes. Of the eleven Anzaii I had set out with, nine remained alive. The guardians had suffered far heavier losses, but in total I counted about forty in the strike force.

The behemoth advanced on the field of battle looking left and right and snorting its tiny, flat nostrils. Because of its uniform black colour, it was difficult to discern exactly what it was doing from a distance.

The Tanzan ground troops fled, looking to us for support. This was what the strike force had been held back from battle for. Only we could stand against such a creature.

The behemoth chased the ground troops, snatching-up people and skyearls with ease and breaking them over its knees. Bodies were spread in its wake. None moved again.

‘Anzaii to us!’ Jaalta called through the waves. In one deafening wave-shout she was able to reach them all. Amazing! I revelled.

All of the skyearls bearing Anzaii formed up beside us. Some of them hadn’t been part of the strike force, but were joining us now.

‘We hold two Anzaii artefacts,’ Jaalta declared to them all. ‘As with the Ancient Sapphire Tree in the Dome of Gathering, we can use them to augment our effects on the waves.’

‘For the win!’ Ciera roared.

His arm was hurting badly, but he was confident nonetheless.

As we started to descend on the creature, hundreds of dragons swarmed upon us. Ciera narrowly avoided the behemoth’s sweeping claws, spiralling down past it and snapping at one leg. His teeth barely grazed the colossal behemoth’s flesh before we were lurching wildly upwards, the ground just a few paces away. I shot a Zeika on the back of his dragon with the crossbow. Three more filled his space, striking at Jaalta and I with spears and firing poisoned arrows.

Just when it seemed the strike force would be overwhelmed, four squadrons of spear-skyearls converged on our position. Winged bodies smashed together overhead and beneath us.

The sounds and smells of violence and death overwhelmed me, both in the waves and in the natural world. The behemoth rampaged below us, slaying all within its reach easily. Whenever I tried to focus on it, even using the Jarian belt, it slid away through the waves like oil.

Tyba and Amadeus would be dismayed by the destruction the black behemoth was visiting upon their ground troops. I have to stop it.

‘Get them out of there,’ Amadeus relayed to the squadron leader on the ground.

‘What can we do to it in the waves?’ I struggled to ask Tiaro and Jaalta.

‘It should be much the same as dealing with a conjuration,’ Tiaro said, ‘except this creature will be more powerful in the waves.’

I cringed; dispelling or taking control of conjurations was difficult enough. Now we would have a fully summoned behemoth fighting against us in the real world and in the waves.

‘We must prevail,’ Jaalta rallied me, touching Galtoro, her own Anzaii-kin. The Centan shield was fastened to her chest to offer extra protection and so it couldn’t be dropped.

‘Ciera,’ I called through the waves, ‘fly us closer to the behemoth so we can dispel it.’

He tried, but every time we got close, more dragons would drive us back. The behemoth itself ignored us. It seemed intent on killing as many ordinary warriors and skyearls as it could. Like me, the rest of the skyearl-mounted Anzaii could not get close to it. After dozens of unsuccessful passes, I lead the strike force north east away from the battle. Feelings of shock and abandonment rose off the Tanzans who were fleeing below us.

‘We will come back,’ Jaalta reassured them collectively. ‘But we can’t get close enough to the behemoth while on the backs of our skyearls. The dragons are all over us. We will have to approach it on foot and hope the Zeikas do not recognise us.’

It wasn’t possible for the humans to reply to Jaalta’s broadwave, but with so many kin about we soon got impressions of how the defender warriors were feeling. They were afraid, but steadfast. Most of them showed overwhelming support towards Jaalta—for the first time in most of their lives, an Anzaii could communicate with them en masse.

It brought a sudden leap forward in the way the army was run and I knew that Jaalta must be protected at all costs. Tyba clearly thought so too, for he had personally instructed our guardians not to stray from us.

I connected with the squadron leader coordinating the retreat, a Sleffion, Tolite woman named Avinel. She demanded, ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Specialist? Approach it on foot?’

‘We have to try,’ I responded.

‘Don’t get yourselves killed,’ Avinel responded. ‘We need you.’

I broke contact with her, wondering if Ciera and I should deposit Jaalta out of harm’s way before attempting to fight the behemoth.

‘We need her,’ Tiaro said.

‘But Tyba needs her more,’ I argued. ‘To coordinate this battle. Look at all the guards he’s sent with us—’

‘It is your life that Tyba guards so carefully as well.’

‘I cannot wave-speak other humans en masse,’ I replied, including Jaalta in my waves, ‘even with the help of the artefacts. I don’t know how Jaalta is doing it.’

‘I have read about broadwaving in scrolls by the Anzaii of old,’ my aunt told me, ‘but it wasn’t till Em gave me the Centan artefact that I could actually do it. It requires you to turn everything you’ve ever learned about the waves on its head. Instead of targeting one or a few of your trusted kin, you send it out like a ripple in a pond for anyone listening to hear.’

I shook my head when I was still not able to do it.

‘There is time to learn,’ Jaalta said. ‘I will lend you my scrolls.’

I made no reply. Reading was just about the last thing I could imagine myself doing any time soon.

Above are chapters 16-24

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About the author: About the author: Alikai Bronach is a fantasy novelist and seasoned wordsmith who ran a self‑publishing business for more than a decade. Now working in marketing communications, she spends her days shaping stories through both words and visuals, with a touch of AI to help now and then. 

In her forties, Alikai is a single mother, a devoted pet parent, and an occasional gamer. Though not a scientist or historian, her love of learning fuels the worldbuilding in her fantasy series, The Psion Saga. Her aim is escapism and entertainment, crafting epic fantasy books that are both vivid and action‑driven.

AI disclosure: While I did not use any AI tools to write my books, I have used it occasionally to check on spelling and punctuation or for research. Some of my graphic design work has AI elements in it.

Disclaimer: This article reflects my personal views and interpretations. While I strive for accuracy, any errors or omissions are my own. Graphic design is performed by me.