02 Strike of the Skyearls - chapters 25 to end

 

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

Chapters 25-end (Buy book or go back to chapters 1-4)

Chapter Twenty-five—A mental battle

Ciera led the strike force straight back to the base of one of the karst towers. He circled down and landed on a naturally-formed ledge that was ringed with windswept bushes and red flowers. It took a few minutes for all the humans and their kin to be deposited near the respite tent. Several of us were treated for minor injuries. Jaalta’s wounds, from her time in the Zeika encampment, were carefully inspected and rewrapped. A skin of water was thrust into my hand and I drained it.

I looked around, hoping to see a friendly face nearby, but everyone was preoccupied. I wished, again, that Sarlice, Rekala and Kestric were by my side, not only for their support and company, but just so I knew they were well. I could spare no strength to spy them out on the waves just now. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that the current battle at Everstain would be Lantaid’s last.

Taking a moment to look for Tyba’s presence in the waves, I found him fighting hand-to-hand with two Zeikas. A group of tyraks must have landed on the shelf halfway up the karst tower where he and his lieutenants were coordinating the battle. He duel-wielded two shortswords, darting and ducking so quickly that the image in my mind blurred. He wasn’t a Tolite, but had been trained from a young age.

A conjured death hawk sailed towards him, fangs bared. Trees, no! I stretched out my hand, sending my thoughts like a bolt in the direction of the monster. The Jarian belt gave me a boost—shooting my awareness into the creature like a spear.

Tyba finished off the two Zeikas and saluted at the air, not knowing which Anzaii had saved him.

‘It was me,’ I told him. ‘Sire, I presume you heard that the strike force will run down through the woods and approach the behemoth on foot?’

‘Yes,’ Tyba replied, ‘but it is good to tell me directly just in case.’

He was breathing hard and a cut down the left side of his back drenched him in acid rain.

‘Your position has been compromised there,’ I observed. ‘You won’t be able to coordinate the battle if you are injured or worse.’

Tyba only grumbled in reply, knowing I was right. If the prince was badly hurt during the battle, his lieutenants would continue in his stead, but none of us wanted that to happen. For the sake of our prince, who was competent and well-loved, and because it would be a devastating blow to morale.

Because I was still connected to his mind, I sensed Tyba master his desire to fight his enemies in person. It wasn’t out of malice that he thirsted for combat, but out of a deep sense of loyalty for his people. How could he send others into such danger if he wasn’t prepared to face the enemy himself?

‘I understand how you feel,’ I said. ‘But you are far more valuable to all of us if you are able to coordinate the defenders from a safe location.’

‘Much like you having to hide up in the clouds dispelling,’ he commented. ‘I know, Taeon. You don’t have to counsel me about the big picture of a war. I’ve grown up with strategy and battle. Defence is in my blood. Now get out of my thoughts so I can choose a new vantage point.’

The Anzaii strike force gathered around me near the respite tent. Red flowers nodded in the breeze behind them, adding to the feeling of urgency. It was time to face the behemoth.

‘Let’s go,’ Jaalta said. ‘You will have to be the voice for both of us. Without the Sleffion-kin with us, we should communicate aloud.’

‘But you can wave-speak to other people,’ I replied.

‘It is still difficult to target large groups. I can target a few individuals at once or I can send a broadwave—to everybody. But I cannot send targeted waves to the entire strike force without disturbing all others within the vicinity of the broadwave. I don’t want to cause that kind of distraction unless it is very important.’

I nodded. ‘I think I understand.’

I took five deep breaths, squashed the panic that was welling inside me, and shouted, ‘Strike force, listen up! We will walk to the battlefront. A line of guardians, then the Anzaii followed by another line of guardians. Form up as soon as we reach the woods on the ground.’

It felt strange to be giving orders, but a surge of calm filled me as the strike force came to attention. It was no time for misguided heroics. Hundreds of thousands of people were depending on us. Three of the Anzaii—Rialb, Quetanav and Aerilaya—stood close, eyes fixed on me. I was humbled by the way Colonel Aerilaya was willing to follow my orders. Not long ago she had outranked me.

Aunt Jaalta went first, leading me down the steep trail of the karst tower. We pushed past the dry, scrubby bushes clinging to the edge of the cliff and stepped down over rocks and roots. The Anzaii armour I was wearing felt heavy, but was keeping me warm on the bracing autumn day.

As we came onto more level ground, we had to make our way between the silvery trees. Many more shrubs dotted the forest before the woodland.

Once inside the woodland, I gave the signal to spread out and form into the three lines I had specified. Aunt Jaalta and I stepped out in front of the first line with Amril and Jett by our sides. Jett gave me a salute when I looked his way. I smiled. My heart was pumping. I tried to tell myself it was only performance-anxiety. This was, after all, my first command.

We moved forward through the forest, becoming interweaved with the three or four thousand defender warriors who were still concealed there. Jaalta used the waves to communicate with Tyba and the captains and corporals in our area, one by one. The field in front of the woods could barely be seen through the trees, but I knew there were hundreds of small groups of defenders out there, fighting valiantly. Since Tyba’s signal to fall back, they had made it nearly all the way back to the trees.

‘Tyba has ordered the main force to advance,’ Jaalta informed me.

As one, the rest of the army marched forward. Archers began firing as soon as they had a clear view of the field. The many thousands of Zeikas who were spread out at the top of the northern valley paused only for a moment. Their commanders appeared to be giving them orders to engage us. The first lines of the woodland squadrons ran forward. Within seconds, there was death and mayhem all around us.

I held my fist straight up in the air, holding the strike force back. There were still many lines of defenders to come out of the woods. If we moved too soon, we’d never even make it to the behemoth. Instead we’d be caught up in the ground assault with the infantry.

‘Focus,’ Jaalta counselled me.

‘Focus,’ I repeated.

A booming sound came from the direction of the valley and a thundering screech pierced the air. Over the lip of the valley came dozens of Tanzan warriors, tripping, falling, scrambling up and running again. The behemoth burst into view behind them, snatching up the stragglers and throwing them against rocks or pitching them over its shoulder. Occasionally it would bend to snap a Rada-kin in its jaws. The cacophony on the waves was incredible. It took most of my concentration to shield myself from it.

Tiaro hummed Halduronlei. I could sense Ciera and the strike force flying over the southern valley, carrying other humans instead of each skyearl’s Anzaii, as a decoy. The vast majority of dragons were now heading for that area, trying to take down what they thought was the Anzaii strike force. The ruse would not last long. Jaalta, who was connected with my thoughts, concurred.

‘Now!’ I shouted, throwing my arm down.

The strike force ran forward with the next wave of the army. Swords and spears lashed out in front of me. Arrows came from nowhere, landing everywhere. Within moments, dozens of people around me had been killed. Each death was like a punch in my gut; their lights were cruelly snuffed out on the waves.

‘Focus!’ Jaalta cried.

She was having as difficult a time with the battle as I was, but experience gave her the edge she needed. I blinked and rubbed my forehead, which was starting to ache.

The behemoth loomed before us, shaking the ground with every step. The line of guardians behind us fired upon the behemoth with cross-bow bolts, arrows and spears. Hardly any pierced the mottled black skin of the gigantic beast. Skyearls also attacked it, but most were thrown back. Some of the larger ones managed to loop a great rope around the behemoth’s left arm. It had no neck, or else they would have aimed for that. Instead, its back arched over and the bear-wolf head dipped low in front of it, red eyes glaring out of the dark visage.

It turned to shriek at the skyearls, crouched low and yanked on the rope. The skyearls flapped backwards, hauling with all their combined strength. It was not enough to pull the behemoth over, but it did slow it down. If they could get another rope around the right arm… Snap! The behemoth’s sharp yellow teeth snipped the rope with ease. Brushing aside any skyearls that came too close, it advanced on the ground troops.

The first line of the strike force gathered in front of it. Instead of turning and running, the guardians formed up more tightly in a sort of semi-circle. Holding shields, swords or pikes up in front of them, they bravely made their stand. A feeling of tremendous gratitude and sadness welled up in me. They willingly give their lives.

A woman’s eyes met mine, her nod urged me on, and the behemoth’s clawed foot crashed down, killing her.

‘Now is the time to dispel,’ I found myself shouting. ‘Now!’

I sheathed Fyschs and offered one of my hands to my aunt. Jaalta gripped my hand and reached the other to Aerilaya, who was connected to Rialb, then Quetanav, then all the others. Linked by physical touch, and with the collective support of the Anzaii-kin and the two Ancient Sapphire Tree artefacts, we swam through the waves.

A sort of bubble of awareness opened up around us. Jaalta and I could see and hear each other, and the other Anzaii, through the waves. Tiaro and the other Anzaii-kin merged into a fountain of psionic energy.

Jaalta, who had a fine voice in the waves, declared, ‘We will not stand for it. We will not allow it. Banish it!’

I was vaguely aware of my real body bellowing from the strain. Sioned and Nirixa, beside me, also shouted from the effort of our combined wave-questing. Like before, the behemoth’s presence in the waves was elusive. It toyed with us in the waves, all the while crushing more of our guardians in the natural world.

‘Closer,’ I encouraged the group. ‘We need to make contact.’

Now that we were all touching and linked by the Ancient Sapphire Tree artefacts, it was easy to target all of them inside the wave bubble we had created.

‘More ropes,’ Quetanav said.

The command was passed along through the waves to the quartermaster who controlled the supplies for the battle. Commander Varal was out there somewhere, trying his hardest to come to our aid.

More of our guardians fell before the behemoth’s onslaught. It ripped through them, using its own weight to stand on people and animals alike. A cavalry squadron galloped out of the woods, pointing makeshift-extended javelins at the behemoth. Because the soft parts of its body were so high off the ground, though, all they could do was target its shins and calf muscles.

Deafening moans and the smell of blood pounded my senses. I closed my eyes against the sight of a horse and rider being kicked into the air by the behemoth’s great hooves. It’s groping hands and five clawed digits were big enough to pick up an entire horse each. Each hand squeezed and dropped the mangled remains. The remaining frontline guardians and cavalry kept the behemoth busy until more help arrived.

Eight skyearls, carrying spools of rope, dived from high in the sky. They moved swiftly to enmesh the behemoth in a tangle of ropes and chains. It twisted and snapped with teeth and claws, fighting to remain free. While it was distracted, a group of skyearls with large jaws landed behind it and began gnawing at the backs of its feet. Black blood oozed down over the shiny hooves. It kicked savagely and stood on one of its attackers.

More flew in to continue the job. The ropes around the behemoth’s body became so tangled around its horns, arms and torso that it couldn’t reach them with its teeth.

The rope-skyearls pulled hard in one direction. The skyearls at its feet bit and scratched with more vehemence than before. The behemoth lashed out wildly with its one free arm, then stumbled and finally fell. I moved forward with the Anzaii still attached to each other in a huddle. There was one foot being held in place by the gnawing skyearls. Uncertain what would happen, I lunged for it.

As soon as I touched it, the waves became our primary focus. The behemoth could no longer slip away from us. It looked the same in the waves except it was now on its feet. In the waves the other Anzaii were no longer touching me, but I could see them standing around with varying degrees of horror and defiance etched into their faces.

‘Back!’ I shouted to the behemoth.

It drew itself up to its full height and bellowed. The sound reverberated across the dusty grey plains. A silt storm was visible in the distance. Beside me, Jaalta gestured for the Anzaii to get hold of their weapons or Tolite-kin, if they had one. I drew Fyschs, admiring the way the leafshards in the blade glimmered in the light of the two moons above us. Was it always night time in this part of the waves? Wind ruffled the hair under my helmet and my cloak whipped behind me.

‘Fools!’ the behemoth spat. ‘My Lord Zeidarb controls this world. He is the master of death. None can stand before him.’

He made a sweeping gesture with his arm and nearly half of the Anzaii fell down, lifeless. Their names flashed to the forefront of my mind—Sioned, Tarindi, Kass. The rest of us moved into a tight ball, standing with weapons at the ready. The behemoth was angered by our obstinacy. I latched onto the recognition of its emotions. They were alien to me and powerful, yet somehow familiar. Using the connection I had forged, I probed further into the behemoth’s make-up. A name came to me…

‘Boiva,’ I said. ‘Demon of the waves, you are not welcome here!’

Tiaro and the other Anzaii-kin rushed the behemoth. Jaalta’s pendant, Galtoro, seemed more like a charging bull in the waves. The wind whipped around us, casting silt and rocks against our faces and armour. I shielded my eyes with my hand. Jaalta stepped forward heedless. Flecks of blood appeared on her cheeks and mouth. Her arm remained outstretched.

‘Get back!’ she bellowed through the waves. ‘You are banished, Boiva!’

The behemoth looked right and left, puffing with exertion. When nothing happened, it snarled and launched forward at the approaching Anzaii. We channelled our energy together, palms raised. A whirlwind whipped across the plains and lifted the behemoth off its feet. The monster writhed and shrieked as if pummelled by many fists. It was thrown against the ground several times before finally being torn apart by the shredding power of the silt storm.

The winds slowly died down, leaving behind only dust. Quetanav and Rialb looked at me and Jaalta in awe. One by one, we transferred our focus back to the natural world and let go of each other.

It took the rest of that day and night for the defenders to overcome the Zeikas. By the time they realised they were defeated, it was too late for many of them to get away. The strike force reunited with their Sleffion-kin and flew after the fleeing summoners. Their dragons were harder to dispel than most, but it was only a matter of time before each enemy had fallen or been captured.

Tyba and I had lost thousands of defenders in the battle, but it had saved the refugees outside the city and bought us valuable time. The victory gave all of Tanza hope that perhaps Condii could be our last stand against the Zeika onslaught.

As 180 Minerday dawned we received word that the battle at the Hills of Everstain was also over. Though the Zeikas had taken Lantaid, 60,000 civilians had made it to the chasm along with 1200 defender warriors. I mourned the loss of so many lives, but my hopes flared at the thought that Sarlice and the Rada-kin may have joined the refugees.

Although I was tired enough to be at risk of falling off Ciera’s back, I made the effort to reach out to Sarlice. My mind quested west of Lantaid, finding my Rada-kin and Kestric among the large group of Tanzan evacuees, but no sign of Sarlice. I had located her before, why not now? She could be dead… I shied away from that thought.

‘Rekala,’ I called. Because we were bonded, it was very easy to find Rekala’s presence. Even from this distance, instead of only being vaguely aware of Rekala’s surroundings, the belt enabled me to see into her mind and see everything that she saw. Normally I would only have been able to do that if we were within a few leagues of each other. I had been carrying the belt ever since I left Jaria, but not known how to use it.

The river stretched away ahead and to the right of her. Kestric was to her left among a disorganised line of people, skyearls and animals who’d trekked through the eastern end of the chasm. The historian, Benzar and the first Tanzan I had met, Tivac, were at the end of the line preparing to seal the barrier once everyone had made it into the chasm. Duke Alger led the procession and I was pleased to see Glane, unharmed. He was carrying a large knapsack and a child, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Everybody around looked exhausted from the evacuation.

‘My Taeon, my Talon!’ Rekala called—reminding me of our early days together when she had been less in control of her animal instincts. Her reaction told me much about her distress. The recent battle and evacuation must have been hard—thankfully Rekala wasn’t injured. Nor was Kestric, but I still couldn’t detect any sign of Sarlice.

‘Hello, dear one. I’m so glad to see you are hale, but what has happened to Sarlice?’ I extended the wave conversation to include Kestric. The firetiger made a throaty tiger yowl. A hot shard of fear went racing through me.

‘She was snatched during the battle,’ he replied. ‘Five Zeikas mounted on tyraks came for her. They were very purposeful when they flew off with her.’

Kestric’s sense of yearning reached me. He wished there was some way he could run after Sarlice but, without the ability to fly, he had been forced to wait behind as Thita went after her. Duke Alger had asked all the kinless Rada-kin, including Kestric and Rekala to help ensure the safety of the survivors from Lantaid. No matter how much they begged, Alger had refused to send more skyearls after Sarlice saying it was simply too dangerous and they needed to concentrate on evacuating now.

‘I will go to her,’ I said. ‘It is because of me that she has been snatched. Because of me and because of the traitor, Corypha.’

‘If Sarlice hadn’t been captured, she would probably have been slain at the Hills of Everstain,’ Rekala said.

‘You survived,’ I pointed out.

‘We were separated from the fight when Sarlice was taken,’ she said. ‘By the time we got back it was clear that Lantaid had been beaten, so we slunk away through the forest.’

Kestric paced and yowled. ‘If you truly believe you have a chance of rescuing her, we will return and go with you.’

‘No,’ I replied firmly. ‘I will have to travel by air and neither
of you have learned bird form yet. I want both of you to stay with the survivors. They need all the help they can get.’

Rekala gave the wave-equivalent of a wounded sniff.

‘Tiaro and Ciera will aid me,’ I added. ‘Thita is following her, you said?’

‘Aye, the little skyearl is tailing them,’ Kestric affirmed.

‘Be well, dear ones. Stay with the people and help them on our behalf. You are still representing Jaria and Lyth, remember.’

I used Kestric’s link to Thita to find him quickly.

‘Thita, are you hale?’ I queried.

The tiny orange skyearl was flying above the clouds, keeping out of sight of the party of Zeikas who had Sarlice. They, too, were in flight, somewhere over south east Tanza.

‘I am tired, Master Psion,’ Thita replied. ‘Sarlice is unconscious, but still alive.’

Helpless to do anything, but follow, for now, Thita’s waves emanated both desperation and hopelessness. His breathing was laboured and he had no moisture left for shrouding.

‘I will come after you as soon as I am allowed to, Thita,’ I said.

‘You are needed there,’ Thita responded. Tiaro, who was always with me during wave conversations, agreed. ‘Besides, I don’t see how you could catch us. They appear to be making straight for Reltland.’

‘Then Reltland is where we’ll go,’ I said.

‘But not today,’ Thita said. ‘You’re in dire need of some rest, Taeon. Look after yourself and do what needs to be done for Tanza. Don’t let the Zeikas draw you away from your responsibilities. I can’t reach Sarlice’s mind, but I know she wouldn’t want you to throw away your duty. And she wouldn’t want you to fall into a trap.’

‘We’ll think of something,’ I assured him.

Dread filled me—not only did I want to get to my Rada-kin, but also to go after Sarlice. In opposite directions. No matter how much I thought about it, a solution evaded me.

A flurry of voices on the waves close to me brought my focus back to my immediate surroundings. Ciera had landed on the platform at the back of Condii Fortress and was waiting patiently for my conversation to end. Other Sleffion-kin pairs were waiting for their turn to land in the now-reduced space.

‘Sorry,’ I murmured to Ciera.

‘It’s no matter,’ he replied. ‘The others can wait. I am sorry about Sarlice.’

‘Sometimes I wish we could just fly away—Sarlice and her kin, me and mine—and just go far away from the Zeikas, hide out and live our lives in peace.’

He made no reply to this expression of emotion, but sent me the equivalent of a mental hug. He waited until I had unstrapped myself before sitting up on his haunches and reaching around with his good arm to pick me up. He held me up in front of his face, peering at me closely.

‘What is it?’ I queried.

‘I just wanted to look upon you,’ he replied. ‘So much has happened recently. We have been very preoccupied, you and I. I just wanted to look upon the human who has changed me so.’

‘For the better, I hope,’ I replied hesitantly.

He dipped his head. ‘We were victorious, weren’t we?’

I relaxed back into the palm of his hand, my helmet tapping against his enormous claws. My concentration was starting to wane, exhaustion taking its toll.

‘A warm bath and private chambers await you,’ Ciera said out loud.

‘Yes, about that—’ I began, but Ciera cut me off.

‘There’s not much I can do to show my appreciation to you, Taeon. I know everything you have done for Tanza even if nobody else does. Consider this my gift to you.’

He lowered me slowly. I gave his neck a scratch on my way to the ground. Feeling the sensation through his body on the waves, I realised it was little more than a light tickle.

‘One day I’ll have to get you a rake,’ he jested.

I smiled weakly. ‘One day… when this is all over.’

I walked inside, dragging my feet. Jett ran to meet me and put his arm under my opposite shoulder.

‘Why is it that you always have more energy than me?’ I asked.

‘Because I save some of my strength,’ Jett said. ‘Whereas you hold nothing back.’

Chapter Twenty-six—Survival tactics

Against my wishes, I slept for fourteen hours. The peace and warmth in my suite held me in a tight embrace.

When I became awake enough to remember all that had happened, it took still more time to convince my body to start working again. Muscles ached in every limb and my back and neck throbbed with pain. A headache held me in its grip, preventing me from getting a clear sense of the waves. Conversations burbled around me, but I had not the strength to discriminate one from another. Trickles of information still reached me.

Kovain had been taken yesterday afternoon. As many as 13,000 Zeikas had arrived there only to find it shrouded and abandoned. Tanzan spies had intercepted plans from a messenger dragon to the legion at Kovain. They had been ordered to hold their ground, recover and prepare for the ‘final phase’. The hunter skyearls and spies in the area worked tirelessly, day and night, to prevent the enemy from realising Centan, too, was now abandoned.

Jett confirmed the information as he helped me dress in my battle armour. Afterwards I stuck my head out of the door to my suite. Cots and tables lined the hallway, with scores of defender warriors sleeping on my very doorstep. I felt ashamed to have a room just for myself and Aunt Jaalta, but I didn’t want to gainsay Ciera’s gift. With a nod of thanks to Jett I crept past the sleeping bodies and made my way down to the vista.

‘Master Psion Taeon,’ King Crystom greeted me. ‘Congratulations on your victory.’

‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ I said. A vision of Sarlice slung across the back of a tyrak assaulted me, but now was not the time to blurt out my concerns.

Most of the strategists were looking at me with newfound respect. Despite what Saned had said last time we’d been here, he greeted me formally with one arm across his chest and offered his praise.

‘Many of our warriors and civilians are gathering loot from the Zeika supply carts still,’ the king said. ‘They came poorly equipped for such a large force, but it will bolster our provisions for a few days.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ I said. ‘How is Prince Tyba?’

‘He is resting,’ Crystom replied. ‘He continued to chase down stragglers and coordinate the army throughout the day.’

I looked out the windows at the colour of the sky. We were deep into the night, possibly even past midnight judging by the faint glow on the horizon. My strange sleeping patterns of late were throwing my sense of time out.

How long had Sarlice been a prisoner? Would they do to her what I’d seen them do to other prisoners in the Zeika encampment—what her uncle had done to her when she was a child? Would they bleed her and use her blood to bring more soldiers into Tanza? My stomach simmered with hate.

‘He is a dedicated leader,’ I affirmed, fighting to put aside the agony of my thoughts.

‘Yes,’ Crystom replied, ‘Colonel Aerilaya told me how you and Jaalta held them together when you faced a summoned behemoth.’

I licked my lips. ‘Yes, sire, but it was Jaalta more than me.’

Jaalta stirred at the end of the table. I had not noticed her there before. She was dressed in ornate cream and bronze robes, and a thick blue-grey pelt adorned her shoulders.

‘We have heard about your friend, Sarlice,’ Jaalta broadwaved, sparing me the need to bring it up.

Everybody in the room turned to stare, even people who were not already participating in the conversation.

‘Will you allow me to mount a rescue?’ I asked.

I nodded my thanks to Jaalta. When I reached out to her in the waves, she held her mind tightly closed. I cocked my head at her with a frown. She looked to Crystom.

‘You know we cannot,’ he said simply.

My fists curled into tight balls. ‘Then I shall go alone.’

‘No, you shall not,’ Crystom said firmly. ‘You are an officer in this army and you are needed here.’

My heart thundered. They would stop me from going? Ciera entered the room from the oversized hallway, walking awkwardly on all fours with the splint around one of his forearms. His fur was standing up, a sign of stress.

‘The king is right,’ Ciera said. ‘Do not let your emotions cloud your judgement.’

I stood up and turned to face him. He could understand everything that was going through my mind. Because of this, I could hardly believe he would oppose me.

‘You would only be slain or captured and used as Jaalta was, with a waverade artefact.’

‘I never asked for this gift,’ I railed at him. ‘I never asked for this responsibility.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But you have it and thus far you have borne your responsibility well. Do not ruin it now.’ Ciera sent Halduronlei through the waves to me, trying to calm me and help me get my breath back. My face was hot, the panic in my chest swelling to breaking point.

There was more to this than I had first realised. There were people in the room just waiting for me to defy the king. I decided that my loyalty to Sarlice was far greater than my loyalty to the king, but that didn’t mean it was right to disobey Crystom. I respected him and I believed in what I was doing as part of Tanza. I had accepted my position in the Tanzan defender army so I needed to honour that decision, as least for now.

‘If the Zeikas truly want to use you for a waverade artefact, then they will not kill Sarlice,’ Ciera said aloud.

I sat back down and put my head in my hands, murmuring, ‘That’s partly what I’m afraid of. What will they do to her?’

Jaalta came and stood behind my chair, putting her hands on my shoulders. I sensed that she was sorry that my request had been denied, but now sought to lend me the strength to continue.

‘Have patience,’ she said.

Strategist Ervan cleared his throat. ‘Many of us have lost loved ones,’ he began. ‘Let their sacrifices not be in vain.’

I raised both hands in the air in submission.

‘We have three days before 20,000 Zeikas arrive here in Condii,’ Commander Varal declared. ‘In that time the skyearls will build a shroud fortress to house the civilians within the walls of Condii.’

Crystom gestured at Jaalta and me. ‘Bring the Anzaii artefacts here, please. We must converse with the commanders of Tanza.’

I could sense something ominous in his mind. ‘About what, Your Majesty?’ I asked.

There were some scowls around the room, but Crystom answered me calmly. ‘The evacuation of Tanza.’

For the next four days Condii was like a kicked anthill. Once Crystom had announced his decision to abandon the realm, there had been a furore on the waves. The king made the controversial declaration that the barrier shield could be used against the Zeikas.

The sheer number of people crammed into every hallway of every building and every corner of every street made it very difficult to go anywhere or do anything. Food and drink was strictly rationed. With half a million mouths to feed, and the economy decimated, the counters and other officials were pushed to the limits of their abilities. The defender soldiers who were assigned to supply duty for the civilians were some of our gruffest, meanest looking warriors.

‘It’s for the best,’ Tyba told me.

We had made our way down Inner Spiral Lane to the centre of the city. Representatives from groups of families were queued down the street into the distance, waiting to receive their rations.

At least these people have their freedom, I thought bitterly. Sarlice didn’t have that. Dread was my constant companion as I worried about Sarlice and wished I could go to her. It took every ounce of my self-control not to pester Ciera until he agreed to take me to her. The situation in Condii was desperate and I knew I was needed more than ever now.

The 20,000 Zeikas Commander Varal had predicted would arrive today had been spotted from the western towers. An army of equal size had also stationed itself just south west of Centan on the edge of the watery flats.

Shrouds had been left in the way, in addition to the thick cloaking of the waterfall city itself. The spy-hunters who had remained to protect Centan from prying eyes now came into their element. Using the vast shrouds as cover, they engaged in guerrilla warfare with the enemy.

Uncertain of the numbers they were facing, the Zeikas did not launch an all-out assault against the city. The bulk of their army waited just outside the mists, sending in parties to chase the marauding Tanzans and try to gain intelligence on Centan’s defences.

To the Zeikas, this was the most important phase of their incursion and they appeared to be prepared to wait it out. After all, Centan had no crop fields, and food supplies had to be flown in. It was only a matter of weeks before starvation would have set in.

Water, of course, would not have been a problem, but with that much mist, the population would also be susceptible to mildew, mould, rot and disease.

Back in Condii, where the population actually was, things were only slightly better. Where Tyba and I now stood, in the centre of the city, we could see and smell the refuse that was piling up. The parade ground was no longer green, having been trampled to dust long ago. Children ran past with dark snot coming from their noses, because of all the dust in the air.

The waterways in Condii had long since become muddy. Even though it was the River Jarvi that passed through the north east corner of the city, each day it seemed to take no time at all for its banks to become slick and treacherous and the water fouled.

The shrouder-skyearls continued to drink it and were busy night and day with building the new shroud fortress. They had named it Elonavé, which meant ‘spirit away’ in ancient Kaslonican. Elonavé was a multi-layered construction, built for functionality in a compact space. The higher it reached into the sky, the more skyearls were assigned to guard it. Being the most experienced shrouder alive, Ciera played an integral role in its formation.

He still grieved for Raer, but it was nothing compared to the devastating realisation that all of Tanza had been lost. Ciera’s disbelief over the evacuation of Tanza had lasted many days. Even now he flew about in a sort of trance, not quite willing to face the reasons why he was creating a new shroud building.

Elonavé was designed very differently to the sky palace. The king and queen had sat with Ciera for hours designing a multi-tiered structure that could be converted into an immensely long pathway when the time for our evacuation came. At the shrouder-skyearls’ commands, the blocks and sheets that made up Elonavé would slide out and around, forming a snaking platform that would stretch all the way to our border with Ravra.

It was believed the Zeikas would not expect this, and it would provide the people with the best chance of survival.

Other skyearls shrouded this end of the city, coating it in a bowl of cloud. From inside the bowl, Tanzans could not even see the teal sky. It meant that very few Zeikas were game enough to fly through the mists, not knowing what awaited them on the other side.

There were squadrons of skyearls both inside and outside the bowl. Even if the Zeikas did catch sight of Elonavé, and lived to tell the tale, it looked nothing like a means of escape.

While Ciera had been occupied, Tyba and I had both flown out to the battlefront on Amadeus’ back. Jaalta and Amril had been right behind us, along with Jett on Ptemais and two dozen other guardians. There were 17,000 Tanzan warriors here now and about 20,000 of the enemy, but we had the advantage of being the defenders of a great city. In addition to that, there were thousands of civilians learning to use weapons.

Architect Furlorny’s fast repairs had fortified Condii’s walls and towers to something even more formidable than they had been before. Weight and pulley contraptions had been fitted to most of the windows so that rocks and rubble from the previous destruction could be rained upon intruders. Tens of thousands of weapons had been brought across from Centan. Combined with those we had plundered from the Zeika legion we’d defeated, our offensive capabilities were greatly enhanced.

As before, Jaalta and I had spearheaded the efforts of the strike force using the Anzaii artefacts. Countless hundreds of conjurations had fallen before us. Wave after wave would attack—sometimes ten or twenty at once—and we had wiped them all out of the sky. We generally carried one artefact each, using them to augment our own abilities. When necessary, a shroud-skyearl was called in to create a platform for the strike force to gather and combine strengths.

In a war that had gone almost entirely in the Zeikas’ favour, it was liberating to finally feel in control of the battle.

At times I could almost convince myself that we would turn the tide of this war. But by all the reports from survivors in other parts of the realm, the Zeikas had total control of all the other towns. They had obliterated Tanza from the outside in. Centan and Condii were their final targets. When all their armies finally converged here, the battle for Tanza would be lost.

Small, isolated battles continued around Condii even while Tyba and I were safe inside the city centre. Crystom and the strategists made sure each of the Anzaii were given time to rest and recover from the stress of fighting. I was grateful to be with Tyba while Ciera was building Elonavé. It felt more useful than sitting inside Condii fortress discussing war tactics.

I snorted in a vain attempt to clear the dust from my nose. A scuffle broke out across the street where an elderly man was trying to get fresh straw for his livestock. The man shoved the soldier and attempted to seize what he needed, but a younger woman pulled him back.

The prince and I had come to the parade ground today to meet the people and boost morale. So far we’d been greeted mostly with resentful stares, angry questions and complaints. Our guardians had been forced to hold back the crowd. I looked forward to when the king would join us—I was struggling to maintain my composure.

No matter what any of these people were suffering, Sarlice was suffering worse. I clenched my fists and ran my fingers through my hair. My stomach grumbled, but I set aside my hunger, knowing that Sarlice was probably enduring worse.

Not all of the Tanzans in the city centre were making trouble. In fact, most people were getting on with the business of everyday living and helping each other. I observed a girl about the age of nine pass up the offer of a second piece of fruit so that a smaller child behind her could have extra.

‘Did you see that girl over there?’ Tyba asked me, pointing.

I nodded.

‘That is what we are fighting for. Kriites are more than just a race and Tanza is more than just a place. It is an ideal. We are the last hope for an increasingly hostile, self-serving world.’

I gazed at him, starting to understand what it was about Tyba that I knew would make him a great king one day. Instead of becoming disheartened by the negative people, he focused on the honourable ones.

‘If you know this, why haven’t you gone out into the world with the rest of the Kriites?’ I asked. ‘The tribes could have really benefitted from your skyearls and their shrouds and barriers.’

He blinked and looked down at the ground. ‘Have you forgotten Telby’s exile?’

‘Nay, but Jaria is accessible via Ravra and Naioteio.’

‘Do you really think Reltland would have left you in peace all these years, if we had gone to Jaria and left skyearls or built defences there?’

I had never considered the Zeikas’ treatment of Jaria to be peaceful, yet seeing their vast armies in Tanza showed me that only small raiding parties had attacked Jaria in my lifetime.

‘As for the other nations,’ Tyba continued, ‘There were many Sleffion in Watercrag, and look what happened to it. There are some Tanzans living in Ravra, Siffre and Duuryn. We trade with those nations. Like Jaria, we send delegates now and then.’ Seeing the look on my face he added, ‘Perhaps we could have done more…’

I turned my head to the sound of hooves on the road. King Crystom and his personal guard rode into the city centre. With a nod to Tanza, Crystom dismounted and spread his arms wide, welcoming his people to him. Swarms of Tanzans approached to ask questions.

‘Must we leave Condii? Can it not be defended?’ ‘What will become of Tanza?’ ‘When will Elonavé be completed?’ ‘When’ll we be receiving more wool?’ ‘We need more oil.’ ‘We need meat.’ ‘Who is going to settle disputes?’ ‘Who will go first once the shroud is finished?’ ‘When will the evacuation begin?’

‘Taeon,’ Ciera’s voice was very faint on the waves. I sensed that he had collapsed somewhere on the upper levels of Elonavé. ‘It is done.’

With that he faded into a deep sleep.

‘Soon,’ I blurted.

‘What’s that, Taeon?’ Tyba asked.

I kept my voice low so as not to be heard by others. ‘The evacuation will begin soon, won’t it? Ciera has just completed Elonavé and he has passed out.’

‘I’ll have water sent up right away. Amadeus and I will take you to check on him.’

‘My thanks,’ I replied.

Amadeus glided down to the ground, his purple and yellow wings temporarily casting a shadow over us. The prince and I climbed onto his back and strapped ourselves in to the two-person saddle. Amadeus pointed his nose straight up into the air, expelled a puff of shroud to create air movement ahead of him and launched into it. His great, feathered wings snapped open, beating a path through the air towards Elonavé.

Our guardians followed close behind. Within minutes Amadeus had scaled the immense floating castle and was landing on the roof. Only a small amount of vapour clung to the edges of the sky fort; it was primarily made up of the spongy, white material that enabled us to walk on ordinary shrouds.

A short stairwell and passage led to the level beneath. Tyba and I disembarked and walked around the stairwell to where Ciera and a number of other shroud-skyearls were resting. He lay sprawled out on the shroud. His head was outstretched, his eyes shut tight and his wings and limbs completely relaxed. He looked somewhat like a skyearl whelp that had crash-landed and was lying stunned on the ground. As I approached, a pair of skyearls appeared with waterlogged towels that they pressed to Ciera’s face and mouth. One skyearl pried open his mouth, which emitted a rancid gust of dry wind.

‘He needs food,’ one of the skyearls said.

‘I’ll harvest those banana trees for him,’ the other answered.

There was a curt nod from the first skyearl before the second took off. I marched over to Ciera, instinctively trying to see if I could reach him through the waves. As with the construction of the strike force shroud, the effort of creating this one had drained him. This time his exhaustion was even more pronounced.

‘Do not fear for him,’ Tyba told me. ‘He will be watched over by the other skyearls.’

‘Good,’ I replied, listening to the waves for a few moments. ‘The civilians are being sent here to Elonavé already.’

‘Very well,’ Tyba said. ‘I am going to fly out and oversee the shutting of the front gate. You can come with me if you want. We could do with your help if you’re feeling up to it. There are plenty of conjurers out there to be entrapped.’

‘Any behemoths?’ I asked, feeling that the effort required to face another one would just about break me.

‘Not at the moment,’ the prince replied. ‘It was rare to see that many summoners together. They are Bal Harar’s highest ranking officers. Their appearance can only mean the Bal himself is nearby.’

I pursed my lips. Sarlice had been taken and Bal Harar was here. Could the two somehow be related?

‘What is the meaning of “Bal”?’

‘It can be loosely translated as “strongest” or “most powerful”. Zeika hierarchy demands there be only one Bal at any one time, but the position can be challenged at any time. The Bal usually gains his position by murdering or maiming his competitors. Young, ambitious Zeikas get close to the top through prowess in battle and in contests of sorcery.’

I screwed up my mouth in distaste.

‘Shall we go to the gate?’ he asked.

I nodded reluctantly. Tyba and I mounted up on Amadeus again and glided down, down, down towards the front gate. We passed through the shroud bowl—on the far side the ruddy afternoon light was a dazzling contrast to my eyes.

The brilliant orange sun reached tendrils of light beneath a puffy expanse of dark brown and black clouds. The land beneath the clouds was washed with red light and patterned with deep shadows. Wind stirred the grass and trees in the distance, bringing with it a sense of change I could not quite ignore. The smell of rain was in the air.

Amadeus passed by the gatehouse where thousands of Centanians were lined up waiting to get inside Condii. He descended slowly towards one of the outermost towers where we could see both the gates and the battle that was raging just a few stadions away, at the bottom of the hill. This new Zeika legion was not yet in range of the newly equipped and fortified towers. Our warriors faced them still, determined to hold them back for as long as possible while the civilians made it to Elonavé.

Amadeus stretched out his claws to grip the wooden rails that were built into the top of the tower. He landed easily on one of the thicker rails and settled his wings.

Tyba and I climbed down just as the rest of our group was arriving, Jaalta and Jett among them. They spoke not a word as we spread out among the spear-skyearls who were already on the tower. A few of the spear-skyearls spared a polite nod for the prince and his Sleffion-kin before returning their stern gazes back to the battle.

I sensed a coiled strength in most of them. They fought within themselves to stay put. Every instinct in their bodies clamoured at them to fight and defend the humans. As we watched, the battle crawled closer. The Tanzan army fell back every so often, finding new boulders and crevices to use as cover. Skyearls, dragons and death hawks slashed the sky.

After a while my eyes started to see strange criss-crossing patterns. The blood and screaming was barely detectable from this distance but I knew that it was there. It was an effort to rein my thoughts away from the option to investigate what was going on with the waves. It would only reveal more pain and distress than I could cope with.

As night fell, the gates of Condii were finally closed. The battle raged ever closer to our position, affording me with opportunities to dispel and confuse conjurations. If I could confuse a conjured beast for long enough to bring it close to me, I could tie it up and then use it to entrap the sorceror who’d conjured it.

Some of these conjurers were not aged beyond a normal life span, so all this effort simply freed them from demonic possession. I figured the loss of demons would dampen their magical abilities or at least slow them down.

I used one death hawk that I’d managed to get control of to fly back over the Zeika army. They were organised into rows of ground troops with conjurers and renders towards the back. In several places there were pockets of Tanzans still fighting. I flew the death hawk down upon one group, wincing as the Tanzans darted back in fear. But the death hawk had a new target, a render by the name of Jonaal whom I had met before, back in the Plains near Tez.

His presence on the waves was tainted with hate and fear. He hid the latter well, using his bull-strength and render abilities to kill dozens of Tanzans. I switched the hawk just a few paces away from a group of Tanzans and made it drive straight toward Jonaal’s chest. Just when I was preparing for the shock of its death, Jonaal spun around, raised both hands and flung them outwards. There was a painful tearing feeling inside the hawk’s conjured body. The creature flew apart and evaporated in mid-air.

I cursed.

‘Steady,’ Tyba said, holding me front and back with strong arms.

I came back to myself, only to see the dizzying drop over the edge of the tower. I stumbled back, feeling disoriented.

‘He killed it,’ I stammered.

‘They know what you can do, now,’ Tyba said.

My head pounded.

‘Don’t overdo it,’ Jaalta said.

She and Jett were also by my side, watching me with pinched foreheads. Naltoch flew in circles above us, keeping watch. I shrugged and tried to shake my head clear. When I looked back over Condii, I could see a snaking trail of people with torches disappearing into the misty edges of the shroud bowl. The evacuation had begun.

Chapter Twenty-seven—Ignice Jabez

It was deep into the night when the Zeikas had pushed our troops back far enough to be within range of the towers.

I tried desperately not to think of the hundreds of thousands of people who had given their lives to buy time for Condii’s evacuation. There were still ten thousand Tanzan soldiers, but they were in desperate need of rest, food and healing. Unlike many battles I had heard about in Chryne’s history, there was no relief at night.

The Zeikas pushed forward, chasing what they clearly perceived as an advantage at night time. Perhaps they wished to complete the takeover of Condii before the storm clouds above brought forth rain.

As the Zeikas got closer, the increased range of the towers quickly depleted their foremost ranks. They moved forward in an immense line, dividing our fire so that no matter how many were killed, more Zeikas and conjurations were always there to climb over the dead and fill their place.

In this manner they gradually moved forward, killing defender stragglers and reaching each of the seven towers at the front of Condii city at about the same time. Jaalta, myself and the other Anzaii simply couldn’t be everywhere at once.

As soon as we focused our dispelling and confusing abilities on one tower, we gained a foothold there, but lost one of the others. Likewise, each tower was only able to fire its catapults and ballistas on enemies attacking the next tower along. Architect Furlorny’s rubble-dropping contraptions only held back the Zeika ground troops for a time. Despite our best efforts, first one, then two and three towers fell.

When Zeika troops finally managed to break down the doors of our tower, Tyba ordered our retreat.

‘We can fight them,’ I argued.

‘Nay,’ he replied. ‘It’s not worth the risk.’

He pulled me up onto Amadeus’ back, barely waiting for me to strap in. We soared off the edge of the tower, narrowly avoiding arrow fire from dragons and Zeikas both above and below us.

Jaalta was not so lucky. Her shock reverberated through the waves, followed by intense physical pain. An arrow had landed in her ankle, punching straight through the metal boots she wore. With Jaalta clutched in front of him, Jett flew Ptemais straight for the semi-repaired healer building just inside the front gates.

Amadeus carried us back to the gatehouse where King Crystom and his personal guard were stationed. The substantial platform at the top of Condii’s gates was big enough for about a hundred people to stand. A table had been set up towards the back with piles of maps made of vellum, of fabric and even some valuable papyrus ones.

The waves enabled me to discern that one of the people standing nearby was a counter. Another row of tables had piles of supplies from water and bandages through to cross-bow bolts and arrows.

Tyba and Crystom clasped both hands, looking pleased to see one another unharmed.

‘Master Psion Taeon,’ Crystom said after a while. He offered me his hand, which I shook firmly. ‘Thank you for everything you’re doing. I understand you’ve gone without sleep now for more than 16 hours.’

‘At least someone is counting,’ I said with a weak chuckle.

‘Aye,’ said the king, ‘there is a counter among my personal guard who keeps me abreast of these things.’

‘I’ve had a break from the fighting,’ I assured him. ‘I was with Tyba in the city centre when you arrived earlier.’

‘If you feel you need to go and sleep, I would suggest doing so close to Elonavé…’

‘No, thank you, sire. I am needed here.’

The truth was that I sensed something different in the waves. Although it was too much effort to sort through the myriad of thoughts and emotions coming from the Zeikas below us, I was able to glean general shifts in their overall thinking patterns. What seemed to be happening now was an energy build-up of some kind.

Whether motivated by fear or awe, the Zeikas were throwing everything they had against the Tanzan army. There was no more time to ponder —the last of the seven frontal towers was overrun.

Dragons massed above us, dropping flaming oil barrels directly over the gate. If only I’d been able to visit all the Zeika camps and destroy all of them. Amadeus nudged me out of the way of one just in time. The oil barrel smashed straight into him, rolling off his left haunch and onto his furred tail.

Tyba threw water over it, but the skyearl’s shrieks of pain brought tears to my eyes. Amadeus was a friend, not only of Ciera’s, but of mine. When the drama had past, a bloody burn was visible down the skyearl’s striped haunch and tail.

‘My thanks,’ I said, stroking his neck and wincing at the pain he tried to ignore.

‘I wish Ciera was here to help us,’ Tiaro echoed my own thoughts.

More oil barrels fell around us, throwing balls of flame up around the map table and provisions.

‘Can you stop them, Taeon?’ Crystom asked me.

I licked my lips, shielding my face from the blistering heat. ‘I can try.’

Crystom put his hand on my shoulder, saying, ‘I will watch over you.’

Amazed that the king of Tanza would say such a thing, I humbly obeyed his command. Lifting my eyes to the sky I cast aside all concern for my own body and threw the net of my wave senses out over the descending dragons.

With one hand on the Jarian Anzaii belt I caught hold of a group of four dragons and sent confusion into their minds. The suddenly-empty vessels were completely at my mercy. Unable to direct them separately, I sent the suggestion to them to attack the other oil barrel dragons. There were dozens of them nearby carrying barrels of oil towards us and towards the southern end of Condii.

The vicious snarling of the dragons above us brought a whole new frenzy to the battle. The dragons tore at each other, snarling and shrieking like dogs with wings. The sound was terrifying.

Other Zeikas aback their own conjurations swerved to seek out the author of the attack.

Crystom and his entire personal guard were standing over me, with their shields raised. I was vaguely aware that Tyba and Amadeus were caught up some distance away with Zeikas who had landed on the gatehouse.

Zeikas had blockaded the entries to the inner towers near the gatehouse and were burning down the doors with green flames. All around us was the mayhem of battle. I hardly knew what to do.

‘Confuse another,’ Tiaro suggested.

‘There are so many…’

Staring up, as even more dragons with oil barrels flew into Condii, I did not see the approaching fireball. It struck me full in the chest, bowling Crystom and me over. Unable to catch on my fire-resistant clothing, the flames woofed out, but my breath was gone. I struggled there on the ground, unable to breathe until somebody rolled me over and stretched me out.

The heat of the fire had singed the hairs and skin of my neck. My chest ached as if I’d been crushed.

Just as my breath started to come back, I located a new presence with my wave senses. Although I’d come to expect the unexpected over the past year, the vision that presented itself was enough to make the breath rush out of me again.

A whirlwind about twice the size of Ciera raced across the space between the fallen outer towers and the gatehouse. The inner towers continued trying to defend one other. As the whirlwind approached, several of King Crystom’s guards helped the king to his feet and tried to draw him back. They were flung back by the wind and disappeared over the back of the ramparts.

The rest of us stayed where we were, unsure how to face this new threat. My breath came in short gasps and pain seared through my upper body. I wanted to stand, but Crystom gestured for me to stay put.

Out of the winds appeared an immense chestnut horse of the deepest red. Its entire body was enflamed, with small red fires licking off its flesh. The tail and mane were cords of molten lava interspersed with flames. Gold bands encircled some of the cords, chinking as the winged creature hovered.

Its eyes were opaque yellow balls with tiny red slits and its teeth were long enough to rival Rekala’s. Black smoke snorted from its nose and a tinkling of fine silver dust blew out. As the dust settled on the roof, it etched small holes into the stone.

Mounted on the back of the summoned equine was a man whose face I did not know, but he needed no introduction. Here was the ruler of all Reltland, Bal Harar. With pale, youthful skin and large liquid-green eyes, the Bal looked calm and serene upon his oversized, out-of-this-world mount. His eyes roved over the stunned Tanzans, coming to rest on the king.

An arrow sailed at the Bal, fired by one of the king’s personal guard. The demon-horse reared up, taking the arrow into its own fiery hide, where the flames absorbed it. In the same smooth motion, the horse lashed out its head and blasted the guard with flames and hot black soot. His screams pierced the night as the acid particles dissolved his body to ashes. Nobody else fired a shot. Bal Harar continued to stare at us as if studying our every feature.

The Bal was attired in white chainmail, a red cloak and a reflective, silvery chest-plate. A belt of silver girded his waist and a metallic-red ram’s head was nestled over each buckle of his armour.

His head was unprotected and he had close-cropped black hair as fine as a child’s. An elaborate green neck-piece framed his upper torso and a large green stone of some kind was the setting for his Xeldfet. The six-pointed star indicated he was a fully initiated Zeika summoner, as enslaved to Zeidarb as the demon-horse was enslaved to him.

As with Boiva, this behemoth was as elusive on the waves as a wet piece of soap. If its fiery body could absorb a flying arrow I didn’t dare to imagine what would happen if I tried to touch it. Yet how could it be banished if I couldn’t touch it?

While Bal Harar continued to stare at Crystom, the demon-horse’s snake-like eyes seemed locked on me. A pointed tongue flicked out over its fangs.

Although I was unable to discern a way to attack the demon on the waves, I did become aware of its name: Ignice Jabez, the fiery one who causes pain.

It raised its head, sniffing the air. Small flurries of wind brought the smell of rain even closer. I hoped the demon had as strong an aversion to water as Zeikas did in general.

‘Now I really wish Ciera was here,’ I murmured to Tiaro.

‘Well you have us,’ King Crystom suddenly shouted to his enemy.

Surrender?

Bal Harar cocked his head. Ignice Jabez continued to flap its wings, slowly. The sound was distracting, like someone fanning the flames of a fireplace.

‘I only wonder why you, the king of Tanza, are here,’ Bal Harar began, ‘and not within the safety of your waterfall city.’

I could tell Crystom’s heart sank, but his expression did not change. Of course it would seem strange for him to be here. Even as we spoke, the many hundreds of hunter-skyearls in the mists around Centan were struggling to keep the Zeika legions occupied. If the Bal was here, he clearly knew something important was going on in Condii. If he uncovered our ruse now, it was unlikely all our citizens would escape on the Elonavé path.

‘What can I do?’ I asked Tiaro desperately. ‘I don’t know what to do!’

‘Unlike your cowardly kind, I stand with my warriors in battle,’ Crystom declared.

Bal Harar seemed unperturbed by the jibe. Raising one eyebrow he said, ‘You are a fool. For decades I have known you would be the king I finally defeated in Tanza.’

In the distance I sensed eight Zeikas dressed in more finery than usual flocking towards their leader aback tyraks. With one hand on the Belt of Jaria I reached out my other hand to send a psionic shock at first one, then another. The conjured beasts slid out of the sky, falling into dust even as their riders plunged downwards. I managed to dispel three before the remaining five of the Bal’s elite guards reached the gatehouse.

‘Even if you defeat me you will never defeat Tanza. Kriites will be here for eternity,’ Crystom shouted.

‘Ah yes, eternity. Ones with lives as short and pitiful as yours would have to hope in a life after death.’

There was a sour smoke smell and the sound of perpetual crackling flames coming off Ignice Jabez.

‘What do you want?’ King Crystom asked, lifting his arms in surrender.

‘Your lands for my own irrepressible people! You and all your flying feather dusters silenced forever,’ Bal Harar chanted. ‘The psionic powers of your race enfolded into my own.’

Crystom laughed. ‘No matter how many years you live, Harar, you will never live to see that. Even if I should die there will always be another to take up the flow of the waves and resist you.’

Bal Harar leapt from the back of his horse, landing on the roof in a crouching position. The warriors that rushed forward to defend the king were knocked flying by the Bal’s guards or by Ignice Jabez’ burning tail and acid breath even as it hovered.

Fireballs streamed towards Crystom’s Sleffion-kin. The king had raised his sword, but a green flash pushed it aside where it should have struck, and Bal Harar punched him in the chest.

King Crystom’s body convulsed and tensed up as straight as a pillar. The Bal’s fist remained against his chest, shaking with some strange force. Crystom’s feet left the ground.

‘Then die,’ the Zeika leader said, a smile of ecstasy spreading across his face.

With a jerking motion, Bal Harar drew his fist away. The king’s body tore in countless places at once, dark blood gushing out. The arms separated from the body at the shoulder. Veins ruptured in the neck and the legs tore right out of their sockets.

There were screams of shock all around me and more emotions than I could bear. Amadeus and Tyba’s cries of agony reached me through the waves, even though they didn’t specifically intend it.

‘Pleasure meeting you.’ With a courteous smile, Bal Harar flung what remained of the corpse down. I sensed the keening of Crystom’s Sleffion-kin through the waves, like a punch to the chest.

Dozens of skyearls attacked Bal Harar, his guards and the demon-horse, but he shielded himself with some kind of ward. Flashes of green appeared with each blow that landed. He seemed untouchable.

The prince ran towards me shouting, ‘Do something!’

His shock and grief came secondary to the stark realisation that if I didn’t take action, we would all die.

I grabbed Tyba by the arm saying, ‘I need Jaalta and her piece of the Centan tree.’

‘You know she is injured,’ Tyba replied hotly. ‘You have the waves. Use them. Command whoever you need. You have my authority.’

‘All Anzaii to me!’ I shouted through the waves, hoping it was a broadwave like what Jaalta had described. ‘And bring the Centan artefact with you.’

Several preoccupied voices floated back to me saying they would try to reach me.

‘Now!’ I replied. ‘Bal Harar is before us. If we do not delay him, the entire evacuation is in jeopardy.’

Huddling down behind the blackened supply table, I sent my awareness towards Ciera. I quested stubbornly for his mind, finding him in a distant dream, soaring over fields of purest white.

‘Wake up, Emperor,’ I commanded him. ‘Your people need you! I need you.’

There was a hint of recognition. The great skyearl stirred. As he opened first one eye and then the other, he was startled to see the Elonavé pathway already unfolded. He stood up hesitantly, watching as the other shrouder-skyearls coaxed more of the spongy white surface to unfold and flex out towards the north.

A blast of burning air enveloped me and I snapped my attention back to my immediate surroundings. Ignice Jabez had sprayed fire at a group of Tanzans who were firing cross-bows at Bal Harar. Tyba was off to one side, calling in more troops and trying to coordinate their efforts.

Skyearls continued to bombard Bal Harar and the fire-horse. They would soar in and dart back, looking for any opportunity to bite or slash their enemy. They mostly avoided the demon-horse, except to distract it. Any time a skyearl attempted to grapple with it, the singeing flames and acidic breath soon killed them.

Spear-skyearls flew in from the north, pitching their weapons at Bal Harar. Not one made its mark on him. Though some hit the horse, it did not appear to be injured in any way.

‘Tiaro!’ I cried.

‘By the Nine!’ said a soldier nearby.

Having slain all the humans and kin close by, Bal Harar sheathed his swords and gestured at his summoned behemoth. The great fiery wings folded at its side as it landed on top of the gatehouse next to him. It lowered its head and looked around, powerful neck muscles straining against the bounds of its summoned skin. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

More troops ran across the top of the gatehouse, shouting incoherently. Bal Harar threw up his hands, directing fireballs bigger than his head in multiple directions. Unsheathing two swords, he sliced the arm off one opponent and vaulted backwards to avoid the strike of another. His moves were dizzying.

‘Ciera!’ I called. ‘We need you!’

At last my Sleffion-kin started to come to his senses. He shook his wings, which had been bent in an unusual position for six or seven hours. Still groggy, and parched from thirst, he ambled over to the barrels of water that had been left for him. Lightning ripped across the sky as he ate them, wood, nails and all. Four banana trees went next, each one gone in three quick gulps down the enormous gullet.

Ciera flexed his wings and dived off the sky kingdom. The span of his wings easily reached from one side of the central plaza to the other. Without a second thought towards the precious banana trees he’d left behind, he soared straight for the gatehouse.

Canhmalo, Nirixa and Rialb, from the strike force, ran up a rope ladder behind me, followed by Riftweaver from the Condii defenders. Riftweaver was the Anzaii who had watched Ciera create the strike force shroud, and it was they who bore the Shield of Centan.

They passed the shield to me and I held it with reverence. This could save us. I now had four artefacts made with sapphire leafshards to help me: earring, belt, sword and shield.

‘Thank the trees for you, Riftweaver,’ I shouted, noticing my wave-senses expanding out and sharpening. ‘Now stand behind me, all of you. Put your hands on each other and on me.’

‘But we must be touching the behemoth’s physical form in order to dispel it,’ Rialb said.

‘I will touch it,’ I replied. I set aside the fear of what might happen to my hand. There was too much at stake now to be concerned with my own life or wellbeing. If I didn’t act soon, neither I nor any Tanzans would be around to worry about it.

Tiaro was transfixed with Ignice Jabez, her full attention upon it. The demon-horse squealed and pawed the ground, staring straight at us. Bal Harar was occupied with a relentless tide of Tanzan attackers.

‘Splittin’ crystal!’ Ciera sent from afar, still coming to terms with my surroundings. ‘You’re right in front of it!’

‘I can’t believe we’ve lasted this long,’ one of the Anzaii replied.

‘I think there’s a specific reason for that,’ Tiaro said.

Using our close contact with each other and the artefacts, I allowed the other Anzaii to hear Ciera and Tiaro, too.

Without Tiaro even having to say so, I knew her thoughts centred on the Zeikas’ attempts to capture me near both Tez and Telby City. Now that we had seen a waverade artefact, it didn’t seem quite so strange that the Zeikas specifically wanted me.

‘Bal Harar’s minions have failed,’ Tiaro began, including Ciera in the wave, ‘and now he is here to do the job properly.’

‘Over my dead body,’ I growled, speaking out loud for emphasis.

‘That’s exactly what he doesn’t want,’ Tiaro said. ‘I think that’s why he’s landed. And that’s why his horse has not disintegrated us already.’

I stood up from my ineffectual hiding place, the other Anzaii right behind me. Ignice Jabez continued to stare straight at us, snorting its nostrils and curling the back of its mouth in a carnivorous snarl. The pointed yellow teeth in its maw clacked shut less than an arm-length from my face. It reared and screamed, then lowered its head to focus on us once more.

I looked over to my left to see Tyba staring at us in disbelief. The Bal was engaged with at least eight Tanzan warriors, keeping them all at bay with his unbelievable swordsmanship and magic.

‘Do you think Bal Harar knows you have to touch the behemoth in order to dispel it?’ one of the Anzaii asked.

‘Yes,’ Tiaro said. ‘He knows you will step forward to try and defeat it. He will wait until you’re close, then hit you over the head and carry you off.’

‘You are right,’ Ciera agreed, getting closer to our position. ‘I have been battling Bals for centuries. They have a gift for thinking ahead. Bal Harar wants to know our plans. He hates to be outwitted.’

Even though Tanza was more or less defeated, Bal Harar was still bent on gaining access to our wave abilities.

I forced my hand towards the demon-horse’s nose.

‘If it has been instructed not to harm me,’ I began, ‘then perhaps I can touch it without sustaining injury.’

Though fearful, the other Anzaii sent me their support.

‘Do it,’ Ciera said. ‘Try to dispel it. I will be there momentarily. Together we can beat it.’

Ignice Jabez stilled as my hand made contact. It shuddered all over and gave a high-pitched squeal, as if battling within itself. The cords of lava lay slick over its neck, dropping shiny orange blobs onto the roof. The horse’s muzzle was hot to the touch, but it did not burn me. The slick fur felt much like Rekala’s hair after she had been swimming.

‘Ready?’ I asked the gathered Anzaii.

‘Yes,’ came the instantaneous reply within my mind. I jumped forward, grabbed a handful of Ignice Jabez’s forelock and shoved the leafshard of the Centan Shield into the bridge of its nose. I brought the face close to mine, forcing it not to use the acid-smoke, lest it kill the prize. I could feel Nirixa and Riftweaver’s hands on my back.

Dropping from high up in the clouds, Ciera landed on the horse’s back, pushing the enflamed wings away from his soft underside. For long, painful seconds, it felt like we were in two places at once. Ignice Jabez struggled against Ciera’s much greater bulk. Visions of dust and darkness washed over me and the demon-horse was before us in the waves, running in circles around a great corral.

Holding on with all my might, I closed my eyes. The other Anzaii clung to me, hoping that no stray arrows would fly our way and that Bal Harar would remain occupied.

Chapter Twenty-eight—Contingency Plan

Within the dusky atmosphere of the waves, the now wingless demon-horse glowed with a brilliant orange light. It was breathtaking at the same time as being repugnant. The senseless squealing and bucking reminded me of breaking-in wild horses back at home. Would this scenario play out in much the same way?

I moved forward to the wooden beams of the corral. The texture was rough, with thick iron nails holding the rails and posts together. Steeling myself, I climbed over the fence and approached the horse.

‘Steady now, steady,’ I said. Heedless, it continued to run in circles around me, kicking up more and more dust with every pass.

Whenever I got in its way, it would rear or throw its head, kicking out with its front legs. I rolled away from it and looked around for a rope or harness. There was nothing. The horse bellowed at me, working itself into a lather.

As I watched it through my wave senses, it occurred to me that this demon was not as powerful as the two-legged behemoth had been. Unlike Boiva, this demon had been summoned by just one person. It was loyal to Bal Harar and Bal Harar alone. As such, it was weaker than Boiva.

Knowing this gave me the confidence to proceed with the symbolic way my mind had chosen to portray the struggle to me. Tiaro and I had cast out demons many times; it wasn’t so different.

‘Open that gate!’ I shouted to the bewilderment of Nirixa.

‘Ignice Jabez, go back to the waves!’

The demon-horse turned on me with a ferocious glare in its eye. Nirixa and Riftweaver opened the gate as the horse reared up before me. The fur stood out in jagged ripples and fiery light pulsed from the equine body.

It heaved and bent its neck down to scream. An ear-splitting crack ricocheted outwards as semi-transparent light burst from the creature. Tiaro and I hurled our combined mental might at the creature, shooting into it like blue streams of pure energy. Shrieking at us, the fire-demon shot up into the sky and away.

A physical blow to the face shocked me back to my real-world senses. Bal Harar’s demon-horse was gone and his attention was fixed on us. Cahnmalo and Nirixa moved to defend me, but the Bal grabbed first one and then the other, rending their bodies apart with ease. Blood and gore splattered around us.

I gagged, reaching for Fyschs in his white scabbard at my side. My Tolite-kin came out into the blustery night, shining with pent-up fury. After all the ranged fighting we had done, it felt strange to finally draw my sword.

Rialb and Riftweaver hung back, uncertain what to do.

‘Get to safety,’ I ordered them. ‘Live to fight another battle.’ Tanza had lost far too many of its Anzaii. Rialb called her Sleffion-kin and jumped off the gatehouse, however, Riftweaver remained.

‘I’m not leaving you alone, Master Psion.’

The thunder that slapped our turbulent surroundings was soon followed by a ripple of lightning. The storm was getting closer.

‘Trees, help us,’ I prayed, ‘send rain.’

‘Rain will hinder as much as help us at this point,’ Ciera argued, biting a dragon through the mid-section and tossing the body aside. ‘It will dissipate the cloud content of the shrouds around Centan and Condii, revealing exactly what we’re up to with Elonavé.’

More Zeikas had landed on the gatehouse. Tyba and his troops ran to engage them before they could reach me. Bal Harar tore apart any humans who strayed too close to him. Those who held back to fire arrows were unable to penetrate the shimmering green shield circle around his body. They were soon obliterated by his and other Zeikas’ fireballs.

He won’t want to kill me, I thought. So it’s up to me to engage him. I can save some more lives.

Overhead, other skyearls could not get close. Swarms of dragons and death hawks grappled with them, breathing green fire over them, biting with their yellow razor-edge teeth and gouging with their claws. Ciera struggled against an oscidar, which was a conjuration like a gigantic meat-blob with four mouths, and a host of dragons.

Riftweaver danced out of the Bal’s reach, well aware that he could cast a rending spell on them if he managed to touch them. Bal Harar threw a fireball, which they ducked. I moved in from behind, driving Fyschs in a sideswipe that nearly beheaded him.

The Bal rolled and came to his feet with two swords drawn. These he slashed at me, using manoeuvres I had never been taught by Sarlice. I concentrated on defending myself with my Tolite-kin and the Shield of Centan.

Each blow that struck Fyschs was like a wooden paling being whacked across the bones of my arms or my shins. Fyschs was a living extension of me, moving faster than conscious thought, reacting in tune with my body’s heightened reflexes.

Riftweaver, being only A.S. had no weapon-kin to use against the Bal. Their Sleffion-kin, the gold skyearl, was not far away, but was fighting for her life.

‘Go to Rawn,’ I suggested. What did they think they could do without her? Perhaps Riftweaver was ready for advanced Anzaii tactics. Could they confuse a conjuration if I gave them back the shield? But I need it!

All four of my leafshard artefacts enhanced my perceptions, decreasing my reaction time to his casting. When he reached to rend me Tiaro gave me split-second impulses to duck out of reach. Knowing that I could use conjurations against him, the Bal fought me only with swords and fire.

With Fyschs in my right hand, I blocked and moved away from Bal Harar’s strikes. Having backed me into a corner, the Bal knocked the shield from my hands. It clanged on the stone roof. Before I could get Fyschs in the right position he crashed the hilt of one of his swords against my head.

I staggered back, barely registering that he was raising both swords up high to attack yet again. Executing ‘candle maker’, I planted both feet and lifted Fyschs upwards in a straight line with both hands. With the strength of my thigh muscles under me, I blocked the Bal’s attack, drove upwards and pushed him back.

He stumbled momentarily. Bal Harar was limited by not wanting to kill me, but I did not have the same problem.

‘We need the shield! Get the shield!’ Tiaro screamed. My head felt like it was about to split. The shield was behind Bal Harar, out of reach. But my need for it was so great. This could be the difference between keeping my freedom and capture. I shifted partway into icetiger form, sending Tiaro and Fyschs into the waves along with the Shield of Centan—then halted the magic.

It was the first time I’d moved something into the waves I wasn’t touching. The shield was there in the waves. This is going to work!

‘Bring it out with you, Tiaro!’ Reaching out with all of our psionic energy we dragged everything back with us. I resumed human form, making Fyschs and the shield appear in my hands. ‘Praise the Nine!’

Head and chest aching, I strived against my pain to perform a series of offensive moves, from the low jabs of ‘stoking the fire’ to the quick and complicated side, lower and upper attacks of ‘flying sparks’. The Zeika leader shied away from the shield whenever I managed to bring it close.

I pushed Harar back, keeping my feet in sturdy positions as I ‘crossed the kindling’ and attacked him with two rapid slashes. I succeeded with the strenuous crouch, switch and strike attacks of ‘blazing inferno’ for the first time. Then, in a ‘stirring the soup’ hit that would have made Sarlice proud, I knocked one of Bal Harar’s swords flying.

While his remaining sword kept Fyschs at bay, I struck him in the face with the Centan shield. This hurt him more than I had expected. I heard screeches and witnessed a dual-layer of reality with demons fleeing from the Bal’s body in the waves. He staggered and glared at me, the beige skin of his face ageing ten years.

‘Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, boy.’

I resumed a defensive stance, sword and shield raised. He pointed one palm at me. A burst of flames scored my right eye and scalded the flesh of my cheek and ear. Pain erupted and the vision in my right eye was washed with red.

My shout must have reverberated through the waves. Riftweaver and their golden skyearl landed nearby to help me. Simultaneously a group of dragon-riders landed behind the Bal. Keeping my body between Riftweaver and Bal Harar I pushed the shield into their hands.

‘Confuse one of the dragons,’ I instructed. ‘Use the Centan artefact to take control and then use it against the others.’

‘I don’t know how,’ they responded, perplexed.

I could sense more Zeikas and Tanzans converging on our position. Word had passed around that the Bal himself was battling the master psion.

Riftweaver dispelled one of the dragons and their Sleffion-kin grappled with one of the riders.

‘You will never take me alive,’ I said to Bal Harar. ‘Every dragon you bring will only be used against you.’ One of the dragons bit the head off the other. I reached out my psionic senses to confuse another.

With an expression like stone, Bal Harar stretched out his spare hand to me, as if willing to rend me there and then. I jumped out of his reach and tried a round-house kick. The Bal was too quick, crabbing in a circle around me, controlling the fight. I held Fyschs up in front of me, chest heaving. My arms locked up with fatigue and the scalds on my face burned wetly. I need rest.

‘Don’t give up, Taeon,’ Ciera said. ‘While the Bal is distracted here, more Tanzans escape to Ravra.’

‘I need help,’ I called. ‘I can’t do this for much longer.’

Ciera struggled more violently against his own attackers, striving to get to me. I was vaguely aware of Riftweaver celebrating over successfully confusing one of the dragons.

Fyschs struck the Bal’s shoulder, shearing off a piece of his armour and leaving a shallow cut. He jumped back, surprised that we got through his guard. The scrap of metal clattered onto the stone roof.

‘Do not mistake my interest in you for fear,’ the Bal said. ‘You are nothing but a tool I will use against others of your ignorant, self-righteous kind.’

I glared at him. Hadn’t he already taken enough from me? How could a young man from a tribe so far away mean so much to this bicentenarian? I had done nothing to deserve any of this. The unfairness of it burned red behind my eyes. ‘You may think you will live forever, but I will take you apart year after year, piece by piece.’

He struck at me with renewed strength. Fyschs met his every blow, but the strain on my arms and back was starting to toll. Before the pain became too distracting, I assumed icetiger form. I stalked around him, growling under my breath.

The Bal held his sword at the ready. Expecting a blow to the head, I pounced anyway, sinking my teeth into his exposed forearm. The hilt of his sword smacked down into my forehead at the same time as my fangs found bone. His shout of pain was muffled by the clouding of my awareness. I slumped back into human form, barely managing to stay awake. I could not make my body move.

Ciera descended onto the top of the gatehouse, breaking the stone at one corner with his weight. With his good elbow, the Bal hit me in the gut. Scrambling to his feet, he awkwardly wrapped his injured arm with a shred from his cloak.

Blood spouted from the wound, splashing on the grey stone. A flash of lightning above was reflected momentarily in its sheen. Still unable to clear my head, I rolled onto my side, blinking. The Bal kicked me savagely in the chest.

With the outrush of my breath, blackness swarmed across my vision, yet I clung to consciousness, desperate not to be taken.

Bal Harar held his good hand out and made a swirling motion, speaking words I could not understand. A dragon coalesced in the air before him, its many spines flexing as it stood rigid before its master.

The Bal’s concentration was now divided, just as mine would be if I was confusing a dragon.

He climbed onto the creature’s back just before it reared and blasted an approaching skyearl with green flames. Then it stepped forward to clutch me with its claws. I squirmed backwards and the immense talons shredded my chain-mail vest. The thick, muscular arms were cool against my exposed skin, clammy and unreal. I struggled, but the dragon advanced on its hind legs, snarling.

Its claws took the skin off my arms and ribs in great gouges as it grasped me.

Thunder crashed and Ciera’s roar carried the sound to new heights as he rushed to my side. Easily fifteen times the size of the dragon, Ciera slapped it off me with his forepaws. It rose into the air, breathing flames over my Sleffion-kin’s head. He shied away from the Zeika flames then bowed his head to strike with his horns, which faced backwards.

This manoeuvre gashed the hovering dragon’s neck, which did not react to the injury even when black and green liquid oozed out. Instead it reared back and tore at Ciera’s face with all four legs. Sharp claws drove through the bridge of Ciera’s nose, cutting through one of his domes. My Sleffion-kin’s head jerked back in pain, but it was a feint. A split second later, his teeth snapped down, chopping off the dragon’s forelegs completely. He spat them onto the parapet where they fizzled and vanished.

Bal Harar’s voice called out incoherent words and forelegs started to reform on the tyrak’s body. I had never seen a Zeika with such power before. Only an Anzaii could defeat him, that much was clear, but I was nearly senseless.

Riftweaver stepped forward, holding out the shield to dispel the Bal’s dragon. Tyba and Jett came to my side, lifting me off the ground. Realising his chance to snatch me had passed, Bal Harar made his dragon fly up in an angry spiral.

Other dragons joined him. To my blurred vision, they were little more than a dark mass against the even darker backdrop of the livid clouds. It was my wave senses that told me exactly how many were there.

Riftweaver was struggling to affect the Zeika leader’s conjuration. I presumed he had a more advanced hold upon it than lesser Zeikas did. I lacked the concentration to lend my wave-strength to hers. Get it together, I told myself. Now is the time.

‘I had hoped to preserve your life, Taeon son of Kerra,’ Bal Harar shouted at me. ‘Instead you will most likely die along with the rest of these scum, but I will return to Feladaire with my prize. The female you call Sarlice will be fine sport for our arcane arena and a ready breeder should you fail to retrieve her. Between hers and the offspring of the princess, I will have the power to enslave all Kriites eventually. Unlike you, I can wait another twenty years.’

Roaring unintelligibly I struggled to rise. Many hands prevented me from getting to my feet. The troop of dragons flapped once more in a menacing circle above us. As Ciera and a dozen other skyearls took flight to attack them, the Zeikas flew away in a downward path over the walls of Condii. Rallying my psionic power I blasted the dragons I could still see with a dispel attack that evaporated them mid-flight. Five or six Zeikas fell to their deaths.

‘Let me go!’ I shouted, my voice breaking with emotion. When the hands released me dizziness took hold and I stumbled. Someone caught me. It was still difficult to breathe. My body hurt in so many places I couldn’t tell which was which.

In the back of my mind, I could hear Amadeus speaking to Ciera through a direct wave.

‘Tyba thinks he has combat fatigue,’ Amadeus said. ‘We will send him back to the fortress to rest. There are not so many people there now. It will be quiet for him.’

I struggled, trying to shove the hands off me. At Tyba’s signal, the Tanzans held me more firmly. Bal Harar and his troop had disappeared into the night.

‘Split it!’ I growled vehemently at the Tanzans around me. ‘We should have killed him.’

I staggered against one of them. His look of shock and concern told me how out-of-control I seemed.

Elsewhere, the battle continued. Skyearls and dragons fought all over Condii. A terrible crash sounded beneath us and hundreds of Zeika ground troops threw down the gates and clattered into the city.

‘Get him back to the fortress,’ Tyba said to those who were holding me up.

Still unable to stand unaided, let alone hold myself on Ciera’s back, I allowed myself to be pulled up onto a Sleffion-kin and held in place by a Tanzan warrior.

‘I’ve got you, Master Psion,’ a deep male voice said.

Even with my head pounding, and barely able to hold my eyes open, my wave senses told me the names of both man and skyearl. This was Commander Saige, the military leader of Kovain who had fled here only recently. His Sleffion-kin was named Ayrae and was one of the largest skyearls in the realm aside from Ciera.

The skyearl spread her wings and launched off the gatehouse. Crashes and booms sounded above and below us. The roars of pain and anger from the many thousands of skyearls around us were drowned out by increasingly frequent claps of thunder, but I still heard them through the waves.

It was harder to hold it all back now. Fire and lightning lit the buildings below us, many of which had been burnt out. Some of those that were still intact now served as military stations or cover for either Zeikas or Tanzans.

‘You must take me to Sarlice,’ I said to Ciera, who had remained behind to fight, despite his injuries.

‘Nay,’ he replied. ‘You would only be captured. Then what would all this have been for?’

‘Sarlice needs us!’ I shouted back angrily. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

‘You already knew she’d been taken,’ Ciera said.

‘Bal Harar, himself, has targeted her. They’re going to torture her,’ I cried.

Commander Saige’s arms held me tightly against his chest. The gouges in my sides were being pinched, sending sparks of agony, and anger, through my entire body. The pain helped me to come more fully awake.

‘There is more at stake here,’ Ciera argued. ‘You know that as well as I do.’

‘Curse Corypha!’ I railed. ‘It’s his splittin’ fault.’

Chapter Twenty-nine—Catharsis

As soon as Ayrae touched down, I struggled from Saige’s bear-hug and slid down the skyearl’s side to a crouching position on the ground. I took a few moments to gather my strength and still my spinning head.

Disregarding the blood spots I left behind me, I marched straight into the fortress. Saige, Jett and the other Tanzans Tyba had sent back exchanged glances and followed me.

‘Let us attend to your wounds,’ they said. ‘What are you doing?’, ‘Where are you going’, ‘Master Psion… please…’

Ignoring them, I made my way through the now-familiar halls of Condii Fortress. The sounds of the storm and the fighting were audible even inside the thick walls. Very few people remained within, most of whom were running with last-minute supplies and valuables.

The majority of the Condiites were already up on the Elonavé path, or were helping to organise those still waiting in line. The civilians from Centan and Kovain were the last to make it inside the city and many of them were yet to be herded inside the lower parts of the Elonavé sky fort.

I pulled off my gloves, letting them fall to the floor as I entered the prison-sector. Corypha had been left unattended. He had managed to pull the guard table up against his cell and pinch some food and a wooden baton. Bread and fruit were stockpiled inside his cell along with a clay pitcher of water. Pieces of wood had broken off inside the lock of his cell door.

Without bothering to find the key, I marched straight up to the bars, reached in and grabbed Corypha by the neck. Pulling him up against the bars I noticed the bruising on his chin from our last meeting.

‘To whom did you send that missive?’ I demanded.

The bones of his neck creaked beneath my fingers and his unwashed body stunk of sweat and fear.

‘I will not tell you,’ he spat.

I blinked, feeling the cold spittle slide down my hot cheek. ‘They have taken her.’

Despite his predicament, Corypha sneered. Is this all a joke to him? ‘Give yourself up and they’ll let her go.’

‘Not the Wavekeepers, you half-wit,’ I interrupted, pulling him closer against the bars. His face turned to the side, one eye squished shut. ‘The Zeikas. You gave the information to them that lead to her capture.’

‘Impossible,’ he sputtered. ‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about, you animal! Let me go.’ He looked to the others trying to crowd in behind me. ‘Someone get him off me!’

I gripped him even tighter, teeth clenched so hard that the ache in my skull threatened to tear through my very flesh.

‘You gave Sarlice to the Zeikas,’ I accused him, pushing him away and then pulling him back against the bars, ‘to be tortured and used. How else could they have known her whereabouts? How else could Bal Harar himself have realised her importance to me?’

He pulled feebly against me, trying to pry my hands off his neck with dirty, nail-bitten fingers.

‘I don’t know how,’ he replied, letting go of my wrists, ‘but we are in a war you imbecile. If they have her then you might as well forget about her.’ He must have seen the look of refusal in my eyes. ‘She’s dead,’ he whispered. ‘If you go after her, the rest of us will be, too.’

‘No.’

I pressed my thumbs into the soft part of his throat. He coughed and gagged. Commander Saige’s hands were on my arms, trying to pull me away.

‘That’s enough now. Come along now. You’re tired from battle, Specialist.’

The sound of a loud explosion reached us from outside the fortress. Easing off Corypha’s throat momentarily I said, ‘Do you hear that? That is the sound of our defeat.’

‘What little good you and your fancy wave tricks did,’ he replied. ‘You’re nothing but a danger to us all.’

‘If it weren’t for you,’ I shouted, ‘the strike force might have saved Condii. Condii might have saved Tanza.’

‘That’s right!’ I heard Jett say.

‘That’s unlikely, Taeon,’ Commander Saige said from behind. His grip tightened on my arms and I had to struggle against both him and Corypha to maintain my hold on the remorseless prisoner.

‘Let go,’ said Commander Saige.

‘Not until he tells me who he gave the missive to,’ I replied. ‘There are others of his traitorous kind among us.’

‘I will not tell you,’ Corypha said, reaching one hand up to grip my arm with surprising strength. Had his earlier weakness been a feint? I glanced down and caught sight of a sharpened stick he had brought from underneath his prison robe. He’s going to kill me! I was affronted more than afraid. Even in the face of his own stupidity and betrayal—giving the Zeikas information they could use to enslave me—his focus remained on finding a way to kill me.

‘If my fellow Kriites will not stop you, I will,’ he ranted. We gripped each other tighter, a deadly embrace with prison bars in between. My energy was ebbing, but Corypha seemed to be gaining strength. ‘Your behaviour only demonstrates how dangerous and unpredictable psions can be. I hear you can even control Zeika monsters.’ He looked around to make sure there were plenty of people to hear his words. ‘Only a Zeika could do that. That’s what you’re becoming!’ Then he whispered so only I could hear, ‘I am glad that the Anzaii were poisoned. None of you can be trusted. You are—’

The sharpened stick darted upwards. Talons sprouted from my fingertips and disappeared into his neck. My hard black claws pierced the tender skin and spilled his lifeblood over the both of us.

Commander Saige hauled me back with all his strength and we fell against the desk and chairs, snapping wood and bruising our backs. Corypha sagged against the wall of his cell, dazed.

‘What have you done?’ Commander Saige demanded.

He and the other Tanzans who had accompanied us struggled to clear the wood from the lock and open Corypha’s cell. His blood flowed out between the fingers he pressed against his neck. The hook-shaped nose bled, but the look in his eyes was smug.

Commander Saige went to him and pressed torn fabric against the wounds in his neck. My own injuries continued to bleed and waves of dizziness threatened to overwhelm me. The waves?

Shock reopened my senses to the waves and a flood of questions rushed in from Ciera and Tiaro. Halduronlei floated between us, but, realising what I had done, Ciera allowed the song to slowly fade away.

‘You nearly killed Corypha…’ he stammered, barely believing it.

‘It was not my intention,’ I replied.

‘You were in a rage,’ Tiaro said hesitantly, ‘like Ciera was a while ago. We could not reach you.’

‘The Zeikas have overrun most of the city,’ Ciera told me. ‘You must come to Elonavé. We will sort this out later.’

Saige and the Tanzans glared at me as they lifted Corypha’s limp body. They did not see the piece of wood with a wicked end lying on the floor.

‘Ciera says the Zeikas are upon us,’ I told them. ‘If we do not reach Elonavé, we will die here.’

I climbed to my feet, glanced at Corypha one last time and departed.

Ayrae was somewhat hesitant as I went to climb onto his back. His neck curved in a threatening arc and his eyes bored into me, searching. I held myself back from him in the waves, preferring to be alone to figure out what had just happened. A sinking weight inside said it wasn’t right. Commander Saige got up behind me, leaving the other skyearls and their humans to carry Corypha.

Dragons clamoured close by and the storm was closing in.

‘Let’s get away from here,’ Commander Saige said.

Jett was on Ptemais close behind us, concern etched into his features. He and the other Tanzans followed us up into the sky on their skyearls, but we were soon separated. Dragons massed in the skies around us, flying between the shrouds blasting stray skyearls and people with green fire. The enormous, white mass that was Elonavé was surrounded by billowing clouds. The air was thick with moisture from the gathering storm.

Lighting struck the top of Elonavé, nearly hitting some of the beings that ducked and dashed across it. The civilians were screaming and running, jostling against those in front on the Elonavé path. Most of the people clutched a survival pouch, food supplies and their own belongings. Anything extra was loaded onto animals or left behind.

Through one eye I strained to witness the impressive sight of thousands of skyearls flying in circles around the spongy pathway, ensuring no humans were attacked. Shrouds had been created right underneath the Elonavé path to catch any who fell.

Squadrons of defender warriors and Zeikas battled along the lower shrouds. More dragons were flying in all the time. Maybe their Zeika riders had started to realise the Tanzans were attempting escape.

Flying archers and spear-skyearls chased them down, often never reappearing. As Ayrae flew us over the pathway, I noticed Ciera down below. He and only a handful of others were fighting a group of ten or twenty dragons. The point of one of his purple horns had broken off and there were burn-marks and bloody wounds all over his body. His skin gaped in places and the dragons were quick to target those unprotected patches.

Streams of green fire were blasted at him from five directions. He spiralled upwards, flying towards me. Gripping my belt in one hand, I confused three of the dragons and closed my eyes. Seeing through the eyes of the dragons, I caused their bodies to turn about and crash into the other dragons nearby. Leaving behind a trail of shroud, Ciera shot upwards.

He flew with Ayrae for a while, conversing privately through the waves, while I covered him. I killed the three dragons and their riders by flying them straight into the ground. That left a dozen more within my range. I dispelled one, confused another and bit the heads off the Zeika riders of six other dragons. Suddenly the one I’d been controlling was slain. Coming back to myself with a jolt, I looked below and saw the dead Zeika lying on the shroud below the path. A black arrow stuck out of the rider’s body—he had been shot by one of his own.

Ciera, Ayrae and Ptemais landed on a small shroud platform the emperor had made, and I continued dispelling and confusing dragons. One smashed into Ciera’s back as I crashed another dragon into it. Ciera bit my dragon through the neck and crushed the Zeika conjurer between his claws.

My head swam and I slumped forward onto Ayrae’s neck. My body sagged and slid, but Jett was there to catch me. Commander Saige got down behind me and had a look at my injuries. My legs couldn’t hold me up. The right side of my face had gone stiff and I could only see out of a tiny part of my eye. Jett and I stood transfixed by the incredible scene around us.

The sounds of collapsing buildings, howling children and screaming adults filled my mind. Smoke, shrouds and wind billowed around us. Despite his exhaustion, Ciera made his shroud move quickly through the air, overtaking the slow walking progress of the Tanzan escapees below.

Several deaths registered in my mind as shrouder skyearls, who had given all they had to defend the humans, folded their wings and fell limply to the ground.

Ciera moved off to rally the surviving shrouders and encourage them not to overdo it. If too many died, there would not be enough left alive to bear the burden of the Elonavé path. Like Raer, it would fall, taking all the humans with it. Those people who had Sleffion-kin rode aback their skyearls, but there were simply far too many people for the skyearls to ferry them all to Ravra in the same amount of time. Enabling 460,000 people to travel over ten leagues unhindered was no easy feat.

Swarms of dragons were flying around the base of the Elonavé fortress-path, like vultures looking for an easy place to strike. Green fires had sprouted all over Condii, including the fortress. The sentry towers had been abandoned and the last of the defenders had retreated to defend the civilians on the Elonavé path.

I covered my ears as a deafening thundercrack erupted above and below us. The bolt of lightning struck somewhere near Condii Fortress leaving a jagged trail of orange sparks floating in mid-air. More thunder rumbled above us and the rolling black clouds finally disgorged their load.

One minute the air was smoky and misty, filled with the sounds and smells of fire and destruction; the next it was blanketed with sheets of rain that drowned out all other sounds. I sank to my knees, only kept from falling face first onto the shroud by Jett’s arms.

The wispy edges of the shrouds throughout Condii were quickly absorbed in the falling torrent and dissipated, leaving the more solid shroud stuff exposed.

The Zeikas flew in angry bunches, finally able to see more of what was going on. Although the shrouds had been cleared away by the rain, the rain itself blanketed the land in a grey miasma. The fires that had cut off some off the escapees slowly went out, allowing the final survivors to leap onto parts of the Elonavé path.

The rectangular prism I had first perceived Elonavé to be had completely transformed; the structure was now almost fully rolled out. Only a small part of it remained over Condii City.

Dozens of Rada and their kin leapt from the city walls onto the departing tail of Elonavé, having fended off enough attacks in the city streets to make a final desperate dash. These were mainly in the form of predators.

Drenched and cold, my physical pain paled in comparison to the guilt, sorrow and frustration that assaulted my spirit. Unable to put words to my anguish, I collapsed against Jett, who lay me on my side. What would the world be like under Zeika domination? What were we meant to be doing with the Anzaii artefacts? It had all happened so quickly.

I must have lain there for a long time because when I woke, my body felt like a cold, wet plank. Stiff neck. Pins and needles in my left hand and forearm underneath me. I could hear the pattering of rain, but not feel it. I opened my left eye. Even that was painful. A dark green and blue ceiling lay between me and the world, like the top of a canvas shelter, but feathered. It took a few minutes for me to register it as my Sleffion-kin’s wing.

‘King Crystom…’ I stammered.

‘Killed by Bal Harar,’ Ciera reminded me. Sorrow enveloped me as the memory of his death came back to me. I saw his body rent limb from limb. Against such might, how could we prevail? Against such manipulation and deception.

‘What became of Corypha?’ I queried, remembering the feel of my claws in his neck.

‘He is alive,’ Ciera replied, ‘fortunately for you.’

I pondered for a time on whether I would be punished for injuring him.

‘What is the hour?’ I queried.

‘Well past noon, Soversday,’ Ciera replied.

‘The first day of winter?’

‘Yes,’ Ciera agreed. ‘The battle continues, but with the help of the rain, we are resisting the Zeikas’ attacks.’

‘Enough of the army survives to defend us then?’ I asked.

The Emperor skyearl nodded, parting the flight feathers on his wing a little to let some fresh air and light into my cocoon. I pulled myself up to a sitting position, leaning heavily against Ciera’s flank. The material of my shirt had fused with the wounds on my sides, causing some to tear open again when I moved. The pain dizzied me. My hands lay flaccid by my sides.

‘Sarlice,’ I murmured, ‘where is she?’

‘Thita says they are still in transit, but they’re nearly out of Tanza now.’

‘Curse them,’ I swore. Then, ‘Rekala,’ I called. ‘Please say you are safe.’

The Jarian belt made reaching my Rada-kin easy. Once we had connected, it seemed as if she was not so far away. Rekala, Kestric and the survivors from Lantaid were in the chasm.

‘We are safe,’ she replied, ‘but Kestric is torn apart by his desire to return for Sarlice. He knows he cannot, but that doesn’t stop him fretting.’

If only I hadn’t told Corypha about her—perhaps the Zeikas would never have targeted her. Hopelessness welled in me. I wished we could mount a rescue, but I knew Ciera and I were both needed here. The Tanzan survivors’ most desperate hour was upon us.

‘I will go to her,’ I said, ‘just as soon as this is over.’

‘Yet, if you do,’ Tiaro argued, ‘you condemn countless Kriites to persecution and death. Using your wave-skills in a waverade artefact, the Bal could potentially track down every Kriite within six leagues.’

‘Enough!’ I scolded her, pulling my Anzaii-kin from my ear and stuffing it in my pocket.

‘You need meat,’ Rekala observed.

Jett ducked under my Sleffion-kin’s wing and pushed some of the hair out of my face, inspecting my injuries. A broad egg had formed across my brow where Bal Harar had struck me. It pulled the flesh of my face taut, sending pain down as far as my neck.

‘Too bad you can’t whole-morph,’ Jett commented. ‘I hear there are some Rada in Jaria who can do that.’

I thought of Healing Master Safton, but couldn’t raise the energy to open my mouth. I sensed the approach of Amadeus and Tyba, with about five other skyearl-riders flying in escort. After landing and conversing with Commander Saige, the prince strode over to me.

‘How is he?’ Tyba asked, coming under the shelter of the great skyearl’s wing.

‘He is at the end of his strength,’ my Sleffion-kin replied.

‘There are no major injuries, but he needs some healing attention and rest,’ Jett added.

‘Get him a tincture,’ Amadeus suggested, perceiving the force of my pain.

One of the prince’s guards retrieved a small bottle of parn and handed it to me. Thirsty and hungry, I glanced at Ciera’s back. In all the mad rush, Ciera and Jett had thought to attach my packs to his battle-seat. Not wanting to move too much, I gestured at a waterskin that hung within Jett’s reach. He passed it to me.

‘Where is Jaalta?’ I asked. I couldn’t have reached out to her without putting Tiaro back in my ear.

‘Ahead of the Elonavé line,’ Tyba replied. ‘The sick and injured are being carried by skyearls or on separate shrouds like this one.’

And the dead lay far behind us, too burdensome to carry along.

‘I’m sorry about the… your father,’ I croaked.

Tyba looked down, saying, ‘He was a fearless leader to the end.’

I drank another swig of the parn and leaned back against my skyearl. Ciera’s calm loyalty flowed through the waves, comforting me despite all that had happened. No matter what, he would stick by me. An unspoken fear hovered in our minds; that I would be tried and expelled from the Tanzan army for harming a prisoner. Like mosts Kriite nations or tribes, Tanza had strict rules about the treatment of prisoners of war. Either Tyba did not know about it yet or he chose not to speak of it.

‘See to him,’ Tyba said to one of the guards, who promptly brought a cloth and medical swabs to my side. With Jett’s help, they pulled me forward from Ciera’s side and removed my chainmail overcoat. Using the wet swabs and herbs, they gently pried my undershirt from my sides. Despite their care, the wounds broke and pain throbbed afresh. I swallowed some more of the parn.

Tyba’s guards fashioned a makeshift bed for me and Jett rolled my cloak for a pillow. My neck ached from having been flung out on the flat surface of the shroud for most of the day. Lying there under Ciera’s wing, with the quiet drizzle of the rain, I fell into a sort of trance. Removing Tiaro was giving me a nice break from the extra awareness she granted me. The murmuring of the prince and his guards became a dull buzz.

Condii was overrun and tens of thousands more Zeikas were due to arrive there tomorrow, yet all I could think of was how I would get to Sarlice. With the Zeikas’ head-start, it was impossible for me to stop them reaching Reltland. That was exactly where they wanted me, but not following meant so much suffering for Sarlice.

No matter where you are, Sarlice, I will find you.

Chapter Thirty—The Escape

The scars on the palms of my hands ached. A reddish tinge had tainted the normal flesh around them. I tried to rub it off, but the spots remained. Maybe it was because of the cold of being high up in the sky for nearly three days.

Thita told me that Sarlice had been taken out of Tanza by her Zeika escort. They had landed outside the border and met up with another group of prisoners, mostly girls who had been chosen for their youth and good looks. Bal Harar met them, sneering when he saw Sarlice for the first time.

Thita hid in some trees nearby wishing he could reassure Sarlice he was nearby. The wards the Zeikas had set on her prevented any wave communications. Thita promised me that as soon as an opportunity presented itself, he would fly in and help her to escape.

Helpless to assist them, I turned my thoughts back to the present. Many Tanzans were still dying in countless sky and shroud battles with the Zeikas. Although thousands of Zeikas still pursued us, Tyba had commanded the Tanzans to keep me away from the fighting. Ciera flew without me, helping where he could, ignoring his own injuries.

Jett brought food and drink to me every few hours, bathed and redressed my wounds. We were visited by people whose names I didn’t know. Names I didn’t want to know. Tiaro remained in my pocket. My head was spinning and I wished to be back home in Jaria forest where I could find a log in a quiet glade or a cave to curl up in.

Even though I could walk around, I was not allowed to help in any way. Those on the shroud with me concentrated on their maps, sent messages via the waves, into Ravra and secluded parts of Tanza where some Kriites had chosen to remain.

All across our great nation the evacuation was coming to an end. With groups of people exiting the realm in several places it would be seasons before we all came together once more.

Floating over the river Jarvi where the ground-based Zeikas could not easily follow us, the snaking Elonavé path had come to a halt. The many shrouder skyearls who had guided it all this way, rested on the shrouds beneath it even as their brethren fought off scores of the most determined Zeikas and dragons.

With so much rain still about, the green fire of the dragons was not as effective as it could have been, but their teeth and claws were still formidable weapons. I paced back and forth on my shroud, feeling that I should go and help the Tanzans who were fighting. I put Tiaro back onto my ear.

‘You can’t even see properly out of your right eye,’ Tiaro said to me.

‘I have to do something,’ I responded.

‘Just wait,’ Tiaro advised. ‘Remember your time with Damia and Annie in Tez after you burned your hands.’

‘When I first met you,’ I murmured.

‘Yes,’ the earring replied. ‘You knew then you could do nothing to help Rekala until your wounds had healed. Now is much the same. You must let others do their part.’

It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had been with Damia and Annie in Tez, but it had been less than two seasons. What would my father and mother’s old friends think of me now? True, I had advanced in skill to become one of the best Anzaii in Tanza, but at what cost?

What parts of myself had I left behind to do the things I had done… to face the things I had faced? Would anyone understand?

‘I understand,’ Ciera told me from afar. ‘We have some tough times ahead of us, but whatever happens—I am with you.’

Tiaro’s agreement flowed around me, but there was little anyone could do to make me feel at peace today. I yawned and coughed moodily, looking out over the sun-seared shrouds beneath us. Rays of golden morning light penetrated the white mists, casting strange shadows. The magical appearance of sun-showers and rainbows in the teal sky, pearlescent with the barrier shield in parts, were a stark contrast to the struggle and death still around us.

The people of Condii, Centan and Kovain trudged doggedly on beneath us. In some places, groups of them had stopped to rest. Where possible, these were picked up by skyearls and flown the rest of the way into Ravra.

I moved to the head of Ciera’s shroud and gazed at the cliffs of Tanza’s border we were nearing. Thousands of almost-vertical lines decorated the rock face. These were shadows cast by the many channels that cut their way from the top of the cliff to the bottom. Leading up to the border were more karst towers like the ones around Condii City.

Condii City, that I would probably never see again. Despair threatened to overwhelm me but I was acutely aware of the presence of other humans nearby, glancing at me. Some had compassion in their eyes, others condemnation. The guilt was almost too much to bear—it was as if my attack on Corypha had undone everything good I had ever done for Tanza.

Rage rose within me. People were too quick to judge. They did not know he was going to try to kill me. Would I even have a chance to say so?

I looked up into the sky above. Although the rainclouds still clustered thickly, obscuring my already-limited vision, I knew Ciera was up there. A few minutes later he sailed down and down—first a speck, then an enormous glistening, green, purple and blue feathered skyearl.

‘Let’s go for one last flight over Tanza,’ he suggested, sadly.

I gathered the possessions I had spread out on the spongy white floor of the shroud and climbed up the ladder to stuff them into the packs on Ciera’s battle harness. I crawled into Ciera’s battle-seat, the bandages around my torso pulling painfully when I stretched my arms.

Safely on board I waved goodbye to Jett and the remaining Tanzans. Ciera flew to the north. Even more vulnerable to the wind and rain, I huddled into the fur coat Sarlice had given me. The facade of peace I had worn while on the cloud ebbed away and misery filled my eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a sign of nature’s indifference.

Tremendous sadness also suffused Ciera’s being. Although he was, arguably, one of the greatest skyearls that had ever lived, he had been unable to defend Tanza from the Zeikas. Now that the time had come to leave his beloved homeland, he needed to spend a little time taking it in.

Flying us low over the river, he had a clear view of the rain-soaked forests, the boulder-strewn ravines and the flower-studded meadows Ciera loved so much. I sensed how devastated he was that he hadn’t had time to show it all to me. The land meant almost as much to him as the other skyearls and the people.

The pattering of the rain and the creaking of crickets and birds would ordinarily have relaxed me. It was peaceful here. Away from all the fighting.

But Ciera and I found no peace. Small animals went about their business, oblivious to the tremendous battle that had just taken place. Ciera’s anguish wrenched my heart. I felt that I knew this land almost as well as he did. He had memories of places I had never even been to, yet I knew I would miss them sorely.

We circled and soared for an hour, observing the wilderness and trying to calm ourselves and each other. Tiaro sung Halduronlei to the two of us. Eventually I sensed that the last of the survivors from Tanza had made it to the border.

Flying up over a tumbled ravine of stones and shrubs, Ciera carried me up to the immense bowl lake of the Jarvi-Tanza waterfall. The falls thundered before us, churning the lake into a tumultuous pool. The river escaped the bounds of the lake over a pile of boulders that had been eroded away in the centre, forming several smaller waterfalls. As in Centan, the power of the water was astounding.

With a tremendous force of will, Ciera flew up over the falls and out of his homeland.

The brown fields of Ravra stretched before us, dismal in comparison to Tanza’s greenery.

Over the rocky gorges we flew. On and on past the line of walking refugees and the Ravran army that had come to escort them to safety. Behind the survivors came thousands of Zeikas, barely being held back by the skyearls who were our last line of defence. Ciera sailed in a large circle over the people, his flight-path intersecting with those of hundreds of other skyearls.

He flew back over the plains to the edge of Tanza where we could see the last of the survivors stepping off the Elonavé path and onto Ravran turf. Behind them on the shroud beneath the path were hundreds of defender footsoldiers holding back a tide of Zeikas.

As soon as the defenders had staggered back over the threshold of the cliffs and onto solid ground, the last of the skyearls turned in unison and fled Tanza.

To my delight, the pursuing Zeikas came up against the shimmering blue barrier and were not able to follow them into Ravra.

Taking one last look at the Elonavé path and shrouds, Ciera and the other shrouder skyearls combined their mental powers to tilt them sharply downwards. Those Zeikas standing on them, plummeted to their deaths hundreds of paces below. Slowly, like a fishing line being reeled in, the Elonavé path was pulled upwards into Ravra and reformed the rectangular structure I had seen before.

‘What happened with the barrier?’ I asked Ciera.

‘The effects of the barrier work from either side, that is all.’

My eyes widened. ‘The Zeikas may have taken our realm, but now they are trapped within it?’

He considered how much to explain to me. ‘It should hamper them for a time.’

‘This was part of Crystom’s evacuation plan all along,’ I marvelled.

‘Aye, it would seem so.’ Ciera’s head drooped. ‘The last battle of Tanza may be over, but the war is only beginning.’

Chapter Thirty-one—Exile

We continued to converse to keep our minds occupied as we made the three-hour flight north to the canyon-fortress of Sancran. The skyearls had agreed to form a relay team to fly as many people as possible across the final leg. The old, the infirm, the very young, and their carers were among the first to be transported.

Next went the military leaders and heads of households who could organise things at the other end.

When Ciera and I arrived, we were ushered in to a circular amphitheatre with no ceiling. Tyba’s wife, Clayr was standing with his mother, Queen Emyla, whose eyes looked red and puffy.

While she was in mourning Tyba had assumed the responsibility of leadership. He and a number of Ravran officials were laying out plans for how to feed and care for the Tanzan refugees until some more permanent accommodation could be constructed.

Tyba looked at his Sleffion-kin, whose body was inside the amphitheatre, but his wings outside. Realising I was here, the prince motioned for me to come over. Jett got up from his seat when he saw me and greeted me with a genuine hug of affection. I clapped him on the back.

‘Your eye,’ he said. ‘Is it painful?’

I shrugged. ‘A little.’

The burnt flesh around it was still moist to the touch.

‘Taeon…’ Tyba began, glancing at the Jarian belt around my waist. He was unable to hide his worry and hesitation from me. I realised, from Tyba’s thoughts, that Commander Saige had spoken publicly of my terrible deed in Condii Fortress. Before my arrival, he and the other Tanzans who had witnessed my attack on Corypha had condemned me in front of everyone present in the amphitheatre. Only Jett had sought to defend me. Now that I was here, Tyba was lost for words.

I reached out through the waves, trying to see what Tyba’s perspective was. While he could understand the need for some kind of punishment, he regretted being the one to mete it out. His genuine desire was to be able to overlook the incident as something that had happened, out of my control, in a time of war. But it was too late for that. The people would only see it as favouritism or compromise.

‘And now we must digress from these matters for a moment,’ he announced, gesturing for the Ravran officials to regain their seats. Commander Saige rose to his feet, glaring at me. Tyba’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

‘There has been an accusation, verified by witnesses, that one of our laws has been broken by a person of considerable power among the defenders,’ the commander stated without emotion. ‘Specialist Taeon of Jaria, you are accused of a vicious assault of A.S. Corypha who has now died of his wounds.’

I gasped. With all that had been going on I had not thought to find out how the Wavekeeper fared. Talk broke out across the room. The fifty or sixty people gathered there pressed closer to get a look at me.

‘Corypha was a traitor,’ someone called. ‘He and his skyearl, a renegade pair.’

‘It’s true,’ Commander Saige agreed. ‘Corypha was in prison awaiting a trial for the alleged traitorous acts that led to the deaths of dozens of Anzaii, but that doesn’t change the law. I was there. I saw what Taeon did to him.’

‘Then why didn’t you move to stop him?’ This was from Architect Furlorny in his ever-casual tone.

I stood rigidly, finding it difficult to discern the spoken words from the mental ones. With my thoughts churning, and the intrusions of others, it was difficult to recall anything from my time in the prison with Corypha. He had been going to attack me, but did anyone believe me?

‘He was in a rage.’

‘We tried to stop him.’

‘I ordered him to let go.’

‘—didn’t know he could partly shapeshift.’

‘It’s not our way.’

‘—brutally attacked Corypha.’

‘We have trials for prisoners for a reason.’

‘He was out of control.’

‘He had combat fatigue.’

‘I wish it didn’t have to be this way—I probably would have done the same.’

Searching around the room for this last comment, my eyes came to rest on Prince Tyba’s. Though he hadn’t spoken a word, I knew those last two thoughts had been his. From several paces away, he looked sadly into my eyes.

‘Do you wish to say anything, Taeon?’ he said.

‘I admit to the attack,’ I whispered. ‘But he had a sharpened stick, which the others may not have been able to see.’

‘You were holding him!’

‘He was holding me, too. He was going to—’

‘Through the bars?’

‘Aye.’

‘How do you know?’

I could sense the direction of his thoughts. I can sense all of you! ‘I could see it in his eyes. He wanted me to die. You all heard him call me a Zeika.’

‘Enough,’ said Commander Saige. ‘It sounds like there will have to be a trial. Until then he will have to be incarcerated.’

‘It could take half a year to settle the refugees enough to mount something as complex as a trial,’ Ciera said.

‘No,’ I squeaked, unable to find my voice. The rescue attempt for Sarlice could not wait that long.

Ciera raised his head as much as he could and spoke loudly across the courtyard, ‘I, too, admit Taeon’s violent act, however it was self-defence. I do not think the full severity of the law should be brought against him. It may seem heavy-handed, but Taeon wasn’t thinking straight after his battle with Bal Harar, and he was in fear for his life. He was grief-stricken over the capture of his friend, Sarlice, and the death of King Crystom. Corypha was in league with the Zeikas, whether he knew it or not. Let this not go to trial—’

‘Why should it not? Is a master psion above the law now?’ This from Saned.

‘What are you suggesting, Emperor?’ Commander Saige interrupted. ‘We cannot have blood-lusting bullies in the Tanzan army. He is your Sleffion-kin. You know the depth of his violent nature.’

‘Taeon would not attack for no reason,’ my skyearl contradicted him.

‘Then was it insanity I witnessed in the prisoner’s quarters?’ Saige demanded.

There was a shocked silence. My cheeks burned as I turned my eyes to Ciera to hear how he would react.

The great skyearl curved his head downwards and issued a small growl. ‘No, he is not insane. He has killed many hundreds of Zeikas and saved countless lives, including mine. His self-control slipped once, resulting in regrettable injuries to a prisoner who was about to attack him. If that amounts to insanity, then I must be insane too, to stand with him!’

Saige had his head in his hands as he conversed quietly with Prince Tyba. I reached towards my friend, trying to find out if Tyba understood my need to go after Sarlice.

‘Sire?’

‘Even if I do,’ he shot his thoughts at me, ‘shouldn’t I try to make you stay with us?’

‘No, please.’

‘If we call it manslaughter, because of the self-defence claim, the standard punishment is exile for one year,’ Tyba said. ‘Taeon and Ciera would not be allowed in Tanza or Ravra.’

My freedom to mount a rescue for Sarlice. Would I be able to do it on my own? Still lurking in the back of my mind was the need to gain assistance to free the Jarian slaves in Telby. That seemed like a slim hope now.

A series of arguments broke out. Strategist Saned was among those saying it should be classed as murder. He claimed I should be exiled forever and all my kin along with me. Commander Saige seemed to think we had more important things to deal with now, and I should be imprisoned to await a proper trial.

‘Corypha would have died if you hadn’t gone to him,’ Jaalta broadwaved, reading that from the thoughts of several commanders in the room. ‘He was still locked in his cell when Taeon found him. The fortress had been abandoned.’

It had not occurred to me that Corypha would have either starved to death or been captured by the Zeikas had I not gone to interrogate him. Ironic.

‘That doesn’t change what Taeon did—drove his claws into the prisoner’s neck,’ Strategist Saned prompted. ‘He must be stripped of his rank, imprisoned and await trial.’

‘It was self-defence.’

‘Everyone knew you hated Corphya. It was murder.’

Why is he so angry? ‘You knew him,’ I stated, but only Jett was listening to me. Was Saned a Wavekeeper too? When I reached towards Saned’s mind, I found it blocked by an impenetrable wall.

Jett, who had narrowed his eyes, gave me a small nod. At that moment I knew that, whatever happened, Jett would investigate Saned. A low growl burbled inside Ciera like a distant roll of thunder, as he stared suspiciously at Saned.

Tyba turned to Clayr who was stroking her pregnant belly, staring straight ahead in a worried trance. Queen Emyla paced around them in agitation, still grief-stricken, but trying to figure out what Crystom would have done in this situation.

If I was imprisoned, Ciera and Rekala would suffer for my misdeeds. Tiaro and Fyschs would become redundant—without any Zeikas to fight, they would both enter dormancy. Worst of all, Sarlice would be tortured, raped and probably perish.

Thinking of the gorgeous Lythian warrior brought tears to my eyes. I decided that if Saned’s punishment was chosen for me, I would have to escape. If Ciera defied his people to go with me, they’d probably call us a renegade pair, but at least we’d be free to rescue Sarlice.

‘You must not make me choose between Taeon and Tanza,’ Ciera lamented. I was about to reply when I realised he was speaking to Amadeus.

Queen Emyla, Commander Saige and Prince Tyba conversed for a few minutes. The queen came to a decision. A combination of relief and fear flooded through me.

‘What we have heard here today precludes the need for a trial,’ the queen began. She gestured at her son to continue.

‘Master Psion Taeon, we have found that your attack on Corypha was excessively violent and resulted in his death.’

To hear those words from my friend hurt more terribly than I could have imagined.

He continued, ‘An investigation into the mind of your Sleffion-kin, Emperor Ciera, confirms it was an act of self-defence, and that combat fatique played a role in your lack of self-control. You are hereby stripped of your rank and are no longer a specialist in the defender army.’

‘Thank you,’ I sent on the waves, fighting the panic and shame that rose within me.

‘You will be exiled for a season,’ Tyba announced.

‘So be it,’ Commander Saige agreed.

I started forward, shocked when the people hurried to clear a path for me. Strategist Saned had jumped back about three feet. Somebody clutched at him from behind, pulling him back away from me.

‘Goodbye,’ I said simply.

After taking one more look around at the faces of those I knew, I blurred down into my dark blue icetiger form, roared and swept from the room.

Chapter Thirty-two—Never Waver

Once outside, I ran from the building as fast as my tired legs could take me. Ciera chased after me, catching up somewhere in the middle of a cornfield. A feeling of elation came over me as I realised just how loyal he was to me. Ciera, the Emperor skyearl, had just been publicly discredited by my sentence. There was already talk about us being a renegade pair, yet he was ready and willing to leave the Tanzans and help me on my quest to free Sarlice.

‘At least he will still be Emperor upon his return, though,’ Tiaro said. ‘Whereas you will have to start from the bottom.’

‘I don’t think I will ever want to rejoin the defenders,’ I said.

Ciera turned to stare back in the direction we had come. Amadeus flew down out of the stormy, grey sky and landed beside him, Prince Tyba upon his back. The emperor skyearl exchanged a knowing look with his friend.

As he climbed down, Tyba seemed a little out of breath.

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Before you go there are some things I want to give you.’

‘My prince,’ I jibed, ‘you are conversing with an exile.’

He patted me on the shoulder, saying, ‘It’s only one season. You’ll be hale without us for that long.’

A smile crept slowly over my face. Tyba wasn’t one to let officialdom get in the way of our friendship.

‘You know I’m going to free Sarlice,’ I stated.

He smirked at me and pulled a flat, well-wrapped object from a satchel on his skyearl’s side.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘If anyone can, you can, but you’re going to need this.’

Before I’d even unwrapped it, my senses told me it was the Centan shield artefact. It had been set into a larger wooden shield and fortified with steel braces and edges. A sturdy metal handle was pegged through the back of the shield. After what had happened I wasn’t sure if I still deserved it.

‘This belongs to Tanza,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘An Anzaii in the defender army should carry it, like Jaalta or Riftweaver.’

‘Nay,’ he replied. ‘My mother said she always meant it for you.’

‘But it’s all you have of Tanza’s Ancient Sapphire Tree.’ I was shocked that he would still consider giving it to me.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And despite what some of the populace believe about you, you have Tanza’s support on your quest, and mine.’

The tears that swam in his eyes and the emotion that reached me through the waves were enough to make my voice choke up.

‘We will fight alongside each other again some day,’ Tyba said.

‘Now that the Zeikas are trapped in Tanza, we may not have to,’ I replied.

That brought a sad smile to his face. We both knew our troubles with Zeikas were not over yet.

He raised blue eyes to the sky above us. ‘The weather is against you. Please take these extra supplies and coin. They are my gift to you.’

As he spoke, Amadeus lifted down a pack from his own harness and fastened it to Ciera’s.

‘Thank you,’ I replied, humbled beyond belief that he would do this for me. He must have known ahead of time that something like this would happen. He had been prepared.

He embraced me as a brother and gave me a leg-up onto Ciera’s back.

‘Trees light your path,’ Tyba called.

Ciera hunched down and let out a tremendous belly-roar that echoed off the cliffs in the distance. His great wings lifted him off the ground and we spiralled upwards into the stormclouds. Amadeus tossed his head, sending reassuring thoughts through the waves towards us.

‘Farewell,’ I called openly through the waves.

A chorus of voices replied, from animals to skyearls to human beings: ‘Farewell Master Psion Taeon’, ‘Stay on course’, ‘Never waver’.

Above are chapters 25-end

Please purchase the print book or ebook from Amazon, and leave a

review to encourage me to keep writing.

Or go back to chapter 1

If you enjoyed it please rate and review this book at

Amazon.com/author/alikaibronach-epicfantasy

Find out more about the other 8 books at PsionSaga.com

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 imaginative 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.