02 Strike of the Skyearls - chapters 9-15

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

Chapters 9-15 (Buy book or go back to chapters 1-4)

Chapter Nine—Love and Ashes

From high in the blackness of the sky, a mass of dragons dropped to spread green fire over everybody and everything in Ruhor Lairs. Children screamed, adults shrieked in pain and terror as beasts plummeted to the ground in huge clouds of heat and ash. The engulfing green flames forced people to their knees, burning many to the bone, blinding and maiming others.

Ciera’s attention on the waves was drawn to one of the nesting areas where hundreds of skyearl whelps were being cut down by an overwhelming force of Zeikas on their tyraks. Through his waves I witnessed the colourful, fluffy bundles lying broken and red in the wake of the Reltic army, their wings burned to mere frames. The adult skyearls who were charged with protecting them also lay dead at the entrance to the whelping caves. One adult remained, but his life was soon snuffed out and with him went the vision.

The unknown skyearl’s death brought tears to my eyes, but these feelings paled in comparison to Ciera’s dismay at the deaths of the young ones. The waves weren’t done with us yet. Another Sleffion-kin somehow reached Ciera from Lander’s Bay, and he was too distraught to keep the visions from me.

An even larger force of Zeikas had burst through the barrier there, dripping red with the blood of Kriites. The beach was piled with human corpses: slaves and captives who had been sacrificed to nullify the barrier. Ships that had somehow made it through the treacherous reefs were anchored off the coast and Reltic tents lined the dunes.

Skyearls clashed with tyraks in a gargantuan struggle across the sands and among the temperate coastal forest. Humans and Rada-kin also fought against Zeika footsoldiers and their conjurations. Beasts of nightmare reared up, out of the ground, slashing their unnaturally long claws or beating the Tanzans back with inhuman strength. I cringed as I witnessed a Rada and his bear die in a funnel of green fire.

The nightmarish images came through the waves in spurts, ricocheting from one skyearl’s mind to the next and bouncing inexorably into the minds of their human kin. Tiaro helped me and Ciera to stem the tide of waves, but it was enough to take me off my feet. I gasped for breath.

As the images subsided, I was able to reach for Sarlice, who was lying face down on the ground beneath the dining table, crying soundlessly into the rich carpet. I pulled her up gently, my heart wrenched by the sight of tears streaming down her face. I wrapped my arms around her and she lay limply against my chest, sobbing. Through her own Sleffion-kin she had also witnessed some of the carnage.

Rekala and Kestric bounded to our sides, chuffing and nudging against us. Sarlice turned from me to bury her face in Kestric’s ruddy ruff. Rekala licked my hair in a desperate effort to offer me comfort.

Shocked by the violence and volume of the massacre, Sarlice, Kestric and Thita took some time to regain control. The violence at Ruhor Lairs, Lander’s Bay and Lokshole continued, but Ciera had regained control of his mind. With Tiaro’s help he held back the details from Rekala and me. I could sense his terrible grief and shock—he had expected an attack, but not one of this magnitude. A surge of protectiveness welled in me, first for Ciera, and then, with increasing passion, for the rest of the people of Tanza.

Ciera roared in anguish, shaking several candles from their perches above us. There was a flurry of movement in the chamber—flames on the carpet were quickly doused. I could hear Crystom shouting, but the volume of Ciera’s cry obscured his words. I could think only of Fyschs and the feel of Zeika flesh falling before me. Without thinking I drew the sword from its sheath. ‘Soon,’ I sent to him.

Rekala, Kestric and the other kin in sight leaped to their feet and stood rigid and snarling with hackles raised. Even Thita had become as tense as stone where he perched on Sarlice’s empty chair with his wings unfurled.

Sarlice wiped her face, smearing the makeup she had put on for this special occasion. I thought I glimpsed a snarl behind the back of her hand. I got the impression she was ready to fight, too, wishing she could transform and rush out to help. Ciera’s roar was like a battle call—reverberating into the waves like a tidal surge that rippled outward through skyearl minds across the nation.

‘Alight,’ Ciera shouted in the human tongue. ‘Away to the Dome of Gathering.’

We got to our feet, and, leaving our dishes and foodscraps behind, hurried out of the palace. Ciera flew off without me, knowing I wished to stay on the ground with the others. Crystom and Em were shouting commands to the dozens of warriors and serfs that materialised out of the palace. More bodyguards marched out of a building we passed before crossing the ornamental palace bridge. About a dozen guards flanked our party as we made our way through the streets of Tanza to the dome. The kin who marched beside us were tense and focused. I could feel Rekala’s body quivering with fury where she pressed against my side.

Ciera’s clarion call reverberated through the waves for a long time afterwards, with many still receiving it in distant parts of the realm minutes later. I knew this mostly from my connection to him, but if the lines had blurred, and I was starting to sense other skyearls on my own, I wouldn’t have known. I marvelled at his ability to send such a broad wave. Thousands of Sleffion-kin stopped what they were doing to answer the command of their emperor.

As we made our way to the dome, Fyschs remained in my hand, humming faintly through the waves, leafshards glowing. When we reached the dome I could see other Tolites with their weapon-kin out. We knew there was no immediate danger in Centan, but Ciera’s call had compelled us to draw our weapons.

Amid the royal party, I walked briskly into the Dome of Gathering; Tanzans with grave expressions parted to let us through. Ciera was on the dais, roaring in the skyearl language. His clarion call resounded through the city and through the waves, signifying the start of the war. There was a terrifying moment in which I could almost see the bodies of those who would die.

Three women and two men dressed in the garb of defenders carried maps and scrolls onto a large wooden table on the stage behind the Ancient Sapphire Tree. The king and queen climbed the short flight of stairs and helped lay out the maps. When Ciera’s deafening roars finally ceased, I climbed the stairs and moved to his side, placing one hand on his furred hind leg. Sarlice and her kin remained behind in the audience area.

‘It’s happening again,’ Ciera said woefully to me through the waves. Towering high above us he appeared mighty; surely when he joined the fight the Zeikas would be overcome. ‘So many of our people will die,’ he lamented, referring to all species. Ciera felt he had little power to stop such large-scale destruction. He could only be in one place at a time.

His anger and despair enveloped me—my heart thundered and sweat broke out on my brow. I swallowed and found myself breathing hard. Down on the ground beneath us, Sarlice held her head in her hands. Thita and Kestric were nearby, looking on in concern. Almost as soon as he had let his emotions out, Ciera recalled them back into himself, seeking calm. After a while, he bent his neck down and nuzzled Rekala and me.

‘As long as we have each other,’ he began, ‘there is hope.’

I looked up at him, instinctively moving closer to the warm furred body. I was starting to feel as small and helpless as those tiny whelps.

Beside us at the table of war, Crystom dipped a quill pen in red ink and scribbled on the closest map. The pen was so well used it had been stripped of the feather, leaving just a stick filled with ink. He held his hand to his head, listening through the waves as his Sleffion-kin transferred countless reports from skyearls across Tanza.

‘Lokshole has fallen,’ Ciera told me. ‘It had a population of over 9000 humans with 415 defenders. The Zeika Legion that arrived there had many thousands more.’

‘Just like that?’ I queried. ‘Lokshole is gone so quickly?’

He peered at me intently. ‘That is not all. A Zeika army of more than ten thousand has attacked our people at Lander’s Bay. Again, our defenders ares outnumbered and we haven’t seen an attack of this scale before.’

‘Are we going to help them?’

‘That is up to Em and Crystom.’

Crystom continued writing for some time. He handed the quill to somebody else and bent over what he had written. Em was right there beside him, holding one finger against her cheek.

‘If they’ve destroyed Lokshole, will they be coming here next?’

‘I don’t think so, Mother,’ Tyba replied. ‘They’ll work from the outside in, taking each town as they go. They will leave the heart for last—Hree and Centan.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Ciera agreed. ‘That way, they’ll have already weakened the defenders and established their own bases and supply lines in connection with the Upper World bases.’

Em nodded at her son’s suggestion.

‘If it goes that bad we will relocate the population of Centan to Condii, as planned,’ Crystom said. ‘They won’t expect that.’

The room gradually filled and more opinions were being added to the conversation by the minute. A dozen skyearls came to stand by the stage, indicating for bystanders to move away and keep out of the deliberations. I wondered at that, but then told myself that Tanza was a much larger realm than Jaria. The leaders needed some kind of distance between them and the emotional crowds or nothing would get done.

Soon the Dome of Gathering was full of people and more were crowded outside. A dull murmuring echoed throughout the dome. I stared at the Ancient Sapphire Tree of the Council of Water. Was it voices I was hearing or thoughts? Drawn in by pulsating leaves I stepped up to it and rested one hand against some low-hanging leaves.

A flash of insight burned my mind. Terror overlaid with panic. Joy overlaid with ecstasy. Pride overlaid with determination. I saw a moment in the life of a hundred people at once, not just what they were doing but their internal response to it.

Ciera threw his head back and made a strange snorting sound.

‘Taeon! Don’t.’

Crystom, Em and Tyba continued discussing their options, barely glancing at Ciera. A number of advisors pointed out things on the maps and held discussions of their own. Sarlice, who was watching from below, gave me a frown of concern and I moved back to Ciera’s hind leg, chastened.

The scale of this attack overwhelmed me. The population of Jaria Village, where I’d spent most of my life, was less than five hundred. The Tanzans were making decisions that would affect hundreds of thousands of beings. After a while it became too much.

Feeling I had little right to contribute, I withdrew to the back of the stage with Rekala and gestured for Sarlice and Kestric to join me. We waited there for a long time, solemnly observing the comings and goings.

‘Taeon, I’ve just received word the Sunbark Cities are expecting an attack,’ Ciera told me.

‘That’s the opposite side of the realm,’ I said. ‘What can we do to help them?’

He looked over the other side of the table of war. Tyba’s Sleffion-kin, Amadeus had drawn himself up to his full-height. Sitting up on his haunches, he was about half as tall as Ciera. Gradually those at the table quietened. Amadeus flexed his wings and the purple, copper and black feathers shimmered in the firelight and the light from the Ancient Sapphire Tree. The entire gathering waited to hear what the prince’s Sleffion-kin would say.

In a deep, booming voice he said, ‘It is agreed that Centan’s defender forces will be divided among the cities of Tanza under attack.’

A stir of anger rose, but most of the crowd waited to hear more.

‘We must prevent the Zeikas from gaining a foothold in our nation. We will also send a strike force of our most powerful Anzaii, Sleffion to Condii to prepare for a siege. It is our strongest town and is close enough to Ravra to afford us supplies or an escape route. We expect the Zeikas to converge there before coming to Centan, if they even get that far.’

Sarlice murmured her approval.

I licked my lips, wondering who would be in the strike force. It sounded like a flying group. Would Rekala have to stay behind if I went?

‘We should go,’ Ciera said to me. ‘Tyba and Amadeus need me to help lead the strike force. Will you join me, Taeon?’

I stared at him. ‘Am I ready for this?’

‘I believe you are,’ Ciera assured me. ‘But Rekala would have to stay behind.’

Rekala, who was pressed against my leg, lashed her tail in frustration.

‘Can we go?’ Sarlice asked Thita.

Overhearing this, Amadeus flapped his wings again. ‘We will need warriors who are not Anzaii to support those who are, but only those with the ability to ride aback their Sleffion-kin will be part of the strike force. Shrouding is too slow. You must fly swiftly to the aid of our brethren. Commanders, appoint your people and send them here in three hours, ready to depart tonight.’

The strike force was a flying squadron that had been formed several times in Tanza’s history, usually lead by Ciera. Being the oldest skyearl with strike force experience, he knew some of the best strategies for getting a flight group close to the enemy without making them vulnerable.

When an Anzaii invoked his or her powers, it almost always left their physical body unprotected. Anzaii had far more effect against Zeika magic than Sleffions, Tolites and Rada so the other warriors would be there to protect the Anzaii members of the strike force. If there were any master psions, like me, at a time of war, they were usually expected to join the strike force.

‘You’ll be surprised to see what a company of Anzaii can do,’ said an unknown voice in my head.

I whirled, looking around for the owner of the voice. Only a few Rada-kin were in the Dome and each of them were engaged in conversations with others.

‘Who are you?’

The owner of the voice was disappointed I couldn’t detect this for myself.

‘I am your Aunt Jaalta.’

A thin old lady in about four layers of green and white silk approached me. Her two protectors hung back, talking quietly. She raised one slim hand to her right shoulder and bowed her head. I returned the greeting, surprised when she hugged me. She looked up into my eyes, placed her hand on my cheek and smiled. I noted the messy scar across her throat. Sarlice, having missed the conversation, looked startled. I quickly introduced her to my mute, but telepathically gifted aunty.

We stood for a time absorbing each other’s presence in the waves, a new experience for me with another human being. Aunt Jaalta’s Anzaii-kin was named Galtoro and her Sleffion-kin was Reen. She had been in Tanza ever since my father wrote his letter to the people of Jaria. Coping with the injury to her throat had taken her thoughts far from Jaria.

‘I apologise for not contacting you,’ she said through the waves. ‘I have been absorbed in myself and in things here in Tanza.’

‘I get the feeling Tanza can be like that,’ I replied. ‘Are you going to be in the strike force?’

‘For certain. I am in the warriors guild already. They tend to choose warrior Anzaii over speakers for strike forces.’ I wondered if I was still considered a member of the harvesters guild. Did it even matter any more? ‘Galtoro, Reen and I have been part of it before,’ she continued.

‘And what about your Rada-kin?’ I asked, unable to sense it.

Jaalta shook her head. ‘Although I grew up in Jaria, I have no Rada-kin. I think I was always destined to come here.’

She lifted a thin silver chain from around her neck and showed us a glowing blue leafshard pendant.

‘This is Galtoro,’ she said, ‘my Anzaii-kin.’

Tiaro’s wave-senses came alert as she inspected the new being.

‘Greetings, Tiaro.’

‘I heard it speak,’ I exclaimed to Sarlice, who I felt was missing out. ‘I heard the pendant.’

Sarlice nodded, a slight frown creasing her brow.

‘Greetings to you as well, Taeon of Jaria,’ the necklace said to me. ‘My kin is greatly pleased to meet you here.’

I grinned at Jaalta. Sarlice was interested in the pendant, but had not realised what it was.

‘It’s her Anzaii-kin,’ I explained. ‘It is talking to Tiaro and me.’

Sarlice gave me a small smile, but then glanced back at the table of war.

‘What do you know about my mother and father?’ I asked Jaalta eagerly.

‘An aunty should never have to see the death of a beloved niece,’ she said, through the waves. Even though her emotions were masked, the sadness welled through. ‘Kerra was captured by a Zeika raiding party, while on a mission as one of Jaria’s Anzaii. They stole two dozen Jarians and their kin for experimentation that day. Mandus and I led a company of Jarian warriors after the Zeikas. More than two seasons, we pursued them, and there were many Jarians who abandoned the chase.

‘The Zeikas met up with another legion and over a hundred captives from Tanza. An Anzaii from Tanza made contact with us and an alliance was formed. Together, we and the Tanzans defeated the Zeika legions. We rushed through the camp, where there had been so much suffering. By the time we found your mother it was too late. Kerra had given birth to a baby boy and was dying from blood loss.’

Shock arced through me like a bolt of lightning.

‘By the Nine Trees!’ I exclaimed. ‘I truly have a brother.’ My father’s letter had mentioned a baby, but it was something else to hear about it from someone who was there.

‘A half brother, yes,’ said Jaalta. ‘If he’s still alive, he is half Reltic half Kriite and almost certainly a follower of the Zeika religion.’

‘A Zeika brother,’ I echoed out loud.

Sarlice looked confused so I quickly explained what Jaalta had told me.

My aunt continued. ‘The Zeikas fled with the child, a wet-nurse and a few other male children, leaving the girls behind. Mandus told Kerra he would protect her child, she passed away not knowing he had been taken. As far as I know, the child was never seen by him again.’

So that had been part of my father’s anxiety after he came back to Jaria.

‘It’s a shame he never told you or Ella,’ Tiaro commented. Only Ciera, Rekala and I could hear her, but Jaalta sensed my anger through the waves. I had a feeling she was hiding her own emotions. She laid a hand on my shoulder.

After a while I said, ‘Father hardly even spoke of it to Ella and me.’

Allowing my thoughts to flow, I shared a bit of my childhood with my aunt. She winced at the pain my father’s grief had caused my sister and me. When I told her about the letter and finding Tiaro, though, she smiled.

‘It is wonderful to see you again, after all these years.’ The tenderness in her thoughts was unmistakable. A virtue of wave communication was the raw honesty and understanding that could pass between us. Although I didn’t remember her from my childhood, I felt like I knew her well. Finding family in this place, after being so long alone, was strangely calming.

Ciera turned from the table of war to face us.

‘I’m glad to see you found Jaalta, Taeon,’ Ciera said to both of us through the waves. Because Jaalta had initiated the connection, Ciera was able to converse with her as well. ‘She can teach you far more than I about Anzaii ways.’

‘Truth be told there isn’t much to teach,’ Jaalta countered. ‘It’s something you must learn from doing. The most important thing to remember is to give your Anzaii-kin adequate time to attune to the Zeika magic you are facing.’

I nodded, knowing what I needed to do. Bessed had sent me down this path, leaving Jaria, confronting the bigger picture of what was happening to Kriites in the world. For now at least, my place was with Tanza.

I hated the idea of parting from Sarlice and Rekala, but perhaps they would be safer away from me. Although it frightened me, I knew the strike force was the best place for Ciera, Tiaro, Fyschs and me to be during the coming battles. It would give us an opportunity to grow together.

‘What about me?’ Rekala asked, with a loud yowl. She dropped low to the ground and her ears were back.

‘I’m sorry, Rekala,’ I crooned aloud. ‘I know it means we’ll be apart.’

Sarlice’s lips formed a tight line, but she made no comment.

‘I should be at your side, too,’ Rekala complained. ‘That is my place, especially during a battle.’

‘I know, dear one,’ I said, ‘but how can that be when I must fly with the skyearls?’

‘Maybe I can learn bird form…’ she said, but her wave voice trailed off as she faced the fact that she couldn’t.

‘You can understand why I need to do this?’ I asked.

‘I suppose so,’ she conceded. ‘But you are my Taeon, MY Taeon!’

She took my arm in her mouth as she said this, clenching her jaw muscles, but not closing her teeth. One paw reached around my calf, pulling me toward her and I staggered a little. I crouched down and grabbed her ruff with both hands, reaching my nails through the thick hair to scratch her. I hugged her and she pushed her nose against my chest, nearly toppling me.

I could sense Jaalta’s empathy and Ciera’s guilt. After a few minutes had passed, Rekala let me go and I got back to my feet.

‘I will go with you and the strike force,’ I said aloud.

Sarlice and Kestric looked almost as forlorn as Rekala.

‘There there, little one,’ Ciera said to my Rada-kin. ‘You will be needed as well. Along with Sarlice and Kestric, your place in this fight is also an important one. Just because we’re apart physically doesn’t mean we can’t support each other through the waves.’

Rekala hissed at Ciera, but there was no animosity behind it. She allowed the immense skyearl’s calming presence to flow into her being.

‘I am well-pleased with your decision, Sleffion,’ my skyearl declared. ‘My armour is stored in the room at the end of that hall.’ He gestured behind the dais down a blue-lit corridor. ‘It will need to be taken outside and made ready for me.’

Many different people had been given the honour of preparing Ciera’s armour over the centuries. It was a momentous occasion for his own Sleffion to be doing it.

‘Yes, Emperor,’ I replied with a bow.

Jaalta squeezed my hand, saying, ‘I, too, must see to my Sleffion-kin. Not much time to get ready for our departure.’

‘See you soon.’

When I turned back to Sarlice, she was looking dispiritedly at the ground.

‘Will you walk with me?’ I asked her softly. The Rada-kin sensed our desire to be alone together and stayed where they were.

Without looking up, Sarlice bobbed her head. Sensing her disappointment, I put one hand on her upper back as we walked down the hall. She glanced at me over her shoulder, but still said nothing.

We passed several rooms where people were gathering and packing supplies. At the very end was a red door painted with the silhouette of a skyearl in armour. It was dark inside. Sarlice borrowed a torch from one of the sconces in the hallway and lit three in the skyearl armour room.

I looked around in wonder at the beaten metal of all shapes and sizes from head and chest pieces to shoulder plates, claw sharpeners and tail spikes.

‘Must you join the Anzaii strike force?’ Sarlice asked me, ignoring the armour.

I nodded. Sarlice bowed her head. With such a small Sleffion-kin, she could not go with me.

‘You don’t have to go,’ she said. ‘You can use your abilities here.’

I turned to face her, suddenly aware of how alone we were back here—it was a relief to get away from the crowds. Sarlice had not spoken the words, but I had a strong feeling she was thinking, ‘What if I never see you again?’. Did our friendship mean that much to her?

‘Our place is by your side,’ she said.

‘It won’t be for long,’ I told her. ‘We’ll be fighting side by side again before you know it.’

The depth of my emotion made my voice tremble and I fought to keep it hidden. Sarlice smiled fondly but glanced away.

‘I want to be with you, wherever duty may send us,’ I said sincerely. ‘I will find you as soon as this mission is done.’

She raised her eyebrows and sighed.

‘I’ll come back here,’ I added, trying to be cheerful.

She looked away. ‘I don’t know that any of us will come back.’

‘Come along now; that’s not the Sarlice I know,’ I punched her playfully in the arm.

Outraged, she advanced on me. I backed away, a big, silly grin on my face.

In a playful, teasing voice I jibed, ‘The Sarlice I know never backs down from a fight.’

She jumped on me, grabbed my head in an armlock and wrestled me into a wooden beam.

‘You taught me the most important things I know about combat…’ I struggled to kick her legs out from behind.

She easily twisted out of my reach and threw a punch that I barely managed to duck under. I knocked over a stand of skyearl helms, which clattered across the floor. Embarrassed, but laughing, I ran at her. She easily sidestepped and elbowed down hard on my right shoulder, sending me sprawling to the dusty ground. She pinned me there with one arm twisted up behind my back. I could feel her muscular thigh through the dress she was wearing.

‘And what of Kestric and Rekala?’ Sarlice said, pulling my arm up even higher.

‘Ouch,’ I protested, but she didn’t let go.

‘They’ll have to stay with Thita and me,’ she added.

‘You should go back to Lantaid,’ I replied. ‘Close to the chasm…’ If things went badly for Tanza, I wanted my loved ones close to an escape route.

Having relaxed under her grip, I suddenly wrenched my arm free and rolled. Laughing at our antics, she resisted me. But I pushed her down with one arm across her collar-bone, sliding the other under her head to stop it from hitting the ground. My own elbow landed badly, shooting pain up my arm. I winced, but still managed to clench my knees against Sarlice’s sides, pinning her to the ground.

‘Perhaps all of you can go back through the shield into the chasm,’ I added breathlessly. ‘To escape.’

As I cradled her head, I forgot what I was saying about Rekala and Kestric. She lay still beneath me, breathing heavily. The scar on the top of her shoulder stood out white on the flushed skin there… just like my dream. I remember…

Sarlice made no reply. Her chest rose and fell beneath my arm. I was careful not to squash her, which she seemed to have noticed. Her skin was covered with a light sheen in the torchlight. Her lips, still bearing paint, were close to mine. And her eyes—those dark blue eyes like a forest pool at night—stared at me, pleasantly surprised… wanting?

I hesitated. My lips knew what they wanted to do, but my mind recalled another time and another place where I had lain like this with a woman. But I said ‘no’, didn’t I?

Sarlice turned her face away and resumed her struggles. I let her push me away and we rolled up to our feet, dusting ourselves off.

Sarlice nodded to herself and then admitted, ‘You know I just wish I could go with you.’

‘I know,’ I replied. ‘But no matter how good a shrouder Thita is, you could never keep up with a flight team.’

She scowled at me, knowing I spoke truth.

‘Couldn’t Ciera bear me?’

‘He could,’ I admitted, ‘but I don’t think it’s allowed. Every member of the Anzaii strike force must have a skyearl of mount size.’

‘You don’t really need a guide anymore anyway,’ Sarlice said. ‘No human alive could compare to Ciera.’

Behind us in the dome, the emperor skyearl stood up on his haunches and announced that he would lead the skyearls in the Anzaii strike force as was the tradition. Prince Tyba and Captain S.T. Dathan would lead the humans alongside him. Through my link with Ciera, I sensed a group of Tanzans follow him outside where he waited to be fitted with a battle-seat for me, several throwing spears more than twice my height and sacks of provisions.

Sarlice took me by the arm and led me toward the largest of the armour in the room.

‘Come,’ she said. ‘You are the emperor’s Sleffion. You must fit his armour and sharpen his claws.’

Including Ciera and me, the strike force consisted of 200 humans and 267 skyearls. Three dozen of the humans were Anzaii. The rest were Sleffion-Tolites or Sleffion-Rada. The non-Anzaii members were solely there to protect and provision the Anzaii. I was the only master psion and was treated with special respect, even though I was technically only a rookie in the army.

Ciera was already an influential member of the warriors guild, but I had to swear an oath for myself and on behalf of Rekala, Tiaro and Fyschs. The High Commander himself took my vows in the Dome of Gathering. Sarlice, Kestric and Thita were also sworn in as defenders, joining a regiment of one thousand humans: some with, some without kin.

Until now Thita had only been in the speakers guild, but he understood Sarlice’s stronger affiliation with warriors. Here in Tanza members of the warriors guild were referred to as defenders, which was considered a more palatable term; less violent than ‘warriors’.

There were 17 regiments in Centan alone and a total of 57,000 defenders across the nation. Nearly 2000 had died at Lokshole and Lander’s Bay already, but the civilian bloodbath that followed was unimaginable. Due to the small number of Anzaii, there was only one Anzaii strike force but, as Queen Emyla had told me, there were some Anzaii scattered throughout the regiments.

The strike force gathered in a roped off area outside the Dome of Gathering. Ciera and I were at the centre of the group, watching as the warriors checked their equipment and sharpened their weapons. Other Tanzans attached water botas and sacks of food to each skyearl’s saddle. Only food for the humans was required. The skyearls were feeding now on freshly cut saplings, wet rushes and piles of leaves. After this feed, they would not require food again for several days. Then it was simply a matter of finding some vegetation.

I had been introduced to most of the warriors and their skyearls. Their names were a jumble in my mind. I hoped I would learn to speak to other skyearls through the waves soon, if only to be able to remind myself what all their names were.

A breeze made the garden torches gutter and billow, stressing the banners that lined the causeway until I thought they would tear and fly away. The blue lanterns in the trees swung and creaked. A number of them had gone out, leaving sections of the garden in shadow. I shivered. It was well after midnight and my body had that aching fatigue that usually meant I needed a long sleep.

Rekala’s side was pressed against my legs and she circled me, panting and chuffing nervously. Her tail flicked against my chest and back each time she circled.

‘I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go,’ she said over and over.

I patted her forehead each time she came around and tried to send calm through the waves, knowing of no other way to reassure her. I didn’t like us being parted from each other any more than she did. Eventually she lay down on her stomach and wrapped one paw around my boot.

Sarlice entered the courtyard from the direction of the canals. She strode toward me, carrying my worn travel pack. She handed it to me and then threw a black leather and fleece coat over my shoulders. As I slid my arms into it, I realised it was probably more expensive than any garment I had ever owned.

‘Where did you get this from?’ I asked in amazement.

‘I bought it for you,’ she said simply.

‘You didn’t have to do that.’

She looked me in the eyes. ‘It’s the least I can do. This coat will keep you warm when you’re up in the sky.’

She fastened it down my chest with a dozen silver catches embossed with little skyearls. I watched the light glinting off her hair and wondered at the beating of my heart. Her hands against my chest were like wildfire.

Hesitantly, I reached out and touched her face with the backs of my fingers. She paused, closing her eyes. We were about the same height now. The noise and movement continued around us, but for all I cared, we might have been standing alone. The waves hushed around me; it was as if I’d drawn an invisible curtain down around the two of us.

‘I thought we had to conserve coin,’ I said.

She opened her eyes and gave me a small smile. ‘I traded most of those useless trinkets Minac gave us.’ She chuckled awkwardly.

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly, amazed that she hadn’t pulled away. ‘You joined the defenders. Do you think they will let you take the horses back with the Rada-kin to Lantaid?’ If only she could be safe, I thought.

Sarlice looked up. ‘I will be safe enough.’

My breath caught as I realised I had projected my thoughts into her mind. Were my Anzaii abilities growing that quickly? Or had we become so close that it was possible for me to connect with her in the waves? I looked deeply into her eyes realising she had opened her mind to me. Once I had initiated contact, she was able to sense me like she sensed her kin. Thoughts shuffled through my mind—some familiar, some foreign.

Sarlice continued to look into my eyes, mouth parted as if she was about to say something. Feelings of uncertainty and self-doubt clouded my mind. These patterns of thought were strange to me. Dozens of questions and issues came and went in the space of a few seconds.

I dared to pull her to me, pressing my cheek against hers and hugging her tightly. She did not resist. My eyes closed as I felt a rush of pure joy. This was right, more right than it had ever been with Lira. Sarlice’s arms encircled me, pulling our bodies closer. I wanted to stay there forever, I wanted to tell her how I felt, I wanted so many things. But Ciera’s roar rang out and the members of the strike force were mounting up.

Sarlice and Rekala clung to me, willing me to stay. I squeezed Sarlice tight, stroked her face and broke away. The curtain released and the buzz of the waves resumed. Rekala batted my leg with her paw so I crouched down and threw my arms around her.

‘Keep Sarlice safe,’ I implored her. ‘And I’ll see you again soon.’

‘Don’t go, don’t go!’ was all she could say. But I had to.

Skyearls took flight all around us.

Ciera’s roar boomed more loudly.

Agonisingly, Sarlice whispered, ‘Farewell, Taeon.’

She rested one hand on Rekala’s shoulder and Kestric was there attempting to console the two of them. My heart felt like it was tearing in two.

Ciera’s impatience barrelled into me through the waves. ‘I should be in the lead, Taeon.’

I hoisted my travel pack, waved and ran for my Sleffion-kin. Using the ladder that was built into his armour and battle-seat, I climbed up onto his back. Fumbling with the buckles, I strapped the pack behind me and fastened myself into the battle-seat. Ciera spread his magnificent wings and crouched low. I waved to Sarlice and Rekala one last time and caught my breath as Ciera burst upwards. Cold air rushed around me, chilling me despite the warmth of Sarlice’s gift.

Darkness closed in around us and the air brushed over us, threatening to smear us across the sky. Far below were the foamy white cascades of the River Jarvi and the last few settlements of Hree. Ciera and the other skyearls sped through the moonlit sky, hurried by the call of their fellows who were dying far away.

Chapter Ten—Condii

We flew for ten hours, landing every two or three for a break. Even the padding in Ciera’s enormous battle-seat was not enough to keep me comfortable for that length of time. I stretched and wriggled, trying to keep my feet and my behind awake. Sarlice’s face and the feel of her body against me was my mind’s constant companion. I wanted her, more than I had ever wanted anything. I blocked out both Ciera and Tiaro as I contemplated whether our relationship had changed. Had she simply been hugging me in friendship? In the end I gave up trying to figure it out and accepted the diversion of sleep, sagging in my harness.

When we finally reached the outskirts of Condii, I was dozing lightly with an unpleasant twinge in my back. The breeze warmed as we descended, waking me—I rubbed my eyes and opened them to the shining vista of early afternoon. Below us were the patterns of agriculture, dark green fitting into light green like pieces in a puzzle. The great, flat expanse of farmland was dotted with jutting karst towers, windswept limestone topped with sparse foliage. From up in the sky the karst towers seemed like game pieces on a gigantic game plate.

To the north, houses cluttered the foothills of a larger slope. They were almost all made of white and red bricks with black-tile roofs. Tyba and Amadeus wheeled west, using the promontories and low-lying clouds as cover. The rest of the team flew after them, sinking lower and following a tiny stream. Ciera had been here before, but even the memory of tasty saplings did not lighten his mood. He emitted a growl of anticipation as the strike force touched down.

Ciera’s wings beat the air, allowing his feet to make only a soft crunching sound as they landed on the dirt road near an old stone bridge. I staggered down from Ciera’s back and shook my legs. Across the other side of the stream was a small castle with many arches, pillars and balconies made of a mysterious, grey-blue substance.

‘Home of the Chief Architect,’ Tyba informed me. ‘The Zeikas have not been here yet.’

Ciera’s tail lashed, knocking over several trees. Some of the humans were startled, but nobody commented. The group fell silent. Beyond the sounds of feathered wings being shaken and bellies rumbling were the voices of jungle crickets and strange animal calls. Leaves rustled in a gentle breeze.

A group of skyearls, who hadn’t eaten their fill earlier, moved into the forest to graze. The rest assisted us to set up a large shelter and cookfire. Ciera took a dozen water sacks down to the river on his back and hauled them back full. It would have taken humans an hour to gather as much water.

‘Why aren’t we going into the city?’ I asked Tyba.

‘The Condiites told us to make our camp here on the north side of the city. The Zeika legions have, so far, only approached from the south to attack the town. It appears they are avoiding the River Jarvi. When the Condiites call us, we will fly to their aid, surprising the Zeikas.’

‘And what are we going to do?’

‘Tactical warfare,’ he replied, clasping me by the shoulder. ‘We will hide in the clouds above the battle, striking only at the right moment.

‘When enough Zeika conjurations are close to our position, the Anzaii in our group will dispel them. It is the task of the rest of the strike force to protect the Anzaii if our position is discovered.’

‘I have dispelled before,’ I sighed, ‘though I’m really not very sure of myself.’

‘You only need to be patient,’ Tiaro corrected me.

‘What about the people who are fighting right now?’ I began. ‘What are we going to do to help them?’

Ciera’s tail lashed again. A skyearl behind him ducked. ‘For now, we are expected to stand by as our comrades are slaughtered.’

I opened my mouth and closed it again.

Tyba’s shoulders sagged. ‘This plan was formulated two seasons ago, when the defenders contemplated the possibility of a large increase in Zeika ranks. The strike force is too valuable to throw at the main Zeika army. It must be deployed carefully and strategically.’

‘So you knew that Reltland’s army was growing?’

‘It was inevitable,’ he replied. ‘You see, because initiated Zeikas do not age, their army continually swells. It becomes more cumbersome and more costly, but also more powerful. For each year that passes dozens of Zeika sorcerers progress in rank. Zeikas become ‘Conjurers’ at the fourth rank, which is apparently a difficult achievement. We had hoped Bal Harar was no longer interested in seizing Tanza, that he had gained the land he needed for crops and industry in Watercrag.’

‘It is genocide,’ Ciera said, ‘against all Kriites.’

I rested my forehead in my hands and rubbed my temples. I looked up when Tyba patted me on the shoulder. A man had approached through the strike force who I hadn’t seen before.

‘This is Chief Architect Furlorny,’ Tyba said.

‘My prince,’ Furlorny said, with a dip of his head.

‘Furlorny, I’d like you to meet Master Psion Taeon.’

‘Trees! You’re young,’ Furlorny observed.

I didn’t know what to say to that so I held my tongue. Furlorny led Tyba away to discuss tactics with some others nearby, but I was too distracted to join in. Ciera’s mind was abuzz with conversation. I could ‘hear’ only his words, but the meaning behind all that was said to him by other Sleffion was clear. A few miles away there was a pitched battle. More Tanzans were dying by the minute, yet we could not strike too soon or all could be lost. After a ten hour flight, there was strength to be regained by skyearls and people alike. A young man tapped me on the shoulder from behind.

‘Master Psion,’ he said, ‘we all need to eat and then rest for a bit. Here.’

The young man handed me a deep trencher of gromvi stew and a platter of smoky boiled vegetables and cheese. I accepted the food gratefully and sat down on the ground, leaning against a treestump.

Another strike force member served food to the prince. I was relieved that we would have this opportunity to recover, but, at the same time, Ciera’s guilt washed into mine and I grieved for the unknown people who were dying for this land. Tyba gestured for a barrel to be brought over for him to sit on and he ate ravenously.

As I was eating I watched the young man who had served me. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t eaten anything himself yet. Instead, he was busy sweeping out the newly erected pavilion where we would all sleep. He unpacked blankets and ground mats from the vast stores that had been carried by Ciera, Amadeus and the other large skyearls in the strike force. He poured oil into clay lanterns and lit them. A few others tended a fire nearby, cooking more stew for the company. I could almost feel their hunger burning through the waves.

‘That’s Jett,’ Ciera told me. ‘He grew up near here in Q’Villa with the quarry workers. He’s part of the harvesters guild. It’s hard work down there.’

Eventually the boy joined me, bringing a second helping for me as well as a far-less-heaped plate for himself. His Rada-kin, a viperjay named Naltoch, landed on his shoulder and Jett fed the bird a scrap of meat. I fought to keep my distaste for the creature hidden.

‘You are welcome to call me Taeon. What’s your name?’ I asked him even though I already knew.

He wiped his hands on his leggings and then presented me with the traditional Tanzan greeting. I offered him my hand and showed him how people in the Upper World shook hands when they were introduced.

‘Sorry, Master Psion, sir,’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘I’m Jett. We just assume you know who we are…’ He lowered his voice. ‘There are some Anzaii in the group who can converse with other people’s kin. And if their own or others’ kin don’t tell them what they need to know, there are some who can speak to other people, too!’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Well I am only newly declared a master psion. I still have a lot to learn about being Anzaii, Sleffion and Tolite.’

He bobbed his head and swallowed a spoonful of onions and potatoes. He pointed across the camp to where Jaalta was resting on a pile of blankets against a rock. The flight here must have been hard for her.

‘A.S. Jaalta is one of the best Anzaii,’ he told me. ‘She has two guardians, Amril and Sanka, who are both S.T.s.’

Jaalta was now dressed in dark blue robes with her grey hair pinned neatly out of the way. I thought to myself that it was admirable for someone her age to be part of the strike force. I hoped that we would both live through this and find out more about my mother’s half-Zeika child. Amril and Sanka hovered near my aunt discussing how best to protect the talented Anzaii.

‘How is this going to work?’ I asked Tyba suddenly. ‘Does each Anzaii have guardians?’

Tyba wiped his mouth daintily. ‘Yes, in a way. But you and I will fly together—with eight guardians. Ensign Jett here is one of them; he’s your personal aide as well.’

Jett grinned at me and continued chewing his food.

I started to question the need for such protection, but the prince raised his hand.

‘Ciera and I are leading this operation, Taeon. Without us, the strike force would be in trouble.’

I nodded, but inwardly I wondered if there were others trained and ready to take our places should any of us fall.

‘Maybe there’s no other skyearl who can maintain a shroud as well as Ciera,’ Tiaro suggested. ‘Without the most stable and reliable platform from which to launch each attack, our dispelling efforts would be inconsequential. Not many Anzaii can use their minds to dispel if their bodies are under physical attack.’

‘True, Anzaii-kin,’ I conceded.

I finished eating my bread trencher and offered the rest of my meal to Jett.

He stared at me wide-eyed. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course,’ I replied.

He accepted the food with such a look of gratitude I nearly choked.

‘Didn’t you know that several barrels of foodstuffs went bad already?’ he asked.

I raised my eyebrow and shook my head slowly.

‘Some kind of red waxy mildew was found in some of the vegetables,’ he explained. ‘There’re not many vegetables left. Are you sure you don’t want this?’

‘I’m fine,’ I replied.

Some raised voices caught my attention. Not far from the men’s bathing area a group of six or seven Anzaii were arguing fiercely with one of the guardians. Other guardians watched from nearby, apparently staying out of it.

‘That would be murder!’ one of the Anzaii shouted. ‘For me to take that concoction would mean death for my Anzaii-kin as well.’

The guardian, whose name was Corypha, chewed his lower lip. ‘I can see your point Aerilaya, but don’t you think it’s a better fate for it than watching helplessly as you are captured and waveraded, then used as a tool against your own people?’

I frowned at the group, trying to hear more clearly. Jett mistook my expression for confusion.

Jett spoke through mouthfuls of food. ‘“Waveraded” means “violated”. The Zeikas can do that; or so we keep hearing. Someone in the Sunbark Cities uncovered a plot of theirs to “secure several Anzaii for studying wave interception”. Their witches have learned how to hold captive an Anzaii within their own mind, using their abilities to do something with our wave communications.’

‘The queen mentioned it during the one meal Sarlice and I shared with the royal family,’ I replied. ‘It would be yet another way for the Zeikas to spy on us.’

Jett nodded. ‘Aye. There are those who think it could become more than just spying though.’

‘The Wavekeepers?’ I asked.

‘Yes. They think a captured Anzaii could be used to actually locate or interfere with Rada-kin, Sleffion-kin or Tolite-kin. They are afraid that if the Zeikas find one powerful enough, they will use her or his abilities to locate humans as well. It could be anyone they wanted to find, but especially Kriites, so the Zeikas could hunt down and kill them.’

I shivered, thinking over the ways in which my telepathic abilities seemed to be expanding. Had I been a target back in Tez for that very reason? Did the Zeikas know something of my future?

‘That would be terrible beyond imagining,’ I agreed. ‘But what can we do about it?’

‘The Wavekeepers seem to think you should all be killed. They think Anzaii abilities are not really a blessing from the Nine Trees, but a mistake…’

‘How can plants make a mistake?’ Tiaro interjected into my thoughts.

‘How can an earring ask a question,’ I shot back.

‘…rather it is the demon lord’s way of increasing a Sleffion, Rada or Tolite’s power to give them a false sense of security, with the ultimate aim of usurping that power for the destruction of Kriites.’

‘I’ve seen a Wavekeeper murder someone,’ I blurted.

Jett licked his lips. ‘They are surely mad.’

‘Surely mad,’ squarked Naltoch.

‘I’m glad you think that,’ I replied. ‘I haven’t yet proven myself an effective member of the defenders, but I believe Tiaro and I will be able to make a difference.’

‘Ah but do you know how to close off your access to the waves, Taeon?’ Colonel Berodukanis, one of the highest ranking Anzaii in the strike force, had approached us from behind.

Jett downed the last of the vegetables I had given him and said sarcastically, ‘We were just discussing the “solution” the Wavekeepers have for the threat of waverading.’

Bero rubbed the whiskers on his chin, which were shaped into a ‘V’.

‘There have been other, less extreme, suggestions,’ he said. ‘Corypha, our guard over there advocates that all Anzaii should carry with them a packet of viserill, life-quenching herbs. If they are captured and a waverade artefact created, they consume the viserill and within hours they are dead.’

‘Preposterous,’ I snorted. ‘Where I come from suicide is not an option. We must fight to the death.’

‘No matter what the cost?’ Bero pondered.

‘There is always another way,’ I replied.

‘It is difficult to equate the risk to other Kriites with one’s own life and that of your Anzaii- and Tolite-kin,’ Bero agreed. ‘But in certain circumstances, you might like to have the choice. The same could be said for any of our high-ranking officers. Successful interrogation could lead to the deaths of many thousands of our people.’

‘Well I want nothing to do with this viserill,’ I replied, standing up.

Corypha, who heard my outburst from several feet away scowled at me.

‘Much of this is new to you,’ Bero said, also standing. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand why we do many of the things we do. In fact I’ve been told you haven’t had much experience even at dispelling.’

‘No, not really,’ I mumbled.

‘You’ll soon get a chance to learn,’ Bero said before he walked away.

I stood outside the pavilion for a while, taking in the night air. I could sense Ciera sleeping restlessly nearby. Amadeus stood with his head bowed and his wings folded tightly around his body. His claws had extended deep into the ground, crushing grass and roots. Tyba rested his forehead against his Sleffion-kin. Sorrow billowed from the skyearl, not just in his body language, but also in the waves. It was a small step forward for me—to know that I could sense the emotions of a skyearl other than my own Sleffion-kin—but it was a bitter-sweet accomplishment, which, at that moment, I did not feel like sharing with anyone.

‘I know it’s hard,’ Tyba whispered to Amadeus, ‘but we must wait.’

The prince stroked the great skyearl’s furred forehead and slowly turned away. He rubbed his hand through his hair and stopped in front of me.

‘Tomorrow will be challenging,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect you to give up your life for this. You are a new master psion… there are others who would die in your place.’

I stared at him with a look of horror.

‘We are going to need you, Taeon. Even if you cannot do much with your Anzaii gift yet, your kin will work through you. We will need you, and all Anzaii, for the duration of this war. Your lives must be protected. Don’t forget that.’

I nodded grimly. I did not have the energy to argue with him. And what was the point? When the battle came, most of our expectations and careful planning would be overturned with immediate problems. And Tyba had little reason to fear for me—I would ride aback none other than the emperor skyearl!

Chapter Eleven—Bird’s Eye View

Ciera woke me early in the morning with a gentle, but insistent tapping in my mind. I sensed him standing by the river, muzzle glistening with water. His belly was so full of it that his body felt heavy and saturated. It was damp and grey outside and the sweat inside my leggings made me shiver. The smoke from our cookfire rose into the mist, creating a dense haze. Several men and women were standing about the fire sipping mugs of tea and talking quietly. A couple emerged from the pavilion, embraced and then moved in opposite directions to bathe and prepare themselves for battle. I thought painfully of Sarlice.

‘I have convinced Tyba and Amadeus that one skyearl is harder to spot than nine,’ Ciera said. ‘You and I will fly out unguarded to set the shrouds.’

‘What are you setting shrouds for?’

‘For the strike force to ride upon. We’ll be masked from view until a tyrak passes close enough to see through the mist.’

‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Zeikas hate the wet.’

‘It is one of the many uses of shrouding we’ve employed over the decades,’ Ciera said, subtly reminding me he’d been fighting Zeikas for longer than I’d been alive. ‘Though during war Zeikas are willing to put up with certain discomforts.’

I stretched my arms up in the air and tried to breathe deeply. My back stung in several places, but as I limbered my arms and legs and continued to stretch, a pleasant warmth came into my muscles. I performed the exercises my leaders at Jaria had taught me and I threw in a few others I had learned from Sarlice. I pictured her alongside me, stretching and straining, smiling at me all the while.

Although I missed her, I was glad she wasn’t here. A small part of me hoped she would ride for Lantaid with the Rada-kin and keep her head down. Whether Tanza won this war or not, the casualties would surely be high. The further they all were from the fighting, the better. But I knew Sarlice would not run like that—and I could never ask her to either. By most predictions there would be fighting in Lantaid eventually—maybe even in Centan itself—and Sarlice would be right in the thick of it, among her new defender comrades.

When I was finished stretching I hauled a bucket of hot water to the men’s bathing tent and scrubbed myself clean. At Jett’s insistence I even spared the time for him to clean and cut my hair and shave my face. I dressed in multiple layers of clothing, including a chainmail vest and a black glass chest-plate. The king had given his best Watercrag armour to the strike force, including dozens of expensive cloaks of dampening. They were made of blue-dyed flax treated with fire-retardant sap. I gritted my teeth as Jett fastened mine on. It didn’t seem right for me to have one and not Jett.

There were also black helms for the 36 Anzaii, which were made of black boiled leather covered in black and blue scales, horns, teeth and claws. They covered only the top of the head, leaving the face uncovered. A scarf of the blue-dyed flax protected my neck. It had chainlinks and rows of tiny interlinked scales on one side and was lined with wool on the other. There were matching gloves of dampening: silver wrist-guards with verses from Tanzan poetry inscribed on them.

A pair of skyearl-claw shoulder spikes were my next challenge. I had never worn shoulder-armour before and some of the spikes were ten inches long. I took off the black iron chest-plate and fastened the leather straps and buckle of the shoulder spikes over the chainmail vest. It was difficult to get the straps of the chest plate back on over the top of the spikes. A pair of iron legguards went over my underclothes without hindering movement.

I hid the marble-hilted dagger in my left boot and strapped the Jarian belt and Fyschs at my side. Finally, after fastening Tiaro to my left earlobe, I jogged to meet Ciera. As I made my way through the forest, the familiar sounds of birds and small amphibians reminded me of home. It amazed me that a simple hunter, used to solitary rambles into Jarian forests had been accepted into an elite strike force in a realm of 1.3 million people. With such fine armour on, I hardly knew myself.

I found Ciera meditating just in front of the bridge where we had landed yesterday afternoon. The sight of such an immense creature resting was awe-inspiring. He sensed me coming and opened one eye to wink.

‘You’re calm today,’ I commented, remember his frustration at having to hold back yesterday.

‘I am compensating for my weakness,’ he replied.

‘It isn’t weak to want to save the lives of your people,’ I counselled him.

‘Yet there is wisdom in taking time to gather ourselves for a proper assault,’ he said. ‘I don’t disagree with Tyba’s strategy.’

‘What’s worse, losing members of the strike force prematurely due to lack of rest or losing dozens more Condiites you might have helped keep alive?’

He arched his eyebrow, acknowledging my rhetorical question. Then he said, ‘We have a saying here in Tanza: “When you find
yourself between a rock and a hard wall, fly”.’

He continued to hum a soft tune as I threw ropes over his body and used them to haul the battle-seat onto his back. It took some time to strap everything down. The buckles were so enormous that it took all my strength just to get the metal prongs to go into the holes. Ciera waited patiently, but when I was finished, he walked over to Amadeus and got the smaller skyearl to pull all the straps much tighter. He stood on all fours looking at me with a gentle smirk.

‘Time to fly,’ he said.

I climbed onto his back, strapped my own legs into the battle-seat and tried to make myself comfortable.

‘Ready,’ I said through the waves.

Ciera leapt upwards with his hind legs and spread his wings. Smoke and mist whirled beneath us as a shroud-made wind gave the enormous skyearl lift. He roared through the waves, letting all of the strike force know we were on our way. Ciera was adept at broadwaving to large numbers of skyearls and now that he was bonded to an Anzaii, his communication abilities had expanded even further.

Amadeus waved with one clawed hand. Ciera shot up and the dawn rays caught us in a burst of warmth and radiance. I lifted both hands in the air and revelled in the freedom of flight.

Ciera flew higher and higher. I belatedly wished I had worn the coat from Sarlice underneath the chainmail and flax cloak. Ciera’s breathing laboured and a great fog came from his mouth in the cold air. The same fog was coming from my mouth too. I wondered if shrouding was the same as breathing this out on a cold night.

‘It’s similar,’ Ciera replied through the waves.

The rushing air would have made it difficult for me to hear him out loud.

Ciera had flown so high that we were above several layers of cloud. We could not see any land below, but my Sleffion-kin knew exactly where he was going. Soon, I became aware of another presence in the waves. As the rays from the morning sun danced with the clouds around us, a hovering shape came into view ahead. A golden skyearl waited for us, marking a safe place for the shroud to be created.

We came to hover in front of them, which was very difficult for Ciera with his belly full of water.

‘Greetings Emperor,’ the skyearl call in a female voice.

On her back was a person of indeterminate gender of about seventeen. They were dressed in black armour like mine and sported the same black cloak and helm. It was heartening to think there would be other Anzaii to help the strike force. The youth bowed their head to me.

‘Master Psion,’ they intoned. ‘My name is Riftweaver and this is Rawn. It is an honour to meet you.’

A glimpse of the golden skyearl’s perceptions told me how magnificent Ciera and I appeared. The shining blue, purple and green fur of the emperor’s hide was dazzling in the dawn light. The young rider on his back was formidable, bearing a blue sword, wearing Anzaii armour. It was dizzying to see myself from another’s point of view. Through Rawn I had a brief window into the world of a non-binary person. Riftweaver had chosen this new name for themself years ago and was comfortable in their own skin, which was medium brown, like mine. Rawn sensed my accidental intrusion.

‘I apologise,’ I said aloud so that Riftweaver could also hear me. ‘My wave-speech to Sleffions other than Ciera is newly acquired.’

Rawn blinked. ‘It comes to you surprisingly young,’ she said. ‘Many humans work for decades trying to learn the skill and even then it is only possible with skyearls they already know and trust.’

‘Myself included,’ Riftweaver added in a gentle voice.

‘How fares the battle?’ I asked.

‘We are holding our own for now,’ Riftweaver replied. ‘It will take more than a few thousand Zeikas to breach our perimeters.’

The fact that Condii’s leaders could spare Riftweaver for this task encouraged me.

‘There are many tasks to be carried out in a war,’ Ciera said. ‘While footsoldiers and Rada-kin march out to battle and skyearls patrol the skies, there are people going about their normal lives in Condii City. Back in the city proper, merchants are still peddling their wares, blacksmiths are hammering armour, street cleaners continue their work and water sprogs empty the slop buckets of those who can afford them.’

‘In other words, there is still time to defend the city,’ I replied.
‘You have to forgive my small-mindedness, Ciera. I come from a village of only a few hundred.’

‘The strike force will soon be there to assist you,’ Ciera said.

Riftweaver nodded. No more words were required. Rawn flew away a fair distance and turned to watch. Ciera glanced back at me once and then focused his mind on the task. He drew in deep breaths of air. I felt the gathering of his will then Ciera swept downwards through the first layer of clouds.

He blew out steam as he went, venting great gusts of white cloud. The shroud formed slowly behind us as he circled and soared. His body strained with the effort and I could feel a burning pain in his throat and stomach. The water he had spent hours swallowing earlier this morning was being released as vapour.

We flew on for what seemed like hours. Eventually Riftweaver and Rawn flapped away.

‘Until we meet again,’ the skyearl sent to Ciera.

The shroud behind and beneath us gathered into a tight mass, but on the edges it stayed wispy and vaporous. Ciera had formed a second level of mist about one hundred feet above the main shroud, shielding it from eyes above. Ciera’s shroud was easily the size of the strike force camp. When it was finished, he reached out his feet and collapsed onto the spongy, white surface in the centre. He rested there for some time, breathing heavily. Water dripped from his open mouth.

I stepped down from his back, thrilled with the swooping ride I had just enjoyed. The flight from Centan had not been nearly so interesting.

‘Flying is magnificent!’ I declared.

I tried to touch Ciera’s mind with my excitement, but he was unreachable. He must be asleep—after such exertion it wasn’t suprising.

I wandered around on the platform, trying to get close enough to the edge so I could see below. It was difficult with the amount of mist around the edges. Every now and then, the breeze would lift the veil and a spectacular view came into sight. We seemed to be even higher than when the strike force had flown here.

During the mission to come, Ciera would make the shroud move much closer to the ground. Right now, with the sun shining down around the edges of the cloud above and a fervent breeze lifting my hair, I could hardly imagine having a pitched battle on this dreamlike cloud.

I rested for a while and fossicked in Ciera’s pack a few times for food and water. As the day wore on the breeze became a buffeting force. With little else to do I soon became bored. Ciera seemed to be even further away from me now. If he dreamed, it was well out of my reach. I dried the drooling water from his lower jaw and stood beside him.

‘Master Psion, are you safe?’ Naltoch, Jett’s Rada-kin, touched my mind from far away. ‘The other Sleffion have noticed Ciera’s withdrawal from the waves and the prince is concerned for your safety’

I reached back to the viperjay. ‘He seems fine—just sleeping.’

‘I suppose that is to be expected after creating a mobile shroud,’ Naltoch said. I could almost hear the upturned pitch of a viperjay squawk in his sending. ‘It isn’t done very often.’

Now that I had my attention focused on the rest of the strike force, I could sense a jumble of conversation between kin. The words and feelings slipped and slid like dust motes in the air in front of me. I could tell they were there, but I couldn’t catch them. Several of the Rada-kin sensed my awareness of them and turned their thoughts to Tiaro and me. A wave of vertigo washed over me. I sat down hard on the surface of the cloud. Ciera’s shadow protected me from the late morning sun’s glare.

‘Master Psion Taeon,’ came the gentle, rumbling wave of an arctodus, or giant bear, named Kotor, ‘The strike force continues to prepare for battle. Prince Tyba has requested that we convey to you the information you will need.’

‘Very well,’ I responded. ‘I will do my best to commit it to memory.’

‘I will help you,’ Tiaro added.

Kotor and Naltoch’s presence in the waves became more pronounced and I sensed that the viperjay had landed on Kotor’s back. The physical touch heightened their ability to share senses and thoughts. The contrast between the two beings became more obvious at the same time as their thoughts aligned to deliver the information to me as coherently as possible. I received an image in my mind, at once close and far away. I tried to clear my thoughts and simply observe what they sent me, but it was hard not to feel the bear’s ceaseless, niggling hunger and the viperjay’s nervous restlessness.

When I thought about their differing perspectives, the image began to make sense. From the one came an intimate knowledge of terrain; humps and hollows, rocks, ravines, rivers and trees, then buildings, towers and roads. From the other came a vision much like a map, but instead of being hand-drawn and made up of symbols, it was like looking straight down on the landscape from Ciera’s back, with no clouds hindering the view. The rivers and ravines I’d seen from Kotor’s point of view suddenly fitted together as a majestic whole, a network of watercourses both dry and running. Trees dotted the landscape and dissipated gradually at the foot of an unnatural mound.

At the top of the enormous motte were the city walls of Condii. Tiny drain-pipes emerged from a few spots around the motte depositing a slow trickle of city waste. The grass was greener there, but few people went near the dirty water.

Small details followed so that when I thought of Condii, I knew the best places to perch and preen, the places to find puddles after rain, how to pinch bread-dough from the bakehouse and quiet places under the rafters of the donjon and surrounding buildings in the bailey. I knew intimately the very fibres that made up the walls and rooves, the wells and bridges; even the smell of the red and black paint on the marketplace buildings and fence posts.

I bathed in my new-found knowledge. The amazing, but baffling, vision of a great many trees and rocks far beneath Ciera’s massive body started to make sense. The bent tree I had seen was a landmark and a scentmark. The little hollow with the patches of black bushes was a place to shelter and roll in herbs. The forest of yellow-barked trees was a snacking spot for skyearls. And I gradually found that I knew this place, knew it like I knew only the forests around Jaria. It was an inspiring sensation.

‘It’s called imprinting,’ Naltoch told me. ‘And it’s not unlike the learning that takes place when a young creature first imprints on its parent.’

I felt stuffed with new and unexplored knowledge, even though the imprinted map only extended a short distance around Condii.

‘And that is not all we need to convey to you,’ Kotor said gravely. ‘There are a few routes and rallying points you need to memorise before we join the battle.’

The unlikely pair combined once more to draw my attention to their dual vision of the terrain, one from the ground and one from the sky. By the time they were finished, I was certain I could easily navigate my way into and throughout the city and that I knew every good hiding place in the forest nearby. I also had a rough idea of where we would regroup if things went bad, where each of the Condiite armies were based and where to find food, water and medical supplies, among other things.

I spent the rest of the morning mulling over these things and trying to remember the best military tactics I’d learned over the years. I appreciated the collection of scrolls that used to be in my house in Jaria, before it was destroyed. I consoled myself that I had read them all at least twice.

There were other castles and garrisons throughout Tanza, from which a counter-attack could be launched to help Condii but, from all reports, the Zeikas had simultaneously assaulted the major outlying cities and so it would be wise for each castle and garrison to defend its closest major city only.

For the Zeikas to divide their own offensive armies like that could mean only one thing; they had far superior numbers to our own. I had never heard of such a force and knew I wouldn’t be able to come to terms with it until I saw them with my own eyes.

Chapter Twelve—Battle Plans

Ciera eventually stirred and his urgent need for food and water dominated my mind. He felt hollow and dry inside and a stinging weakness was spreading through his body. If we didn’t fly to land soon, we wouldn’t be able to. The great skyearl’s fur and feathers glistened with dew and it was slippery climbing on. Although my eyes had mostly adjusted to the brightness of the day, I was blinded by light as we launched off his newest shroud. The clouds beneath us seemed to glow with their own brilliant light.

Looking back, I saw the shroud following us lazily. Ciera swung backwards and forwards to slow his passage through the sky. The shroud moved slowly over a layer of creamy cumulous below us, protecting us from eyes below. Even if the Zeikas were scouting with their dragons, it was unlikely they would fly as high as we were, especially in exactly the right place to be able to see us. But Ciera wasn’t taking any chances.

Ciera’s shroud stopped following us when he felt it was safe to fly on without it. After that he shot through the air like an arrow. In very little time, he was landing near the strike force camp so he could feed on the lush vegetation. The smell of hunger and thirst was all around him. The silver in his saliva had gone thin.

‘You go on,’ he said aloud. ‘There will be more strategies and plans for you to discuss.’

‘What about you?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘It is more important that I regain my strength for the coming battle. Besides, you are my Sleffion; it is your role to speak for both of us when I am absent and convey information to me.’

I wondered if my memory would be as reliable as he expected. It already felt like it was about to burst; my head still ached dully. Leaving him to his tree-felling, I padded back to the camp. A tall stranger with iron-grey hair in a shaggy ponytail was talking to A.S.T. Bero and A.S. Rialb. Tyba was engrossed in studying a map on a large tree-trunk table.

I removed my armour, except for the legguards, and sat next to Aunt Jaalta on a large wooden log in front of the main camp fire. She was stirring herb-scented tea in an iron jug. She winked at me as I sat down, offering me a tankard.

Some of the guardians were sparring in a stone-marked ring nearby. At least fifteen others stood around honing weapons, talking, eating or drinking.

‘Jaalta,’ I began, ‘When an Anzaii dispels a conjured beast, what’s to stop the Zeika from just conjuring another one?’

Jaalta sighed and shook her head sadly. ‘Nothing. For that very reason we need as many Anzaii as close together as possible. We may not be able to get down there and melee with the conjurers and kill them, but we can slow them down somewhat by dispelling again and again.’

I scrunched the corner of my mouth and muttered, ‘Sounds like a grand waste of time.’

‘If that’s how you feel, perhaps you will work out a better way to use your psionic powers,’ Jaalta replied demurely.

‘How much longer do we have to wait?’ somebody from behind me asked. Other voices joined in question. ‘Aye, when do we move to help Condii?’

‘The shroud is ready,’ I announced to nobody in particular.

Tyba turned back to the map he had been studying. A number of writing tools littered the table, reed pens and quill pens among them.

‘Soon, maybe this afternoon.’

‘Maybe?’ Major A.S. Abirim asked.

‘The Zeikas have been playing cat and mouse with Condii,’ Tyba replied smoothly. ‘We believe they may be hoping we’ll draw fighters away from Lantaid, which will leave it exposed.’

I looked at him sharply. ‘Prince Tyba, exactly what size force are we facing?’

He sighed and looked up at the gathering crowd. Most of the Anzaii in the strike force were present now. Captain Dathan stood near Tyba with his arms folded and a grim expression on his face.

Tyba cleared his voice and spoke more loudly. ‘It is believed that the Zeikas have superior fighting forces to ours. They have divided their armies and broken through the barrier in multiple places around our border.’

The noise around the camp dulled down and all turned to hear what Prince Tyba had to say.

It was his Sleffion-kin, Amadeus, who spoke next. ‘There were very few survivors from Lokshole and Lander’s Bay. The Zeikas leave only a small regiment, of about 1000 men in captured towns. There has been word on the waves that around 10,000 Zeikas are on the move from Lander’s Bay to Highford.’

Tyba leaned on his skyearl and held his own chest for a moment.

‘There is even worse news,’ he said. ‘It has been coming to Amadeus and me for some time now, but we didn’t want to alarm anyone unnecessarily when there’s nothing we can do…’

Ciera listened from afar through me.

Tyba cleared his throat. ‘The Sunbark Cities have confirmed the warning from their scouts that around 24,000 Zeikas are closing on their position. The Zeikas seemed to have gained entry through the barrier somewhere near Fireflow Mountain and were camped in the forest between there and Zoen.’

‘Then send the defenders from Lantaid and New Rosenvale to assist them!’ someone shouted.

From the maps I had seen it would be days before either contingent could reach the Sunbark Cities, and they were among the most vulnerable cities in Tanza. With their fire-magic, Zeikas could rain destruction on the Sunbark Cities, as most of the buildings were made of wood and suspended in the trees. Zeikas, on their dragons, could even drop fire-brands on the cities from above the canopy, out of their defensive archery range.

‘Even if reinforcements could get there in a useful amount of time,’ Tyba replied, ‘the combined total of warriors in Lantaid and New Rosenvale is only 11,500. My father is in direct communication with the commanders in all of our cities. It has been decided that if war threatens our more vulnerable towns, they will be shrouded and their populations evacuated to the closest fortified towns.’

‘And sire, what are we doing?’ Jett asked boldly. ‘Naltoch and I have friends in Condii and they say things are looking bad.’

Tyba gestured at Furlorny and said, ‘We await the signal from Condii to move the shroud and the Anzaii in. When that happens, the Anzaii will be dispelling the Zeikas’ conjurations as fast as possible, then we’ll move the shroud back, have a rest and do it all over again. In the meantime, learn all you can from the Chief Architect here about defending the city.’

‘Thank you, sire. Aye, that’s the plan,’ Furlorny said. He glanced at me. ‘Are you up for it Master Psion?’

‘I already feel like I know it and I’ve never even been there,’ I replied, ‘Two of the Rada-kin imprinted me with their knowledge of Condii.’

He laughed, patted me on the back and said, ‘That’ll be a good start! Now listen up everyone, for the human perspective. There are 30 towers around the borders of Condii city, plus six at the main gate and six at the keep, making it one of the most fortified cities in Tanza. The curtain wall encloses the entire city and is three paces thick with a sloped inner passage closer to the outer edge from which arrows can be fired at various heights.

‘There are only six places to get into the passage from the inside and mechanisms are in place to block those off if the thinner outer layer of the wall is breached. Archers and spear-throwing skyearls are stationed at every tower and at the tops of the walls. The Zeikas attack from the skies on their dragons and with their conjurations so there are always squadrons of the Air Combat Group patrolling the sky above Condii.’

His descriptions went on for a long time and I did my best to match up my imprinted ‘memories’ of the city with everything he said. I finished my tea some time during the speech and obtained a flagon of ale. Everyone around me listened with rapt attention to the master stonemason. What surprised me most were the instructions for how we could evacuate the city if all its defences were, somehow, overrun.

Furlorny was adamant that if the Zeikas gained access to the town, we must be prepared to abandon it. The idea of evacuating a town of this size would have been unthinkable in the Upper World, but they didn’t have access to flying shrouds and skyearls.

‘Otherwise, tens of thousands of civilians will perish or be put into slavery,’ he said solemnly.

The fate of Jaria was a stabbing grief in my heart but this was on a much larger scale. I resolved to adhere to the evacuation plan for Condii if it came to that. Nothing was worth saving more than people’s lives, not even this magnificent city. Perhaps after fighting Tanza for centuries the Zeikas would not expect them to flee.

‘I’ve just realised something,’ Tiaro said. ‘You no longer think of yourself as a Jarian.’

‘No, I suppose not, if Jaria is no more…’

‘Nor do you think of yourself as a Tanzan.’

‘No.’

‘What do we fight for then, Taeon?’

‘For me, this is about all Kriites,’ I said. ‘Our entire race is under attack. Therefore it does not matter what realm we are from.’

‘The best way out is via shroud,’ Furlorny was saying, ‘but if necessary a few thousand people will fit in the waterways so it’s a quick enough way out of town.’

‘Let’s not dwell on that possibility,’ Tyba said. ‘The surviving scouts reported that the legion that took Lokshole is the one that now harries Condii.’

‘We have a very active Commander in Condii, S.T.R. Varal,’ Architect Furlorny said. ‘He has spent significant resources over the past twenty years fortifying the city and equipping the defender warriors that are stationed there.’

‘Prepare for battle everyone,’ Tyba announced. ‘We expect the signal soon, so go clean yourselves up, bandage any injuries, relieve yourselves. Do not eat or drink further—sustenance will be provided if and when it is safe and convenient. Leave your belongings here; take only what you need to fight the Zeikas.’

I put down my tankard as the camp scrambled into action. I reached for Ciera and found that he was already on his way back. He was walking off his enormous tree meal. I cleaned the dust from my feet with a wet rag and put my socks and boots back on. The rest of my armour followed, with Jett’s help.

By the time I was ready, Ciera was waiting. He looked tired, but ready for action. The great lizard-like tail, which trailed behind him, was never stepped on despite it sometimes being in the way. A variety of Rada-kin cavorted around the grounds, stretching their muscles, sharpening their claws and play-fighting. I yearned for Rekala.

‘Trees be with you, my Taeon,’ Rekala sent from afar.

Ciera allowed two skyearls to lift the enormous battle-seat onto his back. Next they passed half a dozen spears up to him that he secured in a metal clasp on the battle-seat. The skyearls spent some time adjusting the buckles and making sure they were tight. Under the girth, Ciera’s fur was already rubbed thin from the journey here and to the shroud creation site. I touched the large spikes that were on my shoulder guards, wondering what skyearl had shed them. Or had it been dead when they harvested its horns and claws for human armour?

‘It is a skyearl’s honour to give its body for human protection, in life or in death,’ Ciera explained.

I nodded solemnly, thinking of the viserill. Would I be willing to die to protect others? If not, could I really be used by the Zeikas, used against all Kriites?

I wondered what it would be like to be waveraded; imprisoned within my own mind, watching helplessly as I enabled my enemies to track and kill my own people. Ciera proclaimed the willingness of skyearls to sacrifice themselves for people but could I sacrifice Tiaro, Fyschs and myself to protect the waves?

‘I don’t agree with the use of life-quenching herbs,’ Tiaro told me.

‘But what if they do capture me?’ I asked. ‘I can initiate contact with any Rada-kin or Sleffion-kin. If I concentrate really hard, I can pinpoint them in the waves and get a feel for their location in the real world. A Zeika with those abilities would not only be able to listen in on secret conversations, but would be able to find kin in the flesh.’

‘We will deal with it if it arises,’ she said, ‘but I agree, killing yourself is not the answer.’

Jett was right behind me as I patted myself down to be sure I had all my weapons. I had found a better place for the marble-hilted knife—fastened to my calf beneath the strap for my shin plates. Fyschs was in the white scabbard at my left side, humming with readiness. Jett handed me a pair of iron daggers in sheaths and I slid them onto the Jarian belt.

Jett wore two longswords, criss-crossed on his back, a crossbow and a bolt-pouch at his side. There was a shield for each of us, a light-weight metal disk with wooden grips. I noticed Naltoch nearby, sharpening his beak on a whetstone.

When Jett and I were ready we followed Ciera to the far corner of the strike force campsite where the leaders and their guardians had gathered.

In the lead squadron there were twelve humans in all: Prince S. Tyba, Captain S.T. Dathan, myself and our aides and guardians, including Sergeant S. Corypha. I was the only Anzaii. The other Anzaii were still preparing their skyearls for battle, chanting battle-songs or meditating on the waves while their guardians put the final touches to their weapons and armour.

There was something ritualistic about the way each sword was drawn from its scabbard and sheathed again, each buckle and strap tugged and refastened, each bolt and arrow checked for cracks or splinters.

It wasn’t until I saw someone dipping their arrow-heads in a red, bubbling poison that the magnitude of what we were about to do hit me. This was a war—and a war like nothing I had ever seen. There would be no quarter, no negotiation.

Sergeant Corypha stood next to me and gazed out over the campsite where I was looking. ‘It’s us or the Zeikas, you know.’

I nodded. He dragged his hand through his sandy-brown hair. His skin was lighter than mine and not as golden as Sarlice’s. His family might have been from Telby or Jesath. Kriites from those areas tended to have a more intermingled heritage.

‘They’ll do everything within their power to crush us,’ he went on, ‘even turn our own magic against us.’

I faced him, perplexed by his relentlessness. We had never spoken before, yet he was already trying to persuade me to his view. He mistook my expression for confusion.

‘Just think about it,’ he began, ‘Tyba said the Zeikas have broken through our protective barrier in more than one place. They use Kriite blood to do that. It’s a twisted counterpoint to the purpose of our barrier. How much more, then, are they able to tap our wave powers?’

I had wondered that myself, not long ago. I resettled the helmet on my head to release some pinched skin.

‘The last person I encountered with those concerns had just killed the only Anzaii that Jaria had left.’

The silence between us became deadly.

Then Corypha squeezed my arm and said, ‘I’m sorry to hear about what happened to Jaria. Is that why you came here?’

I took a deep breath and let it out again. ‘Yes—Sarlice and I came here to find help for our tribes.’

‘You’re from separate tribes?’

‘She is from Lyth and I am from Jaria.’

‘Ah,’ he sighed out as if he’d discovered a great truth. ‘Is she the one with red hair?’

‘Mmm,’ I mumbled.

‘I saw you with her in Centan,’ Corypha said to me with a nudge. ‘Known her for long?’

I kept my eyes down as I tried to think back over the time Sarlice and I had been travelling together.

‘We only met last summer,’ I replied.

‘And she’s in Centan still, isn’t she?’

I nodded. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Oh I just know how hard it is to be parted from those you love in times of war.’

I chuckled nervously, sighed to myself and muttered, ‘I hope she will go to Lantaid to escape with our Rada-kin.’

‘That might be wise,’ Corypha said, eyes widening. ‘Do let me know if you want one of the viserill packets, won’t you?’

‘Trees! Go stuff your viserill up your—’

His Sleffion-kin called him away and I was relieved my thoughts hadn’t become a reply.

Chapter Thirteen—The Many

All too soon we were mounting up, along with the rest of the strike force. The Chief Architect and several members of his manor staff were ordered to stay behind at the camp. It didn’t surprise me that they wanted to keep a man of his genius safely away from the battlefront. Some people spoke of him as the best engineer in Tanza, a man capable of utilising the height and lifting power of the skyearls to construct anything from immense buildings and bridges to giant catapults.

Tyba waved farewell to Furlorny as Amadeus launched into the air. Mist sprayed my face. The great purple and orange skyearl gave a roar of anticipation and the entire strike force followed him in one immense wave of spread wings and puffs of shroud.

Once we were airborne, Ciera flew ahead of the main group, buffeting them with the force of his wing beats and letting them ride his wake.

We reached the mobile shroud and continued to fly with it trailing beneath us. Some of the smaller skyearls, not much bigger than Fleetfoot, landed on the shroud to rest and reserve their strength for the coming battle.

I hadn’t realised how close we were to the city, but we soon came upon one of the thirty towers. Five spear-skyearls were standing watch on the flat roof, the claws on their four cat-like feet clutching the wooden railings that had been installed for them. The lances they held were twice my height, with glistening red tips. There were ten humans stationed there, five of whom were the spear-skyearls’ sleffion-kin. The other five were unbound members of the defenders, in the archery division. One of the archers cheered when she saw us. The others raised their bows in a sign of victory.

We passed over a river and seven other towers before, finally, coming to a halt in mid-air. The shroud floated between two of the towers at one end and over the healer’s ward of Condii at the other. The front gates of the city were visible in the middle-distance, a looming wall of steel, diamond and grey stone. The ten towers formed a circle near the front gate with the four outer towers only just within firing range of the one next to it.

From the air the gate appeared to be located in a depression in the city wall, forming a W at one end of the city. This created a sort of gauntlet with six towers within firing range of each other guarding the gate. Rounded pillars of marble, as tall as Ciera, had been erected on either side of the gate and a network of steel framing held it all in place. The pillars reached high into the sky with a narrow point at the top capped with steel and flying twin skyearl flags of Tanza.

Archery division skyearls flew in gigantic arcs around the far side of the front gate; their target, a legion of Zeikas outside the firing range of the towers on the south east corner. From this distance I could barely make out what was happening on the ground. A cacophony of emotion in the waves let me know there was plenty of fighting going on, but most of it was in the air. I hummed Halduronlei to myself, trying to close the clamour out of my mind.

Ciera sat on his haunches on the edge of his shroud, eager to engage. The battle-seat had a sturdy back-rest so that when Ciera was sitting up on his hind legs, it still held me in. The great skyearl wrenched one of his spears from the clasp beside me. A low growling emanated from his throat.

‘Easy, Ciera,’ I said.

Dragons harried the circling skyearls and we were ordered to stand and watch as the battle raged on. The Anzaii strike force needed to wait until enough conjurers had revealed themselves—only then would we know where our abilities would be most effective.

It seemed to me like there were plenty of Zeikas already. There were at least twenty rows of a hundred men, but they waited outside firing range of our towers. It was as if they were daring the Condiites to leave the safety of their tower-watched city.

Meanwhile, Zeikas on dragons broke through the skyearls above Condii high in the sky every now and then and rained fireballs down upon the soft heart of the city.

There were conjured beasts in the air and on the ground too. Green-winged, long-beaked death hawks, like the one that I’d encountered near the Catacombs of Krii, flapped in angry circles. The rest of the creatures were new to my eyes but I had learned enough about Zeikas, recently, to name them.

White-furred, gorilla-like theros roamed among the ground troops, belching out their roars and beating their chests with grotesquely clawed hands. They were nearly twice the height of a man and had bulging, red muscle tissue beneath their sparse fur.

Wriggling closer and closer to the towers were mobs of firewyrms. The conjurers responsible for these had positioned themselves behind the first line of warders and flamers. With arms outstretched, they guided their green-flamed conjurations closer to the south-east tower.

To my surprise, not a single arrow was wasted on the firewyrms. Instead, buckets of water were hoisted from windows high up on the tower and an Anzaii emerged right into the midst of the firewyrms with arms outstretched, attempting to smite them. One by one they fell—but not without burning her and the wooden tower door. The next wave that attacked would probably break through. The wounded Anzaii retreated inside the tower leaving only smoke behind.

And thus went the rest of the day. We stood by, ready and watchful, as the Zeikas made only token efforts to trouble and weaken Condii. I hoped that somewhere, someone was thinking about our enemy’s tactics and taking steps to discover why a full assault had yet to be launched. Ciera and Tyba didn’t seem to know.

Were they building catapults or siege engines nearby? Were they concealing other Zeikas within spirit circles, creeping closer and closer to Condii’s tower sentries? The possibilities seemed endless and the odds were all on their side.

After a while, I climbed down from Ciera’s back to stretch my legs.

‘Why don’t we attack?’ a mounted guardian named Aquala asked from behind me.

‘Our orders are to wait for a full scale commitment from the Zeikas before joining battle,’ Ciera replied. ‘We must trust the prince, the high commander and the king and queen. They have a better idea of the big picture.’

‘It won’t do anyone any good if we rush in and get ourselves killed,’ Jett agreed.

After night had fallen Tyba allowed us to consume a small meal. In the darkness I could hardly see what I was eating and I only managed to eat a few bites. My stomach ached with tension. We couldn’t even look up to see the stars because Ciera’s protective roof-shroud was still there, blocking us from eyes above.

I kept watch on the small amount of sky that was visible around us. Because of the intensity of my vigil, I was the first to spot the dragon. It flew in a backwards and forwards pattern as if scanning systematically. Our shroud was safely within the boundary of the 30 towers, but if the dragon got on the right angle, it might be able to see us between the sandwiching shrouds. It zigzagged east to west, moving ever northward, closer and closer to our position.

‘Tyba, we have a Zeika scout closing in,’ I said, never taking my eyes off the barely-visible shape.

‘I don’t see anything. Jigm, can your Rada-kin confirm?’

S.R. Jigm, who was sitting nearby, stood up. His Rada-kin, Kotor, gave a warning growl. I climbed back into the battle-seat, daring to hope it might be Ciera and me who got to chase down the enemy. Such danger would be preferable to this mind-numbing waiting.

‘Right,’ Tyba said, ‘Aerilaya, Mnason, Assos: kill that scout.’

‘Yes, sire,’ Aerilaya responded. The three Anzaii and their three guardians ran to their Sleffion-kin and mounted up. Within moments all six skyearls and their riders had leapt from the side of the shroud and winged in a big circle to intercept the Zeika conjuration. As soon as they made themselves visible, the scout dived towards the ground and we lost sight of them all.

Tyba began pacing restlessly. He hadn’t eaten anything either, and I sensed that he wouldn’t take his eyes off the battle right now, even if someone put a sizzling hot salmon right in front of him.

The chilled night air poked its cold fingers down the back of my neck. Sweat broke out on my face and back, causing me to shiver. Ciera’s lurch of alarm reached me before my eyes picked out the shape of a dragon and rider descending through the clouds. As soon as it came level with the shroud it would see us.

Ciera acted first, with me barely having time to gather my wits before he was diving off the shroud. The dragon wheeled at the sight of him. Has the Zeika seen the strike force?

We pursued arrow-straight, but the much smaller dragon was more agile in the air. I reached for one of the bronze knives, but in this darkness and at this speed I doubted I could do anything useful with it. Ciera drew one of his spears from the case and pitched it ineffectually at the dragon.

The dragon fled north, avoiding the archery and spear range of the seven towers we passed. I barely spared a thought for the strike force we’d left behind—Ciera and I could handle one tyrak. When it crossed the river and reached the trees, it dived for cover, knowing Ciera could not follow. Thanks to the imprinting I’d received, I knew that forest well, so I knew it was too dense even for a dragon to fly. We landed so suddenly that the ground shook and whirls of dust rose into the air. Ciera was puffing and enraged. His mental command to destroy the Zeika propelled me forwards.

Tiaro’s thoughts were with me as I ran into the cover of the trees. My heart thundered in my ears. Broken branches revealed the path of the fleeing Zeika. He knew he had seen something important but, without wave communication, he must get back to his fellows to share his information. In the darkness, my only chance of finding him was by scent. I crouched to all fours, keeping my head up and reaching for my black dire wolf form. Gradually my senses became clearer. The night seemed brighter and the smells of the forest came alive around me.

I pursued the Zeika, buoyed on by Ciera’s restless pacing behind me. The Zeika had climbed into a tree not far from the end of the trail of broken branches. My hackles prickled at the smell of Zeika magic in the air. A dragon rider was no less than level four in Zeika initiation, a conjurer, scryer and expert warder and flamer. At any moment another of his bestial conjurations could burst from the darkness to slice me open.

I opened my mind to the waves hoping they would give me discernment or a premonition. A crackling bolt of green fire lanced towards me. The leaves sizzled and popped behind me, the flames catching despite the moist, green interior of the branches.

I circled the tree, watching the Zeika become more uncertain. If he vacated his own senses to conjure a creature now, his own body would be left vulnerable for just enough time for me to kill him. He gripped the branch he was sitting on with both hands and shimmied higher.

I growled, finding that it soon became the snarling, guttural challenge of a full-grown icetiger. I was not as big as Rekala in this form, but the muscles of my legs and jaws were primed and strong. My sense of smell diminished in this form, but I could climb. The Zeika flamed in my direction.

I was already moving. With thick claws sinking into the dry bark I hauled my weight up in three lurches. My jaws clamped over the Zeika’s leg as he tried to get away. Flames scorched my ears and whiskers, but I climbed a little higher and savaged the man’s face with long, razor-sharp claws. Distracted, his flaming ceased. Getting my teeth around his neck, I snuffed my enemy’s life with a single bite.

The taste of the blood shocked me; like warm metal, but sweet and refreshing. I let the body drop from the tree before following it to the ground. It was tempting to fall upon it and feed, but something about that made me hesitate.

‘Enough, Taeon,’ Tiaro advised.

Halduronlei whispered through the waves, as if borne on the wind that murmured in the trees around us. The sadness of its melody immediately recalled me to my human self. I hunkered low to the ground in my natural form retching and trying to scrape the Zeika’s blood from my mouth. My stomach cramped horribly and pain burned inside me.

Finally, I vomited. I lay there for some time, trying to recover.

Tiaro led me out of the forest to the stream we had crossed in pursuit of the Zeika. Ciera watched silently, listening to the chimes and strings of Halduronlei that Tiaro now brought to our memory. It made me so mournful, as if reminding me of the bigger picture of the world we lived in. Jaria destroyed. Tanza in a serious war. Zeikas swelling in numbers and ranks, flooding into the rest of Chryne like a torrent of poisoned water. I tried to clean the blood from my hands and clothing, but it had already dried red and waxy. My stomach clenched again, even though my nerves had calmed.

Poison! The blood-red tips of the poison-dipped arrows floated to the surface of my mind. Ciera and Tiaro immediately saw the connection I had made. Mildew was white, not red. The mildew that had been found on those food barrels had been poison; a failed attempt to wipe out the strike force! And they’d tried it again. The stomach pain and sweating I’d experienced wasn’t nervousness at all. It was poison. Thankfully the little food I had consumed had been regurgitated already, but what about the others?

‘Amadeus,’ I called out so suddenly through the waves that I didn’t stop to question whether I could reach someone else’s Sleffion-kin or not.

Amadeus’ soul-strong presence reared up in the waves. His solidarity with Tyba was incredible; so tightly were they linked that Tyba’s emotions blurred with the skyearl’s. Despair!

‘Taeon, the strike force has been poisoned!’

‘I know,’ I cried out. Ciera and Tiaro were with me in the waves, talking all at once.

How could this happen? Who poisoned the strike force? Are you well? Were the Zeikas behind it? How many have been affected? What are the Zeikas doing now? Are the guardians for the lead squadron sickening as well?

‘Those that still can are forcing themselves to throw up. Others have been carried to the healer already. Some have already died, very soon after you left us.’ Amadeus’ words carried the weight of a sobbing heart with them.

Viserill... I thought. I paced back and forth, muddying my boots on the shore of the river.

‘Where is Corypha?’ I asked.

Amadeus did not reply for a long time. I chewed water-reeds from the side of the river to clean the bile and blood taste from my mouth. When Amadeus finally contacted me it was only to say that nobody had seen Corypha for some time.

‘He’s a Wavekeeper,’ I realised, shocked by my own thoughts, even as conviction of their truth struck home. ‘He’s trying to kill all the Anzaii.’

‘Why?’ Amadeus demanded—and I almost heard Tyba’s exasperated tones. ‘We may be the only hope Tanza has of winning this war.’

‘They don’t believe that,’ Ciera replied. ‘The Wavekeeper cult believes that Anzaii magic is something gone wrong. They believe it corrupts the waves even though we embrace them as heroes.’

‘Yes, yes, we have heard their wild claims,’ Amadeus replied angrily. ‘But would they really use them to justify poison and murder?’

‘Perhaps they see it as sacrificing a few for the greater good,’ Ciera replied, though he sent with it a clear impression of his disapproval of such an attitude.

‘Find Corypha,’ I ordered. ‘Do not kill him! We need to know exactly what he has set in motion before it’s too late.’

I was aware that Tyba reserved judgment against Corypha. No matter how convinced I was, he needed more time to consider the evidence. Still, he was impressed with my quick thinking.

‘What are you going to do?’ Amadeus asked.

The question surprised me; I had expected them to order me back at once. For the very first time, I became aware of the taste of my own authority.

‘Let’s find out what we are capable of doing,’ I suggested privately to Ciera and Tiaro.

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

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

I had almost forgotten about Jett.

‘Thanks,’ I replied.

‘Ciera, be careful,’ Amadeus advised. ‘You’re not invincible, even with a master psion on your back.’

Chapter Fourteen—Entrapment

I turned and ran for Ciera. The great skyearl crouched, tail lashing through muck and vegetation. As soon as I was fastened safely, a cloud spread out below me and Ciera launched into the air. His body whipped sideways, magical winds and wings propelling us into the sky.

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

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

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

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

‘I’m glad you made it,’ I shouted.

Ptemais pulled up next to Ciera and landed on a puff of shroud he created. Ciera set down gingerly and stretched his aching wings. Despite the assistance of a puff of wind from the creation of some shrouds, the stress of flight still took its toll on his body.

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

‘Corypha,’ I growled.

‘What—you know who it was? How?’

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

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

‘You are safe?’ I queried.

‘Aye, but I am not whole without you.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘We will, my Taeon.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘They invoke demons, which appear different on the waves than in the physical plane,’ I said, thinking as I spoke. ‘A Zeika must stay focused on their conjurations via the waves.’

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

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

I plunged myself after the tendril. The dragon began to fade. Tiaro ran beside me in a form like a leopard. She chased the demon with her keen eyes and spirit-senses.

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

‘Faster, Tiaro!’

A rushing wind stirred the plains around us as we ran and the echoing howl of the demon filled my ears. Tiaro pounced on the glowing rope and wrestled it to a halt. Like a dog presenting a half-slain creature to its master, she turned and proffered the glowing rope to me. I grasped it in both hands and yanked.

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

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

Strong he may be, in the real world, but here his weakness was exposed. Despite his frailty and hindrances, the Zeika rose up to fight me. I drew Fyschs from the sheath at my side and held him at the ready. This occurred both in the real world and in the waves. Curses and threats flew from the Zeika’s mouth. He made casting gestures and ward runes, but his magic did not harm me.

Tiaro watched over me as I struck the struggling figure with my Tolite-kin. Dark scratches formed on my arms and face, stinging like poisoned dagger-slashes. The Zeika screamed at me, blinded by his hatred and filled with the thoughts and desires of a dozen demons.

The demons retreated as Tiaro’s teeth crashed into the Zeika’s head. Fyschs obliterated the remaining demons, which were frantically trying to leave the retiring vessel to find another. We crushed them with one final sweep.

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

‘It is done,’ I whispered huskily. ‘Tiaro and I killed the Zeika and his demons.’

Ciera chuckled lovingly at me, perplexed and relieved at the same time. ‘All that effort to entrap one conjurer,’ he said. ‘How will we ever succeed?’

‘Don’t be a pessimist,’ Tiaro scolded him. ‘We will improve over time.’

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

I tried to explain it with words, but a feeling of pure joy bubbled out of me. I found myself laughing with relief and astonishment.

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

‘What did you do?’ Jett asked.

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

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

‘You killed him?’ Jett pondered.

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

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

‘Careful, there may be more,’ I said.

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

The sound of Ciera’s teeth chopping the theros in half filled the air. Growls and screams accompanied the battle and black blood sprayed over Ciera’s purple-blue fur and feathers until they glistened like oil. His spear broke in the stout body of one of the theros. He threw down the haft and roared thunderously.

The final two theros ignored the warning, throwing themselves at him with reckless abandon. He swept them together, knocking them senseless. He pressed them to the ground with his front feet and beckoned me forward.

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

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

I extended my hands and touched both of the hot, moist bodies. One vanished under my touch so rapidly that I didn’t have a chance to entrap the far-conjurer. I dived after the other; struggling to swim through the murkiness of the waves to locate his mind. I caught him like a fish, but he slipped easily out of my grip.

The scenery around us blurred and the water receded, leaving behind the dark, dry desert that I had encountered before. The chalky red dirt stretched for miles in every direction, dotted with small and large stones. Severe snow-capped mountains blockaded the horizon and lightning danced in the cloud-bruised sky.

Unlike the first conjurer I had faced, this one turned to face me with a sneer. His form was somewhat distorted to my eyes in that place; he wavered before me like a black flag in a moonless night. Looking down, I saw that my boot was firmly placed over a corner of his robe, pinning him in place. I realised that this was the tenuous link with which I held him.

As he turned, his body came right up against me, yet I dared not move and take my foot off his robe.

This Zeika’s spirit-form was tall; he stared down at me with hatred, his whiskers scratching my temple. Before I had a chance to decide what to do, his hands were around my throat.

‘You will die,’ I croaked.

He struck me with the back of his meaty fist. If it was possible for bones to break in that place I was sure my jaw had been crushed. The ground rushed up to meet me. The impact shocked me senseless and still the Zeika attacked. He kicked me until there was no part of my body left untouched.

‘I am immortal,’ the Zeika told me, letting spittle fly with his words. ‘Unlike you—pitiful slaves.’

‘You’re wrong,’ I managed to say through split and swollen lips.

He swore at me in Reltic, still unable to detach his robe from my grip; which was caught on part of my armour.

A breeze ruffled through the darkened plains, bringing with it the fresh, rough scent of the wild. In my battered state, I barely heard the sound of a leopard’s footfalls.

Tiaro rushed through the scene faster than my stinging eyes could see. She seemed even larger this time. The Zeika’s scream was the last thing I heard as the robe tore free and he was severed from the living world.

As I came back to myself, Jett was hauling me to my feet and propelling me towards my Sleffion-kin. Naltoch squawked from above.

‘Zeikas, zeikas!’ he warned us through the waves.

‘They mustn’t like what you’re doing, Master Psion,’ Jett said. ‘There’re more coming.’

Wiping my hand across my jaw to ensure it was whole, I groggily replied, ‘Let them come. Tiaro and I can slay them.’

‘Yes, Taeon, but there is a limit to how many you can face. You need rest,’ Ciera nudged me with his nose to push me up into the battle-seat. On the far side of Ciera’s body rose a tide of blinking lights.

The wind shifted, carrying with it the stench of Zeika flames and conjurations. Up from the valley came what had to be the bulk of their army. Too numerous to count, the black-green ranks swelled up around the south east corner of Condii, surrounding us. Crossbow bolts and balls of fire rocketed into the air just as Ciera and Ptemais sprang out of reach.

The skyearls carried us well clear of the approaching Zeikas. Anger pulsed through me, bringing with it a heady rush. I wanted so badly to turn and fight. I watched the Zeikas move catapults into place, launching a barrage of rock missiles at the southern tower. The sound of stone striking stone and crashing to the ground spurred Ciera on. A Tanzan flying squad rushed past us, arrowing straight for the catapults.

In perfect formation, the eight skyearls whipped suddenly and knocked one of the catapults over. Conjured dragons swarmed up from the valley in much greater numbers, catching several of the skyearls by surprise. The others wheeled away, forced to leave their friends to die.

‘We can help,’ I said to Ciera.

‘Nay,’ he replied, ‘We must get back to the others and tell them what you’ve learned.’

‘The strike force?’

‘Aye.’

‘What remains of it.’

Chapter Fifteen—Tactics

Ciera’s enormous wings conveyed us to the shroud he had made in very little time. Only a handful of people remained standing watch. The rest were either deployed or in the healing ward. After I dismounted, Ciera walked the length of the shroud telling the other strike force Anzaii what I had done to the far-conjurers. Jett, Naltoch and Ptemais stood behind me, on alert.

Colonel Aerilaya, the Anzaii who was presently in charge, gestured for me to approach.

‘Welcome back, Taeon,’ she said. ‘I hear you’ve found a way to attack the conjurations at their source. Good work.’

‘Thank you, Colonel,’ I replied.

‘It’s probably a good thing we didn’t attempt to train you ourselves,’ Aerilaya said. ‘You might have been limited in your thinking if we had.’

‘What do you mean?’

She had a head full of dark brown plaits, shrewd eyes and a piggish face. ‘You and Tiaro have come at the battle with a fresh perspective. You can learn from each other and from experience as you go along.’

‘Hasn’t anybody ever done what I did to those Zeikas before?’

‘If they have, it was never recorded,’ she confirmed. ‘Wave communication, banishing and dispelling have all been documented, but you seem to have discovered a new ability. What did Ciera call it?’

‘Entrapment,’ I replied, and explained to her what I had done.

When I was finished, she said, ‘Tyba and Amadeus have asked to see you, so you should go to the healing ward now.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said, giving her a Tanzan farewell.

By this time Ciera had finished talking with the skyearls on the shroud so the two of us walked on side by side. As we neared the edge of the shroud, Condii city came into view. Beyond the walls, Condii was a neat, orange-stoned place with mostly black tiled rooves and slate-gray cobblestones on the roadways. I could even see pasture and clumps of trees behind the taller buildings.

Like Telby City, Condii enclosed a sustainable farm district, vineyard and many small, recreational gardens. The main road spiralled around Condii parallel to the outer wall. In four loops, the road reached the central keep, a near-impenetrable fortress guarded by six towers and a moat wider than Ciera was tall.

It was a relief to land inside the relative safety of the walls; I rubbed my eyes and yawned. Ciera and Ptemais proceeded down Spiral Lane West towards the healers’ building, the second-largest building in Condii.

The entrance to the healing ward was an immense stone archway high enough for Ciera to walk through on all fours. Heads turned from innumerable alcoves to the side, watching the emperor skyearl and his master psion human.

Ciera stopped in a large chamber with a domed ceiling and lowered his left shoulder so I could slide down. Jett told me he was going to try to find a quiet place for me to rest. I looked around for the poisoned strike force Anzaii, but couldn’t see them anywhere. How many had Corypha murdered?

I tried to take in my surroundings. The walls were ivory-white with gold frames ribbing the ceiling like the spokes on a gigantic wheel. The mezzanine floor of the chamber was crowded with skyearls of every shade from silver to gold, green to red, white to black. Except for the healer-skyearls, every one had an injury; some more gruesome than others. Here was a skyearl with a crushed tail, there a broken wing stripped of feathers, here a missing forelimb and a gashed face, and there a completely blinded male skyearl crouched angrily in the corner, tail lashing.

Ciera made words with some of them but, over the cacophony of cries and roars, I couldn’t really hear. I listened through our mental link for a time but something caught my attention. Through one of the smaller archways two storeys up was Tyba, face in his hands, shuddering with silent sobs.

My heart sank—we must have lost another Anzaii. Ciera sensed my desire to join the prince so, mid-conversation, he casually reached around and put both forepaws around my waist, claws clicking together, but not touching me. With no sign of effort he lifted me up to the ledge that led into the room Tyba was in.

I said nothing as I made my entrance. The ceiling here was not much higher than my head. Rows of beds lined the wall ahead of me, some tended by human healers. Despite the herbs affixed to the posts and fresh reeds on the floor, the room stank of the flux. Tyba braced himself against the wall to stand. His clothing was soiled and bloody. After some time he caught his breath enough to speak.

‘Colonel A.S.T. Berodukanis just seizured and died,’ he said plainly.

Outrage welled up in me. ‘What treachery is this?’ I shouted, punching the air in front of me.

Tyba continued mercilessly on, all emotion drained from his words. ‘Abirim, Mnason and Phoenicia died not long before. Of three dozen Anzaii in our company only twenty survive.’

He gestured at the beds along the wall where there were several bodies covered with shrouds. The others who had succumbed to the poisoned foodstuffs were going through alternating states of vomiting and an exhausted restless sleep.

‘That’s no way for a warrior to go,’ I said darkly. ‘Have you apprehended Corypha yet?’

‘As soon as you accused him I sent someone looking, but everyone is so busy, they aren’t paying much attention to who is coming and going.’

‘What about Jaalta,’ I asked.

Tyba answered so quickly, I could tell he’d already thought this through. ‘She is on the battlefront dispelling conjurations and sending stray thoughts into the heads of the Zeikas to distract them. Perhaps, later, she can find Corypha.’

Tyba’s adjutant, Lieutenant S.T. Samos bustled into the room carrying an armload of fresh clothing and linen. He put it on a chair nearby.

‘I’ve arranged a room for you two houses down, sire. Oh, greetings to you, Master Psion. A room is not available for you yet. I may be able to find a bed somewhere in—’

‘Ensign Jett is already looking into it, thank you.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Tyba told us. ‘Taeon, you and Jett will share my room.’

Samos hesitated, drew a breath and nodded. ‘Yes, of course, sire. I’m sure the hostess will be honoured to have not one, but three extra guests... despite the fact that the house was full even before we arrived.’

Tyba ignored the jibe of his aide. He moved away leaving Samos to re-gather his armload.

‘Can I carry anything?’ I asked.

‘No, thank you. Though you might want to convey to Ptemais or Naltoch that Jett can stop looking for a place for the two of you to stay.’

Apparently word had spread about my new ability to mind-speak with other skyearls. I wondered what this would mean for my place in the strike force. Would they reposition me into the communications division, stuck in a room transferring messages?

‘The communications division is our greatest advantage over the Zeikas,’ Ciera told me, from down below. ‘Do not belittle them.’

I rolled my eyes but decided I was too tired to argue. I shifted my attention to the other skyearls within range of my wave-perceptions. When I located Ptemais, I told him about the prince’s offer.

‘Jett was having some difficulties,’ he replied with relief. ‘We have never seen Condii this crowded before.’

Tyba was already moving through the room, touching the bedridden people on the forehead and uttering kind words for their recovery. Samos followed him, stammering about what resources he would need to chase up to accommodate both of us. I smiled, thanking the Nine Trees for people like Samos and feeling glad that I was not one of them.

We acquired items from several rooms on our way out of the healers’ building. When we reached the street, a distant booming could be heard. The sky seemed greener in the direction of the south east tower. Foreboding crept up in me. I wanted to respond with action, but my body was heavy with fatigue. The days spent waiting, filled with tension, followed by my near-poisoning, fighting and the stress of learning the Anzaii entrapment skill had taken their toll.

Despite the late hour, there were scores of people about on the street, mostly going to and from the healers’ building. The barracks was also nearby and I could hear the shouts of the commanders and the roaring of angry skyearls. Wings swept over us frequently, beating a pattern through the air that was almost in time to the distant booming from the Zeikas’ attack.

Lieutenant Samos knocked on the richly carved door to a house and was greeted by a very tall lady with a blond top-knot. This contrasted nicely with her dark black skin. Her family were from one of the Kriite tribes around the Barh desert, no doubt. She graciously ignored the state of Tyba’s clothing and exchanged the ritual Tanzan greeting with him. A young boy gestured to him from down the hall.

‘A tub and soap awaits you, sire, as was requested.’

Tyba raised his eyebrow at Samos and followed the boy.

‘Master Psion Taeon,’ Samos began, ‘allow me to introduce you to Pivorn.’

‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘A master psion, have we? You are most welcome in my home.’

‘Thanks in advance for your hospitality,’ I managed.

We stepped through the threshold and into a lavish kitchen, which was currently strewn with crates of supplies and baggage. It was so full of milling people that we had to step over gear to cross the room.

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Samos replied. ‘For Prince Tyba wishes for him to stay here, too.’

Pivorn’s face pinched and she looked quickly away as if unsure how to respond. I could hear coughs and talking from deeper within the house, but couldn’t tell how many other people were in there.

Pivorn cleared her throat. ‘Will you sit and rest while I speak with Vareeki?’

‘Vareeki and his family can stay where they are,’ Samos assured her. ‘Tyba and I will share our room with Taeon and his aide, Jett. We know how hospitable you have already been with all the distressed relatives of the sick and injured.’

Pivorn nodded. ‘It is my pleasure, Lieutenant. As an upstanding member of the speakers guild I consider it a privilege and a responsibility to house those who live too far away from the healers’ building to tend to their loved ones adequately. And I hear that accommodation is only going to become scarcer as Condii receives refugees from The Sunbark Cities.’

Samos stood up straighter, blinking rapidly. ‘I’m not sure where you heard that, but news travels fast where the waves are in use. It is true and we are going to need more people like you to get through this confrontation.

‘In about nine days time the refugees from The Sunbark Cities should arrive. Although the journey is longer, they chose Condii over Lantaid, hoping that the Zeikas will not expect it. They also feel safer within these walls than in Lantaid.’

I wavered on my feet.

‘Do come in.’ Pivorn pulled me by the arm. ‘You look like you need something hot to drink.’

‘Thanks,’ I replied, wincing at the loud caterwauling of a child nearby. ‘That would be most welcome.’

‘I’ll bring it to the room,’ Pivorn said.

Samos needed no further prompting. He marched up the stairs, carrying the clothing and linen, to a medium-sized bedroom with maroon walls and cream fur rugs all over the polished wood floor. A fireplace rustled pleasantly in the middle of the room, cupped in a stone basin that was open on all sides. Slits in the floor around the fireplace allowed air to gust upwards, directing the smoke into the stone chimney above our heads. Samos guided me to a chair by the balcony and proceeded to make up the beds.

As I was unbuckling and peeling off my armour and shirt, Jett entered with a steaming pot of tea. Pivorn came behind with four tankards. She placed them respectfully on the table just inside the door and retreated to tend to her other houseguests. Tyba appeared at the door with wet hair and a rosy flush to his bronze skin.

‘Thank you for arranging the bath, Samos. I am going down to the barracks now.’

‘Again, sire? Haven’t you already been to see Commander Varal this afternoon?’

Tyba pointed at Samos as if to say, ‘we’ve had this conversation before’, but all he said was, ‘Perhaps Taeon and Jett would like to use the bath-house while I’m gone. Then will you prepare a light meal for the four of us, please?’

Samos nodded, watching his prince leave. ‘He takes on so much responsibility,’ he sighed. ‘He has hardly slept nor eaten for days.’

I was selfishly pleased I did not have that level of duty. I ruminated on the idea that my responsibilities as both a master psion and Ciera’s Sleffion had not yet come upon me.

‘You may use the bath-house first,’ Jett said. ‘I need to check and clean your armour so it is ready for you in the morning.’

By the time Tyba rejoined us, both Jett and I had bathed. The smell of smoke and food wafting through the room and the distant cacophony of the rest of the household reminded me of home. To distract myself from that thought I helped Samos and Jett arrange a meal of cheese, chutney, olives, lowryfish, eggs, oatcakes and green vegetables on the table.

Samos had already eaten from each dish—after what had happened to the strike force, he wasn’t going to let Tyba take any chances.

‘And I thought he was doing it for you,’ Tiaro said.

I sent her the impression of a smile and gobbled some food. Jett ate with an appetite. Tyba, on the other hand, ate dispiritedly.

‘Has there been more bad news?’ I asked cautiously.

Tyba chewed his lip and looked up at me from beneath his perfectly symmetrical brow. His striking sky-blue eyes glistened with tears. I was touched that he could be so open towards me with his emotions. For a few minutes he could not speak.

Eventually he said, ‘You remember the situation with The Sunbark Cities?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, but I must admit these figures are nonsensical to my humble upbringing. I cannot imagine a legion of 24,000 Zeikas.’

Tyba shrugged. ‘We can’t fight spread out like they’re trying to get us to. They might have the numbers for it, but we don’t. All over Tanza our people are forced to flee their homes. Never has a war become this serious so quickly.’

‘How many civilians are on their way here from The Sunbark Cities, sire?’ Jett asked.

‘Fifteen thousand,’ he replied. ‘With a defender force of only two-and-a-half. If the Zeikas catch them on the trip…’

‘Can a flight squadron be sent to help them?’ Tiaro asked me, and I passed her question on.

‘A third of the Condii Air Combat Group and half of our Flying Archers were dispatched the minute we heard,’ Tyba replied. ‘But the numbers are irreconcilable; 24,000 against less than 4500. And we cannot spare any more Anzaii, especially now that there are so few of you left. If the worst happens, Condii shall be our last stand. My father considers evacuating Centan even now. With civilians safe in Condii and our defender forces bolstered by his, he believes we might be able to hold off defeat. Divided we will fall.’

My mind reeled at this information. Never before had I been required to think about warfare on such a large scale. Tyba’s comment about there being so few Anzaii had made my face heat with anger.

‘Corypha,’ I hissed. ‘How could he do this to his own people?’

‘That reminds me,’ Tyba replied, ‘Commander Varal asks that you tell me everything he said to you before we departed the base camp.’

I recounted what I could remember and my stomach clenched in anger as I did so.

‘Jaalta is retiring from battle soon,’ Tyba said when I was finished. ‘Before she goes to her designated house to rest, she will report to Captain Dathan and try to locate Corypha. We can’t be sure he is involved, but we do want to find him.’

‘I thought I would be there,’ I blurted.

Jett made a sound of protest, about to speak.

Tyba raised his hand. ‘You have done enough for this Soversday. Do I have to order you to rest?’

‘No, sire.’

Samos chuckled huskily and gulped down some more wine. ‘If only there was somebody around who could say that to you eh, Tyba?’

Tyba grinned and patted Samos on the back as he rose from the table. ‘When this is all over I promise you can confine me to my quarters with Clayr and we won’t come out for a week.’

Samos laughed easily. ‘Fine, but I don’t know how much “rest” that will be!’

The four of us laughed and again I marvelled at how open Tyba was with us.

The fire was soon doused and we were each expected to retire to our beds. I suppressed the desire to ask more questions and reluctantly crawled under the outer layer of my bedding. With my head on a pillow filled with skyearl feathers, I wriggled until I was comfortable and forced myself to close my eyes. It was some time before sleep claimed me, but when it did, I felt the dead weight of my limbs dragging me down into a deep and calming slumber.

‘Goodnight, Taeon,’ Ciera said and I realised he had been humming Halduronlei from afar, watching over me even as I dozed.

Above are chapters 9-15

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About the author: About the author: Alikai Bronach is a fantasy novelist and seasoned wordsmith who ran a self‑publishing business for more than a decade. Now working in marketing communications, she spends her days shaping stories through both words and visuals, with a touch of AI to help now and then. 

In her forties, Alikai is a single mother, a devoted pet parent, and an occasional gamer. Though not a scientist or historian, her love of learning fuels the worldbuilding in her fantasy series, The Psion Saga. Her aim is escapism and entertainment, crafting epic fantasy books that are both vivid and action‑driven.

AI disclosure: While I did not use any AI tools to write my books, I have used it occasionally to check on spelling and punctuation or for research. Some of my graphic design work has AI elements in it.

Disclaimer: This article reflects my personal views and interpretations. While I strive for accuracy, any errors or omissions are my own.