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Book 2: Strike of the Skyearls by Alikai Bronach

The Psion Saga Book 2

Author’s Note

Strike of the Skyearls follows the first book in The Psion Saga, Tiger Eyes and Dragon Teeth.

Talon, an nineteen-year-old man from the Kriite tribe of Jaria, met his new Rada-kin, an icetiger. He was able to take animal form for the first time. Meeting Rekala also awakened an ancient psionic power within Talon’s blood. These rare abilities enabled him to overcome the magic of enemy Zeikas.

Sent by Jaria to seek out allies for their beleaguered village, Talon was accompanied by Sarlice, a warrior from the Kriite tribe of Lyth. On their way to Telby City, Talon and Sarlice met Lira who appeared to need their help. Talon was betrayed and violated by Lira, who was really the Princess Denliyan of Telby.

Pursued by the Zeikas, Talon and Sarlice escaped through the Tanzan Chasm, heading for the safety of the legendary Kriite nation of Tanza.

Contact the author at alikaibronach@gmail.com

Chapter One—A Storm in the Morning

The deep mists chilled my flesh like the snow I remembered in the mountains near my home. My legs carried me forward slowly. My muscles felt stiff and strangely weakened.

I tried to remember how I came to be here, but all I could recall from my passage through the barrier was an exhilarating sensation of flying.

Greenish shapes formed ahead. The mists cleared and a thriving, exotic world came alive around me. The morning air tasted fresh and moist. Small thickets and stands of trees bobbed on a sea of glistening dark-green grass, and beyond the field was a mystical jungle. The sky was iron-grey, clouds looming low over the wild gardens.

In comparison to these forests, the scrubland I had cherished back in Jaria seemed brutish and rough. Even the almighty spruces of the Kiayr Range seemed ordinary compared with the trees of Tanza. I sensed Tiaro awakening as her curiosity was piqued by my reaction to our wild, new location.

To my right a row of trees with dark green bark gave way to a jungle filled with plants of all shapes and sizes. The ground was thick with moist leaves in varying shades from dark green to black and every now and then was a parade of striped orange, pink and purple fungi. Shrubs and small trees flanked the boles of the larger trees, some drooping under the weight of their yellow and purple fruit.

My hunter-gatherer observation skills took over as I mentally tallied the possibilities for both human and animal consumption and use. The husks from some of the palms looked strong enough to build roof shingles. Bessed would be ecstatic to see a forest filled with so many useful materials.

A pang of guilt washed over me for not contacting my foster father in so many weeks. I decided that as soon as I figured out where I was and what was going on I would get Rekala to reach back to Jaria using the network of Rada-kin between here and there.

A gust of fresh air wafted over me and I smelled the rich earth, water and ripe fruit. Vines dangled from the canopy—they were as thin as my little finger, but some held up fallen boughs thicker than me. Moss and lichen grew densely over every fallen trunk and small black lizards darted from one to the other.

There were a lot of fallen trees with bite marks in them, as if some giant creature had feasted here, scattering its leavings. What manner of creature would eat an entire tree?

There were faint creaking noises coming from deeper into the forest where branches rubbed against each other. The wind drew a flurry of raindrops from the swelling womb of clouds above.

Despite the drama of my flight through the Tanzan Chasm, the peace of the rainforest was enough to calm me. I let the muscles in my shoulders relax, stretched and flexed my toes inside my boots, and spread my fingers out.

I heard a soft noise, like the puff of a bellows, reached down and felt the rough hair of my Rada-kin’s back.

‘Are you hale, dear?’ I asked.

She rubbed against me, exuding happiness, then flopped down on her belly to rest.

‘Aye. Those Zeika scouts nearly had us. Their hunt seems relentless.’

I crouched down and felt over her body for injuries. The fur on her majestic face was singed and her nose was dry and blistered, but her eyes had not been burned by the Zeikas.

When Rekala had faced the sorcerers and been injured I sent her ahead through the barrier to Tanza. Sarlice and Kestric hadn’t been far behind her, so I was perplexed not to see them anywhere. My icetiger lay with her nose up and eyes closed, flicking her ears as she drank in the unique sounds and smells of Tanza.

‘We’re safe now,’ I said, including Tiaro in the conversation. ‘There are other Rada-kin in the distance. I can sense them mostly concentrated in an area that way—probably a town.’

‘I concur,’ Rekala said, pleased with the progress I was making in my wave-sight.

‘There are no Zeikas nearby,’ Tiaro confirmed.

There were soft footfalls behind me and the sound of tall grass being swished aside, but I wasn’t alarmed. I turned as Sarlice came up to me and reached for her without even thinking about it. We embraced tightly, our bodies interlocking in a familiar way, with Sarlice’s curls brushing the right side of my chin. We rested against each other for a moment, the enormity of what we had been through just sinking in. The safety of being inside the barrier of Tanza had lifted a terrible weight off my shoulders.

‘Finally, we’re here,’ Sarlice sighed, stepping back. ‘And you… have a sword.’

She gestured at a white sheath buckled to the Jarian leafshard belt I was wearing.

‘I hadn’t even noticed,’ I stuttered.

I pulled the shiny scabbard off the sapphire-leaf encrusted belt, staving off Rekala’s outstretched muzzle. The muscles in my arm strained as I lifted the heavy object.

The golden hilt sported two skyearls, their bodies entwined, heads pointing outwards to form the cross-guard. I drew the sword from the sheath, marvelling at the cerulean-blue metal. I supposed I could get used to the weight with some training and exercise.

I felt Sarlice’s eyes on me, stealing my next sentence, and I froze, uncertain, looking at the sword.

‘Talon, how did you get a Tolite-kin?’ she asked.

A tingling sensation passed through my body. ‘I don’t know.’

She stared at the sword. ‘The Tolites must have come here to Tanza. They could have transferred the weapon-kin magic from Watercrag’s Waterfall Catacombs to the Tanzan Barrier Shield. Anyone with the gift as yet unfulfilled who came through the barrier, would have a chance of becoming bonded to one of the vacant weapons given over to the magic by the Tolites.’

‘Why would the Tolites come here?’ I wondered. ‘Could Watercrag have fallen and we have not heard about it?’

Sarlice thought for a long time before answering. ‘If it happened within the last few weeks, yes. I bonded with Henter at Nooneagle in Watercrag about four years ago. The Kriites there had been under constant threat from Reltland, which is just across the Zeika Strait. I wonder if they were finally driven out and came to Tanza.’

‘Watercrag is closer to Lyth than it is to Tanza. Why wouldn’t they come to you for protection?’

‘If they needed to protect the sacred magic of Tolite bonding from the Zeikas, only skyearls would have been strong enough to get them out. Lyth has not been a safe haven for many decades. Nor do we have constructions like that shield.’

I turned the blue blade in my hands.

‘What is his name?’ Sarlice asked.

I glanced at her. Henter was strapped to her back with a quiver of black arrows.

‘Fyschs,’ I replied. Without even thinking I just knew.

Sarlice grinned.

‘Somehow it feels alive,’ I said.

‘Tolite-kin are not really alive,’ she replied. ‘They aren’t separate beings like Rada-kin or Sleffion-kin.’

‘More like Anzaii-kin,’ I suggested. I tapped Tiaro with my forefinger and glimpsed a slight increase in the earring’s glow reflected in my nail.

‘Both contain sapphire tree leaves,’ Sarlice agreed. ‘The waves allow the connection to your mind, making each artefact an extension of yourself.’

I accepted her teaching, even though I knew the basics of Kriite magic already. As a fully fledged Tolite, Sarlice had years more experience than me with a weapon-kin. My guide had been a member of the warriors guild since she was thirteen, whereas I was a simple harvester.

Sarlice was standing with her hands on her hips looking outward as she spoke to me, taking in the sounds and smells around us. The wind lifted her hair, blowing it in her face. She muttered and pulled it out of her mouth.

Rekala jumped to her feet and bolted around the glade, caught up in the energy of the approaching storm. Dewdrops flew everywhere and she pounced at them skittishly. A shaft of morning sun penetrated the storm clouds, limning Rekala’s whiskers and hair in light.

After admiring the leafshards embedded on the flat of the blade, I sheathed the sword.

‘Maybe we should find some shelter,’ I suggested, bending down to tug my Rada-kin’s tail.

The icetiger spun around with mock-ferocity, rolled onto the ground and pummelled my knees with her back legs, the claws safely sheathed. I tickled her even more, pushing her enormous paws away.

Sarlice weaved her way between shrubs and trees, skirting the jungle. I sensed Kestric deeper in to our left. He had been scouting the entire area, hiding himself in the shadows and keeping his waves to himself.

He turned his attention on me and shared what he was receiving through the waves from Sarlice. A blurred outline of her formed in my mind’s eye. She stumbled over a mossy root up ahead. Her heart was beating fast and she silently berated herself. My real eyes saw her stop and look back at me. A surge of warmth swam through Kestric’s wave, followed by a strange uncertainty. Feeling intrusive, I broke the link.

Rekala bounded into the jungle after Kestric, her immense, stripy paws leaving dents in the grass. I caught up with Sarlice on the crest of a hill. The wind buffeted us, carrying the scent of woodsmoke on its breath. Sarlice sniffed the air and raised her eyebrows.

‘Smells like breakfast,’ she said.

We were relaxed as we walked down the hill and I was comfortable in my awareness of there being other people nearby. I felt certain they were friendlies.

Dark clouds streaked over us, stealing the sun from view early. At the bottom of the hill the first person was a mere silhouette against the brightness of a fire that blazed in the centre of a hollow. Despite the shelter of a huge boulder, the flames guttered and danced in the stirring wind.

‘Hello there,’ Sarlice called out.

The figure dropped his pot of tea on the ground and ran to meet us.

‘Welcome! At last! Talon, Sarlice, I greet you.’

We gaped at him. He bowed low, hands on his forehead. This kind of bow usually signified an oath of allegiance or service. I noticed three dark shapes on the other side of the fire. The man followed my gaze.

‘Your horses were wandering loose. I’ve been here waiting for you to come through the mists.’

I glanced back the way we had come. The barrier shield was only visible in certain places. Along its lower edge was a thick layer of cloud. As the shield rounded up and over Tanza it became partly translucent, revealing the normal-looking sky in patches. It admitted the light, the wind and rain, just not any human being that was not of Kriite blood. I shook my head in wonder. If only Jaria and Lyth had magic like this.

The blood protection Sarlice had spoken of before we’d past through the barrier was that of our ancestors. Why Tanza was the only Kriite nation to have such protection, I did not know, but I had heard that only the skyearls knew how to control it.

From this distance the blue and purple shimmered and ran together like the surface of a pearl. Tiny bolts of lightning arced from one spot to another, creating flashes in the ball’s surface that were mirrored in the sky above us.

‘My name is Tivac,’ the man said.

Returning my eyes to him, I held out my hand.

‘Oh,’ he said, bemused. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of this.’

He grabbed my hand.

Sarlice touched her right shoulder with her left hand and bowed her head. Tivac giggled with pleasure.

‘Ah. You know our ways, my lady. I am honoured by your fellowship greeting.’

We approached the fire together and consumed what was left of the tea.

‘What was it like?’ Tivac asked. He had an open face, curious and childlike. ‘The barrier shield, I mean. It does different things for different people.’

‘My experience was personal,’ Sarlice replied, with a glance in my direction. ‘Put it this way: I have forgiven someone who did wrong by me in the past.’

I knew she referred to her uncle, a man who had abused her as a young woman. She had later killed him in self-defence.

My mind wandered to the perpetrator of my own assault, the Princess Denliyan of Telby. Disguised as a noble named Lira at the time, her attempts to seduce me had not been unwelcome, but she had come up against my deeply ingrained cultural beliefs. Like all Kriite tribes, Jarians tended to take a mate for life, not on a whim. So she had drugged me and attempted to get with child.

‘And what of your experience, Talon?’ Tivac wondered, noticing how deep in thought I was. His eyes were so inviting I almost blurted out what I had been thinking. I wrenched my mind back to the chasm.

‘The magic of the shield challenged a fear I’ve had since childhood,’ I replied, rubbing the talon scar on my wrist.

Tivac nodded. ‘When the skyearls told me about you being a Tolite now, I thought maybe they were tricking me.’

I grinned. ‘They do that?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘How did the skyearls know we were coming?’ Sarlice asked.

‘They sensed you passing through the shield.’ Tivac started packing up his supplies, talking over his shoulder at us all the while. ‘The skyearls are magical creatures,’ he replied. ‘In addition to their wave senses, they have a gift with water. Their bodies can convert water into shrouds, which look like clouds from the ground, but have a solid surface on top. After creating a shroud, the skyearls involved can sense it from afar and it takes small parts of their energy daily to maintain it.’

‘I’ve heard of shrouds,’ I said, ‘but what does that have to do with the barrier?’

‘It is chief among the shrouds,’ he began, ‘bearing similar properties, yet it is altogether different. It is said that three hundred of the largest breed of skyearl, the keltoars, combined forces to create it and, in doing so, gave their lives over to it.’

‘So it has literally the blood of skyearls powering it?’ I queried.

He nodded. I felt a mixture of awe and revulsion. In Jaria we valued individual lives—humans and animals. What kind of culture would sacrifice three hundred lives for a magic shield?

How trivial would reaching out to aid a Kriite nation of hundreds seem to these people? Perhaps it was the crisp wind, but my teeth chattered as I yawned and stretched. Rekala did not share my feelings, instead being far too stimulated by her new surroundings to let my anxiety trouble her. However, I thought I felt a hum of readiness in the sword at my side.

Having finished loading his gear onto his horse, Tivac gestured for us to mount ours.

‘Where are we going?’ Sarlice asked, glancing up at the looming storm.

‘It’s not far to Lantaid,’ Tivac replied. ‘We can expect a blessing from the storm on the way, I’d wager.’

Riding single file, we travelled over hillocks of rich green grass and skirted around large, limestone rocks. The Rada-kin padded silently along the edge of the forest, watching us.

The relief of finally being in Tanza where we were safe from the Zeikas disquieted me. I wished the same peace for Jaria, but even with the mercenaries I had hired for them in Ubu I doubted they would be safe.

‘All is well now,’ Rekala said, finally sensing my distress. ‘We are on track to get help for both Jaria and Lyth.’

‘Maybe,’ I replied. ‘But the longer Sarlice and I take to find allies, the more people from our tribes will perish.’

‘We’re also here to find out if you are a Sleffion,’ Rekala reminded me.

‘I can’t be,’ I argued. ‘I have the two of you and now this sword. I hadn’t even got used to being a Rada when Tiaro came along, and it’s the same with this sword. Things are moving so quickly for me.’

‘The waves are rising around you, Anzaii,’ Tiaro agreed.

‘But a master psion hasn’t been seen for years,’ I protested, frightened of the prospect of having yet another magical gift to learn. ‘Me? Anzaii, Sleffion, Tolite and Rada? It’s too much for one person.’

‘I hope you don’t find us that much of a burden,’ Rekala sulked.

I could just make her out between the trees—she looked dark grey in the stormy morning light.

‘You are not,’ I replied, ‘but a skyearl and the culture of this place to learn along with it? That would be too much.’

‘Just think how much a skyearl could help you on our quest,’ Tiaro argued. ‘If you get a big enough one, you’ll be able to fly! Imagine how much time that will save for the return trip.’

‘You’re right, Tiaro,’ I said, ‘but I’m concerned the time we’d save would be negated by the bonding and training that will be necessary beforehand. If the Tanzan king isn’t willing to help Jaria and Lyth, the sooner we find out and get out of here, the better.’

‘But if Watercrag has indeed fallen, what other Kriite allies does that leave us?’ Rekala asked. Ravra, I thought, not a Kriite nation, but favourable towards us in the past at times.

I called out to Tivac, ‘Does the king of Tanza live in Lantaid?’

‘Nay,’ he said, allowing me to ride Fleetfoot abreast of his horse. ‘The king rules from Centan, the capital.’

He wiped a hand through receding, grey hair. ‘The people you will meet in Lantaid are mostly from Watercrag.’

‘I knew it!’ Sarlice exclaimed. ‘It was the only explanation for Talon’s new Tolite-kin.’

‘I’m grateful, but I am not certain I deserve such a fine weapon.’

‘There will be people in Lantaid to help you,’ Tivac said. ‘It has been only three and a half weeks since they came, but one of the first things they did was establish a bonding charm in the barrier shield. They call it the Curtains of Battle.’

‘Has it been difficult to integrate the two cultures?’ Sarlice asked.

He waved his hand. ‘Oh, it’s just what you would expect. They have lost their Caverns of Forging. There was some contention about combining the magic of the Tolites with the Tanzan Barrier, but it is done.’ He looked at Sarlice. ‘Did your passage through the barrier leave you with a weapon-kin as well?’

‘No. I travelled to Nooneagle years ago for mine.’ She gestured at the sleek warbow on her back.

‘That’s interesting,’ Tivac replied. ‘Maybe you’ll know somebody in Lantaid who is from Watercrag.’

‘Perhaps. Talon is Anzaii as well. If he becomes a Sleffion as well as Tolite, that will give him the rank of A.S.T.R.’

‘Is that right?’ Tivac said, looking at me more closely. ‘A master psion—we have not had one for a long time.’

‘Although I grew up in Jaria, I am a new Rada,’ I said, ‘and an even newer Anzaii—’

‘There are a few Anzaii here,’ he jumped in enthusiastically, ‘but none of them can reach far in the waves. Flight squads are occasionally sent into the Kiayr Range to see if the Anzaii can get word from our departed brethren, but the snowy heights only bring the bleakest silence.’

‘Departed brethren?’

‘Aye. Oh, there’s so much for you to learn of our history.
Many years ago a large number of our people journeyed across the Kiayr Range in search of the Cauldron of Storms, a place
of great power similar to that of our Barrier Shield. It is mentioned in historical scrolls. The chain of heralds lost contact with them during a massive snowstorm and we haven’t heard from them since. Many fear they perished, but the king holds hope. He will ask you to search the waves for them once you are able to wave-speak the minds of skyearls. How far can you reach?’

‘I can reach Rada-kin other than my own within a few leagues,’ I replied, ‘for short bursts.’

He seemed surprised. ‘That is good news.’

‘But that’s with Rada-kin. I’ve never interacted with another Anzaii-kin besides my own. Sleffion-kin might be different.’

‘You are at the beginning of your learning,’ Tivac said. ‘There is hope.’

‘What if I don’t become a Sleffion myself? Will my Anzaii abilities on the waves still extend to other people’s Sleffion-kin?’

‘I believe it has happened before, but not within living memory.’

We rode in silence for a time.

‘Tivac, I have an aunty somewhere here in Tanza named Jaalta. Any idea where I might find her?’

Tivac craned his neck back, then cast his eyes to the sky. ‘I’ve heard of a Rialta somewhere in the Sunbark Cities, but no Jaalta. There are 1.3 million people in Tanza, Talon. Perhaps if you ask around in the capital, someone will have heard of her.’

Our conversation slowed when the wind picked up and it became harder to hear. Daylight disappeared behind clouds of slate. We travelled at a steady trot for half an hour before reaching Lantaid.

The gates of the city were purely ornamental: four coloured pillars on each side of the sand-gravel pathway. Further down the lane was a large water-sculpture: a central water fountain with wiggly arms out to other fountains. I couldn’t make out the exact shapes in the gathering darkness.

Tivac aimed his horse for a large building at the far end of the fountain. Just as the stables came into view, the storm crashed down. An aging stablemaster came out of his quarters at the front of the stables and ushered us inside. The stablemaster moved all three horses into their stalls before untacking them.

Rekala and Kestric burrowed into the straw at one end of the stable and fell asleep. Sarlice and I both yawned in response and then grinned at each other.

Tivac led us through the stable and out the back door to what he called the Hall of Hallows. His explanation of its function went only partially through my mind. In short, the Hall of Hallows served as a greenhouse for communal plantings and a hall for public announcements and meetings. The living quarters down one end were for him and his husband—the caretakers—and visitors.

Most of the wall sconces had been doused for the day so Tivac lit a lamp to lead us through an enormous chamber. I felt relieved that there was no welcoming party or formalities. All I wanted was a quick meal and a long, comfortable sleep.

My unspoken request was granted when Tivac opened the door to a brightly lit guest room. An elegant man with long, grey hair stood in the centre of the room near a table of food. Tivac stroked his hand as he entered.

‘Welcome to Lantaid,’ Tivac’s husband said. ‘I am Glane.’

Sarlice and I both performed the fellowship greeting. Glane smiled and returned the gesture. He pointed out our separate quarters at either end of the living space.

‘When Bessed’s wave reached us, we were only too pleased to hear about two young Kriites coming to visit,’ Tivac beamed. ‘I recall days when there was a steady flow of visitors and migrants through the chasm.’

My smile faded away. How much had the Kriite tribes diminished just in my lifetime? Tivac looked ready to sit down with us and ask more questions, but with all the grace of the experienced host, Glane shepherded him out, leaving us to our meal.

I put down my packs and bent to brush grass off my pants. Rainwater was dripping from my long-sleeved tie-neck shirt onto the brown slate floor so I carefully pulled it off and hung it over a rack by the fire. I was aware of Sarlice noticing the warm light shining on my sepia skin.

‘Am I being crass?’ I asked Sarlice.

She laughed. ‘I should think you know me well enough by now not to ask that.’

I concentrated on her for a minute, trying to see if there was any way I could discern what she was really thinking. What did the emotions Kestric passed to me mean? It was difficult to tell through the filter of a Rada-kin, but I thought I detected respect, friendship, even love.

Was Sarlice attracted to me or was she only fond of me in a brotherly way? The thought of being with a younger man might be abhorrent to her. I berated myself for letting my thoughts turn to lust when I had so recently been led astray. I turned away, slouched and hooked one thumb into the Jarian belt I was wearing.

A glass-covered window revealed the storm outside where lightning streaked across the sky above a rain-lashed river. Unbidden shapes appeared in the rushing river outside—myself and Lira. Naked, I pulled her towards me and kissed her passionately. A well of warmth rose up from the soles of my feet and I stepped back, raising my hands in surprise. The sensory apparition vanished.

Sarlice was seated at the table looking at me curiously. ‘Are you coming to eat?’

‘Aye.’

‘Thank the Nine for seeing us safely into Tanza,’ she said.

‘To the Nine,’ I agreed, raising a goblet.

It was the finest meal I’d had for a long time and I made a mental note to introduce myself to the cook. A roasted pheasant dominated one end of the table, surrounded by clay pots of luke-warm potatoes, boiled vegetables and herb syrup. A covered dish in the centre revealed the full body of a Lowry fish stuffed with fresh nyno eggs and lemon slices.

I filled my belly fast, barely leaving room for spicy hot rolls of lamb, turnip and squash in plum gravy. It was a hearty meal with obvious thought given to the fact that we were wild Rada—who were thought to indulge the carnivorous nature of their animal selves more than city Rada. When all the eating was done and we were able to retire to our beds, I fell asleep dreaming of Sarlice.

Chapter Two—Our People

Rekala pushed the door open and nudged me awake.

‘You are oversleeping, Talon.’

‘I could say the same to you on many occasions,’ I grumbled, not rousing from my pillow and blankets.

‘There’s no such thing as oversleeping for tigers,’ she retorted.

‘Hmmpf.’

My back ached. It was unlike me to sleep in. After years of working for Bessed, with many a night spent outdoors, I was accustomed to rising with the dawn. I had also trained myself to awaken at the slightest sound out of place, but this room was quiet.

A small fire had burned itself out during the night and gave off a faint smoky odour. A rich green rug covered the flagstones on the floor and fresh clothes and a washbowl sat ready on a small, rubywood table.

Rekala stopped nudging me suddenly and sat bolt upright. The stink of fear rose from her like a cloud. I sensed the screaming of voices in the waves far away, calling desperately for help. Rekala served as the terminus for a wave initiated by another presence. I had a vague sense of eight other Rada-kin spanning the continent between us as the sender.

‘Anzaii, oh Anzaii where are you?’

‘Here I am.’ I replied, coming fully awake in my panic.

It was Uola the ram. Despite the fatigue of age, he had fought bravely in battle. Now he lay wounded by the ruins of a Jarian warcamp.

‘It cannot be!’ I cried out.

‘We tried reaching you,’ Uola sobbed. ‘We must have had a dozen Rada-kin searching the waves. Bessed and Drea have been captured.  Many of the warriors and leaders are slain. The surviving citizens of able body have been taken, as before.’

‘Zeikas…’ I snarled out loud and through the waves. ‘What about the children and their carers?’ I asked, desperate with worry. My heart filled with sick dread at the thought of what the Zeikas might have done to them after killing those who protected them.

‘We dug an escape tunnel underground after you left,’ Uola replied. Relief washed through me. ‘It led all the way to a grotto under the mountains that is said to join up with the Catacombs of Krii. They are safe, for now.’

‘What of Jaria?’ Rekala asked anxiously. The other Rada-kin who were serving as Uola’s conduit to reach us were fuzzy outlines in my visual understanding of the waves. None of them were party to the conversation. I sensed that this was a limitation of Uola’s. He was unable to directly link with that many beings at once, using them more as tributaries for which direction to send his link with us.

I sensed that Uola could no longer hold up his head. His muzzle rested in the mud, his body dragging his mind down towards oblivion. He allowed us to see his last memory of Jaria: the village was scorched black, with buildings and huts in a tumbled mess. Some had turned to ashes completely in the fires that ravaged my home town. The trees nearby were scorched and dead. My heart thumped with dread.

‘Are there any other Jarians still free?’ I asked.

Uola’s mind was slipping from the waves and I feared it wouldn’t be long before he was unconscious or dead.

‘Some,’ Uola said with strain. ‘Most of the Rada-kin are slain, but some fled into the forest with Namal and a few other adults to lead the Zeikas away from the tunnel the children escaped into.’

‘How did it happen?’

‘Tyraks…’ the ram sent. ‘Hundreds of them.’

He offered his most recent memories to me, which I pulled desperately into my mind. I ‘saw’ the events of the battle not as a vision, but as I normally perceived someone else’s memories—the knowledge of how things had smelled, sounded, looked and felt as well as the meaning behind every detail.

To the old Rada-kin, it had been an ordinary day, with Jarians going about their business and visitors from other nations shopping or peddling their wares at the market. Uola was with Bessed strolling about the village, checking on the people’s wellbeing. It had been about eight weeks since the Zeikas’ last attack and all of the citizens were still grieving, but village life had a way of staying on track. The people of Jaria pulled themselves together for the sake of others.

Bessed had increased the number of warriors on patrol around the village beyond the lookout towers, but nothing could have provided warning of an attack from above. One minute, Uola was gnawing a wooden post while Bessed chatted amiably with a farrier, the next, there were tyraks descending through the clouds spewing green fire across the village.

The wooden buildings lit up immediately—including my own house—followed by the piles of wood, straw and barrels of goods around the village.

Archers fired from the battlements of Jaria’s fortress, but there simply were not enough of them to cause any real grief to the tyraks.

Mounted on the backs of the dragons were Zeikas, concentrating hard on controlling their conjurations.

Realising they were unable to fight so many airborne foes, Bessed and Uola spread the word for everyone to take shelter in their designated places, some to the fortress, some into the forest, some into the tunnel.

The battle at the fortress went on for hours, with the Zeikas eventually surrounding it on their tyraks and flaming it from a hundred directions. The stones became so hot that some exploded. Even on the inside walls of the fortress, the heat was intense, causing flames to catch on the wall tapestries and reeds on the floor.

From his fallen position outside, Uola saw Bessed and Drea emerge from the smoking fortress minutes before all the people inside would have choked to death. With their heads bowed and their arms uplifted they surrendered Jaria and were taken captive.

‘Where are Bessed and Drea now?’ I asked.

‘T— Telby. Bessed asked me to tell you that you are released from your quest to find allies for us.’

I shouldn’t have been surprised that my foster father was still thinking of me, right up till the moment of his capture. He had, of course, been warded by the Zeikas soon after and could no longer communicate with his injured Rada-kin.

I cursed out loud. The mercenaries I had dispatched from Ubu probably hadn’t even reached Jaria yet. The trade agreement wouldn’t do them any good now.

‘What am I to do now?’ I shouted. Everything I’d worked for was slipping through my fingers. My other reason for being here in Tanza—to find out if I was a Sleffion—seemed egocentric. While I was on a merry journey of self-discovery my tribe was being wiped out. I feared they could not recover from this, but if my powers weren’t to serve Jaria, what were they for?

‘You are not just a Jarian, but a Kriite,’ Uola corrected me. ‘It may be time for you to realise that.’

With those final, serious words the ram’s presence faded and was gone. As I keened aloud in sorrow, Sarlice came running in, demanding to know what was wrong. Although I tried to fight them, sobs wracked my body.

‘Jaria is destroyed,’ I choked out. ‘We took too long.’

She stroked my back and Rekala put one large paw up on my knee, but neither gave me comfort. A fire sparked within in me that Rekala sensed and echoed. A long growl-whine escaped her throat. She and Sarlice drew back as I got to my feet.

Feeling the urge for violence boil up inside me, I pulled open the door slowly, aware of every texture in the wood—every fibre screamed at me ‘You failed!’ I slammed it back, blurred down into dire wolf form and ran through the Halls, not caring about the people I startled.

I ran out into the bright, clean day and hated it. All around me were happy Kriites, doing mundane things. What did they care that their distant relatives were being murdered and driven to slavery back in Jaria? The people of Lantaid went casually about their business: gardening, stripping hides, forging weapons, peddling goods at market.

‘I don’t belong here!’ I wave-shouted.

I headed out the main gate and across a nearby field. Once I was out of sight of all humanity I staggered into human form. Still running I lost my balance over a tumble of rocks and fell at the edge of the river. Sharp wet rocks grazed my face and hands. I pushed my face in deeper until the cold river submerged me and took away the pain.

My thoughts circled. What am I doing here? Did the Nine Trees truly take an interest in us? If so, why didn’t they care enough to protect Jaria?

Tiaro and Rekala tried to console me through the waves, but I pushed them out of my mind and locked myself in. It seemed like a good idea to just keep my head under the water until it killed me, but my body refused to go down so easily. It spasmed and pulled me sideways out of the water. Gasping with sorrow and breathlessness, I slowly rolled onto all fours.

My hands crunched into fists and, grasping as many rocks as I could, I hurled them into the river. If I could have screamed I would have, but no sound would come out of my throat. It was trapped inside me; a pain, like thirst, that could never be quenched. I crouched there for a long time throwing stones at the water.

Much later a shadow passed over me in the afternoon sunlight.
I looked up and could just make out a flying shape in the clouds. Beyond the clouds the sky shimmered and undulated with a strange, unnatural glow as if a mantle had been spread right over it from horizon to horizon. The barrier was visible up there, in places. The flying shape grew larger as it descended, reminding me of the crag hawk that had once nearly killed me. For some reason I wasn’t frightened, but I stood up when I realised the shape was heading straight for me.

I bit my tongue in shock as a skyearl of phenomenal size landed beside me with a thump. Its thickly padded paws left footprints the size of a barrel. Its neck arched backwards so that the lizard-shaped muzzle rested majestically on a muscular chest, which was thickly furred. Its head was the size of an entire horse and had a similar shape to a horse’s head as well. It was covered in rope-like fur that ranged from all shades of amethyst purple to sapphire blue and emerald green.

Its golden nose was tipped with three shiny domes. Large purple-ivory horns poked out of the ruff along his brawny neck. Two arm-length horns adorned the outline of each cheek bone, mere decorations when compared with the immense triplet of purple claws on his four lion-like feet.

The rest of his body was covered with glossy fur except the wings, which were feathered. The colours and patterns on the feathers were so beautiful—they appeared to shimmer from blue to purple to green. In this posture, the top curve of his wings touched the back of his neck and fell from there like a waterfall. His muscled tail, which was thicker than the trunk of a cedar tree, curled regally around his powerfully built hind legs.

More chimera than dragon, the skyearl seemed made of lizard, lion, eagle and horse. He regarded me with a calculating, golden eye. The pupil was shaped like a bird in flight. I stood there mystified by his size and magnificence, but unafraid. Knowing he was an animal with intelligence to rival my own, I had no fear, only awe.

He cocked his head and I sensed the locks on my wave-link being pried gently open. Suddenly the skyearl broke through and a tide of knowledge rushed into my mind. My legs went slack and the skyearl’s clawed hand caught me as I fell, and held me until I stopped shaking. The shovel-sized claws protruded on either side of my body, cupping me dexterously between two fingers.

The creature’s memories were like a window upon the world of skyearls. I had not imagined until now that there was so much more to know. This skyearl had been alive for nearly three centuries—waiting for me! The realisation that I truly was going to be a master psion now filled me with such emotion that tears streamed from my eyes. My soul was so full of intense emotions and new information that my grief melded into my elation and brought me to a place of complete humility.

Who was I to have been spared Jaria’s fate? Who was I to be here in this place with these people and these miraculous gifts?
I wondered if I would be ready when my time came to really use my psionic abilities against the Zeikas. How would I—a lowly hunter-gatherer from a tribe that had been wiped from the face of Chryne—stand up to the most powerful sorcerers the world had ever known? If the people of Tanza hadn’t been able to defeat the Zeikas, how would I help the Kriites, even if I was a master psion?

The anger in my heart receded as I glimpsed the skyearl’s own terrible grief and sadness for countless lives lost. The concerns of Jaria seemed small now that I fathomed the lifestyle and magnitude of Tanza. Thousands of Tanzans died every year in Zeika raids—despite the strength of the barrier shield, the sorcerers were sometimes able to break through using human sacrifices to counter the barrier’s magic.

Several hundred years ago Bal Harar had learned how to conjure dragons, the only real threat to a skyearl. Since then, the Zeikas had done everything in their power to overthrow the people of Tanza.

The blue and purple skyearl who held me had overseen thousands of battles in his lifetime. He had tasted the magic-sour flesh of Zeikas. He had performed the shrouding many times and constructed an entire building on one of the shroud platforms, called Raer.

I blinked stupidly as I absorbed more information from the skyearl’s mind. Tivac had mentioned sky kingdoms made of shrouds, but I hadn’t been able to comprehend. Without even having to ask, it became apparent to me that sky kingdom shrouds looked like ordinary clouds from the ground, but solid-ground floated above them. In some parts of Tanza, there were literally cities in the sky.

‘Is this real?’ I asked through the waves, picturing one of the cities in my mind.

He chuckled aloud, his voice soft and deep. Though his silvery lips moved with the precision of a human being, out came a thick, husky sound. His accent was odd, even compared with the other Tanzans I had heard. He seemed to favour long vowel sounds like ‘ay’ and ‘o’. And so he spoke my true name.

‘It is real, Taeon.’

It resounded like a bell in my mind; a turning point in my life. I was Rada, Anzaii, Sleffion, Tolite, Taeon, a man who no longer feared birds, a Kriite with the most tremendous Sleffion-kin in the world. The skyearl pushed me to my feet and grinned at me. The intimate wave-link we had shared a moment ago snicked closed and I staggered a little as I regained my equilibrium, both physically and mentally.

‘You have done well to take all that in, kindred,’ the skyearl spoke. ‘But we will share information through speech for a while.
I don’t wish to overwhelm you.’

‘You’ve already done that,’ I responded without malice. ‘I don’t even know who I am anymore, let alone who you are. We’ll have to take this slowly.’

‘What would you like to know?’

I scratched the back of my head, staring up at the skyearl’s massive body. The skyearls I had seen in Sarm many years ago hadn’t seemed quite so magnificent.

‘Are all the skyearls in Tanza this big?’ I asked.

‘Nay.’ He lifted one purple claw to scratch his neck. ‘I am of the old breed, but even among the keltoar I am the largest and oldest skyearl in Tanza. My name is Ciera.’

I blinked, licking my lips. ‘Ciera… the Emperor Ciera?’

‘The very same,’ he said with amusement.

My hopes suddenly flared. ‘I was sent here because of your invitation to all Kriites, Ciera. My people sent me even though I was their only Anzaii, and now Jaria Village has been wiped out by Zeikas. Will you fly back with me to free the survivors who’ve been enslaved?’

‘We will go back when the time is right,’ Ciera started gently, ‘but I feel that won’t be for a while yet. I have not waited three hundred years for you so that you could rush through our bonding and fly off without learning a thing or two about your new gifts and responsibilities.’

‘Can’t you do something now, like send a squadron of warriors in our stead?’

‘I could,’ he said aloud, ‘but against the wishes of the human king of Tanza. Skyearls have hardly been seen in Telby for decades because we were exiled from that land. In fact, Jaria had some part in that. So it is a delicate matter to send in warriors uninvited.’

‘My own father had some part in the exile,’ I muttered, ‘but even he recognised that Tanza and Jaria were not enemies. Besides, the ban against the Zeikas has been lifted—perhaps it’s a free-for-all now.’

‘It is not my place to make decisions for Tanza that may have political ramifications,’ Ciera replied.

‘Please…’ I began, desperation blinding me to the possible consequences. Couldn’t they fly through Ravra, bypassing Telby altogether?

Ciera sent a thread of calmness through the waves, which sank me to my knees. A vertigo more powerful than drunkenness grasped me, yet would not let me rest. I closed my eyes and thought I heard a faint tune.

‘The first thing we must do is make sure you go through the proper training of a Sleffion,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll go on to Centan where you may present your concerns to the human king. You mustn’t take the Sleffion gift or the full rank of A.S.T.R. lightly.’

Frustration flared in me at his words. I didn’t take them lightly—I was merely worried sick about my home. I wanted to protest, but the emperor’s mind was too strong. A hint of music flowed between us; so soothing and entrancing that I began to relax. It was like a steadying heartbeat with the shaking of a seed-pod and a slowly emerging clavichord, followed by pipeflutes and strings. Never before had I heard such diversity in music or been so entranced by it. Slowly the melody made itself known, pleasantly dramatic, underscoring my emotions.

My hatred for the Zeikas seemed petty and irrelevant in the presence of such a wise being, someone who had experienced the wrath of our enemies even more than I had. He understood the fierce loyalty I had for Jaria, just as he also perceived the deeper knowledge within me that Jaria itself had grown detached from other nations, which had weakened it. There was more to the current conflict than Jaria and Reltland alone.

The steadying heartbeat continued slowly, in time with Ciera’s own heartbeat, which was much slower than my own. The chorus was both poignant and uplifting and I felt a deep satisfaction each time the song built to the chorus. I found myself holding my breath waiting for it and then breathing out slowly when it played in Ciera’s mind. The emperor skyearl held me quietly until my emotions subsided.

‘What was that?’ I asked him.

A sense of love and hope flowed from him, enrapturing me. I waited long moments for his reply, the song still echoing between us.

‘It is Halduronlei,’ he replied, using the waves with me for the first time, ‘meaning “weatherstorm”. It is my soothing song, a focusing song I use to calm myself when the battle-fury is upon me; to learn to weather the storm of my emotions. All skyearls have a soothing song and it is usually their Sleffion who must make the music for them, not the other way around.’

His rebuke, though gentle, chastened me. Throughout my childhood, many in Jaria had complained about my temper, which was part of the reason I preferred solitude. Perhaps I did lack self-control.

Ciera turned my attention back to himself. Understanding and respect flowed through me and I realised I had a lot of learning to do before Ciera and I could properly bond. I also sensed that the emperor’s desire to help my people was almost as strong as my own. Even if the king of Tanza refused to ally with Jaria, Ciera would try to persuade him to do what he could to win their freedom.

Ciera thought that perhaps Tanza could buy their freedom or send someone to quietly get them out without connecting the rescue with Tanza.

‘We will do what we can for the survivors from Jaria when the time is right,’ he acknowledged.

Hope flowed through me.

Hearing the squeak of leather behind me, I glanced back. Sarlice stood behind me with her arms folded, looking up at the huge skyearl. Kestric and Rekala stopped in front of her as if to shield her from danger. Their tails twitched nervously and in the paradoxical manner of cats they exuded both wariness and ferocity. Rekala’s uncertainty coursed through the waves and Kestric’s lip curled up in a menacing snarl.

Ciera crouched down so his head was on their level and said, ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Rekala and Kestric.’

His words reverberated strongly through the waves as well as out loud. This was the first time Ciera had communicated through the waves. He had access to my wave abilities and was now able to converse with all Rada-kin. Likewise, because I was an Anzaii, Rekala would also be able to link with other Sleffion-kin once I had learned to.

Even though Rekala understood all of this from me, a rough growl rumbled from her throat at the unfamiliar voice and the enormous physical presence of the skyearl. Her logical mind was not yet developed enough to overcome the instinctive rejection of something so alien. Kestric’s ears flattened tight to his skull and he lifted his claws to strike.

Ciera took hold of the tigers through the waves and sent such an overwhelming sense of peace that the Rada-kin flopped into the grass looking puzzled. Their stripes shivered as if they were being bitten by flies. Ciera’s mental power and intellect outstripped my own, but it was his vast experience and the wisdom of centuries that empowered him the most.

‘Greetings Tiaro and Fyschs,’ Ciera said to the earring and the sword respectively. Each item sung back to him on the waves, emanating the pleasure and relaxation that was left over from the skyearl’s Soothing Song.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ Tiaro said, her fascination with his mien in the waves apparent. She perceived that even the skyearls’ magical abilities with shrouding were connected to the waves. It would take time for her to process everything from Ciera’s mind, but eventually I knew Tiaro would provide me with some valuable insights to the wonders of the Sleffion-kin.

I lay on my belly and encouraged Sarlice to do so as well. There was no way for us all to be included in the conversation because only Sarlice, Ciera and I could speak out loud. The others could converse on the waves, but only inasmuch as I could, so all my kin could interact with each other, but the only one who could interact directly with Sarlice and Henter was Kestric.

‘Your wave abilities may continue to expand,’ Tiaro said. ‘One day, you may be able to reach other people’s Sleffion-kin and Tolite-kin… perhaps even other humans. Then, you will be able to connect us all together in one wave conversation.’

‘Incredible,’ I replied.

I knew by the way Sarlice was looking at me that Kestric had passed on Tiaro’s words. I already felt dizzy from perceiving the awareness of each kin in the waves and the way they danced and swirled around me, connected to each other only through me.

‘So this is what it means to be Anzaii?’ I asked them collectively.

Their voices came back over the top of each other, trying to encourage me and lend their support. Eventually, Ciera’s voice won through.

‘You are on the path to becoming a master psion,’ he corrected. ‘An Anzaii is only as powerful on the waves as he is experienced with each of the other gifts. Over time, you must develop them all if you are to reach your full potential.’

I sensed relief from Rekala, who had been wondering if she was still as important to me as she had been in the early days. I reached out to ruffle the fur on top of her head.

‘Of course you are,’ I said. ‘You are my first kindred and no matter where we go, even if we are apart, we are connected.’

We lay there for some time getting used to Ciera. Throughout the encounter, the emperor skyearl held back his mind so as not to flood Rekala, Tiaro and I with new knowledge. Instead, he caused his vast experiences to seep through so that we had a chance to discuss the things we learned with Sarlice and Kestric and commit them to memory in our own unique ways.

By the time I looked up from our engagement, the day-star was setting. The rich, teal sky rippled in the distance with the strangely translucent, shiny skin of the barrier. Ruddy orange clouds clustered above the distant cliffs and the two moons waited patiently for night to fall.

Chapter Three—The Nine

Sarlice kicked the side of my foot, jolting me out of a reverie. We were in the middle of community gathering in the Hall of Hallows and I had been staring at an immense mural of a castle in the sky instead of listening to the announcements of Keryn Alger, the Duke of Lantaid. Everyone was now on their feet, so I stood up slowly. I stretched my arms, popping the joints loudly by accident. Sarlice stifled a laugh, several heads turned and a pale boy snickered.

Rekala and Kestric were clustered on a raised platform to one side with the other Rada-kin. There were water troughs, bales of hay and plush carpets for the comfort of the animals. Most of the kindred listened to the announcements of the humans and participated when they could. As the official-looking people up the front continued with their talk, Rekala and I allowed our thoughts to wander again.

Two days had passed since our first meeting with Ciera and since then we had scarcely seen him. He said he had urgent things to attend to before he could devote himself to us and it would be better to get them out of the way now. I sensed that the sudden change we represented to his life was both welcome and a burden. He was, after all, a being who had been alive for hundreds of years, doing whatever he willed. That he had climbed the ranks and become emperor spoke volumes about his ambition and leadership abilities. Among skyearls, Emperor was a democratic position, not an inherited one.

I wondered if newlyweds felt the same way—separate beings thrust into one life together and suddenly having to share everything.

Ciera’s priorities and motivations had begun to merge with Rekala’s, Tiaro’s and mine, leaving us all trying to sort out where that left us. My bonding with Rekala hadn’t been anywhere near as complicated, because she had come into the civilised world through me. Rekala brought few desires of her own save filling her belly and snoozing for as much of the day as she could.

Ciera, on the other hand, had countless responsibilities to the people of Lantaid and other parts of Tanza as well as the thousands of Sleffion-kin he knew personally. Ciera was sought daily by high-ranking members of the three Kriite labour guilds—the speakers, the warriors and the harvesters.

Everything from organising skyearl events to providing enough resources for the various sky kingdoms to stay operational. Defensive strategists and flight training instructors wanted his input. Where he couldn’t spare the time he always knew exactly who to delegate the task to.

My desire to get help for Jaria and Lyth had pushed its way forward in his mind, but also now I perceived a bigger picture. For the time being, our quest to speak with the king of Tanza was on hold.

Using his new access to the waves, Ciera had contacted the Sleffion-kin of the royal couple’s chief scribe, a lady by the name of Skylien. Ciera had been assured that the king and queen would attend to us soon after our arrival in Centan to discuss the needs of Jaria and Lyth.

The sense of urgency that had driven me thus far had diminished somewhat, to be replaced by a sick feeling of dread. It was too late now for trade agreements—all I could hope for was Tanza’s charity and its willingness to send a rescue party.

Those Jarians who were enslaved were completely uncontactable—they and their Rada-kin were probably warded—but I had been in contact with the escapees. Namal had led the group of about 60 into the grotto and collapsed the tunnel behind them. With supplies from the emergency stash, they were travelling through the darkness, rationing the torch oil, water and food.

The journey was slow because more than half of the party were children, and many of the rest were elders and the sick or injured. There were also seven women with babies under a year old and two pregnant women, so the group had to pause every few hours. Though their situation wasn’t desperate, it was uncomfortable and many of them were sick with worry or grief.

‘They’re strong people,’ Rekala counselled me. ‘They’ll get through this and make their way to Lyth.’

With a sigh, I put aside my concerns—Ciera had bidden me to wait until we went to Centan.

I brought my attention back to the room I was in, confirming to myself I hadn’t missed anything important. Something off to the side of the dais caught my eye. I sensed Rekala sit up to get a better view as a pair of women about my age carried out a small golden cabinet with a gilded and etched glass front. Inside hung an ancient scroll with spidery black words written in straight lines.

‘This is the oldest scroll of Kaslonica we now possess,’ Duke Alger announced. ‘It was unearthed in the Chilwen ruins two seasons ago by ritualists and has been meticulously translated and cross-referenced with our other copies of this book to produce an even more accurate version. As most of you know, a team of scribes recently completed over a hundred copies of this history scroll. They will be available after the announcements at no cost, but if you wish to contribute to their work, you are, of course, welcome to place an offering in the ritualists’ pot.’

He held up a large silver pot, which was engraved with the sigil of the ritualists. Not exactly a guild of their own, the group operated a little bit like the speakers, warriors and harvesters, recruiting members who showed an aptitude for spiritual work. Unlike the guilds, ritualists were encouraged to renounce their membership in guilds to focus completely on their new purpose.

‘I wonder what else is new about this version,’ I whispered to Sarlice.

She nodded, sharing my curiosity. From time to time, the Jarian scribes announced the acquisition of new Kriite history scrolls, usually when fragments were recovered from far off lands, verified and integrated with our master texts. I wondered how much the Jarian history scrolls differed from the Tanzan history scrolls. Although Tanzans were banned from entering Telby, that hadn’t stopped ambassadors like myself from journeying to Tanza and back again several times over the past decade.

‘There are places revealed in here…’ Duke Alger tapped the golden cupboard, ‘that should interest all Kriites, but are especially relevant to those with kindred. We each have a duty to study the waves and determine how the Ancient Sapphire Trees can help us in the days to come, not just ritualists. Those without psionic powers can support the rest. The Zeikas are massing against us, so now, more than ever, is a time for us to be steadfast in our minds and strong in our understanding of the waves.’

On our way out of the Hall of Hallows Sarlice and I eagerly picked up a copy of the new Tanzan history scroll, and dropped a donation into the box for the scribes. A tiny orange skyearl peered at us from his perch on the scribes’ table.

‘Newcomers from Telby are you?’ he squawked, forming the words with an accent similar to Ciera’s but a more high-pitched voice. I couldn’t help comparing the skyearl to Ciera, even though he wasn’t much bigger than one of Ciera’s eyes. The differences in their size and colouring was vast, but for all that they looked very much the same, right down to the shiny domes on the tiny skyearl’s snout. Sarlice nodded and offered him one finger, which he shook vigorously with both of his dexterous little forepaws.

‘Found your Sleffion-kin yet?’ he queried.

‘Not I,’ Sarlice replied, ‘but there’s nought to say I actually will. Talon here has, with Emperor Ciera. Say, you’re not bonded yet either, are you?’

‘Nope,’ he acknowledged, cocking his head and scrutinizing her with one golden eye. There was a long silence as the two stared at one another. The people crowding around the table seemed to fade out of their awareness. I looked from one to the other, appreciating how the rich orange of the skyearl’s fur matched Sarlice’s coppery-bronze hair.

‘Your name is Sarlice, isn’t it?’ the skyearl chirruped happily.

My guide’s body went even stiller. ‘Aye, and you are Thita.’

‘How did you…’ The words died on my lips as I realised there was only one way they could have deciphered each other’s names without ever speaking them.

The tiny orange skyearl flew suddenly to Sarlice’s shoulder and snuffled her hair. She stroked his back and he crooned into her and rubbed his jaw along her cheek, scent-marking like a cat. The claws of his four tiny feet clutched at her upper arm and his feathered wings were flapping.

‘I have a strange and wonderful sense about you…’ A smile, if it could be called that, creased the line of his mouth upward. ‘I never knew what it would feel like to finally meet my own Sleffion-kin.’

‘Nor I,’ Sarlice replied, staring at him in fascination.

‘Velkin, will you take over for me, please?’ Thita asked of a human-sized skyearl in the crowd. ‘I’ve just met my Sleffion-kin!’

‘Congratulations,’ Velkin replied, shuffling between people on his hind legs until he reached the table. He opened the coin chest Thita had been using and began taking money from those eager to make a donation for the new history scroll.

Sarlice was already moving outside with Thita, her interest in the new scroll temporarily forgotten. I followed them, torn between my anticipation for the scroll and my joy for Sarlice’s new kin. Rekala wended her way through the forest of people around her and butted her head against my hip. I stroked her forehead affectionately and chuffed to her in greeting. When I looked up Sarlice and Thita were completely engrossed in conversation, so I decided to take a peek at the manuscript.

The scroll was bound with green ribbons and encased in a nyno-scale tube. The first piece of parchment I unrolled contained a list of chapters in the book and a preface explaining what had been changed in this version of the history. Even in Jaria it had been impossible to find a complete book of Kriite history. Not only were some ancient writings lost to time, but the banishment of the Tanzans from Telby had caused the destruction of countless Kriite texts.

I held my breath as I unrolled the scroll, and scanned for the list of Ancient Sapphire Trees and their location. Since Namal had shown me that there was one in the Catacombs of Krii in Naioteio, I had been wondering about the other eight. The list in this history scroll was ambiguous, but at least I now understood its significance. It read:

The magnificent birds bore each seed swiftly to its place on Chryne; one to the Council of Water, one to the City of Snow, one to the Land of a Thousand Perils, one to the Spring of Understanding, one to the Running Rock, one to the Shrouded Forest, one to the Plain of Slaughter, one to the Sister’s Hand, and one to the Cauldron of Storms.

That the text did not reveal where the Nine Trees were was deliberate. Kriites had to keep this a secret to protect them. With one hand on the Jarian belt I took a deep breath, feeling certain I had some part to play in strengthening our understanding of the waves.

I was so engrossed in the history scroll that I didn’t see Tivac until he was patting me on the back. ‘I just heard the news, Talon. Congratulations! It will be the talk of the town—nay, the realm—for seasons. What a tremendous honour to have the Emperor Ciera for your Sleffion-kin. These are notable days, my friend, and I’m sure glad to be alive to see them.’

I chuckled nervously at his enthusiasm. Sarlice, Thita and Kestric joined us and Tivac blinked in surprise when he realised Sarlice had also become a Sleffion.

‘So soon for both of you!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thita, how wonderful for you to have met your match.’

‘Indeed it is,’ the small skyearl replied, gnawing at the feathers on one of his wings.

‘Will you all be attending the Bonding Ceremony that’s on this afternoon?’ he asked us.

My hopes flared. ‘I didn’t know there was one.’

‘We could,’ said Thita, nuzzling into Sarlice’s red-bronze hair. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time, why wait another day?’

‘How long have you been waiting?’ Sarlice asked.

He tapped one tiny claw against the fingers of his other forepaw, counting. ‘One hundred and twenty-four years.’ Skyearls matured at around a hundred years of age then aged more slowly.

Sarlice, Thita and Kestric made an impressive sight; the flame-furred firetiger, the bright orange skyearl and Sarlice with her rich, bronze hair. I wondered at the colours of my Rada-kin and my new Tolite and Sleffion-kin too; all mostly blue.

Sarlice and I had known each other for only a short time, but in that time we had both grown and changed. Here I was, an R.A.S.T. and she an R.S.T. Since coming together, our lives seemed to have converged into a single path which sped up and strengthened with our combined destinies. It seemed that Jaria and Lyth could no longer be our main focus.

Ciera’s mind touched mine. He was helping a group of large skyearls build a bridge over the other side of town. He spoke openly through the waves so both Thita and I could hear.

‘Are you ready to cast off your independence this very afternoon, Thita?’ Ciera asked wryly.

I couldn’t sense Thita’s reaction through the waves, but he spread his wings and wrapped them around Sarlice’s head in a gesture of love. Unable to see, she flailed her hands about comically, causing a gathering of children nearby to laugh.

‘You know I am ready to bond,’ I told Ciera.

‘Ha! You barely know what it is,’ came his reply.

I could almost see the teasing squint of his eyes, teeth bared and shining against the blue fur of his muzzle. Ciera had a well-developed sense of humour and tolerance.

‘It wasn’t always thus,’ he sent.

I realised my youthful impatience was becoming somewhat of a joke between us.

He, on the other hand, had mixed feelings about the loss of his independence. Part of him was uncertain about the future of the skyearls since there was no obvious replacement for him if he abdicated his role as emperor. Part of him was tired of being unbound and therefore somewhat incomplete.

He was pleased that his final twenty or so years would be spent with his own Sleffion. In some ways, it was as if life was finally starting for him. He hefted a large wooden strut down the length of his back and moved it into place beneath the bridge. I decided to leave him to it.

‘Ciera is working, even now,’ I told Tivac, ‘but he is willing to put it off for the Bonding Ceremony.’

‘Tivac, what is a Sleffion Bonding Ceremony like?’ Sarlice asked.

He winked at her. ‘You’ll see.’

Chapter Four—The Bonding Ceremony

We rode out of Lantaid with a company of two dozen riders. Sarlice and Duria rode ahead with Tivac on a dun pony. Tivac, who was not a horseman, preferred the more docile (albeit stubborn) nature of ponies. His mount picked its way lazily across the green hillocks. The leaders of the company disappeared through a stand of gorse bushes at what appeared to be the edge of a cliff.

As Fleetfoot reached the spot, I felt the rush of open air against my face. A cavernous gorge opened before us. It was surrounded by enormous cliff faces, dotted with greenery and fallen rocks. Into the distance, down the length of the gorge, was a thin waterfall and river. A gentle breeze flowed up out of the chasm, carrying the faint, wild scents of river and forest.

Tivac’s mount moved expertly down the rocky track. Duria tossed her head at each rolling pebble and kept pulling against the reins. Sarlice leaned well back in the saddle so that her weight was on the mare’s hind legs.

Miles below was a gathering of onlookers—humans, skyearls and other animals. The gorge was like a rock bowl cut into the side of a small mountain. At one end, striped crags towered over it. On our side was a steep, rocky cliff-face with clusters of trees and small plants on either side of the track.

In the middle of the bowl was a wooden stage, which was covered with carvings of skyearls and humans. More onlookers were arriving by air or cloud at every moment. Apparently all those who were bonded with a skyearl already had other ways of getting into the Bonding Canyon.

Skyearls of all shapes and sizes spiralled through the air above the gorge. Those skyearls who were too small to bear their Sleffion down on their backs performed small shroudings. I watched with fascination as the tiniest skyearls flew in complex patterns through the sky, forming a trail of mist in their paths.

The mist became denser and denser until, at the very centre, a mystical white substance formed. Humans walked down through the shroud from the very top of the gorge. It looked ridiculous to my eyes, but I kept my thoughts to myself to avoid playing the part of an utter newbie.

‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ Ciera said. ‘Keltoars are born with an aptitude for shrouding, but after three hundred and three years of doing it I am considered the Master Builder.’

He waited down on the stage, easily taking up a quarter of it with his massive body. As if bored, he was puffing out little gusts of steam, which quickly solidified into white disks that floated off in different directions. A group of at least thirty human children were chasing them in circles in front of the stage. A dozen skyearl whelps flew in their midst, playfully snatching the disks and spinning them in new directions. Some of the whelps were larger than Thita.

Besides Sarlice and I, there were two other humans bonding today: Devlan and Gieri. Only Sarlice and I were also Rada. Rekala and Kestric stayed with the horses, respectfully keeping their distance.

Soon after Sarlice, Devlan, Gieri and I had made our way to the stage horns started to blow. On every face of the gorge, a conical, U-shaped tunnel was cut into the rock. Large skyearls stood below each tunnel and blew into one end of the U. It produced a strange hum, which was soon taken up by countless voices across the canyon.

A choir of skyearls formed around the stage in a circle. They sang a complex melody to go with the background hum. Their voices were like those of a human male choir. Even the females had a husky baritone hum.

As I watched and listened I noticed that each skyearl only sang one portion of the song. Together they created a complex whirlwind of canons. My entire body vibrated with the wistful, enchanting sound and I allowed my lungs to fill with air and my thoughts to calm. Tension that I had been holding onto for days melted away and a sense of relief and hope suffused me.

During the song Ciera gently sifted through my mind, poking a memory here, lifting up an old hurt there, examining my motivations and ambitions. He noticed something pending about my relationship with Sarlice but, understanding humans far better than Rekala did, he left it alone. Presently, he invited me to investigate his memories and thoughts.

Looking upon his mind was like standing at the edge of a canyon ten times the size of this one. I felt so tiny and out-of-place. I was so insignificant when viewed through the lens of centuries, yet to Ciera I was important. The most profound thing I found in Ciera’s mind was such resilience. With a maturity I could barely comprehend he embraced weakness, change and tribulation, believing even the harshest trials he’d endured to be a natural part of life’s tapestry.

I rejoiced in the knowledge that I could grow so much with Ciera as my Sleffion-kin. When we were each satisfied that what we were doing was truly in alignment with our inner selves we sat down on the stage. The singing continued around us as the other initiates strained to find each other in the waves.

Sarlice’s face was screwed up in concentration as she tried to make contact with her new Sleffion-kin. Over the next hour, I conversed privately with Ciera about everything from our favourite foods to the most boring ceremonies we’d ever had to attend. He chuckled mentally.

Eventually, the others sat, too. Sarlice was beaming and kept reaching out to stroke Thita’s fur. One of the horn-blowing dragons ceased his tune. Ciera broke the skyearl song with a low, rumbling howl and a series of growl-grunts. The singers fell silent, allowing Ciera’s skyearl words to echo from wall to wall. The skyearls and their whelps stood with rapt attention, heads pointing in his direction. He continued to growl-grunt.

Escotia, a ritualist in her mid-fifties, was waiting at the front of the stage.

In a loud voice she repeated what Ciera was saying in the Telbion-Tanzan language. I already knew what he had said:

‘Welcome to this Bonding Ceremony of four new kin pairs.
As you all know, Tanza has thrived for centuries with the blessing of the Ancient Sapphire Trees. Skyearls who are fortunate enough to become Sleffion-kin are among the privileged protectors of the Kriite people—along with the Anzaii-kin, Tolite-kin and Rada-kin. Together we are known as kindred.

‘It is only through the waves that our humans make best use of the Kriite magic that bonds us. We each must strive for improvement, build our knowledge and support others to do the same.

‘We skyearls are masters of the sky and of the element of water. Many of us have the ability to breathe out shrouds and the magical solid platforms we use to build kingdoms in the sky. There are those of you here today—skyearl and human—without kindred of your own. Do not be discouraged, for you are valued individuals, each and every one of you. We all have a part to play in the safety of the realm.

‘Today we welcome four new human beings into a bonded relationship with their Sleffion-kin. From this day on we will serve you, feel your emotions, hear your thoughts. We will carry you on the strength of our wings, and our shrouds if we are able. We will defend you with our very lives for we are skyearls.’

When Ciera was finished, there was a cheer made up of human and skyearl voices.

Escotia announced, ‘I now present Devlan the Sleffion, bonded with Guardian Rinshock. They are bonded on this the 119^th day of the 700^th year.’

A pair of red sashes was handed to the boy standing next to me. He slung one across his shoulder and beneath the other arm then approached Rinshock with the other. The black and silver skyearl bowed his head and allowed Devlan to tie the sash around his neck, a symbol of both his servitude and his ties to the human.

‘I now present Gieri the Sleffion, Tolite, bonded this day with Scout Annaseld. They are bonded on this the 119^th day of the 700^th year.’

Gieri was given a pair of white sashes—white for the scouts, I presumed—and she donned hers as Devlan had.

Sarlice gave me a look of excitement as her turn approached. The boy waiting on the side of the stage had a pair of blue sashes and a pair of yellow. Judging by the sizes of the skyearl sashes the yellow one was for Thita and the blue for Ciera.

‘I now present Sarlice the Sleffion, Tolite, Rada,’ Escotia announced. ‘She is bonded this day with Strategist Thita. They are bonded on this the 119^th day of the 700^th year.’

Sarlice stepped forward, accepted the sashes and put them on. Thita shivered with delight at her touch and fluttered happily around her head when she was finished. The tiny sash fell off his neck and Sarlice gave an embarrassed squawk and hurried to reaffix it. Escotia smiled at her and waited. When my guide was finished, the interpreter resumed her serious expression and spoke in a voice that boomed loudly in my skull.

‘Finally, I give you Rada, Anzaii, Sleffion, Tolite, Taeon—’ A raucous of gasps and talk was followed by roars of delight and cheering. ‘That’s right, we now have a master psion among us! Taeon is bonded with Emperor Ciera. They are bonded on this the 119^th day of the 700^th year of the age.’

Hearing my true name announced I decided it was time to start using it again. Time to put the scars from childhood behind me.

I accepted the blue sash for myself and carefully wrapped it around my body and over one shoulder. The sash for Ciera was as wide as a bed sheet, twice as long and very heavy. I marvelled at the amount of work that would have gone into its weaving. On one side of it was a gold-painted leather strap and the other was stitched with links of gold. Gems dangled from the links in such a way that they would become like a chest adornment on Ciera. With a grateful nod to its bearer, I hefted the material and threw it over my Sleffion-kin’s lowered neck. I fastened it using the inbuilt hooks and eyelets and patted Ciera’s thick, furred neck.

Ciera howled my name in a triumphant roar. Without a word to me he hoisted me off the ground with one clawed hand and set me on his back. A puff of mist surrounded us, his back legs bunched and my gigantic Sleffion-kin somehow launched into the sky. I scrabbled for a handhold, my stomach lurched and my heart drummed. I struggled to find a secure position on my knees. It was nothing like riding a horse—because of the keltoar’s size, straddling his back was impossible. Desperate for purchase I grabbed Ciera’s fur with both hands.

‘You’ve got it,’ Ciera reassured me, sensing my near-panic.

He bore me into empty space and I could no longer see Sarlice and Rekala. We ascended slowly as Ciera’s wings beat, making use of the winds rising from the canyon. It seemed impossibly difficult.

‘Is the magic of shrouding what’s keeping you in the air?’ I asked.

‘At my size, shrouds are usually needed to get into the air, but it’s not too difficult staying up here. Not all skyearls have good use of shrouds. Without a good updraft those have to take a run up or jump from a high place. We also have latticed bones, like a bird.’

We rose slowly but steadily until we reached a dizzying height. I shuffled forward so I could grab the gold strap, wishing there was something holding me on. Ciera laid his wings flat and plummeted down towards the canyon. My insides gave a sickening, yet delicious, swoop. The hair on my arms stood up.

Wind streamed around me, deafening me. The ground seemed to be growing larger at an alarming rate. At the last possible moment Ciera curved in an arc and used his momentum to carry him upwards. Sensing my fear turn to thrills he gave a whoop of delight. The crowd cheered. Devlan and Gieri and their Sleffion-kin, Rinshock and Annaseld, flew up to join us.

Ciera swooped down and up again. It was a magnificent feeling, bringing back the faintest memories of being swung around someone’s head as a child, smiling and laughing.

‘I don’t know what’s taking Thita so long,’ Ciera said.

The orange skyearl shot suddenly into the air and a trail of cloud followed him. He flew up and around in many loops until the sky was knotted with shrouds. Sarlice put her foot on the first solid substance inside the shroud and climbed. Thita had made a kind of white stair inside his shroud.

Rinshock, Annaseld and Ciera danced through the air, weaving around Thita’s loops but keeping a safe distance from Sarlice. She seemed awfully vulnerable out there, walking through the sky. It was a good thing she was fit.

Once she had climbed to the top, Sarlice ran the length of Thita’s shroud and peered excitedly over the edge. Thita cavorted around her, delighting in his newfound human. Ciera gave a great laugh of affection.

‘Sarlice will never ride the back of her Sleffion-kin, but Thita is skilled with shrouding.’

Without warning, Sarlice dived off the edge of the shroud into the vast expanse of sky beneath her. Dread stabbed me so hard that it made Ciera flip around. His wings made a slapping sound as the wind buffeted us. Thita zipped beneath Sarlice’s falling body. A layer of shrouding appeared beneath her. It seemed to be falling at nearly the same speed. It slowed her fall and eventually stopped it altogether. She got to her feet with an expression of elation.

Rinshock and Annaseld formed a figure-of-eight in the sky and picked up speed until their forms became blurred. In the distance behind them I saw a dark, winged shape.

Feeling no nausea at the sight of the bird, I told Ciera, ‘I have conquered my fear.’

He turned to look at the bird and a sense of alarm flowed through the waves. Had I spoken too soon? Tiaro sparkled to life. Ciera roared and spread his wings. He struck out at an angle away from the bird, but he found a current of wind up high that sent us in a straight line towards it. The landscape below us looked like a platter of food, salted with small towns and peppered with dark rainforests. Ciera roared again. This time the sense of alarm came directly from him.

That was no bird.

It was a Zeika trespasser.

The dragon wheeled when it spotted us and flew back the way it had come. Ciera chased the dragon until his wings were aching. He soared on and on. No matter what I said, he would not stop and rest. I could feel my Anzaii-kin rolling out of her slumber, drawn awake by the Zeika magic.

Ciera had called for help through the waves, but so far no other skyearls had been able to keep up with us. The distance between us and the dragon was gradually decreasing.

‘We’re gaining on him,’ he said. ‘The Zeika’s concentration must be wearing thin.’

‘We’re too far away for me to tell,’ Tiaro lamented.

His words were shot through with pain from his straining wings. A painful contraction tore through his wing.

Panic!

His body twitched sideways and down, falling, twisting. He tucked in his other wing and duck-dived. I couldn’t see the ground for the clouds, but I could imagine what it would be like to hit it from this height.

Ciera struggled with the cramped limb. My breath whooshed out of me and I clenched my fists tightly around the gold strap. Ciera shook himself and finally opened his wings.

Ciera’s dive turned into a graceful curve that swept us upwards again. The dragon was a speck in the middle-distance. The great cliffs of Tanza were visible through gaps in the clouds. The sheer wall of rock was topped by a veil of purple that shimmered against the teal sky. I hadn’t realised how close we were to the boundary, or rather, how fast Ciera could fly. The dragon shot over the border with alarming speed and disappeared into the distance. Ciera blew out a great wisp of cloud and landed on it to rest.

‘I’m sorry to take you away from the Bonding Ceremony,’ he said, ‘but I needed to be sure that dragon was only a scout.’

‘How can you be sure now?’ I asked.

‘If there was a Zeika camp inside the borders of Tanza, that dragon would have headed straight for it. The Zeika on its back will need to land very soon or he risks losing his concentration.’

‘That sounds similar to when a Rada morphs,’ I observed.

Ciera regarded me thoughtfully. ‘Yes. But when a dragon rider loses his concentration, the conjured dragon vanishes and he falls to his death.’

‘Can’t they simply conjure the dragon and send it off flying and look through its eyes while they stay safely on the ground?’

Ciera nodded his enormous head. ‘Yes, far-conjurers can. But they are fewer and most cannot do it from any great distance.’

‘I thought the borders of Tanza were protected,’ I said after a while. If not, then what was the barrier shield for?

‘They are, or the Zeikas would be pouring in here by the dozen. As it stands, they usually take some time to create a strong enough spirit circle to break the barrier. For one scout to get through, it probably would have required a large amount of blood from a Kriite.’

‘Why would the founders of Tanza have made a barrier that could be broken by Kriite blood?’ I asked.

‘There is magic in your blood,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘just as there is in mine. The demon lord, Zeidarb, knows its power. By ingesting or covering themselves in our blood the Zeikas can trick the barrier shield that a Kriite is passing through.’

‘You don’t seem too surprised by that scout,’ I observed.

‘Our spies tell us that with enough blood, the Zeikas can get a whole squadron of tyraks through.’

I recoiled from him, with a look of outrage. ‘How can you allow it? Turn off the barrier shield altogether.’

‘Do you think our military so powerful?’ He shook his massive head. ‘The shield is all that stands between us and annihilation. If it were ever to come down, the Zeikas would attack us constantly until the entire realm was in ruin.’

‘What are you doing about it then?’

‘Tanza’s army, the defenders, employs many scouts to interrupt the Zeika raiding parties. There are reports every few days of such encounters. We do everything in our power to disallow it, but every now and then a few scouts or a group of Zeikas get through. Sometimes the Zeikas launch a campaign against us and entire armies get in. If it weren’t for that shield, we would not be here today.’

I thought on this for a long time as we waited for him to recover from the flight. Perhaps one of the reasons the tribes of Jaria and Lyth had diminished, and Kriites had scattered into the protection of other nations, was because the Zeikas had been harvesting us for our blood. This could have been going on for years. I wondered if the masters of Jaria had known. They were in contact with other Kriite nations, such as Tanza. Surely they had known. It was me who had been ignorant. After a while, Ciera went on speaking.

‘We fight the Zeikas off every few years, but over time they have gradually grown stronger. In many of our cities, the last war campaign nearly spelled their doom. The Zeikas killed tens of thousands. You will find many ruins around Tanza—despite the protective barrier. Our people have realised they are safer in well-fortified towns.’

I fidgeted and looked at my feet. The ground was like spongy, white clay. It was wet from the mist of the shrouding. The fog rose up to my knees, leaving the legs of my pants damp.

We watched the day-star set over the western horizon and I tried to imagine what it would be like to watch it from the tops of the Kiayr Range. Would the day-star look the same over the other side of the world?

When he had rested, Ciera allowed me to climb up his shoulder and perch on his back. He spread his wings and took a flying leap off the shroud. The shroud dissipated, the harder substance broke into small pieces and rained down. Gaining flight was much easier from this height. Ciera simply flapped his wings in the air currents and let them carry him towards Lantaid. When I looked back, the shroud was gone.

Chapter Five—Past and Future

Along with Devlan and Gieri, Sarlice and I were expected to spend some time learning about Tanzan history and culture. The morning of our thirteenth day of learning was a struggle for both of us. Two weeks had passed and we didn’t seem to be any nearer to moving on to Centan to speak with the king.

Although Jaria was already lost, the Rada of Lyth and other parts of the world still had a chance. Sarlice kept quiet about it most of the time but I knew she still had a burning desire to find allies for her father. I was already convinced by recent developments that this fight could end up involving far more people than just the Rada.

Ciera was aware of my thoughts and reassured me he was working as fast as he could to tie up loose ends, finish off projects and speed things along for us. He was eager to get to Centan and join the human leaders of Tanza in working out what to do about the current Zeika threat.

Sarlice and I were in the guest room at the Hall of Hallows, each brushing the fur of our Rada-kin. Rekala and Kestric basked in the attention, making it plain they had not enjoyed becoming second-fiddle to our new Sleffion-kin.

‘I have Fyschs and Tiaro to contend with, as well,’ Rekala complained, snuffling against my hand, then licking it with her rasping tongue.

‘I’m sorry, Rekala,’ I sighed, ‘but nobody will ever replace you. How could they?’

She rubbed the side of her head against my leg, nearly pushing me over.

‘What is Ciera up to today?’ Sarlice asked me.

‘He is training a team of skyearls to take over what he’s been doing here for the past two seasons. He knows we need to get through the training quickly and move on to Centan.’

She nodded. ‘There is still hope for Lyth. Kestric tells me that the Lythian Rada have not seen more Zeikas than usual in the south.’

‘That’s odd,’ I said after a moment’s thought. ‘Reltland is so far south you would think the Zeikas would be more interested in conquering the southern lands. They’ve already taken Nooneagle. Why not overtake Jesath, Lyth, Siffre, Duuryn and Irin? That would give them ample resources for whatever they’re trying to accomplish.’

‘They desire Tanza and Telby,’ Sarlice said firmly. ‘The lands of the south are cut off from the north by the Barh Desert. To get from Reltland to Telby City involves a trek of a season or more around the Barh Desert, almost to the borders of Duuryn. From Tanza it would be a matter of weeks.’

‘And why do they want Telby,’ I pondered, ‘its size and wealth?’

She stopped brushing Kestric and stared me straight in the eye. ‘It is the ideal location for the building of an empire. With the mobility of the dragons at their disposal, the Zeikas will have every mine and farm in Telby under their control. They’d be in an ideal position to take and keep every nation from Naioteio to Siffre. Where King Flale’s predecessors failed, they will succeed.

‘They will fatten the ranks of their armies and dominate the people of the world until all realms are under the rule of Reltland. They hope to expand the influence of Zei to all nations.’

I stared at her, horrified by the simplicity with which she outlined our doom. She let her stern expression drop and resumed grooming the firetiger.

‘There must be something we can do to stop them,’ I said.

‘Communication is our greatest advantage,’ she pointed out. ‘The A.S.T.R. gifts allow us to communicate over impressive distances. Even if it’s just between towns within one realm, that’s instant mind-to-mind communication. The Zeikas don’t have that.’

‘No, but they do have scryers,’ I replied.

She wagged her finger at me. ‘Ah but scryers can only spy over very short distances and they have to mark the person or place they want to scry beforehand. To my knowledge they cannot hear. They can only see.’

‘They can always enslave Anzaii, Sleffion or Rada to relay messages by threatening to kill others,’ I responded. ‘I’m certain that’s what happened to some of the stolen Jarians.’

‘How?’ she asked.

‘The very first level of Zeika initiation is a warder,’ I began. ‘Wards can be used to block the use of our magic. They just ward one relayer, tell their message to the other and get them to send it. Then they ward the second relayer and get the receiver at the other end to repeat it back to the first relayer to ensure the message was received unaltered.’

She stuck out her bottom lip and nodded, seemingly impressed. A slight flush covered the olive brown skin of her face and her deep blue eyes held mine. For a moment, I couldn’t look away. Henter was strapped to her back alongside a quiver of black arrows. It reminded me of the desperate dash I had made to retrieve her Tolite-kin and the rest of our gear just over seven weeks ago. It seemed like a much longer period of time than that.

‘You’re wearing your warbow,’ I observed.

‘I try not to go anywhere without Henter,’ she responded, ‘and we’ve got a meeting with a historian in five minutes.’

‘You may yet need a warbow to get us out of that,’ I returned.

She gave me a small smile and gestured to get up. With a groan, I dragged myself up and pulled on a loose white shirt that was crisscrossed from torso to neck with leather rope. I strapped on my sheath and slid Fyschs into it.

My heart raced as Sarlice stepped up to me, but she merely flicked a speck of dirt off my shoulder. I watched the light bouncing off her hair as she walked away from me.

Rekala sensed the racing of my blood, but she clamped down on her curiosity, leaving me to my thoughts. Together, the four of us exited our quarters and made our way through the Hall of Hallows. Once outside, the warmth of the day beat down upon us and I wished I could go shirtless again. It was humid in this low land. Our feet crunched on the rocky ground.

‘We’ve been invited to celebrate the Lunar Festival with the locals in two weeks’ time,’ Sarlice said.

‘Very well,’ I murmured, not sure how I felt about that. It was nice of the Lantaideans to include us, but I was still raw from the loss of Jaria where I had celebrated most of the Lunar Festivals of my young life.

Aside from New Day, these five days were the most important days of the year for Kriites all over the world. Day one was when the two moons were the furthest apart of the festival. This was generally a day of solitary reflection and fasting.

The middle three days featured the coming together of family and friends, intensifying and growing in size to symbolise the impending joining of the two moons.

Finally Capril would pass in front of Naeva in the sky, partly obscuring it. The fifth day of the Lunar Festival was a jovial celebration in commemoration of this joining. It was a popular day for couples to get married or new bond-mates to come together.

Our ‘meeting with a historian’ turned out to be a three-hour-long seminar on the battle readyness of Tanza by someone from the warriors guild. In Tanza the warriors were more often referred to as the defender army.

Devlan and Gieri were among the twenty or so citizens participating. Sarlice and I sat on two intricately carved wooden chairs and the two Rada-kin lay at our feet. After a few minutes, a man with long greying hair and a beard came to stand at the front of the room.

‘My name is Benzar,’ he began, in an earnest voice. ‘I’m a father of six, grandfather of two and my skyearl died five years ago in battle. I am an Anzaii, Sleffion and I have been a statistician for Tanza’s army, the defenders, for thirty years. It won’t surprise you, then, that the first thing I want you to learn is the importance of gathering population and army statistics.’

There was a humorous murmur among the audience. Benzar’s way of speaking included many short pauses and piercing looks.

‘At the last estimation,’ he began, ‘the population of Tanza was over 1.3 million with significantly more men than women. The biggest cities were Centan, with over 50,000 inhabitants, Lowford: 23,000 and Condii: 22,000. Most of the population live in between the towns and work the fields and forest.’

‘I’d wager you discarded the latest stats for Lantaid,’ a brightly-dressed man called out from my left.

‘Aye, Paetlan, we may as well have,’ Benzar affirmed. Looking back at the rest of us, he explained, ‘Paetlan is from Watercrag. In recent times, Lantaid’s population more than doubled with the inclusion of the refugees from Watercrag, many of whom are Tolites skilled in weapon-craft. We don’t know for sure, but estimates of the new population of Lantaid City are around 24,000 and the surrounding farmlands have another 150,000.’

Benzar went on. ‘The statistics we have of Tanza’s army, the defenders, are much more exact. Knowing precisely how many skyearls, human-warriors and animal-kin are available in one place, at one time and what skills they have, is vital to planning Tanza’s strategies of defence.’

He spoke at length about these groups and the various ways they were deployed as part of the defender army. Tanza had 57,000 warriors, and psionic strike forces were implemented during battles, as needed. As much as Tanzans would prefer to remain peaceful, the Zeikas relentlessly sought to take their lands.

Throughout Tanza’s history, the Zeikas had invaded dozens of times and even managed to take control of the low-population, coastal cities of Lokshole and Lander’s Bay four times. How they were getting through the barrier was a matter of extreme secrecy, and that’s all Benzar would say about that. Ciera and the king and queen had personally led the force that had retaken those cities three years ago. In an effort to rid their land of Zeikas once and for all, they had shown no mercy.

With Anzaii teaming up to dispel the Zeika conjurations and magic effects, the defenders had cornered and killed more than 20,000 Zeikas. Less than half that number had managed to escape aback their conjured dragons. The funeral pyres had burned for weeks and great pillars had been erected to celebrate the victory and remember those who had perished.

After that battle, a new appointment of high commander had been created. The nine commanders who had lead their battle groups of some 3000 each were awarded land and fortresses at the nine major cities of Tanza except for Centan: Kovain, New Rosenvale, Lowford, Highford, Zoen, Solix, Vassen, Lantaid and Condii. This ensured their ability to keep and train their battle groups in preparation for future attacks on any of the major cities.

The chain of command went from the king and queen to the prince and princess to the high commander, to the commanders and then to the unit commanders.

The A.S.T.R. rankings ran parallel and supported the chain of command. An A.S.T. commander held more authority than an S.T. commander. There was an authority level points system whereby Anzaii counted for 15 points, Sleffion for 10, Tolite for 5 and Rada for 5, meaning an A.S. commander ranked higher than an S.T.R. commander. Those without gifts weren’t excluded from a position of command, but those with A.S.T.R. ranks often got promoted sooner.

The status of the skyearls was generally independant of the position of their human Sleffion-kin, but the two often ran in parallel. As the elected emperor, Ciera led the skyearls and was due the same level of respect as the high commander. He was allowed to give orders to human commanders and lower ranks, but among skyearls he was free to ask anyone to do his bidding.

I wondered what authority I was entitled to simply by being Ciera’s kin. Until I knew more about the defenders I decided not to test it.

When Benzar called an end to the seminar, Sarlice and I walked to the Tolite barracks in the new part of town. Tivac had arranged a series of sword-fighting lessons for me, and Sarlice had offered to help.

‘Do we have to do this?’ I moaned. ‘I am going to reveal my weakness to everyone.’

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re not weak.’

‘You know what I mean. When it comes to swordplay I haven’t got any finesse.’

‘All the more reason to learn how to wield your new sword.’

I followed her, muttering to myself that Sarlice’s Tolite-kin was a warbow, yet she could still best me at sword-fighting.

I rested my hand on the hilt of my Tolite-kin. There was an answering tingle from Fyschs, but nothing resembling coherent thought.

A porter at the barracks directed us to the adjacent sparring room, an immense chamber with hard, yellow dirt packed into the floor. A couple came out to greet us, introducing themselves and Miya and Harlan, our trainers. They each wore loose pants and a tight suit of upper-body armour. Where Harlan was blond, tall and broad, Miya was dark, short and squat. Despite their differences both of them were experts with a sword. Their Tolite-kin gleamed at their sides; Harlan’s was a black broadsword and Miya’s was a razor-sharp rapier.

There were two other learners, two young Lantaidian men named Salthan and Mach. Salthan, who was rangy and olive-skinned with curly black hair, wielded a steel shortsword with a ruby set into the pommel. Mach was a heavyset man with a gold-coloured broadsword. I nodded to them as we were introduced, then we each fitted our own armour from the rack against the wall.

Before we began, Harlan inspected each of our weapons, commenting on the quality of their make. Sarlice explained that she was here to help me and showed him her simple steel shortsword. When Harlan saw my Tolite-kin, he whistled.

‘It’s a pretty weapon,’ he observed. ‘If looks can kill, you might be in luck. It would have been made by Alguhzal. He’s creative when it comes to swords.’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘It appeared on my belt when I came through the Tanzan chasm.’

‘Alguhzal puts four or five weapons into the chest every year,’ Harlan explained, ‘or at least he did when he was in Watercrag. Since he’s been here in Lantaid, his production has slowed.’

‘The chest?’ I queried.

‘Tolite weaponsmiths make many weapons to sell, but ten percent of their work is offered up to the waves,’ Harlan said. ‘The weapons go into a magical chest, which can never be opened. They appear seasons or years later with new Tolites who pass through the Curtains of Battle.’

‘Tivac said they were integrated with the barrier shield when the Tolites came here.’

‘Yes,’ Miya agreed. ‘The Curtains are connected to the waves. It is the weapon who chooses when to become someone’s Tolite-kin. Like when a Rada sends personal effects into the waves during a transformation, and brings them out again upon returning to human form, a Tolite-kin comes out of the waves when a person transitions from them.’

‘I’ve never been great with swords,’ I stammered.

‘The Tolite-kin who chose you believes you will be,’ Miya said.

‘Do you know his name yet?’ Harlan asked.

‘He is Fyschs,’ I declared.

Harlan stroked the flat of the blue blade and tapped one of the leafshards near the end. ‘This weapon should be very effective against demons.’

‘I best skill up then,’ I murmured, feeling unworthy of such a proud Kriite weapon.

‘You and I will spar first,’ he announced. ‘You others watch closely for his weaknesses.’

We wrapped our blades with bandages so as to draw no blood. Harlan and I bobbed our heads to each other, then he came at me with strength and speed. He got through my guard easily, disarming me within moments. He picked up my sword and gestured for me to try again.

Sarlice watched my every move, making me flush red with shame. As we fought, the older man criticised, and remarked on, my movements. He explained, between bursts of swordplay, that the key to survival was in knowing exactly how to use each part of the body. How to make it move without even thinking about it.

‘Years of daily practice,’ he emphasised.

He flicked his blade upwards. I blocked it, but my feet were at an odd angle so I was thrown off balance. Harlan twisted the sword around and drove it downward into Fyschs hilt, which fell from my hands.

‘You lost your balance,’ he said, bending to retrieve my fallen weapon again. ‘Sarlice, you take over here and show Taeon what you know of footwork.’

She and I moved out onto the sparring arena and left Harlan and Miya to coach Mach and Salthan.

‘When we learn sword-fighting in Lyth, each move has a special name to help you remember it,’ Sarlice said. ‘Plant your feet in line with your shoulders, bend your knees a little and hold your sword straight up in front of you.’

She winked when I had it right. ‘We call this “candle maker”. It’s the basic defensive position from which you can execute a number of blocks or attacks. It is useful to know which defences or attacks to use when your opponent’s body is in a certain position.’

She lifted her sword above her head with both hands and held it as if to strike.

‘If I did this,’ she began, ‘what would you do?’

I moved one foot forward and lifted my blade up to meet hers as she brought it slowly down.

‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘You just performed a move we call “burning the bread” against my attack, which was “chopping wood”. “Chopping wood” is rarely used because it leaves the attacker open. Instead of “burning the bread” you could have executed “pig on a spit” and stabbed me straight through the heart.’

I grimaced. ‘I don’t like having to name everything. Isn’t it better just to do it?’

She sighed. ‘Do you just want to try sparring with me?’

I raised my sword. ‘Let’s see what happens.’

Sarlice launched at me and executed a complicated series of attacks.

‘“Flying sparks”,’ she cried as I ducked and scooted out of her reach.

I stabbed up at her from below. She struck down with her blade and nearly pinned me there.

‘“Boiling water”,’ she shouted. ‘Got anything else for me?’

Darting in from the side I swerved back at the last minute and cut from the other side. The bandaged swords made soft thudding noises.

‘“Holding coals”,’ she said.

Her sword slapped side-on against mine and she twisted it in a circular motion. Fyschs spun out of my hand and the skyearl-adorned hilt clanged against the hard yellow floor. I frowned as I flexed my wrist; it was a little sore, but it was more my pride that was hurt.

‘“Stirring the soup”,’ Sarlice said with a triumphant laugh.

Miya and Mach had paused in their lesson to watch. Harlan scowled at us.

‘Enough fun and games, Sarlice. Footwork.’

I bent to retrieve Fyschs and check him for dints or scratches—apart from a little dust he was the same as before. I eventually managed to look Sarlice in the eye.

‘Why does naming all your moves make you so much… better?’ I asked.

She shrugged. ‘The names simply help me remember the moves. Now that my body knows the moves well, my mind can focus more on what the opponent is doing. That way I will always be a step ahead.’

I gave her a humble nod, ‘So… footwork… what is it?’

‘Footwork is thinking about where your feet are, not just letting it happen.’

‘What difference does it make?’

‘If you trip, that could be the only opportunity your enemy needs to strike a killing blow. Nimble footwork is essential for moving out of reach of your opponent’s cuts or thrusts. There are certain positions where you’ll be more stable than others. It’s important to learn how to get from one position to another and when to change position. Footwork is also about balance. Where do you hold your sword when you’re moving? What will conserve the most energy?’

‘It sounds complicated,’ I complained.

‘You might as well take advantage of the time we’re waiting for Ciera,’ she said. ‘Everything is hard before it’s easy.’

‘All right,’ I sighed. ‘Let’s get through the hard. I could really do with some easy.’

After twenty-three days in Lantaid, waiting, learning and waiting some more, the Lunar Festival was a welcome distraction. It was an opportunity for me to reflect on all the events of my life. I struggled with my questions for the first half of day one. When I was younger it always seemed like Jaria was against me, but now that I was grown, I could see how much love had been poured onto me, despite my shortcomings.

Deep down, I had blamed the elders of Jaria for the loss of my parents and sister. I came back hardened by my failure and the failure of my people to go searching for Ella. It was Bessed and Drea who rescued me from utter despair. Through them I was able to feel loved and valued. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have knitted into the Jarian lifestyle at all. I’d probably be off in the jungle somewhere, a truly wild Rada, doomed to wander aimlessly.

They had been like second parents to me. To lose them on top of everything else I had lost was almost unbearable.

‘They aren’t lost,’ Rekala interjected. ‘We will rescue them from slavery somehow.’

‘I hope they can hold out ’til we get there,’ I replied, ‘because it isn’t going to be any time soon.’

‘You worry a lot about things that are out of your control,’ Rekala observed.

‘I will try not to,’ I replied.

At noon, when hunger was getting the best of me, I buried
myself in a study of the Tanzan history scrolls. Reading wasn’t something I often had time to do any more, but I had been interested in learning about the world since I was young.

Throughout the middle three days of the festival, I joined in with all sorts of different people in the meeting hall and library who were discussing various topics and sharing scrolls. There were lively debates, quiet conversations and creative adaptations in song, poetry and performance.

Each of the three guilds promoted their efforts for the betterment of Tanza, but I noticed there wasn’t a lot of talk about Kriites as a whole. It was as if by being banished from Telby, the Tanzans had raised their middle finger to the rest of the world. With a realm this bountiful, perhaps they didn’t feel the need to push their luck.

Rekala and Kestric participated as much as they could, sometimes following us around, other times going with groups of Rada-kin to their own conferences. Tiaro was a soft presence in my mind, sometimes observing or commenting, but generally staying dormant while she wasn’t needed.

On the fifth morning of the festival, Sarlice and I were treated to a breakfast banquet in the guest lounge with over two hundred other visitors. After the seriousness of the past few days everybody was bursting with excitement. After the festivities ended, Sarlice and I met our kin outside. The crowds leaving the eating hall formed two streams to walk around Ciera’s massive form.

‘The bridge project I’m a part of is nearing completion,’ Ciera said when we were all within earshot. He and his team had worked all through the festival.

‘Are you able to leave the others to finish it?’ I asked.

Ciera cocked his head and peered down at me, ‘If absolutely necessary.’

‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘We’ve been here long enough.’

Ciera sighed, ‘I suppose I can finish things up early. My administrators won’t be happy… but I must admit I, too, am eager to return to Centan. The next Gathering of Minds is due, but it will not be done unless I am in Centan…’

The way his voice trailed off left me wondering, but he neither said nor thought anything further about that. Instead, he offered me a ride back to the city. Thita and Sarlice were happy to go for a walk by themselves. I climbed onto my Sleffion-kin’s back and held on warily. There was something specific about his offer to fly me home.

The skyearl puffed out a small shroud, bunched his immense legs under him and sprang into the air. The shroud lifted him up a few yards, then his wings caught a draft and beat hard against it until we were high enough to ride the current. He flew slowly, blocking me from his thoughts. Eventually I grew suspicious and asked him if anything was amiss. He glanced back at me with what seemed to be sadness.

‘I want you to come to understand what it means to be bonded with the Emperor Skyearl,’ he began mildly. ‘My responsibilities to the Tanzans and to the other skyearls are now yours as well. Likewise, your people are also a concern of mine. But you must understand I can never abandon my brethren.’

I thought hard before asking, ‘Does that mean you’ll never leave Tanza?’

‘No,’ he replied, even though it seemed difficult for him. ‘I pledge to help you with whatever you are called upon to do. But I am the Emperor of the skyearls, leading them as surely as King Crystom leads the people of Tanza. Until I am voted out of this position I must always be there for them.’

‘It sounds like you’re having trouble letting go of your role as an unbonded skyearl emperor,’ I commented.

‘I may be at that,’ he admitted. ‘I have lived without a human-kin for hundreds of years. To have one now is wonderful, but… different.’

‘I think I understand,’ I said. ‘I’ll try not to push you.’

‘We will go back to help the Jarians one day,’ Ciera declared.

‘I hope there will still be Jarians to help,’ I said.

Chapter Six—The Cascade City

Ciera swooped down into the lane near the oddly shaped fountain at the gates of Lantaid. I climbed slowly down from my Sleffion-kin’s back and rubbed his wing. He stretched it out so I could scratch beneath the feathers more effectively. The skin there was loose, but tough, and my nails left no marks at all.

As I rubbed his wing, the wind changed and Ciera’s smell wafted over me; dusky tree-bark, the faintest hint of sweet sap, flower nectar and, strongest of all, a smell like the air before a storm.

When he was well fed and full of vegetation and water, he smelled of them. I had heard that if a skyearl ever had to go without, his or her fur would lose its shine and a drier, more animal smell would prevail.

‘Like me,’ Rekala sent. Her fur was looking much better now that she was properly rested and fed; blue instead of grey.

We were about to embark on another horseback journey, but this time we wouldn’t be hounded by Zeikas. We would be able to hunt in the Tanzan forests on the way to Centan. The likely game included chevrotain deer, capybaras, okapi and gromvi.

Before we departed Lantaid, Ciera and Thita took their fill of water and palm trees. Glane and Tivac helped me load Ciera with provisions—some were his possessions, but most were for Sarlice, Rekala, Kestric and I.

During the day Ciera and Thita continued training us in the ways of Tanza. As a strategist Thita was an expert in political matters. I was not surprised to discover that Ciera’s knowledge of Tanzan history went far deeper than the information he’d passed on to me in our first encounter. He not only confirmed what others had taught us, but he explained it from the perspective of someone who was there.

Sarlice trained me in swordsmanship at dusk, so I could learn how to wield Fyschs properly. I was having trouble blocking ‘stirring the soup’, which was meant to disarm the other person. It certainly worked on me, tearing the twisted skyearls from my grip with ease. Sarlice executed it time and again, leaving bruises on my wrists and to my pride.

‘Concentrate on your Tolite-kin,’ she told me, ‘but keep your eyes on your opponent.’

I watched her closely, preparing myself for the pattern of movements I had seen before. I watched her dancing in and out, observed the length between her shoulder and sword tip, memorised the way she flexed different muscles before making a strike. As she moved I stared at her and gradually shifted my mind onto my sword.

‘I’m going to beat her this time!’ Fyschs seemed to have spoken.

A moment later Sarlice’s sword was angling toward me, the tip plunging toward Fyschs’ hilt. Her lower arm muscles flexed, ready to ‘stir the soup’ and fling Fyschs from my grip. Anger seared my senses.

A blaze of white heat flashed through my arm and went all the way down the sword. It felt like every inch of the blade came alive, feeding back sensation like a part of my own arm. The bandaged edge caught Sarlice’s weapon, crunched against the steel and rent it in two.

Sarlice leapt back in shock as the top end of her shortsword thudded onto the leaf litter. I lifted Fyschs into the air and shouted in exultation.

‘Stop it, Taeon,’ Sarlice snapped. ‘You’ll frighten any prey away.’

I lowered the sword, disappointed by her lack of support.

‘I don’t know what you think you did,’ she said, ‘but it wasn’t the correct way to block “stirring the soup”.’

She picked up the severed end of her sword.

‘I’d like to see a more effective way,’ I said indignantly.

She wrapped the pieces up in a cloth and stuffed them into her pack.

‘“Rubbing sticks” is a move you could use. When someone else goes to disarm you, move in closer. It shifts their momentum and brings you in close enough to strike with the hilt or kick them in the guts.’

I glared at her, thinking she didn’t want to admit it when I did something well just because I hadn’t been explicitly following her instructions.

She sighed. ‘Don’t be childish.’

Childish? So she really did think of me that way. But I’m only four years younger. I kept my mouth clamped shut, closed myself off from the waves, and sheathed Fyschs, heart pounding. We stood there for some time not looking at each other. Maybe she was angry about me breaking her weapon.

‘Look, I’m sorry about your sword,’ I said quietly.

She waved a hand and turned away. ‘Do not concern yourself.’

We tracked the river for six days, moving as quickly as we could through the humid forests. During that time, the hunting was good. Rekala, Kestric, Sarlice and I caught two chevrotains, an okapi, four wild boar and a gromvi. The okapi was the size of a pony, but had an unusually long neck patterned with stripes. The gromvi was a medium-sized ape with a horn and an aggressive bite. Using her Tolite-kin, Henter, Sarlice had shot it down from high in the trees. The warbow never seemed to miss.

We probably could have travelled faster on one of Ciera’s shrouds, but that would leave us exposed to the elements and unable to hunt. Ciera also stressed to me that every additional shroud he created was a drain, however small, on his energy. Causing a shroud to move was even more taxing.

When we stopped at night, Ciera and Thita munched on rich vegetation. I observed Ciera eat an entire tree one night, leaves, branches, staghorns and all. If there were bugs or small creatures in his meal, it didn’t seem to bother him. He seemed to be enjoying the journey; it was time out from his normal duties.

We had an unspoken agreement to use that time to get to know one another a little better. Because he’d been so busy, finalising his role in the projects in Lantaid and training his replacements, we hadn’t had a lot of time together.

During the day I sometimes asked Sarlice to lead my horse so I could fly high in the sky with the emperor skyearl. Ciera showed me ways to remember the terrain from above and recognise certain landmarks once I was back on the ground. He knew the land intimately well and needed no map to recognise a place from the smallest description. It was far too much for my mind to comprehend.

Other skyearls flew overhead several times a day, sometimes in groups of up to ten flying in formation. Most of these were delivery flyers for The Wing service, carrying packages, supplies and the occasional letter. With so many beings about who could use the waves, there was little need for people to send letters, except for business matters. There were no roads in Tanza, but it wasn’t unheard of for people to travel by horseback or wagon.

We passed through a plateau of plantations and fields on the last day of our travels, and the thundering of the river gradually multiplied, until Sarlice and I could hardly hear each other. The river widened considerably and branched out into hundreds of tributaries. The waterways glimmered so brightly it was as if hundreds of polished swords lay shining in the sun.

Further on, mist rose from a vast canyon, obscuring what lay beyond. I wasn’t sure what to expect of this city because Ciera and Thita had only revealed small things from their memories. Ciera wanted me to enjoy the feeling of seeing it for myself with fresh eyes. I was compelled to whistle as the horses picked their way through the tributaries. When I glanced at Sarlice, I saw that she was smiling too.

Fleetfoot baulked at one of the rivulets and pawed the ground. Sarlice slapped him on the rump as she passed. He followed Duria through the river and around an outcrop of rocks. The mist closed in around me like a veil of ice. On the other side of the outcrop, a strong wind gusted up out of the ravine and the mist billowed like white flames. At the thinnest point, I caught a glimpse of the river’s end—the top of the waterfall was white, churning violently.

Ciera landed roughly on the tip of the outcrop and folded his wings. His feathers were beaded with dew, his fur clumped with moisture but he didn’t mind. Skyearls were descended from water chimera; Ciera and Thita were both literally in their element among the mist and the water. My Sleffion-kin took a deep breath. I could not hear all his words aloud so he spoke them through the waves as well.

‘Behold the splendour of the Cascade City.’

He exhaled and a spray of shroud came out of his mouth, blowing the water spray back down into the ravine. For several minutes, Sarlice and I had a clear view of the land. The plateau looked like it had been stabbed with a giant cookie-cutter. An immense sinkhole had formed in the lowest part of the land, carved out by dozens of rivers. Water tumbled over every edge, reminding me of an enormous water drain like the ones I’d seen in Telby City.

The ravine was at least a mile wide. The waterfalls on the other side were so far away I could barely make them out. Ciera’s supernatural wind billowed all around us, lifting Sarlice’s ponytail. Rekala and Kestric stood with their ears back and eyes half closed, their whiskers beaded with dew.

‘Unbelievable,’ Sarlice murmured.

Somewhere near the middle of the ravine was a large promontory with a flat shelf on one side. It had fared better than the lands around it—where they had been worn down by flash floods over the centuries, the promontory stood a few hundred yards taller, rising from the centre of the canyon like a tower. Nestled against the side of a rocky cliff face on the shelf was Centan.

The city sprawled in a semi-organised fashion across the shelf. There were no walls, only tall silvery towers and yellow buildings that might have been carved out of the very rock. The stonework glistened like wet gold.

‘There are no gates,’ Ciera told me.

With his mind, he directed my gaze toward the centre of the city. His degree of control frightened me but I swallowed hard and concentrated. In the middle of all the gold and silver was a white palace with spires that touched the clouds.

‘Up there,’ Ciera said, ‘is my sky palace, Raer.’

His pride washed over me, mixed with a satisfaction in the power of the waves that I had never felt before. I witnessed the beauty of Raer in my Sleffion-kin’s mind; colonades of creamy marble under a dazzling sun; white terraces that shone and sparkled when the overhanging shrouds drifted to and fro. The skyearl palace was made of crystal, marble and jade held aloft by shrouds that dragged on Ciera’s psionic power even now.

Suddenly I didn’t care about going to Centan and speaking to the king on Jaria’s behalf. All I wanted was to see Raer with my own eyes and to feel the enchanted stone beneath my feet.

‘Alas, it is forbidden for humans to set foot on Raer,’ Ciera responded.

‘Even me? Isn’t it your home?’

‘Even you.’ He twisted his neck around, shouting, ‘Ah, there you are.’

I turned in the saddle. A young woman was standing directly behind me. She said something indiscernible and held out her hand. I shook it, looking to Ciera for guidance.

‘I sent for her to pick up your horses.’

‘You must be Taeon,’ she shouted, looking pleased with herself. ‘My name is Lari. I’m glad Emperor Ciera chose me to collect your horses and not one of the other serfs.’

Ciera reached out his wing and let her scratch under the feathers.

‘Lari will take the horses south to Hree, a small military village on the flats.’

Sarlice and I dismounted and unstrapped only our personal packs.

‘Leave the saddles on if you like,’ Lari hollered. ‘You won’t need them in Centan.’

‘Our thanks,’ Sarlice shouted back.

Lari accepted the reins of both horses and led them slowly away.

Thita jumped from Sarlice’s shoulder and glided down into the ravine. He reappeared a minute later flying in an arc from the direction of the city. With a broad shroud spreading out behind him, he bridged the gap between Centan and our position.

I hefted my pack over my shoulder. My clothing was soaked through.

‘Is the mist all through the city?’ I asked Ciera.

He answered, ‘Nay. There is a barrier around the city, somewhat like the protective barrier around all of Tanza, except this one holds out the mist and shrouds only. If ever we were to leave this place, we would simply deactivate the barrier, allowing the clouds from the waterfalls to cover the city. Our enemies abhor water and they would not thrive in a place blanketed by it.’

I nodded, barely understanding. If magical barriers had been available to the tribes perhaps Jaria wouldn’t have been decimated.

Sarlice, Kestric, Rekala and I set off over Thita’s bridge and I tried not to think about the empty air and the thrashing foam miles beneath us. Sarlice and I shared a nervous grin, and I sensed that her anticipation was focused on what we would encounter in Centan.

I set my eyes upon our goal and concentrated on the exquisitely formed arches and pillars between the closest buildings. A wide set of marble stairs led further into the city. On either side of the stairs were rows of pillars with sleeping skyearl statues at their peaks.

Above the huge city was a cluster of permanent clouds, which broke in small patches every so often to allow warm beams of sunlight through. I couldn’t see Raer above the clouds, but dozens of multi-coloured shapes whirled in different directions, some flying out far enough to circle back and up into the sky palace far above. Now and then, a skyearl dared to zip through one of the sun breaks.

Ciera landed as we stepped down from Thita’s shroud, and gave me a nod. The path fell away in tiny white pellets behind us. Like walking into a gust of wind, we passed through the invisible barrier. Mists I had barely noticed melted away. The city of Centan came more sharply into view.

We were high up on a special recreational platform off to one side of the main boulevard. Down below was a wide causeway with hundreds of people, skyearls and animals walking to and fro. A broad permanent-looking shroud-bridge led across the falls some distance away, joining up with the wide street.

Cartloads of supplies were being ferried across from the mainland by teams of horses, elephants or the occasional skyearl. These were unloaded in what had to be the main market district. The people interacted with each other in a friendly manner; never was a smile far away.

A young couple descended the marble staircase in front of us hand in hand. They were a picture of prosperity. Both had medium brown skin, as I would expect of Kriite royals. The woman’s was darker, more like cacao. The man was dressed in a long-sleeved, blue shirt and a gold vest covered with tiny tassels. His smart yellow trousers hung loosely at his ankles. The woman wore a pale blue gown that covered her swollen, pregnant belly with a festoon of intricate ruching and dangling gems. Her perfectly-formed features, and the circlet of royalty on her head, reminded me of Lira.

I spared a thought for my would-be lover, wondering if she was carrying my child. Despite what Lira had done to me, I didn’t wish the wrath of the Zeikas to fall upon her. Having drugged me and stolen my seed, Lira had later joined up with the Zeikas.

I had realised her true identy—Princess Denliyan of Telby—and purpose; to get with child and produce a psion. Now that I knew I was a Rada, Anzaii, Sleffion, Tolite I could understand why my bloodline was so important.

Now I was to meet another princess.

The woman tipped her head respectfully to Ciera. Speaking loudly, to be heard over the falls, she said, ‘Congratulations, friend. Your time of waiting is over.’

Ciera chuckled softly and replied, ‘Thank you, Princess. It’s good to see both of you. Prince Tyba, Princess Clayr, please allow me to introduce Taeon of Jaria and Sarlice of Lyth.’

Clayr touched her right shoulder with her left hand and bowed her head to us.

Tyba’s smile was broad and his expression open. Instead of using the traditional Tanzan greeting, he grabbed both Sarlice’s and my hands and shook them vigorously at the same time.

‘This is what you do, isn’t it?’

‘Tyba,’ said Clayr with a laugh. ‘Don’t get over-excited.’

‘Oh, but I am,’ he replied, patting me on the back. ‘It is an honour to meet you!’

Princess Clayr glanced behind us at Rekala and Kestric.

‘What magnificent animals,’ she said. ‘You must feel safe with them by your side.’

‘Yes, we do,’ Sarlice said in a loud, appreciative tone.

‘It’s wonderful to have you with us,’ Clayr replied. I saw a glimmer of her husband’s enthusiasm in her eyes and I decided I liked them both already.

Tyba and Clayr led us deeper into the city where it became a little easier to talk. I was awed by the sculpted magnificence of the buildings. Many of them reached great heights, brushing the lower formations of the city shroud, Raer, with their rooves. Ciera explained to me that most of these buildings had been engineered and created by skyearls of his type.

‘Only keltoars had the height and strength to structure something so immense,’ Ciera sent.

Many of the individual stones of the walls and towers were larger than I was.

Once he was sure we were comfortable in Tyba and Clayr’s presence, Ciera told me he needed to attend to his duties.

‘There is a Gathering of Minds later, which I must help the ritualists prepare for,’ he said aloud. ‘Since this is your first time in Centan, Taeon, you are excused from this responsibility. Go ahead and get settled. I will see you at the meeting.’

The Gathering of Minds sounded like an exciting event to participate in. Ciera had explained to me that Anzaii were instrumental in facilitating the joining of hundreds of minds from across Tanza, using the Ancient Sapphire Tree at Centan to enhance their telepathic abilities. I couldn’t help wondering if my new rank as A.S.T.R. or master psion would be important to Ciera’s role at the Gathering of Minds. His dismissal puzzled me, as I wanted to be involved in whatever he was involved in.

‘One step at a time,’ Ciera said. ‘We’ve been running gatherings for hundreds of years and I think we can manage one more without your assistance.’

‘I only want to know what it’s all about,’ I sulked.

‘It’ll be nice for you to be an observer at this one,’ Ciera reassured me. ‘All too soon, you will have more than enough responsibilities as a master psion. Enjoy this while you can, Sleffion.’

‘Very well.’

I slapped him on the lower leg in farewell, but he hardly felt it. Ciera’s body bunched like a spring and he leapt upwards into the air with astonishing power. I watched him rise over the buildings and catch a draft of wind in his shiny blue wings, which buffeted him sideways.

For a moment, I sensed the connection between him and the shroud. It reminded me of a spider on a web, feeling every tremor of wind, knowing the touch of even the tiniest fly.

‘Doesn’t the water eat away your island?’ Sarlice asked.

Tyba answered animatedly. ‘The outer precincts were rebuilt once or twice in decades past. Now we don’t have any problems.’ He jabbed his finger downwards. ‘Solid granite.’

We passed through a series of wooden arches. Long bone-coloured vines snaked between them, creating a cluster of skyearl shapes. At the end of the arch-avenue was an open square. Clayr described the functions of the largest buildings. There were armament factories, blacksmiths, stone mason yards, jewellers, tanners, fine clothiers, scribe works and food distribution warehouses. These buildings and scores of others made up the Construction District.

Tyba pointed to the scribe works, boasting, ‘This facility employs over forty scribes to search out, study and make copies of the history scrolls and natural philosophy texts.’

I nodded politely, feeling a sudden wash of fatigue. It would be nice to just find a bed and sleep. Tomorrow I would speak with the king and finally be able to discuss the situation with Jaria.

A loud squeal echoed around us and at least ten shapes lifted off the tops of the buildings, soaring into the sky. The shapes of the flying skyearls reminded me of the hawk which had nearly killed me as a child. A grin spread slowly across my face as it was reinforced to me that my irrational fear of flying things was gone.

Sarlice also smiled, but her expression was one of wonder. Centan truly was magnificent.

Tyba and Clayr lead us away through the town, pointing out a brewery, a herbal warehouse and a few other places of interest. They took us past a row of shops on an artificial watercourse and into the heart of the city. We could see the palace on a hill above the city centre.

It was a salmon and blue coloured structure, rising from the ground like a tree of the great oak variety. Its outer walls were built for decoration, not protection. It loomed there on its hill, dwarfing the multi-storeyed buildings we’d passed earlier. I had no doubts that Ciera could walk about in that palace as easily as I had walked in Telby Palace.

Tyba and Clayr guided us to a comfortable little tavern called Dawvor.

‘Go inside when you are ready,’ Tyba said. ‘There’s no charge for your stay!’

Clayr added, ‘The tavern master, Minac, may ask you to help out in the mess occasionally.’

‘Our thanks,’ Sarlice replied. ‘Through all that’s been going on, we have not had much of a chance to replenish our coin purse.’

‘“Our” coin purse?’ Clayr repeated, doubt creeping into her voice. ‘You say that as if you are used to sharing. We weren’t sure, but we presumed you weren’t a couple… from what the Sleffion-kin said.’

Frowning and with slight colour in her cheeks, Sarlice was about to answer.

‘We have been through a lot together,’ I jumped in. ‘And, travelling for so long, it becomes easier to pool resources.’

‘Of course,’ Tyba replied, glancing at his wife, who found something very interesting to stare at elsewhere.

‘I was appointed Taeon’s guide when we left Jaria,’ Sarlice explained hastily. Her tone became wistful as she said, ‘So much has happened since then. Now, I don’t think he truly needs a guide any more.’

I met her eyes, trying to say so much, but not able.

‘We are ambassadors for our people,’ Sarlice added. ‘Lyth and… what remains of Jaria… need allies if they are to survive.’

‘We shall discuss it together with my parents,’ Tyba replied.

Clayr stepped a little closer to me. ‘You must understand the king’s time is in great demand. He places you here—close to the Palace and to the Dome of Gathering—so he can call on you when he has made sufficient time.’

I nodded.

‘You will meet him soon,’ Tyba added in an upbeat manner.

‘You may need to pick the right time to discuss your… concerns,’ Clayr warned.

‘I suppose she knows I haven’t been an ambassador for long and I’m not used to the formalities,’ I said to Rekala, trying to make myself feel better.

‘You have been rather direct about it thus far,’ Rekala commented as she brushed past my leg to poke her nose in through the door. ‘Not that I blame you.’

‘Thanks for the advice,’ I stuttered.

Tyba blinked from Clayr to me and I got the impression he wasn’t as astute as her at diplomacy. ‘We’ll send an escort to take you to the Gathering of Minds in three hours.’

‘Our thanks, sire,’ I replied.

Sarlice and I gave him the traditional Tanzan greeting. He beamed widely and clapped both of us on the back.

‘You may call me by my first name,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling we are going to be good friends.’

Chapter Seven—The Gathering of Minds

Minac led us to a medium-sized room with a curtain between two wood-based beds. Rekala and Kestric stalked in and proceeded to sniff every object and mark each piece of furniture with their chins and cheeks while Thita flew to the balcony and perched there to preen his fur.

‘I hope you don’t mind sharing,’ Minac said. ‘There’s a shortage of rooms because of the gathering.’

‘All is well,’ I replied.

‘What exactly is a Gathering of the Minds?’ Sarlice asked.

Minac cleared his throat before explaining, ‘Local ritualists, Anzaii and Sleffions meet in the Dome of Gathering and use the Ancient Sapphire Tree to augment the long distance wave communications with beings in all different parts of Tanza. Disseminators speak the message out loud for those who aren’t on the waves.’

‘I had no idea the Ancient Sapphire Trees could be used that way,’ I murmured.

‘Then you have a great deal to learn,’ Minac said in good humour.

‘What do they talk about?’ Sarlice asked.

‘It’s a chance for every town and every guild leader to report in,’ Minac replied. ‘They discuss anything that’s relevant to the running of Tanza: resource management, politics, new psions, training and patrols. There have been increasing skirmishes with the Zeikas around the borders. Increased fatalities.’

‘It sounds important,’ I muttered, again feeling frustrated Ciera hadn’t wanted to involve me in his preparations.

‘It’s important to most Tanzans,’ Minac chuckled. ‘Though I admit we pretty much go about our business here at Dawvor—no time to stand around gabbling! Well I’ll leave you to it. Someone will call on you in a few hours to escort you to the meeting.’

‘Thanks, Minac,’ Sarlice said, seeing him out the door.

She closed it gently behind him.

I unbuckled the Jarian belt and the white scabbard Fyschs was in. I laid them down on one of the beds, staring at them for a while. There was so much yet to be learned, not only about sapphire trees and being Anzaii but, also about my new sword and being a Tolite. Tiaro glimmered awake as my thoughts touched her.

‘What do you make of the suggestion we can use the Ancient Sapphire Trees to augment our psionic power?’

‘I am fashioned with crystals from a Great Sapphire Tree,’ she began, ‘and my power comes from them. It is not a stretch to suppose the Nine offer even greater power to those who know how to use it.’

I recalled learning that Jaria’s Wave Master, Feera, had been limited in her abilities. Perhaps nobody had been capable of using the Ancient Sapphire Tree in the Catacombs of Krii near Jaria. As for my mother and sister, who had also been Anzaii, had they even known it existed or had the ritualists and the leaders of Jaria kept it a secret?

Sarlice unhooked her packs from each other and dropped them beside the other bed. The curtain between our beds was, as yet, pulled back. I lay on my side on the straw-stuffed mattress and watched Sarlice organise her things into a set of wooden drawers. She folded a purple garment in, tossed a small pouch of coins in on top of it and unpacked our emergency food supplies into the second drawer. We would replace it with fresh food before leaving Centan.

She bent down to retrieve a fallen trinket. Observing the fluidity in the way she moved and the way her leather clothing sat so easily on her muscular body, it occurred to me how far out of my league she was. I must have seemed like a youth to her.

‘You are a youth,’ Tiaro responded.

‘I’m nearly twenty.’

‘In most cultures you would still be considered a youth.’

‘What do you know of other cultures,’ I asked. ‘You are an inanimate object.’

My stomach turned, in a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation. I shifted to lie on my back and tried not to dwell on Sarlice. I fell asleep and had visions of people coming to me with all their messages for distant relatives, probing me for information, draining me of all thought… and there was Sarlice with her sword out, dancing in and out of my reach. Her arms and neck were bare, revealing, not far from her collar-bone, the stark white scar against the golden-brown skin of her shoulder. Lost in my dream, my eyes roved down over the swell of her chest—

‘Please forgive the intrusion.’ A plump lady pushed through the door, struggling with armfuls of linen. ‘By the Nine Trees, I sure am sorry to barge in on ye’ like this, but a messenger has come! Should have brought these up before ye arrived.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ Sarlice said even as I pretended to be still asleep.

‘My name’s Hessie,’ the lady told her. ‘I’m Minac’s sister. Now listen, Prince Tyba has sent a messenger here to escort you to the Dome of Gathering. She’s waiting downstairs.’

‘Thank you. Will you tell her we’ll be down shortly?’ Sarlice requested politely.

I heard the woman place the linen at the foot of each bed and depart. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. Had three hours passed already? My muscles felt heavy and my eyelids were sticky. Sarlice offered me her hand, which I hesitantly accepted.

‘Aren’t you going to change?’ she asked.

I sniffed at the dusty cream shirt I was wearing, then thought of the black silk shirt with the white wolf of Jaria sewn on the breast. I nodded and pulled off the one I was wearing, enjoying the feel
of Sarlice’s eyes on my chest.

The Jarian shirt was at the bottom of one of my packs, so it was a bit crumpled. Sarlice tried to smooth the fabric down on my back, but she stopped short of touching my front.

‘I know a trick with that,’ she said. ‘But we would need a hot bath and we don’t have time.’

‘Later,’ I promised, liking the idea of a bath very much.

Once we’d re-equipped ourselves with our weapons, we made our way downstairs. Thita and the Rada-kin followed.

The woman standing outside the tavern’s huge double-doors was tall and blond with piercing brown eyes. Her pale skin revealed that she had mixed heritage.

‘Good evening Taeon, Sarlice, Thita, Rekala and Kestric. My name is Skylien. I’m chief among the scribes for the king and queen. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you so much that I tasked some of my subordinates with scribing for tonight’s gathering.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Sarlice replied. ‘It must be satisfying to have people like that, you can trust to do a good job.’

‘They are very dedicated,’ Skylien agreed. ‘Most of them I trained myself.’

‘You must really enjoy writing,’ I commented.

‘Aye,’ she said. ‘There is something satisfying about making the ink flow neatly from the quill onto the scroll. Scribe work can be dull at times, though, so I write my own material.’

‘I can’t remember the last time I wrote anything down,’ I muttered. Then I recalled the letter I had written to Princess Denliyan.

‘I would have thought ambassadors like you would have to keep some written records,’ Skylien said, arching one eyebrow. I glanced at Sarlice, who rolled her eyes. Skylien led us away from the tavern down a cobbled street lit with large yellow lanterns.

Thita flew silently above Sarlice’s head, landing on her shoulder every now and then for a pat.

I tuned out as the women discussed what we’d been through over the past few weeks, choosing instead to focus on our surroundings. The journey only required the briefest walk as we travelled most of the way by ferry on the artificial canals. Despite their slick appearance, the buildings in Centan were not damp. The shield around the city protected it from the shrouds and from the clouds the waterfalls generated. As we passed close enough, I could see many buildings made of polished marble in various hues. Some had plain yellow granite foundations that matched the colour of the ground. There were columns down the main thoroughfares, carvings and mosaics on the walls of official buildings and fountains or troughs on most corners.

The humans shared the city with skyearls and animals of wondrous variety. As such, many of the buildings were enormous, with archways as high as a forest canopy. When I looked up, I saw creatures playing on the beams far above—everything from tiny skyearls the size of Thita to cats, hawks and lizards. I could sense the tightly-coiled control of the predatory Rada-kin as they resisted their instincts to hunt. Some were more used to it than others, depending on how long they’d been bonded.

‘Greetings,’ I called through the waves to nobody in particular.

A chorus of voices came back to me and half a dozen birds fluttered around my head crying through the waves, ‘Welcome, welcome, Taeon of Jaria. Master psion!’

I didn’t think I would be deserving of that title until I could fully understand and use all four powers.

Rekala and Kestric trailed behind us, a little bewildered by all the new sights, sounds and scents. I stopped to stroke Rekala’s head and she rubbed her cheek against my hip with a low whine of apprehension.

‘What do you think of the city?’ I asked her.

‘It is confusing,’ she complained. ‘There are too many beings all in one place. I cannot discern where everything is.’

Rekala’s ears provided one of the most important senses that she used to understand the world around her, including the direction and distance of other creatures. When she’d been alone in the jungle, she’d used this to hunt prey and avoid other icetigers. Now, however, it was overwhelming for her. When I concentrated on her mind, I got the impression of a map spread out around us, with hundreds of differentiated sounds all piled on top of each other, as if there were humans, skyearls and animals all standing in the same place in every direction around us.

She seemed relieved when we crossed the road into the parklands that surrounded the Dome of Gathering. Large blue lanterns hung from the boughs of countless trees in the courtyard. A banner-lined stone pathway led to a set of stairs and the immensely high glass dome.

Skylien led us through groups of people who were chatting and sipping mugs of lime-green liquid. Tyba came down the stairs looking pleased to see us but somewhat distracted. Skylien shook our hands farewell, nodded to the prince and departed.

‘Well met, friends,’ he said. ‘Do come in.’

We passed through the wrought-iron entryway and into a hall of starry black. Crystal candleholds jutted from the ebony walls, catching shards of light and throwing them in all directions, but the immensity of the hall made it far too big to light properly at this time of night. Instead, the candles winked above us as skyearls flew in by the dozen, using the waves so they never crashed into each other. Fluttering, squawking and human sounds echoed. I kept one hand on Rekala’s shoulder to reassure her. She could see better than me in the dark, though in a smaller range of colours.

Further down the hall, we emerged into a blue-lit chamber with rings of green chairs underneath a distant glass dome. An oval-shaped stage jutted into the middle of the room. On its front end was an Ancient Sapphire Tree; even bigger than the one I had touched in the Catacombs of Krii in Naioteio near Jaria. Its trunk was several paces wide and its branches richly jewelled with the same stone-like leaves that adorned my belt. Blue light emanated from each leaf and reflected in the pupils of the thousands of eyes across the chamber.

Ciera was lying on his stomach at the back of the stage, speaking urgently with a group of four ritualists in blue robes, eight other skyearls and their Sleffion. Under the ethereal light of the tree his coat was exquisite. I felt like I should have been there with him but Tyba patted my shoulder and lead us up a spiral staircase to a small balcony.

A broad-shouldered man sat rigidly at one of the tables, watching the figures on the stage. He had an ordinary face that was, somehow, not what I expected of a king. I could see the resemblance between Tyba and him, but the prince’s face was more symmetric, his features sharper. Crystom wore a neatly-trimmed beard and moustache that was brown with flecks of silver. Even in the flickering firelight I could tell his skin was medium brown but it was also spotted from many days spent in the sun.

Opposite was a regal looking woman in purple velvet and white silk robes. She had her greying black hair done up in a bun with a golden circlet atop. She had a kindly, but firm, look about her and the beauty of her youth was apparent in her large green eyes, streamlined cheeks and petite nose.

‘This is my father and mother,’ Tyba told us unnecessarily, ‘King Crystom and Queen Emyla.’

The king slapped his left palm against his right shoulder and nodded his head. ‘Pleased to meet you Taeon, and you, Sarlice. Your skills are welcome here and I hope you decide to join our army for the defence of Tanza.’

Despite the formal way he addressed us, there was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. I guessed that Tyba got his exuberant nature more from his father than his mother. I expected that the king and prince were people who followed rules when it was necessary, but knew when to strike a compromise and show a sense of humour.

‘If what we’ve heard is true, Sarlice,’ Crystom continued, ‘you could eventually have a position here training our new recruits in archery and swordcraft.’

‘Thank you,’ Sarlice replied in astonishment, forgetting to return the ritual greeting.

‘He thinks we are here to settle down?’ I thought to Rekala and Tiaro, affronted.

‘It’s a big realm,’ Rekala replied. ‘They’re bound to be self-important about it and presume the Kriites living in other nations would rather be in this one.’

‘It’s an honour to meet you, King Crystom,’ I said, bowing with my left palm against my right shoulder.

‘Perhaps he presumes that you will naturally start seeing yourself as a Tanzan now,’ Tiaro suggested.

‘Now that Jaria is no more?’ I lamented.

‘Well, there is that, but I meant now that you are bonded with the emperor skyearl.’

‘True…’

‘Queen Emyla,’ I began, setting aside the uncertainty Tiaro’s words roused in me. ‘Tales of your beauty have been vastly understated.’

Sarlice’s eyebrows shot up. The queen beamed and held out her jewel-encrusted fist for me to kiss.

‘My husband referred to you as “Taeon”,’ the queen said, ‘but I wonder if you would rather be called by your Jarian title of Ambassador.’

‘It’s kind of you to consider my feelings, Your Majesty, but I am forced to conclude that a ruined realm hardly needs ambassadors.’

‘I’m sorry to hear what happened to Jaria,’ she replied with genuine sorrow in her voice. ‘It’s much the same in various parts of the world, you know, Zeikas capturing Kriites to get past—’ She glanced at her husband. ‘Well… you will have heard about the defeat of Watercrag?’

‘Aye.’ What had she been about to say? Capturing Kriites for what? I had started to form words to describe how I thought Jaria could be restored, but these questions threw me. The queen looked away, presumably listening to her Sleffion-kin on the waves.

She patted me on the arm. ‘We will speak more later.’

The crowds hushed and Ciera stood up very slowly and looked up at our balcony. He winked at me and began to speak. His size gave his voice enough amplification to reach the back of the room.

‘Be welcome at the Gathering of Minds for the 700^th year. The Gathering recognises Duchess Zar and Anzaii Chalinal from Highford, Duke Vernor from Lokshole, Duke Pelram and Commander Tinok from Condii, Duke Alger from Lantaid, Duchess Silik, Commander Teska, Anzaii Lilyrm and Duke Osk from The Sunbark Cities, Commander Hushoer from New Rosenvale and Specialist Tsek from Ruhor Lair.

‘These minds are on the waves, their thoughts amplified by the channelling powers of the many sapphire trees in this realm and the artefacts made from their leaves and bark. We welcome you into our presence, with the warming light of the Ancient Sapphire Tree of Tanza.’

Tyba whispered in my ear, ‘Each representative from the cities of Tanza has a rituliast and an Anzaii by their side, guiding them through the waves for the Gathering of Minds. The Ancient Sapphire Tree functions mainly as a beacon. Look at it through your wave senses. I have heard it is beyond beautiful to most Anzaii.’

I focused my real eyes on the tree and gradually brought my awareness of the waves down to a single channel. It was like sweeping a firebrand through a vast black plane—a bright blue spark leapt out at me. Then, twinkling like brilliant blue fireflies, the leaves of the Ancient Sapphire Tree came alive. The entire tree pulsed with life and many faces seemed to be reflected in the shining surfaces of leaf and stem.

Ciera had continued introducing participants in the Gathering who had travelled here from places called Lander’s Bay and Kovain. When he raised his voice, it echoed throughout the dome and some people held their ears.

‘Does Ciera always run these gatherings?’ I asked the queen.

‘Nay,’ she whispered. ‘We take turns between Crystom, myself, Tyba, Clayr and our Sleffion-kin. He’s the only one who doesn’t need a speaking funnel.’

‘Before we move onto graver matters I have a few routine announcements to make,’ Ciera began. ‘First of all, King Crystom has asked me to remind you that the defenders are calling for new recruits across all of their warrior and service classes. Secondly, less than a season ago, the people of Lantaid were happy to receive Taeon of Jaria and Sarlice of Lyth, two Kriite tribes mostly made up of Rada.’ He gestured at our balcony. ‘Furthermore, it is my pleasure to reveal that I have finally found my Sleffion, Taeon.’

An enormous rush of talking engulfed the dome. Suddenly all eyes were upon me. On a suggestion from Ciera, I stood nervously to my feet and waved. Smiles of wonder appeared on a thousand faces and some Tanzans clapped. Soon the entire Dome was filled with a sound like rain in a narrow canyon. Rekala cowered, so I bent to cover her ears.

When the noise had died down, Ciera nodded to one of the other humans on the stage and swept his piercing gaze across the crowd.

‘And now for my most unpleasant announcement,’ he said. ‘The Zeikas have breached the barriers of Tanza once again. We have reason to believe there are large forces already within our realm.’

I gasped in shock, wondering how he had kept this from me. Even if he only confirmed the breach since arriving in Centan, his ability to shield his mind from mine was impressive.

All joy evaporated from the room. Silence fell and people fixed their eyes on the emperor skyearl in solemn concentration.

‘During Taeon’s and my bonding ceremony, we spotted a Zeika scout. This afternoon I received reports that sightings have also been made by citizens of Highford and Condii. Defender scouts have been sent to the border to help the patrols search for the Zeika warcamps, but we expect the Zeikas to use many wards and spirit circles to conceal themselves.’

I could hear a hesitant murmuring.

‘We have fought off four Zeika incursions in the past twenty-five years,’ Ciera went on. ‘Though their desire for our lands must be strong, there is nothing to suggest they might succeed in their mission this time.’

‘Why are they attacking us now?’ a young man standing towards the back of the hall called out.

‘Why do they ever attack us?’ King Crystom rejoindered, shouting to be heard. ‘Reltland is stripped bare. The Zeikas want our bountiful Tanza.’

Ciera nodded at him from the stage then turned toward the Ancient Sapphire Tree, making it obvious he addressed the representatives from all the cities of Tanza who were still hovering on the waves.

‘Data and wartime log books have been sent on The Wing for the high commanders of every city. You are all required to prepare your armies for attack. As usual, when the Zeikas attack, you are also expected to have an effective relocation strategy in place. It’s not likely we’ll need it, but I have to remind you nonetheless.’

The audience rumbled and hissed with displeasure. Sarlice and I exchanged glances. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time to come to Tanza for help. No matter where I turned, things seemed to be going from bad to worse. Tiaro conveyed her own sorrow through the waves. I rubbed the earring absentmindedly and it glowed brightly. My other hand went to the sapphire-leaf belt from Jaria. My perception of the people listening on the waves became sharper. I marvelled at that and spent some time dwelling on each person I encountered. They were not aware of me, it seemed.

Over the next half an hour, Ciera and the others in the dome and on the waves discussed a range of issues. Feeling out of my depth, I listened. Border patrols from several cities had failed to report in recently; there were skyearls whelping in Ruhor Lairs who needed protecting in the event of war; there was a water shortage in Lander’s Bay; an overabundance of crops in The Sunbark Cities were putting farmers from New Rosenvale out of business; the most powerful Anzaii in Highford had recently died of old age.

My hand tightened on the belt. If what Ciera had said was true, perhaps my belt could be used to enhance my Anzaii abilities, too. It was, after all, fashioned not only from a sapphire tree or a Great Sapphire Tree, but an Ancient Sapphire Tree. When Namal had given it to me, he had said the Jarians suspected there was a purpose to the leafshard artefacts. The belt had been fashioned from the leaves of one of the nine remaining Ancient Sapphire Trees. And here before me was a second.

I thought of the Jarians at work for the Zeikas. I could imagine the cruel whips punishing the bound Rada-kin, bullying them into submission and forcing their human kin to obey their slavemasters’ every wish. My breath quickened.

Tiaro cried out in response to my emotion, and I heard my own mental scream of anguish on the waves echoing hers. Many of the faces I could see in the leaves of the ancient tree looked in my direction, followed by the faces of those wave-users who were in the chamber with us. Their expressions varied from shock and outrage to sorrow and compassion.

Ciera watched me with interest, but he didn’t reach out. I thought he was holding back to prevent himself from losing control in front of everyone. I couldn’t stop the visions of death and destruction nor the sadness that welled up in me. Worse still was the certain knowledge that many people were suffering long-term torture and deprivation at the hands of the Zeikas. Not just Jarians, but any who refused to bow down to them and their demon lord.

I thought of the countless Kriites in Telby and nearby who would soon suffer under the swelling Zeika Empire. Hadn’t King Flale spoken of them as an acceptable sacrifice for the greatness of Telby?

And there was the princess of Telby scheming and joining forces with Reltland, heedless of the suffering she would bring upon a portion of her people. She was prepared to use her own child to boost her power.

A few yards away, the intensity of my feelings resonated with Rekala. She was crouched low with her ears back.

I felt my heart beating harder and heat rush to my face as I realised that the Tanzans wouldn’t be able to dedicate forces to search for the captured Jarians and help the Kriites of Telby until Tanza was free of the Zeika threat.

I decided I would help them. I would make myself indispensible to them, then they couldn’t say no to helping Jaria. Together we would drive the Zeikas back. Rekala lurched forward and roared. I jumped to my feet with my fists in the air.

‘We will not be defeated!’ I shouted. The talking slowly died away as more people looked up at the balcony. It was as if my words had somehow reached through the waves into their minds to capture so much attention. Surprised at my own tenacity, a thrill of nerves buoyed me on. ‘No matter what it takes,’ I yelled, ‘we shall not bow to the Zeikas! No matter what, we shall not yield to our enemies!’

They cheered loudly; ritualists, delegates and citizens from all over Tanza, people listening here in the dome, people connected through the Ancient Sapphire Tree. Skyearls stamped their feet and flapped their wings. Ciera lifted his massive head and roared. The deafening sound was what I imagined an exploding volcano would sound like.

The soles of my feet vibrated in my boots and my teeth chattered. In the skyearl language his roar had meaning—‘overwhelm’. I found myself shouting along with him. People jumped and shouted and raised their fists. It was as if some kind of energy travelled through the entire room with that thundering roar.

Slowly the king got to his feet. He stood beside me, placing one hand on my shoulder. I made eye contact with him and allowed myself to relax. Together we waited for the crowd to quieten.

Crystom looked out over his people and said, ‘Emperor Ciera and Master Psion Taeon are right. The Zeikas plan to use Tanza to advance their war campaign, but we will stop them here! Go now and prepare yourselves for war!’

It was the first time someone had called me by my new rank publicly.

‘Master Psion Taeon,’ I thought to myself. ‘If only my father could see me now.’

Chapter Eight—The Council of Water

Over the next few days, Centan was abuzz with activity and chatter. Sarlice and I encountered a mixture of feelings towards the prospect of war. Shrewd business people were stocking up on foodstuffs, weapons and medicines, which would soon become the most valuable of commodities.

Every day we could see great bands of cloud stretching over the waterfalls, providing transport for new defender recruits. The defender base was in Hree, a few hours flight or a day’s walk from Centan.

The city smithies worked night and day to get enough weapons and armour constructed for the upcoming battles. Some of those on the night shift dropped in to Dawvor in the evenings to eat, and were eager to discuss world events with Sarlice and me.

Minac was a generous host and showered us with food and gifts. I tried to explain to him that we weren’t likely to be able to carry them all once we started travelling again. He merely shrugged and thrust more trinkets and clothing at us; rabbit-skin slippers, an osprey-feathered headpiece, a jewelled skyearl-eggshell wristband, a set of nyno-scale carry cases, beaded straps and buckles of various sizes and designs. In return, I cooked some of the meals and Sarlice waited on the tables and told stories.

Sarlice and I ate in Minac’s private dining hall, because when either of us were among the patrons there wasn’t a moment to ourselves. Everyone had questions for us, especially me. How long had I been an Anzaii? How did I reach so many other beings at the Gathering of Minds? Where had I come from? What was life like there? How did I feel about being Ciera’s Sleffion?

After such encounters I would retreat to the kitchens or our balcony upstairs. Sarlice caught me staring into the distance every now and then. My guilt at not being able to help Jaria in time had transformed into a resigned sadness. Even by getting Rekala to chain-wave other Rada-kin, the closest being to Jaria that we had been able to reach was in Tasset. This had revealed nothing about the fate of my people.

With an empathic smile, Sarlice directed my thoughts away from home, distracting me with conversations about the new things we were learning or trivialities from the day.

There was a mutual agreement between the two of us not to part with much coin during our stay. As we were currently guests at Dawvor and had access to everything we needed it made no sense to waste money. We spent many hours investigating the City of Centan, though, leaving no street and no shop unnoticed.

We were invited to dine with eight different families and representatives from each of the three guilds. We met a wide variety of city residents. I came to understand that Tanza was a free society. It had a king, but its people were free to pursue their own destinies, without the shackles of nobility that oppressed most other societies on Chryne. People who would be considered peasants in Telby owned land and businesses in Centan.

Many of these enterprising individuals enlisted our help in projects for the speakers guild, including resource organisation, evacuation and escape plans and various messenger services. As a politician Ciera was part of the speakers guild.

He gave Rekala and me the task of contacting two dozen remote families to inform them of the impending war. This involved seeking out Rada-kin living nearby and getting them to relay the messages. It felt good to use my Anzaii-based ability to reach all Rada-kin for something so valuable.

Thirty skyearls occupied the same massive room I was in, contacting other Sleffion-kin who lived far away from the major cities. The beings I was contacting didn’t live with or near skyearls who were also Sleffion-kin, for one reason or another, and were outside the usual lines of communication. They all conveyed their thanks through the animals that communicated my message to them.

Sarlice, Kestric and Thita assisted Ciera in the evacuation plans for Tanza. While they weren’t expecting to have to abandon the realm it was a contingency that had to be planned for. Ciera was in frequent contact with a skyearl representative in Ravra, Tanza’s only ally in the Highlands. Should the worst come to pass, the citizens of Tanza would be granted refugee status in Ravra for a time.

The Ravrans promised no aid in the actual battles— understandable given the risk to their own realm from a misstep with Reltland. They knew only too well that Ravra was also in a prime position for the Zeikas to launch a war campaign on the rest of Eastern Chryne.

I was aware of Ciera’s involvement in a failsafe plan to deactivate the dome of energy that kept the shrouds out of Centan should the Zeikas defeat the defenders. It was sometimes difficult getting people to cooperate and answer his questions when they heard the word ‘defeat’, but Ciera was persistent about preventing the Zeikas from having free access to Centan and the skyearl palace, Raer. If they couldn’t see where they were going and were unable to light fires in the mists, they would have to leave the place alone.

Five days after the Gathering of Minds Tyba met Sarlice, myself and our kin in a grand courtyard.

‘I hope you haven’t minded being left on your own out here,’ Tyba said. ‘We wanted to give you time to adjust.’

‘We understand,’ Sarlice said. ‘How fares the realm?’

Tyba’s brows pinched. ‘Skirmishes are already occurring in places around the border.’

Sarlice clucked her tongue in disappointment. ‘I just wish there was more Taeon and I could do to help you.’

Tyba nodded his head. ‘Oh yes. We will get to that. Shall we?’

Inside the palace was just as incredible as outside. It was high enough for Ciera to stand with room to spare—the immense space of the interior required hundreds of lights at night. Fancy gold torches lined the walls and dozens of chandeliers hung from the roof. Whenever a candle guttered out, a skyearl of about Thita’s size would fly up and relight or replace it.

There were four human guards positioned around the room, each one with a skyearl about the size of a large dog. One also had a ferret perched on his shoulder. I could sense the ferret’s thoughts, which were wide open and erratic. Despite this, the guard remained still, scanning left to right without distraction.

Outside, I had noticed that the skies were patrolled by ten defenders riding their Sleffion-kin. The skyearls of the Palace Flight-watch were all larger than horses, but nowhere near Ciera’s size. Though Centan was considered the safest place to be in Tanza, I figured it was prudent to be on the lookout for trouble when the king, the queen, the heirs to the throne and the emperor skyearl were all in the same place.

‘And you, Sleffion,’ Ciera pointed out.

King Crystom and Queen Emyla sat together on one side of the large square table. Clayr and Sarlice were on the side nearest the queen and Tyba and I sat near the king. All of us were dressed in formal attire, but nothing that would have taken long to get into. Unlike the Telbion nobility, Tanzans favoured practicality, comfort and speed over the frivolities of fashion. Sarlice was seated across from me, wearing an elegant, cool-purple slip with a dainty silver girdle. Her rust-red curls shone in the lights of the majestic dining hall.

Ciera, Thita and the other four Sleffion-kin reclined in an enormous sand pit nearby, chatting among themselves and dining on trees of many shapes and sizes. Rekala and Kestric sprawled on a square of lawn beneath a skylight, having eaten their fill of stuffed goose, roasted turtle and lowry fish.

King Crystom swung his arms when he spoke, sharing his vision for the future of Tanza. Sarlice engaged him in a challenging debate about the possibility for Tanza to use its unique position and resources to reach out to less enlightened nations rather than focusing on itself. I suspected she was trying to move the conversation toward a place where we could bring up the plight of the Lythians and the fate of the Jarians.

Crystom only smiled knowingly and cited the disaster that had occurred in Telby when Tanza had last tried to integrate with the Upper World. I ate quietly, wondering at Crystom’s self-serving attitude.

‘It’s hardly possible to go off playing the hero in other nations when we are still fighting to control our own,’ he said.

‘Should I ask about Jaria?’ I queried Ciera.

‘Not yet,’ he replied.

Tyba sighed. ‘We have been fighting the Zeikas on and off for as long I have lived. They hold us back, but we will soon triumph. Then… then we will try mixing with the other races more.’

Ciera stirred from his divot in the sand. ‘I agree, in part, with Sarlice. That is why I have maintained relations with Ravra and Jesath.’

The king brooded over his wine.

‘Of course, Duuryn and Irin remain closed to all outsiders,’ Ciera added.

‘Now?’ I asked Ciera.

‘No,’ he sent. ‘You don’t want to be too abrupt with Crystom.’

We ate for a while in silence.

‘That’s a lovely earring you wear, Taeon,’ Queen Emyla said.

I wiped my mouth before replying, ‘It is Tiaro, my Anzaii-kin. A gift left for me by my father…’

‘Magical.’

‘As far as I know, he had no idea it would become sentient upon our first meeting.’

‘I should have reminded you,’ Tyba said to his mother. ‘Tiaro will be a welcome presence should the Zeikas attack us.’

That made Em pause. For some reason, I had the impression that my Anzaii abilities were somehow very significant to her. She watched me out of the corner of her eye. I chewed and swallowed audibly.

‘Did you know there was an Anzaii division in the defender army?’ Crystom asked me.

I shook my head.

‘Was?’ Sarlice said cautiously.

‘There have been attacks on the Anzaii by other Kriites,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s some kind of faction. They believe that Anzaii powers are an open door for exploitation and they support the preservation of the majority at the cost of a few. Their aim seems to be killing Anzaii.’

Sarlice widened her eyes meaningfully at me, and asked, ‘What are you doing to stop them?’

‘All Tanza is under orders to detain and question anybody professing such beliefs,’ Emyla said. ‘They call themselves the Wavekeepers.’

‘We have heard of this cult in the Highlands,’ I said. ‘I saw a murder take place in Jaria…’

I nearly choked as I realised my time had come for requesting help for Jaria.

‘Very well,’ Ciera agreed. ‘But don’t get your hopes up…’

‘I won’t,’ I said impatiently, ‘but it’s my duty to try.’

All eyes turned to me as I told the story of Feera’s last moments at the hands of a Wavekeeper. I quickly summarised the battle near the Catacombs of Krii. I stumbled over my words, leaping through time as I hastened to tell them all that had befallen my people and all that Sarlice and I had gone through to bring our request to Tanza.

I was nearly out of breath when I finally said, ‘Even though I have been relieved of my duty as ambassador, and there may be only a few dozen Jarians left, I must request your help to rescue them from slavery…’ I glanced at Sarlice. ‘And to prevent the same fate from gripping Lyth… and all the Kriites in Telby…’

My request sounded ludicrous even to me. How could I expect this nation, on the brink of war, to fly to the aid of the Jarians and other scattered Kriites? Crystom stared at me for a long while, and I thought the upwards tilt of his eyebrows indicated compassion. Tyba and Em waited for him to speak.

‘I think you already know what I’m going to say, Taeon.’ He poured more wine for each of us. ‘The original mission your leaders impelled you with has not changed. It was not for Jaria that you were sent. It was for something even bigger, hard as that may be for you to accept. I’m not saying we won’t help Jaria. Once we’ve driven these black-hearted demon-worshippers back we will be able to spare some thought to the matter.

‘Of course you know we cannot march an army upon Telbion allies on Telbion territory. Not only because of the ban, but because that would give Telby’s armies every reason to band with Reltland against us. At present there is a tentative peace, contingent upon our staying out of their lands. It must be a quiet operation. Perhaps I will even send you… but not Ciera; he is not one for stealth…’

Crystom’s monologue ran down and I felt that he was truly trying to visualise a way it could be done. I felt naïve to have ever thought all my problems would be over when I reached Tanza.

‘You could send a handful of Sleffions and their kin to scout in Jaria, couldn’t you?’ I wheedled. ‘After the Zeikas’ war campaign in Tanza is over Sarlice and I can join the scouts and do whatever we can to help our tribes. I am willing to serve Tanza wholeheartedly if you will grant this one small boon.’

The king glanced at his wife. Sarlice nodded and I saw admiration in her eyes. I knew I was doing the right thing, but my heart sank with the weight of sadness and my appetite fled. Small and insignificant Jaria may be, but it was my home. They were my people and the Lythians were Sarlice’s. Could we change allegiance to Tanza so easily?

‘That dilemma is part of the reason I’ve give you space these past few days,’ Ciera murmured through the waves, ‘but if it makes you feel any better, I believe that the Tanzans are your people too.’

‘Sarlice, you are the ambassador for Lyth still, are you not? How do you feel about this?’ Queen Emyla asked.

‘Lythians are accustomed to being on their own,’ she replied. ‘We’ve been evading the Telbions and the Relts this far. Another few seasons isn’t going to make much difference.’

‘This war could go on for longer than that,’ Clayr said.

Sarlice was looking at me as she answered. ‘Kestric and I have known from our first days with Taeon that our true quest was somewhat different to the quest from my father, the Prime of Lyth. We are here for Taeon… and for the good of all Kriites.’

My heart swelled to hear her declaration of loyalty.

‘Thank you, Taeon and Sarlice,’ King Crystom said. ‘We accept your fealty, and the requested scouting party will be sent.’

‘This does not diminish your allegiance to Jaria or Lyth,’ Queen Emyla stated. ‘If anything, it strengthens it.’

I wasn’t sure what to think about that, but I kept my peace. Did she feel guity about something?

‘Our thanks, Your Majesty,’ Sarlice said. Noticing my silence and perhaps sensing my distress, she reverted to our original topic of conversation. ‘And the Anzaii among the defenders,’ she began, ‘what happened to them?’

Emyla put her hand on my friend’s shoulder. ‘Well they’re not all dead if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m sure you know Anzaii are especially adept at surviving encounters with Zeikas.’

‘Then what?’ I asked, my curiosity piqued. I tried hard to keep the concern out of my voice.

‘Let’s just say, they are not quite as open about their gifts as they used to be. We no longer distinguish them from other members of the defenders except in the strike force, which is unavoidable. You will find Anzaii throughout all of the divisions. There are about 90 in total, most of whom I know by name.’

‘Perhaps you know where I might find my Aunt Jaalta,’ I said unenthusiastically, not willing to get my hopes up.

The king’s eyebrows went up. ‘Well, yes, I do know that name quite well.’

‘Is she the one with the…’ Clayr made a cutting gesture across her throat.

Crystom nodded. ‘The Jaalta I know is one of our most gifted Anzaii, here in Centan. Sadly, her throat was cut during a battle with Zeikas some years back.’

My heart sank. So she is dead then.

‘Miraculously, she survived, but she cannot speak,’ Crystom added. ‘She can barely raise a croak.’

I couldn’t decide whether to react with joy or pity. Finally I said, ‘So she has learned to communicate with people through the waves?’

The king and queen suddenly had new respect in their eyes.

‘Yes,’ Em replied. ‘This “person-to-person telepathy”, as it is sometimes called, is a rare and valuable gift.’

‘For that reason, Jaalta has personal bodyguards with her most of the time,’ Crystom added. ‘We’ll arrange for her to meet you, Taeon.’

I nodded my thanks.

‘So you do think the Zeikas are trying to capture Anzaii?’ Sarlice asked.

‘It is possible,’ Em said solemnly, ‘that the Zeikas have learned how to perform a waverade. It means “violation of the waves” in ancient Kaslonican. The ritualists, who research into Zeika sorcery, recently discovered a new rite that merges the wavelengths used by two people into an artefact. When the artefact is being worn, each person can use each other’s abilities.

‘It is disquieting to think that some Zeikas may be able to listen to our wave communications.’

My stomach turned. Perhaps that’s why the Zeikas had been after me all this time. They must think my Anzaii abilities were strong. Little did they know I had barely scratched the surface.

‘May I ask what you know about the sapphire trees?’ I said.

‘What do you want to know?’ Tyba replied.

‘That one in the dome is the Ancient Sapphire Tree of the Council of Water, is it not?’

Tyba looked pleased and Queen Em was nodding.

‘Has a leafshard artefact ever been made from it?’

‘Not that we know of,’ Em replied. ‘The tree here has not willingly shed even a single leaf for centuries. We lack the tools to cut it, but even if we had such it would be frowned upon.’

Remembering how it had felt to place my hand upon the tree in the Catacombs of Krii, I asked, ‘Would I be allowed to touch it?’

Em was about to reply when Sarlice and I raised our heads in shock.

‘ALERT!’

Em was the first to react, but within seconds all six of us had received a summons from our Sleffion-kin. An image of many wings flashed through my mind. Oily black and green bodies stained the skies above a distant city. Tanza was under attack.

Above are chapters 1-8

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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, creating imaginative epic fantasy books that are both vivid and action‑driven.

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

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