Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) (14 page)

A blast from the direction of the village drowned us with heat and sound. I spun instinctively to peer in the direction of the explosion, and missed the Zeika soldiers’ order to attack. They charged past us in a frenzied rush. Sarlice, Kestric and I ducked and waited for the onslaught to come. But the Zeikas didn’t even notice us as they passed. They were too intent on their aims. With a glance at each other, in wolf form, Sarlice and I loped through the underbrush after them, with Kestric close behind.

By the time we reached the village, the Jarians were engaged in a desperate fight. With their animal-kin and their ability to morph, the Rada were formidable in battle, but the Zeikas made good use of their fire power. A line of archers were positioned on the roof of the village centre taking out Zeikas below. Mounted Jarian warriors approached from the stables to the east, and anyone who could morph or pick up a weapon did so.

I was so shocked to see this number of Zeikas in Jaria Village that I lost my concentration and fell back into human form. Sarlice followed suit and pulled me behind a stack of crates and barrels. I noticed a scuffle at the entrance to the village hall. Flames and smoke were billowing from inside it, and Prime Arone fought singlehandedly with Regar, his guards and aides already slain.

‘Bessed, Drea,’ I murmured.

‘No, Talon, don’t,’ Sarlice cried, holding my arm. ‘Don’t let him see you.’

‘It doesn’t matter if he sees me,’ I retorted. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

‘Bessed and Drea are hale,’
Kestric reassured us, after contacting their Rada-kin.
‘They are inside the building, cut off from Arone by the flames and falling debris, but there is a door on their side of the hall.’

‘Uola,’
I called, clawing my way through the waves in desperation. It was as if the many Rada around Jaria were suddenly lit-up, whereas they had been dark to my wave senses before. Tiaro was much brighter and easier to find but, if I concentrated, I was starting to perceive dozens of other presences.

Bessed’s ram confirmed what Kestric had told me.
‘Get away. Get free. Bessed says you’re supposed to be escaping.’

‘The Anzaii gift is manifesting,’
I argued.
‘How else could I be talking with you in the waves?’

‘That may be,’
he replied, distracted by his efforts to escape the burning building,
‘but it’s too soon for you to fight the Zeikas.’

‘I’m not leaving,’
I retorted angrily. Why was everybody still treating me like a child? Uola made no reply, busy helping Bessed and some of the other elders.

Regar knocked Prime Arone to the ground with a final, vicious swipe and moved into a clear space, bloodied scythe in hand. I lurched forward, but Sarlice grabbed me back with both hands on my shoulders. We were about twelve yards away from Regar and he had his back to us, but Sarlice wasn’t taking any chances.

‘Arone told us to protect you,’
Kestric said.
‘And that’s what we’re going to do.’

‘Today, we are not here for a massacre,’ Regar announced, ‘but we will be forced to neutralise any who continue to resist.’

For emphasis, the Conjurer and his dragon flew down from the sky, breathing a wall of flame in front of Regar.

‘You slaughtered our leader,’ one of the Jarian warriors shouted hopelessly. ‘What more do you want?’

‘It is the rightful place of Zei’s people to rule over you. We will demonstrate that you worship a traitorous lesser god. Jaria will submit to Reltland or we’ll take it by force.’

‘So was he here for me or here to kill Arone?’
I asked Tiaro.

‘Maybe both,’
she replied.

‘The Lightmaker is the only true God!’ The daring cry came from a young girl.

Regar hurled a white dagger. The girl screamed and Jarians surged forward to protect her. The battle resumed and the roars of Rada-kin mingled with the crackle of sorcerous flames. Snakes of fire lanced out, shearing through all in their path. I leapt up with a snarl of hate, fighting Sarlice’s efforts to hold me back.

Regar blasted fire at a dog to his right and bashed a man over the head with the hilt of his scythe. A pair of Zeikas ran to the fallen Jarian and lifted him onto the back of a spotted horse. With one final glance around the village centre, Regar jumped onto the horse in front of the Jarian and galloped off with a dozen others.

Sarlice finally let me go and I ran into the fray, ducking a blue flail. My attacker struck at me again with surprising speed. I blocked the flail with the Barh sword and lost my footing. His swings came within an inch of my body as I stumbled backwards. The steel darts on my surcoat deflected his glancing blows. The Barh sword saved me from a more serious injury once… twice… three times. The Zeika twirled the mace over one shoulder and a stab of fear gripped me.

Like a bird descending, the mace crashed into my outstretched arms, piercing, bruising. The tender, scarred flesh of my palms burned with pain. The Barh sword lurched dangerously in my direction as my wrists gave way. Then it locked against the chain of the mace and I wrenched the weapon from my enemy’s hands.

I tried to trip him up with my feet, and was about to take wolf form when Sarlice, Kestric and two other Rada-kin rushed to my defence.

Picking myself up, I realised the sword had paid a heavy price for my life. A hairline crack had formed across the blade, about a third the way down.

I squinted around at those who remained. Two Jarians fought desperately against one Zeika to my left. Another pair of Zeikas disappeared into the forest, one with two children tied to the saddle in front of him, the other holding a young woman in his arms, whispering into her ear.
No! This cannot be!

Across the other side of the field was a thickly bearded Zeika on a huge palomino warhorse. His captive was tied behind him with his hands and feet stretched under the girth.

The bearded Zeika dug his spurred heels into the palomino’s sides. The horse blew its nostrils and trotted through the struggling bodies. I made three bounds and stretched out my hand to catch the palomino’s reins. The animal’s neck whipped around as my weight came onto his bridle. The overburdened horse stumbled onto its knees, dislodging its rider. A hoof stabbed into the Zeika’s torso and something inside crunched.

The horse sidestepped away from the fallen man and panicked when the Jarian slid underneath its belly. The horse bucked a few times, pummelling the Jarian’s body. He hung by broken arms, elbows bloody.
I hope I didn’t cause that…
.

Still gripping the reins I allowed the horse a bit of slack. It sniffed me nervously before letting me move slowly toward the Jarian. With the utmost care I undid the thick leather straps around the Jarian’s wrists and lowered his body to the ground.

The Zeika got to his feet with a large battle-axe, blood dribbling from his mouth. Before I could do anything he fell forward onto me and I hit the ground again.

My chin and mouth were pressed hard into the dust. Rocks dug into my cheeks. I glanced up to see Sarlice, sword in hand. The sword was not her Tolite-kin, but she clearly knew how to use it. She crouched to help me struggle out from under the body. My nostrils burned from his rancid, sorcerous stench and my chest ached as I tried to breathe again.

‘Better stop that bleeding,’ Sarlice said.

Six blue-black gouges patterned my forearm, one bleeding profusely. I got hold of the Zeika’s green fur cloak with my good arm and cut it with the cracked Barh sword. Sarlice bound up the wound on my arm. When I saw the amount of blood on the bandage I was glad the frenzy of battle had distracted me from the pain. There was no parn immediately at hand and, even if there had been, there were others in greater need of drugs than me.

The Jarian who had been strapped to the palomino had stopped breathing. I felt a pang of guilt as a pair of Jarians attempted to give him the kiss of life. A third lady stood with her arms outstretched, calling upon the Lightmaker to intervene.

The Zeika legion had all but retreated, and Kestric was helping a few other Rada-kin chase the last Zeikas away. Bodies of charred fur and pink flesh were scattered about the village. I gazed around in shock, and caught bile in my throat before it could rise all the way. Both Cora and Paril were among the fallen. It had all happened so quickly.

Children and their carers crept out from various hiding places, spreading out among the fallen and searching for signs of life. I nursed my sore arm against my chest and searched the waves for Uola.

‘We are fine,’
the ram told me.
‘But Commander Uvolde is taking all the surviving elders to the fortress. I think they’re going to call all the survivors in there.’

‘How many are left here?’
I queried.

‘Of the four elders and the ten masters who were in Jaria, only eleven are thought to be alive.’
Uola replied.
‘Furthermore, Masters Namal, Curn, Rundo, Esra and Cyle have been captured, along with at least fifty others.’

‘Krii, no,’
I murmured.

He echoed the desperation in my comment with his emotions.
‘The prime, one elder and five masters have been slain, including Feera.’

‘So the thing with Feera was all part of this?’

The Rada-kin did not answer me.

‘What about the rest of the population? How many remain?’
I pressed.

‘Just forty or so,’
Uola said.
‘You and Sarlice are the only able-bodied warriors left. All those who aren’t needed here have been killed, badly injured or taken.’

‘Please tell Elders Bessed and Uvolde I’ll go after them,’
I requested.
‘Tiaro and I have business with those Zeikas. They’re holding our Rada-kin.’

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

‘We’ll pray to the Lightmaker that my Anzaii abilities are indeed manifesting,’
I replied.

Uola sent his agreement along with his heartfelt request to the Lightmaker to help me with my new abilities. When he turned his attention to his Rada, Tiaro and I lost his presence in the waves.

Sarlice followed me home and watched as I threw a number of essentials into my larger saddlebags. Regretfully, I left the cracked Barh sword lying on the table—it wouldn’t be much use to me anymore.

‘What are you doing?’ the Lythian Rada asked me.

‘I’m going to get our people back,’ I replied, ‘and Rekala. It’s up to me and you now.’

‘You’re not serious?’ she said. ‘I’m used to bad odds, but didn’t you see how easily they overwhelmed us on our own territory? How exactly do you plan to stage a rescue on theirs?’

‘I’m Anzaii now,’ I said. ‘This is what I was born for.’

‘Jaria needs you alive,’ Sarlice said. ‘I don’t think Prime Arone had this in mind when he told us to keep you away from Regar. How are you going to—’

‘Look, you can either come with me and find out or stay here and help with the clean-up,’ I said curtly.

Sarlice followed me out the back to the stable I shared with Bessed and Drea. Sarlice and I helped ourselves to the tack hanging on the walls nearby—within minutes both horses were saddled and ready to go. Sarlice climbed on Meeka, clearly struggling to keep her thoughts about our mission to herself. Her Rada-kin, Kestric, sent some of her thoughts directly to me, cocking his head at me when I didn’t respond.

After adding a bag of chaff to the saddlebags of each horse, I looked up at Sarlice’s face. She had a new bruise on her forehead and the cut from Regar’s ring was still weeping.

‘I barely know you,’ I said, ‘but it almost feels like we’re old friends. Thank you for helping me.’

‘It’s nothing,’ Sarlice replied, but we both knew otherwise.

Astor—Guiding Light
. The plaque on the statue we passed was worn with time. It was an immense carving of green stone. A human figure stood in the centre with one arm outstretched to the heavens. The other hand clutched a long spear. At the figure’s feet was a snarling dog. Behind him was the huge coiled body of a long, slender skyearl. Vines and creepers had to be cut back regularly to keep the statue from being swallowed whole by the forest. The base of the statue was scuffed and worn away by clambering feet.

I glanced up at the clouded sky. Since leaving Jaria, around midday, Kestric had been tracking the Zeikas through the forest with the help of eleven other Rada-kin.

‘It’s going to rain,’ I commented.

Sarlice’s attention remained fixed on the broken branches ahead that swayed and scratched each other in the wind. There were four different paths the Zeikas had made to confuse trackers. Kestric trotted ahead in wolf form, sniffing out what was most likely the real path. He told Sarlice and I that there were other Rada-kin ahead of us following various trails, but none had located the Zeikas yet.

Sarlice sniffed the air and glanced up at the looming clouds.

‘I think you’re right,’ she said. ‘Do you know these lands? We might need to find shelter for the night.’