Tanza (43 page)

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

‘Thank Krii our passage into Shamayim is not an arithmetic of good works,’ Ciera said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Though we don’t know how long it will keep them in, for they will work the same magic they worked to breach it in the first place.’

‘Long enough for Tanza to re-establish its army, I hope.’

Ciera seemed sad when he replied, ‘The last battle of Tanza may be over, but the war is only beginning.’

Chapter Thirty-one—Exile

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

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

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

Though he was not yet sworn-in as king, Tyba had assumed the responsibility of leadership from his mother. He and a number of Ravran officials were laying out plans for how to feed and care for the Tanzan refugees until some more permanent accommodation could be constructed.

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

‘Your eye,’ he said. ‘Is it painful?’

I shrugged. ‘A little.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘He was in a rage.’

‘We tried to stop him.’

‘I ordered him to let go.’

‘He brutally attacked Corypha.’

‘It’s not our way.’

‘We have trials for prisoners for a reason.’

‘He was out of control.’

‘He had combat fatigue.’

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

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

‘There will need to be a trial. Do you wish to say anything, Talon?’ he said.

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

‘You were holding him!’

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

‘Through the bars?’

‘Aye.’

‘How do you know?’

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

‘Enough,’ said Tyba. ‘It sounds like there will have to be a trial.’

‘Until then he will have to be incarcerated,’ said Commander Saige.

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

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

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

‘Why should it not? Is an Astor above the law now?’ This from Saned.

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

‘Talon isn’t violent by nature,’ the Emperor contradicted him.

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

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

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

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

‘Sire?’

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

‘No, please.’

‘If the full force of the law was applied, the punishment for the manslaughter of a fellow Tanzan is exile for one year,’ Tyba said. ‘Talon and Ciera would not be allowed in Tanza or Ravra.’

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

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

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

It had not occurred to me that Corypha would have starved to death in there had I not gone to interrogate him. Ironic.

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

‘It was self-defence.’

‘It was murder.’

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

Jett, who had narrowed his eyes, gave me a small nod. At that moment I knew that, whatever happened, Jett would investigate Saned.

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

A low growl burbled inside Ciera like a distant roll of thunder.

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

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

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

Commander Saige and Prince Tyba conversed for a few minutes. He came to a decision. A combination of relief and fear flooded through me.