Tanza (9 page)

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 steel of her sword rang loudly against Fyschs.

‘“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 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 Festival of Rebirth 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 Holy Scroll of Rogash. Reading wasn’t something I often had time to do, and it reminded me of the tremendous challenges Krii had faced when he walked upon Chryne. If he had been able to face betrayal, humiliation, torture and death, surely the Jarians would survive their current ordeal.

One phrase stuck in my mind after I had finished reading, “we must set the captives free”. I took it as reassurance from Krii that the Jarian slaves would eventually be set free. Peace settled over my heart and I was able to worship my creator through the quiet hours of the afternoon.

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 scrolls. There were lively debates, quiet conversations and creative adaptations in song, poetry and performance. 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. She often became dormant when there were no Zeikas around, for her main purpose was to strengthen and train me in times of unrest.

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 bunched his immense legs under him and sprang into the air. 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 to do. But I am the Emperor of the skyearls, leading them as surely as King Crystom leads the people of Tanza. 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 feel certain that Telby and Jaria are an important part of our destiny.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I said.

Chapter Six—The Cascade City

C
iera swooped down into the lane near the oddly shaped fountain at the gates of Lantaid. I climbed slowly down from Ciera’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. I realised how accustomed I was becoming to his scent.

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.

Before we departed Lantaid, Ciera and Thita took their fill of water and palm trees. Glane and Tivac loaded 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. Thita turned out to be an expert in political matters. I discovered 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 night, 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 Fyschs from my grip with ease. Sarlice executed it time and again, leaving cuts on my wrists and bruises 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 the words straight to me.

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. I felt every inch of the blade coming alive. The edges sprouted jagged teeth, which caught on the edge of Sarlice’s weapon. Fyschs crunched against the dark steel and rent it in two.

Sarlice leapt back in shock as sparks fell around her. I lifted Fyschs into the air and shouted in exultation, the blue steel glimmering in the orange light of dusk.

‘Stop it, Talon,’ Sarlice snapped.

I lowered the sword, disappointed by her lack of support. The shining silver teeth slowly withdrew from my blade.

‘I don’t know what happened then,’ 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. ‘You just can’t admit it when I do something well can you?’

She sighed. ‘Don’t be childish.’

Childish? So she really did think of me as someone a lot younger than her. I clamped my mouth shut and sheathed Fyschs, my heart pounding. We stood there for some time not looking at each other. Maybe she was angry about me breaking her sword.

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

She waved a hand and turned away. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

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 deer, an okapi, four wild boar and a gromvi. The okapi was the size of a deer, but had an unusually long neck patterned with stripes. The gromvi was a medium-sized ape with 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.

We often flew high in the sky above the others conversing on the waves. 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 totally 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 we could hardly hear each other at all. 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.