Free Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) by Amanda Greenslade

‘I’ll keep watch tonight.’
    Rekala’s understanding emotions filled my mind. She didn’t really think I’d made any bad judgements, and she had more respect for my fighting ability than she let on. We both knew I lacked experience—and a good weapon. That was obvious from the way I’d fought against Arak, but there was some basic skill there, and my fitness was at its peak.
    ‘That one you were fighting was much older than you,’ Rekala stated.
    ‘Actually, more than you know,’ I replied. ‘He looked about thirty years old, but that’s around about the time most Zeikas stop ageing.’
    Rekala struggled to comprehend. ‘Now that I understand the concept of ageing, you are telling me there are some who do not age?’
    ‘They seem to think they can live forever,’ I replied, ‘but even Zeikas aren’t immortal. They only postpone the inevitable through sorcery.’
    We trotted and loped through the forest until I could barely maintain wolf form. Rekala stopped in a tiny grove sheltered by a large tree on one side and tumble of rocks on the other. The grass was soft and green, fed by a small spring at the base of the rocks. I resumed human form carefully bringing all the gear back out of the waves with me.
    Without complaining about her own fatigue, Rekala slipped into the forest to scout for Zeika followers. I spread my blanket roll on the ground and rested my head on the still-packed hide shelter.
    Hours later, Rekala settled beside me. Her warmth and familiar smell brought a smile to my lips. There was a carnivorous tang to her breath as she chuffed beside my ear. I could just make out her still form in the darkness, a heaving mass of stripes and speckles. She appeared to be completely at rest, but her senses were alert. She would remain watchful for a few hours and allow me some needed sleep.

Chapter Five—Anzaii
    I awoke to a harmony of bird calls. The mists of dawn were thinning, but the light remained poor. Rekala was hunting deer nearby and was not having much success.
    I opened my mouth to yawn when I heard a whisper of movement above me. Strong hands hauled me up and shoved me against a tree, face first. The man grabbed my wrists, twisting them up until it hurt. A mountain barbarian?
    The man spat on the ground, gripping my wrists tighter. ‘Stop struggling, boy.’
    He didn’t have the poor speech of the barbarian mountain tribes. It was the same accent as the men from yesterday. I was just as surprised they’d taken the trouble to find me as the fact that they’d been able to.
    ‘What do you want with me?’ I demanded.
    I felt the touch of ice-fire on my wrist—he was attempting to ward me with a binding spell that would cut me off from the waves. Before the Zeika could finish the incantation, Rekala crashed through the trees, roaring ferociously.
    I wrenched free from the distracted Zeika and twisted around. It was the Warder Zeika from yesterday, looking angrier and more dishevelled. He was unable to draw his sword with Rekala attacking. She kept him busy stumbling and leaping out of her way while I quickly buckled on my bow and arrows.
    Rekala grasped the Zeika’s lower leg in her jaws and dragged him several feet. He made a grunting noise, somewhere between frustration and fear.
    Rekala ran back to me, blurring quickly into horse form. We both knew our fastest getaway would be with me riding her—I was still too bleary-eyed from sleep to make a safe transformation. I grabbed a bit of mane with my free hand and jumped onto her back, abandoning my gear. She trotted past the Zeika with a haughty flick of her tail. His pants were torn in several places and he seemed unable to get to his feet.
    Rekala sensed the approach of another horse before I could hear anything. Moments later, a chestnut warhorse thundered through the forest with Arak on its back.
    ‘Don’t they have anything better to do?’ Rekala grumbled.
    We moved out into an open field and the morning mists were suddenly lit