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

these Zeikas could not possibly understand the relationship between Rada and Rada-kin. A group had surrounded me, all dressed alike in dark green tunics, black leathers and pale green cloaks. A shadow fell over me. The man’s features swam in my vision, but I perceived an unnatural smoothness to his skin. He might have been twenty-five, but for the piercing green eyes, that burned with ancient hatred.
    Arak rode over on his warhorse. So it was he who had driven me to the ground. The animal bounced and snorted in agitation, but seemed unharmed by our collision. Arak had pulled my arrow out of its flank, leaving an open wound that streamed blood. When Arak saw the green-eyed man, he visibly trembled.
    ‘High Commander Jonaal,’ Arak stammered, ‘I didn’t know you were on your way to join us.’ They seemed comfortable talking to each other in Telbion.
    ‘Somebody had to find out what in Zei’s name you were doing, underling,’ he shouted. ‘Explain this!’
    He pointed at me and a crackle of fire appeared on the tip of his finger.
    ‘I have brought him to prove the will and power of Zei,’ Arak replied. ‘This is the Kriite we were sent to find.’
    The green-eyed warleader glared at Arak and muttered a curse of some kind. The injured warhorse reared and dislodged its rider, then galloped away like Zei himself was on its tail. Maybe he was… Arak struck the ground again.
    ‘Fool Warder,’ Jonaal hissed. ‘You ran off and did this without consulting me, a Summoner. You will suffer the consequences.’
    Jonaal’s voice was rough and deep with an accent unfamiliar to me. I remembered his name from my schooling in Jaria. He was the high commander of the Zeika Legions, second only to Bal Harar, and bearing near equal power. And here he was standing right before me. What is this?
    ‘Are you Anzaii?’ he asked me.
    I stared at him, shaking my head.
    Arak stood to his feet, clutching his side.
    ‘This is the wild Rada from the ancient line,’ he shouted angrily. ‘His face matches the picture we’ve all been shown. I recognised him outside a bar in Tez. Zei sent him to me. Look at his wrist.’
    He grasped my arm, bearing the underside. Against my dark olive skin, the livid white talon scar was clearly visible. I saw the hawk in my mind; a memory that would haunt me forever. It dropped from the sky like a rock, claws outstretched to snare its meal. I saw it a split second before it arrived and instinctively threw up my arms. The raptor’s claws snapped closed over my wrist before it realised I was too heavy to carry off .
    I shook my head, fighting to think straight. They could only know about my scar if I was very well known to them. That meant two things—first—Jaria had been infiltrated by Zeikas at some point—and second—these enemies had me mistaken for somebody important. Little did they know that I was merely a Rada, and a new one at that.
    Rekala tore the arrow out of her tail with her teeth, but by then the Zeikas had her surrounded. She roared at her aggressors. I felt sick listening to her frustrated whine-growls. What would they do to her? With that many weapons pointed at her, she now knew better than to rush one of the Zeikas. Her rational, human sense of self-preservation won out over primeval, animal bloodlust.
    ‘He does look like Joram, doesn’t he?’ Arak mused.
    ‘Hold your tongue or I’ll rip it out of your head.’ Jonaal touched Arak’s face with one finger and a tear appeared in the flesh of his cheek, shooting outwards to his ear. With an earsplitting scream, Arak staggered back, blood pouring down his face and neck. This must have been the Zeika’s rending magic, which I hadn’t witnessed since I was a child. If Jonaal was a Summoner, that meant he also possessed all the powers available to a Zeika. With him nearby, my chances of escape seemed bleak.
    Arak continued to wail.
    ‘Silence,’ Jonaal snapped. ‘You have interfered in a larger plan, Arak, and for that you