by Susan Faw
HEART OF SHADRA
SUSAN FAW
United States, 2018
Copyright © 2018 susan faw
All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including, but not limited to, xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.
Cover Design by Venkatesh Sekar
Edited by Pam Elise Harris
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-1-989022-02-3
EPUB ISBN 978-1-989022-01-6
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Map
Prologue The Fifth Day: Shadra
Chapter 1 The Portal
Chapter 2 The First Clues
Chapter 3 Foot Race
Chapter 4 Obedience and Loyalty
Chapter 5 Jinnaga
Chapter 6 Pangolin Town
Chapter 7 The End of the Trail
Chapter 8 Fallen
Chapter 9 Dragon Attack
Chapter 10 An Unexpected Visitor
Chapter 11 Elemental Evidence
Chapter 12 Shadrian Pride
Chapter 13 The Emperor’s Pain
Chapter 14 The Tribal Queen
Chapter 15 The Secret in the Bones
Chapter 16 Here There Be Monsters
Chapter 17 Sky Battle
Chapter 18 The Nature of the Enemy
Chapter 19 The Emperor’s Prisoner
Chapter 20 Two Sets of Chains
Chapter 21 A Perfect Fit
Chapter 22 The Cave to Nowhere
Chapter 23 The Stairs to Nowhere
Chapter 24 Children of Misery
Chapter 25 Naga Palace
Chapter 26 Hatching a Plan
Chapter 27 Unintended Cargo
Chapter 28 The Dark Truth
Chapter 29 Flame
Chapter 30 The Dance
Chapter 31 New Life
Chapter 32 A Deep Breath
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About the Author
Dedication
For all who have ever felt oppression, this book is for you.
It is shocking to think that in the twenty-first century slavery still exists, but it does. It takes many insidious forms, but little has changed from ancient times.
Slavery exists to enrich the bonder and for no other purpose.
I hope that this book will shine a light on the oppressions in our modern societies.
We must stand up for what is right and what is good and for those laws that protect our individual rights and freedoms, while not oppressing our neighbour. Only then can we be truly free.
This is a global responsibility. We are one race, the human race. We are one family. Stand up for the little guy. Stand up for your kin.
Be kind and considerate of the needs of others.
Be part of the solution, not part of the problem.
Seek peace first.
Only then can all be free.
Prologue
The Fifth Day: Shadra
FAT TEARS, SURGING WITH SELF-PITY, spilled down Shikoba’s cheeks and soaked into the fur collar of her favourite coat, the hairs clumping together like wet lashes. She sobbed then tried to ease her back but the pain was too intense. Blood, moist and sticky, dribbled down her left arm and dripped from her fingers, a conduit of pain and misery.
She was a failure. Pure and simple. It did not matter what she did. The testers always found fault. She had counted her foes and measured their strength, no matter what the elders said. Shikoba had spent long hours studying all the scripts, memorizing the lay and fall of the land, and learning the intricate trails and paths. She’d known exactly how many warriors were set against her and exactly how many beat the bushes driving the predator toward her, but at the end of the day she could only do what she could do in the time allotted.
And now she had failed.
A low growl sounded from the bushes on the left side of the clearing.
An answering growl rumbled across the space from the right.
Shikoba marked the locations of the angry animals, fixing their relative positions in her mind. “Damn,” she muttered. “This is going to get ugly.”
A werecat lay on its side in the middle of the chaos, riddled with arrows and oozing blood onto the tundra. Fresh meat was rare enough that predators easily succumbed to scavenging, and the predator became prey in the blink of an eye.
A second werecat left the camouflaged safety of the scrubby twigs on the left side, while a Great White bear powered its way in from the right, both predators’ intent on the bleeding carcass resting dead center.
The problem was that Shikoba was hiding under the heavy weight of the dead werecat. As a matter of fact, the cat had collapsed on top of her as she’d thrust her bone knife under its ribs, all two hundred pounds of weight crushing her like the flat cakes served on birthday mornings. She wriggled her feet, digging her toes into the soft soil on which she lay, readying herself to spring into a dead run. When the wild beasts reached her, she would have a very narrow window of escape. She pushed back her heavy fall of ebony hair, tucking it behind her ears to clear her vision.
“Are you ready? They are coming,” she whispered to the boy at her side. Bronze curls bounced around his chubby cheeks as he nodded his head vigorously. Casper was easily double her weight, and his protective bulk was the reason she could move at all.
Casper was also the reason her strike had failed and she found herself trapped beneath the dead weight of the werecat. Once again, she was rescuing him from his clumsy, stumbling self. As best friends went Casper was top, but as a hunter he was abysmal. Yet the ritual hunt was an integral part of their coming of age. They could not come home without their werecat prizes. Casper shifted, and a heart of crystal swung out from the front of his shirt, casting refracted rainbows of light across the patches of last-season snow. He tucked it back inside his shirt then readied himself to spring.
A spitting yowl curled around them and was answered by a huffed challenge, the bear sniffing the air and then swinging upright, standing on its hind paws not ten feet from their location.
“Okay. On the count of three, grab the rope and run!” Shikoba dug her toes into loose pebbles and tensed. “One. Two. Three!” Casper heaved the werecat off them with a bellowing roar of his own, exploding to his feet with a speed born of fear and leapt for the rope swinging from a tree limb above them. The other end of the rope was tied around the torso of the dead cat. They had chosen this tree because of the wonky way it grew sideways out of the rock, leaning drunkenly over the werecat’s favorite hunting path. Casper caught the braided line in one fleshy hand. His weight dragged the carcass into the air, so that the two hung side by side. Flexing his body, he rocked himself back and forth until he was able to swing his legs up onto the cleft of rock that held the tree.
The explosion of sound from Casper’s scream froze the two snarling combatants, giving Shikoba the moment she needed to clear out. She ran screaming toward the stunted tree growing out of a crevice of rock. She leapt into the low branches and scaled the tree to the very tip, clinging to the thinning trunk with her hands. Her weight pulled on the tree tip and it bent over the rock where Casper crouched watching her. When it had tipped far enough, she let go, dropping lightly to
her feet beside him.
Running wasn’t the smartest of plans, but with all the commotion the spooked werecat abandoned the standoff and dashed off into the brush, leaving the Great White bear to sniff round at the coagulated jelly on the ground. Great White bears rarely gave chase. However, after a few licks, it reared on its hind legs once again to sniff the air, following the scent of blood to see if it could reach the prize dangling above. When it could not, it wandered away bellowing its frustration.
Casper sighed with relief as the bear ambled away, then flopped onto his back, his jowls bouncing. “I need a nap.”
“No, you don’t. Come on, we will be late.” The anxiety was back. Dawn approached, and Shikoba was not going to fail the quest.
“I don’t care. We’ve been at this all night.” Casper’s eyes drifted closed.
“Get up, you great lump! I am not going to lose first place because you are tired.”
“But I am tired!”
Shikoba smacked him with her bloodstained hand and then wiped it on her pant leg, wincing at the renewed pain in her back. “Ouch,” she muttered, not loud enough for him to hear.
Casper popped one eyelid open. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, eyeing the plump rolls of his waistline, accentuated by his twisted tunic. “Stop snacking on sea snake, and you will not look like one! That is why you are tired. A nice jog back to the village is exactly what you need.”
“I am not jogging anywhere with that.” Casper pointed at the werecat dangling from the tree. “Someone has to guard it.” His eye drifted closed again.
“Fine!” Shikoba rose to her feet, glaring at his prone form.
“You will want this. I grabbed it from the ground just before I jumped for the rope.” In his fist dangled a necklace, the twin of his own, on a broken braid of seal skin. Shikoba snatched it from his hand and tied it back in place around her neck, dropping the stone under her shirt for safety. The werecat’s claw had snagged the cord when it leapt onto her back, but she hadn’t realized she had lost it.
“Thanks.” The words came out in a grunt, as she focused on the horizon. The grey of early dawn was fading, retreating before a silken sky that had brightened in the last few minutes.
“I’ll go fetch a travois to help us bring in the werecat.” Shikoba mentally traced the route back to the village and the time needed, against the advancing sun. She had to return before the sun jumped from its bed on the other side of the world and ahead of the warriors who were tasked with witnessing their trials, to verify their victory. Maybe she could beat the warriors to the village if she ran very fast. Maybe.
Casper raised a lazy hand in acknowledgment, already drifting off to sleep. “We have until noon. There is time for a nap.” Shikoba heard his gentle snores and kicked Casper’s ankle, but he only turned on his side.
Annoyed, Shikoba climbed down the tree. The descent made her skin sting as the coarse fabric of her shirt rubbed across the swelling claw marks, but thankfully the scratches did not bleed again. She let go of the branch about five feet from the surface then hit the ground running. She set off in the direction of the village.
Shikoba ran as fast as she had ever run in her life. She flew down the trails, leaping over logs and sliding down hillsides, scrambling for every ounce of time she could gain on the warriors.
She crested the ridge at Horned Owl Rock and ran full tilt down the steep side of the hill. Gaining the valley, she turned toward the narrowed walls of the canyon. She followed the coursing stream at its base to where a shallow fording existed and then she knelt on the pebbly shore to dip her palms into the liquid to scoop up a deep drink of the clear water. Breathing heavily, she did not hear the soft movement at her back. A rock dislodged, clicking over the top of an assortment lining the stream. Shikoba spun around, a knife coming to her hand from the hidden sheath strapped to her arm.
A black-eyed dragon with iridescent grey scales stared at her, puffs of smoke curling from its rounded nostrils. Four times as tall as she, the dragon towered above her. Long lashes covered silver-lidded obsidian orbs, through which shone a clear intelligence.
A female dragon? Shikoba thought as she slowly rose, her palms facing the dragon with fingers spread wide as if to say Whoa there, beautiful. Calm down. I won’t hurt you. Where have you come from? Shikoba’s eyes drank in the sight, disbelieving the proof before her. Dragons did not exist on Gaia.
“Of course, you won’t hurt her,” said a disembodied voice. “She is the extension of your own soul. She has come for you. I believe you are the agitated one.”
At the sound of the voice, Shikoba froze and then crept around the dragon to see who sat on it. A young man with dark intense eyes stared back, unblinking.
“You can hear my thoughts?” she said, staring suspiciously at the boy.
His lips twisted into a smirk. “In a way.” His age was near her own age of fifteen, or so she thought. “It is time.” He held out his hand. “Come.”
The dragon’s head twisted back to Shikoba. A soft crooning filled her throat and a wave of peace flooded Shikoba. The calming song drew away her anxiety so that she knew no fear. Kindness was reflected in the dragon’s dark orbs. Her thick lips curled. Shikoba fancied she was smiling at her, or as close as a dragon could get.
Shikoba stared at the pair, then blinked, breaking eye contact. She slid her knife back into its sheath and placed her hand in the boy’s proffered palm. He pulled her onto the dragon behind him, and together they disappeared into the dawn.
Chapter 1
The Portal
A THICK COLUMN OF SMOKE rose from the moonlit vortex, as though the world below had been rolled into a single prayer pipe and set ablaze by the fervour of the people. Black lightning flashed in the roiling clouds, glossy as volcanic glass against the expanding midnight vapour. The column narrowed to where it exited a small chimney-sized opening in the invisible barrier, a barrier that was unnatural. The prayers of the people were meant to soar to the heavens, free to be received by the Great Spirit without interference, without encumbrance.
Fingering the tall staff that rode at her hip, Shikoba of Shadra studied the prayer cloud. Passing through the magical barrier had changed it and altered its composition. The prayers of her people were a peaceful gift, not this angry tempest of spirit.
She leaned in close to her dragon’s head and yelled into Obsidian’s ear, “Don’t fly through the prayers. Don’t disturb them in any manner. If the spirits are in communion with people, disturbing their pleas could be deadly for us.” One shining black eye blinked to acknowledge her instructions, and Obsidian dipped her claw-tipped wing to put them in a gentle arc that circled the cloud but lowered them incrementally with each full turn while keeping a safe distance from the tempest.
There was one other companion on this flight, Shikoba’s Dragonmerger companion, Sarcee, who also happened to be a Djinn from the Isle of Jintessa. The Djinn sat on her shoulder, clinging to the white robes covering her tanned arm with the tenacity of the praying mantis whose form he had chosen for the journey across the time-altering sea. It was their magic, Djinn and dragon combined, that made it possible for Shikoba to complete the triad. Dragon, Djinn, and human were united in purpose, sharing mind, strength, and ultimately the goal of toppling the barrier that separated Shadra from its neighbours.
“How do you intend to breach the opening?” Sarcee yelled. Gifted with telepathic thought, a side effect of the triad bond they shared, he switched to the internal communication they preferred. If we fly into that vortex, we will surely die. And the barrier is equally as deadly. The emperor knows we are coming and has set up defenses beyond the regional barriers to keep us away.
We use the prayers of my people, thought Shikoba. I am one of them. I can pray to the celestial spirits, too. They will hear my prayer and give aid. Prayer is the strongest magic there is.
Then give it a try, said Sarcee. Pray that the good spirits will help us.
Shikoba closed her oval e
yes and sent an entreaty to the spirits. There were many spirits, but the Great Spirit was chief. The lesser spirits could hear though, so she was careful to not offend them. She did not have a prayer pipe, so she imagined the sacred vessel in her hand and held it out before her. She prayed to the elements of the four winds, calling them by name and raising her pipe to each birthplace: north, south, east, and west, calling for their blessings and their gifts. From Obsidian’s swaying back, Shikoba mimed grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground and tossing it to the air, uttering a sacred vow to protect Mother Earth and beseeching her protection in exchange.
Shikoba’s hands rose into the air and she pointed the imaginary pipe at the sky. A faint outline shimmered into being between her hands. Barely visible, the spirit form was two feet long and decorated with feathers and stones that dangled from its slim length. Sarcee cocked his triangular-shaped head, stretching to see the ghostly object. Shikoba did not seem to notice the phantom pipe in her hands.
Trance-like, she prayed to the Great Spirit, murmuring the words “Thank you, Great Spirit, for the gift of the elements from which all magic is formed. Shelter and protect us now, as we aid your people.” She prayed for guidance and wisdom and knowledge, mimicking the actions of the elders at every prayer gathering since she had been born.
Shikoba opened her eyes. The roiling cloud had risen higher into the air and broadened as the prayers sought their destination. Some of the prayers were lost, wandering about the sky as though their guidance had been damaged by the restricted passage through the chimney, altering their path. A couple of the more aggressive prayers veered off from the main group and shot toward Obsidian. Shikoba cried a warning to Obsidian, but she had already seen the speeding missive. She dived below the elongating finger of thought, her speed sweeping the prayer apart.