by Susan Faw
Obsidian growled deep in her throat, a rumbling snore that shook the branches of the bare trees nearby. Smoke curled from her glowing snout, lit from inside by the flame she held in check. She had lost an egg to the thief and the mention of her lost offspring made her long for battle.
Shikoba walked over to Obsidian and patted her shoulder. “We will find your child, Obsidian. I promise,” she said in a soft voice, but then it hardened. “And when we do, we will make the perpetrator pay. But this is bigger than you or me. We fight to free all of Gaia and in doing so, we will find all the stolen hatchlings if they are here.” Shikoba turned on the spot, frowning. “We still need to find the Shamankas, however, and the only way I can think of is to fly. We need to search from the air.”
“What makes you think she is still in this area?” asked Sarcee.
“She is a Shamankas. She will never leave this area. It is the source of her power. She draws strength from the sacred swamp.” Shikoba turned in the direction where the swamp was suspected to be located. “In fact, I will bet that is where she is. All of this,” she waved her hand at the scorched clearing, “was likely a decoy, now that I come to think about it, a place for her enemies to attack without touching her. It feels like the kind of thing she would do. She was too smart to get caught this way.” Shikoba walked over to the low-walled stone well and peered over its edge. The well fell away a good thirty feet. The sides were dry and moss free. At the base rocks could be seen, but nothing grew within the hollow chamber. “See? The well is dry. No one has used this for water in a very long time.”
“Well, she has one furious enemy then. They made sure she could never return. This place has died forever,” said Sarcee.
“Which makes him or her a powerful enemy of ours with a dragon of their own. We must be on our guard at all times,” said Shikoba, “lest we be taken by surprise.” Shikoba strode over to Obsidian’s back and climbed into the saddle.
“I will search from the air, too. I can fly lower than Obsidian.” Sarcee shifted into a crow and launched himself into the air, disappearing over the height of the trees.
Shikoba watched him go then patted Obsidian’s glossy grey scales. “Let’s find the Shamankas.”
Obsidian roared, then launched into the air. The powerful strokes of her wings swept them into the sky, the cool air rushing by Shikoba’s face. Shikoba felt a thrill of excitement. She loved to fly. Despite her worry over finding their objective, she grinned. Shikoba felt free of the burdens of responsibility when she was in the air. For a short time, she could imagine that there was no looming war, no stolen eggs, no imprisoned provinces. She could imagine that the sparkling white snow below was pure and clean, and free of lies and deceit.
A dark patch in the midst of the snowy landscape announced the presence of the swamp. A dense cloud of mist hid everything. Shikoba had forgotten about the mist. “Obsidian, we can’t see anything from up here. The fog hides the ground!”
I will dive into the mist and see if we can fly low over the swamp. If not, Sarcee can scout it out as a crow. Obsidian swooped toward the mist, and they plunged into the cloud. It was dense and wet, dampening her skin the second they made contact with it. Shikoba was shivering before they had flown more than a few feet through the clinging fog.
“This isn’t going to work,” she shouted.
I agree. Obsidian leveled out then rose up through the cloud, breaking through the top into blinding sunshine. But sunshine did not burn like this.
With a gasp, Shikoba screamed, “Dragon!” Obsidian twisted away from the roaring gout of flame, presenting her belly to the all-consuming fire to protect her rider. She dived back into the mist to hide them, but their attacker knew their location and flames followed, melting across the path of their last trajectory. Obsidian twisted again, diving low to avoid the spiraling gout of flame. Fire raked her right wing, and she roared in anger and twisted again. Too late, she saw the trees. They bounced off one tree and then another and another, crashing through the swamp like a runaway boulder down a mountainside. Obsidian furrowed through the undergrowth, sliding to a muddy halt on the ground, panting with pain. Shikoba groaned and released her legs, falling to the cooling surface. Her skin was a mass of blisters from the right side of her face down her arm and her leg, her clothing burnt away in places. She was burning up, she could feel the dragon fire racing under her skin, seeking more flesh to devour. She retched and staggered toward the edge of a duckweed-filled pond. Shikoba collapsed into the water, submerging herself in the pool and sinking below the surface as the light faded from her eyes.
***
Bright flashes lit the fog as though a million fireflies had coordinated their illumination, but this was no firefly.
Dragon fire, thought Marsai as she watched the flames spread overhead. She heard a dragon scream, then she staggered as the ground shook from an impact that made the permafrost surrounding the swamp jiggle. Trees snapped and crashed to the ground. The roar was deafening, but it did not disturb her unconscious passenger slung over the saddle of the gelding. Marsai remained still until silence descended over the swamp. She listened for the return of the frog song, that underlying croak that assured all was well. When it did not return, she tied the gelding carrying the man and her own mare to a tree trunk.
Marsai did not need her moccasins to point the way this time. She could see the glow of the burning trees, dissipating the mist surrounding the green canopy. It pointed like an arrow to the impact point. Marsai frowned.
Why have the dragons returned now? Why do they interrupt my sanctuary? She edged closer to the point of impact, keeping to the shadows cast by the swamp willows as she worked her way across the ground on paths known only to her. As Marsai drew closer to the spot, the fires dimmed as the encroaching fog dampened their flames. With a last spluttering spurt, the swamp was swallowed by the dark, but not before she spied the object of her search. A woman lay in the water, held above its surface by the claw of a dragon. As Marsai watched, the dragon lifted the unconscious girl and placed her on the ground. A smoking snout protruded from beneath two glowing eyes, eyes that were fixed on her exact location. The great muzzle opened displaying sharp white teeth back lit by a growing flame. The dragon’s rumbling, warning growl vibrated deep within in her chest.
Chapter 10
An Unexpected Visitor
MARSAI HELD UP HER HANDS to Obsidian, pleading for calm, and said aloud, “Be at peace, great dragon. I mean you no harm, nor any harm to your rider. I am a friend.” The rumbling increased, and the dragon snapped at the air, demonstrating all too clearly what would happen if she took a further step. “Your rider, she is hurt. I wish only to help her. My name is Marsai.”
The dragon tilted her head, considering the small grey-haired woman in front of her. She rumbled once again, but the fires dimmed in her snout. Her great head turned in the direction of the unconscious Shikoba.
“This is a night for surprise visitors to my swamp. You are the second lot to enter my realm this evening.” The dragon blinked and lowered her head to rest on her legs, much like a dog would, but her eyes did not leave the Shamankas and her rumbling dimmed but did not cease. “I am going to examine the girl, all right?” When the dragon did not threaten her again, Marsai took a tentative step towards the girl. She left the protection of the woods and stepped out into the open just as a bird dropped to the ground in front of her. But before the crow landed, it transformed into a black-haired youth. Surprised, she stopped walking. “A shapeshifter,” she said. “What a rare ability.”
The shapeshifter took in the scene, then turned to the dragon. Some form of silent communication ensued, for she saw the dragon shake her head in agreement. The lad turned back to Marsai and said, “I am Sarcee. This is Obsidian, and the girl is Shikoba of Shadra. We have been searching for you, Shamankas.”
“Shikoba?” said Marsai in a voice sharpened by surprise. Forgetting her fear, she hurried over to the fallen girl and knelt by her side. She placed a hand o
n her forehead then pressed her fingers against the side of her neck. “She is alive but badly hurt.” She ran her hands down her limbs searching for broken bones. “A fractured right wrist,” she muttered, “and severe burns. I cannot treat her here. You must come with me to my hut. I have a spare horse to carry her on.” She stood up, searching the sky for a sign of danger. The mist had returned, shielding them from view. “Obsidian should be safe here. The swamp will hide her. Your enemy will be searching from above. They will not enter the swamp. It is too dangerous to fly below the mists. There are no safe places to land and no safe way to navigate the fog.” She placed her hands on her hips, examining the long runway that had been created by their tumble from the sky. “Until now. You have created the perfect hiding place for a dragon with your fall. Can you remember its location, mark its place in your mind?”
Sarcee turned to the dragon and said aloud, “Can you find this place again?”
The dragon huffed a response to Sarcee, who turned back to Marsai. “She says that she knows where we are and will be able to find her way here again. She thinks this is a good place to hide and recover while Shikoba heals.” He turned to Obsidian. “We have found the Shamankas. That was our objective. I will heal your wing here,” said Sarcee.
Obsidian rumbled her approval of the plan.
Sarcee addressed Marsai. “I will come with you as far as your hut to know the way then return to tend to Obsidian.”
“Then I will fetch the horses.” Marsai hurried into the trees and returned a short time later leading the two equines. Sarcee’s eyes widened at the sight of a man strapped to the saddle.
Seeing Sarcee’s surprise and apprehension, Marsai said, “He is my first rescue this evening. It seems that I will have a full house of injured people to treat tonight. You can ride behind Shikoba on my mare. I will lead the horses.” She dropped the reins of the gelding, then led her mare over to Shikoba’s side. “Help me get her up into the saddle.” Sarcee crouched beside Shikoba, and they lifted her onto the horse together. Sarcee scrambled up behind Shikoba, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.
“I will be back shortly, Obsidian.” The dragon snorted acceptance and licked at the charred skin on her wing.
Marsai led them out of the freshly carved clearing and onto a trail that only she could discern. To Sarcee, the swamp looked the same in all directions, a black bubbling cauldron of murky waters, just waiting to suck an unwary foot down into its quagmire of roots and muck. The horses tested the ground carefully, and Sarcee let the Shamankas’s mare pick her way over the uneven ground. The horse was used to the swamp and was keenly aware of her footing. He did not wish to disturb it.
Into the silence, broken only by frog song and the sucking sound of horses’ hooves on mud, Sarcee spoke. “It is fortunate that you found us. I do not believe we would have been able to navigate the swamp from the ground. Your swamp is…interesting.”
Marsai quirked an eyebrow as she glanced back over her shoulder. “It is my home. I would have no other.”
“You have been living in the swamp your entire life? Or only since the dragon attack?”
“Ah, so you saw what remains of my hut on the edge of the swamp?” She laughed. “It was only ever a meeting place. My true home does not have visitors. Not even Casper knows of it. You will be the first. Tell me, Sarcee, you are not human. I can tell, although the disguise is very convincing. Your aura is all wrong for a human. What are you?”
“You are correct, Shamankas.” Sarcee chose to use her formal title. It felt wrong to address her by her given name. “I am a Djinn. Shikoba is the third in our triad merger. I am a Dragonmerger, selected from the most elite of the Djinn, to perform this special bond. Djinn and dragon merging is common, but triads are not and especially with a human. It requires a special talent to create a stable bond.”
“You were selected to aid the heart bearers? Is that it?”
“Yes, Shamankas.”
“The ability to shapeshift must be useful to the triad. I have often wished I had such an ability. But my gifts are in healing and prophecy. Tell me, does the shape-shifting ability extend to Shikoba, too?”
“No, she does not have the ability. I have never heard of a human with it. It is a special form of magic, extending from your dragon. It is difficult to explain, but the closest description I can give is the transformation that occurs with a butterfly. Think of the changes a caterpillar goes through. While in the cocoon what was is no more. What emerges is a butterfly. The shift is hidden behind the skin of the cocoon. When I transform, my bones melt and the skin heats up, and I can change into any living thing that I have viewed. I choose a crow because I like to fly and my eyes are sharper in bird form.”
“So a human could learn to shape-shift if they had the spark of magic required?”
“Yes, the dragon could enhance the ability, I am sure. But I have never heard of a human with that spark.”
Marsai walked along in silence, thinking. “Times are changing. I think the ability exists in humans, but that it has been suppressed. There are a great many changes on the horizon. Gaia will never be the same.”
Fifteen minutes of walking brought them to a gentle rise in the center of the swamp. At first Sarcee could not see the building standing at its center. Great waves of steam rose from geysers around the edge of the hillock. The Shamankas did not pause but walked directly toward the center geyser. As she approached it, she muttered a string of words under her breath and the geyser shut off, the water splashing back onto the rocks and rolling off into the swamp. A wet stone path was revealed and beyond that a stone structure like a mini castle, complete with turrets capped in hammered copper, green with exposure. A large red door was set in the wall, accessed by a drawbridge of woven reeds, over a swampy moat.
“Come. We have arrived.” She walked past the dormant geyser and as soon as the horses passed the boundary, the geyser shot back into the sky. Marsai’s horse did not react, but the stranger’s gelding snorted and rolled its eyes, shying away from the steaming waters. “Help me get these two inside. Leave the horses. There is no place for them to go, and they can forage for a bit.”
Sarcee helped Marsai carry the two injured people across the moat and to the great red door. First they brought in Shikoba, Marsai backing through the front door. The hall was dim, but lights flared at their entrance, the source a series of torches encased in metal cages attached to the walls of the passage. The tiled hallway was long and narrow with deeply carved doors exiting off its length.
“Third door on the right,” Marsai directed, jerking her head to indicate the correct room.
The door opened onto a bedroom furnished with a single bed, a washstand and some pegs on the wall for hanging clothing. They laid Shikoba down on the bed then returned for the man, who they put into an identical room across the hall.
“Take the horses around the back. You will find a small barn there. Tend to their needs and then return. I will see what I can do for these two.” Marsai watched as the Djinn left the room then sat on the edge of the bed to examine the strange man’s injuries. She peeled off his bloody tunic, revealing an arrow wound, the immediate area slick with bright red blood. His chest hair was matted into a congealed mess. Frowning, Marsai probed the wound, muttering a curse when her probing detected the broken section of the shaft still embedded in his chest. She stood up and hurried over to the wash basin where a carafe of water stood beside the empty clay bowl. She emptied the water container then grabbed toweling and brought them back to the man’s side, placing them on the floor. She then hurried from the room, making her way to an intersecting corridor. The hallway to her left was lit by natural light, and she followed the tiles until it spilled out into a great room. Cathedral ceilings were supported by arches of carved fir and spruce bleached white like the bones of a sea drake. Tall windows made up one wall and cast the room in a greenish glow, a reflection of the riot of vegetation that pushed up against it.
Marsai crossed
the expansive floor, her feet falling silent on the braided rugs that warmed the stone. Set to either side of a circular fireplace were stone nooks set with glass doors. She pulled open the right-hand one, fetching bandages and her sewing kit.
Returning to the man’s side, she probed the wound once again, then rolled him onto his side as Sarcee re-entered the room. She motioned him to her side. “Could you hold him like this? I need to remove the shaft that is still in his shoulder. Best to do this while he is unconscious.” Sarcee took the weight of the stranger in his arms, holding him tight and Marsai set to work. She retrieved a short knife from her kit and sharpened it on a stone then set to work loosening the offending wood. Blood gushed anew and soon soaked the towels she had placed beside him. She put down the knife and picked up a set of bone tweezers, grabbing the slick piece of wood and pulling it out slowly. Twice they slipped off the slick shaft, but after a few minutes of determined work she retrieved a two-inch-long stem. Marsai dropped the wood in a bowl then set about cleaning the wound, slathering it with her own special concoction of honey and ground herbs found only in the swamp. The honey was a natural antibiotic, and the herbs soothed the pain of the raw wound. Marsai finished bandaging the man, placed her hands front and back of the piercing and murmured a few words that were unintelligible to Sarcee. The wound heated then cooled.
“You may lay him down now. He will sleep for a while longer. Come, let us tend to Shikoba.”
Marsai got to her feet, groaning a bit with the effort, then gathered up her supplies and led Sarcee across the hall to Shikoba’s bedside. As they entered the room, a dark cloud obscured the early morning light streaming through the window. Startled, Marsai hurried over to it and peered out. The window exploded in a gout of flame. Shards of glass, pewter mullions, and Marsai were hurled across the room. She struck the stone wall with a sickening thud, crumpling to the cold, grey floor.