by Susan Faw
Madrid sat on the back of the dragon along with a woman, a woman she knew all too well.
“Mother?” she mouthed. Shock drove all fear from her mind as she gazed into her despairing face. Shikoba’s eyes flickered over to the man holding her. When her eyes connected with Madrid’s, all urge to fight vanished. A piercing pain cleaved her mind in two. She felt an overwhelming urge to submit, but instead she resisted. The pain increased. Shikoba screamed and vomited. Something snapped in her mind, and she was falling, falling. Her spear dropped from senseless fingers to clatter on the stones below. Shikoba tumbled from the saddle, eyes glazing over, and her mouth frozen in horror. Her nervous mount danced sideways and ran off into the woods. Before it could reach the concealing cover of darkness, flame wreathed the horse. The smell of burning hair and roasting meat accompanied the mare’s screams. The horrifying noise abruptly ceased, swallowed by a ring of blinking red eyes. Sulphur wafted up to join the other odours of battle.
Marsai watched her companions split and go around the great Opaleye, but her concern was for Shikoba. She pulled on the column of water she had conjured and sent it spinning toward the dragon. The water spout grew in size and width, cutting off the dragon from the prone heart bearer.
Madrid’s focus turned to search out the source of the interference. Spying the Shamankas, his grin widened.
Marsai split the tornado and with the second vortex, sucked up the inert girl, carrying her away from the battle and down the road in the direction of their travel, but the strain of splitting the stream of magic distracted her from the dragon. The tail swung forward and crashed into the legs of her mount. Bones snapped and Marsai was tossed to the ground. The impact knocked the old woman unconscious and both funnels collapsed in a gush of water that flooded the battlefield.
Madrid laughed, and turned his attention to the annoying gnat of a man with no magic. How he thought he could stand against him was a puzzle that Madrid intended to solve. The man wheeled his horse around. An uncomprehending look of horror spread across his face as the water slewed away, revealing two unconscious companions.
Chapter 17
Sky Battle
ANGER TIGHTENED CHUTZPA’S FACE as he glared into Madrid’s cool eyes. “I know who you are, emperor. Your cruelty precedes you. You are nothing but a coward, attacking women and children.” Chutzpa spat in the dirt, his angry eyes focused on the emperor. He didn’t have a clue as to what to do to get them out of this situation. He could hardly slay a dragon. He had no magic. He was not a soldier. He wasn’t even a swordsman. He was a farmer, a grower of fruit.
Madrid laughed, his mouth twisting with a cruel smile. “You are nothing, little man. You have chosen the wrong side in this war. It is a hopeless cause they serve. You cannot stand against my strength, nor the strength of Opaleye. Your only choices are whether you’d like to die by magic, or if you would prefer I kill you with my own hands. So, how would you like to die?” His black eyes glittered. “Come now, not many get the chance to choose their fate. Just think, this will be your crowning glory to be able to choose the manner of your death. Do you choose incineration?” Opaleye sprayed a curve of flame that made Fire Dancer prance. “Or do you choose a magical death, say impalement by your own sword?” The grip of the sword tugged out of Chutzpa’s hand and floated up into the air, spinning around to face him. The silver tip pressed against his chest, just below his heart.
Chutzpa’s eyes did not leave the emperor’s. “Whether I live or die is irrelevant. The provinces are rising up against you. I am but one in a long line of people who oppose you.”
“For every sniveling rebel, such as yourself, there are many more that obey my command. You are a bug to be squashed, less than the dirt under my feet.” Madrid raised his hand above his head, and energy sparked between his fingers.
Chutzpa’s heart thumped harder as he watched Madrid prepare some kind of magical horror with which to attack him. Chutzpa’s eyes slid from the madman to the woman sitting in front of the emperor. He saw the woman’s eyes widen. She shook her head then indicated the sky with a tiny flick. Her hands were bound in front of her, but she held them up and wriggled her fingers at him. She displayed ten digits to him, then dropped one…nine…
Suddenly Chutzpa understood. He needed to keep the emperor talking. “So tell me before you kill me, what are your plans for Tunise? And before you think to lie, I already know about the slavery wagons.”
Madrid smirked. “What better way to sow dissension between the provinces than to kidnap people from both and have them blame each other? All it takes is some well-planted rumours and people jump to their own conclusions. When a society is isolated, the outside world is cast with suspicion. It takes little to inflame their fears. The Tunise believe that Shadra is stealing across the border to take their people.”
The woman held five fingers on one hand visible to him yet shielded by her body.
“The Shadrian believe the Tunisians are to blame as the wagons are driven by traders of that ethnicity.” Madrid spread his arms wide as the dragon shifted under him, a beady opal eye peering at the human. The dragon sniffed, causing Chutzpa’s clothing to flap. Fire Dancer danced back a few steps. When Chutzpa met the woman’s eyes again, she was holding up three fingers. It was almost time. He tightened his left hand on the reins. Fire Dancer, sashayed to the side, feeling the tension in his rider’s legs.
“As for my plans for Tunise, let’s just say that—” He broke off abruptly as a roar sounded in the air above him and a sizzling bolt smacked into the soil beside Opaleye, carving a hissing path toward the emperor. Opaleye twisted his head, searching for the threat, just as Obsidian sank out of a dark cloud, an avenging demon of darkness. Head first, she dove toward the elder dragon, raking a fiery death to everything in her path. With a roar to match, Opaleye launched into the sky to meet the threat in the air. As the dragon left the ground, Madrid turned and threw a spell at where Shikoba lay motionless. An orange glow encased the unconscious woman, brightening to a blinding white. The light flashed, and Shikoba was gone.
Chutzpa shouted, “No! Bring her back!” But the dragon was airborne, and his words were tossed back into his face by the surge of wind caused by the drag of the dragon’s heaving wings. “Shikoba!” he screamed, riding frantically over to where she had lain and sliding out of the saddle to sink to one knee on the ground. Only the imprint of her body remained in the soft soil to mark the place. Chutzpa’s head swiveled around searching for a sign of her but found nothing.
Grimacing, he ran over to Marsai. She lay in a pool of water. Her legs were bent in a grotesque curve, and blood slid down her cheek and dropped into the puddle by her right ear. He bent his head to her chest. Chutzpa was rewarded with a rhythmic pounding.
Straightening, he said, “Marsai, can you hear me?” There was no response.
Wasting no time, he gathered his shivering horse. Fire Dancer shied away from him but did not move far, even though he tossed his head in fear. The glowing red eyes of the Mongrels were back and the spooked stallion refused to move toward the dark woods, even to avoid a screaming human. Chutzpa picked up the unconscious woman and slung her over the horse and ran down the road, swinging up onto his back. He touched his heels to Fire Dancer’s flank and his gait lengthened to a full gallop.
Overhead, the dragons roared and flames danced across the sky. The tops of the trees lit up as they raced down the narrow road. The branches snapped, raining fiery debris all around. Fire Dancer’s eyes rolled and he chewed at the bit, froth foaming from the sides of his muzzle. Chutzpa looked neither left nor right. He had one objective, to clear out of the fishbowl before the water evaporated. He wanted nothing to do with dragons or magic. He had no weapon he could bring to bear. His only option was to flee.
***
Obsidian. Dive low and keep it steady. Sarcee clung to Obsidian’s tail, hiding amongst the spikes while he tried to get a clear view of the fully grown adult dragon bearing down on them. They had trained for the
se battles, yet he found himself hesitating. The other battles had been practice. This was real. Flames raked Obsidian’s side as she lurched to avoid the full impact of the roiling jet of fire.
Sarcee’s narrowed eyes tracked Opaleye as he dropped from the clouds above. Now they knew where the Great One had disappeared to. They had suspected that he had joined with Madrid.
Blood traitor, growled Obsidian, picking up on Sarcee’s musings.
Focus! In ten…nine…eight…Sarcee tensed, drawing a deep breath. Gathering the core of his magic and drawing on the vast well that was Obsidian, Sarcee poised on the brink of violent change. The Opaleye, spying its prey, dived toward the fleeing Obsidian, his jaws opening wide. Razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the yawning chasm. Closer and closer the attacker drew, closing the distance between the two foes. Sarcee could feel the heat of the belching flame that roared in their direction, just falling short of the pair, vanishing as it expended its energy in the cool rush of air.
Three…two…now! Obsidian flipped into a spiral diving straight for the ground and snapped her tail, levering the vortex of speed to fling Sarcee into the air toward their pursuers. But Sarcee was no longer a crow. He saw the great maw of Opaleye grow. The jaws opened wider and a ball of yellow bloomed in the back of its throat. With a roar of his own, Sarcee shifted into…
…a weasel.
Sarcee screeched. With the claws of all four furry paws extended, he dove head first into Opaleye’s right nostril. Opaleye screamed as Sarcee scratched his way up the nostril, scoring and tearing at the tender membranes of the dragon’s nose. His goal was the olfactory glands from which the dragon’s fires simmered, the core of its scariest of weapons.
Opaleye roared, abandoning his chase, and clawed at his nose, attempting to dislodge the unwelcome guest. He sneezed.
Madrid slipped out of the saddle, clinging to the horn while the dragon danced in the sky, trying to dislodge the foreign member in his nose. Opaleye screamed.
“You stupid dragon! Land, for Gaia’s sake! Land!” Madrid screamed as he pulled himself back into the saddle. Opaleye plummeted out of the sky, barely keeping his legs as he landed in the rough clearing where it all had begun. He dragged his snout across the ground, then hammered his nose on the ground, banging it over and over against the packed earth in an attempt to dislodge Sarcee.
Inside Opaleye’s nose, Sarcee was tossed like a rag doll, bouncing from side to side. No matter how deep he dug his claws, they were not deep enough to resist the constant hammering of the dragon against the ground. The mucus lining Opaleye’s nose had built up to pillow depth which was the only thing that saved Sarcee from injury. He was tossed onto his back then flung to the other side to smack into a slippery rib of cartilage. Sticky goo covered his body and oozed off his arms in long, stretchy ribbons of slime.
You need to get out of there, Sarcee. Right now, said Obsidian. I am clear of Madrid and the traitor dragon.
Sarcee jumped into the air, shaking off the clinging goo and mentally willed a change in shape. I must not touch the sides of his nose, while shifting into the shape of a fly.
With a pop, Sarcee shrank in size and wings popped out on his back. The interior of Opaleye’s nose now resembled a vast, churning cavern, but Sarcee’s multiple eyes were focused on one spot only, the oval light that shone at the far end. He zoomed toward the opening, taking a drunken path that kept him centered in the bouncing cave. As he approached the opening, his legs brushed against a field of waving cilia. With a gasp, the dragon sneezed, sending Sarcee tumbling head over wings out into the air. He barely recovered his flight before crashing into a giant dandelion where a bee six times his size buzzed an angry warning. Sarcee gulped and sped away as fast as his wings could carry him.
Where are you? he cried, I must change back but not where they can see me.
Come down the trail. You can shift around the first bend. I am hiding behind a set of rocks about a league from you.
Sarcee’s wings blurred as he fled the stamping dragon and the screaming emperor. Opaleye was raking fire in all directions, enraged by the carnage of Sarcee’s attack. Madrid flung spells at anything that moved, his bladed spell slicing into tree trunks. They wobbled and crashed to the ground, sending dust into the air. The particles of dust became missiles, flashing past Sarcee as he ducked and dodged. He was tired, and not all of the wobble in his path was due to his evasive flight. Three shifts in a span of minutes was exhausting without adding a battle to the mix.
Reaching the end of the clearing, he flew down the road. As soon as he rounded the bend, he landed on a rock and launched the shift back into his human state. Pain tore at his chest as he struggled to keep the image in his mind. As a fly, there was only so much mental process available, which is why shifting into insects was not advisable. The human image wavered in his mind, and he could feel the shift slipping away from him.
Help! Obsidian help me! His strength was fading. He couldn’t keep the likeness in his mind. If he let go, he would die. Shapeshifting was a magic that took many, many years to perfect. Do it wrong and the shapeshifter was instantly dead. Mess up a shift and your body would be spread across the skies like the heavy mists of late spring.
Obsidian, sensing his distress, filled the link with her magic, drawing Sarcee to him as would a lover. She wrapped Sarcee in her tender embrace and added her life force to his, strengthening the life bond between them.
Sarcee pulled on her strength and completed the shift to human, collapsing onto the rock. He was bathed in sweat. Every limb trembled with exhaustion.
Do you need me to come get you? said Obsidian, concern scraping along the bond.
No, stay where you are. I will come to you. Gritting his teeth, Sarcee pushed himself to his feet and began walking down the road, keeping to the edge of the woods and moving within the shadows. It was late day, he noticed, surprised. The day had passed in battle, and their fledging union shattered with the first attack. Now that the immediate danger had passed, concern for Shikoba pushed aside his other worries. Sarcee reached out with his mind, searching the bond for her.
She is alive, but I can barely sense her. She is far away. Obsidian’s thoughts paralleled his own. The emperor has sent her somewhere as his captive. We must find her. If anything were to happen to Shikoba, we will all die. Where do you think we should look for her?
It feels like she is in the direction we were travelling. I think she is at the mines, thought Sarcee.
If that is so, then we will have the emperor and Opaleye on our backs the entire journey, said Obsidian. Dare we risk another encounter?
Do you fear this dragon?
Fear? Fear! The bond sizzled with indignation.
An image of a dragon tossing a dwarf into the air and snapping its jaws closed on the figure then swallowing it, flashed into Sarcee’s mind. He grinned.
I will eat that slimy emperor the next time I see him. This I promise although he will probably taste like a toad. Djinn are not good to eat. Promise made. Now, can we go after Shikoba?
What about Chutzpa and Marsai? said Sarcee.
They will need to fend for themselves. We must protect Shikoba at all costs. She is the priority.
Agreed. You are uninjured?
My pride is singed. That is all. Hurry up. There is no time to waste.
Sarcee rounded the bend in the road and following the bond, ran up to Obsidian and climbed onto her back. With a mutually agreed urgency, they launched back into the sky, pointed straight as an arrow, to Shikoba.
Chapter 18
The Nature of the Enemy
MARSAI MOANED. Every inch of her body hurt from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers. Her head felt like an overripe melon, swollen and ready to explode at the slightest touch. Her body rocked back and forth, eliciting a groan that escaped her lips. Immediately the rocking slowed, and she sank back into oblivion, unwilling to wake.
“Shamankas, I need you to wake. Come on, open your eyes.”
The s
haking started again. Marsai cried out, her eyes opening. She could not focus them and blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. She raised her fingers to the source of the pain in her head. A row of neat stitches bound the laceration on her scalp. She winced at the sudden throb that pulsed under her hand.
“That’s it. Wake up,” said a disembodied voice.
An arm snaked around Marsai’s shoulders and eased her up off the ground. The pain was the march of fire ants, stinging a path up her legs and arms. She clutched at the arm holding her as the world spun. “Who are—”
“Chutzpa. We are safe for the moment. Come on now, drink this.”
A metal cup pressed against her lips. Marsai opened her mouth to swallow the water, grateful for its soothing path down her throat. As her vision steadied, Chutzpa swam into view. “Chutzpa. Thank you. Where are we?”
“We are a few leagues from where the attack occurred. It’s only us. We have lost the others.”
“Shikoba?”
“Gone. The emperor has her.”
A horrified expression spread over Marsai’s face. She pressed her eyelids closed, unwilling to acknowledge the fearful truth of his words. Shikoba in the hands of the emperor would be a death knell for Shadra. She was the only one who could bring down the barrier. “And Obsidian? Sarcee?”
“I do not know.” He took his supporting arm away and crossed over to his horse, rummaging through his saddle bags. Chutzpa found a small packet which he brought back to Marsai, squatting by her side. “Here, chew this. It is a tree that grows in Tunise. Its bark has a substance that will numb pain.” He took out a square piece handing it to her. “It tastes bitter at first, but that will go away. Chew the willow bark, but do not swallow it. You only want to soften it. If it starts to break down to a paste, spit it out.”