Heart of Shadra

by Susan Faw

  “One of the boxes of rations that are fed to the slaves.”

  “Okay, I will take one with me.”

  The man nodded and opened the door to the store room, leaving it open for Chutzpa to slip inside. They exchanged clothes, then Chutzpa slipped back outside, his darts and blow gun hiding up his sleeves. He could do nothing about the lack of chains on his feet, but he hoped that the anomaly would be missed in the dim lighting and activity of the pit. He shouldered the box on his left side leaving his right hand and arm free. He mimicked the jerky gait of the other prisoners, hoping to give the illusion of his feet being bound and slumped his shoulders with dejection.

  Chutzpa moved slowly toward his destination, watching for Deshi’s signal. He threaded his way closer to the platform, to all eyes just another slave doing his jailer’s bidding. As he walked, he realized he had forgotten to ask where the box was to be delivered to.

  As he shuffled along, a guard yelled out, “Hey one eye, are you bringing lunch or not? Break time is almost over.” Chutzpa raised his head a fraction, keeping his face averted, and moved in the direction of the voice. A tent of sorts stood against a stone wall. Four posts and a stretch of canvas was all that defined the space, but underneath, hungry workers huddled waiting for their daily ration. Chutzpa kept his eyes averted as he moved under the canopy and placed the box on the ground. As he moved away from the box, he hazarded a glance at the guard, but he paid him no attention, as he focused on his meal.

  Chutzpa had spied the perfect place from which to position himself for his attack: a cluster of barrels filled with sand. Chutzpa settled into position just as Deshi came out of the tunnel. He walked up the ramp, deposited his bag of salt, then retraced his route. He paused at the base of the ramp and stretched, hands pointed at the ceiling.

  Chutzpa climbed up on top of the tallest barrel, pulling his pipe from his sleeve. Phfff, phfff, phfff. The darts flew in rapid succession, dropping the guards one by one. But his last dart missed. The guard seemed to sense it coming and stepped to the side just before it struck. It clattered onto the tracks, out of range for retrieval. Cursing, Chutzpa leapt off the barrels and ran at the guard, pulling his knife. Lightning split the air above him, and loud booms echoed around the chamber. Flaming debris fell about him as he ran at the last guard. There was something familiar about him. The guard turned.

  It was Zax.

  Shock seared through Chutzpa’s body. His mind could not comprehend that he was seeing. Zax? What are you doing here in that uniform? He stumbled, nearly dropping his knife. Zax showed no surprise but calmly brought up his blade to meet the attack.

  “Zax!” Chutzpa screamed. “What the hell are you doing?” He crashed bodily into his brother. They tumbled into the side of a cart, rocking it on its rails. Zax grabbed Chutzpa’s wrist, twisting it and sending him to his knees. Chutzpa kept going, pulling his brother down. The pair rolled over and over, each trying to gain the upper hand as confusion reigned in the pit. “Zax, stop this madness! I am here to help you escape!”

  “Escape? I am here willingly, brother.” Zax’s hand wrapped around Chutzpa’s wrist, bending it back in an attempt to force him to drop the knife. His knife snaked towards Chutzpa’s throat. In desperation, Chutzpa grabbed Zax’s forearm, forcing the blade away. “Why did you come?” Zax said. “I burned everything to the ground. You were supposed to think I died in the fire. You always were dense.”

  Tears of pain burned in Chutzpa’s eyes. He thought his wrist might snap. He forced his knee between him and his brother and with a mighty shove broke Zax’s hold on him.

  Chutzpa regained his feet, holding his knife in front of him. Slaves moved about him, battling guards and crying in terror. Bodies littered the ground around them. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

  “Do you really think I wanted to be a beekeeper?” He laughed. “When the emperor offered me a much more lucrative employment, I jumped at the opportunity. The Shadrian are little more than savages. Perfect slaves. I am paid handsomely.” His smile faded and his face darkened. “But you are messing that up. For that, brother, you will die. You should have stayed in Tunise.” Zax lunged at his brother, knife raised and lethal intent etched on his face.

  Chutzpa stepped back and twisted, planting his back foot. His brother overshot his target. Instead of striking Chutzpa’s neck, Zax’s knife grazed his recently healed shoulder. Blood gushed from the deep cut that was meant to end his life. Chutzpa gasped in pain, as the blood flowed down his arm to drip from his elbow to the stone floor. His weapon slid in his hand as he raised it higher.

  “Zax, I beg you, stop this madness! The emperor is evil! He is enslaving women and children. He is killing off an entire people. This is not who you are.”

  “Not who I am? You never knew who I was, Chutzpa. You were happy to ship me off to apprentice with that old coot after our parents died.” He flicked his knife in Chutzpa’s direction. “Do you really think our parents’ death was an accident?” Zax shifted his feet, moving around his brother, searching for an opening. “Do you think that the emperor just hands out assignments like this? I had to earn it,” he sneered. “I had to prove I was willing to do anything commanded of me. I had to prove I was strong enough to serve him. So I did. I killed our parents.”

  Chutzpa’s eyes widened at his brother’s words, and then his ears burned. But it was not from the cut on his neck. White hot fury coursed through his veins. “You killed our parents?” Chutzpa’s voice was quiet, but his anger surged hot, igniting his resolve.

  Zax laughed. “Yes. And I brought their bodies to the emperor to prove my dedication. I stuffed them in a couple of barrels and took them to the Citadel. All so that I could win this reward, to become a chief steward of the mine.” Zax flicked his bloody knife indicating the turmoil around him. “Now, dear brother, for your little demonstration here, you can join father and mother.” Zax launched himself at Chutzpa with such ferocity that he stepped back and slipped on the blood-slicked rock. The slip saved his life as he jerked to the right and Zax’s blade missed. Chutzpa’s reflexes took over and he threw up his hands, one of which clutched the knife. Zax’s momentum carried him onto Chutzpa’s blade, with sickening ease. The knife slid between Zax’s ribs, the tang sliding right up to the handle, piercing his heart. Zax jerked, his eyes widening in surprise. Chutzpa fell backward, carried by Zax’s sudden dead weight. He slid off the blade and crumpled onto the ground.

  Shock froze Chutzpa under the corpse of his dead brother. His eyes blurred as he stared at the blood dripping down his arm and spreading across the ground at his side. Tears ran unchecked down his face. Confusion numbed him to everything around him.. With a shudder, he threw the knife aside.

  The night exploded with light, jerking him back to reality and the perilous place he was trapped within. A staff clattered to the ground a few feet in front him. It had a metal tip that flickered with a couple of strands of lightning and then went dark as the light faded away. It was Shikoba’s staff. He bent and picked it up. Chutzpa raised his eyes to the flames above him, searching for a sign of the Shamankas.

  A rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hey, get going! What are you doing standing there?” Deshi shoved Chutzpa into an empty mine cart and pulled the brake. The cart rumbled down the track. Deshi rode in the one right behind him. The other carts filled when the slaves discovered the way was clear to flee via the rails. Chutzpa’s hands gripped the sides of the cart as with a sickening lurch he was swallowed by the dark, dank tunnel.

  Chapter 29

  Flame

  MARSAI EDGED OUT on to the first of the thin ledges that ran between the barrels of oil around the circumference of the walls of the mine pit. An ingenious collection of stone troughs supplied a steady stream of oil from the base of the barrels to the lower levels of the pit. They terminated in flat bowls that burned with an eternal flame. The bowls pushed back the darkness and supplied a steady light to the interior, necessitating the use of torches only for the tunnels an
d transition points.

  The barrels also afforded her an opportunity to not only create a distraction, but also to take out one of the main necessities of the mine—light to work by. The constant supply of oil meant that the excavating could continue day and night.

  The ledge was narrow, barely as wide as her boot, and slick with accumulated oil. She clung to the ledge, refusing to acknowledge the seven-story drop below her. One slip and she would be dead. She didn’t need to see to know the truth of it, so she kept her focus on the task at hand. The barrels were tucked under stone outcroppings and filled through a stone chimney through the rock above each node. They were also made of stone. The only weakness was that the top of the barrel was open to allow airflow. It was the narrowest of gaps to try to hit, no more than a hand’s breadth in width across the top. From above, the barrels could not be breached. To exploit the weakness, Marsai needed to get a good shot away, and to do that she needed the access afforded by the ledges. That alone would cut down the angle.

  Marsai clung to the rock face, moving her feet a few inches at a time. Her toes dug into the slab through the soft leather of her soles, searching for any purchase they could find. With a relieved sigh, she moved over to stand beside the first barrel. Her legs quivered with the effort.

  I am too old for this, she thought as she pulled out Shikoba’s staff. Raising her right hand, she passed it over the rod, murmuring an enchantment. The staff expanded, the metal tip glowing with promise.

  Marsai took it in two hands and aimed it at the barrel directly across from her. Lightning shot out the point, zipping across the space to strike the rock above the barrel. Chips of rock exploded from the impact point. She dragged the staff lower until the lightning slipped into the crack. With a sonorous boom, the oil ignited and the rocky basin split in two, spilling more oil, which ignited in a fiery flow of burning pitch. It fell onto support beams, coating them in flame.

  Marsai took aim at the second barrel and then the third, both of which exploded with glorious abandon. She smiled with satisfaction. To hit the fourth, she needed move over to the next barrel along a second ledge. She shrank the staff and pocketed it, then began the careful slide along the ledge to the adjoining barrel.

  Marsai had traversed half of the length when the rock exploded beside her face. Shards of stone spiraled away in all directions, slicing into her cheek and arm as they shot past. Marsai gasped, swaying on the ledge. Blood ran down her arm, slicking her fingers. She was exposed and vulnerable. She inspected her back trail, her eyes raking the cliff. Two guards stood on the first platform heaving large rocks in her direction, trying to dislodge her from her slender perch. She forced herself to move faster, her hands frantically searching for solid holds. Another rock sailed past her, so close it brushed against the back of her legs.

  Marsai reached the second barrel’s platform and crouched beside it, shielding herself from the attacking guards. She withdrew Shikoba’s rod, and it lengthened again in her hand. She turned it on the two guards. Lightning enveloped their bodies, and they screamed as they tumbled into the pit below. As they fell, a third figure was revealed. Tall and broad-shouldered, she stared into the eyes of her son, Casper. Her eyes widened and she froze, unsure of his intentions. She could see his grimace from across the way.

  “Stay where you are,” yelled Casper. She could see the lick of blue lighting curling around his massive fists, crackling with energy. “You will serve the emperor as he has foreseen. You will not escape again…Mother. All will serve the emperor, or they will die.”

  Marsai turned the rod on the remaining three barrels across the pit, blasting them with the lighting coursing through the tip of the staff. The flame struck the barrels, and with a whoosh, they exploded. Burning stone, wood and oil spilled into the cavern below.

  Casper conjured a fireball of his own. Marsai whirled around to face her son, pointing Shikoba’s rod in his direction. “Casper, don’t do this. You are better than the emperor. I beg you, son.” Her voice carried over the crackling flames.

  The hesitation was all the opening Casper needed. He grimaced, his face dark with hatred. “You should have stayed dead, Mother. I thought I had killed you once before. This time you will stay dead. Now ends the Shamankas for all time, as my master commands.” He drew back his hand and threw a tumbling, flaming ball of death. The rod in Marsai’s hand swung to the right and sent a bolt of lightning into the barrel she had just left behind. The barrel erupted sending flaming ribbons in all directions, including hers. The flames spilled inside the barrel behind which she was crouched. Casper’s comet arrived at that same time, and the rock exploded in twin eruptions. With a whoosh, the flames enveloped Marsai and she vanished.

  Shikoba’s rod tumbled away into the yawning expanse below and vanished from sight. Casper watched it fall. Without a backward glance or an ounce of remorse, he left the platform.

  Chapter 30

  The Dance

  “I SAID STEP INTO THE TEMPLE.” The menace in Madrid’s voice could not be mistaken. Shikoba reached to grasp her weapon, but it was not there. She was naked without the staff, her best defense against magic. Her hand shook as she lowered it to her side. Slowly, she walked across the sand and onto the golden pathway.

  Sarcee? What should I do?

  Let’s see what the emperor wants. But be cautious, Shikoba. We do not know what game he is playing. I can feel the barrier. It is nearby. He has brought us where we needed to be.

  We must take it down. Can you scout around for it while I entertain the emperor?

  I will search out the source. Be extremely careful, Shikoba.

  ***

  “So, Shikoba. Are you ready to take your place of honour in my grand design for Gaia?” Madrid stood beside the platform watching her approach, his eagle-sharp eyes pinned on her moccasins.

  The golden walkway ended, and Shikoba stepped up onto the raised granite surface into the circle of stone. This close, she could see details that were not clear when she stood on the beach. Runes were carved into the floor in concentric rings, spiraling down to focus on the central platform. Once inside the temple, the world beyond it disappeared, as though a curtain had been drawn around the building.

  “This day has been foretold, you know. Since the day your mother put that crystal around your neck, you were destined to serve me. You will take your place in the plan by serving the needs of the many. You will heal the Naganese.” Emperor Madrid stepped up beside Shikoba and tapped her chains with the finger of his left hand. They shimmered and crumbled to dust at his touch. Surprise stiffened her spine, a gut reaction to Madrid’s powerful display of magic. She relaxed her stance and smoothed her face before turning to face Madrid.

  “Heal the Naganese?” Shikoba’s narrowed eyes betrayed nothing. “There is no one here to heal. They have been extinct for over five hundred years, maybe a thousand. They are all dust and the city empty.”

  Madrid laughed softly. “You are mistaken, my dear. They are very much alive. I was there, when the legend of old happened, when the siege occurred to rescue your great-great-great-grandmother. Yes, they were dying. They were defeated and desperate for salvation, for a way to vanquish their enemies. The tribes of Shadra, their sworn enemy, had a knife to their throats. So when I offered them a way to survive, a way to one day return and vanquish their enemies, they were only too glad to accept my offering.”

  “You are rambling. You are not five hundred years old. What delusion is this?” Shikoba growled, stepping away from Madrid.

  “Shikoba, Shikoba,” he tsked, “I feared you would require proof. You always were one for whom seeing was believing. You give me no choice. I must give you the proof you need, though it pains me to do so.”

  Madrid waved his hand and a shimmering glow rose from the surface of the grey slab. The shimmer grew in size and then faded away. Aisha’s body lay atop the flat surface, her chest rising and falling as though in a deep asleep. “Your mother is going to demonstrate the power of the naga.” M
adrid walked over to the pedestal, pulling a sharp knife from the belt at his waist. He climbed the steps and paused beside Aisha. Then with a swift stroke, he slid the sharpened blade across her throat. The cut was deep and bright red blood spurted as the wound gushed, pulsing with the weakening beats of her heart.

  Shikoba screamed and rushed at the emperor, tossing the mask to the floor so that she could free both hands to attack. As she reached the top step, she collided with an invisible shield. She struck it so hard that she fell back down the steps.

  Madrid turned to her. “Watch,” Madrid commanded. He whistled low, then increased the volume. The lake trembled and shook, its surface rocking as though a heavy wind tossed the seas. The surface exploded and the naga shot out of the water. Long and slender, the naga resembled a dragon without wings. It was covered in scales similar to Obsidian’s. It landed with a thud, its massive head pulling its body out onto the shore. Shikoba watched in horror as coil after coil tumbled in the sand then straightened out, sliding down the golden path to the temple. It ignored Shikoba. The naga was focused on the woman bleeding out on the altar.

  “You see, Shikoba, the people of the naga had no more chance to save themselves, as does your mother. But the naga can save them.” The naga slithered up into the temple and encircled the platform, ringing it several times before its massive head raised up beside Shikoba’s mother.

  The naga opened its mouth. Razor-sharp teeth gleamed in a jaw that was large enough to swallow Aisha, stone and all. The great head rose up. Shikoba screamed as it flashed down on Aisha’s body. She flinched, expecting to see the torn body of her mother as it was devoured by the naga, but instead, the naga breathed on the body then licked the wound on Aisha’s neck. It reared back and breathed again along the length of her body. Aisha’s knees drew up and she bent forward, curling into a ball. The naga breathed once again, and an opaque barrier swirled and hardened over Aisha. The crust clarified into crystal. The naga’s breath raked over the surface one last time. When it raised its head, a glow pulsed at the core of Aisha’s body. The serpent sank back from the platform and slithered back to the dark waters, sliding into their still depths.