Heart of Shadra

by Susan Faw

  He had wanted to search for Marsai, to confirm for his own peace of mind that she was really gone. His heart didn’t want to believe it, but his head knew the truth. Nothing could have pried Shikoba’s staff from her grip other than death. The shrunken staff bounced at his hip, where he had tied it, mocking him with its innocence. He had seen the damage it could wrought and knew that it was an object of magic. He shivered, feeling its menace even as he fled from the battle raging behind him.

  They had to keep going, keep pushing.

  He headed for the only place he knew where they could hide in safety. The rough path sloped down. With a sudden shiver, they passed through the protective enchantment left in place for their return. The air shimmered around them, swallowing rider and horse as they faded from view. They were headed for the swamp. Marsai’s swamp. They plunged through the mucky muck at the bottom of the hill, then Chutzpa turned Fire Dancer in the direction of the house. Fire Dancer needed no urging. He could smell the lush grass of the lawn of the small castle and was eager to return.

  They rode up to the building. It was no less impressive than the first time he had been there. But this time, it stared back at him, multiple walls with empty windows. The place had lost its soul in more ways than one. Chutzpa pulled reins and brought Fire Dancer to a halt. He eagerly dropped his head to crop the lush grass, as soon as the reins slackened. Chutzpa held out his arm, and Tesha swung off his back, using the crook of his elbow to dismount. Deshi met her on the ground, and Tesha ran to him and flung her arms around Deshi. They hugged for a moment and then both turned back to Chutzpa.

  “What are we going to do?” Deshi watched the older man over the top of Tesha’s head. “You are planning something. I can feel it.” He let go of Tesha and loosened the belt that held the box, handing it over to Chutzpa.

  Chutzpa stared at the box. His mind was reeling with all that had happened.

  “I do not know,” he said softly. His gaze lifted in the direction of the mines. “But I think our friends need us. We might have lost Marsai today, but I can’t believe,” his voice caught, “I will not believe that Shikoba is gone. I am going to go back for her, but not right now. I will need help, help I cannot get here.” His head turned toward the Citadel. “But we know who the enemy is.”

  “We will help you. We are with you, Chutzpa. You are all right, for a Tunisian.” Tesha gave him a hug, which he accepted, gratefully. Chutzpa sighed, then grabbed their arms, steering them toward the castle. “Come. Marsai would be pleased that we have taken shelter here. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow is soon enough to plan.”

  As they crossed the moat, a dark shape crossed in front of the sun high up in the sky. The massive dragon blocked the sun for a moment, casting the swamp beneath its shivering shadow and then was gone.

  ***** THE END *****

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  Also by Susan Faw

  The Spirit Shield Saga:

  Soul Survivor

  Seer of Souls

  Soul Sanctuary

  Soul Sacrifice

  You can download the series starter Soul Survivor for free!

  Simply visit http://susanfaw.com/

  The Heart of the Citadel:

  Heart of Destiny

  Heart of Tyr

  Heart of Shadra

  Heart of Bastion

  Also by Susan Faw

  (E.A. Darl - Pen name)

  The Silent Lands Chronicles:

  Stealing Silence

  Seeking Silence

  Stinging Silence

  Shadowed Silence

  And now…A sneak peek:

  Heart Of Bastion

  Fifteen Years Earlier - Jintessa Time

  THE CITADEL OF MELINA was blessed with the most important structure in all of Bastion. High above the milling crowds, the grey stone walls reflected the last rays of the setting sun, burnished to a golden glitter before fading to black.

  Today was the holiest day in their celestial calendar. A steady crowd of people had joined the annual pilgrimage, flowing to the Citadel to deliver the most precious gift they could give. Those without a gift came to honour those who had a gift to give, for it was an extremely rare thing to be gifted with children in Melina.

  The Citadel was the sole place in all of Melina where a school could be found. All roads eventually emptied onto this cliff-hugging sea to Sky Avenue. The single path twisted and curved to the peak of the extinct volcano, the highest spot in all of Melina. So precious was the cargo delivered to the summit on this day that the roads were guarded two and three deep by the fiercest weapons in all of Bastion, the Citadel-trained sons of Bastion. Those without children tossed flower leis made of calla lilies, plumeria, and fuchsia in eye-watering colours harvested from the nearby jungle, at the feet of the horses. The crush of the flowers filled the air with their heady perfume. But it wasn’t until night fell that the real celebrations began.

  Eight-year-old Kara stared out the darkened window of her carriage, her eyes wide with fear and clutching a blue-eyed straw-stuffed doll to her chest. She resisted the urge to stick her thumb in her mouth but just barely. Her brother, Jasper, reclined against the overstuffed cushions at her side, ignoring the audience that flashed by the naked opening and accepting it as his due. Jasper had traveled this route for two seasons, being two years older than his sister, and was familiar with the parade.

  The wheels clattered over the cobblestone paving as the horse team pulled the carriage in the only direction they could go, plodding along behind the gilded carriage in front of them. Their parents guided the team of horses, sitting side by side on the driver’s seat and conversing in low tones. Overhead, fireworks burst across the sky celebrating the day to come, for the first day of school was a national holiday in Bastion and the festivities were not to be missed. Street performers juggled fireballs. Couples holding hands stared hungrily at the occupants of the carriages, longing for the day when it would be their turn to have children. A fierce-looking guard frowned at a banner that had been hung across an alleyway that said “Rescind the two children ban! Procreation rights for all!”

  Jasper yawned and then straightened with excitement, pointing out his window at the object that had caught his eye. “Look, Kara! There on the roof. Archers!” He leaned forward to keep the archer in view as the wagon curved around a bakery selling sweet buns, a swirling scent of cinnamon drowning the floral bouquet for a moment.

  This time, Kara did stick her thumb in her mouth and quickly changed it to nibbling on the rough edge of her fingernail as her eyes widened farther. Her eyes darted to the side to see if Jasper had noticed but he continued to stare at the roof tops, craning his neck out the window to keep the archers in sight. Kara shrank back against the cushions and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the archers or the merrymakers. She wavered between hugging her doll closer and shutting out the noise. She settled for clapping her doll over her left ear, muffling the singing and the shouted well wishes of a thousand strangers. Kara just wanted to go home to their square little house with the standard three bedrooms and their square table with four chairs. It was exactly like every other house on their quiet street, but she had felt safe there, secure, loved. She did not want to go to school. Her lower lip trembled.

  “Aww, stop being a baby!” Jasper leaned over and pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop. She didn’t remember putting it in. “Don’t embarrass me when we get to the school! I will lie and tell everyone you are not my sister if you do.”

  Kara said nothing.

  The carriage rumbled around a couple more curves, and the buildings lining the streets vanished along with the crowd of well-wishers. Now, only the fireworks followed them, as the road was swallowed by obsidian walls of shining glass that refl
ected burning torches set in brackets on either side of the wagon, to light the way. The walls rose up two stories. The only reason Kara knew the fireworks were still being sent skyward was the occasional wash of colour that lit up the carriages ahead of them.

  Several minutes of travel later, the carriages emptied out of the rift and onto the plateau of the summit, halting in front of a pair of massive wrought-iron gates. The gates were affixed to shining black pillars and each pillar was topped by a carved glass dragon with wings spread and the snout dipping toward the wagons so that the eyes caught the flickering torch light. Kara shivered, for the glass crooner appeared to be alive, staring right at her. She stared back at the crooners as the gates opened, and the carriage lurched into motion once again. The emerald eyes followed her, and she swore that the head swiveled as well as she was swept up to the building ablaze with light at the far end of the lane. She tore her eyes away from the glass dragon. Trees lined the approach, clinging to the coarse sand, the fronds silhouetted by the crescent moon rising in the sky.

  Kara’s gaze was drawn to the building where the halted carriages were disgorging their precious cargo.

  “It’s so big,” she whispered.

  Jasper dismissed the building with a wave of his hand. “Yeah but it’s not that big. You will get lost at first but not for long because the teachers keep a really close eye on the first years. If I were you, I’d be worried about the dragons.” Jasper waggled his brows as he leaned forward, trying to gauge her reaction. The carriage hit a rock, and a clear heart pendant swung out from the front of his shirt, flashing in the light spilling in the carriage door from the school. He tucked it back inside his shirt by habit.

  “Dragons! Dragons aren’t real! Stop lying, Jasper. You are trying to scare me.” Kara sat on her hand with the thumb.

  Jasper laughed at her. “Yeah, and it worked, too!”

  The carriage lurched to a halt. Jasper flung open the door and launched himself out of the carriage, tossing a hasty “Bye, Mom and Dad!” over his shoulder. He raced for the open doors where he had spied a school friend and was soon swallowed by the students filing into the school.

  Kara stared at the open door but did not move.

  The door on her side slid aside, and her father’s head appeared.

  “We are here, Shikara.” He held out his arms to her. Kara scrambled into them without a thought, hugging him around the neck as he carried her and her school bag. She clung to him, refusing to let go.

  Her father gently rubbed Kara’s back as she stared over his shoulder at the gated entrance to the compound. The dragon was still there, staring at her. And then it winked at her. Kara stuck her thumb in her mouth. Her mother glanced over her shoulder at the statue and smiled, then catching the object of her daughter’s gaze, winked at Kara.

  ***

  It was toward midnight that Kara heard it.

  She had been asleep in her bed in the room assigned to her for a couple of hours at most. Her father had delivered her to the headmistress and then said a tearful goodbye before he was hustled out of the room. Kara had clung to his pant leg, desperate to hang on to him. Her mother gently pulled her away from her father and then knelt down in front of her and slipped a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant around Kara’s neck, tucking it under her shirt.

  She bent low and whispered in her ear, “Remember what I told you, Shikara. You are chosen for a reason. It is your destiny. I will see you soon,” and then kissed her on the head just before the headmistress had pulled her away. Kara had collapsed on the floor, hugging her doll tight to her chest and rocking herself for comfort.

  Parents were never allowed to stay, for the school was firmly of the opinion that the quicker and sharper the break, the easier the transition. First-year students were housed four to a pod, each with a member of staff assigned to ease the transition. The term pod was assigned as a joking reference to the monstrous young of serpents at sea. The first-year students were usually around eight years of age, their ages carefully documented by a census once a year. The government kept track of the births as part of the lottery system, and their attendance at the school of Melina required. The census was conducted regardless of the reported age of a child to prevent cheating of the system. School attendance was mandatory and failure to send your child to school was punishable by imprisonment.

  After a quick meal was served, the elderly matron assigned to Kara’s pod ensured that teeth were brushed before they were shown to their assigned beds. The lights were out before the last of the fireworks cleared the sky.

  But Kara couldn’t sleep and instead had stared at the moon visible through the oval glass window in her room. She watched its passage from her bed until it passed beyond the edge of the frame, homesick and longing to run away from the school to go back home with her parents. She’d heard snuffling from one of the other beds and knew she was not alone in missing her family. Jasper didn’t count. She wouldn’t see him as he was in the boy’s school. Eventually, she had drifted off to sleep.

  Kara sat up, the covers sliding into her lap, listening hard.

  Someone was crying, but the cry was low and soft, more of a whimper. It sounded so sad that Kara’s lower lip trembled in response to the tug on her emotions. She struggled to fight the urge to cry along with the boy or girl who was so lonely, so lost. Maybe she could comfort him or her. She slid out of bed and put her slippers on. The stone floor was very cold. The moonlight provided some small illumination as she crept to the door of the bedroom containing her four roommates. After assuring herself that they were asleep, she opened the door a crack. A lone lamp, trimmed low, glowed on a peg fastened to the wall in the hall. Kara opened the door, crawled up onto the chair resting against the wall and lifted the lamp off the peg. With a quick glance around, she scrambled back down and followed the sound of the crying.

  It was coming from outside. Kara squeezed the latch on a door that went out onto the schoolyard and eased her way through, her eyes searching the quiet grounds. The sound was over by the wall. She hurried over, her eyes checking everywhere for the child who was crying, or worse yet, a school guardian. Yet she saw no one. She crossed what must have been a play yard, for squares were drawn on the surface in chalk. She bent her head to study the pattern then started humming her favourite hopping game, the one she used to play with her neighbour, the girl who used to live next door.

  One Stick. Two Stick. Three Stick. Four.

  Stab ’em in the heart, and there won’t be more.

  Five Stick. Six Stick. Seven Stick. Eight.

  Rap them on the head, and use them for bait.

  Nine Stick. Ten Stick. Eleven Stick. Twelve.

  Encircle your demons with spells to delve.

  She started skipping across the playground, working her feet to the rhyming game, forgetting the crying child for a moment as she worked through the footwork. On the last step, she looked up and directly into a pair of glowing amber eyes.

  A crooner with great wings spread wide stared at her and cried. The sound was so sad, so mournful, that Kara’s eyes welled up anew with the pain of its song. Long fangs curved from the jaw of the dragon and from the snout curled smoke, but to Kara’s eyes, the dragon was smiling. Kara smiled back. She didn’t know what to do. She looked around but the playground was empty.

  “Why are you crying, dragon?” she whispered. The dragon tilted its head, considering her words and that was when Kara saw the child on its back. “Oh! Are you the one crying?” She stepped closer to the dragon and the child on its back.

  “Yes. I need your help. Will you help me, Kara?” The child held out his hand.

  “OK. But how do you know my name?”

  “We have known your name since the day you were born. You are a very special little girl. Do you not wear the crystal heart?”

  Kara nodded. Her hand tightened around the pendant that her mother had given her. Her parting words echoed in her ears.

  “Didn’t your parents say that one day you would
be singled out by that present and called to a special future that only a few can perform?”

  Kara nodded again. “Mama said not to be afraid. She said when magic presented itself I would know it in my heart and I should go willingly to my calling. The magic within me would call to my teacher when the time was right. Are you my teacher?”

  “I am but one of many.”

  “I like your dragon.”

  “This is your dragon.”

  Kara’s eyes widened, lighting up as a grin curved her lips.

  “Who are you?” she asked, curious.

  “I am Chryso. I am a Dragonmerger. I am also a Djinn, a race of shapeshifters. I can take the form of anything living: plant, animal, bird, even a bug. I am not the same as you. My race is eternal.”

  “Where are you from? Do the dragons live there?” Kara, wide eyed and excited, edged around to look closer at the dragon.

  “We are from the islands of Jintessa. And yes, the dragons live there. It is time, Kara. You are a chosen one, Kara. One gifted with magic and that places you a step above all other humans. This is the destiny for which you were born. It is time your true lessons began. Give me your hand.” Chryso bent down over the side of the dragon and extended his hand to her.

  Kara placed her hand in his, and he pulled her up in front of him, settling her into the front of the saddle.

  “This leather strap will keep you from falling if Beryl needs to dive.” He buckled the strap over her legs then lifted a harness on his chest and extended it to encircle them both. “This way you are secure if you fall asleep. Hold on now, we are leaving.”