by Susan Faw
HEART
OF
DESTINY
SUSAN FAW
United States, 2017
Copyright © 2017 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 978-0-9959940-3-4
EPUB ISBN 978-0-9953438-9-4
:
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Map
Prologue: The First Battle
Chapter 1 Grandpa’s Tale
Chapter 2 The First Day: Bastion Province
Chapter 3 The Second Day: The Citadel
Chapter 4 The Third Day: Cassimir Province
Chapter 5 The Fourth Day: Hindra Province
Chapter 6 Grandpa’s Tale Continues
Chapter 7 The Eighth Day: Tyr Province
Chapter 8 The Twelfth Day: Citadel
Chapter 9 Grandpa’s Secret Escape
Chapter 10 The Isles of Jintessa
Chapter 11 The Barracks
Chapter 12 Dragon Games
Chapter 13 Lesson Plans
Chapter 14 Triad
Chapter 15 Gaitain’s Betrayal
Chapter 16 Choosing a Mate
Chapter 17 Commander Cayos
Chapter 18 The Training Arena
Chapter 19 The Depths
Chapter 20 Ancient History
Chapter 21 The Quest Begins
Chapter 22 New Leadership
Note from the Author
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Dedication
I’d like to dedicate this book to my good friend Jan Riley, who has been a constant source of review and suggestion as well as also encouragement along the way. Always willing to drop what she is doing to critique, she keeps me on point and true to the journey.
Without you, Jan, writing would be that much lonelier. Fair warning, someday I am going to create a character that is all you, but I will leave you to guess which one it is. :)
Prologue:
The First Battle
MARION BALANCED ON THE TIPPING POINT of the limestone ledge, her fingernails digging into the spalling stone, glaring at the raging storm. Bleak, cold, and grey, the clouds shrouded the true tempest stirring, the source of which chased a chill down her spine to lodge in her heart. The painful thumping within her chest distracted her.
Calm, I must find my focus. Marion closed her eyes. I am one with the storm. Its fury and mine are united, inseparable. There is no division for I am the storm, and all who oppose me will die.
Lightning flashed, highlighting the underside of the angry clouds before being swallowed whole. Hail fell, at first pea-sized, but it grew larger with every heartbeat, pinging off the bronze-capped turret. Marion focused on the hail once again, as it increased in quantity and size, a mirrored reflection of her clenched fists. The storm could not support its weight and the stones fell away into the night, a deadly missile attack that would break bone and flesh of any caught out in the open air or on the battlefield below. Perhaps the wizards could shield the soldiers in time. She hoped not.
The violence of the storm matched her mood. She was hungry for destruction, for revenge against those who sought to destroy her home, her way of life. She would not be denied.
A bolt of lightning flashed by on its way to ground, so close that her hair stood on end despite being tucked beneath the deep cowl of her dark green cloak. The brilliant light of the redirected spike of energy washed over the curving relief of a gargoyle, all fangs and muzzle, its great head curving into the spine of a neck decorated with sharp spikes. It was perched beside her on the edge of the rooftop. The gargoyle lifted a leg and stretched it out as though to catch the bolt before it disappeared.
“Beryl, what were you going to do with it if you caught it?” Marion said with a snort of laughter.
The gargoyle’s head turned, stretching its lips into a grin that displayed a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Smoke drifted lazily from its nostrils. One glistening green eye peered at her.
“I would have sent it back at the traitors who deflected it toward us, then laughed as they tumbled from the sky,” Beryl rumbled. The gargoyle was not a gargoyle after all but an exceptionally angry, full-blooded female dragon.
A face leaned out around the dragon. It belonged to a black-haired youth with shining green eyes to match Beryl’s. Chryso sat on the castle wall next to the dragon. His face was just visible in the gap under Beryl’s chin.
“Are we going to sit on this wall all day?” he asked his voice sharp with impatience. “What are we waiting for?” He glared out at the storm. “I want to finish that traitor, once and for all.”
Marion stared out at the roiling clouds and did not answer. Her eyes drifted closed once again, and she reached out with her mind, searching the storm…searching…searching. There. It was the tiniest of sparks, but it was there. She latched onto it with her mind and opened her eyes.
“It is time to merge.” Marion stood up on the wall then climbed into the leather-padded saddle strapped to Beryl’s back. Chryso stood and touched Marion’s hand. At the contact, his body became transparent and he merged into Marion’s body. Joined, they were stronger, faster, smarter than when they were separate. Together, they could draw on their combined knowledge and history and react in ways they could not do separately. Marion began to sort Chryso’s sensations from her own and organize the sensory information before her.
With a sizzling smack, a bolt of lightning struck the precise spot where Marion had just been sitting. Stone blasted into the air and the upper crenaline bowed outward then tumbled away into the yawning distance below. The heat of the lightning strike singed Beryl’s wings. With a roar of pain and anger she dived, spiralling away from the wall. She levelled out then rose, flying into the midst of the storm where the battle raged hottest, guided by their triad-merged minds.
She rose up through the clouds, winging her way toward the distant target at the heart of the storm to confront their worst enemy. This was an ancient enemy and a recent foe, the betrayer of hope.
He knows I am coming, thought Marion. She could feel Chryso’s agreement. He will expect a direct attack and will have energized the clouds to defend against it. We must use that against him. Charge the cloud as the lightning is released. Are you ready? Affirmative sensations vibrated along the bond.
Beryl snarled and tensed under Marion’s saddle. Beryl’s scales shifted as she drew them tight around her body, clicking into place like armour. Marion pulled her iron-tipped staff from her saddle bag and elongated its rune-enhanced body until it was a full ten feet in length. Muttering a spell under her breath and waving her hand over its length, the staff flared bright red for a second and then a thin rope trailed away from its base, streaming out behind them before being swallowed by the dense cloud.
Lightning flashed, skipping from cloud to cloud, searching for their presence. Beryl twist
ed and dodged the bursts, hiding their location from the searcher. The problem was that their quarry was also on the move, diving from cloud to cloud and hiding amongst the clouds in much the same way as they were. Having conjured the storm, they controlled its form and shape and power.
A cloud to the right flashed and for the briefest of moments, a silhouette was illuminated. A great dragon, double the size of Beryl was highlighted in relief, wings spread and claws extended, before it vanished.
“Damn!” yelled Marion. Chryso swore an oath of equal vehemence as Beryl twisted and dived. Flame gushed and filled the void where they had been seconds before. Beryl flipped over to fly upside down, extending her feet. With a satisfying thud, her razor-sharp talons found the soft folds of skin under the wing of the diving dragon. It screamed and was gone, swallowed by the raging storm. Marion twisted in her saddle, keeping the rod raised and pointed toward the focal point of the storm where she knew their enemy hid.
A blinding flash and a sonorous boom struck simultaneously. The sizzling bolt of energy stabbed the rod and the lightning emptied down the staff, following the trailing wire to where it touched the castle below. The reflected light blinded them, and Marion threw up her other arm to shield her eyes. When the lightning vanished, she lowered her arm to see a steel armoured dragon with milky white eyes bearing down on their position. Beryl spied the Opaleye at the same time and screamed in challenge. A man stood on the back of the dragon, a fully charged blivet grasped in his hand. Energy rippled around the weapon, discharging a trail of sparks into the air around it with every motion.
Marion looked away from the sparkling mythical weapon, knowing that to look on it was to deceive one’s eye. Created in the fires of a sacred volcano, the blivet was a weapon of another dimension, out of phase with the reality of the world of Gaia. She focused on the holder, the enemy they sought. Broad of shoulder and black haired, the man’s pearly white teeth flashed as he drew back his arm.
“Abort! He has a blivet. Abort!” she screamed, as Beryl jumped to obey.
The blivet soared out of the man’s hand and, with impossible speed, closed the distance to strike Beryl on the right flank. Beryl roared as her body froze, limbs and wings stiffening to stone.
“Shift!” Chryso yelled, pulling on their combined magic to begin the process, but the magic of the weapon interrupted the shift in mid-process. With a bang and a screech, the triad bond collapsed and they separated, free falling with sickening speed toward the ground.
Tumbling head over heels, Marion quivered, struggling to shake off the stunning effect of the blivet. She had only received a tiny amount of the numbing energy, but it was enough to leave her with no feeling in her fingers. She ignored her useless appendages and shrank her staff with her mind, then focused her mental energies on the earth rising to meet them. The staff flashed and the milling clouds rushed to the surface and then rose to meet them, a fluffy pillow of white. As they dropped out of the storm into the brilliant sunshine, Marion took a quick look over her shoulder. Chryso and Beryl dropped out of the clouds just behind her, and she shooed some of the cloud tops over to form beneath them.
With a puff, she sank into the soft net of clouds, bouncing on the surface.
The Opaleye soared out of the clouds and winged its way toward the castle walls on which they had been recently perched. Its rider lifted a hand and waved a lazy goodbye, and dragon and rider disappeared behind the peaks of the mountains that surrounded the central Citadel to the west. Marion’s eyes twitched with fury as she watched the dragon vanish, frustrated with her helplessness and inability to give chase. They had failed. She had failed. There was no longer a choice. Into exile she would go. She was powerless to stop the emperor at this time. She waved her staff, and the clouds softened, lowering them to the earth. As they broke through, the stench of battle reached her nostrils. Fires burned in the lower village of Ionia, the smoke a thick haze drifting over the building tops and snaking between the mountains, hugging the valley floor. Castle Ionia rose out of the smoke, hardly unscathed. Chunks of stone were missing from its towers and fires burned in the windows, winking out as they were extinguished from within the castle. The bridge was full of Citadel soldiers entering the ancient school. It was obvious that the school was lost, and her sisters were either in hiding or had already fled. The servants and those of no magical power would not be harmed. The battle was being waged against magic, not against humanity.
Marion sank the rest of the way through the clouds and set herself, Beryl and Chryso down in a wooded area several miles away from the battlefront. The paralyzing numbness of the emperor’s attack was beginning to dissipate as she worked her fingers to and fro, wriggling them to encourage the blood flow to her fingertips.
Beryl limped over to her side, favouring her flank where an angry burn shimmered in the dim light of the concealing canopy. Chryso ran over to Beryl and placed his hand beside the wound, chanting and moving his hand over it without making contact. Beryl whimpered, nosing his shoulder to push him out of the way. Chryso held up his left hand, halting her without breaking his chant. The puckered, torn skin began to mend, as sweat broke out on Chryso’s forehead. He leaned forward, placing both hands on either side of the wound. His profile shimmered, phasing with the puncture, as he called forth healing from his homeland. The skin puckered and drew together, smoothing, but the wound resisted his efforts. Gasping, Chryso pulled away from the meditation and staggered back.
“I cannot heal it completely. The wound is out of sync with this world.”
Beryl draped a wing over him to thank him for his efforts. She watched Marion approach with one bloodshot green eye.
“It is much better,” she said with a blink. “Thank you for your efforts.”
Marion passed her hands over the wound. “The healing is as complete as what is possible in this world. Well done, Chryso.”
Marion’s hands dropped, and she turned in the direction of Castle Ionia, the tips of the golden towers gleaming in the reflected late-day sun.
“We have failed. The emperor has won this round. Go back home. You can do nothing more here.” At Chryso’s squawk of protest, she raised a hand, halting him. “I will go into seclusion. From there, I can work with my sisters to develop a plan. If we are to be successful in our next attempt against the emperor, we must be ready. We must recruit and train witches that can combat the emperor’s powers. We are not trained in combat. It was never part of our calling. We are healers.” She frowned up at the sky, thinking. “But that must change. There is much to prepare,” she said, turning back to her agitated companions. “This is how it must be. Return to Jintessa. Tell the Djinn what has transpired here in Gaia. There will be more students. The school must close.”
“But, Marion, what of us? I cannot live in your world without the triad merger. No Djinn can. We are not human. We are shapeshifters. And the dragons will not come to you without being bonded to a Djinn Dragonmerger. You will be alone once again.”
“It is too dangerous here now, Chryso. If you both stay, you will die. The emperor knows you are here. He will not cease hunting you, and you know he would kill you and enslave Beryl. You must go!”
Chryso frowned at her, shook his head, and then reluctantly nodded agreement. He climbed onto Beryl’s back and, when settled, glared down at Marion. “Remember, Marion. If you die, we die. We are bonded. If you must transfer the bond, be sure that the bond holder is worthy of the transfer. We are trusting you with knowledge that is very sacred. My kin will not understand this. Bring the sisters you trust to bond with us. Show us that the trust goes both ways. Only with this trust in place will we prevail in the future. Come to me in Jintessa.”
Marion studied her Djinn bond mate and nodded. “It will be as you ask, Chryso, you have my word and my bond. But it will not be now. In the future, we will come to the Djinn. Time moves differently here than in Jintessa. I will be old when we meet next.”
With a final nod, Chryso handed Marion her satchel, then sh
ifted into the form of an eagle and flew up onto Beryl’s back. As soon as Chryso was settled, Beryl launched into the sky and was quickly swallowed by the dissipating storm. Marion watched them go until they vanished from sight.
“Good luck, my friends, and safe travels,” she whispered as she shouldered her pack. Picking a path at random, she marched into the woods.
The world would not hear from them again for two hundred years.
Chapter 1
Grandpa’s Tale
EMILY PRESSED HER GRIMY FACE up against the bars of the window, peering out at the cobblestones of the street visible beyond its stripes. A driving rain pounded the road, dancing on the stones. Lightning arched across the sky, silhouetting the people running to and fro, screaming at the top of their lungs.
“Grandpa, what’s going on? Why is everyone screaming?”
Her grandfather clasped her around the waist with one arm and with the other hand tugged the blackout curtain tight across the bars. “You need to stay away from the windows, Emily. It’s too dangerous. Come, I will tell you a story.”
A piercing wail filled the room. It rose in crescendo, so sharp that seven-year-old Emily clapped her hands over her ears, and then it ceased abruptly. The echo faded to the ear but not to Emily’s heart.
“Mama!” she wailed and buried her face in her grandfather’s linen shirt. It scratched her cheek, but she didn’t care. It smelled of safety and love. The curtain over the iron bars was no barrier to the screeching villagers, running in terror from the evil descending on the town of two thousand.
