A THICK COLUMN OF SMOKE rose from the moonlit vortex, as though the world below had been rolled into a single prayer pipe and set ablaze by the fervour of the people. Black lightning flashed in the roiling clouds, glossy as volcanic glass against the expanding midnight vapour. The column narrowed to where it exited a small chimney-sized opening in the invisible barrier, a barrier that was unnatural. The prayers of the people were meant to soar to the heavens, free to be received by the Great Spirit without interference, without encumbrance.
Fingering the tall staff that rode at her hip, Shikoba of Shadra studied the prayer cloud. Passing through the magical barrier had changed it and altered its composition. The prayers of her people were a peaceful gift, not this angry tempest of spirit.
She leaned in close to her dragon’s head and yelled into Obsidian’s ear, “Don’t fly through the prayers. Don’t disturb them in any manner. If the spirits are in communion with people, disturbing their pleas could be deadly for us.” One shining black eye blinked to acknowledge her instructions, and Obsidian dipped her claw-tipped wing to put them in a gentle arc that circled the cloud but lowered them incrementally with each full turn while keeping a safe distance from the tempest.
There was one other companion on this flight, Shikoba’s Dragonmerger companion, Sarcee, who also happened to be a Djinn from the Isle of Jintessa. The Djinn sat on her shoulder, clinging to the white robes covering her tanned arm with the tenacity of the praying mantis whose form he had chosen for the journey across the time-altering sea. It was their magic, Djinn and dragon combined, that made it possible for Shikoba to complete the triad. Dragon, Djinn, and human were united in purpose, sharing mind, strength, and ultimately the goal of toppling the barrier that separated Shadra from its neighbours.
“How do you intend to breach the opening?” Sarcee yelled. Gifted with telepathic thought, a side effect of the triad bond they shared, he switched to the internal communication they preferred. If we fly into that vortex, we will surely die. And the barrier is equally as deadly. The emperor knows we are coming and has set up defenses beyond the regional barriers to keep us away.
We use the prayers of my people, thought Shikoba. I am one of them. I can pray to the celestial spirits, too. They will hear my prayer and give aid. Prayer is the strongest magic there is.
Then give it a try, said Sarcee. Pray that the good spirits will help us.
Shikoba closed her oval eyes and sent an entreaty to the spirits. There were many spirits, but the Great Spirit was chief. The lesser spirits could hear though, so she was careful to not offend them. She did not have a prayer pipe, so she imagined the sacred vessel in her hand and held it out before her. She prayed to the elements of the four winds, calling them by name and raising her pipe to each birthplace: north, south, east, and west, calling for their blessings and their gifts. From Obsidian’s swaying back, Shikoba mimed grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground and tossing it to the air, uttering a sacred vow to protect Mother Earth and beseeching her protection in exchange.
Shikoba’s hands rose into the air and she pointed the imaginary pipe at the sky. A faint outline shimmered into being between her hands. Barely visible, the spirit form was two feet long and decorated with feathers and stones that dangled from its slim length. Sarcee cocked his triangular-shaped head, stretching to see the ghostly object. Shikoba did not seem to notice the phantom pipe in her hands.
Trance-like, she prayed to the Great Spirit, murmuring the words “Thank you, Great Spirit, for the gift of the elements from which all magic is formed. Shelter and protect us now, as we aid your people.” She prayed for guidance and wisdom and knowledge, mimicking the actions of the elders at every prayer gathering since she had been born.
Shikoba opened her eyes. The roiling cloud had risen higher into the air and broadened as the prayers sought their destination. Some of the prayers were lost, wandering about the sky as though their guidance had been damaged by the restricted passage through the chimney, altering their path. A couple of the more aggressive prayers veered off from the main group and shot toward Obsidian. Shikoba cried a warning to Obsidian, but she had already seen the speeding missive. She dived below the elongating finger of thought, her speed sweeping the prayer apart.
“Do not let it touch you!” screamed Shikoba. “If you contact a prayer not meant for you, it will kill you!”
Obsidian rolled to the left to avoid another trailing black finger, but this one changed directions as though it had locked onto Obsidian as its true recipient. Shikoba flung a look over her shoulder. The wisp curled around and grew fat, gathering other lost prayers into its trajectory, gaining speed and strength.
Sarcee groaned, hopping onto Shikoba’s other shoulder. “Do you see that? It’s following us!’
“Yes, I see it!” Shikoba’s focus returned to the churning chimney-like opening. “We must go through the barrier. There is no other way. If it is the will of the spirits, they will grant us access. They will make it possible to pass. Obsidian, do you see it? Head for the brightest light on that tower of rock. It will be the ceremonial fire. Go!” she yelled.
Obsidian needed no further urging. She pointed her nose at the impossibly small opening and dived.
They tumbled out of the sky, spiralling toward the opening. Wind whipped Shikoba’s robes, flattening them to her body, and her sleeves flapped with the pressure. Sarcee tucked himself into Shikoba’s hair and hung on. He could always shift into a bird or some other creature, but this was the safest way to travel until they were within the barrier. As they approached, the aperture cleared and the opening was revealed. Sharp crystals, like the teeth of a monstrous shark, protruded into the opening. But that was not the worst of it. The opening was closing.
“Obsidian! Hurry!” urged Shikoba. The dragon put on a burst of speed and shot like a javelin into the opening, just as the black-fingered thought touched her tail. Obsidian roared. Her wings spasmed, flopping limply at her side.
“Obsidian!” screamed Shikoba, as they fell through the opening. Obsidian’s right wing caught on one of the crystal teeth, tearing the toughened flesh and ripping through scales. There was a blinding flash and a clap of thunder. They slammed onto a hard surface, skidding along the flat stones. Obsidian slid unconscious across the tableau, leaving behind a sickening trail of purple blood. With a final thump and roll, she came to a rest and did not stir.
Shikoba was tossed from the saddle with the force of the impact, tumbling over and over before colliding with a rock wall. Sarcee leapt from Shikoba’s hair just before she hit the ground. Shikoba’s head struck the stone, hard, and all went black.
***
“Who is she? Is she dead?”
“Never mind about the girl. Look, a dragon! Is it still alive? I didn’t know that dragons could be hurt. Maybe we should cut its throat right now to make sure.”
“You really think you could cut that throat? Look at the scales! They shimmer like the barrier. No knife we have would be able to get through that hide!”
“Maybe we should go get an elder.” The girl’s voice trembled, betraying her nerves.
The boy snorted. “What, and tell them we have been playing with the prayer pipe? You know that this rock is sacred. It is forbidden to light the ceremonial fires. They will have our hides stretched in the sun if we tell them about any of this!”
“Then what should we do?” squeaked the girl.
Sarcee shifted into his human form, behind Shikoba, where he had landed when he’d jumped. In his human form, he appeared to be a boy of fifteen or sixteen. He was hoping it was about the same age as the children in front of him. He stood up.
“If I were you, I’d help them. They are hurt. And your fires may have just saved their lives. For this, we are grateful.” At his voice, the pair jumped, surprised by his presence. The boy snatched up his spear and thrust it out in front of them, its bladed tip pointed at Sarcee.
“Where did you come from? You were not there a minute ago.” The finger the raven-haired girl pointed at Sarcee shook slightly. “Who are you?”
“I am called Sarcee. And this,” he touched the shoulder of his unconscious bond mate, “is Shikoba. Shikoba of Shadra.”
The boy was of an age with Sarcee with tousled red hair curling in all directions. He lowered his spear in response to Sarcee’s words, and his brown eyes widened. “The Shikoba? Of Shadra?” His eyes flitted over to the woman on the ground. “She is a legend. She has been gone for a very long time. We know of her from the stories.”
Sarcee nodded. “She was hurt in the return, as was her dragon. This is Obsidian. She is not a threat to you, unless you intend harm to us. Do you?” Sarcee tilted his head in a birdlike movement. The two teens shifted uneasily, exchanging excited glances. Their gazes kept returning to the dragon. Obsidian trumped any forgotten hero in their book.
“What would you have us do?” they asked in unison, their words coming out in a rush.
“Keep our presence secret. We have a mission to perform here that is important and urgent. But they are hurt and need time to recover. The sacred tower here, it is secluded and private. Will you help my friends? They will reward you.”
The pair exchanged glances again and nodded agreement.
“We were worried the elders would see the smoke and come, but if they haven’t arrived by now, we may have escaped notice. We didn’t know the pyre would burn so hot! Everyone is asleep. It’s only an hour or so before dawn. The last patrol in this area was hours ago,” volunteered the girl. She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I am called Tesha. This is my brother, Deshi. We will help you as long as you don’t report us.” Tesha glanced over at Deshi. Their eyes met. “We were not supposed to light the pyre, but no one else would do it.” Tesha’s eyes fell on the pyre. “Only the queen is to light the pyre, but…” Her voice trailed off. She bit her lip.
“Agreed,” said Sarcee, considering the pair standing before him. “You need to return to your home. When you come back, do so only at sunset. We will treat all other approaches as hostile. Do you know any bird cries?”
“How about this?” Deshi whistled a bird call, and Sarcee nodded.
“Use that call when you approach the tower. We will know it is you. Now, can you gather some supplies for us? Food, some bandages? And a map if you can find one.”
Tesha nodded. “I can get them from the pantry in the long house.”
“Okay, you should go. I will tend to our friends here. I know what they need and can heal most of their wounds.”
“Then why do you need the bandages?”
“For those we might injure defending ourselves,” said Sarcee, grimly.
“Oh.” Tesha’s mouth fell open with surprise. Deshi nudged her, and she closed it with a snap to stem the questions trying to worm their way past her lips.
“Go!” commanded Sarcee in a stern voice. They ran over to the staircase that led to the summit on which they all stood.
“One last thing,” called Sarcee. “Magic is forbidden, or at least it was when we left. I can’t imagine that has changed. Breathe a word of any of this, and all of our lives may be forfeit. Shikoba has powerful enemies, even among her own people. You would be wise to guard your tongue. Speak to no one about us. Not a living soul. Understand?”
Tesha and Deshi both nodded, then hurried down the staircase. Sarcee watched them exit the base then head across the sand. His eyes followed them until the gloom swallowed their shapes. They were alone at last.