SHIKOBA, SARCEE, AND OBSIDIAN reached the location of the Shamankas’s hut as dawn broke the sky, but there was no hut to be found. All that remained of the home and barn that Shikoba remembered visiting as a child was a deep, black pit. Long scorch marks plowed the ground undimmed by the passage of time. As they wandered through the remains of the hovel, other battle markings became apparent. The broken bones of a chicken coop littered the ground, somehow having escaped the inferno that had reduced the house to ash. Shikoba ran to the edge of the pit where the house had sat facing the barn, where the heat had been the most intense. Shikoba fell to her knees to peer down into the open crater.
“Oh no, this cannot be!” Shikoba wailed. “Marsai cannot be dead!”
“The Shamankas would not be caught this way,” said Sarcee, his voice firm and assured. “She is too crafty and smart for that. Do you really think an enemy could catch her flat-footed like this?”
Obsidian raked her claws through a pile of blackened debris to disturb the char and then took a deep sniff. This damage was done by one of my kin. It is a dragon attack. It is also old. Maybe fifteen or more years ago. It is revenge for being outsmarted.
Shikoba sat back from the edge of the crater, surprise flashing across her face. She drew her focus back to the dragon. “Fifteen years ago? That long? Are you sure? How can you tell?”
Obsidian licked the ashes by her feet. It has a stale taste. There is no more fire in the ash. Dragon fire lasts for a very long time. It doesn’t burn out even when it looks to have died. It can live on below the surface waiting to rekindle. Your world is too fragile to withstand dragon fire. It burns too easily. It is not sturdy like Jintessa. Dragon fire in Gaia would turn your world into a living hell. All life would perish.
Shikoba got to her feet, and shivered. “Who would risk dragon fire here? Fifteen years ago would make it just after I left Gaia by Gaia time reckoning.” She paused, mulling over the timing. She felt the weight of accusing eyes, glaring at her out of a distant past. She shook off the feeling. “Who would want the Shamankas dead that badly?” A third thought followed on the heels of the second. “Are you saying there are dragons on Gaia now?”
Sarcee crumbled a handful of ash between his fingers, watching it fall back to the ground. “I think Obsidian is right. This devastation was caused by dragon fire. We long suspected that the dragon eggs were stolen by a Djinn. What if that Djinn is hiding here on Gaia? I think we have our evidence before us. The dragons have hatched.” Sarcee dragged his toe through a scorch mark. All life had been burnt from the soil.
Obsidian growled deep in her throat, a rumbling snore that shook the branches of the bare trees nearby. Smoke curled from her glowing snout, lit from inside by the flame she held in check. She had lost an egg to the thief and the mention of her lost offspring made her long for battle.
Shikoba walked over to Obsidian and patted her shoulder. “We will find your child, Obsidian. I promise,” she said in a soft voice, but then it hardened. “And when we do, we will make the perpetrator pay. But this is bigger than you or me. We fight to free all of Gaia and in doing so, we will find all the stolen hatchlings if they are here.” Shikoba turned on the spot, frowning. “We still need to find the Shamankas, however, and the only way I can think of is to fly. We need to search from the air.”
“What makes you think she is still in this area?” asked Sarcee.
“She is a Shamankas. She will never leave this area. It is the source of her power. She draws strength from the sacred swamp.” Shikoba turned in the direction where the swamp was suspected to be located. “In fact, I will bet that is where she is. All of this,” she waved her hand at the scorched clearing, “was likely a decoy, now that I come to think about it, a place for her enemies to attack without touching her. It feels like the kind of thing she would do. She was too smart to get caught this way.” Shikoba walked over to the low-walled stone well and peered over its edge. The well fell away a good thirty feet. The sides were dry and moss free. At the base rocks could be seen, but nothing grew within the hollow chamber. “See? The well is dry. No one has used this for water in a very long time.”
“Well, she has one furious enemy then. They made sure she could never return. This place has died forever,” said Sarcee.
“Which makes him or her a powerful enemy of ours with a dragon of their own. We must be on our guard at all times,” said Shikoba, “lest we be taken by surprise.” Shikoba strode over to Obsidian’s back and climbed into the saddle.
“I will search from the air, too. I can fly lower than Obsidian.” Sarcee shifted into a crow and launched himself into the air, disappearing over the height of the trees.
Shikoba watched him go then patted Obsidian’s glossy grey scales. “Let’s find the Shamankas.”
Obsidian roared, then launched into the air. The powerful strokes of her wings swept them into the sky, the cool air rushing by Shikoba’s face. Shikoba felt a thrill of excitement. She loved to fly. Despite her worry over finding their objective, she grinned. Shikoba felt free of the burdens of responsibility when she was in the air. For a short time, she could imagine that there was no looming war, no stolen eggs, no imprisoned provinces. She could imagine that the sparkling white snow below was pure and clean, and free of lies and deceit.
A dark patch in the midst of the snowy landscape announced the presence of the swamp. A dense cloud of mist hid everything. Shikoba had forgotten about the mist. “Obsidian, we can’t see anything from up here. The fog hides the ground!”
I will dive into the mist and see if we can fly low over the swamp. If not, Sarcee can scout it out as a crow. Obsidian swooped toward the mist, and they plunged into the cloud. It was dense and wet, dampening her skin the second they made contact with it. Shikoba was shivering before they had flown more than a few feet through the clinging fog.
“This isn’t going to work,” she shouted.
I agree. Obsidian leveled out then rose up through the cloud, breaking through the top into blinding sunshine. But sunshine did not burn like this.
With a gasp, Shikoba screamed, “Dragon!” Obsidian twisted away from the roaring gout of flame, presenting her belly to the all-consuming fire to protect her rider. She dived back into the mist to hide them, but their attacker knew their location and flames followed, melting across the path of their last trajectory. Obsidian twisted again, diving low to avoid the spiraling gout of flame. Fire raked her right wing, and she roared in anger and twisted again. Too late, she saw the trees. They bounced off one tree and then another and another, crashing through the swamp like a runaway boulder down a mountainside. Obsidian furrowed through the undergrowth, sliding to a muddy halt on the ground, panting with pain. Shikoba groaned and released her legs, falling to the cooling surface. Her skin was a mass of blisters from the right side of her face down her arm and her leg, her clothing burnt away in places. She was burning up, she could feel the dragon fire racing under her skin, seeking more flesh to devour. She retched and staggered toward the edge of a duckweed-filled pond. Shikoba collapsed into the water, submerging herself in the pool and sinking below the surface as the light faded from her eyes.
***
Bright flashes lit the fog as though a million fireflies had coordinated their illumination, but this was no firefly.
Dragon fire, thought Marsai as she watched the flames spread overhead. She heard a dragon scream, then she staggered as the ground shook from an impact that made the permafrost surrounding the swamp jiggle. Trees snapped and crashed to the ground. The roar was deafening, but it did not disturb her unconscious passenger slung over the saddle of the gelding. Marsai remained still until silence descended over the swamp. She listened for the return of the frog song, that underlying croak that assured all was well. When it did not return, she tied the gelding carrying the man and her own mare to a tree trunk.
Marsai did not need her moccasins to point the way this time. She could see the glow of the burning trees, dissipating the mist surrounding the green canopy. It pointed like an arrow to the impact point. Marsai frowned.
Why have the dragons returned now? Why do they interrupt my sanctuary? She edged closer to the point of impact, keeping to the shadows cast by the swamp willows as she worked her way across the ground on paths known only to her. As Marsai drew closer to the spot, the fires dimmed as the encroaching fog dampened their flames. With a last spluttering spurt, the swamp was swallowed by the dark, but not before she spied the object of her search. A woman lay in the water, held above its surface by the claw of a dragon. As Marsai watched, the dragon lifted the unconscious girl and placed her on the ground. A smoking snout protruded from beneath two glowing eyes, eyes that were fixed on her exact location. The great muzzle opened displaying sharp white teeth back lit by a growing flame. The dragon’s rumbling, warning growl vibrated deep within in her chest.