THE EMPEROR OF THE CITADEL was an impressive specimen of a man. Older than the physical years displayed on the borrowed face he wore, Madrid’s imposing stature was considered handsome by the servants he passed. They curtsied and stifled giggles when they saw the anger tensing his form. A cold glare met those brave enough to meet his eyes. Immediately they dropped to their knees with heads bowed as he stalked past them and down the halls of the main Citadel keep. His firm stride promised retribution to all who dared to anger him.
It had been a simple request, really. How difficult was it to obey his command and bring to him what he desired? His instructions had been clear.
Bring me the Shamankas. In chains, preferably. In pieces if necessary, I said.
Bring me the Shamankas, a simple woman, living a solitary life.
Bring me the Shamankas, an elderly witch of incredible power, forced into hiding by the bungling wizards around me and now hidden from me.
He gritted his teeth in anger. Now he would have to force her out of hiding. He knew very well where she had taken refuge. Being a water witch, she drew her powers from the filthy waters of the swamp. She and the swamp were one and the same. The source magic of the water elementals merged with her body and swam below the surface of her skin, giving her control over one of the purest of elements.
Madrid knew that one tied to the elements at such a base level, such as the Shamankas, was capable of great magic. He lusted to control the witch, to harness her powers and bring them to serve him.
Water was simply everywhere. Every living thing was made of water, to one degree or another. To kill with water, one simply needed to deny it to anyone else, including himself. To have control over her abilities not only put that raw power in his hands, but also protected him from harm.
But one could also build with water. Water was essential to live, to growth, and every living thing desired it. Water elementals, like all magic, were good and pure to one lifeform, such as fish but deadly to something else, like the fire breathers.
A good knife cuts both ways, and so it is with magic, mused Madrid as he pushed open the double doors to the training arena.
The cliff-top plateau jutted out from the mountainside and was surrounded by a stacked stone wall, held together with a water-resistant mortar imbued with earth magic. The binding between rock and mortar was unbreakable by design. It was built to withstand the frequent comings and goings of the juvenile dragons and their Djinn companions that used the flat disc to train. As they matured, they were partnered with the Citadel wizards, completing the bond that forged them into deadly weapons of the Citadel. Half of the dragons had graduated to this level of service.
It was time to put the rest of those weapons into play.
He crossed the open field to the wall of the mountain where the maw of dark caves dotted the curvature of rock. From a distance, they reminded him of mouse holes, barely big enough to squeeze through but he knew the distance was deceiving. Madrid’s destination was the cave assigned to Wizard Casper, who hailed from Shadra. He could see his dragon’s tail curling out of the cave. Madrid placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The air filled with the sound of dragon wings as Opaleye dropped down from his cave to land on the field in front of him. Appropriately named, Opaleye was a large male dragon, easily twice the size of the juveniles around him. The underside of his wings was alive with prisms of colour, embedded in the soft scales. His back was ridged with grey spikes tipped with opal marching up the back of his neck and ending in an opal patch on the broad plate above his nose and sandwiched between fierce, heavily lidded eyes.
Madrid paused in front of the dragon. “I wish to travel. Wait for me here.”
The dragon bowed his head in acceptance of the command and settled down to wait. His head turned to follow Madrid’s passage, smoke curling from his nostrils.
Madrid reached the cave just as Casper moved out of the shadows and into the sunlight. He tugged at his tunic, straightening it, and then bowed deeply at the waist as he approached, hands on his knees.
Madrid kept all emotion from his face, pausing in front of the man. He did not immediately release him from his bow, enforcing his dominance and will with the humiliating, subservient pose. The position exposed the back of Casper’s neck where his curly bronze hair ended and his tan tunic began. Madrid ran the nail of his index finger across the back of Casper’s neck, gouging the skin and raising a welt that bubbled with blood. Casper flinched under the cut, but he did not change his position. Madrid tilted his head, observing the cut, then dragged the nail in the opposite direction, forming an X of torn skin.
“If you disappoint me again,” he said softly, “that is where the axe will fall. You may rise.” Casper straightened, and his eyes met Madrid’s cold countenance. “Are you having difficulty fulfilling this assignment? Is there a personal loyalty that is impeding your will? I will know of it, right now.”
“No, my lord,” said Casper. “We are close to capturing both the heart bearer and the Shamankas. They are trapped in the swamp right now. We chased them into that vile place, but not before we injured them severely. I returned to join with the Djinn assigned to me, so that we may penetrate deeper into the swamp. We need her shape-shifting skills to go deeper into their hideout.”
“The Shamankas—your mother—is a grave threat to the Citadel, to the peace that I have fought so long to create between the provinces. She would undermine the union for her own selfish gain. Her narrow dogma seeks to protect the Shadrian at the expense of all of Gaia. Alas, as emperor, the duty falls to me to eliminate threats such as these.” Madrid walked past the young wizard and entered the cave where Mica rested, lying on her side. She shifted to her feet as the emperor entered, ducking her head due to the low ceiling. Her narrowed eyes did not leave the emperor as he walked along her side, inspecting her. “Where is your shape shifter?” he demanded. “Call her, now.”
The dragon huffed and then said, She comes.
The entrance of the cave darkened as a turkey vulture swooped into the opening, alighting on Mica’s ridge bone. The featherless head, covered in gore, rotated in Madrid’s direction, then the beak opened and a female voice said, “I am here, emperor.”
Casper joined them in the cave, passing through the entrance to stand beside his triad merger bond mates. Damas shifted out of her vulture form to reveal a pretty, female Djinn of indeterminate age. Golden locks framed a heart-shaped face. Her slender hands stroked Mica’s scales, calming the slight tremor that passed through her.
The emperor is angry, she whispered through the bond.
He is always angry, said Mica.
Hush, both of you. Do you want to get us killed? Casper stroked Mica’s nose, his back to the emperor so as to not give away his feelings as he reprimanded his bond mates. When he was sure that they would remain silent, he turned back to the emperor. “We are ready to depart now. This time we will not return until the Shamankas is captured or dead. We will not fail.”
“Fail? Fail. That word should not even cross your lips.” Madrid’s face darkened in anger. “You were given two simple tasks. Bring me the Shamankas and see to the increase of production of salt from the shore mines of Shadra. You have done neither. Their tribute has dropped to nothing, and I will not allow the Shadrian to mock me openly. They will be punished for their rebellion, but in the meantime, the fine imposed is a triple tribute. You have been given an open slate in this to gather whatever resources you need. See that every grain is shipped before you return, before the deadline of the spring equinox. You will not be late.”
The emperor studied the triad, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He extended his hand and lifted the chain that was barely visible under the collar of Casper’s shirt. His eyebrow lifted when Casper flinched at his touch. Madrid pulled the necklace out from under his clothing, exposing a crystal heart that pulsed. The core was dense and as dark as deepest midnight, but tiny shards of light shone from the crystal, sparkling and reflecting off the faceted surfaces. It swung on the chain, drawing every eye.
“This crystal with its obsidian core was given to you to set you apart from the core of magic that infests this earth. Why were you singled out, Casper? Why did the witches want you?” Casper shrugged his broad shoulders in response to Madrid’s soft words. “I will tell you why. You can sense the presence of magic. Not just your own, but the magic of others. It makes you the perfect hound, the perfect tracker. That is why I have trained you, given you the gift of its obsidian core.” Madrid gave the crystal a shake. “But beware, should the crystal ever break or its core fracture know that you are in mortal danger. This crystal is tied to your life force by the binding of the stone. It will serve as a warning beacon. Heed that warning, for if you fail me again, I will crush that crystal myself.”
Madrid closed his thin-fingered hand over the crystal. Casper gasped and clutched at his throat. His lungs compressed as his chest was squeezed by invisible fingers. His heart raced, crashing up against the fingers a phantom fist that wound around the organ, restricting its movements. Casper’s mouth fell open as he struggled to breathe, to remain upright, but a heavy haze pressed upon his consciousness. The encroaching darkness swept over him, and he fell to the stone floor.
Madrid released the crystal as Casper fell, ignoring the thud of his body, then turned to the dragon. His angry countenance encompassed Mica and Damas. “You will obey Casper as you would obey me without question and without hesitation,” he growled “I don’t need to remind you that your continued existence in this godforsaken land is due to his presence. If he dies, you all die. I would be very displeased if I were to lose even one dragon.” A long-tapered finger stroked down Mica’s nose. “You are beyond precious to me, hatchling.” His eyes shifted to the Djinn woman. “You, however, are beyond expendable. Should you fail me, you will die and I will take your place in the triad.”
Damas’s eyes widened with surprise. “How is that possible, emperor? You are bound to a dragon already!”
“That is none of your business. Just know it to be so. Now wake him. I expect you to be gone before I reach my chambers.” Madrid left the room and walked back across the grass to the waiting dragon, Opaleye. He climbed onto his back and settled into the saddle. With a few quick steps to gain speed, the pair soared off the edge of the wall and into the sky.
***
As the emperor soared away, Damas laid her ear on Casper’s chest. There was no familiar thrum of a beating heart. Alarmed, she straddled the prone wizard and began massaging his heart, working on restarting its natural rhythm. She breathed into his mouth. Nothing happened.
“Mica, help me please, he is dying.” Mica brushed her nose against Casper’s face and breathed on him with a gentle heat that tingled of healing magic. Damas massaged Casper’s arms and legs, stimulating his circulation. With a gasp, his eyes opened, wild with fear and shock. With a groan, he struggled to sit up. Damas slid off his lap and snaked her arm around his back to assist him.
Casper clasped his hand to his chest, where his heart was located, taking small, shallow breaths. “I feel like I have been kicked by a horse.” He pulled up his shirt to examine his chest. A lurid bruise spread under the mat of curling hair.
Mica tilted her head, and her nose wrinkled in the equivalent of a dragon’s frown. That bruise should be gone, she rumbled. I healed you.
“This is not a normal injury. It is from magic. Elemental magic,” said Damas. “The emperor has control of elemental magic. There is only one way to do that. He has bonded with a witch.”
He grows more powerful every day, grumbled Mica. Soon none will be able to stop him.
Casper pushed himself to his feet, groaning softly with the effort. “Then it is a good thing that he will soon be victorious. Take this warning to heart. I certainly have.” Still clutching his chest, Casper moved stiffly to Mica’s side. He laboured to pull himself up into the saddle, then hunched over its horn, his eyes drifting closed. Shooting pain ran down his arms and legs with the effort of mounting Mica. His eyelids scrunched closed for the space of several throbbing heartbeats. When the pain had calmed, he muttered, “It is time we were away. We have a mission to complete.”
Damas shifted into her vulture form and soared up into the air, following the dragon’s flight toward the one open crossing into Shadra by air. The prayer rock of the peace tower.