MARSAI MOANED. Every inch of her body hurt from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers. Her head felt like an overripe melon, swollen and ready to explode at the slightest touch. Her body rocked back and forth, eliciting a groan that escaped her lips. Immediately the rocking slowed, and she sank back into oblivion, unwilling to wake.
“Shamankas, I need you to wake. Come on, open your eyes.”
The shaking started again. Marsai cried out, her eyes opening. She could not focus them and blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. She raised her fingers to the source of the pain in her head. A row of neat stitches bound the laceration on her scalp. She winced at the sudden throb that pulsed under her hand.
“That’s it. Wake up,” said a disembodied voice.
An arm snaked around Marsai’s shoulders and eased her up off the ground. The pain was the march of fire ants, stinging a path up her legs and arms. She clutched at the arm holding her as the world spun. “Who are—”
“Chutzpa. We are safe for the moment. Come on now, drink this.”
A metal cup pressed against her lips. Marsai opened her mouth to swallow the water, grateful for its soothing path down her throat. As her vision steadied, Chutzpa swam into view. “Chutzpa. Thank you. Where are we?”
“We are a few leagues from where the attack occurred. It’s only us. We have lost the others.”
“Shikoba?”
“Gone. The emperor has her.”
A horrified expression spread over Marsai’s face. She pressed her eyelids closed, unwilling to acknowledge the fearful truth of his words. Shikoba in the hands of the emperor would be a death knell for Shadra. She was the only one who could bring down the barrier. “And Obsidian? Sarcee?”
“I do not know.” He took his supporting arm away and crossed over to his horse, rummaging through his saddle bags. Chutzpa found a small packet which he brought back to Marsai, squatting by her side. “Here, chew this. It is a tree that grows in Tunise. Its bark has a substance that will numb pain.” He took out a square piece handing it to her. “It tastes bitter at first, but that will go away. Chew the willow bark, but do not swallow it. You only want to soften it. If it starts to break down to a paste, spit it out.”
Marsai took a square of the bark and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly. Her face scrunched up at the taste, but she continued chewing. A soft, silken sensation spread out from her jaw, easing the stiffness of her wounds, the after effects of a battle fought, but not won.
“That is miraculous. Thank you. We need to speak about this tree called willow but not now.” She took in their surroundings. Dead leaves carpeted the frozen ground at the foot of some bare trees. Patches of snow hugged the northern shadows of the trunks. She shivered with the cold. They had left the swamp behind. “We are in quite the pickle. What will you do now?”
Chutzpa, his arm resting on his thigh, gazed in the direction of the sea. “I intend to do as I started out to do. I intend to rescue my brother. Shikoba could be anywhere, and we have no idea where to find her. I would aid her if I could, but I don’t know where to start.” Chutzpa straightened to a standing position, then offered his hand to help Marsai to her feet. “You are welcome to come with me, if you wish. I am heading for the coast, but I would be appreciative of your company and knowledge of Shadra and its people. Maybe we will find a clue along the way, a whisper or a rumour of Shikoba’s whereabouts. Or maybe Obsidian will find us. If not, I can drop you off at a village we pass. You will have aid with your people.”
Marsai murmured a thank you for his assistance and stood, swaying on her feet. She spat the bark out, then said, “As I have no horse, I gratefully accept your offer to ride with you. These old bones don’t weigh much.” She hobbled over to Fire Dancer and accepted further help in gaining the saddle. Chutzpa put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up into the back of the saddle. He reached down and grabbed Marsai’s arm and hoisted her up behind him. As she swung her leg over the back of the horse, her foot brushed against a long pole strapped under a fold of leather on the left side.
“You found Shikoba’s spear?”
“Yes. Sheer good fortune.” Chutzpa gathered up the reins while Marsai settled her arms around his waist to balance herself, as he urged Fire Dancer into a walk. “I was leading us away from the clearing when I saw this shimmering blue haze under some ferns. I guess when she was attacked, it flew into the patch growing along the roadside. If the magic of the spear had been extinguished, I would not have seen it.” He glanced down at the rod. “The glow has faded now.”
“That would be because Shikoba has passed beyond the distance that the wielder can maintain the bond. It gives us a clue as to where she might be.”
“The magic has a range?” he asked.
“Oh yes. While physical contact isn’t required, the magic has its limits. And as it is bound to all three of them through the triad merger, all three must be out of range. I think it is safe to say that Obsidian and Sarcee have gone after Shikoba. Once all three passed out of range, the spear’s magic will be silenced.”
He rode in silence for a while, thinking over her words. Then another question occurred to him. “So this bond always exists with the spear?”
“Yes, it is her weapon to bear,” said Marsai.
“Then it will reactivate when we come within range of any of the triad?”
“Yes…I believe it will. Well done, Chutzpa. I think we have discovered a way to know if we are close to rejoining our friends.” Satisfaction oozed from Marsai’s voice. “I think I can tweak the spear to glow with higher intensity the closer we get. We will be able to use it as a compass of sorts.”
Marsai closed her eyes and mouthed a spell, running her hands along the shaft to the tip. She gripped the metal point for a moment. It flared with light, illuminating the bones of her fingers through her flesh. The light faded, and Marsai took her hands away. The very tip glowed with a blue flame.
“Watch this,” she said, moving the staff slowly in a circle as she revolved on the spot. The small flame stayed at the same glowing intensity until it was pointed in the direction of the coast. When it was pointed down the road it flared higher and danced with excitement.
“Excellent!” Chutzpa touched his heels to Fire Dancer’s sides, urging him to follow the road. Fire Dancer sprang ahead, seeming to not notice that he carried two riders on his back. The quickened pace made conversation difficult, so they rode in silence. Several times, Fire Dancer alerted them to activity on the road ahead, pricking his ears forward with interest. They moved off the road to avoid encountering any more people, moving into the trees and keeping a solid screen of shrubbery between them and the travelers of the road.
The third time they hid in the woods, a column of men, riding side by side and bristling with weapons, passed by. Peering around the thick trunk of an Ironwood tree, Chutzpa counted a dozen horsemen in the company.
When they had disappeared from view, he whispered, “Those men are from the mines. I recognize their uniforms.”
Marsai’s eyes followed the retreating backs. “Some are Shadrian, and some are Tunisian. I recognize one of them. He is a young man from Shikoba’s village.” She sat on Fire Dancer’s back, sheltered behind a clump of smaller Ironwood trees. Chutzpa frowned and then rejoined them. He motioned to Marsai and urged Fire Dancer back onto the road. The horse sped up as Chutzpa was anxious to put as much distance as they could between the men and themselves before having to stop for the night. He did not trust them to remain on course. His head tilted as his eyes swept the skies, searching for the silhouette of a dragon. One he wanted to see, the other he did not. He frowned as a memory resurfaced.
“Shamankas, did you see the woman on the back of the dragon with Madrid?”
“Yes,” Marsai said in a flat tone.
“Do you know who she is?”
“Yes,” Marsai whispered.
“You do? Who is she?”
Marsai closed her eyes at the memory. “She is the tribal queen of Shikoba’s home village of Saami. She is Shikoba’s mother.”
“Shikoba’s mother?” Anger surged red hot, bringing a flush to Chutzpa’s cheeks. “That lousy, filthy toad of an emperor. I should have run him through when I had the chance.”
“Had you tried, you would have died. We all would have died. You had no chance,” said Marsai, the words on her tongue sharp. “What is behind is done. We know her plight. Perhaps we will find a way to free her in time.”
Chutzpa growled with irritation, “She is the one that warned me that help was coming. She is the reason the two of us are alive right now. We owe her our lives.” Frustration burned in his stomach. “I wonder if she recognized Shikoba? She must have seen her taken by the emperor. We must find Shikoba.”
Marsai patted his arm. “We will find her. But first I need to rest. I cannot take much more travel this day. Up ahead, you will see a path leading off the road by a lightning-struck Ironwood tree. Take that path. It leads to an abandoned long house that I have used for shelter on occasions.”
Chutzpa spied the turnout and guided Fire Dancer onto the trail. It was little more than a deer trail and curved away from the road and down into a steep-sided valley. The footing was treacherous, narrowing in places as it slowly meandered to the base. Snow clung to the northern shadows and the temperature dropped as they lost the sun behind the cliff face. An eagle cried as it launched into the air, disturbed by their presence. Chutzpa checked the sky again, in case the cry had been a warning of a predator larger than the eagle. Nothing else moved in the late afternoon sky.
The long house was tucked up tight against the hillside with a back wall made of stone. It clung to the mossy rocks on which it had been built. Windows broke the long logs in irregular intervals, placed where the log ended rather than cutting them to fit. No smoke rose from where he knew the chimney hole would be located. They were alone.
Chutzpa slid from the saddle and helped Marsai down before picketing Fire Dancer to graze near the small fall of spring runoff. It would soon solidify with the falling temperatures. Chutzpa gathered his saddle bags and followed Marsai into the shelter. He glanced one last time at the sky before ducking through the doorway. A pangolin hide covered the entrance.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to continue the trail. Besides, he needed to gather the supplies he needed to make it into the valley and had not thought to ask for them from the Shamankas. A quick search of the shelter produced the supplies he had originally gone in search of before being attacked by the guards from the mines. Tomorrow, they would reach the mines, and this time, he would be ready.