Taking on the characteristics of the monsters he created, a scaly-skinned Skotádi perched on his private watch tower outside his cave—a jagged cliff on the peak of Casda de Moor—staring at the large dark cavern that burrowed into the hollow of Mount Ream. Skotádi longed to enter the chamber where he first created his power, now guarded by a dragon that would consume him should he come near. Into the darkest of tunnels, the spell of eternity beckoned him—an incantation written on the walls of the cave that would give him an ever-lasting life.

Below, in between the two mountain ranges, lay the fertile valley of Tellwater. Spread out in a patterned landscape, Tellwater had proven the most valued property in all of Prasa Potama. Nestled in the mountain shadows, yet low enough for a more temperate climate, canals fed by the Ream River irrigated Lord Garion’s vineyard. Two days’ ride from King Tobias’ army, Skotádi found it perfect hunting grounds for his skura who raided livestock and brought the animals to his cave on Casda de Moor. From these creatures, he crafted the mountain giants. Meat for meat, any animal would do. The Vouchsaver preferred humans, but skura had not had luck capturing them yet, so sheep and turkey would have to do.

Skotádi regarded the vineyards of Lord Garion in the distance with a disgusted sneer. The valley should have been a dusty killing field filled with bodies of men whose souls he could have reaped, but for King Tobias’ new allies! Those magic-wielding foreigners destroyed his entire northern flock. He would need to make more immediately.

His pet skura, Demetri, clung to the slated rock with his talons to keep from sliding on the ice. Skotádi paced along the cliff edge.

“They think they won the battle, but they didn’t.” Skotádi scoffed.

“They killed hundreds of my brothers,” Demitri complained.

“Pawns, Demitri. Throwaways. Those skura were unintelligent beasts.”

“You made them,” the skura squawked and then recoiled when Skotádi pointed a bony finger at him.

“To raid, pillage, and kill. Do you think I can’t make more?”

Demitri hung low his vulture-like neck and scooted up against the slate walls. A brief snowstorm had dusted the mountain top the night before and left an icy wind that whistled through the cavern. The cold didn’t bother Skotádi. He’d spent too many years leaning over kettles of bubbling potions that rearranged flesh, formed scales, and restructured bodies. Breathing in the fumes of such mixtures left his skin like a lizard’s. His blood ran hot.

“Your brothers would have killed all those men, were it not for those power-wielding magicians. But for them I would have reaped souls and gained more strength and captured humans for my brew. Think how many mountain giants I could have created! Who were those men? Why hadn’t my scouts returned with news of the ones who left?”

“You have too many foes. I say rekindle your bond with Bahldi’s grandson. He’s ready. He would be a benefit to you.”

“In time, Demitri.”

Soon he would have the Potamian kingdom crumbling into a land of chaos. He would carry out his plans of conquest, and the world would turn against itself and succumb to him. When it does, with an army of men, he can approach the caves on Mount Ream and pursue his immortality.

“What if King Tobias is creating a new alliance with those strangers who wielded the magic?” Demitri challenged.

“It will end soon. Didn’t you see? The king’s daughter killed one of them. An important one, I think.” Skotádi smiled at the thought. War will soon stir in the west. “If my scouts would bring me word of where they live, I’ll make sure they end the alliance between King Tobias and these foreigners.”

“They live on an island.”

“You know this?”

Demitri squawked and moved nervously. “We’ve been near it. We’re afraid of the magic of that place. They command the elements. They make the sky dark, the wind to spin, and the sea to swell. It probably destroyed the skura you sent.”

“You go, then. Alone.”

“My Liege!” the skura begged. “Please, it’s a dangerous mission.”

“When have my missions not been dangerous?”

“What am I to do there? I can tell you where it is, in the middle of the sea.”

“Very well, since you know where it is, be my spy. Bring me word of who rules there, what their defenses are, and if there’s any sign of King Tobias’ soldiers.”

“They’ll surely see me,” the skura protested.

Skotádi snatched a vial from the sash around his waist and pulled the cork. The skura flapped its wings in protest and would have taken flight had not the wizard grasped its feet with his other hand. He jerked the beast upside down by its legs and let the potion drip into its mouth. Demetri’s body relaxed, its wings fell limp.

“Don’t question me again. Tell me if they declare war with Tobias. Find out who the princess killed, and what they’ll do to her should they get their hands on her. I’ll give you a disguise. No one will know you’re the enemy.”

With that, Skotádi placed his palm over the creature’s head and muttered a spell. The skura’s plates on its chest fizzled, as if melting and slowly each scale changed form, elongating, softening, breaking apart and diminishing into fine fluffy feathers. The skura’s man-head tightened. His nose and mouth grew together and hardened to a beak, and then its entire body shrank to the size of an overgrown raven.

“There!” Skotádi huffed, pleased with himself, turning the bird right-side up and pushing it away from him.

The bird opened its mouth and called out, but its voice had changed. No longer could it speak in man’s language. Skotádi chuckled.

“Yes, you’ll go to the island and observe their rituals. Learn their drumbeats and tell me all you see. Stay far enough away and unseen. I want you to observe. Tell me how they make the sky dark, the wind to spin, and the sea to swell. Do that, and I’ll reward you.”

Demitri may have complained if he could still talk. Skotádi took the bird with both hands and walked to the edge of his cavern.

“Go!”

He released his spy, tossing it out over the valley. The bird flailed over the chasm having to learn how to fly anew. Skotádi snickered over its struggle.

He would wait until Demitri returned with news. Perhaps it would be wise to attack the island if a war between the foreigners and King Tobias doesn’t break out.