Chaos Shifter

by Marc Secchia

  “I’ll come up,” she smiled back.

  Marching off, the older Shifter called, “Don’t forget what we discussed, young Iridiana.”

  His girl made a pained expression. “Ugh. I had no idea glamour magic was so complex, but I’ve already learned a great deal from just a few brief conversations. She’s a smart one, alright. Problem is, it’s extremely tricky to glamour shield as many different forms as I have, because they vary so much in volume, body shape and function. The closer a glamour is to the underlying form, the easier the illusion is to create and sustain successfully.”

  “So, let me understand this Isle. Disguising a flower as a Dragoness, say …”

  “Would more than tax a master of the art.”

  “Basically impossible?”

  “Like I’m basically impossibly in love with you, Boots. Now, be a good boy and go play with your oversized axe. I can see you’re itching to carve your initials on a few Drakish bones.”

  He left shaking his head. One day, he would best that girl in conversational repartee. Probably, the day a sixth Moon leaped into the sky.

  Chapter 21: Saboteur

  Toward dawn, the disturbance spawned by Thoralian’s command of the First Egg reached the Island of the Mistral Fires. The phenomenon was peculiar indeed. Green fires played up walls and swirled in the corners of rooms, but their energies did not appear to do anything particularly sinister. They neither triggered Iridiana’s Chaos magic nor threw her into uncontrolled spasms of transformation, but on the contrary, she experienced greater control over her powers than ever before, and certainly greater visible power. When she began to spark visibly at the talon tips, however, Yua’tak’tix advised Asturbar to place her at the battlefront and see what she could do. Excess power should be bled off, or it could lead to unforeseen side-effects.

  Maybe that was the Star Dragoness’ problem. The outrageous excesses of her power had warped her brain.

  Working with Yuaki up near the hole, the Brown Shapeshifter began to create holes of about five feet in diameter in the bulwarks for Iridiana to fire out of – and fire she did. Her fireballs were unique, like whisper-quiet white comets that floated into the enemy’s midst before flaring into blinding, devastating whiteness. Iridium flares, Yuaki christened them promptly. Certainly, in a lively hour of that morning before she grew weary, she taught the Drakes the meaning of fear.

  She isn’t strong yet, Yuaki cautioned them both. She’s only a well-grown fledgling, in truth. Magical capacity develops exponentially with age and mastery.

  Iridiana groaned as she massaged her temples with her paws. Tell me this gets easier. I’ll do more. I’ll –

  You’ll go rest, Asturbar snapped.

  Oh? The Dragoness whirled her eye-fires coquettishly at him.

  “MA’AM!” he roared.

  “Whaa!” Iridiana gulped visibly, before she tried to hulk over him. “What did you –”

  “Ma’am, kindly remove your scaly hide from my front line before I have it removed for you and turned into my personal throw rug! Which I shall beat out daily! UNDERSTOOD?”

  The Dragoness’ jaw smacked into the flagstones at her feet. Ha. A better man would have taken far less pleasure in eliciting that response.

  “Yes, sah,” she sulked.

  “You have two hours and not a minute more!” he shouted after her departing tail.

  Iridiana scuttled away faster.

  Turning, he caught the Brown Dragoness grinning hugely at him. The disparity between her physical stature and Iridiana’s was staggering. She stood almost twice the Iridium Dragoness’ height, but her sleek hide graced the enormous, mounded musculature of an adult Shapeshifter, so in terms of tonnage she had to weigh in at least three times greater than the younger Dragoness; perhaps as much as sixty or seventy tonnes of magic-stuffed, fierily volatile, highly intelligent Dragon.

  The Brown purred, “Dealing with Dragonesses, eh?”

  Asturbar’s brow drew down. “I’ll fight my own battles, thank you kindly, noble –”

  “Would you like a few pointers?”

  “Shouldn’t you be shovelling a few pebbles somewhere, Dragoness? I distinctly recall giving that order.”

  She stared! First, the belly-fires roared to life, then her talons gouged the flooring, before she relaxed suddenly and vented a great basso blast of laughter. “Oh, Marshal! You two are well matched. Well matched indeed!”

  Aye. Plus, he was feeling feisty and therefore in no mood for banter.

  Her right forepaw rose, clenched into a fist in the region of her third heart. May Fra’anior’s fourteen eyes burn ever brightly upon thy lives, o Asturbar of the Azingloriax, and Iridiana of the Dragonkind.

  Asturbar shivered! And from down the corridor and around the corner, he heard Iridiana yelp in startlement. “What was that?” he demanded.

  The Brown Dragoness looked puzzled. “I don’t rightly know.”

  Just then, they heard the screaming of incoming Drakes and the clangour of a warning gong higher up within the Mistral Fires fortress. Asturbar broke into a run.

  * * * *

  By the time he reached the hole at the top, it was too late. Hundreds of barrels of aromatic sallucid oil had already bombarded the top of the wreckage, and the oil ran in thick, golden trails down into the fortress. Asturbar berated himself furiously. He had failed to anticipate this vector of attack. None of them had even considered the danger an open hole at the top posed to an underground fortress. The oil was already pooling four levels below where he had hoped to shore up the defence.

  The fortress had never smelled so fragrant.

  His gut twisted. There were still civilians on some of these levels!

  “EVACUATE!” he roared.

  They had minutes at most. The bombardment continued up top, the barrels splitting open as they were hurled down from a height by orderly flights of Drakes. All around him, the soldiers and engineers filed away with orderly haste, while the Dragons worked rapidly under Bantukor’s direction, throwing furniture and rubble down to try to stop the oil spreading. Several Lesser Dragons had quickly snatched up catapults and were relocating them at a sprint.

  “Sah!” said his Commander.

  “Carry on with the evacuation, Bantukor,” Asturbar said. “But when this goes up … Gashukan. What can we do?”

  The Head Engineer shook his head. “Fall back seven levels at least, to the second major stone bulwark. Break open the cisterns above and hope the water at least reduces the damage – but sallucid oil burns hot. It’ll crack the stones. They’ll be well inside before we can stop them, sah.”

  “Can we still fashion bulwarks on the stairwell as planned?”

  “Plenty rubble, sah. That Brown available?”

  “Here,” growled Yuaki.

  The Engineer startled. “Oh. Can’t get used to you Shapeshifters sneaking about in Human guise.”

  The woman gave him a filthy look.

  “Right – alright!” spluttered Gashukan. “Well, everything on one through six is yours for the asking, noble Dragoness. That floor below six is thirty-four feet thick. We could try to seal the whole thing if you’re able? Then, there are four minor stairwells in addition …”

  Leaving them to the planning, Asturbar rushed downward two levels and then three, searching for stragglers. None must be left behind. Levels one through three had already been fully cleared, but four to seven were living quarters that they had planned to empty, but he had never issued the order, other matters claiming greater urgency. What a prize chump! He could easily imagine that a child might be hiding somewhere, or an elderly person might be forgotten – this was a nightmare! Bantukor had his units sloshing through the running oil, forcing everyone out. A pregnant mother. A father just about managing to juggle year-old twins in his arms; a soldier carrying a sick woman who must be his wife. Some fool was trying to drag his life’s possessions down the stairs. They had just not imagined a reversal would come this fast. He ran down an empty corridor, shouti
ng at the top of his lungs. There – what was that? A whimper? No …

  It took him precious minutes to locate the source of the sound. A child, shut in the lavatory, singing a nursery rhyme as she lingered over her business. When he smashed through the wooden door panels, she screamed.

  “It’s alright,” Asturbar said. “Come with me. Uh … pull up your skirts.”

  “You’re not my daddy.”

  “No. I’ll take you to your daddy. Hurry, please.”

  “You’re scary. No. I want my daddy!”

  He peered down at the little mite. She could be no more than four years old, a pretty child with the characteristic short, tightly curled black hair of Wyldaroon, but the brightest blue eyes that just lit up what could have been a serious face. Right now, those eyes brimmed with tears and instantly turned his heart into a molten puddle.

  Suddenly, it went quiet out there.

  Asturbar swore. There could be only one reason …

  WHOOOOSH!!

  He moved fast, sheltering the girl with his own body as flame thundered down the corridor outside, following a trail of aromatic oil that he had sloshed through. Asturbar clutched her to his chest. A towelling robe. Wet it. Finding the cistern beside the sink, he dunked the garment rapidly. “Listen. Girl, the enemy are trying to set our fortress alight. We need to run downstairs quicker than a speeding Dragon. It’s too dangerous to stay here.”

  Those luminous eyes just grew wider.

  On an impulse, he knelt, hopefully making himself less humongous. The heat radiating against his back was already intense. “I’m going to wrap you in this wet cloth so that you don’t get hurt, alright? We’ll find your daddy. I promise.”

  She sucked her thumb thoughtfully. “Alright.” The trust in her gaze almost broke him.

  “What’s your name?”

  “T’gansi,” the little girl whispered.

  Also the name of a flower. As he bundled her up, Asturbar knew he had no chance of keeping the inside of his helmet dry, this time. He thrust his helm firmly over his head. Right. Drat, his eyesight was blurred. Nothing to do with the intense heat, smoke and fire out there. Good thing he wore full plate. Well, good for soldiers who wanted to be broiled like meat in a roasting pan. As usual in combat situations, his thoughts came faster and faster, just snippets and rapid-fire decisions. They were close to the main stairs, right? Go to the left hand. Go fast.

  Bursting out of the chamber, he swung sharply to his left. Orange flames burst against the roof and rippled toward him like terrace-lake waters ruffled by a pleasant breeze, only this corridor was hotter than a charnel house and roaring like the inside of an angry Dragon’s throat. The mind had to overpower the body in order to start running into that death-trap. Sprint! Pumping his free arm, Asturbar poured all of his power into a short sprint, but he was over the staircase and beyond his landmarks before he knew it – he cast about in confusion. Where the staircase had been! They had already covered it over to protect the people below. How long had he been searching these levels? Just a couple of minutes, surely? He tried to suck in a breath, but the dry heat seared his lungs and throat. Fractional delays could lead to death. The secondary staircase at the end. Go!

  Again, he shot from the starting blocks, creating a dry, rushing wind of his own as he blasted through the blistering columns of upward-rushing flame, trying to keep close to the walls, where there was slightly less smoke and flame, it seemed. A crackling roar beat against his ears. The fire was so hungry. The doorposts licked by flame. The hangings and tapestries bursting into a bizarre, crimson-chased form of life that was all too brief, all too intense. He was running flat-out when he saw the ceiling ahead begin to sag. No time. All he could do, was lower his head and adjust his body position in anticipation of a violent impact, while he shielded his precious burden with an upraised, braced right arm and clutched the girl beneath his torso with the left.

  BOOM-BLAM-CLANG! With a series of huge shouts, Asturbar bulled through the falling rocks, was smashed to his knees, and surged to his feet once more. Hurdling a fallen roof beam, he took a heavy, glancing blow upon the right shoulder that almost spun him off his feet. He scrambled along upon three flailing limbs, using the right arm now as an additional prop. Got it! Through! He cried out in horror when he saw the conflagration roaring up that smaller, circular stairwell that led downward, but it was already reducing. Worse … they had to be blocking it from below!

  Seizing the handrail, Asturbar tore the metal bodily from its roots as he used it to change direction and propel himself feet first down the stairwell. No time for elegance. The average Azingloriax backside had plenty of padding, and this one was armoured to boot. He rattled downstairs like a runaway ingot, clanking off every step and using his feet and free arm to guide himself around the tight bends. Thank the stars for his helmet. Fire rushed over his crysglass faceplate, but only a small amount found the cracks. It was protection enough. And although the garment steamed merrily, for he could smell the out-of-place humidity, the girl had not yet screamed again. Instead, he thought he heard laughter! Oh, that this were indeed just a game; oh, the joy of innocence! Children saw things differently.

  Skittering around one final bend, Asturbar’s boots slammed into a wall of rock. That should not be there! Worse, he sat in a pool of flaming oil.

  A Dragoness roared, Boots? Boots, is that you?

  Nyahi! In here!

  Fool. How could he forget the advantages of telepathic communication with his Dragoness? In a second, a silvery paw punched through the makeshift wall to Asturbar’s left. Rubble rattled off his helmet. Oh, Boots… are you alright?

  Good. Help me get this child … whoa!

  There was no stopping Iridiana. She snaffled them out in a trice, then held him in her paw while blowing over him to cool him down. Phew. Hot guy friend. Yummy. That’s a child? Boots, you old sap. I love you. Off saving the Island-World one life at a time, as usual. Actually, here we go.

  Water cascaded over his head.

  Ha – HA HA HA! he laughed, as she put down the bucket she had borrowed. “I guess that’s one way to cool us down.”

  Now T’gansi was squirming and complaining that it was not her bath time.

  “Stop up that stairwell,” Iridiana called to a group of soldiers looking on. “Plenty of oil still pouring down.” Using her paw, she wiped his back carefully, for the oil there must still be burning, he realised. “You’re looking charred to a fine crisp, Marshal.”

  “Just a touch warmer than usual,” he averred, unwrapping his bundle with trembling hands. In a moment, he uncovered a damp, curly head. “There we go. Iridiana, meet T’gansi – oh.”

  Asturbar whirled as, with a strangled cry, one of the soldiers who had been looking on, crumpled in a dead faint.

  “Daddy?” puzzled the girl. “Why’s my daddy so silly?”

  He grinned down at her. “Because soldiers can fight the most ferocious battles, but when it comes to their own daughters, it seems all daddies are pretty silly, T’gansi. It’s about … love.”

  * * * *

  The fires burned so wildly that the Drakes gave up their assault of the upper portion of the fortress, and switched their focus to the front entrance. The crimson hordes briefly tried the same trick, but the overhang above the main doors coupled with the natural slope and the Brown Dragoness’ work quickly persuaded them that this was an ineffective stratagem, save to deep-fry the Drake corpses already on the ground. The defenders gained themselves a small amount of breathing space, which was unfortunately plenty to gag at the stench of mountains of burning flesh, and time enough to assess the damage and to resettle people much deeper down in the fortress. Asturbar had Yuaki create new arrow slots above the blazing hole in the hope that they would come in useful once the conflagration burned down, and she sealed the flooring as if it were solid rock, patrolling every few hours to check the developing cracks and to make repairs where needed.

  He had never felt so imprisoned within the walls of h
is own home.

  Sleep? A butterfly’s chance in a volcanic eruption.

  In the darkest hours preceding the following dawn, the Shapeshifters made another concerted attack on the entrance, detonating volley after volley of immense fireballs against the wreckage for an hour before they sent in the Drake packs, and this time there was an additional edge to their screaming attacks. Asturbar theorised that it was the green fire driving them crazy. It was certainly making the denizens of his fortress skittish! The enemy attacked with unthinking ferocity, slowly and by force of numbers starting to muscle their way through the wreckage. At the same time the heavens opened and dumped a load of hailstones upon everyone.

  His Commanders cussed unhappily.

  Whatever protection the fire had afforded them had vanished within an hour of the hail turning to rain, and the Drakes began arriving in numbers. Asturbar watched them with Iridiana at his side. “No ingress now,” he assured her. “Not unless they change their strategy.”

  What he did not know, was whether or not to tell his catapult engineers to hold fire. He needed to make sure every shot counted, and it was like pinning fowl in a cage down there. They could barely miss, but what dent would those deaths make in the numbers that still roamed the nearby Islands and farther afield? He could not foresee how this would end well.

  “Are we just waiting on Thoralian, now?” Human-Iridiana asked pensively, echoing his deep-seated fear.

  “I rather hope not.”

  Barely had he spoken, when lightning split the skies and a huge Dragonwing appeared out of the dark clouds, a mile above the fortress. They descended at speed, slicing through the Drakes with talon and fang as much as with a concentrated, perfectly spaced volley of fireballs, each blazing mass expanding to fifteen to twenty feet wide. Crushing blows of their paws pummelled any Drake foolish enough to tarry in their flight path. Asturbar felt the fortress beneath his feet trembling at the concussive blast. Both he and Iridiana startled at the same instant, turning toward each other as they gasped, “Azhukazi!”

  The Chaos Shifter flipped forms frenziedly, until Asturbar held out his hands and said soothingly, “Nyahi, it’s alright.”