Chaos Shifter

by Marc Secchia

  The Shadow Dragon gaped. In that instant, Asturbar felt a tingling in his mental link with Iridiana, and a faction of a second later, Ardan’s eyes changed. The darkness drained away. Light shone anew. ARAANYAA! was the cry of his soul.

  The stricken young woman just convulsed upon the cold stone.

  Leandrial roared, What have you done? The Star –

  I will evict the abomination! came the thunderous retort. Much have I suffered within the corridors of my upper reaches, and much more below, but this desecration I will never tolerate. Never! I swear this upon my eternal fires. In all my centuries of life, never did I imagine that a whelp of Iosaxxioa should dare to step paw in my halls! Take it away! Away, thou loathsome Chaos Beast! Flee and never return, and let thy miserable life be wracked by the wrath of holy Fra’anior for all eternity!

  Iridiana is a fledgling Shapeshifter, Leandrial cried, levering the broken hangar door open with her forepaw.

  More the fool you are for sheltering such –

  Who is a fool, Yiisuriel?

  YOU ARE, LEANDRIAL!

  The other Dragoness hissed, It is you who lacks understanding, great one. Iridiana is a Chaos Shifter, the first of her kind. She is good.

  YOU BENIGHTED FOOL, AS YOU ALWAYS HAVE BEEN REGARDING THESE LITTLE ONES! YOUR BARRENNESS BLINDS YOU TO THE TRUE PERIL!

  Mighty as she was, Leandrial’s form juddered violently at the impact of these words, and Asturbar saw much emotion flaring within the white expanse of her eye. She was hurt. Shamefully wounded, insulted and outraged, by how cravenly this Yiisuriel-ap-Yuron had attacked her. One great paw clenched, then unclenched. She seemed stricken, and his heart bled for the mighty Dragoness.

  Iridiana quivered upon his arm.

  The great voice ground out, Flee, thou ill-starred child of Chaos. Flee, and never return. I and the brethren of the Air Breathers have spoken our final word on this matter. And you, Aranya – you must shun this abomination, too, before the dread evil of Chaos destroys us all.

  Suddenly, Iridiana unwound from his arm and transformed into a dragonet. Tail coiled about Asturbar’s neck, she hissed at the ceiling, He whom I destroyed is called Thoralian, your archenemy.

  SILENCE, THOU MITE!

  Asturbar growled, How dare you injure Leandrial, Iridiana and Aranya herself? I –

  GET OUT! YOU AND YOUR ACCURSED PIECE OF CHAOS FILTH! NEVER SHALL YOU ENTER MY PORTALS AGAIN!

  This silence was grievous, wounding like whetted knives carving holes out of hearts.

  At length, Iridiana said softly, For all your great wisdom, Yiisuriel-ap-Yuron, your speech only heaps dishonour upon your own conscience. Asturbar, will you take us away from here?

  She held her head high, but her lower lip trembled.

  * * * *

  They departed in bewilderment and hurting, borne upon Leandrial’s left fore-talon, which lifted them away from Yiisuriel’s portal and slipped them gently into that immense but now empty mouth. The huge Dragoness turned away. We must depart this place.

  Asturbar said, Let us go, Leandrial. This is our battle.

  No. I will not hear of it.

  By the note of finality in her voice, Asturbar knew she would not be argued out of whatever course of action she had decided upon – for now, that seemed to be first and foremost to leap clear of Yiisuriel, and to keep running over the horizon, but as she descended she began to produce an eerie keening sound deep in her throat that drew responses from near and far. She was mourning – rage-mourning, as Dragons put it, that draconic emotion akin to dark-fires rage when a Dragon was at their most dangerous, yet also faced the peril of going feral.

  He touched Nyahi upon his shoulder. “Alright?”

  “No.” After a long pause she added, “Yes, but no. Do you understand, Asturbar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you now leave me?”

  An expletive half-exploded from his mouth before Asturbar muffled it with his hand. When he had regained some command of his surging feelings, he said tightly, “You may receive that for the negative, ma’am.”

  Her laughter was a wild wail, closer to anguish than to mirth.

  “Nyahi, what I don’t understand is –”

  “Boots, I need a moment, please.”

  He bit his lip. Leandrial –

  Likewise, snarled the Land Dragoness.

  “Excuse me.” Setting down the bemused dragonet, Asturbar stomped off across Leandrial’s tongue, glared down her cavernous gullet, and vented his feelings at not inconsiderable length and volume. Then, he about-faced. “Forget I said all of that, Leandrial.”

  He tromped back, scooped Nyahi up, and just held her.

  * * * *

  When she transformed into her Human form, Iridiana had that glazed look about her eyes that betrayed the depths of her shock. Chanbar had been right. Yet, Asturbar had never expected the draconic response to her nature to be so public and vitriolic, nor to originate with a venerable elder of the race. What was this visceral hatred of Chaos, anyways?

  “Iosaxxioa?” he muttered. Whatever.

  Iridiana murmured against his shoulder, “Let it go, Boots. Just hold me.”

  His utterance, however, seemed to begin an unexpected process of restoration, or at least re-balancing, in their mighty hostess. The wild churning of her paws slowed. Soon, her gait changed to stronger thumping impacts that proclaimed she had ‘landed’, but the rushing surge of her passage continued unabated. She seemed to be battered from without by powerful currents and from within by storms of emotions. Fancy linking Leandrial’s barrenness to her beautiful, mothering nature? Asturbar could hardly imagine any greater insult for a female of any species.

  At length, Leandrial said, “I’ll continue to move North, parallel to the Air Breather’s path. There’s heavy turbulence generated by the First Egg’s passage through this realm. I believe the Thoralians have been using the First Egg’s power to manipulate the environment in order to transport it, for such is its power, they have as yet been unable to touch it. We’ll wait for a communication from Aranya.” Her voice softened. Warmly, she inquired, “How fare your fires, little ones?”

  “Dampened,” said Asturbar.

  “Dreary,” whispered Nyahi. “Leandrial …”

  “I have no answers either,” the leviathan rumbled at length. “I don’t know what ‘whelp of Iosaxxioa’ means, and I don’t understand what provoked such fear in Yiisuriel-ap-Yuron. I am too old for such games. One might have thought an ambulatory mountain of some 1,476 years of age, or circuits of the Island-World about its suns as we low-dwellers prefer to refer to years, might have learned a modicum of restraint and respect for her fellow-creatures. But no, that was clearly a fear-fight response, and I cannot tell you why. I do not know this lore.”

  “Are you alright?” Iridiana asked.

  After a lengthy pause, Leandrial whispered, “Your concern honours this Dragoness. In the briefest possible answer: I was trapped North of the Rift, separated from kith and kin, for one hundred and fifty circuits – for many a long season of my life have I pursued the First Egg, little ones. Very long indeed. So aye, I was first barren in the sense of loneliness and loss, and later, due to physical injuries sustained in my battles with the traitor Shurgal for the First Egg, and in three times trying to re-cross the Rift Storm. So nay, I have never enjoyed egglings to call my own.”

  Asturbar said, “It was a cruel word.”

  Leandrial heaved a sigh that started upon her lips and ended a mile and a half away, at her tail. “Aye, Asturbar. For my part I would rather be blinded by love, than bereft of it. I … you do not mind …”

  Iridiana chuckled bleakly. “If I could, I’d find a form in which I’d proceed to hug you breathless, Leandrial.”

  The cavern shook with answering laughter. “Aye?”

  Iridiana whispered, “We know what this means, don’t we, Asturbar? You’re mothering us.”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “Are my truest fires so plain t
o your kind?”

  Glancing at Iridiana, Asturbar said, “Yes. They are white and true, and your mothering is of a fierce and beautiful kind. It reminds me of the legends of Fra’anior, who having no progeny to call his own, did choose to love the Human and Pygmy peoples with an abiding, fiery affection.”

  Or did Aranya’s very existence disprove that notion?

  The girl squeezed him rather fiercely herself. “Oh, Boots … I couldn’t agree more!”

  Leandrial shivered. The keening noise resounded again, produced somewhere deeper within her body near her first set of lungs, and then faded. “From tiny mouths, the most honouring of declarations. I am indebted.”

  “Uh … how?” asked Asturbar.

  “We hardly know each other, little ones,” rumbled the aged Land Dragoness.

  “We know enough!” Iridiana said stoutly. “You stood up for us against one whom Aranya said was the oldest living Dragon beneath the suns. Thank you, noble Leandrial. I – we – we’re just so grateful.”

  Aye, beneath the suns. Odd how the Star Dragoness had qualified her statement in just that way. Did that imply that Fra’anior the Onyx yet lived?

  Leandrial replied, “And I hardly know you, but I know enough. You are no ravening, mindless Chaos Beast. Do the deeds of your mighty right paw not speak louder than origins, fates or magic itself? If Yiisuriel cannot see that – well, I will not stoop to name-calling. Dragons do not easily forgive. Yet somewhere in her accusations lies the key, for what is abominable is assumed to be evil, and she clearly linked chaos to evil. Now, this line of argument might strike you as a philosophical quibble, but hear me out. In my view, Chaos is not inherently evil. The Ancient Dragon Dramagon the Red was in no way linked to this notion of chaotic magic – his deepest fires were those of Sky-Fires, those fires innate to most Dragonkind in our Island-World. To qualify this statement, I must inform you that in the Rift dwell Dragonkind of quintessentially different fires, the Earthen-Fires, and beneath the floor of our world, we discovered seething hordes of the dreadful S’gulzzi, against which we battled in a great and terrible conflict, are also rooted in this type of fire. Aranya alone is of Star-Fires.”

  Star-Fires? Interesting. Then, had Istariela come from the stars? Where might her home be; how far across the cosmos?

  “Now should we speak of order and chaos, people and Dragons would generally believe that order is good and chaos, its diametric opposite. Therefore chaos must be evil. Yet Dragons believe in war, and war is inherently chaotic. A creative process can be orderly or chaotic, sometimes much of both, and yet turn out something good and worthwhile. Perfect orderliness can be stagnant. Life itself in the richness of its manifestations, that which we observe in the Island-World, is in many senses chaotic – it strives and struggles and wars and grows and breaks down constantly. Again, chaos seems to be a necessary reaction to the law of entropy. Yet when I look at the greater picture, what I see is Balance. Indeed, a Dragoness might argue that the Balance of juxtaposed forces is essential to their very existence. They feed off each other. Some posit they exist because of each other. To simplify, it would be hard to fully understand good if there were no evil. Injustice opposes mercy. Pain, healing. Order, chaos. Do you see what I am driving at?”

  Iridiana murmured, “I think I understand, but to believe …”

  “Belief is hard,” Asturbar agreed, squeezing her behind absently with his hand.

  “Not now, Boots.”

  “Ah, sorry. That was a no-further-intentions kind of … ah, caress. Bad time, clearly.” He coughed awkwardly. “Moving on. Leandrial, then, what about Chaos Beasts?”

  “Perhaps they are feral – the chaotic equivalent of feral,” she suggested. “No one knows, since we’ve never come close enough to a Chaos Beast to ask the right questions. Or perhaps they are a natural phenomenon, like a storm or locus of chaos magic. That seems a workable hypothesis.”

  Iridiana mused, “Oh! Then, why am I not mad? I mean –”

  With an encouraging and hopefully less perilous rub of her back, this time, Asturbar said, “You are not mad. Besides, I don’t see magic itself as inherently – well, anything. Hold on. This soldier’s having actual thoughts!” Over her chuckling, he clarified with just a hint of irritation, “Magic is magic, nothing more and nothing less. It’s a power, or a capacity, and it carries no metaphysical implications in its own right. I mean, it is not inherently good or evil, chaotic or orderly, but it manifests or is channelled in particular ways by life forms that have learned to use or abuse it, or indeed is present in creatures which possess physiologies that rely upon intrinsic magic. We war against what we do not know or understand; perhaps this is Yiisuriel’s fundamental mistake. Chaos is just a different – uh, channel. Curse it, I don’t have the right words …”

  “Most insightful, noble Asturbar,” Leandrial complimented him. “I concur.”

  “Huh. I like your soldierly thoughts,” said Iridiana, doing her very best to erase any remaining capacity for rational cogitation by kissing him passionately upon the lips.

  “I’ll try to have a few more, then!” he managed to splutter after a goodly hiatus. Nyahi was very insistent, after all, and he was easily distracted.

  Leandrial chortled indulgently. “Finished with your loquacious osculations, then?”

  “Were we loud?” Iridiana replied innocently.

  “I never fail to wonder at the apparent fickleness of Human consciousness,” said Leandrial. “One might think they have lost interest in a particular topic, but it seems to me that the usage of these peculiar customs such as flirtation, lip smacking and banter do both aid and abet the deeper thought processes. This is a conundrum which I would delight to discuss with you at a more opportune juncture. Now, how may I help you?”

  Iridiana glanced at Asturbar, her eyes returning to their full brightness in the luminescence cast by Leandrial’s flesh. He nodded. “Yes. Ask her.”

  “Well, I can’t imagine discussions over at Air Breather Central will take less than several hours,” his girl said wryly. “Although, I believe that Ardan might have been restored to his right mind?”

  “Yes!” Asturbar and Leandrial chorused.

  “Was that your doing, Iridiana?” the soldier added cautiously.

  “I believe I might have reached out – there was Aranya’s pain … and, uh, the Shadow …” She trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle. “I haven’t a clue, actually. I did something.”

  “Clearly, chaotic meddling in action” he said, opting for outright supportiveness.

  Nyahi mimed punching him in the jaw. “You big goof. Thanks. Still, if for that reason alone, this debacle has produced a good outcome.”

  Asturbar mimed a sagging jaw.

  Bending near to kiss the point of his chin, Nyahi said, “Yes, I’m serious. Leandrial, if you’re able to communicate with Aranya from this distance –”

  “I can.”

  “Good. Please tell her that I – we, thank you Asturbar – will not return to Yiisuriel or act in any way so as to endanger her alliance with the Air Breathers, or any other Dragonkind who cannot abide the presence of a Chaos Shapeshifter. I guess we’ll wait here, with you?”

  “Very well, little one.”

  “And then, would you honour us with your story?”

  Leandrial purred massively. Then, the great Dragoness said, “I should be happy to, on one condition. I wish also to hear the tale of your love. If you could condense the telling into just a few hours, that would be perfect.”

  * * * *

  Nine hours later, Asturbar and Iridiana had spoken their piece, and Leandrial was just moving from recounting her fledgling days to her first encounter with the ambitious Dragon warrior Shurgal, whom she kept calling, ‘the traitor’, when she paused abruptly in her storytelling. “By my fires, I declare, Aranya’s coming.”

  Asturbar nudged Nyahi slyly. “How far are we into your tale, noble Leandrial?”

  “Oh, perhaps one-sixth has been told,” she said
quietly, then stiffened palpably as they both burst out laughing. “What? What did I say?”

  He coughed, “We, ah, well …”

  Iridiana said, “I thought we were telling condensed stories, noble Leandrial?”

  “This is the condensed – oh! Oh, you lippy little troublemaker, you’re as bad as that Zuziana! Very well. Not a word more shall I speak.”

  “No, no, carry on,” they protested.

  “I’m far too insulted,” snorted the mighty Dragoness, sounding anything but.

  “Please, please, please tell us more,” Asturbar begged, trying to keep his lips straight and failing outright. His tone conveyed his smile perfectly.

  “Can’t we twist your paw?” Iridiana put in.

  “YOU? YOU’LL TWIST MY PAW?” Leandrial roared with laughter. If they had not been sitting inside her cheek pocket, they would have been blasted a league out of her mouth, Asturbar suspected, by the deafening force of her mirth. Still, it was good to hear her laugh again, for her recitation had been a dour affair so far, even though he found it fascinating to learn about life from the perspective of a deep-dweller. There was so much more to his Island-World than he had ever imagined!

  Nyahi worried, “What will we do once we’ve spoken with Aranya? Leandrial, what if she –”

  “Impatient fledgling! We wait and we listen, and then we decide.”

  Sometimes they forgot the huge disparity in their ages. Now, the weight of authority, a non-verbal demand for respect in the most draconic style, crashed down upon them. Nyahi sucked in her lips. Asturbar gnawed at a fingernail he had walloped at some point during the battles of the last few days. It had turned a very fine shade of purple.

  He said, “Leandrial, what about your injuries? Are you –”

  “I’M FINE!”

  Evidently not. But neither of them were about to argue with the suddenly temperamental behemoth. Asturbar had an inkling that whatever had passed in the intervening hours, the Isles proverb, ‘as stubborn as an inch never bridged’ would apply perfectly to a living mountain.