Chaos Shifter

by Marc Secchia

  “No,” said Aranya. “But, entering into the Shapeshifter life is –”

  “If I am a Shifter!”

  That was the moment everyone shouted at Iridiana.

  * * * *

  Folding his arms, Asturbar smirked at his girlfriend. Silver-blue burnished beautifully when she was blushing. Stretching out her foot, she kicked his right kneecap. “Stop it. The rest of Herimor doesn’t believe you.”

  He gave them a most surly rendition of the soldierly lip-curl. “Bunch of sakkix-sucking morons.”

  “A straighter word was never heard!” Ardan roared, slapping his thigh in merriment.

  Encouraged, Asturbar clarified, “They’re all ragion-worshipping ignoramuses, with all the understanding Fra’anior granted the common sand flea.”

  “Plainspoken soldier, eh?” chirped Zip.

  “Do my best.”

  “I just can’t get over … a potential sister!” Aranya exclaimed. Her face was transformed. Shining from within. Asturbar could hardly imagine what burden had just lifted from her shoulders, but it seemed mighty indeed.

  “Me neither,” said Iridiana, with a shy little wriggle. She pressed a hand to her chest as if to restrain the feelings that would burst forth any moment. Asturbar scrutinised her feelings too. It was his manly duty. Unshirkable. She whispered, “It’s magical. And weird! I couldn’t be happier, but I feel as if the gentlest puff of breath would waft me away on moonbeams of delirious astonishment.”

  Iridiana boldly threw her arms about the Princess, at which Aranya seemed taken aback. It seemed Immadia was not a culture much enamoured of touch, Asturbar concluded. Girly hugs? She seemed to break out in a cold sweat at the thought!

  “So, amidst all the chaos, we did learn something about Chaos magic,” Zip punned badly. “Tell them, Aranya. No, before you speak, I have something to say.”

  “Princess?” said Iridiana.

  “Apart from, hold onto that man of yours because he’s such a dish –” she sniggered at the other girl’s expression “– but don’t tell him I said so, alright? I’ve listened to a bunch of nonsense around Herimor about lineages and religion and all that malarkey. I want you to know that Shapeshifters aren’t so very sacred and special. They can arise spontaneously, and no Dragon who ever lived has any idea why. The closest they come is this mystical notion of Hualiama’s breath still floating about the Isles. I can tell you from personal experience that Aranya’s tears can make Shapeshifters, and that isn’t exactly a secret we want bandied about the Isles, is it? That information is about as explosive as your powers.”

  Iridiana said, “It doesn’t mean I can ever live safely in Herimor, does it?”

  With a tender mental caress that touched them all, Leandrial said, “It appears not, little one. But never fear, we shall be here to protect you.”

  “What about Iosaxxioa?” Asturbar asked. “Did I say that right?”

  “Ee-yo-sak-si-oh-yah,” Aranya said, exaggerating her diction. “Apparently Iosaxxioa was a little-known shell-sibling of Fra’anior’s, one of the original Ancient Dragons who arrived in the First Eggs at the beginning of the Island-World as we know it. As Yiisuriel tells the tale, the egg housing Iosaxxioa must have been infected by some unknown magical parasite or great interstellar Chaos power during that timeless journey between the stars.”

  Ardan and Asturbar snorted simultaneously.

  “When Iosaxxioa the Iolite Blue – yes, hold onto that thought – emerged from the shell, it was remarked upon that she seemed different to the other Ancient Dragons. They eventually ascribed her strange behaviour to a mental illness or disability. It’s clear from Yiisuriel’s tale that during the conflict between Fra’anior and Dramagon, Iosaxxioa took the side of the Onyx, but her unique range of powers aroused the suspicions and jealousies of Fra’anior’s allies. Although she was a smaller Dragoness, by the standards of the Ancient Dragons anyways, she famously decapitated Simiox the Yellow in single combat, and beat Xantuskator the Lime Green so badly that the mighty Hunter Dragon later perished of his injuries.”

  “Eerily parallel to the deeds of this Iridium Dragoness I happen to know, isn’t it?” Zuziana put in proudly. “You were awesome, Iridiana. Just in case anyone was wondering.”

  Nyahi’s smile was tremulous. “Thanks, Princess.”

  She thought upon Azhukazi.

  “So, anytime you feel like usurping reality to slip me and my babies out of Aranya’s soul, Miss Purveyor of Chaotic Marvels, just say the word.”

  “You’re pregnant? Inside there?” Asturbar gasped.

  “Hey, Ri’arion’s a reformed monk,” Zuziana audibly smirked. “I’m irresistible. Clearly. Not that I disrespect anyone’s religion, of course. He was just far too scrummy to resist corrupting.”

  “Before Zip-Zap gives us far too much information,” the Aranya voice cut in quickly, “it seems that Iosaxxioa’s madness led her to become involved in many aspects of dark and forbidden lore, which Yiisuriel was kind enough to list out for us in excruciating detail, but the key one amongst all of that, which you will not appreciate in the slightest, Iridiana, is –”

  “Necromancy,” she whispered.

  “Aye. Necromancy. With the additional detail that she was accused of experimenting upon Lesser Dragons, developing techniques to transfer fire-souls between living bodies, too.”

  “Uh, as in … you and Zuziana?” Asturbar blurted out. “Freaking murgalizards, that’s a low blow! I can’t believe she’d say that.”

  “She was very, very angry,” Ardan said.

  Aranya sighed and leaned her head against Ardan’s shoulder. “Aye. Let’s just say I think we should keep the matter of our potential familial relationship quiet at this stage, shall we? My misdeeds would only make your situation worse in their minds.”

  “Who’s them?” Asturbar asked.

  “The entire mental congregation of the Lost Islands Dragons and Humans,” Aranya said. “The Dragon Riders sit on the fence, but very few voices actually spoke up for you, or me, for that matter. To complete the history lesson, proofs were brought against Iosaxxioa. Yiisuriel said that with much grief, Fra’anior banished her beyond the mountains of Wyldaroon. He set in place a third sun to guard against her return. She believes it is from that place that Chaos magic yet arises, and that Chaos Beasts are Iosaxxioa’s way of trying to explore the Island-World in order to find a way back past the third sun. The Ancient Dragoness is said to have been driven insane with her solitary confinement, so let’s just say her return to our realms would be, ah …”

  “Undesirable,” Ardan deadpanned.

  Even Leandrial chuckled uncomfortably.

  “Generally, any notions in the region of ‘unthinkable,’ ‘catastrophe’ and ‘unleashing boundless evil upon the unsuspecting innocents of the world’ would cover her insinuations,” Zuziana noted, somewhat superfluously. “I’m afraid neither of you come out well in Yiisuriel’s estimation. Still, she will continue as an ally. The Thoralians are heading a few points shy of North, toward the Passage of Dark Fires, we believe.”

  Ardan said, “It’s unclear as yet whether he intends to attack Infurion in the Rift, or whether he will continue farther using the knowledge garnered from my mind, to return the First Egg to the last place where it might have been breached – to Jeradia Island beyond the Rift. In my culture, it is called the Island of Giants. There, he would attempt to reverse history by un-speaking the Words of Command that we believe allowed the Pygmy Dragon to hide an entire volcano and its Dragon Rider Academy inside the Egg, and – aye, Asturbar?”

  “Pygmy Dragon? Academy?” He waved a hand. “Explain?”

  “Last time the Thoralians invaded the North,” the dark warrior said, “our histories tell that he invaded with an army of Night-Red Dragons –”

  “The Night-Reds!” Asturbar growled. “Even I know that tale. It’s taught to soldiers as one of the finest examples of Dragon Marshal craft, highlighting the way he set Houses and Lines against each other and the
n cunningly trumped them all and vanished together with his Island into the aether, but it wasn’t Thoralian, it was – ah, your face betrays you, Shadow. Very well. Continue your tale.”

  Ardan added, “We aren’t certain, but it seems plausible that Marshal Re’akka was indeed one of the Thoralian triplicate, possibly a breakaway who wished to exert his hegemony over his shell-brothers. He vanished because he used the power of the First Egg to transport his entire Island and his Dragon army across the Rift, where he started his merry campaign of pillaging and destruction until he encountered this Pygmy Dragoness. She is meant to have been an Onyx colour, just like Fra’anior, and she stopped Re’akka in his tracks – again, we believe, by magical sleight of paw. But in so doing, because of the laws of magic, we believe she trapped herself inside the magic she wove even as she wrought Re’akka’s – or Thoralian’s – demise. By that time this Marshal from Herimor had succeeded, with the help of a dread creature from the beyond called the Nurguz, in decimating the population of Lesser Dragons North of the Rift. That in turn created Imbalance and space for the rise of the Sylakian Empire.”

  “Let me guess,” said Asturbar.

  “Thoralian again?” Iridiana said at the same time, reading his mind.

  “Aye, the triplicate seems indestructible,” Aranya said, with a verbal wince. “He wants what is within the First Egg and he will go to any lengths to secure it. Destroying all of Herimor and Wyldaroon is probably just another small Isle crossed in his quest.”

  “So we caused him a small case of the hiccoughs at the Mistral Fires?” Asturbar suggested.

  “Terminal indigestion?” Nyahi chuckled.

  Aranya gazed at them both, and it seemed to Asturbar that eternity inhabited her otherworldly eyes. “You performed a mighty deed yesterday. Both of you. Despite this trouble with Yiisuriel, I want to ask you formally – you and your Mistral Fires – to join us in the fight against Thoralian. You both are mighty and true, and I should rest easier knowing I can call upon allies of your calibre.”

  “Besides, you make an awfully sweet couple,” Zuziana put in. “That’s reason enough.”

  “Remoy, you are out of order,” said Aranya.

  “As usual,” chirped her other voice. “You meant to say ‘friends’ rather than ‘allies.’ Besides, you are very, very curious about the potential familial relationship, aren’t you, dear petal?”

  “Petal?” Asturbar hooted.

  Iridiana kicked him again. “It’s a term of endearment, Boots.”

  “For a Dragoness?”

  “I’m sure these Northerners think we’re just as peculiar as we think they are,” she said reasonably. “I speak for both of us when I say, unequivocally, yes. You don’t need to ask for our service, Aranya … uh, Princess of Immadia. Unfamiliar title. Sorry. You have it of our freewill. Asturbar?”

  “Yes indeed.”

  They laughed together then, and shook hands in the Northern style. Asturbar showed Ardan how to clasp forearms like a proper man of Wyldaroon, and then Aranya bemused them both by demonstrating the proper greeting in noble circles North of the Rift – first raising the proffered palm aloft, blowing once upon the fingers to demonstrate no ill intent, making a circle of peace with the right forefinger twice before the face, and then kissing the centre of the palm, between the life-lines, thrice.

  “How odd customs are,” Aranya laughed. “Now, Marshal, before we return, I am to receive your commands regarding your people. There’s a modest list of minor and major decisions to make. Leandrial, could you help us relay communications back to Yiisuriel?”

  “I shall. I have many questions for you, however, Star Dragoness.”

  Aranya nodded. “Forthwith. Now, Asturbar, with me. I see you already have command of telepathic Dragonish, so we shall work mentally through the list of action items. That will save a great deal of time.”

  “What passes for a modest list in your estimation?” he asked curiously.

  “A mere 3,574 decisions, with several hundred more being prepared by the mental network as we speak,” Aranya said promptly.

  Asturbar groaned, “I feel a headache coming on.”

  “Well, I already pre-vetted a few of the sillier ones, but I’ve kept those aside for your review just in case you’d like to groan a little more,” she said, re-tying her face veil. “To work, soldier! I usually find it best to start at the beginning.”

  “Aye, they taught her all these advanced, ‘how to start at the beginning’ management techniques in Star Dragoness school,” Zuziana laughed. “Isn’t that so, petal?”

  Aranya pointed at her head. “Can you believe I have to live with this the whole time?”

  Chapter 28: Sneaky Little Leviathans

  Once Aranya and Ardan had departed with numerous encouraging words and an admonition to stay put, and Asturbar was left rubbing his temples and ruing a throbbing migraine induced by all his mental calisthenics, Leandrial immediately called them to attention.

  Little ones, I have a modest suggestion.

  Mile-and-a-half Dragoness modest? Asturbar said, Go ahead. Hurt my head more.

  Well, I for one am not enamoured of the idea of cooling my paws here whilst the scouts report and Yiisuriel deliberates upon a path. Should we not debark from this laborious alliance and set course for the Uxâtaayn Kahilate, as you alluded to earlier, with the intention of asking your father about your heritage, Iridiana? There, we could find absolute confirmation of this most fire-stirring notion of linked bloodlines.

  Excellent idea! he enthused at once. Isn’t it, uh – Nyahi?

  I’m sort of banished in lieu of the death penalty, she explained, twisting her hands in her lap self-consciously. Convicted murderess, in case you’ve forgotten.

  Awkward, said Asturbar.

  A hint of tremulous radiance ignited her smile. Isn’t it just? I love your droll humour, Boots.

  He groused, Whose ragion-stinking idea of non-justice was that anyways? Judge Political Expedience at your service, ma’am, yours for a platinum mark and continued use of the throne?

  After a startled pause, Nyahi kissed him wonderingly. Where’d my simple soldier go? Perfect read of the situation, Boots. Inch-perfect.

  Taboos and political shenanigans! Null-fires nonsense, and certainly nothing a Land Dragoness looming over their little city wouldn’t resolve! Leandrial suggested at a deafening level of enthusiasm. No, I’ve been mulling over the options. Your Kahilate is one of the few places we stand a chance of finding out about your heritage, Iridiana. The other option seems to be to travel South to this realm of Chaos beyond the third sun, but that seems an inferior strategy, and far riskier.

  Besides that the Marshals Thoralian happen to be heading in the opposite direction, Iridiana agreed.

  Asturbar clapped his hands, growling, Aye, we owe the rest of his maggot-butts a spanking! Hmm, one issue. Aranya did order us not to stray far.

  Leandrial said, She said and I quote, ‘It would be good to remain in the vicinity.’ I believe we could safely interpret that as, ‘in the vicinity of Wyldaroon.’

  She laughed massively, shaking them until Nyahi clutched Asturbar’s arm. He drew her close with a rakish grin. Yes! Her tiny passengers stared at each other, standing almost nose to nose. Well, they had supplies … and willing transportation …

  I can even – how did Aranya put it – fudge the communication to make it seem that we’re still close? I’m that good.

  You are positively wicked, Leandrial, Asturbar said feelingly. And immodest, but Dragons were not often given to modesty. What’s fudge?

  Sounds subversive, Iridiana decided.

  He teased, This is one very, very sneaky little leviathan we’re standing inside, wouldn’t you agree, Nyahi?

  I thought the Remoyan was the rascally one, she said. How wrong was I?

  Huh. Who’re you calling little? You’re smaller than my scale-mites! Leandrial boomed. If you want to talk about mite-sized rascals, I’ll tell you all that I remember about that
little Pygmy Dragoness. So, as you Humans say, are you onboard with this idea?

  Literally and figuratively, said Asturbar, stealing a swift kiss from Iridiana. Well, how could it be called stealing when she smiled back so radiantly? Who cares about some ridiculous death penalty? You are an Iridium Dragoness and we have a one-Dragon army up our sleeve. What say you, beloved?

  I’m in a feisty mood, Boots, she said, with a saucy wink that immediately introduced a bloom of colour to her own cheek. Leandrial?

  I say: Northward ho, little ones!

  Iridiana laughed happily for the first time in days. Yes! I just wanted to say, you’re the best mother a Dragoness and her man-snack could ever ask for.

  Thunderous chuckles accompanied Leandrial’s shifting about to reorient herself. Her talons scraped and churned, gripping a mountainside; her eye-magic whistled forth, cutting a beam through the gloom they saw via her mental representation of the way ahead. Mountains. Gullies. Plant structures and layers many miles wide and deep, playgrounds fit for a creature of a Land Dragoness’ size.

  She surged northward.

  Iridiana snuggled against Asturbar’s chest. After a moment, she whispered, “Oh, Boots, a … a sister? How can this be true? Did you see how radiant she looked?”

  * * * *

  Asturbar would never have taken Leandrial for the type of character to pull a sneaky stunt over Aranya and her allies, but she had certainly been provoked – and perhaps, like him, she could do with finding space away from such negativity. He wanted to protect Iridiana. Even though it might be a dangerous move, finding out about her heritage was one way in which they could potentially avert an even greater danger. Herimor Dragons had a habit of embarking upon honour quests to win glory and reputation. The opportunity to expunge a scurrilous blot upon every creature’s religious beliefs would be irresistible to far too many.

  Also, he wanted to have a few choice words with Uxâtate Shan-Jarad.

  Terrain that to Air Breathers was tricky and fraught with the danger of toppling, was fresh meat to Leandrial’s Dragoness, to borrow a saying popular amongst mercenaries. She swam hard and fast, working as best she could with the treacherous air currents that formed riptides over and around the mountainous obstacles and channelled thunderously through canyons eight miles deep. The First Egg’s passage had churned up millions of tonnes of plant matter, including lianas that could measure over five miles long and were thirty feet in diameter, armoured with great twisting coils of thorns that snarled Leandrial’s legs and tail if she did not pay attention. She employed a combination of brief, highly directed blasts of her eye cannon to clear passage up to two miles ahead, and shaped aerodynamic shielding to nudge the closer debris aside. Shielding against the tempest was costly in terms of her magical resources, but it also served to smooth her passage – smooth being relative to the sixteen-mile diameter whirlwinds that developed amidst the conflicting forces, buffeting and bullying even a Dragoness of her size and stamina. At times she seemed to swim as much sideways as forwards.