Tytiana

by Marc Secchia

  Perhaps a seismic power?

  The Shadow Dragon went limp. Wings tangling languidly above his body, he plummeted from the sky.

  Every Dragon present froze as they gaped at the impossible sight of the huge Black Dragon felled by a single blow.

  I … I killed him! Jakani spluttered.

  No, it cannot be, she cried back. I’m coming, Jakani!

  No, go to him! Quickly, beloved!

  Flinging herself out of Shalanya’s paw, Tytiana ignited her flame and shot down toward the falling Shadow Dragon, matching the Onyx-Gold for pace. The other Dragons were beginning to react now; Shalanya screaming in horror and others in outrage, and then there came a cry like a faraway thunderclap over the city on the nearest Island, perhaps from where the Palace must be, and a Dragoness shot forth from that Island like a beam of light, her amethyst gemstone colours blurring with the speed of her approach.

  She cried, Ardan! ARDAN, MY SOUL!!

  Tytiana reached him first. Touched his paw, his belly. No hearts-beat! Reaching deep, she smashed her power into the flaccid body. BEAT! How to do this? Again and again, she shocked him with her power, until suddenly the great Dragon convulsed and she heard the welcome sound of breath rasping in his throat. She pressed her ear to his chest, despite being aware that her flame might burn his scales, and heard the faint but strengthening sound of his hearts picking up their complex rhythm.

  The Amethyst Dragoness reached them ten long seconds later. Catching her mate upon what appeared to be a bed of air, she glared first at Tytiana, and then at Jakani, and raged, You two imbeciles had better have a very good explanation for this affront! First you try to kill my Ardan, then you save his life?

  Releasing the Shadow Dragon, Tytiana winged over to her Dragon, who looked positively ill. She breathed, You’ve a way of creating first impressions.

  I … I just didn’t – I’m a prize idiot, that much I do know.

  Aranya, the illustrious Star Dragoness, fussed over Ardan for a couple of minutes while Tytiana saw the Princess of Immadia joyously slapping wingtips with two regal Dragons, a Silver and a Grey, who made a striking couple. Her parents? The teenage Shapeshifter was jabbering on at her usual high speed about how Jakani had ‘wangled her wards’ to nullify her agoraphobia – the Silver Dragoness, Imanya, began sobbing softly, and Aranya’s beautiful, sleek muzzle lifted in clear surprise to measure the tenor of her family’s reunion. Her vicious mood appeared to mellow.

  Why would her benighted fires not behave? Tytiana struggled and struggled, but there seemed to be no stanching the outpouring of her crimson and gold flame; Jakani clasped her person tenderly in his paw, and whispered, Unholy caroli, I’m a fool thrice over, but I shall make this right, Tytiana. Noble Ardan invited the blow, and I struck –

  I saw, Jakani.

  – never realising that my best might do – that!

  I understand. We’re making a decent old stew of this Shapeshifter business, aren’t we? I can’t stop burning, you punch one of the greatest Dragons in history unconscious, and I think Aranya’s going to boil us both in the caldera – oh, please … Jakani, she’s looking this way!

  The reigning Queen of Immadia was a Dragoness beautiful of form and scale and immense in power, at whose gaze the young Shapeshifters trembled. Their magical fires responded instinctively to her regard, as if cognizant of her heritage, dominion and high station – she was said to be kin to the Ancient Dragon Fra’anior himself, and in the immediacy of her presence, that link seemed unquestionable. Fires burned whiter. Nobler. Spines straightened and wings arched proudly. All that Tytiana saw as potentially Dragoness within her, she felt, seemed embellished and substantiated – and aye, she feared that gaze. She feared Aranya with a pure, holy awe.

  The Amethyst winged toward her and Jakani, the leisurely beats of her wings seeming to fill the sky, and behind her came Shalanya and her parents, and many other Dragons besides. She whisked the prone Shadow Dragon along behind her as if he weighed nothing at all. Yet the gleaming fire-orbs seemed fixed upon them, fearfully intent, and the Dragoness fluted in a tone that was as far from a killing rage as could be imagined:

  Little ones, do I know thee? This remarkable scent upon thy magic, o Dragoness – this power of thine paw, o Dragon …

  Jakani genuflected so deeply, his wings stalled and he had to rescue himself with an inelegant wriggle. Meekly, he said, O Star Dragoness, I am Jakani the Onyx-Gold, lately of Helyon. I humbly beg your forgiveness for my attack upon Ardan. He invited a blow of honour-restitution, and I just … sort of, well, obliged.

  Aranya’s eyes brightened. Indeed, little one?

  Uh, aye. I’m a very new Shapeshifter, o … um, o noble Queen, and I didn’t imagine I could even hurt him. I’ve a lamentably imprudent tongue and obviously, little to no grasp or control of my powers. Jakani lowered his head. I abase myself. And … enough of me. This is my beloved, Tytiana the Radiant, who –

  Aranya’s rich laughter pulled him up. The Radiant? I see ample reason for this descriptor, but this is indeed a Dragon colouration I have never before encountered. Tytiana the Radiant. Art thou of Chaos born?

  I … so staggered was she, Tytiana flared and then seethed all over Jakani, turning him into the crimson-gold double-flame Dragon they had been before. Sorry. I … just can’t … suffering spiders, nothing’s working right today. At all!

  Dragon, beware! Aranya snorted.

  As the gathering Dragons cried out in wonder, Jakani said quickly, Don’t worry, I don’t burn up. Look, I’m fine, o Queen.

  Clearly, her powers and Jakani’s were strange and wonderful, Tytiana thought dazedly, judging by the bemused and delighted reactions all around. Yet, to be named a daughter of Chaos put a framework around what had always puzzled them. She was something. Her affliction had a name. Maybe she was still a freak. But this Immadian Dragoness knew something vital about her nature, and she was no longer inimical. She was receptive. Curious. Even … smiling!

  Or was the flashing of those fangs prelude to her snapping Jakani in half for striking her husband with so grievous a blow?

  The Queen said, Am I allowed to guess why you came to Fra’anior, o Tytiana?

  Well, we brought Shalanya along, Jakani hedged.

  Trespassing upon a family wedding, Ardan growled weakly from behind Aranya. You fractured my jaw, youngling – so shall we now speak of the Great Onyx’s mighty paw replicated in your life?

  The Onyx-Gold shut his mouth with a snap.

  Tytiana said quietly, We came seeking a man called Na’axion, o Queen. Your nephew.

  I knew it! Ardan growled again, but he sounded less and less belligerent. Poor Jakani was still stiff and trembling, despite her soothing warmth percolating into his body.

  Lie still, my fiery love. We must finish treating your injury, Aranya scolded with great fondness. Come. Great happiness have you brought us in the form of our granddaughter released from her condition, o noble Jakani, and noble Tytiana, and I believe – I hope – that greater happiness yet awaits us when the contingent from Jeradia arrives in a couple of hours’ time. There will be Iridiana and Asturbar, Pip and Silver, Na’axion, and many more.

  Brighter and brighter burned her eyes. To them alone, Aranya said, Petal, my twin sister is a Chaos Shifter, and I believe your powers are akin to hers – perhaps for very good reason. Yet the nature of Chaos is notoriously difficult to discern. We shall understand more soon.

  Meaning to bow her head, Tytiana ended up bowing her fires instead. Thank you, o Star Dragoness.

  Aloud, addressing the draconic party gathered in the skies above Fra’anior Cluster, Aranya said, “We welcome Jakani the Onyx-Gold and Tytiana the Radiant to Fra’anior Cluster. I shall take them under my wing and jurisdiction until we discover more about their origins. I welcome too my granddaughter Shalanya – what a joy to have you join us, dear one!”

  With that, happy chatter filled the skies as the Dragons clearly took this statement for a signal that all was well. Shalan
ya, positively glowing her pinkest ever, flitted over to introduce her parents, Sarangatu the Grey and Imanya the Silver Dragoness to her companions. They enthusiastically thanked Jakani and – rather fleetingly – touched wingtips with him. Tytiana winced privately. Then Jakani spoke to Ardan, who cut off his apologies with a pained laugh, saying, “Got what I deserved, didn’t I? We shall be good friends, noble Jakani. Of that I am certain.”

  Strangeness. The wonder of a family she had never known she had. Her maybe-family. If she could just calm down and quench this fire enough to show them her normal Human person!

  Tytiana felt as if she were floating through the skies.

  * * * *

  En route to the Palace, Aranya explained a little of Fra’anior Cluster’s history to her curious audience. This was one of the few places in the Island-World where Dragonkind and Humankind had managed to coexist peacefully – for the most part – for over two thousand years, and lived in close proximity to each other, cooperating and helping each other in many ways. Indeed, the current King of Fra’anior, Ta’armion, was married to Aranya’s cousin, the Shapeshifter Dragoness Lyriela. He was a sprightly one hundred and twenty-seven years old. Jakani chortled at this. Aranya herself was one hundred and nineteen. She pointed out the Island of Ha’athior, across the caldera to the Southwest, where her mother had been born.

  When Jakani exclaimed at the pollens tickling his nostrils, the Star Dragoness explained that the Cluster’s weather conditions were predominantly tropical due to the year-round volcanic heat and excellent rainfall, which in turn supported an astonishing variety of plant life, flowering trees and bushes, and vibrant tropical birds. So many dragonets, too! Their scaly little bodies flitted into and out of the vegetation, which tumbled half a mile and more down the sides of these sheer cliffs. Such trees! Many boasted boughs that arched five hundred feet over the crater. Magical growth, Aranya teased, causing the botanist in Tytiana to start to ask a host of detailed questions that the Immadian could not answer.

  “You’ll have to visit the Library in the Halls of the Dragons,” she said. “They’d welcome a scientist like you there, Tytiana.”

  “If I don’t burn every book and scroll in sight,” she said wearily.

  Jakani’s neck twisted to look at her in startlement. “Sweet pea, are you –”

  Tytiana sighed, “The magic demands so much – and having to pull so deep to restart Ardan’s heart, it was like –”

  Fire slumped into his ready paw. A second later, her flame guttered and it was just Tytiana who lay there, unconscious.

  Aranya’s eyes grew huge. “Oh, my stars, it’s true!”

  He nodded soberly, covering her torso with his other paw. “Aye. She has healing powers.”

  “Aye? I sensed as much when she rescued Ardan – even so, there’s more,” Aranya gasped, and added with rising urgency, “I meant, her looks! I’ll show you when we reach the Palace. There’s a certain look we women in this family have, courtesy of our mixed Immadian and Ha’athiorian heritage … you’ll see. Come. Make haste. Follow me to the Receiving Balcony. I’ll help you with Tytiana.”

  Her looks were more important than her rescue of Ardan? Puzzling over what had to be a misunderstanding, Jakani followed the Queen and her prone passenger as they winged toward the Palace building which stood just a little apart from a town of wide boulevards, shady arbours and bursting tropical vegetation. Everywhere he looked there were sprays and clusters of blossoms, mounds and beds of flowers, and great flocks of butterflies that flitted about them, creating a living, pulsating kaleidoscope of colours. Even at this early hour, the day was warmer than he was used to, yet for his Dragon the sensation was more than pleasant. He could not quite believe the level of bustling and hubbub a royal wedding apparently commanded. White tents had been erected in the Palace’s formal gardens. A queue of carts already approached along the main road from town, and were being checked by purple-liveried soldiers before they were allowed to approach the Palace grounds. There were even two Blue Dragons supervising proceedings down there – checking for magical mischief, he supposed. Or poisons.

  Aranya guided him to a landing right on the Palace roof, where a pair of maidservants already awaited with a blanket and a litter for Tytiana. The Star Dragoness pointed him to a screen. “Males over there. Transform quickly and then accompany these servants to your chambers.”

  “We don’t … uh, share. Formally,” he admitted. Was now the moment to explain how many times they had slept beside each other, yet were not married in the Immadian fashion?

  Apparently ignoring that haphazard attempt to be honourable, she said, “Look after your girlfriend and have her rest. The contingent from Jeradia should arrive by midmorning. I’ll check in with you before we come disturb you in your chambers. You can ask the servants for whatever you need.”

  “Aye. Thank you, o Queen.”

  She inclined her Dragoness’ muzzle gracefully. “You’ll be most warmly welcome here, noble Jakani – as long as you don’t beat up my Ardan too often, that is.” He chuckled nervously, but the Amethyst Dragoness just gripped his shoulder with her paw and said, “I’ll also remind him to pick on Dragons more his own size in the future.”

  Then, the Queen left to make her own transformation, and Jakani to pinch himself and wonder if he wasn’t dreaming. Could this kind of place be home for such as he? A barefoot Dirt Picker from Helyon, born with burgundy volcanic soil between his toes, had just spoken with the Star Dragoness herself, cracked her husband’s jaw with a blow some said would be scribed in the scrolleaves of history, and yet lived to tell a tale of walking into the most famous Palace in the Island-World with his beauteous flame?

  Life could be stranger, he supposed. He just had no idea how.

  Chapter 31: Shiftier than Thou

  TYTIANA DREAMED THE dream which she had come to think of as her ‘Fra’anior dream.’ Yet this time, she was not running from him. Barely even flying. She rocked upon the gentlest of starry billows. Drifting among constellations that pulsated all around her as if she owned the very life’s blood of the Universe for her own being, Tytiana found herself approaching a creature beyond her wildest dreams, a Dragon formed of the very darkness itself, whose armoured battlements of endless coils and many heads seemed to weave among the beaded strings of stars, and whose almighty paws spun the fabric of the cosmos itself.

  Yet when the coils seethed and unwound to bring a mighty, mile-long head to bear upon her path, Tytiana did not expire for fear. Instead, the ineffable gaze seemed to stir her soul in recognition. Two immense fire-eyes filled her night sky, and a voice like the fluting of a world’s foundations said:

  I know thee, o Tytiana the Radiant. Know mine pleasure encompasses all thou art, o child of mine brightest fires, o Daughter of Chaos.

  I thank thee, o Fra’anior.

  We are one.

  We are one, she echoed.

  We shall speak much, anon. Then the Great Onyx threw back his many heads and laughed with a joy so ebullient, it shook the very fires of creation itself, and Tytiana found herself laughing, too, although she did not entirely understand why.

  On the wings of his breath, she accelerated into a place of pure starlight.

  * * * *

  “Here she comes.”

  “Dreaming.”

  “Something must be funny,” said Jakani’s voice, sounding concerned.

  “Surfacing.” That was the lilting Immadian voice, the one Tytiana knew. “Are you ready, sister?”

  “Is one ever ready for such an occasion, Aranya?”

  “Where is that errant son of yours?”

  “He had a hard trip. They’re bringing him downstairs as we speak. His magic’s in a bad place at the moment. I was hoping you could help him find a better balance.”

  Who was this? Strangely evocative, the accent, moving her soul in ways that frankly, alarmed her. Why could she not speak? Move? What had happened to make her feel so faint? Oh, there had been a clash between two Blac
k Dragons, the mite and the monster, and then a dream of one mightier by far …

  “Do you think?” Aranya whispered.

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Tytiana peeled open her eyelids. She had never felt so enervated in her life. Right before her, for she lay curled up on her left side, was Jakani. He sat a mere arm’s reach away, evidently trying not to squirm, in a fancy armchair that had been pulled right up to her bedside. His expression was all over the place – wild, serene, restless, agitated – but he definitely perked up at the flicker of her eyelids, and essayed a rather desperately nervous grin that said, ‘Islands’ greetings, beautiful. I’m here for you.’

  She made a tiny kissing motion with her lips. All she could manage.

  The corners of his mouth quirked upward. That, combined with his gorgeous eyes, was almost enough for a girl to swoon over. Almost.

  “So, petal.” A cool hand stroked her brow. Aranya’s, judging by the play of those birdlike vowels. “How are we feeling?”

  “Moderately awful?”

  “Here.”

  Strength and reassurance flooded into her from that touch. She realised Aranya was healing her, doing what she tried to do instinctively, but with surpassing skill. In a moment, she felt ready to sit up, and began to wriggle up before she realised there were more than two people in the room. Wink was cocooned in her hair, for starters, a small point of heat against her neck, and here was … a man-mountain, quite gobbling up the space to Jakani’s left hand with his gargantuan muscular bulk, but his smile above that was broad and not a little uncertain. To his left again stood a slender, statuesque beauty with – she blinked twice – blue skin and sable locks, and the most familiar, anxious smile, and here hovering over her bed a woman who could only be the blue girl’s twin sister, who gazed at her with dazzling amethyst eyes set off by high cheekbones that reminded her of nothing more than – a mirror image of …