Tytiana

by Marc Secchia

  Tytiana yelped, “Oh! Oh, my … oh …”

  She reeled as if she had been punched in the gut. What was this?

  “Exactly what I was just saying,” Jakani deadpanned, but his voice cracked spectacularly. “Tytiana, may I present Aranya, the Star Dragoness? And here beside me are Iridiana the Chaos Shifter, and her husband Asturbar, who is an Azingloriax warrior.”

  “Oh!” All she could do was raise the tiniest peep.

  Chaos. Daughter of Chaos! That was exactly how Fra’anior had just addressed her in her dream!

  Her eyes swung from Iridiana to Aranya and back again. Different as they all were, there were similarities far too obvious to ignore. Identical facial features and bone structures. Height, build and slenderness. Long, wavy hair of exactly the same consistency, style and length, but vastly different colouration. The magical glint in the eyes that watched her observing them. If these two women were not family, then she’d eat all the spiders in Helyon. Raw! She was scientist enough to know that she could spend hours cataloguing every aspect of these two women and come to exactly the same conclusion.

  What in the Island-World could prepare one to meet two strangers who look just like me? she wondered privately. Jakani, am I just imagining … this resemblance? Can this be true …

  Aye, beloved. This is real, and beautiful.

  He was crying! Had she ever known him to weep before?

  Tenderly, Aranya said, “Do you see something I see? Iridiana?”

  “Yes, and I just …” She coloured a rosy shade of her apparently natural blue as she squeezed her husband’s enormous arm. Huge tears welled and tracked down her cheeks. “Is this how you felt when you found me?”

  “Quite!”

  Tytiana spluttered, “But aren’t you … old? I mean – sorry! You’re both supposed to be a hundred and something or other, and look at you! We could be sisters. Triplets, if I weren’t being unconscionably bold – unholy caroli! Am I dreaming? Jakani?”

  “No, you’re quite awake,” he said, helpfully.

  Tytiana did not know whether to curse or laugh. Crazy!

  Iridiana said, “I’ve a few white hairs coming along, petal, but Aranya will tell you that Stars age differently to other Dragons.”

  “My aging process seems to have stalled,” the amethyst-eyed grandmother of many added, “unlike everyone else around me.” And in that statement was an echo of grief Tytiana wondered at. What would it be like to remain young when all around you grew old?

  Or to be pure fire, when all around her were normal Dragons?

  So, should she be calling Iridiana ‘grandmother’? That certainly seemed to be the lay of the silk when it came to Dragon powers! Although, Aranya’s incredible, kaleidoscopic hair could be regarded as somewhat Chaotic, she mused, shrinking back a little against the pillow as everyone seemed to be wondering the same thing – was a huge family hug in order?

  Are you my grandparents? she thought.

  We hope so, Iridiana and Asturbar chorused in response.

  Precious! Her eyes shone back. She knew. Softly, to Iridiana alone, she said, I dreamed of Fra’anior just now. He called me a Daughter of Chaos.

  The blue-skinned woman’s fist flew to her mouth, stifling a huge sob. Oh, Tytiana!

  In the exquisite silence that unfolded, they heard form down the corridor, a man’s deep voice saying, “Is this the way to my chambers?”

  “No, noble Dragon. The Queen of Immadia would like a word.”

  And a few moments later, right outside the door, “Thanks for your help, my good man. I’ll go face the music on my own. Huh. Are these a Queen’s chambers? Fra’anior has definitely changed.”

  Tytiana began to hide her face in her hands, mostly for fear of detonating into a fiery bomb, but halted when Iridiana stepped forward and seated herself right beside the plush pillow roll – protectively, she felt, startled. Grateful. Terrified!

  With the help of two canes, a man swung past the doorway in the chamber beyond her bedroom, before swivelling in patent surprise. “Mother! What a – Aunty Aranya! Quite the delegation. To what do I owe …”

  Then, he fumbled the cane in his right hand as he beheld her, abed. Mouth agape. Wheezing. A crackling like fire rose from his body as his magic sparked through his clothing in tiny, jagged white bolts, playing most especially around his joints and ligaments – almost like a magical variant of arthritis, Tytiana thought inanely. Na’axion’s face was a study in astonishment. He was tall and broad of frame, like a narrower version of his father. All the muscle upon him lay corded and powerful, yet was also slightly twisted and misshapen, as if something within him were seriously out of kilter, but she could see at once where the nickname ‘naughty Na’axion’ must have come from. He was almost frightfully handsome, all rugged planes in the jaw and brilliant blue eyes, gleaming like gemstones beneath his strong brow and whimsical eyebrows, and his crimson-gold hair was casually tossed back, yet looked as if a hairstylist had laboured over it for an hour to get that wave just right.

  Even as she watched, that rugged face fell in apparent devastation, and his head with it to the knob of the tall cane that remained in his left hand. When his shoulders shook, she knew that the man wept.

  He said brokenly, “Ahlyaza … had a daughter?”

  “Aye,” she replied.

  It was Jakani who nipped off his seat to fetch the man’s cane and help him into the bedroom, for it seemed Na’axion could not manage without help. He kept stealing tiny glances as if to assure himself that somehow, aye, this apparition lived and breathed and possessed titian hair just the same as his, and indeed, she was the very image of the two women who flanked her – again, that maternal, protective instinct coming to the fore, Tytiana thought. She needed their support. Terror held her pinned against the finely carved headboard as if a spear had thrust through her gut into the wood. What would he say? How would he react?

  Then, he burst out, “You were conceived of love! Think nothing else!”

  “For shame, Na’axion!” Iridiana snapped.

  Aranya’s brows lowered ominously. “Aye? So, you admit it? You knew about this girl – her name is Tytiana, by the way – and you never owned up to your misdeed?”

  He breathed, “Tytiana? You are the very image of Ahlyaza.”

  “And you,” she muttered. Doubt was no longer an option. All that remained was to understand what manner of man stood before her – ghastly, or good.

  The Star Dragoness gave him a perfectly stormy glare, and Iridiana too.

  Tytiana bit her lower lip.

  Leaning heavily on his canes, Na’axion growled, “My deed, not misdeed – well, it was a vile misdeed in one sense, Aunt Aranya. Mom, Dad … I loved a married woman, aye, and I truly believe she loved me in return, but she was bound to the High Master Juzzakarr in ways I frankly have never understood. Please. Please, please, family, for once hear me and – girl, Tytiana, I am truly sorry that you found out this way. I beg you to forgive me for what I did, and for never … look, I only found out two years ago that Juzzakarr had a redhead daughter, through a trader that came to the Academy in Jeradia. I’ll admit, I did wonder. But I also have always speculated if Juzzakarr did not make good on his promise to curse me, for he mistrusted the relationship between Ahlyaza and me, but never a proof did he find.”

  Asturbar said, “Son, was this woman, Tytiana’s mother, just another of your conquests?”

  “No.”

  “Excuse us if we doubt your word!” Aranya snorted.

  “Aunty Aranya, did it ever cross your mind to wonder – heavens weeping rainbows, I’m about to say this in front of my own daughter – why I never had any children in all those years? Despite all my gallivanting across the Isles?”

  Lifting her hand, Tytiana found Aranya’s fingers and squeezed gently, forestalling argument. She said, “Na’axion – or, father, if that is true – tell me of my mother. What was this relationship you refer to? And how … how did I come to be? A little extracurricular gall
ivanting, as you so civilly put it? With my married mother?”

  Suddenly, all the rage and the fire was back, and she choked out, “How dare you be so cursed flippant when this is my life, my past, that you ripped apart? How glibly you speak of love. What does that even mean to a villain like you? Just another four-letter word to lump together with the rest of your tavern-trash? Don’t you dare play this game with me, Na’axion. Don’t you dare!”

  A vein pulsed in her father’s temple as he stared at her. Although the chaotic magic crackled through him again, and was clearly agonising, he forced himself to push through.

  “I see that carrying a reputation is like wearing invisible manacles,” Na’axion said, with a tight, bitter smile. “No mind. It is well deserved. But you, at least, as my flesh and blood, have no right to judge me until you’ve heard my side of the story – so don’t you dare, daughter! This is no courtroom. This is life. I’m too wrecked a man to bother with lying anymore. And when I’m done you can decide to kick me out as I perhaps deserve, but until then, please do me the simple acknowledgement of a fair hearing.”

  She inclined her head, trying to still her shaking. “Speak.”

  Strength. I am with you, Jakani said softly in her mind. He did not otherwise move.

  Aranya and Iridiana likewise said nothing, though the temptation must have been enormous, but Asturbar put in, “On my honour I swear I will hear you fairly, son.”

  Tytiana reached out for Jakani’s hand. This was it.

  Gripping the canes, Na’axion said, “Thank you. I suppose my tale is at one level, one of a foolish, rebellious youth with too much power and a lack of wit or courage to use it well. My parents brought me up according to strong moral values that I chose, as early as possible, to throw back in their faces. I was not a pleasant youth. I was cruel and vain, yet inside, I was always afraid. I hated who I was and was petrified of what I might become. Moreover, I feared people finding out that I really was a fraud cursed with Chaos magic – and so I chose to reinvent myself.”

  “Early on, I discovered that my particular manifestation of Chaos magic changes over time. But with sufficient application of willpower, I can sometimes force the magic into preferred channels. That process carries a cost, I believe, that you see borne out in my body today. One could say I fell in with bad company, but in truth, it was bad company I sought out. I ran away from home at fifteen to become naughty Na’axion, or I’d say a more accurate descriptor would be nasty Na’axion. Mixing Herimor glamour magic with my Chaos skills, I made myself literally irresistible. I could make friends with stones, should I wish. But what I truly devoted myself to was the pastime of lifting the skirt of any and every woman I fancied upon the Isles. Desiring no consequences, I also made myself infertile.”

  “Perhaps I sought solace, or escape, or power. I don’t know anymore.” He sighed heavily. “All the while I was running away from myself. From my cowardice. The more I ran, the more I wanted – a rich living, the finest of everything, any woman I wished – yet none of it satisfied. I left a trail of brokenness behind me wherever I went. Take, take, take. That was my life. I deluded myself into believing I treated people well. I made my associates rich. I believed I was the greatest wooer and lover in the Island-World, making these poor women deliriously happy. All the while the demands on my magic became greater and greater, and the cost to my soul, dearer.”

  “It was not for want of love or intervention.” Na’axion’s eyes lifted, shining with tears. “You all tried – Mom, Dad … Aunty Aranya, even Ardan. You never gave up on me, and for that, I am more grateful than these poor words can express. But in my heart there was a depth of base lust, spawned of the fear that consumed my every waking minute, that could never be stanched or satiated. That was, until I met Ahlyaza. She changed me.”

  When Iridiana made a soft, dissenting noise, he said, “Aye, Mom. I ran away to the North because I was afraid of you. I could not bear what you, particularly, must think of me. Your love was like acid to my evil. I was not ready to receive it.”

  Tytiana found herself watching him not so much for the words that he spoke, but for the openness of the mind which spoke them. Was he deliberately opening himself to her? Or was this another facet of his magic – could it all be subterfuge? She did not sense it was so. His emotions were plain to her enhanced perception, but moreover, it was the lucidity of his thinking that convinced her that thus far, he was telling the truth and that the regret shadowing his words was genuine.

  She said, “What was different about Ahlyaza?”

  Na’axion nodded slowly. “Everything. I believe I had secretly come to despise womankind because of my depraved lifestyle. I held power over their weak emotions. It may surprise you all, but Ahylaza was the one woman I could never corrupt. She alone withstood all of my mutable magic, my power and unrelenting pursuit – and it was most certainly not for want of trying. The fact that she remained pure absolutely drove me off the cliff edge of sanity. I was mad for her. How old are you now, Tytiana?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “So, I met your mother twenty-four years ago now, or eight years before you were born. I had been caught, tortured and left for dead in the fenturi orchards by a vengeful husband. Ahlyaza treated my wounds – she saved my life. There was always something extraordinary about her healing touch. I opened up to her. It was she who recognised the damage I was doing to myself. We became friends. She openly told me she pitied me, loathed my lifestyle, and would have nothing to do with my so-called favours. I repaid her kindness by trying all my usual tricks – gaah! I was a ravening beast – but Ahlyaza … she was an amazing woman. I’m so sorry for your loss, Tytiana. But I truly believe her death must have been Juzzakarr’s doing. I never could stand that man.”

  In a small voice, Tytiana said, “You think Juzzakarr killed her? He died just a few days ago, by the way.”

  “How?”

  “Torn apart by Dragons.”

  Her father’s eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “Well! Without meaning to sound crass, I can’t say I’ll be mourning his passing. My grief is for your sisters, Tytiana, and for you – you knew him as father for most of your life, I assume?”

  “Aye.”

  “He used to beat your mother.”

  “I … could imagine.”

  “She never admitted it. Never spoke a bad word against her husband, but I saw the pain in her eyes, sometimes, and the way she moved … I plotted to murder him, many times, but I could not bring myself to commit such a heinous deed.”

  “No, all you had courage for was the violation and abuse of women – over and over and over again! You’re worse than slime!” Tytiana covered her face with her hands. “Unholy caroli. Sorry!”

  Na’axion hissed between his teeth. “No, it is I who am sorry.”

  “I hate you!”

  “No more than I hate myself.”

  At length, she managed to force out another question. “What changed, father? You say you are a changed man – apparently changed enough to be trusted with all those young lives there at the Academy! Or is that just another cover for Nasty Na’axion?”

  He swallowed hard. Tytiana despised herself for the attack, but she just could not believe … this was her father? This unthinking, unfeeling, immoral man?

  This was the hardest conversation of her life.

  Even more softly than before, he said, “Your mother challenged me to reform my ways. It took me seven years of prevarication. Our friendship grew deep in that time, and Juzzakarr’s suspicions swelled accordingly, even though we did nought but share our deepest feelings with each other – and I eventually forced myself to withdraw from her company for fear that my persistence would increase that man’s hatred of me, and he would take out his anger on her and his newborn daughter, Zihaeri. I took the step of consulting with Silver – the Pygmy Dragon’s mate.”

  “Silver?” Iridiana queried softly.

  “That explains very many things,” Aranya put in.

  Shal
anya had described Silver as possessing the most powerful and nuanced psyche in the known Island-World. She could imagine what such a ‘consultation’ must have meant!

  After shaking through another paroxysm of pain, Na’axion said, “Aye. I cannot describe the depths of my self-loathing at that time. Everything was tainted – I mean, I tainted everything. Even my one significant friendship in all the Island-World was spoiled by my craving for a fine woman I could never have; I knew that she was right, but I was beginning to hate her for her resistance. Love and hate seemed impossibly intertwined within me. For his part, Silver has unparalleled skills in the mental arts. Secretly, I approached him and asked him to cure me. Whatever it took. I gave him full access to my mind and magic. It took many tries and experiments, for my chaos magic is so changeable and wayward that I despaired of ever being healed, and my debased personality was even more so, but Silver succeeded in the end. I have now been celibate for – well, a little over sixteen years, to be precise.”

  At last, Tytiana felt able to raise her eyes and gaze directly at this man she must call father. So many of his memories were open to her; some of what she had touched nauseated and shocked her, but there was more – especially, much of this Silver, who had seen and treated Na’axion every couple of months for the better part of two decades, keeping his Chaos magic somehow … enchained without chains? She could not pretend to understand what Silver had done, for it came parcelled in so many subtle layers it was impossible to discern without months and perhaps years of study.

  She glanced at Jakani, who nodded encouragingly. So far, so much truth, I think, he communicated to her. He has been vile, but seems to be no longer. Can a Dragon change his scales?

  Aye. True. Thanks for confirming my response. Did she believe in redemption? Examining her feelings, Tytiana realised that she did not trust him. Not yet. What he had revealed was odious beyond words.

  Na’axion said, “It is hard to see so much of Ahlyaza in you, Tytiana. Forgive me if I stare. It brings back so many memories.”