Beautiful Fury

by Marc Secchia

Shan-Jarad hissed, “I will speak with my daughter.”

  The hall bristled with fear and indignation.

  Small and cramped together as they were, Ardan managed to stifle Yazina’s gasp as a man moved, from their perspective, out from behind a column supporting the roof. Chanbar!

  Aranya was shocked. How? How had Chanbar beaten them here, and what did this portend? Were Chameleons capable of flight? Even as he stepped forward, the man glanced about him as though, impossibly, he had sensed the Shadow Dragon breathing down his neck. Was it possible? There was no apparent draconic presence about him, but she knew better. She must believe. Watch. Be perfectly attuned to every nuance of his expression, his behaviour, his speech …

  Chanbar said smoothly, “Brother, it is against the law for you to even converse with this criminal, this –”

  “Silence, brother!” rasped the pallid ruler. He stumbled down the steps separating the throne area from the hall’s main floor. “Iridiana, my daughter, it has been far too long –”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Shan-Jarad flinched.

  “Father, I am here to demand from you the secret of who I am.”

  Chanbar’s whisper carried clearly to the concealed watchers, “Secret?”

  “Yes. You know – one of you two know – a whopping secret about my fundamental nature, and you have denied me that knowledge all of my life,” Iridiana said bravely, but she could not disguise a pleading note in her voice. “I will not speak it aloud for fear of the consequences, but you both know what I mean.”

  As the dragonets drifted them downward, no more substantial than feathers brushing against the wall, Chanbar replied, “You mean, the secret that your soul is blighted by the touch of infernal magic, you ghastly Chaos Beast in Human guise? The terrible secret for which you were exiled – wrongly, as it would appear? Guards, you know the law. Destroy this beast now!”

  Rings of soldiers pulled away from the columns nearest the throne, quickly surrounding the arguing parties in a wall of heavily armoured bodies – but they did not move between them. Perhaps they did not dare.

  Asturbar demanded, “Tell us the secret of Iridiana’s heritage, Shan-Jarad.”

  Chanbar’s left hand twitched, drawing back slightly. Flick.

  Fast as he was, Aranya moved faster, reaching out with her psychic power to guide Asturbar’s arm into the dart’s path. To deny what must be a deadly pinprick from doing its dastardly work. Metal clattered upon the floor. If a Chameleon he was, he must surely sense her interference and start drawing conclusions – and, he had just tried to murder Iridiana. Aranya clenched her jaw. She wanted to weep for Yazina’s sake; for the grief avalanching inexorably toward her young life.

  Their group landed soundlessly, a stone’s throw from the throne.

  “See?” Chanbar shrieked, clearly incensed at being denied. “Kill the beast. Now!”

  Still the soldiers hesitated, hands gripping the pommels of their curved swords as they awaited the Uxâtate’s word.

  Before the ruler could speak or respond, Iridiana sprang upon Chanbar in a roaring fury of chaotic mauve flame! Flinging up his hands to shield his face, Shan-Jarad sprawled aside, landing beside the highly polished crimson boots of his soldiers. Shields smashed down around him, protecting him from a rolling blast of heat.

  “Father! No!”

  Yazina broke free. Aranya’s hand blurred before she knew it, preventing Ardan from stopping her. A moment. Let it play out, Sha’aldior.

  “Yazina!” Asturbar’s jaw dangled.

  “Get off him. Get off!” wailed the teenager, racing between the soldiers as if they were not even present.

  Iridiana! Asturbar shouted. Iridiana, STOP!

  The flames appeared to hesitate before seething off the fallen ex-Marshal like a wave withdrawing from a terrace lake beach. Chanbar seemed unharmed, but acted unsettled nonetheless. Aranya blinked. Now Iridiana was back to a diamond bracelet clasped about Asturbar’s wrist? That girl!

  Asturbar spat, You’re not Chanbar, are you?

  Yazina stared at the man picking himself up off the floor; never more vulnerable, never braver. Aranya could almost read her thoughts. She asked, “Are you my father?”

  “Of course. Don’t be silly, child.” Chanbar brushed down his dark dress uniform. He had to be wondering where she had come from – unless he already knew? She touched Ardan’s paw, having no need to speak to convey her apprehension. Her danger sense was screaming a hundred shades of murder, and she had no idea why. Chameleons were not reputed to hold great power, but this one seemed different despite his innocuous guise.

  Raising her chin, the young teen said, “What was your pet name for me when I was three?”

  “Tollisweetness, after my favourite sweet berry wine, Tolliskutar,” said he.

  The Immadian’s hands clamped into painful fists as Chanbar glibly repeated the lie, but even so, what happened next surprised them all. Yazina swung to Marshal Asturbar, pressing her face against his chest. “That’s not him! That’s not my father – oh nooooo …”

  Chanbar gaped. “What? What nonsense is this, child? What’s going on? Somebody …”

  Any second now, the danger must erupt. Go. Help them, Shadow! Aranya snapped. One of them had to be close enough …

  WHOMP!!

  In his Dragon form, Ardan had a way of dominating spaces. It was the predatory tilt of his muzzle. The striated bulk of his muscled upper body, the lethal sleekness of his ebon scales, the fire blazing in his gaze as he brushed past the petrified soldiers as if they did not exist. His tread was soundless upon the polished ruby floor, an utterly mesmerising effect given his undeniable tonnage.

  Ardan growled, “That’s the same nonsense that we fed you before you left.” Chanbar’s eyes flew wide. Gleaming? Afraid, or triumphant? “What became of the real Chanbar, Chameleon? When did you dispose of him?”

  “How did you –”

  “Shadows hunt for men’s souls,” Ardan put in smoothly. “Yours displayed characteristics I had never encountered before. It was Aranya’s idea for me to try to pass through every person present aboard Yiisuriel-ap-Yuron after I was restored to my right mind, and I’ll admit to learning a trick or two from Thoralian as well. But despite every magical examination we could devise, your protections were inviolable for, given enough time, Chameleons become their target in every respect.”

  As he spoke, the Black Dragon moved up behind Asturbar and Iridiana, unsubtly placing his very considerable presence in their camp.

  Chanbar seemed to find this unaccountably amusing. “Is that so?”

  “You forgot only one detail. Memories do not transfer,” said Ardan, pulsing through their private link, Be ready for anything, Aranya. This one stinks, but not of fear. Steadily, buying time, he continued, “With Yazina’s help – she’s a very bright girl, you see – we fed you a false memory. And we were just about to entrap you when you disappeared, ostensibly to speak to allies. So we had to follow in a tearing hurry. My apologies, Nyahi, that we arrived so late. We were concerned, as you saw, that he might attempt an assassination, as he just did. Well then, Chameleon. Time to show yourself.”

  “That’s an interesting theory, but sadly, it’s all completely false,” Chanbar replied. His face flickered before reforming into a different likeness. This man had sandy hair and eyes of a very particular, piercing blue. Yazina bit her knuckles with a low moan.

  Zip muttered, Where have I seen that before –

  Chanbar raised his right hand in a peremptory gesture. Bones! Before anyone could think of moving, he snapped, Magic! The very sound of his voice immobilised Iridiana mid-transformation into her Human form.

  It took every ounce of Aranya’s resolution not to charge to their aid. She guessed his true identity, but now he had Ardan trapped, too. She must wait. There was no other recourse, for the Balance was not yet right. To act prematurely could prove fatal.

  Pacing back and forth, the man rapped, “Now, even your precious Land Dr
agoness out there cannot reach me. You see, I know everything there is to know about you. All of you. No, Shadow, you cannot transform either. Not without tearing your own bones out of your body, and that would be very awkward indeed. Rather terminal, in fact.”

  Exactly. Aranya rummaged through all the lore she knew, all her memories, powers and creativity with rising desperation. Mercy! Nothing would come …

  Turning to Yazina, not-Chanbar said with a callous show of indifference, “No, I am not your real father, child. Sorry. The real Chanbar was just an obstacle in the Chameleon’s path to the Uxâtaayn Kahilate, and later in mine, but I will have you know, Chanbar was not a pleasant man. He poisoned Shan-Jarad on his sixteenth birthday. He poisoned him to ensure that Shan-Jarad would become infertile – isn’t that so, brother-once-mine? And after the four sons you thought your own were born, that was when he chose to reveal that he loved Talrishana, and she loved him. Their affair continued for years after your marriage and ascension to the throne.”

  How the tale twisted despair into Aranya’s heart. Talrishana was Iridiana’s mother, who must have had an affair with Chanbar, which meant that none of the succession of this realm was as it seemed … and did this imply that all of Iridiana’s brothers were also Chameleons?

  Iridiana seemed to groan, despite not being able to move a muscle. Chanbar was that powerful; his command, absolute, as he continued to expound:

  “You are probably wondering when the Chameleon took Chanbar. It was on the third anniversary of your coronation. Your brother came to you to confess his love for Talrishana; in a blind rage you beat him unconscious, Shan-Jarad. The nurse – that was the Chameleon. The thing about a Chameleon is, as the Shadow Dragon noted, that they take on all characteristics of the host they have imbibed, given time. Duly the Chameleon, in his new guise of Chanbar, fell in love with Talrishana. She bore four sons by him. That is normal for Chameleons, because they are only capable of siring male heirs – which brings us to you, you filthy Chaos Beast!”

  He spat full into Iridiana’s face, and his chuckle was laden with malicious enjoyment Aranya could not guess at. Was she wrong in her guess as to his identity? Who –

  Chanbar jeered, “Do you want to know more about your precious heritage? I’ll tell you more! When Talrishana became pregnant with a girl child, the Chameleon knew he had been betrayed. It was either a miracle of conception by an infertile man, or she had another secret lover – but the truth was vastly more heinous still. He poisoned the foetus with a mythomaxorydial-based compound. Why would he do that, unless the child was destined to be … a Shapeshifter? Shan-Jarad, I’m sure you’d love to enlighten us at this point, but I’ll save you the trouble. Has anyone guessed yet who I am? No?”

  His laughter belled throughout the frozen air of the hall.

  The smashing power of the Shapeshifter’s transformation struck even Aranya to her knees. Only Ardan yet stood, and even he was staggered. “I AM AZHUKAZI!”

  The Necromancer Dragon!

  His monstrous muzzle dipped until his nostrils almost touched Iridiana’s slumped, half-complete body. “Know this. I am Azhukazi, and I am your father.”

  Chapter 20: Chaos and Starlight

  Had he imagined the truest face of horror, Ardan knew he would evermore picture Azhukazi’s expression as he took his pleasure in ruining a young woman’s life – and that of the man she had called father. He blenched at the devious, abhorrent manner in which the Necromancer delivered his revelations. He knew why Aranya blurted out the word, ‘mercy,’ for no other descriptor sufficed as response to the leisurely manner in which Azhukazi sniffed Iridiana’s body, the better to relish the scent of her fear-terror.

  He had a captive audience. He had them all ensnared by his bone-paralysing power, and all a Dragon could hope was that the Star Dragoness, who had yet to reveal her paw in this matter, might yet hold some power over this beast.

  Flicking spittle off his lips with the force of his vehemence, Azhukazi the Iolite Blue hissed, “The Chameleon and I had a little agreement. We exchanged oaths. I wanted an heir to receive my power; he wanted the throne. But he would not give Talrishana up. We quarrelled. So I took my chance. I was a younger Shapeshifter then, and I knew much less of the lore, but I knew no mere Human was a match for my mental powers. In my Human form I availed myself of Talrishana’s person and in due course, she became pregnant with my longed-for child. But the Chameleon was cunning! He was as shifty and shady as all of his kind! He discovered her pregnancy early on, but he also possessed the power to detect the gender of the child – and so, he conceived a vile plan to murder you, Iridiana. He would have succeeded, but for my intervention.”

  “Having saved your life in the womb, I watched over you all the years of your growing up. I watched, and I waited.” His right fore-talon slipped forth from its sheath to touch her throat with delicate, perverse care. “You see, if the iridium compound did not slay you, there was a good chance the poison had not reached the foetus at all. Shan-Jarad was a good father, however, and he worked very hard to ensure that his precious family, none of whom are his own children, would be safeguarded well beyond the reach of any potential enemies, including Iolite Blue Dragons. When my presence was discovered, he forbade me from ever entering the borders of Yazê-a-Kûz again. Imagine my shock and my distress, when I discovered my progeny had become a Shapeshifter exactly as I predicted – but not in the form of a Dragon!”

  Azhukazi paced away, almost out of Ardan’s sight as he fought to master his rampaging emotions. The Shadow wanted to shudder, but was incapable. That necromantic power paralysed him from within his bones. Almost he spoke to Aranya, before remembering the power of this Dragon’s mind. He had defied the Thoralians. Tricked them. Could his extraordinary perception discern the fact that the Shadow might even be thinking of speaking to another? Or infer the existence of their oath bond?

  Right beneath his chin, Asturbar conversed with Iridiana, unaware that they were not keeping their interaction private. The soldier said, Something rings untrue here, Nyahi, and I promise you, we will find out what it is.

  Boots, o Boots I could not bear it; I would die!

  Don’t! Just … breathe.

  Pausing his prowling, Azhukazi turned toward Iridiana, rasping in a ghastly whisper, “I knew I had been double-crossed. Somehow, the Chameleon had bested me, and tainted my shell daughter with the ultimate foulness of Chaos Magic! Null-fires, travesty, abomination – that’s what you are! The child was no longer mine. From that day on, I plotted against the Chameleon, who had disguised himself as Chanbar. I vowed I would become great. I would become the greatest Dragon in the Island-World – and aye, what of the Marshals Thoralian? I bested them! I seized their knowledge – and you, Marshal Asturbar – you were the only person in that chamber astute enough to deduce that I had been defeated too easily! For I had already used my powers to oust the Chameleon from his host and to take over in his stead, so it was a Chameleon Dragon that Thoralian murdered that day, and not me.”

  “And now, all that remains is to destroy a Chaos Beast, to bury the evidence of my righteous white fires doings, and to assume mastery over this realm. Then, I shall wait for the Star Dragoness, and with the new powers I now command courtesy of that unthinking triplicate of Thoralians, wrest from her what is rightfully mine. Where is she, Shadow? Where is Aranya hiding? Tell me, or I will end this abomination’s life – right now!”

  Ardan shuddered, almost missing the Iolite Blue’s double-ruse as his talon speared toward Iridiana’s back and the Marshal, unexpectedly released, threw his body between them. Unnh! moaned the man, taking a heavy blow for his girlfriend, yet the talon did not penetrate his gambeson.

  He called, Aranya, release –

  The Amethyst Dragoness somehow leaped through space to materialise directly in the path of an Azhukazi fireball. She marshalled the dragonets to her aid. Again, the fireball was just the veneer of the Necromancer’s true intent, for he concealed within that attack a vile payload of
his subtle bone-twisting power, yet this time Aranya was able to nullify his grasp before it took root. Her white fires flared, sheathing their marrow with the fire life of Fra’anior himself. Azhukazi backed away slightly, shaking his muzzle as he sized up his options. The Immadian’s resistance clearly bemused him.

  Aranya swept a paw elegantly to compass the chamber, while her Word of Command struck with vital power: BE FREE!

  Free at last!

  With a belligerent roar, Ardan joined his Dragoness in pounding Azhukazi with force that rocked the great building like an earthquake, only to face the backlash from the Necromancer’s cunning absorbent-reflective shield construct. Ardan bit multiple holes in his tongue as his own power rebuffed him soundly, but Aranya seemed to shrug aside the attack and countered with a volley of her blue-white fireballs that, striking in ultra-rapid succession, blew through his shield and quarried gouges of cauterised flesh across the Necromancer’s muzzle!

  Over to his left flank, Asturbar seized Uxâtate Shan-Jarad by the scruff of his thick ceremonial robes and shook the man like a cane rat, shouting into his face. Still, he was quick enough to respond to Azhukazi’s bullying charge by spinning with extraordinary grace for such a boulder of a man, yanking the ruler away from a sweeping talon stroke by a rajal’s whisker while using the centrifugal force to spin his almighty battle-axe into a blow that almost severed one of the Iolite Blue’s talons. Ardan was not so overcome with admiration at his battle craft to miss his chance to pinch a leaf out of Asturbar’s scroll. He shoulder-charged the Iolite Blue from a standing start, causing Azhukazi to fumble his intended attack. The crimson-robed, gold-armoured soldiers scattered before the rampaging Dragons like windswept leaves, leaving Asturbar to handle their ruler with worthy disdain.

  Ardan could not help but feel the man deserved a few hearty Dragon slaps!

  * * * *

  With Ardan venting his spleen on Azhukazi, Aranya rapidly cast about to check the situation of their allies. Yazina was fine, crouching near a column with her daggers drawn. Her face was wan, yet fearfully determined. Asturbar had Shan-Jarad in hand, literally, half-strangling the ruler by his robes. The dragonets circled her head, unharmed. And Nyahi?