Identity Revealed: The Tue-Rah Chronicles

by Butler, J. M.

  As the water in the river rushed and gurgled, Naatos searched for some sign of his brother. More than likely AaQar would be in a fish form, but there were no fish visible at all. He couldn't even see what rested a few feet below the surface.

  Suddenly, a large silver gar leaped up, spraying cold water everywhere. More than eight feet in length, the fish sliced through the air and toward the white pebble-speckled bank. But before it struck the ground, it transformed into a man. AaQar.

  "Well, AaQar," Naatos said. He wiped the water from his face and folded his arms. "You're finally back. I wasn't sure whether to keep waiting or spread a net for you farther upriver."

  "Either way, one of us would have been annoyed." AaQar wrung the water from his long white hair and flung it over his shoulder. "At least your patience won out."

  "It usually does," Naatos said.

  "Usually." AaQar's attention shifted to the troops as he surveyed their weapons and forms. None of the soldiers responded at the sight of AaQar's transformation. They had grown used to the sight of such alterations, as well as the unexpected manner of their arrivals. "Everything is ready here then?" AaQar asked.

  "We're only waiting on WroOth now. And so long as the rest of our forces are in position and ready to complete their tasks when signaled, we will succeed." Naatos turned to walk back up the hill, tilting his head back to search the sky for WroOth. It wasn't uncommon for him to be slightly late, particularly on the final scan.

  A little extra time wouldn't cost them anything, so it did not bother Naatos. This point in the Shenam Valley offered both seclusion and access. It was an easy march to Libysha's capital city, Telhetum, but it was also remote enough that no one came this way. Even more importantly, the natural spires of the mountains and cliffs offered numerous blind spots from the city's various watch towers for quite a ways should any of their watchers be unusually sharp-eyed and especially vigilant.

  The sun had turned the clouds a deep orange and gold near the mountains, but most of the sky remained unclouded, a deep but brilliant blue. Several bright-colored song birds darted in the sky, and a black-crested hawk dove at a rabbit near the pass. None of these were WroOth. He rarely enjoyed such smaller shapes so much as the raptor and mythic forms.

  AaQar followed him to the top of the hill, much slower and stiffer. "What form did our brother take when he left?"

  "A Timirian eagle. But I doubt he'll return that way. Once he's past that spire, he'll probably change again. You know how he is." Naatos shaded his eyes to better see past the mountaintops and beyond the pass, focusing on the farther points. "He'll be back soon enough. Tell me the troop placement now."

  "Everyone is in position. I shifted the fourteenth regiment to the south by three miles, and I divided the seventeenth into two smaller troops. No one can enter Libysha now. I confirmed that all the sentry posts were dealt with, so we'll have at least four days starting now before any of Libysha's allies realize what's going on."

  AaQar opened the single chest that sat on top of the hill with them. This chest had held the Paras' ceremonial garments for hundreds of years. And though the many years had left the once-glistening emblem a dull red and the golden wood pitted and stained, the garments within were in almost perfect condition. The faint scent of rose blossoms rose in the air as AaQar removed his elaborate breastplate that was to sit over his light tunic.

  Naatos remained silent, studying his brother. The black of the breastplate was far too dark for AaQar, but these days even the silver-blue robes he typically wore appeared too strong. He couldn't understand why his brother refused to heal himself fully, or at least tinge his eyes and tongue to suggest albinism rather than the shame of this current form.

  AaQar slipped the breastplate on, then tightened the leather straps at the shoulders and the sides. He had shrunk somewhat since the last time he had worn it. Naatos's gut tightened. As if he needed more proof that AaQar was slowly wasting away. "You should return to your natural appearance, brother," he said at last.

  "This is my natural appearance now." AaQar gave Naatos a hint of a smile. "Matters have not yet been settled. Until they are, I will not alter my state unless I change my form entirely."

  AaQar had transformed his resting appearance even before their last attempt to take over the Tue-Rah many years ago, but it still bothered Naatos. It wasn't the appearance, it was what it signified that troubled him. The total whiteness covered AaQar's body except for his pupils. Even his tongue and the inside of his mouth were white.

  "You mean until she is dead, I assume," Naatos said.

  AaQar fastened his thick belt and then fixed one of the links that had slipped free. He turned his gaze toward the troops once more. "All looks to be in order. Everything is prepared for the execution as well?"

  "Yes." Naatos folded his arms. The mercenaries remained at attention. Sweat shone on some of their faces though the heat of the day had passed some time ago.

  A brisk wind rushed down from the mountains and into the valley. It carried with it a musky, rotten scent like reptile scales and sweat, overpowering the valley's faint floral fragrance.

  "Doesn't smell like WroOth is an eagle anymore." AaQar flicked a stray white hair off his sleeve before peering into the sky.

  Naatos shook his head, but he allowed a faint smile to remain curled at the edges of his mouth.

  A shadow melded with the gentle slope of the lower valley. Despite all their training and the seriousness of their plans, WroOth maintained his love for a dramatic entrance.

  The troops looked up, their eyes widening, to Naatos’s amusement. Even though they had seen numerous shapeshifted forms, the dragon forms always unnerved the most, mainly because WroOth demonstrated almost as much regard for the troops as a real dragon would. More than a few had met unpleasant ends because they had gotten in his way.

  Already the mercenaries pressed back, creating a broad berth of space. WroOth soared over, banked down, and then dropped abruptly. His broad red wings spread out like spear-tipped sails. Then, with impressive precision, he landed on the hill, his body so large that his tail swept the edge of the river. His head was mere inches from Naatos.

  Naatos did not move. "Well?"

  "It's precisely as we predicted. The palace's base forces are all that remain. No hidden troops. The king is honoring his father's vows in full. And the majority of the Ayamin will be on training maneuvers. No one suspects any danger of any kind."

  "Simple enough," AaQar said. He lowered his voice. "Even if this group fails us, you two could succeed on your own."

  Naatos lifted an eyebrow. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

  AaQar picked up his staff, turning it in his hands. The slim wire whip at the end of the crooked head unwound with the motion. "We'll be conducting this conquest simply. So…" He gave WroOth a knowing look. "The dragons must wait until actual combat breaks out. At least once we move out from here."

  "Agreed." Naatos motioned toward the chest. "WroOth, your ceremonial garb is in there. Your club is beside it, if you choose to use it. If not, don't bring it. I don't want to waste time looking for it later. When you're finished, we'll deal with the Salvation of the Third Nalenth and execute the Machat."

  Smoke curled from WroOth's crimson jaws. He closed his eyes and then returned to his state of rest, his natural appearance. Despite being the youngest of the three brothers, he was the tallest. He shook his head and stretched his neck, popping the bones and joints into place. "I checked on Inale again. Didn't let her see me this time. But before we make any demonstrations of power, we should remove her."

  "It will be quite late. She'll be sleeping," Naatos said.

  "Really?" WroOth chuckled, though his tone was almost sad. "She's left to her own devices for the most part. They put her in her room after her dinner, if she isn't already there, and she goes to sleep when she's tired. When I passed over last, she was up in a tree outside her balcony. Nothing about that child strikes me as one who goes to bed when the moon comes o
ut. Besides, she never really slept before she came here."

  "Given your visit in the labyrinth and all that has happened, she should be quite tired by nightfall," Naatos said. It made him uncomfortable to interact with Inale, even from a distance.

  "Even so," WroOth said, "the whole point of this is to keep her from fearing us. And given what she'll become and what has happened, I'd rather be cautious rather than reckless. Particularly since we're destroying the mysterious boxes of doom. I don't want to scare her."

  "Very well. Pass over the palace to ensure she is inside. Signal if she isn't. Then, wherever she is, take her someplace safe. I will see to the king and queen."

  "Good." WroOth cracked his shoulder back into the socket. "It's best if she doesn't see you. You tend to scare children. Even when you don't intend to."

  "So long as she does as she is told, there will be no need for her to be frightened. But understand, she will not delay us," Naatos said. Of all the matters that needed to go smoothly, this was perhaps the most important.

  With WroOth handling it though, he was confident Inale would not be afraid. WroOth had always had a soft spot for children, at least children he liked or who reminded him of his own. For Naatos, children not related to him were more challenging, and he had particular reason to avoid Inale. Not all vows or traditions could be honored, but there were some which were simply prudent to follow.

  As his brothers finished putting on their ceremonial attire, Naatos walked to the other side of the ruins. He picked up one of the crumbling mortars and crushed it. The fine particles trickled through his fingers, and the wind carried them away.

  Another man might have felt sympathy for the Machat who once lived in this place, or for the Machat who now lived scattered throughout the worlds. Naatos did not. The Machat had gotten what they deserved for opposing Naatos and his brothers and for failing so many times to protect and guide the worlds. How ironic that they were gifted with prophecy and foresight and other similar abilities. Their skills had been waning. Otherwise they would have seen the inevitability of Naatos and his brothers' success.

  Indeed, they should have seen so much more. It was one of many reasons Naatos doubted Elonumato's wisdom.

  Naatos crossed over to the pile of the strange mahogany boxes in the center of the dais. The torches were now lit, though their light was dim. On the nearest stake was the young Machat. The boy couldn't have been more than fourteen, scrawny even for his kind. His light-brown hair hung in his face, partially obscuring the bruises and blood. He stared at the ground, his breaths ragged as if he struggled to keep from crying.

  "Are you ready to die, boy?" Naatos asked.

  "No." The boy at last looked up. The swelling had intensified around the left side of his mouth, but he spoke clearly enough for Naatos to understand him. "But Elonumato will receive me."

  "So long as he hasn't forgotten you," Naatos said. The Machat's response did not surprise him. Of all the races, the Machat tended to be the most spiritual, and expressing doubt in Elonumato was one of the worst things a Machat could do. After all, what good was it to be a prophet to a god one did not trust?

  Naatos kept his gaze fixed on the boy, staring him in the eye until the boy at last turned his head. "I would not be surprised if he had forgotten you. He's certainly forgotten about Inale. You know that, don't you? Because after tonight, I will see to it that she grows up to fulfill a very different destiny than the one your kind envisioned."

  Hearing approaching footsteps, he glanced back to see WroOth and AaQar. "WroOth," Naatos said. "This is one of your subjects. Do you have any final words or commands for him?"

  All of the usual joviality and light had vanished from WroOth's blue eyes as he looked at the Machat boy.

  The boy swallowed, his jaw quivering. "I don't fear you, Paras," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm not afraid to die. Elonumato will receive my soul…Elonumato will receive my soul." He dropped his head as he repeated the phrase, clinging to it as if some final bit of strength could be wrung out.

  "Let us hope that he offers greater fulfillment of his promises in the life beyond this than he has here." WroOth turned his gaze from the Machat with an expression of contempt. "Continue with the execution, Naatos."

  "I have one more thing to say." Apparently the boy had found some courage because his voice no longer shook. "You don't have to do this or continue on this path. Your destruction isn't yet sealed. But, Naatos, if you destroy the Salvation of the Third Nalenth, you will pierce your own heart and the hearts of your brothers. You'll all three mourn this day, and you'll never forget my words."

  Naatos laughed. "Really? We won't forget what you said?" He shook his head scornfully. "We don't even know your name." He grabbed the Machat boy's neck, lifting and pulling him back so that the boy's arms strained and his back arched.

  "Attention," WroOth shouted. "Prepare for the execution."

  At this command, the soldiers turned in unison to face the dais, their boots striking the ground, driving up a pale cloud of dust.

  Naatos waited until the dust was carried away by the western wind. "You are all here as witnesses, witnesses to the official start of our conquest of the Tue-Rahs and the Central Worlds. We are the Paras and the Vawtrian World Tamers of ancient Ecekom. The Machat prophesied against us. They stood against us at the Tue-Rah's fall three hundred and seventy-two years ago. And in their prophecy, they claimed that Elonumato would bring into being three Nalenths who would be required to restore the Tue-Rahs. And to the Third Nalenth, he gave an added charge.

  "The Third Nalenth is charged with our destruction. So, after they imprisoned us to wait for judgment that never came, the Machat worked to create the weapons you see before you. Weapons they described as healing instruments. The so-called Salvation of the Third Nalenth." Naatos continued to press the boy's neck back, tightening his grip. "This Machat and his brethren have defied us at every turn despite countless warnings and offers for clemency. But today they have failed, totally and completely. Their prophecies will burn like the Salvation of the Third Nalenth."

  WroOth and AaQar took the torches from the sides of the large mound of boxes and set fire to them. The dried lacquered wood took the flames quickly. Crackling, popping, and hissing, the fire spread, engulfing them.

  Naatos turned the boy's head so he could see. "Watch your hope die, prophet," he said. "No one will remember you or your words, and we will never mourn your death." With that, he jerked the boy's head back with a sickening crack. Then, tearing the body free from the ropes, Naatos hurled him into the flames.

  "So it is with all who oppose us," Naatos said, turning to the army.

  The soldiers remained focused on Naatos, their gaze just as eager as before. "You have chosen to fight for us, and you will be rewarded far beyond your imaginings and even your abilities. These first battles will be nothing compared to the glories and challenges you will later receive and face. What awaits you is more than you could have ever hoped to realize in all your meager lives combined. Tonight's victory will be the first of many. Stay loyal to us, and you will be rewarded. Defy us and die."

  The flames rose, the smoke spiraling into the sky. Sparks cracked and sprang into the air. Naatos then nodded to his brothers.

  Simultaneously, the three transformed into dragon. They shot into the sky, WroOth as a crimson fire dragon with a long lashing tail, AaQar as a silver-blue sea dragon with fins and spines along his serpentine back, and Naatos as an emerald storm drake with thunderous wings. Soaring into the darkening sky, Naatos wheeled about. The three then hurled fireballs at the burning pyre below.

  The fireballs seared through the air, exploding on contact and sending out a great wave of heat. The warriors broke formation and leaped back. Even in trying to expect the unexpected, they had not been prepared for this finale.

  Naatos smiled. He turned his gaze to the city, flapping his great wings. The fading light glistened on the opalescent palace walls. No help would come for Telhetum or the Third Nalen
th. All was prepared. All would be as it should be.

  4

  The Sleeping Palace

  The orange and gold sunset had finally faded into the deep indigos and violets of night. Soft breezes laced with sweet heather, pale roses, and fen blossoms swept into Inale's room. Peaceful soothing scents, gentle croons, and bird calls all urged Inale to sleep. But she couldn't.

  She tossed and turned in her bed, rumpling the yellow comforter and knocking the pillows on the floor. At last, she rolled to her side, staring out the open balcony windows. The heavy curtains were parted at the center, allowing the air and pale moonlight to stream in. Sighing, Inale drew the light woven blankets to her chin and wished for sleep. Perhaps in the morning her new friend would come. She smiled.

  If anyone had asked her if something new had happened, it might have been hard to keep the secret. But no one had asked, so she hadn't told. That was one good thing about being mostly alone.

  Something flew over the palace, a large creature with broad wings. Its shadow rushed over her bed and vanished. Startled, Inale sat up, her skin prickling. "WroOth?"

  She shoved the blankets back and hurried to the balcony. The cool night air enveloped her. Craning her head back, she peered up, trying to see over the palace. No sign of the eagle or any other winged creature remained.

  "WroOth?" she called again, a little disappointed. It was probably too early, but she wished it was him. He could tell her a story.

  A bear roared from the stables. Inale turned, seeking the slab-roofed building where the bears and other beasts of burden were kept. The bruins rarely bellowed like that. When night came, they often settled in faster than the horses. Other snorts and growls sounded from the stable, followed by horses whinnying and mawnores thumping. But then, one by one, they fell silent.