Chaos Shifter

by Marc Secchia

  The Dragoness said, “I’ll bring you close, then. I have detected that the entrance to the bay is deep enough for me to pass beneath, and the bay is deeper still, so I could easily pass by without disturbing their little spider’s web of foolish and ineffectual protections. Or, I’ll just rip those Islands apart.”

  “Leandrial, we are trying not to assault a nation.”

  “I predict this will proceed poorly.”

  Iridiana said, “Me too.”

  Asturbar groaned, but then grinned. “Yes, I know diplomacy is likely to be useless given what you’ve related about their power structures, and especially the influence of High Commander Taruton. But I’m a polite sort of soldier. I –”

  Squeezing his trapezius muscles, his girl cooed, “You like to greet your enemies before politely tapping them on the head with your battle-axe?”

  “Yes!”

  Predictably, the Commander of the Outer Defences, Hanyobon, who happened to be Taruton’s identical twin, was less than amenable to any suggestions bar that Asturbar and company turning tail and departing Yazê-a-Kûz forthwith, or there would be dire consequences. Leandrial begged to intimidate them at this point; Asturbar pointed out that addressing the ashen-faced soldiers from atop a Land Dragoness who could swallow half a decent-sized city in one bite was intimidation aplenty. Then, Asturbar politely inquired as to an audience with Uxâtate Shan-Jarad. The High Commander lost his rag and his soldiers roared with laughter. The Marshal delicately noted he would enjoy that audience whether the High Commander liked it or not, and their very pretty white city set upon seven Islands with its central citadel of unblemished ruby magnificence would most certainly upon his word remain unmolested whilst he did so. Hanyobon brandished both of his scimitars and told Asturbar to go toss himself in the Cloudlands. Asturbar put it to Hanyoban that the most excellent Uxâtate ought to be informed of the return of his precious daughter, Iridiana, from seven years of exile. The purple-faced Commander called her a few words Asturbar had never even heard in a lifetime of soldiering, and added a few tactful compliments regarding the Marshal of the Mistral Fires to boot.

  Marvellous attitude. How dearly he wished to rearrange the man’s moustachioed smirk with the business end of his axe. No mind.

  “That would mean no, I take it?” he murmured aside to Nyahi.

  Her fingernails dug into his skin. “You think?”

  A glance over his shoulder at her white-lipped fury decided him. “Leandrial. Forward.”

  “Underneath, please,” Iridiana whispered. He began to speak, and Leandrial to protest, but she said, “I will not … I will never … be like them. I will not stoop to casual destruction. Dragoness I may be, but I wish to fight a noble fight – if it is at all within my power, I suppose. Do you understand, Boots?”

  “I do.”

  As the Land Dragoness submerged, the huff of her breath shook those linked Dragonships like leaves in a gale. Every alarm in Sanzukê blared, clanged and crashed at once. A hail of weaponry descended upon Leandrial’s head, but she disdainfully strengthened her shield and knocked it all aside. Asturbar and Iridiana slipped back down into her mouth under cover of the Cloudlands, and they passed beneath the defences.

  Asturbar could imagine that had they not travelled beneath the Cloudlands, the Uxâtate of Sanzukê would have been warned much earlier. They were unprepared for this vector of assault, for even Lesser Dragons would not venture beneath the toxic cloud layer in order to make an attack. Leandrial drove forward powerfully, surging into the most beautiful bay he had seen. It was eight miles wide and eleven deep, a perfect pool of turquoise Cloudlands backed by soaring, ferny cliffs of black granite and light green quartz that were streaked by the glorious plumes of many waterfalls originating in the permanent glaciers far, far above. Several torrents had unbroken drops of over six miles, meaning that the water turned to spray long before it struck the rocks or vanished into the Cloudlands far below. The white city glowed like a jewel within this panorama, like a maiden all dressed in white except for its towering ruby citadel with its delicate, whimsical oval towers flanked by seven further floating Islands, whereon stood further ruby and white fortresses – clearly the primary defences.

  “Your city is breathtaking,” he told Iridiana, expecting to be thanked for a heartfelt compliment.

  “Boots, how can I ever be strong enough?”

  “I’ll help you,” he said. “Stronger together. Always.”

  “I’m scared.”

  So much for the city; for her homecoming. Holding her trembling body tightly to himself, he murmured into her hair, “You have every right to be afraid. Yet, you also have every right to learn the truth. They cannot keep that hidden from you. Are you frightened of what you might learn?”

  “Yes. And the confrontation – I’m not so good at confrontation. I learned to hide, you see.” When he made an encouraging noise, she added, “I told myself that I could not hurt anyone else, or be hurt, if I just hid myself away forever. I was terrified of what I was, as you know. I’m sorry, Boots, but seven years of … of curling inward, is hard to just put away. And I know what you’ll say. If I just let out my Dragoness – but I’m afraid of her too, don’t you see? She’s so powerful. So different, and capricious. What if I kill my own father? What if I’m forced to make that choice?”

  Asturbar said, “I’m far from any kind of expert on Shapeshifters, but I’ll say this, Nyahi. No matter how different she might seem, your Dragoness is you. Yes, she is wild and fierce, chaotic and beautiful, but she is also good, because you are good.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Tell her, Leandrial.”

  “Your mate speaks white-fires truth. You are intertwined aspects of but one soul. Speak to her. You will understand.”

  Iridiana breathed, “You can … I can do that?”

  “Aranya does,” said Leandrial. “I’ll tell you something else, little one – and you must impress this upon your soul. Asturbar is right. Your Dragoness is a creature birthed of the magic of living flame. It burns in her arteries and ignites her hearts. Even her thoughts are shaped by fire! That Dragoness is powerful, and she will fight for you. She cannot do otherwise!”

  She still shook, but the girl bit her lip and squared her shoulders, gazing intently at Asturbar all the while. “Thank you, Leandrial. Thank you, Asturbar. I think I’m ready now.”

  “I will place you two upon the portals of that tall, thin citadel. Say the word, and the paw of my wrath shall ravage this nation for you, Iridiana and Asturbar. That is the power that you command. Use it wisely.”

  “Oh, Leandrial,” Iridiana breathed.

  Asturbar knelt and placed his hands upon her tongue. “We fire-love you, Leandrial.”

  The bellow of her joy shook the very foundations of Yazê-a-Kûz, striking fear into the heart of the nation.

  Iridiana took Asturbar’s hand. “Now I know I’m ready.”

  Chapter 29: Shifting Islands

  Using her tail to aid her balance, Leandrial ‘walked’ her forepaws up the side of Uxâtate Shan-Jarad’s citadel Island until she stood upright, her hind paws braced against the floor of the world and her forepaw rising above the rippling Cloudlands. Arm in arm, the Marshal of the Mistral Fires and the Iridium Dragoness, in her Human manifestation, strolled off the underside of Leandrial’s upturned fore-talon and hopped down onto the ruby portico, usually used by Dragonships for landing. Neat. Peculiar, too. Since when did this soldier start enjoying a grand entrance?

  Ahead of them lay the oval battlements of the outer citadel wall, which stood some thirty-five feet tall, with a reinforced metal gate eighteen feet high by twenty feet wide fronted by a wide area paved in ruby-encrusted bricks. The bulky walls were so thickly coated in rubies, no sign of the original rock work remained. Clearly, a faultless state of upkeep was required. Everything was worryingly perfect, he decided. The soaring citadel, located behind a second curtain wall, was the same – all delicate, fluted lines picked out in
different shades of rubies, from pink to blood-red. Soldiers lined the pristine battlements at exacting intervals.

  Somebody fancied gemstones.

  Asturbar’s attention, however, was drawn to the phalanx of armoured warriors standing between them and the gate. They wore ring mail and held tall, oval shields at ease before them. Razukine scimitars hung from their broad weapons girdles, which provided additional protection for the lower torso. Flanking them were two groups of Syambant Beetles each carrying five mounted soldiers apiece. The beetles were intelligent enough to respond to simple commands, could run faster than any man, and carried a decent weight of keratin armour over which plate metal had been hammered and riveted, turning them into nasty battle machines – most especially the quartet of six foot-long, serrated mandibles at the front end. Those appeared more than capable of a dint of rapid carvery. The plumes of the soldiers’ helmets were crimson Asktaku feathers, and every inch of that armour looked to have been polished with unreasonable zeal. These were the Elite Guard of Yazê-a-Kûz, the best warriors of their nation.

  Front and centre of the battle group, standing legs akimbo in all his arrogant pomp, was none other than High Commander Taruton, whom Asturbar knew from past experience – he was as much instantly identifiable by his flamboyant moustaches as by his ceremonial golden armour. The man was a vastly ambitious, uncompromising veteran. Others might call him less salubrious words, such as The Exterminator, for his reputation gained early in his career of murdering civilians to underscore an obscure point of honour.

  Clearing his throat, Asturbar called, “Marshal Asturbar and Uxâtati-a-Tân Iridiana will see Uxâtate Shan-Jarad, now. Kindly stand down your squadron, High Commander Taruton.”

  Taruton paused long enough for the insult to be unambiguous, before calling, “That will not be possible.” You fools, his tone added.

  Asturbar said mildly, “I was not making a request.”

  “Asturbar. I barely remember you – do I recall the undistinguished service of a hot-headed youngster? Tell me, how did you come to steal the House of the Mistral Fires from Chanbar?” He waited the man out, until he continued, “Regrettably, Uxâtate Shan-Jarad does not have a daughter. I don’t know what manner of despicable beast you’ve summoned up the gall to bring here, but I suggest you take it away, slay it and scatter its entrails around the Islands for the dragonets to sup upon.”

  Nyahi stiffened beside him as Asturbar called, “Are those Shan-Jarad’s words, or yours?”

  “Why would I even tell him you’re here?”

  Asturbar feigned boot-tapping impatience. “Sounds like you’re overreaching your duties again, Taruton. I suggest you scurry off like a good little soldier and inform your Uxâtate that his daughter is present. Otherwise, I plan to be speaking to him within two minutes, give or take how long you plan to try to resist our entry.”

  Ooh, nice speech, Iridiana breathed in his mind.

  “Guards!” snapped the man.

  With impressive timing, two hundred swords whipped upright and the shields clattered lightly as they interlocked across the front of that force. The battlements bristled with crossbows and other assorted ranged weaponry Asturbar did not recognise.

  Still planning to fly in? Iridiana asked.

  No. I’d like to teach that bloated ragion a lesson. It’s a touch selfish, I’ll admit …

  Ooh, the classic infantry charge? You’re still a bad man, Boots, but I like this kind of bad. Her eyes were smiling daggers at Taruton, however. It’d be sweet of you to remember to bring my clothing along. I’d prefer not to add embarrassment to injury when you meet my father for the first time.

  Oh, I think he’ll hear us coming.

  She squeezed his arm. Big Boots make loud noises, eh? Ready when you are, beloved.

  The High Commander shouted, “Last chance. Take the filth away!”

  “Well, he said it. Last chance,” Asturbar murmured, feeling virtuously agreeable. “I was polite, wasn’t I? Armour configuration please, Nyahi.”

  A mauve dragonet bounced off his arm.

  “Drat,” she squeaked.

  Reaching out, he caught her dress and underclothes before they fell to the ground. Even Aranya did not understand how Nyahi managed to transform without wrecking her clothing.

  Whoosh! Suddenly, the Azingloriax warrior was eighty stone heavier. His gambeson compressed about his body in oh-so-familiar ways as, with a final shiver, his outer iridium-special plate armour conformed seamlessly to his limbs. He palmed his battle-axe and rolled his shoulders. “Ready?”

  “Never more ready. Let’s show them a pretty pair of ankles, shall we?”

  “Mine?” He coiled. “FOR THE DRAGONESS!”

  Asturbar remembered wondering where that battle cry had come from. He remembered his heavy boots pounding the immaculate rubies underfoot as he gathered momentum like a runaway armoured train. Then all his awareness narrowed in on the rasp of his breathing and the sensation of stretching his arms wide, a pretty dress clutched in his left gauntlet and a battle-axe in his right, as he lowered his shoulders toward that inch-perfect, braced line of infantry. The Beetles jolted into motion, closing the gap far too slowly. They would not be a factor. From forty feet, he saw Taruton’s eyes widening beneath his golden helm. Perhaps he could not believe one man would charge two hundred. Perhaps he apprehended the unholy light in Asturbar’s eyes. He had to be wondering where the girl had vanished to. Twenty feet. The armour seethed along his arms, becoming iridium wings a dozen yards wide. Her metal was heavy! Ten feet. Thighs pumping. Body braced. Veins popping. Swollen muscles locked in the arms, shoulders and torso, dipping into impeccable alignment with the momentum of his charge.

  With a monstrous bellow, Asturbar struck the battle line with everything he had.

  KEERRUMP!!

  It was easily the biggest impact he had ever taken. Black spots danced before his eyes. Sweeping the recoiling Taruton off his feet, he smashed the High Commander backward through the line of his men. Shields crumpled like so many wet rags. Soldiers sheared away from the point of impact like the bow wave of a Dragon crash-landing in water. He and Nyahi blew through three successive lines, both yelling, and then he sloughed them off. Charging between the gates, he thundered over a narrow defensive bridge that crossed the spike pits. They dropped the grating at the second set of gates more out of hope than anything else, because Nyahi just screamed for him to keep going, and she caused them to shimmer through with only the slightest hiatus for her transformation.

  Asturbar roared up the hundred ruby steps and through the citadel’s front door proper upon a comet-like trail of mauve sparks before ending up behind a very tall ceremonial cloth painting with his nose squashed against a ruby wall.

  “Oops,” Human-Nyahi apologised. “Almost perfect.”

  He ogled her naked ankles unashamedly. “Oh, I beg to disagree.”

  “My clothes, you crude man.”

  Dressed, Nyahi took him by the hand. They ran through the arched passageways of her old home, passing oval pictures of ancestors with gorgeous gemstone-heavy frames – of course – and priceless antique displays of jewelled eggs, artisanal timers for keeping track of seasonally floating Islands, jewelled sceptres, a whole hallway crammed with jewelled sculptures of different types of Dragons … call him a cynical soldier, but Asturbar felt he might just be detecting a pattern here. Every interior surface, every cornice and pillar and roof buttress had been artfully decorated in contrasting shades of ruby.

  Insane. They had to own the biggest ruby mine in the Island-World!

  Oh, and an obsessive ruler or two who definitely wanted visitors to know that for a fact. Still, the sheer glut of wealth on display could have ransomed many an Island nation.

  Probably following the direction of his stupefied gaze, Iridiana muttered, “Yes, it’s embarrassing. Let’s just go find Father, shall we?”

  “Where to?”

  “The Grand Hall.” Rounding a corner, Asturbar rammed his left shoulder
into the gut of an unsuspecting guardsman. “It’s … grand.”

  Asturbar thought he had been stupefied by the wealth. What he saw in the Grand Hall beat all of that into the dust. Besides the inevitable ruby overkill, the sweeping veils of chandelier lights that lit the hall, for a change, were like magical lacework fashioned from red diamonds, set off by a backdrop of gemstone artworks that encrusted the entire ceiling, each segment depicting different aspects of the glory of the Kahilate, he supposed. The rubies inlaid in the walls, floors and pillars all pointed toward the throne area. There, upon a throne seemingly carved of a single, unblemished ruby that had to weigh multiple tonnes – most probably fashioned by Dragon magic, Asturbar thought dazedly – sat a spare yet handsome man swathed in more layers of vermilion robes than he felt could reasonably have fit inside the average wardrobe.

  He was deep in conversation with Chanbar.

  His stride hitched. Chanbar! Asturbar narrowed his eyes, taking in the familiar, black-clad form. The simultaneous jerks of surprise as the two men glanced up. An instant of recognition. Shan-Jarad’s colour drained away around his sculpted jaw and fashionably trimmed beard, while Chanbar’s devious little smile morphed through shock into an impassive, haughty mask.

  Nyahi faltered, too.

  For a breathless second, the only sounds in the hall were the ringing tap-tap-tap of his boots accompanied by the soft patter of Nyahi’s barefoot steps.

  He had to speak. “Why, Chanbar, what a pleasant surprise. How did you get here so fast?”

  Something’s not right. Iridiana’s thought tickled his mind. Leandrial …

  Observing, little ones. I will sniff this out. Open your senses to me.

  How could this be? Asturbar racked his brains. He knew this man well. He was not capable of flying here so fast; they had left him behind just a few days ago. Unless …

  He’s the Chameleon, he gasped.

  What? No data. No evidence, Leandrial complained. Two Marshals Chanbar? I … oh, interesting. Lost all communication back to Yiisuriel. Why? Searching.