by Marc Secchia
Seize Iridiana’s hand. Walk. Just keep walking up that long gemstone pathway toward the throne, approaching a man who had clearly never thought to see his daughter in the flesh again. His heart wriggled unhappily in his throat. He almost had to pull Iridiana along, so reticent was she, but then she changed. Not so much outwardly, but he felt the moment her courage began to flow. Her hand tightened upon his. When he glanced aside, it was to see her jaw set and her head held high. She walked in the way of royalty, with a lengthening stride that proclaimed her absolute right to be present in that hall.
One hundred feet to a throne had never seemed longer as they traversed that opulent space. Soldiers peeled out of hiding in niches in the walls, barked orders to each other, but he did not hear a word. Shan-Jarad seemed to have been carved in stone, but all Asturbar knew was the reality that it was not Chanbar up there. It could not be. He had known the man all his life. His disguise was perfect, but he knew the truth. It was a sense deeper than any Human perception could possibly search. If he had not known better, Asturbar would have said he smelled wrong.
Raising his own chin, he stared challengingly at Chanbar.
“Why brother, I do believe it’s your exiled daughter,” the former Marshal said coolly. “Come to face the death penalty, Iridiana?”
“I don’t think so, Uncle,” she replied.
“Iridiana! How could you?” Shan-Jarad gasped at last.
“Quite easily, father.” Her voice was smooth and cool, like the rubies that surrounded her father’s throne. “I want to know –”
“Stop right there!” shouted one of the soldiers. “Back, Uxâtate! Get under cover!”
They stopped fifteen feet from the throne. Nyahi had such a grip upon his fingers, Asturbar thought he might just lose a few. Her inner Dragoness?
Shan-Jarad rose, gripping the ruby armrests of his throne for support. The only time in his life he had ever seen a man appear so grey and sweaty, he had died of a heart attack the following week. He whispered, “No …”
“Take them down, Uxâtate?” Arrows bristled around the hall and bowstrings creaked as archers half-hidden in slots higher up amidst the finery took aim.
“Brother, you should let me deal with this unfortunate situation,” Chanbar offered graciously.
“No. Stand down,” Shan-Jarad hissed. Suddenly, he seemed to gather strength. “I will speak with my daughter.”
Quicker than a blink, Chanbar appeared to glance about the chamber as if he suspected some fey presence in the aether, before he stepped forward, saying, “Brother, it is against the law for you to even converse with this criminal, this –”
“Silence, brother!” rasped the ruler. Why so reckless? Tottering down the three steps onto the ruby floor, he extended his arms. “Iridiana, my daughter, it has been far too long –”
“Don’t touch me!”
Shan-Jarad pulled up as if he had been struck.
“Father, I am here to demand from you the secret of who I am.”
Chanbar murmured, “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.” Her plea was so raw, Asturbar’s scalp prickled. Deep inner pain. Longing – who am I? What am I? “I will not speak it aloud for fear of the consequences, but you both know what I mean.”
Ah, a noble path. Asturbar loved her for choosing that way. Had she spoken of her true nature, her father would already be doomed – innocent or guilty as he might be.
Chanbar said coldly, “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!”
Nyahi’s eyes pleaded with her father. Shan-Jarad seemed frozen. Only his jaw worked, but not a sound emerged.
Asturbar growled, “Tell us the secret of Iridiana’s heritage, Shan-Jarad.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Chanbar’s left hand twitch. It drew back slightly. Flick.
“Nyahi!”
He whirled with her slim waist clasped in his arms. A slight, metallic ting sounded from the metal of his right platinum-argentonium wristlet, right over the pulse. A dart fell to the floor.
Attempted assassination! That Chanbar would stoop so low …
Nooo … she cried. He held vines. A tower of flame. A panting dragonet.
“See?” shrieked Chanbar. “Kill the beast. Now!”
Then, a wall of indigo flame thundered over the former Marshal, smashing him to the ground. Jaws snarled around his throat, snapping and finding no purchase, yet Asturbar saw his face waver. There was magic there; an unfamiliar man beneath, a man with bestial, flaming eyes – or was he simply imagining an evil he thought must be present? Iridiana attacked and attacked, snarling furiously, but she could not seem to breach his skin.
“Father! No!”
“Yazina!” Asturbar’s jaw dropped.
“Get off him. Get off!” screamed the teenager.
He had no idea where she had appeared from. Yazina’s passion carried her through the lines of soldiers who had begun to draw together around the throne, ostensibly protecting Shan-Jarad, but the spectacle had unnerved and paralysed them.
Iridiana! Asturbar called urgently. Iridiana, STOP!
Panting, she broke away, and then she darted for his wrist. Diamonds. Shivering. I’m a beast, a beast, uncontrollable …
He spat, That’s not Chanbar. To the shaken man, he said, You’re not Chanbar, are you?
Halting at Asturbar’s side, Yazina stared at the man on the floor. He picked himself up slowly. In a moment, their eyes met. She said, “Are you my father?”
“Of course. Don’t be silly, child.”
He seemed utterly confident. Yazina said, “What was your pet name for me when I was three?”
Chanbar’s eyes glittered. Amusement? Triumph? “Tollisweetness, after my favourite sweet berry wine, Tolliskutar,” he declared.
Asturbar thought the teenager would be crushed. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Turning blindly toward him, she pressed her face against his gambeson and wailed, “That’s not him! That’s not my father – oh nooooo …”
Chanbar’s jaw sagged. “What?” Her wild sobs seemed to pound him like Gang’s body-slam manoeuvers. “What nonsense is this, child? What’s going on? Somebody …”
WHOMP!!
“That’s the same nonsense that we fed you before you left,” said the Shadow Dragon. Asturbar wanted to cheer. How quickly and smartly had Aranya moved? Not that he had wanted to see Nyahi’s reunion with Shan-Jarad usurped, but to find Chanbar was more than a shock. He was involved. He had to be, and the peril had never been greater.
Trapped, the man’s eyes widened with fear.
Ardan asked, “What became of the real Chanbar, Chameleon? When did you dispose of him?”
“How did you –”
“Shadows hunt for men’s souls. Yours displayed characteristics I had never encountered before,” said the huge Dragon, pacing up behind Asturbar. His bulk made even the Grand Hall seem cosy. “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.”
“Is that so?” Not-Chanbar smiled with a viperous curl of his lip.
Outside, alarms were clanging every which way as the Uxâtate security apparatus swung into motion. He had no idea what recourse they had against Dragons, but he doubted they would be unprepared. That was not this ruler’s way.
“You forgot only one detail. Memories do not transfer,” said Ardan. “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 did. Well then, Chameleon. Time to show yourself.”
Leandrial whispered to Asturbar and Iridiana, Something’s still not right. I can’t place him. Be ready for anything.
“That’s an interesting theory, but sadly, it’s all completely false,” said Chanbar. As he spoke, his face shimmered and then transformed before their eyes into a man of the same height as the ex-Marshal, but his hair was sandy and his eyes, a piercing blue Asturbar knew he had seen before. He raised his hand. Bones.
Everyone froze, save Iridiana. She Shifted, and –
Magic, the man added. She became immobilised mid-transformation. “Now, even your precious Land Dragoness 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.”
Chuckling to himself, he prowled past the frozen trio of Asturbar, Iridiana and Yazina, before turning sharply on his polished heel. Only a tear moved, trickling down Yazina’s cheek to plink upon Asturbar’s boot. “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.”
Shan-Jarad seemed to be struggling to clench his fists, but even that was denied him. Angry tears welled in his eyes.
“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 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!”
Unexpectedly, the prowling man spat full in Iridiana’s face! The girl would have wished to flinch, but she could not.
He chuckled horribly. “Do you want to know more about your precious heritage? I’ll tell you more! When Talrishana became pregnant with a girl, 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-family 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?”
Only his laughter broke the stillness.
With a vast, ripping sound, a Dragon burst into being, smashing every person present to the ground. Only Ardan remained standing. “I AM AZHUKAZI!”
The Necromancer!
His muzzle dipped until his fire-eyes burned upon Iridiana’s prone form. “I am your father.”
* * * *
Asturbar heard Iridiana screaming in his mind. She could not move a muscle, but her scream rang unending. He could not think. All he knew was her visceral terror and hatred for this beast.
Standing stock-still now, the Dragon loomed over them. Only his lips moved as he 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. 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 forepaw clenched above her person, and then the fore-talon flicked out to touch her throat. “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!”
Spitting with fury, the Necromancer Dragon paced away almost out of Asturbar’s sight, before turning to walk back. He was thinking furiously, and trying to think positive, comforting thoughts into Nyahi’s mind. How could all of this be true? How could she so resemble Aranya, and yet be Azhukazi’s daughter? Still the truth had not emerged, he suspected; it was simply that he had no better ideas than these horrific insinuations that threatened to break Nyahi’s mind. She was gibbering in there, on the verge of going feral, and that would end her …
Reaching out with every ounce of his being, he enwrapped her in his love. 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.
She seemed to subside, but the touch of her mind was like thrusting his hand into roiling fires. Iridiana teetered on the cusp of madness.
Azhukazi murmured across the floor, “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 even them! I took knowledge from them – and you, Marshal Asturbar – you were the only person in that chamber astute enough to perceive 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.”
Stalking forward now, he aimed his talon at Iridiana. “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 end this abomination’s life – right now!”
* * * *
At once, Asturbar felt his body release. His desire having been to reach Nyahi and protect her, he rolled sharply between her and the Iolite Blue’s stabbing talon, taking a heavy blow to his argentonium gambeson. The metal did not break, but it felt as if his liver had been torn out of his body as the great talon plowed its way across his flesh. She was alive, but still apparently restrained by Azhukazi’s fey powers.
Then Aranya, in her Amethyst Dragoness form, materialised just a stone’s throw from the Iolite Blue – again from thin air, but this was a very special version of thin air, he
realised. The Jewels of Instashi hovered around her in a protective circle, once again led by Sapphire, clearly shielding the Star Dragoness from whatever Azhukazi had purposed; he roared, cursed and tried to flame her, but that delicate, shimmering shield the Jewels cast about her Dragoness seemed more than sufficient for the task.
Azhukazi backed away, his fire-eyes rolling wildly as he sized up his options. He would strike any second. Revenge.
Aranya gestured with her paw. BE FREE!
The chamber exploded into action. Aranya and Ardan clashed furiously with Azhukazi; an unseen force washed through Asturbar’s body and caused Iridiana’s body to flop over like a limp rag, first onto her face, and then onto her back. She had just begun to draw breath when Shan-Jarad fell atop her, crying, “No! It’s not true! O my daughter, I’m so sorry …”
His knees knocked the breath out of her.
“I love you!”
Phweee … Nyahi wheezed.
Chapter 30: Eggshell Tales
Rolling to his feet, Asturbar scragged Uxâtate Shan-Jarad by the scruff of his ridiculous overload of robes and hauled him off Iridiana. “This is a battle, you stupid slakkid – uh …” Here he paused, struck by the notion that he should not be making a habit of insulting leaders of formidable nations – especially not those who also happened to be potential future relatives.
Dragons incoming! “With me!”
Dangling the hapless ruler in his left hand, Asturbar spun with the battle-axe extended in his right, clattering Azhukazi on the edge of the paw whilst whisking Shan-Jarad out of the way of a decapitating talon sweep. The Iolite Blue stomped powerfully in passing in an attempt to flatten Iridiana, but the Shadow Dragon struck him amidships with a lowered shoulder and body posture any Azingloriax warrior would have boasted about for five years afterward. Azhukazi toppled sideways, failing to land his strike, but he took Iridiana with him in the form of a five-foot ball of spikes stuck beneath his right hind paw.