Aranya Treasury - The Complete Shapeshifter Dragons Series, page 175
Asturbar looked both mightily unimpressed, and fearfully intent.
“This promises to be fun,” Ardan whispered.
“How many rubies?” Zip breathed. “Is that whole citadel one big ruby?”
“Encrusted,” said Aranya, scanning the waiting soldiers with every sense on high alert. Nothing there, apparently. Where was the danger? When would it strike?
Even from that distance, the golden-armoured fellow’s shout was clear. “Last chance. Take the filth away!”
Ardan’s mighty shoulders quaked with mirth. “He didn’t.”
“He did. Watch. I’m betting – oh, a dragonet!”
Apparently Nyahi was having trouble with her Chaos powers again, because her clothing fluttered in the breeze as a violet dragonet bounced off her man’s arm. He bent to retrieve her garments and then … whoosh!
“Holy Fra’anior!” Ardan said feelingly.
Iridiana had just turned herself into the heaviest infantry armour any of them had ever seen, enwrapping Asturbar’s immensely muscled bulk in untold sackweight of gleaming iridium armour – upward of half a tonne, Aranya estimated – while the man hefted his battle-axe and rolled his shoulders with ominous, unambiguous intent.
“Oh … I can’t watch!” Zip squealed.
“Me neither!” yelped Yazina, pretending to cover her eyes.
“I can,” Ardan snickered.
“Sadist,” said Aranya.
Over on the priceless ruby portico, Asturbar roared, “FOR THE DRAGONESS!”
The regiment barring the outer gateway of Shan-Jarad’s ridiculously over-decorated fortress drew together as the man charged them in an ostensibly mad solo assault. Well, mad until one realised that his armour was a Chaos Dragoness, and her fey power uplifted and braced him as the soldier took them on. His heavily armoured arms stretched impossibly, twelve feet wide.
KEERRUMP!! The regiment caved in like a rotten piece of fruit smashed by a Sylakian hammer.
Ardan winced.
Aranya almost bit through her lip.
Hee hee, so silly, tittered Sapphire, while her brood of six fell about coughing and choking with laughter. Apparently seeing soldiers flung into the air as if launched by a feral Dragon and their allies vanishing through the gateway was beyond hilarious.
Yazina gasped, “He just –”
“Aye. Squelched the lot of them like bugs. Azingloriax, eh?” Ardan said enviously. “Time to catch up, ladies? I do believe our allies are inside the Palace. We should offer timely aid.”
“I’m not convinced they need it,” said Zip.
“Moral support, then,” said Aranya. Silence, thou Remoyan yokel. “Come on. Leandrial has sensed our presence and I think she’s pleased, although she’s giving nothing away. I’m guessing that means she’s concerned as well.”
Evening was no shroud in the ancient Ruby City, but a Shadow had ways of moving in this terrain that, coupled with Aranya and Zip’s skills, meant that the intrusion of a hundred-plus feet of belligerent Dragon remained undetected. She slipped beneath the Cloudlands. Now, ambulant rubies conformed to the body-littered portico. Soon a deeper shadow, with an almost imperceptible rippling effect, clasped the top of the outer wall and slipped over and down the far side as Aranya attempted to fold the ambient light around her Shadow Dragon. Two soldiers looked right through them. Drifting, Dragon-stepping over traps and defences toward a second wall. Ardan slithered up the battlements. The gemstone cladding made for easy climbing, but Aranya had to catch numerous falling rubies with swift wafts of air. She secreted them behind an ornamental planter.
Around that tower, she directed, following the sense of Iridiana’s movement. They must be running.
Every inch of Shan-Jarad’s round-towered citadel was immaculate. Every plant was perfectly trimmed. No flower dared to droop so much as a quarter-inch. Every surface was so thickly crusted with rubies, there was no trace of the original stonework beneath. Even the ornamental fountains were each a different study picked out in shades of ruby; masterful, but more than slightly over the top. Obsessive, Aranya thought. Ostentatious. The overall effect was not of warmth, but of a cold, brooding lack of passion. Nyahi had called her culture solipsistic and inflexible. That conclusion was undeniably expressed here.
With the dragonets’ help, they scaled several Palace outbuildings to reach the exterior of what had to be the central meeting hall, perhaps the place where a King – or Uxâtate, the absolute ruler of this realm – would meet his subjects. Iridiana had already entered.
Those windows? said Ardan, pointing.
We can try.
Make tiny to enter, said Sapphire, trilling her pleasure as she realised she had come up with a use for the Flow state her companions had not even considered. Go in, yes-yes?
Sapphire, once again, words fail me, Aranya said feelingly.
The dragonet wingtip-genuflected with staggering immodesty. Sapphire is genius. Ari know.
Gorgeous rascal.
I thought that was my title? Zip whispered, but her tone was anything but jovial.
A ninety-foot shimmy up the sheer ruby walls of the massive hall – even the roof was festooned with rubies the size of Dragons’ eggs – posed no challenge once a little Chrysolitic mischief had been perpetrated. The dragonets compressed everyone down to the size of Sapphire’s ordinary body and they landed on the window ledge to peer inside, and down at the confrontation developing inside of the hall.
The decorators had not tired of the unrelenting use of rubies. The floor and walls were artfully presented in different shades and patterns of ruby, whilst the delicate veils of chandeliers that lit the yawning space were, just for variety’s sake, picked out in blood-red diamonds. The hulking throne was … aye, a monolithic chunk of unblemished ruby standing ten feet tall and five wide, its arms and high back forming the sculpted heads and wings of birds of prey, just now vacated by a crimson-robed man whose grey pallor contrasted violently with his preferred decorative colours as he gaped at the apparition of his exiled daughter confronting him, trembling, seemingly on the point of tears.
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 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.”
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.
