Dragons and Mages: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  “No,” I whisper. “No, it can’t be.”

  Orion links his fingers with mine and touches the green scales with me. I look at his face. Instead of the horror and disgust I feel, his face shows awe and something else. Reverence?

  “Is this the transformation?” I whisper.

  He looks into my eyes and says, “I think so.”

  “Not so keen to kiss me now, are you?” I ask.

  His voice is firm. “Nothing has changed.”

  “Everything has changed.”

  He moves to embrace me, but I tear myself out of his grasp and twist the handle on the cage. My skin has ceased itching, but huge pieces of it flake off of me, revealing more green scales underneath. I cry out in alarm.

  Orion rushes toward me.

  “Back!” I shout. “Stay back.”

  He stops, his mouth a grim line, and I see the struggle written in his features. He wants to help me, but he doesn’t know how.

  I think I am beyond help. The cage seems impossibly far away. I feel myself growing taller. My human skin is gone and I am all scales. I drop to all fours and feel my leggings and tunic stretch over me until the fabric tears. They fall away, much like my human skin.

  I cannot bear to look down and see what’s happening to my body, so I lift my lengthening neck to the sky. The stars have faded, chased away by sunlight. I look at the pale, white-blue of the heavens as my bones snap and reform. As something bursts from my spine, I wonder if I’m growing wings, whether I’ll be able to launch myself up into that pale blue oblivion and leave all of this pain and confusion behind.

  It’s Orion’s voice that brings me back, long after my body has finished rearranging itself.

  “Inez, are you all right?”

  All right? I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Never have I felt more powerful. Never have I felt more vulnerable. A part of me has died. A part of me is lost forever.

  A part of me has been reborn.

  The wolves are cowering, tugging against their leather bindings, trying to get as far away from me as possible. They look small on the ground like that, hunched into themselves, tails tucked between their legs. The alpha is the only one who doesn’t cower. I wonder if he senses that I’m not a threat, or if he would rather go down fighting.

  And Orion, he looks small. His eyes, though, are large. Fearful.

  I am a monster, a beast of nightmares.

  All this time, I have wanted to change, to transform myself into the hero of my own story.

  Instead, I have warped into a villain.

  The cage is the only thing as big as I am, yet I stand outside of it. My legs are long, thick, and scaled. They end in silvery claws, each as long and sharp as a dagger.

  I open my mouth to speak, but no words come forward.

  Movement to my left catches my eye—it is my shadow, stretching far across the white-salted ground. Longer in the sunrise. Longer because of my immensity.

  The alpha wolf whines and falls to his belly, then lays his head on his forepaws. So much for going down with a fight.

  Orion hasn’t moved. I wonder if he has even breathed.

  I remember what the dragon looked like in Lament. A nightmarish creature, lethal.

  The look on Orion’s face—fear—is tinged with something else. Looking harder, I can see it in the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  Pity.

  An empty, aching feeling spreads through my expansive chest. I wonder—because there is more of me, can I feel more pain?

  I can’t bear to stay here for another moment. The goal had been the cage, but I’m glad I never made it inside. I lurch to the left, see the outline of wings in my shadow. I am a dragon. I have wings, I can fly away from here.

  It takes me only a moment to send my focus to my shoulders. I twitch them, and the wings in my shadow move, too.

  I send a last look to Orion. Is it possible for him to read my intent? It seems doubtful that my scaled face would have any expression, but Orion says, “Inez, don’t. Please stay.”

  I run past him, stretch my shoulders to expand my new wings, and launch myself into the air.

  Mountains beckon to the west. I’ll go there. There is no plan in my mind, no goal. Nothing beyond the mountains.

  The sun has risen completely, chasing off all hints of the cool evening. I absorb its warmth, allow it to give me energy. I follow the waves of heat in the air, instinctively using them so that I can soar.

  I glance back. The cage is visible, but it looks like a spider, spindly and black against the white salty ground. Orion and the wolves are nothing more than specks. A pang of guilt washes over me—I’m leaving him alone. I shouldn’t do that—how will he defend himself?

  He’s strong, I reason. He was like a son to Master Kenneth. No matter how much I practiced, Orion nearly always bested me when we sparred.

  I have been waiting for you. Little daughter, what are you doing?

  The voice startles me and I flinch, dipping out of my warm wave of air. I beat my wings twice to find it again. I open my mouth to respond, but there are no words.

  Just think to me, she says. I’ll hear you.

  What is happening to me?

  I remade you when you were dying. There was a spark in you and I could not let you go. A dragon’s love is fierce and creates an unbreakable bond.

  I stare hard at the mountains and the horizon. Where are you? How can you talk to me like this?

  It is our gift—one of many, she says. We are connected, we are all one.

  I don’t want this gift, I say.

  Don’t you? She sounds surprised.

  No, I don’t.

  I still can’t see her anywhere, and I wonder how far apart we can be and still communicate. The mountains are growing closer. Beyond them, I see something entirely new—dunes of green.

  Her voice is suddenly harsh. You want water for your people. Now you are in a unique position to provide it.

  By dying? I ask. Some gift.

  Foolish daughter. The hunters are wrong. The only thing on the other side of the dragon’s pelt is her blood. The map is inside you, in your fire, in your smoke.

  I remember the dragon in Lament raising her head from the well and bellowing fire. She watched as it hung in the air a moment and she studied it after it turned to smoke.

  In my fire, I say slowly.

  She makes a satisfied sound in my head. Where is she? I feel alone, but not.

  The dunes of green are growing closer and I can see that they aren’t dunes, but lush, forested hills.

  Am I looking at the Western Lands? I ask.

  Yes. On a sled, it will take weeks and more water than you can transport to reach them.

  Disappointment fills me. So much for my dream of leading my kingdom here. Maybe she’s wrong. After all, Orion and I reached The Salt. I wheel around to see how far away he is now. My heart clenches in my chest—there is no sign of that sea of white in the distance.

  You can help your people, the dragon says. Trust your fire.

  Will I be human again? I ask her.

  You can wear that form whenever you like, but it will take discipline not to turn to your dragon when you sense danger. Also, there are limits to how often you can transform. Changing from one form to the other is tiring.

  Heartened by this, I put the Western Lands behind me and soar east.

  Suddenly, a brilliant green dragon emerges from the hazy clouds beyond the cliffs to the north. I can see one side of its face from this angle, and a brilliant, silvery eye winks at me.

  Is that you? I ask.

  She turns over once, twisting in the air. Yes, little daughter. It has been a century since I birthed a new dragon, and I like your company. I will join you for a little while.

  I try to twist in the air as she just did, but the air current buffets my outstretched wings and I’m clumsily jostled until I beat my wings to right myself once more. How did you do that? I ask her.

  Fold your wings in, little daughter. />
  I’m afraid—won’t folding in my wings cause me to fall? But now she is flying at my side, her green scales glimmering, and I lose my fear.

  Gathering my wings in close, I spin.

  We wheel and soar and spin in the cloudless sky, the sun infusing our scales with life-giving heat.

  What is your name? I ask.

  I am called Priya, she answers.

  Then thank you, Priya, for this gift. She had spoken of the gift and the sacrifice, but all that I had felt, before, was the sacrifice.

  Now, I understand the gift.

  Chapter 7

  The map is inside the dragon, in the fire, in the heart, in the lungs, and in the belief, writ on its skin.

  The sun is dipping low by the time we reach The Salt. We have flown all day together, exploring the boundaries of the Western Desert. I ask her about the Western Lands, beyond the mountains, but she tells me it is a region where dragons are unwelcome and unsafe. Its hostility renders it similar to the central desert of Celinia, where the Kingdom of Sand and Stars is located.

  And to the north? I ask.

  The Dragon Lands, she says, a smile in her tone. I can take you there to meet the other dragons now.

  The idea is tantalizing, like one of those spiced figs that Nima loves so much. I would welcome a chance to learn more about my dragon gift and to meet others like me. But Orion waits somewhere on the ground, and this late in the day, he’s likely worried, wondering whether or not to harness the wolves, wondering whether I’ll even return.

  He has to know I’ll come back to him, though. Just as he wouldn’t leave me in Lament, I will not abandon him in the middle of The Salt.

  I have to return to Orion, I say.

  You love him, she says, her voice carrying a touch of judgment. Or perhaps it is caution.

  I do.

  You should know, little daughter, that the dragon’s love is fierce. If you are not careful, it will consume everything.

  I don’t respond, but spend the rest of our flight to The Salt pondering her words.

  Orion is standing outside his tent when we arrive. He’s looking up at the sky, hand to his brow to block out the setting sun. I wonder what Priya and I must look like, two dragons streaking across the sky toward him.

  He shows no fear, if he feels it, and my heart is drawn to him even more strongly.

  “Inez!” he shouts, waving his arms in the air.

  How do I return to human? I ask Priya.

  You never stopped being human, she says. Remember that, once you touch ground, and you will find that form again.

  My landing is awkward. All day in the sky, but I had never thought to practice landing. I watch as Priya gracefully lands, her strong legs absorbing the impact.

  Before I return to human, I ask, should I breathe fire and make a map?

  That’s a good idea, she says.

  I don’t ask for help, because I’m certain her advice will be something about sensing or feeling the ability within myself. So I simply take a breath, seek out sensations of fire, and think of water, as well.

  Holding those thoughts in my mind, I expel a huge breath of fire. The flames hang high in the air for a heartbeat before dissipating and revealing a smoky veil.

  Well done, Priya says in my mind. A moment later, she’s a woman—and nude. She appears unashamed of her nakedness, but Orion’s eyes get huge and he reaches into his tent for a blanket, which he holds up to her.

  She wraps the cloth around herself like a towel and says, “Thank you.”

  I remember my human form, as she instructed. The transformation isn’t painful like my first one. Why is that? I ask Priya in my mind, she doesn’t respond. Perhaps talking and thought is limited to the dragon form.

  I am naked, too, but Orion already holds out a second blanket. He looks purposefully at the smoky map I created in the air.

  “Thank you,” I say, my face heating as I cover myself. “I’ll just grab some clothes. Priya, do you want any?”

  She shakes her head, and her eyes are on the map of smoke. “As soon as my body is able, I will take to my dragon again.”

  “How long does that usually take?” I ask.

  “Sometimes not long at all.” She shrugs. “Sometimes an entire day. I am tired, so it will probably take longer. On second thought, I think I will accept something to wear.”

  I dress quickly in my tent. As I dress, I listen to Priya tell Orion about the map I breathed.

  “You should copy it down, before it fades,” she says.

  There’s a small bit of parchment, ink, and a quill in the sled. We keep them there in case we need to leave messages for other travelers. When I emerge from my tent, Orion is retrieving the supplies, leaning over the side of the sled.

  Priya catches my eye and winks. “He’s a good man,” she whispers.

  I feel warm under her praise of him, because he is good, and that goodness ought to be recognized. I hand her a spare pair of leggings and a tunic, and she dresses.

  Parchment, ink, and quill in hand, Orion plops down on the salty ground and begins to outline our map. Priya points out whorls and lines, explaining how to read them.

  “This light circle here is likely in your kingdom,” she says, pointing to a faded circle. “Isn’t there an oasis in the area?”

  “Yes,” I say, “it’s between the two cities.”

  “But dry now,” she says, pointing at the white swirl in the smoke.

  Orion and I both nod.

  “And here is Lament, where we met. The water there is good, as you can tell from the darkness of the smoke. And here, not too far south of your eastern city—”

  “The City of Sand,” I say. “I see it—another dark swirl. Water?” My heart thumps faster in my chest and I search Priya’s face, hoping for answers.

  Priya beams and her gray eyes sparkle. “Yes.”

  “How much?” I ask.

  “Enough for your kingdom,” she says.

  I stand up on the balls of my feet, looking for more dark swirls. The map begins to fade. Orion’s hand is moving fast over the parchment as he scrambles to write everything down.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I can turn into my dragon and breathe it again.”

  “Even if you could transform now, I don’t think that would be wise, little daughter,” Priya says, waving her hands through the smoke, trying to make it disappear.

  “Why not? You said we can take our dragon forms again, almost any time we want.”

  She frowns and abandons the smoke to grab my hand. “Can you hear them? Hunters are approaching. They might have seen your fire. Quickly, we need to leave.”

  I hear nothing except the new pounding of my heart, but Orion and I immediately break down our tents and begin harnessing the wolves.

  “Quickly,” Priya says.

  Now I can hear them—a whistled direction to their wolves, the occasional excited yip. I know without seeing them that these aren’t strange, unknown hunters—it’s Petre and the others.

  Our sled is loaded and I hop up. I reach down to Priya, who doesn’t hesitate before taking my hand and letting me help her into the sled. Orion asks, “Which direction?”

  Priya nods, thinking. “Directly east.”

  “Easy. We’re already pointing east.” Orion takes the reins and lets out a loud whistle and the wolves leap forward.

  Over the white, salty ground, the sled rails don’t make a shush, shush sound. They sound gritty and scraping. The wolves have to work harder to pull us.

  I turn back to look at the giant iron cage, its bars fainter in the dying light. Priya follows my gaze.

  “Yes,” she says, answering the question I haven’t voiced. “That was made to hold a dragon.”

  But we’re strong, I think to myself. We breathe fire like the scorpion dragons. We can fly higher than any spear can reach.

  Orion’s shoulders are tense, so I get up and stand next to him. I want to reassure him, but I’m not sure how, so I touch his forearm. His
eyes are a clear green, like an oasis shaded by palms, and he offers me a small smile.

  “I can’t tell if they’re gaining on us,” he says, turning briefly to look to the other side of us. “I can’t see them at all.”

  “They’re gaining,” Priya says, “but slowly. If your sled were lighter...”

  She looks, for a moment, as if she’ll leap off the moving sled.

  “Don’t even think of it,” I say to her. “Orion and I can fight, and I imagine you can, too. We’ll fight better together.”

  I look ahead. The sun is setting behind us, throwing an orange glow on the dunes, making them deeper, richer, and somehow more forbidding. “Or, we could go through the Whispering Canyon. They might not follow us.”

  “But the windhaunts,” Orion says. “Except...I see. You’re hoping they won’t want to risk them.”

  “If they go around the canyon,” I reason, “they’ll be a quarter of a day’s journey behind us. We’ll reach the City of Stars and gain the protection of the kingdom’s warriors.”

  “And if they tell your warrior friends that at least one of us is a dragon?” Priya asks.

  “So?” I say. “We’ll be with our allies. They won’t hurt us, not when we bring a map to water.”

  Priya looks doubtful, but I know my people. I know Nima.

  Orion says, “They might decide to follow us through the Whispering Canyon.”

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “And if they do, maybe a windhaunt will get them. The alternative is letting them catch up to us and hoping we can best them in a fight on the open dunes. We’ll have the advantage in the canyon.”

  I think of telling Orion to go on without us. But then I realize, Petre might capture him and hurt him to make me return.

  I look at Priya. “How will I know when my dragon is ready again?”

  “Feel inside yourself. It’s a sensation of energy and flight. You’ll know it if it’s there.”

  Closing my eyes, I try to reach for a feeling like she described, but I don’t have it. Or if I do, it’s weak.

  She continues thoughtfully, “It will be a benefit to you if you can bring out your dragon; the windhaunts don’t affect us while we’re presenting our dragon forms.”