Becoming the Dragon

by Alex Sapegin

  Nirel’s world crumbled. “How did she die?”

  “At my hands. I killed your sister, my wife.” Rad was horrible to look at.

  “What!” Nirel grabbed a knife.

  “Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME!” His guest flung the weapon from his hands with a kick, grabbed Nirel by the lapels of his camisole and fell to the floor next to him.

  “Speak…” Nirel allowed, in a hoarse whisper.

  Radel began to tell the story, and the longer he spoke, the darker and gloomier the executioner’s face became. He didn’t want to believe what he heard, but his rational mind knew every word from the first to the last was pure truth.

  “But His Lordship promised me he would put every effort into the searches!” he cried, his voice breaking.

  “His Lordship is a politician. An hour later, he forgot you existed.”

  “Can it be that no one continued looking? She has the aura of a purebred elf!” Nirel continued to search for answers.

  “Can you hear yourself? Who would continue searching for a living doll after she’s been given a horse-sized dose of kolod and crossed the boundary of intellect? An obedient doll with primitive instincts, who can’t keep a thought in her head and wants only to give birth? You can’t imagine what I had to go through to break into the wolf preparation center and come back out alive! The guard there was rummaging around the entire territory with her nose, searching for her wolf-queen’s killer! Guess who the project’s curator is? Your own dearly beloved, His Lordship!”

  Quiet reigned in the room, disturbed only by the choppy breathing of two elves, floored by grief, and the crackling of logs in the fireplace.

  Nirel picked the knife up off the floor and cut a slit in his left palm with it. His life had a new purpose. “I’ll get my revenge on His Lordship and the Forest for what they’ve done to us.”

  Radel’s bloody palm clasped his. “I will avenge her with you. What do you plan to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. You should go back to the Forest and find out anything you can about His Lordship Ratela. Gain his trust and try to get into his inner circle. He has a daughter, we can strike at her. Let him feel what I am feeling now!”

  There was a knock at the door; the curtain allowed sounds from the outside in, just not the other way around.

  “Sir, dinner is served.” Eliz, as always, was punctual.

  The elderly housekeeper had not yet finished speaking when there came a loud pounding sound of fists banging on the door.

  “Sir! Sir! The palace!” it was the gatekeeper’s voice.

  “What about the palace?”

  “There’s a fire! The central complex is burning!”

  “Quickly saddle up Vulcan!”

  The brothers ran out to the balcony to a view of the royal residence. Against a backdrop of gray clouds and flashing lightning, pillars of black and white smoke arose from the palace.

  ***

  Raston. Andy.

  They shoved Andy into a cage. The lock clicked loudly. Scoffing merrily, the guards descended to their look-out posts. He was left on the small square alone. How nice it is to lie on cold stone sometimes…

  He had been carried like a sack of potatoes on the guards’ shoulders all the way there. They hadn’t shackled him; there was no reason. The prisoner was no more dangerous than a kitten in the state he was in. In the middle of a spiral staircase, the guards tapped out and threw their load on the floor. The second half of the way, they dragged him behind themselves. Some walkers on that staircase fell off to the side and tumble down head over heels; he was fortunate enough to make it to the top of the stone steps, counting them with his rear end and with his striped back.

  It was pleasant in the cage. It was cool, and a fresh breeze was blowing, carrying away the stench Andy bore. He had lived ten days in wolf’s clothing without being able to wash. He was flea-bitten, and suspected fleas weren’t the only ones chowing down on him. He dreamed of a hot bath with a leafy birch branch to help him exfoliate… and tried to forget how the rain on his wolf’s fur made it stink like urine. He wished he could eat a piece of fried beef with a thin crunchy outer layer and a sweet juicy center, or even a piece of bread, rye, which smelled like home. Where was home, anyway?

  Two of the exhibits in the menagerie never got fed—the dragon, of course, and him. For him, they just pointed to the scraps all around, saying, “Choose what you like. If you don’t like these, wait until tomorrow, and they’ll throw others at you.” True, they weren’t stingy when it came to water. They put the enclosure near a fake stream, but that was the effort of the builder, not the supervisor.

  Andy carefully turned over on his back. He pressed his elbows to the ground as a safeguard. The cold stone placated his burning back a bit. Lightning struck, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. There they were, the bolts of energy breaking through, one tiny little bit of lightning would be more than enough… Andy covered his eyes and concentrated.

  I don’t get it! The sources of mana are right there, nothing is overarching the energy. It’s just that something troublesome has crawled onto the outer edges, something annoying like the buzz of a mosquito in my ear. Forgetting about the pain on his back, he turned over to his stomach again and, stretching out his knees, crawled over to the bars. It was the familiar gray metal, gray as a rainy day, but they weren’t blocking his magic. Did they forget to cast the spell?

  A blinding flash and a clap of thunder close to the ground jolted on the floor; the lightning had hit the tall metal spire on the other side of the square across from the cage. Tiny discharges of energy ran down the bars. Now that’s something!

  “I love thunderstorms at the beginning of May!” That’s why the notrium wasn’t hindering the magic; the electricity in the atmosphere had destroyed or countered the spell.

  Andy wanted to smother the black cloud with kisses. A burning thirst for action took possession of him. He had to strike now. With a silent prayer that the capricious lady wouldn’t turn her back on him once more, Andy began to go into a trance. Remembering what he had done in the wagon, he bathed himself in the familiar energy waterfall, but this time, he didn’t limit himself in any way. Energy flowed throughout his whole body. His magical reserves began to replenish within him.

  Without leaving his trance, Andy approached the bars and carefully examined all the places where they were reinforced and where the bars were sealed. The black barn padlock was the weak spot. He slid his right hand through the bars, concentrated, and let the potential come about… A small, short bolt of lightning came from his pointer finger. Don’t stop! More, more! The curved part of the lock began to glow red-hot. Better not touch the bars.

  “Aaaah!” leaning against the door and burning himself until he blistered, Andy continued to pummel the lock with bolts. More, more! His eyes watered, but he knew he mustn’t stop. Clinking briefly, the curved little bar broke and fell down. I did it! I’m free!

  Andy darted over to the fence around the square and looked down. Below, pairs of guards paced back and forth. There was a guard in the tower, too. It was too soon to rejoice; he had to think of something. A hot little flame began to tremble between his fingers from the sudden frenzy. That was it! He had to scorch something. The hulk of the palace towered before his eyes. Hmm, wouldn’t that be a nice gift for the king and some work for the guards to do? How do they put out fires here? By magic or do they call in firefighters?

  Andy ran back and forth along the edge of the square. He wasn’t afraid of the guards; they wouldn’t be back until the storm passed. They had run from the square painfully fast, and the elements were in no hurry to tone it down. Andy created a small flame, took shelter behind the spikes of the fence, and sent it toward the closest palace wing. The flame flew toward the building and went out when it hit an invisible defense. That’s bad, very bad. What now? Send it crawling through the chimneys? Yes! I can enter through the chimneys.

  “You’re a genius!” Andy praised himself. A new spot of flame flew
toward a chimney pipe and plunged downward unhindered. In a few minutes, unnoticed against the backdrop of lightning, a dozen encapsulated spots of fire were flying toward the main palace complex.

  “Hey, Alo! Why did you give me so little? But for what you did give, thank you!” The spots flew into the chimneys, steered by Andy’s will. Then it was time to let the salamander loose. Nothing happened for five minutes, and then he heard screams coming from below. It was burning well and had engulfed a third of the closest wing already. Thick black smoke tumbled out the windows where people were tearing about.

  Andy tore off toward the staircase. His energy-filled body required movement, but he could feel that it was only temporary. Soon the recoil would come, and his wounded back would call attention to itself with a redoubled force. He would have to pay for everything.

  Then, racing from the top down to the second platform, Andy ran into an old mage coming up to meet him. The man had a thick white beard and a strange metal rod in the shape of five clawed fingers in his left hand. Andy grabbed a torch from the wall and went at the head of the old mage with zeal. The mage was knocked out cold. The rod fell onto the stairs. I’ll take that; could come in handy.

  Andy’s decoy worked. The palace was going up in smoke in several different places already; dozens of people were rushing around and yelling like mad. It was a true panic, with all that entailed. It was also fortunate that the staff and the mages left the palace for the city at night. No one was there to notice his part in the disaster, and the king wouldn’t be able to count on putting out the fire by magical means.

  Andy ran to the menagerie. He could feel his time running out. As he passed the stables and the blacksmith, he stopped for a hammer. A horseman came galloping by from behind the stables. Andy let loose a flash of lightning that struck the rider in the chest, then bashed his face with the clawed rod, leaving several stripes in its wake. With a moan, the rider crashed from the saddle to the ground, and Andy rushed over to him. Nirel! Before Andy could deliver another blow, Nirel’s stallion rose in front of him, defending its master. Andy grabbed the hammer and ran.

  The dragon’s face showed such surprise at the sight of naked Andy with a hammer over his shoulder that Andy involuntarily glanced down at himself. “I said we’d break through!” he called joyfully to the scaly prisoner, and with a few blows, knocked the pin from the anchor of the first chain. “Get your wings in gear, in the meantime, we’ll have to skedaddle as fast as your wings can carry us!” He finished the other pin; one paw was free.

  “Don’t wiggle, I’m gonna get your other leg out,” Andy turned to the dragon. People were running toward the menagerie from the palace. An arrow pierced the ground right next to him. Another couple of blows with the hammer. That’s it, the paw is free! “Break the chains, we’ve gotta scram! His peacock majesty won’t forgive me for burning his house down!”

  Suddenly, Andy was hit with excruciating pain as arrows with green feathers whistled all around him; the watchmen from the wild park appeared at the latticework fence around the menagerie. A strong blow to the back just above the waist floored Andy. He wanted to dart out of the way, but his legs weren’t working. He couldn’t feel his body below the waist at all. He stretched his arm around his back, touching the shaft of the arrow buried in him.

  With a loud cracking sound, the dragon’s cage burst into pieces. Pieces of the powerful chains flew into the watchmen and guards, maiming and killing some of them. A long tongue of flame swept the remaining men away.

  “Get on!” the dragon cried in a strong bass. He put out his right front leg for Andy to climb on. “A-rei, what’s wrong?|

  The dragon’s head appeared over Andy, pouring his back and legs with dark blood from the broken chain. The dragon carefully pulled on the arrow. The shaft easily parted with the leaf-shaped tip which remained in the wound.

  “Hold on!” he shouted to Andy, right in his ear, and carefully lifted him from the ground. His gigantic wings spread open, and his back legs pushed him off the ground. The dragon took flight, gently squeezing the fragile human body to his wide chest. “Hang in there, A-rei.”

  “My name is Andy. Don’t call me a wolf.”

  ***

  The Marble Mountains, No Man’s Land, the Valley of a Thousand Streams.

  The mighty beating of enormous wings sounded above the house, and the earth shook. “Jagirra! Jagirrr-aah! Are you home? Jagirra!” Karegar’s deep voice called.

  Jagirra placed a large bottle of extract of arachnid on the ledge, wiped her hands on a towel and went into the hallway. Finally! Her heart beat joyfully. The elf wiped away a tear or two. I’ll let him have it now, I will, the old black fart! I’ll teach him to disappear for three weeks! She thought she would lose her mind from the waiting.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in! Yelling my name… Why don’t you fly back to wherever it is you’ve been all this time!” the herbalist scolded, opening the door. The smell of wet dog assailed her elven nose, along with a whole bouquet of other scents; she got queasy. “What garbage dump have you been hanging out in? Go clean yourself up!”

  Jagirra slammed the door, which was immediately smashed into splinters by the dragon’s claws.

  “Are you crazy!?” the enraged woman dashed out the door. A fireball burned in her right hand, lighting up the field in front of her house. “You asked for—.”

  The bright fireball lit up the dragon, and the herbalist was taken aback. Karegar had turned into a sorry sight with shabby scales on his legs and neck, his whole face covered in dried blood, and in his right paw, close to his chest, he was holding some human.

  “Help, Jaga…”

  ***

  Surrounding him like a tight cocoon, some sort of whitish cloud swirled around Andy. Breaking the silence, he heard two voices, as if a far-away echo. He knew one of them—the dragon’s resounding bass. The other belonged to a female.

  “Karegar, you know he’ll perish; there’s nothing we can do to help him!” the woman said in a pleasant alto.

  The dragon’s name is Karegar. It suits him. A black dragon. Who’ll perish? Me? Andy thought. I want to live! I want to go home!

  “He’s still alive and is not ready at all to face Hel’s judgment.”

  A cool palm laid on Andy’s forehead, the white shroud dissolved; he opened his eyes and saw an elderly woman.

  A queen! Someone like her must be a queen from a fairy tale. You could tell. She had an oval-shaped face, a long thin nose, curved brows and big, dark blue, almond-shaped eyes. She was extremely beautiful, her silver hair swept into a tight braid. Topaz sparkled in the tip of her pointy pierced left ear. An elf, the queen of the elves! Behind her, Karegar looked at Andy with a worried look.

  “Like what you see?” she asked, reading all his emotions. She offered him a warm, open smile.

  “Yes. You’re very beautiful.” Andy didn’t try to evade the question and asked right away, “Do I really have no chance at all?”

  The elf turned away. She extracted a white handkerchief from the waist of her simple linen dress and, wiping her hands, answered.

  “Your spine is broken. The tip went right between two vertebrae. I’ve blocked all your painful sensations for now, but not for long. That’s not the worst of it. Your scars are traces of a delayed-action spell. Whoever tortured you added poison from Birim flies and black mushrooms into your wounds. You don’t have any immunity against any sickness now. Do you know what immunity is?” Andy nodded. It was another word in Alat, a different one, but he understood it to mean just that.

  “Your body can no longer fight illness and even the simplest little cold would be fatal to you. We’ve removed the arrow tip. You’ve lived this long because dragon’s blood got on your wound, which neutralized the Watchmen's poison. Karegar, why didn’t you remove it right away?”

  “With what?” the dragon boomed. “This?” he showed his claws. “I would have pulled it out along with the boy’s soul. No blood would have helped.”


  The elf leaned toward Andy once again. “Was it an elf that tortured you?”

  “No, a human.”

  “That’s strange. Forest elves use that torture method, and I’m willing to bet it was actually an elf. It’s a spell interweave too complicated for humans. The low-life. I see you’re not at all afraid of the word death, which I find quite troubling. Young people, your age should think differently about mortality. How old are you?”

  “Sixteen. I’m not afraid of death. Something happened to me, and I changed; I can’t explain it. Three weeks ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I could kill someone, and now there’s been so many deaths at my hands, I can’t count them right away. But I don’t feel any pangs of conscience. That’s strange for me…it was strange.

  “I’m not afraid to die, but I really want to live. I have a lot going on and….” Andy fell silent, not knowing whether to speak up or not. Karegar and the elf said nothing, respecting his decision. “I really want to return to my world; I’m not from here. And I want revenge on Nirel. One thing makes me glad; I zapped some lightning in his chest.”

  Karegar snickered, picturing it, and the elf grew pensive. His words about being from another world had no effect on them at all.

  “I just can’t accept it, Jaga. I can’t have death on my conscience twice! Please understand!”

  “Lightning?” Jagirra asked after a long pause, ignoring the dragon. “Show me.”

  Andy relaxed, slipping into a trance in his already familiar fashion. He extended his arm to the side, and a short bolt of lightning smashed a low tree trunk five feet away into small bits and dust.