by Alex Sapegin
Jaga once again turned thoughtful, periodically casting quick glances at either Andy or Karegar, who paced in circles.
“I could be wrong, but when he went into a trance, I saw all the elements in his aura. We could try the Ritual,” she said, drawing out the last word a little.
The dragon stopped in his tracks and jerked his tail sharply, knocking down two young birch trees. His long claws came out and cut up the turf he was standing on.
“You know about the incarnation Ritual?” Jaga nodded. “All right, let’s!”
“What incarnation ritual?” Andy asked.
“It’s a Ritual—” Jagirra began, but Karegar interrupted her.
“I suggest you become a dragon! You’ll be the first person in three thousand years to complete the incarnation Ritual!” Karegar began dancing on the spot. A slap to the paw with a towel made him stand still. Andy smiled watching them. Jaga’s cheeks became flushed as if she had been caught kissing the dragon.
“You could…eh…” Andy couldn’t formulate his thought.
“You could die…” The elf understood him without words. “There’s a fifty percent chance of that, but without the Ritual, you have no chance at all.”
“How does the incarnation work?”
Jagirra asked about what knowledge Andy had of the human body. He explained that his grandmother had been a doctor—a healer in their world—and he had been looking at medical textbooks for several years already. Thanks to Alo, he was fluent enough in their language to translate his previous knowledge.
Jagirra nodded. “The point of the Ritual is to infuse the human with a special extract taken from a special gland in the dragon. There are some other ingredients, too, that you don’t need to know about. What’s important is that you meet two conditions: a lack of immunity and the ability to accept external energy streams.
“During the Ritual, nature and magic come together to infuse every part of the human with this special mixture. The human begins to change, every cell in his body rewired by the elixir until his human body is transformed into one of the winged creatures. There must be no immunity within the human body to fight the transformation.
“During the ritual, the person repeats all the dragon’s stages of life—outside the womb. As skeletal and skin changes take place, he won’t be able to move from the spot. An influx of energy and constant monitoring by others are required at all stages. Dragons’ beings are half-magical, and if the person can’t take on external energy, well, you understand… The problem is that no one has ever performed the incarnation with humans or elves older than five years old. That is, they performed it, but…”
“Why not?” Andy asked.
“Older children cannot take on external energy, and if they can, they generally can’t control most of it, and with their larger bodies, most can’t endure the pain. When incarnation takes place, the person undergoes horrible, excruciating pain. The older the person, the more the body fights the change. You’re a match for almost all the main parameters, except age and weight. Morally, you’re prepared to die, but you want to survive even more. You don’t have any immunity, and your physical reaction is suppressed. Do you agree to try?”
“I agree!” Andy had decided during the lecture. He wanted to live, regardless the form.
“I’ll get ready and prepare the ingredients. And you,” she pointed at Karegar, “take the boy to the hot springs and wash him and yourself well. He needs to be ready in five hours.”
Jaga leaned over Andy and ran her hands through her hair, her fingers parting the gray locks.
***
Karegar was groaning in the meadow in front of the cave; Jaga had cut off a couple of scales at the base of his neck and stuck a magical silver tube with a collection instrument at the tip under the scruff of his neck. Another “prick” had been done at the base of his tail.
On a silver tray near the plank Andy was lying on, Jaga laid syringes with silver needles. Only instead of little tubes, they had specially formed intestines. In silver-plated flasks covered with a magical glimmer visible to the naked eye, dragon’s blood mixed with extracts from his glands and brain.
“Are you ready?” Andy closed his eyes. “It won’t hurt when I insert the tube; I’ll block any unpleasant sensations. But later on…. The most important thing is to endure and live through the recreation of your nervous system. The pain will be terrible. If you can survive that, consider yourself a dragon. The process of building the body is a long one.”
Jaga lifted the “shot.”
He felt a slight prick at the base of his neck and the middle portion of his spine, and then an injection into the vein in his left hand.
***
The pain swept over him in waves, with each wave higher than the last. He was drowning in an ocean of pain, and in order not to lose himself in that hellish world, Andy created a point that he called “I” and held on to it as to a lifesaver. He didn’t know how long the painful torment lasted, but at some point, the red ocean disappeared and he opened his eyes.
It was as if he were viewing the world around him in a fun-house mirror covered in tulle. The elf leaned over him. She had bags under her eyes, red capillaries showing in the whites of her eyes, and wrinkles from fatigue on her face. She stroked Andy’s forehead and smiled.
“You’ve done it. We’ve done it. Happy birthday, dragon. Now, rest.”
Part 5: Wings on my back.
The Marble Mountains, No Man’s Land, the Valley of a Thousand Streams.
“Are you awake already?”
“I wasn’t asleep.” Andy looked at Jagirra. Judging by her appearance, she hadn’t been sleeping either. The same fatigue that was written on her face a few hours ago was still there. The one thing that had changed was her dress and hairdo. Her hair was now braided into several braids, intricately intertwined. Instead of yesterday’s dress, the elf wore a colorful jumper and apron. Karegar slept at the entrance to the cave. His noisy breathing called to mind a blacksmith's bellows.
“Now you’ll need to sleep as much as possible.”
“The life of a lazy cat. Eat, sleep. Sleep, eat. A depressing prospect.”
“Get used to it. There’s no way to change anything now. You’ll have to live that way for a couple months.” Jagirra rolled a wide block of wood over to his couch and sat down beside him, resting her hands on her knees.
“I can’t get used to the fact that I’m turning into a dragon.” Andy shrugged and stared at the cave roof, which was supported by stalagmites.
The elf laughed, threw the blanket aside and turned him to his left side. Andy was surprised by the strength of her elegant little arms. Jagirra examined his back, disfigured by scars, and touched the injection sites with her fingers. She squeezed the pink scar from the where the arrow had entered.
“Progress is visible. Toward dinner time or late tonight at the latest, you’ll feel your rear becoming sinewy. Remarkable regeneration is taking place. Honestly, I just about buried you. The changes in the nervous system should go on for not more than twenty-four hours, and it’s been four days. What was I supposed to think? But Karegar was always by your side and didn’t allow me to walk away for a minute. He…he believed in you.” Jaga went silent and looked at the sleeping dragon.
Andy tried to remember her description of the process, but when he asked her questions, she didn’t seem to understand some of his terms for the body.
Jagirra soothed him and said, “Think for a minute and say them in Alat. You can’t, can you?” the elf saw his struggle. “I could tell right away that your knowledge of the language had been planted through unnatural means, but the one who did it was a true master of his trade. My mentor was a pretty good sharp wit, so I know a thing or two about this. Unfortunately, the Ritual robbed you of that mage’s hard work.”
“What should I do?” Andy asked in alarm.
“Nothing. Just read good books, have conversations in Alat more often, and in a year from now, everything will be differe
nt for you, all by itself.” Jagirra smiled.
“I have another question.”
“Ask.”
“Karegar said I was the first person to undergo the Ritual in three thousand years. Why? Is it so hard to find candidates for this? It worked on me…”
“You know, I didn’t expect these kinds of questions from a teenager.” Jagirra tucked the blanket under him at his chest and said nothing. Andy waited patiently for her to answer. It was impossible to find anything out from the look on her face, but he suspected she was thinking hard about something because she avoided eye contact.
“It’s harder than you can possibly imagine. Even if you don’t count the limitations I was telling you about, there’s a whole pile of other barriers. Like the existence or lack thereof of a mage who can perform the preparatory work; there are no more left after certain tragic events three millennia ago. I suspect I’m the last that kind in Ilanta. Second, the recipient should be a mage who unites all the elements within himself. Do you know how many fully universal mages there are? One in thirty thousand! Both you and I am incredibly lucky to be a part of that infinitesimal percentage of people capable of carrying out the incarnation.”
“And what happened three thousand years ago?”
“Let’s be done with questions for today, okay? I promise we’ll tell you about what happened, definitely, because your life will be directly connected to all of that. Now, what you need to think about is how to learn settage as fast as you can. The physical changes that will begin in a day or two are part of a long and painful process, interconnected with several unpleasant aspects, and a lot depends on your ability to immerse yourself in your inner space and control your body functions. We’ll begin lessons after you get some sleep.”
The elf suddenly recalled something and pulled a dull metallic coin-shaped object about as big as her palm from the folds of her jumper. “It’s a kran and allows you to record your memories and keep a diary. I’ll show you how it works. You’ll need it. Now, sleep.” Jagirra touched Andy’s forehead ever so slightly, and he collapsed, melting into a soft, cozy fog where pain and suffering did not exist.
Jaga spoon-feeds me! So awful! ‘Take a bite for Mommy, take a bite for Daddy. Don’t spit it out. It’s such yummy porridge, I’d eat it myself!’ Ugh! I would never eat porridge flavored with a good portion of crushed chalk, bone flour, and charcoal ashes if it weren’t for this beastly appetite of mine… I’m gagging, but I’m eating. The bodily changes she was talking about didn’t start two days later; sooner than that. Jaga was wrong. All my joints are breaking and turning, my back’s getting wrung out like a wet rag, my elbows are swollen to the size of my knees, and my fingers are like sausages. It hurts to move my jaw. They attached the kran to my temple; Jaga gave me her coin. Now, I’m like an autonomous module; I lay on this block of wood and think…
Regarding my complaints of this beastly, hellish itching at my tailbone, Karegar said, “It’s nothing. You’re just starting to grow a tail.” Oh geez, if only I could scratch it. But my arms won’t budge. “It’s an unpleasant part,” he said. Kill me now!
Just deal with it. Good things come to those who wait. My skeleton is being rebuilt. Soon, all my organs will be rebuilt, and then… I’m afraid to think what it’ll be like then.
It’s day three of Jaga getting me into a state of settage. It’s awesome! It’s a cool thingamabob; you look at your own insides. There are rivers of blood, everything around you is burning, moving, it’s as if the energy channels are glowing with high-voltage power lines. I thought the channels follow nerve cords, as Jaga says, but I’m different from other dragons and mages. I have a separate system complete with loops and distribution of currents. The channels connect to the cords through thousands and millions of tiny capillaries; it’s like a whole galaxy lighting up. Really neat. The points of energy accumulation and my magical reserves, well, they look like gigantic cisterns. True, they only contain a small drop. My granny elf is amazed. What do I need such a container for? As if I know? On the other hand, who couldn’t use some extra for a rainy day? Having some extra ammunition just in case won’t hurt.
Every time I dive in, she breaks the trip down into stages and makes me memorize the sequence for how to do it. She doesn’t believe that I already remembered everything from the second time and have been taking dips of my own. “That’s impossible! The changes facilitate an improvement in memory, but not to that extent!” But whatever. She promises that, in a week, she’ll explain and show me how to use my body. I wish it were sooner; I can’t take it anymore.
It’s getting cold out. I thought it was summer year-round here. It turns out there is a winter, but probably the kind they have in tropical countries. It’s cooling off and starting to rain often; there’s a little snow up in the mountains. But it doesn’t bring me any relief. My body is breaking and twisting beyond belief. It’s like living in a meat mincer every day. How long can this go on? A month has gone by in a flash. Settage is good, but I can’t be there all the time. You alleviate one nerve ending, another starts acting up, and it goes on like that for hours. And yet, I rush into it very quickly and easily now. But there’s no point to it.
Yesterday, my pelvic bones cracked, and my ribs started to chatter. My last teeth fell out three days ago. We’ve cut out the lessons for now; I’m training myself. Before I lost my voice, Jaga showed me a couple techniques for using true vision. That’s another thing; I spent two days getting the hang of the simplest technique. Today it finally worked out. To make it stick, all day today, I’ve been using only true vision. It’s like looking at the world through snake eyes. You see heat and energy contours. All objects glow in a unique way, and there are these strange pulsating lines around things. Jaga says those are the world’s energetic connections. I believe that because outside the cave I think I can sense a magnetic field. You could send me to Canada now like a goose, I wouldn’t get lost.
It’s interesting to look at Dad’s aura; it’s big and glows with all colors of the rainbow. Will mine be like that? Too bad I can’t ask for the time being. Karegar doesn’t know that’s what I call him in my head. I never thought a dragon would act like a soccer mom—always buzzing around me and fussing over me—but he does. Jaga looks at my four-legged nurse and laughs, but I can see it in her eyes, it’s as if her heart’s being ripped out and she’s full of longing. It’s impossible to tell anything about her from her aura, just like Daddy. Jaga’s constantly covered with a dark cocoon. She keeps her defenses up.
We’re studying the Younger Edda. She brought a thick folio and said, “Any self-respecting dragon ought to speak Edda, and you need to keep your brain occupied with work, so please commit this to memory.” She started reading the words aloud and translating them. It turns out I know a lot of words, which I’m trying to tell them, blinking a lot and growling. Karegar realized what it was I was saying and told the elf. Idiot. I should have kept it to myself. “Ahh, that’s even better; we’ll study writing then.” In an hour, a blackboard stood in front of my face. If you understand, nod. If not, blink. Now, I’m blinking and nodding, nodding and blinking.
For the third day in a row now, my old skin has been cracking and breaking. A sticky fluid and slime is constantly pouring out. My insides are burning. A new skin is starting to grow in the form of little coins. It’s beginning… For a week now, I’ve been either too hot or too cold, but my body’s not breaking anymore as it was. It’s all mixed up, but calmed down a bit. I’m constantly in settage. Otherwise, I start whining and growling. Dad runs around, jerks his wings and looks into my eyes wanting to help in any way. Jaga has grown thin. My neck’s stretched out five feet, my tail even longer. My skull and face are transforming into a dragon’s snout, my lower and upper jaws are extending forward, and my eye sockets are moving to the sides. My nose and ears have simply fallen off, like a syphilitic. Behind my head, on my skull, the collar of bone is cutting into my skin. I mustn’t jerk my head. Jaga says tendons are forming, and I’ll just
have to stand it. They feed me beef bouillon, porridge made of ground-up chalk, charcoal, and some sort of stone through a tube made of intestine. I already weigh 650 pounds. I’m like a hero from a horror film, oozing slime. I’m so freakin’ cold I can’t stand it. I hope my voice comes back fast. I’ll freeze to death, and no one will know what I died of!
I’m lying on my stomach. They turned me over yesterday and holy moly; they ripped a third of my skin off in the process. The old, the new? Who knows? Both. Now, you could take me to a senior-level anatomy class and use the bare spots to study muscles. I’m looking at what used to be my arms. Thank God they finally let me turn my head. My long ostrich’s neck lets me look at my own back. My fingertips are swollen; claws are coming in. It’s just peachy. You could say the main changes in my limbs are pretty much coming to a conclusion. My butt’s stopped making loud crackling sounds, but my insides are still like a furnace. I’ll be able to talk soon. Jaga inspected my mouth and throat. She says my vocal cords are almost all the way formed, but I’m not sure. I check it through settage a hundred times every day. In the past couple days, my heart has gotten a lot bigger and moved to the left; I think another one is forming on the right side. New capillaries are coming in around my lungs, and they’re changing themselves or doing something I can’t quite understand. On my chest, along my ribs, some sort of muscles are growing, it’s strange… I can’t figure it out yet.
I’m so incredibly sick of the cold from my external environment, and the burning furnace inside doesn’t help. Wings are piercing my back; I can feel the tendons and muscles forming along my spine and on my sides. The shoulder blades on my front paws are tugging horribly; they’re moving backward, freeing up space under the shoulder blades of my wings. On my back legs, the joints that attach them to my pelvis are changing. I weigh about 1,000 pounds at this point, maybe as much as 1,100. Jaga’s concerned I’m gaining weight too quickly. The organs should form first, and for me, it’s all happening at the same time, in unison. Not a trace of my human face is left. Hello, two-foot-long dragon snout! I’m waiting in fear of the day my teeth start sprouting! We’ve studied all the runes, now working on writing words. I blink, and I nod, I nod, and I blink… Soon my head’ll fall off…
