Mythic Transformations

by Kris Schnee

  The Dragonlord spread his wings to touch the cave's walls. Firelight lived in them and exiled the shadows. "Friend of yours?"

  Ivan nodded. It took more of his will to avoid looking at Laika's head than to keep from running away from the massive, glowing dragon. The killing had been a merciful act for a dog already sickly and dying of old age, with Ivan not far behind. It was better for Ivan to live than for both of them to die. Or so the officer had argued.

  The dragon's nostrils emitted steam. "Vladimir is creative with his tests."

  Ivan finally noticed that there was a woman, hidden like a dim moon beside the sun. She was much more human, standing on two legs and no larger than Ivan himself. Her scales were white and soft blue. She approached Ivan and took the scroll from him with clawed hands, then paused to look at him. She was with child. Ivan felt a moment of vertigo, as though the world had expanded. He'd come home to the sleepy mining village he'd left decades earlier, to find not just a sorcerous dragon and a mighty city, but still more dragons on the way! Maybe she was slowly changing from a woman into a dragon. It was said that the Dragonlord -- Petrov was his name -- had once been a man. Again he resolved to live longer, to see what new wonders there could be.

  The dragoness held the scroll up to Petrov's left eye. The Dragonlord rumbled. "As I thought. My lieutenant says you're a former mercenary with a good head on his shoulders. You wish to be young and healthy again? Then join my Black Riders."

  Ivan straightened, feeling the weight of years seem to lift from him already. He guessed: "The wolves outside?"

  Petrov tapped dagger-length claws on the floor. "Exactly. You wouldn't cross one of them, would you? You'll have the brains of a man, and be healthier than you ever were while killing some tribe of goat-screwing bandits or bowing to your local Tsarevich bastard. You like hounds, yes? All I ask is that you become mine."

  Ivan stood in the hot cavern, staring at the dragon. He'd come this far; he'd made a sacrifice. If the Dragonlord wanted to change him, it was worth accepting. He lowered himself to his creaking knees and said, "Yes, my lord."

  Petrov smiled and shrank. Ivan startled. The Dragonlord had become human, a young man in flame-colored robes. He paced around Ivan, casting shifting shadows. "What shall I try? I've been experimenting with my powers. I could make you a nice stealthy black wolf, or white with powers of healing and inquisition, or red for battle. Maybe a she-wolf? They can fight. Or even a pup that I can put through a few extra years of training."

  So many possibilities, instead of death from a long, rough life! He'd been a careful fighter, prowling the edge of battle. "Black, please?"

  Petrov nodded as though it were a request for breakfast. Then he spoke a word that seemed to set Ivan on fire. Ivan yelled and collapsed to the stone floor, writhing.

  He lay on his back, panting. His tongue hung out to one side of the muzzle that filled the middle of his vision. Ivan slurred when he tried to swear. He sprang to two feet before he'd even realized how quick and easy the motion was. Young again! His new claws traced over dark fur that made him shiver.

  Petrov inspected him. "Congratulations. If you serve well, I will find other rewards for you. See Vladimir for housing and other arrangements. I feel like flying." He strode past Ivan and grew again, transforming, springing onto four clawed dragon feet. Molten iron dripped and sizzled on his growing wings. He gave a roar of joy and might. Then the great burning eyes turned to him again on a serpentine neck, and Ivan's new lord said, "You and I will build a better world together." Petrov flew away, leaving a final wave of hot air against Ivan's new fur and shredded clothes.

  Ivan stared. Decades of life, granted so casually! A miracle! He murmured, "Thank you, Laika."

  His ears flicked, another new sensation. The dragon-woman was still here. Ivan said, "And you are?"

  "Alexi." Ivan wouldn't have heard her if not for the echo. It was dark here now, but her slitted eyes shined. "His sister."

  Ivan bowed and nearly fell onto all fours. "Thank you for your brother's generosity."

  Her tail hid behind her. "It isn't. He has bought you. Make the best of it."

  "I will, my lady." He realized that he was seeing her, and the table of books and maps beside her, despite the dimness. Wolf's eyes. He had been not only made young, but improved! If he was to serve, he should do it well.

  * * *

  He spent a happy winter in Petrov's city, Bogatyr. Ivan had expected to be feared and shunned for being part wolf, but most people welcomed him in their taverns and shops. He was, after all, a favored agent of Petrov's newborn "Opritchnina," an unofficial empire within the Tsar's empire. At night Ivan watched the black dragon tear into the mountains with fire and claw, carving more space for forges and armies, mines and homes. The Dragonlord had brought the hope of a better future into the world. The people drank their vodka in his honor.

  The training was brutal joy. One morning, Ivan was laughing as he got up from a beating by Ivan's human soldiers. They'd been too quick for him this time! He'd learned to shift into the shadows and become a nearly ordinary wolf, but he'd not quite mastered the trick.

  Vladimir was watching. The agent wore a perfectly white uniform with epaulets like iron scales. "I have proper work for you, at last. You will visit the western border, and buy horses."

  Ivan panted in the cold air, and tilted his head. "You'd have better luck trading with the Kazakhs in the south."

  "You'll be going with Liet. She has her ways. I hope you don't mind working under her." The officer grinned.

  Ivan saw too little of Liet, a white wolf who focused on her own specialized training. He had a different view of the situation than a younger man might have. "I've known bright women who've run shops and managed farms." He flexed his clawed hands. "The wolf gift will give women opportunities, I think. How widespread does our lord plan to make it? Will he change everyone eventually?"

  Vladimir said, "I believe that's the long-term plan. But His Majesty is still learning what he can do, since becoming a dragon. Still stretching his wings, farther and farther." He spoke louder to address the soldiers Ivan had been sparring with. "You are part of a new people, for a new nation. Hail our lord, and hail to you! Take a rest."

  Ivan followed him to the same obsidian office where Vladimir had demanded one small sacrifice. He shuddered. The map of his mission brought up memories too, of being a peasant boy with knowledge of only a tiny circle of reality. He'd imagined that walking for a day beyond his fields would bring him to the land of spirits, of Baba Yaga and Grandfather Frost and the Tsar -- all equally mythical. What would it do to the average peasant to see talking wolves invade their bubble of the ordinary?

  Vladimir broke him from his thoughts. "We want to establish the Opritchnina's control over a bit more territory. Go to these border villages. If you can't meet your horse quota -- I'm sure there will be enough -- you are to put the towns to the torch. Understand?"

  As a Black Rider, Ivan was the hand of Vladimir, who was the left arm of the Dragonlord. The hand does not question its owner.

  * * *

  "Beast Tsars!" The villagers were whispering it. The dozen human troops who'd come with Ivan and Liet tried not to laugh. Ivan's new tail wagged in amusement. There were legends about animal kings and queens. Ivan's ears had already caught the soldiers speculating about him and the white wolf. Actually, she'd been formal enough to make him keep his distance. Perhaps later.

  Liet sat on a midnight-dark horse like Ivan's own, with her pale fur shining in the sunlight. She was busy negotiating. "Not enough horses, you say? That's not a problem." She held out one hand and made it glow. "The Dragonlord has shared his power with me. He can give you a new life of adventure -- as a horse."

  Ivan looked over at her, startled. He and the troops hadn't been told about this!

  Liet hopped down from her steed and strutted. "Is there anyone here who's sick, or old, or lame? I can make them young and healthy again, in my lord's name. Think of it! A chance to see the w
orld and be part of an amazing new nation. Food, travel, affection."

  The villagers were too stunned to answer at first. Then a young man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, saying, "Me! Me!" He had a look of childish glee.

  A frost-bearded man walked forward. The people made way for him. "Good sirs, our people are not for sale." The villagers argued. The old headman said, "No! Would you spit on an icon of the Holy One for money? Would you sell yourself into slavery?"

  Ivan saw Liet's ears flick back and her face struggle to suppress a growl. Liet said, "Let those who are willing, come forth."

  The volunteer was still grinning. "Please, miss. I've always wished!" The elder tried to pull him back, but he wriggled free and bounded up to Liet, too close. "Please!"

  Liet said, "You heard him. Would you deny the boy his dream?"

  The elder shuddered. "The Mishavich boy there is simple. Maybe God meant him to be a horse. But no one else! You're asking men to become less than men."

  "It's their choice," said Liet. "And is it really a lesser life --"

  Ivan winced and tried to interrupt, but Liet went on: "To live as a horse than as a poor peasant, stuck in one little hamlet?"

  The villagers grumbled, closing ranks with the elder. "Is that what you think of us?" the man said. "You oborotyen, you wolves call us subhuman. Mishavich and the sick and old might have no better choice than to go with you, but that wasn't what you were talking about. You think that an able-bodied, sane man would improve his station in life by crouching on the ground at your noble feet and letting you strap a saddle to his back!" The man stepped forward to jab a finger in Liet's direction. "Why is that? Because we're poor? Because you've read more books? Did God appoint you as our master? In fact, does our Baron even know you're here, or are you skulking around like thieving dogs?"

  Ivan heard his soldiers lay hands on their swords. He nudged Liet and flicked his ears and tail to convey, "Let me handle this." He'd been a proud, poor villager once. He said aloud, "We mean no insult. I'm sorry. You are fine men and women, and we meant to offer you help and money. Why don't we just take the sick and old and that boy, the ones who'll most benefit as you said, plus any ordinary horses you want to sell?"

  Liet whispered, "Quota."

  "We'll make it up at the next town." He held his ears and tail at a stern angle.

  Liet drooped. "All right."

  Six people stepped up despite the headman's protest. Liet and Ivan led them to a camp outside town, where the soldiers had pitched a magnificent dragon-patterned tent for their wolfish officers. The volunteers included an ancient man who wept with joy at the prospect of more years of life; Ivan sympathized. There was a woman with ruined, frostbitten legs, and so on. Ivan kept an eye out for trouble, but watched Liet to see exactly what she would do.

  Liet touched the villagers and smiled. Their flesh flowed. Thick hair sprouted from their skin, new muscles bulged, and they looked themselves over in wonder as they grew. The boy cried out in delight when he saw his fingers swelling and merging to give him hooves at last. The six dropped to all fours with their growing muzzles hanging low, and their eyes... Their eyes were turning black. Ivan shivered and looked away. Those soulful, dark marbles made his fur bristle.

  A few minutes later, Liet was brushing them down, reassuring them. Ivan asked quietly, "Do they keep their minds?"

  "Mostly. On our next trip I expect we'll ride some of them instead of our ordinary horses. Nice to have a mount that understands speech and can be trained much more."

  Ivan looked toward the village his presence had touched. It was barely visible through the forest from here, and it had not changed, seemingly. Was this to be a world of wolves and horses? Even the greatest of the new recruits would live in a stable and be ridden.

  * * *

  Another village, years ago. His mercenary band rode in, desperate for food, smelling of blood. The townsfolk said they had nothing to eat, but they were rabbits. The warriors tore into them, biting necks, eating them...

  Ivan woke up yelping. He found bits of flesh stuck to his claws -- no, only a shredded blanket. He sat up, covering his inhuman face with his hands, and panted.

  "What is it?" said Liet. Her eyes shined in the dark.

  Ivan tried to shake the ghostly scent of fire from his mind. "Nightmare. With too much truth in it." He spoke to fill the silence. "My band was hunting a group of Kazakh marauders. We got careless and ran out of food and water. There was a village where we started making demands, first out of desperation, then for fun... God knows I did terrible things as a man. What will I do as a wolf?"

  "You'll make up for it," Liet said.

  "I've been doing that ever since. I don't want to burn any more towns. What will happen when a village says no to Petrov?"

  Liet sat up and put her hand on him. "We'll make the best of the situation, then. Make sure that the people understand what we need, and how they'll benefit. It won't have to turn ugly."

  "I have a new life. I want to use this one well." His breath had slowed, and he could focus on the comforting smells of the safe tent, his belongings, his fellow wolf...

  "We're building a better world," she said. "We ought to enjoy it."

  Ivan's ears perked curiously as he tried to judge Liet's expression. He was surprised by what he saw in her, and by her warm scent. Liet let Ivan tug her closer, onto his lap, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  * * *

  Later, only Ivan was awake. He dressed and crept out of the tent. No lingering nightmares, now. It was the grey hour before dawn. He saw the horses, old and new, staked so they wouldn't run off. Was that really necessary, for the new ones? "Policy," one of the soldiers had said. Ivan looked around the camp, and noticed that their sentry was asleep like everyone else.

  He was about to kick the man, but he heard leaves rustle. Ivan crouched and listened, then crept toward the noise. Just a wizened peasant woman, peeking at his camp from the forest around it.

  She spotted him, somehow, and called out. "Your lordship! Oh, my. The stories of wolves in the forest are true."

  Ivan stood, relaxing a little. She smelled of turnips and there was no sign of anyone else. "What are you doing out here, babushka?"

  The woman leaned closer to peer at him, more curious than afraid. "I suspect your travels will take you to a town called Bolshoy. Its people won't do as you ask. Please, spare them."

  "How did you find us?" said Ivan.

  "I hear tales, good and bad. You Black Riders are becoming a legend. What sort of legend, I don't yet know."

  Ivan circled her and frowned. How had this woman learned he would come here? He sniffed the air and noticed that the rich, earthy scent on her was only on the spot where she stood. She'd left no trail, or even tracks.

  He darted closer and seized her arm, snarling. "You're deceiving me. Explain yourself or I'll fetch my men!"

  The woman gave him a long, sad look... And then she glowed. Ivan hopped away from her. The crone stood straighter and became a tall figure with scales like snow, a long tail, and a dragon's muzzle.

  Ivan fell to one knee. "Lady Alexi? I'm sorry!"

  She smiled. "My brother would be proud of your skills, Sir Ivan. But I really am here to ask for mercy for Bolshoy. Put any blame on me." Her scent had shifted to something otherworldly and cold. "I travel the world in the Dragonlord's name, trying to temper his demands with kindness and justice. I don't think the town ahead will sell you horses. The people are too proud."

  Ivan looked up at the dragon-woman, feeling a knot of worry begin to unravel in his gut. "But I'm under his orders."

  "I'll make him understand." Alexi sighed. "The Opritchnina might become a wonderful country someday, but Petrov is headstrong. He takes what he wants, because he knows he's using it for a good cause."

  Ivan stared at the dragoness. Even now, everyone else lay asleep. Bewitched? His gaze drifted to the swell of Alexi's belly. He remembered that Petrov's sorcery didn't seem to allow for making more drag
ons by magic, not yet. "If I may ask, my lady -- who is the father?"

  Alexi looked down. "The Opritchnina needed more dragons, to increase its might, and the miracle that changed us made only two. I never agreed, of course. But in hindsight it was necessary. For the good of the country."

  Ivan leaned down with both hands on the dirt, stifling the urge to retch. "You want to temper that with mercy and kindness?"

  "He just wants what's best for all of us. Until he can make more dragons the way he does with wolves and horses, it's my duty." She seemed to be speaking to herself. "It's not right for me to complain. I have a good life."

  Ivan shuddered and steadied his stomach. He looked up at her slitted eyes, averted from him. "The Devil never lacks defenders."

  Alexi stepped away from him and bowed, as one might do when leaving a king's presence. She faded into the dark woods. Ivan looked up and saw a white dragon that seemed to tarnish the rosy sky. One who could have been queen of another, better country. Ivan's mission made more sense to him, now. People were raw materials for Petrov's dreams. He'd been sent to give men the dubious gift of becoming beasts, by a man who found it practical and right to rape his sister.

  * * *

  The others stirred soon after Alexi was gone. The sentry stank of fear when he saw Ivan. Ivan whispered to him, "Sleeping on duty? You're forgiven, this time." It wouldn't do to tell him sorcery was at fault.

  Ivan's steps carried him back to Liet in their tent. She saw his expression, so he told her everything. When he was done, he was standing stiffly and she was crouching, claws on a pillow.

  Ivan said, "We need to make this next village see, if we can. I'm not going to burn it." Maybe everything would be fine. His tail wagged for a moment.

  As for the news of Petrov and Alexi, she had already suspected. "We can't undo that. But we can do good work with the power he's given us."

  * * *

  The Black Riders passed through more villages, bringing wonder, enchantment, and money. They always made quota, if barely. Each hamlet had horses for sale, or people willing to sell themselves. Ivan told himself he was helping to build a better world. Then came Bolshoy.