Mythic Transformations

by Kris Schnee

  Over a thousand people's homes huddled for warmth on a hill's slope, like a little version of mighty Bogatyr. Ivan and Liet and their men -- and their horses which had been men -- wound through fields of rye. Ivan scowled when he realized that this was the local Baron's main estate, and that his mansion stood here. Ivan said, "We'll be doing this under his lordship's nose."

  "Perfect," said Liet. "We can appeal to him or to his people."

  "They won't hate him, you know. A bandit chief is nicest to his neighbors."

  Liet nudged her horse ahead along the dirt trail. "So, we'll go to him first."

  That much was easy. They had not even reached the town when they spotted five riders, one carrying an orange banner on a spear. Ivan had his group stand in line abreast, just in case.

  "Agents of the Dragon of the East, I take it," said the Baron. He had a gigantic mustache and a sash embroidered with griffins. Those creatures supposedly ate horses.

  Liet took over. "Your grace, I bring greetings on behalf of the Dragonlord. He is aware of your hesitation to join him earlier, and understands completely. As you can see, he is now able to work miracles." She gestured to herself and Ivan. "My lord's new power bolsters his case that God has chosen him to rule this land, and more to the point, that he can protect you and your people more effectively than some distant Tsar."

  The Baron tugged at his mustache, hiding his expression. "He makes wolves, now? Were you man or beast before?"

  "Human," said Liet. "Is there anyone in your household who is old or sick, who might benefit from a new body?"

  The Baron glanced aside as though trying to measure the shadow of the unseen Tsar. "There may be. But what I hear is that you two are not making wolves as you pass through my lands."

  Caught, thought Ivan. This nobleman must have some good, swift informers. He had another man hiding in tall grass downwind, too. Clever.

  Liet said, "No. The form of wolves is reserved for those he most favors, such as any of your own household. He has sent us instead to purchase horses. Whether they be horses or men today."

  "Interesting. Do you believe, then, that God is on your master's side?"

  "Of course," said Liet. Her tail ducked in a way that the owner of any dog would recognize as hidden guilt. Ivan felt his own do the same thing.

  "And you?" the Baron said to Ivan.

  "I don't presume to speak for God."

  "Well said. In any case, we have no horses to spare, nor men. My own lord commands me to the field soon with as many as I can muster. He would be surprised if I arrived with fur, though I expect I'll envy you come winter."

  Liet said, "Bring us women and children, or ponies unfit for combat. We have a quota to meet, and will reward you."

  The Baron leaned forward conspiratorially on his own silver mare. "Is that it? This dragon of yours sent you to market with a shopping list -- so many horses from every town in my land? That seems less like a friendly gesture than like wagging your tails in my face. Taking my people away." There was a scent of anger.

  "They were all volunteers, and we paid handsomely," said Liet.

  Ivan added, "These were people who wanted our help. The process makes them young and healthy again."

  "Yet they only get to be these." The Baron stared at the horses that were still traveling with Liet and Ivan. "I can't tell which were human. You must have impressed that dragon to have become talking wolves instead. What did you do to earn his trust, to be the ones on top of the saddle?"

  Ivan felt the insides of his pointed ears burn. His hands held the reins tighter. "We served."

  The Baron looked delighted. "As I suspected! It's something you don't want to admit. I've had men ask for promotion by boasting of their battles, or of being good at administering beehives and forests. Worthy accomplishments. But you two remain silent."

  "Enough!" said Liet. She lowered her voice again. "If you have no desire to make a deal today, that's all right. We will attend to our mission in the town, among your people."

  "The hell you will."

  Liet said, "You care about your people, don't you? If they come to us and say 'make us healthy, make us young', would you tell them no? Would you kill them rather than let them make their own decision?"

  The Baron started to speak, tugged at his mustache, and spoke at last. "Your group is not welcome here. These are my people. That is all." He turned away too late to hide his expression, giving Ivan a moment's satisfaction. The man was as nettled as Ivan himself.

  The Baron's party wheeled around and rode back toward the manor house, but Ivan saw the hidden man in the grass continue to watch. Ivan signaled to Liet: "Not safe. What now?"

  The white wolf stifled a growl. "Camp at the outskirts, to save face and think."

  * * *

  They rode to within arrow-shot of the town and pitched the great tent. No one came to them. The horse-wrangling soldiers smelled nervous. One of them spoke up: "When will we go in, sirs?"

  Liet said, "I have a plan. You're dismissed." She turned to Ivan. "We must get our horses. Tonight there will be plenty of shadows, and the Baron's men won't spot you. Go to the people and make our offer directly to them."

  The plan was sensible and dreadful. Ivan walked behind their tent, shed his clothes, and put his hands to the ground. He willed his body to join with the shadows. He stretched and shrank and felt his thumbs shift away, his face tilt forward to become a wolf's entirely. The night grew brighter for him and filled even more with the smell of crops and the filth that all towns had. He let a guard tie a padded money pouch to one of his hindlegs. Then he was off, trotting toward Bolshoy, afraid of what he had become.

  Ivan crept through the night, murmuring to himself. "The dark wolf comes to take you away, to bring you bright silver coins in return for what you are. The bright wolf comes to take you away, to threaten you with the shadow of leathery wings." Ivan prowled, perked his ears, and sought out houses that might let him in. "You can have the dimness of an animal's mind, or the brightness of burning houses. Your free choice!"

  He smelled anger and blood. They took him toward a wealthy house where he could hear a man beating someone. In time, the door opened and someone fell out into the dirty street. The door slammed shut again, so that Ivan was face to face with the weeping, battered teenage boy who'd been shoved from his home.

  "Hello," said Ivan through sharp teeth. "My master offers you his help. Come to the tent outside this town if you want a better life."

  There was a cutpurse walking the street too. Ivan gave him a wolf smile and said the same thing. The man backed away and ran -- but he dashed in the direction of the camp. Ivan counted him as a maybe. Then there was the drunk puking his life away in the alley behind the tavern, who made Ivan cover his nose. Ivan awkwardly pulled out a shiny coin and bought his attention. That was two or three. Enough to justify sparing this town. In the morning the people might spread tales of a Beast Tsar who prowled the street and led unhappy folk away, never to be seen again.

  "What's that? It's one of them, somehow! You, stop!" Ivan found himself caught in the beam of a hooded lantern, flashing over his eyes. He cursed and ran from the Baron's guards. Plenty of shadows. He led the men on a chase that distracted them from his new recruits. His own cleverness backfired, though, by putting him in an alley between two shouting men.

  Ivan said, "I was just leaving." He sized up the guards that towered over him. Their spears trembled. He could end this night with violence, but decided there was enough in the world already. "I hurt no one and stole nothing. And look: money!" He whipped off the coin pouch and flung it at the wall beside him. Glittering coins splashed. The guards charged. Ivan sensed that one man was going for the coins, and dodged past him. Escape!

  Ivan hurried out of sight and then slinked the rest of the way. All three of his recruits were making their way toward the tent and the wolf who could make them -- more? Or less? It didn't matter, so long as it was their own decision to make.

  Ivan changed back a
nd dressed. Liet was watching, saying, "That was quick."

  Ivan said, "It was close. The Baron's men were there."

  The three townsfolk listened to Liet's offer. The drunk, the weeping boy and the thief all seemed incredulous despite talking with two "Beast Tsars" bearing the crest of the Dragonlord. One legend was as fantastic as another. Ivan added something to Liet's speech: "There's a wider world beyond your town. We can show it to you."

  "At a price," the cutpurse said.

  Liet smiled. "One that involves free food and a warm roof and people to love you for the rest of your life."

  The disowned boy said, "Can we... could we pick exactly what kind of horse?"

  The white wolf caused her hands to glow like shrouded moonlight. Ivan sensed that she'd been verbally feeling the three out like a sharp merchant. "For you? Certainly. I'm thinking... a sleek black coat and a silver mane. Perhaps a mare?"

  His eyes widened. "That's perfect."

  The drunk shook his head hard enough to dizzy himself. "No way, dogs. I ain't no mare with a damn saddle on my back." He started staggering back downhill toward the town.

  "That's not a problem, sir," said Liet. "We can make you a nice big stallion instead. Chestnut and brown? Picture everyone watching you in a parade, and how proud you'd be."

  The stinking man looked back over his shoulder, trying to focus his eyes on Ivan and Liet. "A parade?"

  "Through the capital of our empire, with the Dragonlord himself passing out medals and a wreath just for you."

  The man stood there breathing foully for a moment. "I... ain't never had a party for me. I'd like that someday." That was two.

  The robber said nothing. He only began creeping away. Liet spotted him. "Sir, come back!" Then she turned to Ivan with sudden panic in her scent. "Bring him back! Even three is barely enough."

  Ivan hurried downhill after him. "Wait. We can pay you, or your family."

  "Got no family. Leave me alone."

  Liet called out, "A pure white horse, brave and battle-hardened?"

  "No, you crazy bitch!"

  Ivan chased him and seized the man's arm. He had to suppress an instinct to dive, to bite his prey's legs. It was easy to swat aside the kicks and knock a knife out of the thief's hands. It was harder to justify to himself what he was doing. "Shut up and listen to Liet," he said. "She's got a good plan for you. Just listen."

  "I did. I've got no use for money if I've got no damn fingers. Now let go."

  Liet caught up. "Okay, not a white war horse. Something stealthy and dark?"

  The thief broke out of Ivan's grip. He took a swing at Liet's face, saying, "No!"

  Liet growled and touched him with glowing hands. The thief's fingers, long and delicate and scarred, began to shrink away. All but one, with a swollen, darkening nail...

  Ivan said, "Liet, wait!"

  "It's already started," she said, gritting her teeth in concentration.

  "Stop it!" the thief shouted. "Don't do this! I don't want it!" His arm thickened and dark hairs sprouted all along his skin, under strained fabric. The man was gouging at his own skin with his other hand as though he could pry his fingers back to the right length.

  Ivan smelled fresh blood under the thief's fingernails. He let go of the man and gave him a shove away from Liet and her magic. When Liet started forward, Ivan got in her way. But the thief was changing faster now. His chest barreled out until his clothes shredded around him. The man ran as fast as he could, but stumbled. He could only stand and take another few steps before his spine rearranged. The change forced his head lower down and his misshapen hands back to the ground.

  Ivan said, "Undo this. Now."

  Liet's tail hid between her legs, and her ears were low. "I can't."

  Ivan pushed Liet down after the man. "Figure it out!" She staggered and stopped just short of the thief. She and Ivan were just in time to watch his darkening face stretch out, and to hear a long scream that faded into a horse's whinny. The man was down on all fours, covered in sweaty hair and rags, and he would never stand upright again. He would never be even a thief. Those dark eyes glittered in the night, fully aware that part of his mind was fading behind them.

  Ivan stared. "Can't you...?"

  "No," said Liet.

  Ivan crouched in the grass, on all fours himself, and spewed his dinner onto the hillside. He tasted acid and smelled a frightened animal that his instincts said was prey. And so it was.

  The white wolf said, "We needed him. We already explained it's what's best for him, and it was for the sake of the town too. He'll be happier this way. I had to change him so that he could find out what it's like. Once he's used to it --"

  "You're babbling," said Ivan. He wiped his muzzle, then his arm. He could hear the frightened horse and the men who were coming to grab it, to slip reins onto its head for the first time.

  "I had to do it, Ivan! I was helping!"

  Ivan sat up, feeling cold wind cut through his fur. "Liet? What did Vladimir ask you to do, to join the Black Riders?"

  "To stab myself there and then, and trust them. The Dragonlord was waiting for me."

  "He always is, isn't he? For anyone who wants a master."

  "I... I need to attend to the others." Liet went back to the other two recruits and gave them her best smile. "There's no need to worry. Hold still."

  They did. Ivan still didn't trust himself to stand up without getting dizzy and sick again. By God, those two men stood there and took it rather than fleeing for their lives! They would make good horses.

  Soon there were two beautiful and dignified new animals. One of the Black Riders' guards approached Ivan and saluted. He was leading the third horse by its bridle. "Excuse me, sirs. There will be more from this town, right?"

  "No!" said Ivan. "Buy some, or even steal them. I don't care. We're not making more this way, not here."

  Ivan sent their men into town, but the result was worse than before. "Sirs, the guards are too alert for stealing, and the word is out that any man who sells a horse sells his head."

  "They're stubborn," said Liet. "We pushed them too far."

  Ivan scowled. "Then we're done here. We ride to Bogatyr."

  The guard said, "But the quota..."

  Ivan loomed over the little man and growled until he shut up.

  Liet said, "I agree. We've done the essence of our orders: get horses, with a strong suggestion that we get them using the spell our lord gave me. We've strengthened the Opritchnina's position for when our lord claims this land."

  Ivan thought aloud. "It never was about the horses, or about helping people. It was about taking control and making people love us for it." He caught sight of the third new horse, who no longer resisted. It would be the love of slaves for a kind master.

  "We need to burn the town, sirs." The little guard looked into Ivan's eyes. "Orders. We can do it and escape."

  Ivan shook his head. "We ride back east."

  * * *

  The next morning, the soldier and the swiftest horse were gone. Ivan sniffed the trail. "He's gone ahead to inform on us. Maybe Petrov will make him a rat."

  The trip home passed quietly, except for the nightmares that woke Ivan up in Liet's arms. "Will he understand?" he said, when she tried to comfort him. The Dragonlord was not kind or generous.

  Liet nuzzled his shoulder and brushed her nose through soft fur. "He wants what's best for everyone. We'll make him see."

  Ivan shuddered. He forced away thoughts of the Dragonlord towering over him, and focused his mind and hands on Liet.

  * * *

  Cold wind and the scent of forges. Ivan saw Bogatyr by night as a fuming mountain, pushing up from the world and glowing with smoke and steel. The city walls were a little higher now. The people were building them with love and enthusiasm for Petrov, their master.

  Vladimir questioned Liet and Ivan in his office. The next evening, the Dragonlord sent for them.

  The two wolves walked the last mile up the trail. Petrov waited in th
e cliffside cave, lighting it with the red glow between his scales. Alexi was there as though she had never moved. Petrov said, "Tell your story." His tailtip shined like a branding iron.

  Liet did. Ivan added, "We've expanded your control over the region."

  The forge-dragon's head loomed closer. "I believe I told you to burn."

  Liet said, "Yes, sir. But we obtained horses from the towns, won goodwill from most of them, and showed your power at the last. Killing people wouldn't have accomplished anything at that point."

  Ivan thought of the elite order he'd joined. "Sir, the Black Riders have the potential to be known as heroes or villains. The people have begun to tell tales about us already, to call us Beast Tsars and to say we command magic in the name of a mighty lord. So far we've done what we can to make that legend a pleasant one."

  The Dragonlord shouted, "Fool!" Flames licked around his muzzle. Ivan felt the wash of heat and the scent of embers. He stood very still. Petrov said, "I have a plan. I made the Black Riders to be a weapon, one that brings benefits to the obedient and horror to those who defy me. I made you wolves, not rabbits!"

  Ivan found himself panting. He and Liet stank of fear already. "It was my decision not to burn the town." He looked to Alexi; he would not blame her for protecting the innocent.

  Petrov said, "Oh. You're defending your partner. How touching. I'm also told that you let a man go."

  Ivan shuddered, thinking of the thief who tried to flee. "Also my decision. We don't want to force people --"

  A massive forefoot slammed Ivan sideways into the stone wall. Ivan heard Liet shriek somewhere amid the whirl of pain. Petrov gouged his chest with one claw and flipped him over to land on his back. Ivan stared up at the burning eyes. Petrov said, "You dare tell me what I want?" The head loomed closer, and the voice grew louder until it began to burn Ivan's fur. "What did you think I meant when I said you're mine?!"

  Ivan tried to speak, but the breath had been slammed from his lungs and he could only rasp. Petrov looked to one side at Liet. "Heal him."