Wings of Change

by Lyn Worthen

  “Oh. I see. Okay then, go on and get dressed. I’ll cross over when you are done and see you back to your mother.”

  “She doesn’t live far from here, Daddy. She can just get home herself,” Mary said.

  “Not going to happen. We will walk her home. I’m not going to leave a young girl out here alone,” he said.

  “Esme, come on to shore now, it’s plenty late and you don’t want to catch a chill,” called another voice, one that sounded like a human woman from the grey darkness on the far side of the creek. Esme tried not to show her surprise – the voice was her mother’s!

  “Okay, Mother!” Esme called out, as if everything was perfectly normal. Mary looked at her in shock. She shrugged her shoulders.

  “If I don’t see you again, it has been amazing knowing you,” Esme whispered.

  “Me too! You will always be my best friend!” Mary whispered back.

  The two girls embraced. Mary walked through the water to her father, and Esme kept to the shadows and concentrated as hard as she could on looking and moving like a human. Esme’s mother was exchanging verbal pleasantries with Mary’s dad from across the river, though he could not see her.

  “Good night, Mary!” Esme called out.

  “Good night, Mary!” her mother repeated from the shadows.

  As she got closer, Esme realized her mother was the shadows. She felt her own form swallowed the by the shadowy illusion that was her mother’s hiding spell. They waited until they heard Mary’s voice, unnaturally loud Esme noticed, retreat into the forest to where she camped with her father.

  “Let’s go home,” Esme’s mother said. She was not even yelling.

  Esme was so dead.

  # # #

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Esme started as soon as they returned home.

  Her mother wrapped her wings around her daughter and held her close.

  “You are not in trouble, Daughter,” her mother said finally.

  “I’m not?” Esme was shocked.

  “I knew it was coming as soon as you started to molt,” her mother said. “We all grow in our own way. It is the way of our kind. I thought your friend was good for you, so I allowed it.”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course!” she laughed. “I could not let my fledgling be entirely exposed.”

  “You’ve been watching!” Esme was horrified.

  “Just enough to know you were safe,” she said. Her mother settled down into her favorite spot, and rested her head on her forearm to watch Esme.

  “Can you do it again? Can you take the shape of a human?” she asked.

  Esme concentrated. It was only when her mother smiled that Esme realized she had achieved it.

  “My wonderful daughter! I think you have saved our kind!”

  “What?”

  “You are the first of our kind to master the human shape, though we’ve been trying for generations.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you are going to go to school.”

  “School?”

  “Yes, school. Human school. You will find out where your friend Mary goes to school and you will join her there. You have much to learn to help our people.”

  “How will me going to human school help our people?”

  “We must learn to adapt to this new world they are creating,” her mother said. “Just never let any other human see your dragon shape. They can never know we still exist, much less that we can disguise ourselves.”

  “But Mary knows,” Esme said.

  “I think Mary is our ally.”

  “I get to keep my human friend?” Esme was thrilled.

  “Yes, you get to keep your human friend. Because of you, and your friendship, our people will learn to adapt and thrive again. You’ve done well, my girl.”

  Esme wriggled with joy, her beautiful green scales shimmering in the first light of early morning. Not only was she finally going to be allowed out of the cave without sneaking, but she’d been given permission – permission! – to explore so much more than she’d ever dreamed.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Mary.

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  Stephanie Barr is a part time novelist, full time rocket scientist, mother of three children and slave to many cats. Anything else even vaguely interesting about her can be found in her writing since she puts a little bit of herself in everything she writes… just not the same piece. In addition to her novel, The Taming of Dracul Morsus, she has also compiled a collection of prequel stories under the title Second Slavery.

  About this story, Stephanie says: “I loved that Dracul Morsus (the star of my novel) was raised by a dragon. That seemed like the perfect setup for a story about his younger years.”

  What teenager doesn’t think he’s invincible at some point or another – and often learn otherwise the hard way? Just think how much more interesting things would be if the parent who swooped in to rescue said wayward teen was a dragon…

  Invincible

  Stephanie Barr

  “I don’t see why I have to read about ancient history! Or more of it? Haven’t I learned enough? Don’t you have anything from the last century?” complained Dracul Morsus, seventeen, slamming his books down on his reading table in the library. If he had to spend one more hour locked in this library, he’d scream.

  Magerus, the black dragon, was a mighty beast and let a low rumble of displeasure escape along with a plume of black smoke. He answered Dracul with his usual telepathy. Nothing of interest happened during the past century. Someone would have awakened me. Magerus was normally more than twice his current size, but had magically shrunk himself down to fit (barely) inside the volcanic home he’d taken up when he adopted Dracul Morsus some fifteen years previously.

  “That’s beside the point. There’s more to life than books. How long will you keep me cooped up in this mountain?”

  A couple of centuries only, maybe only one. Until you learn judgement.

  “And you’ll think I’ll learn it from books?”

  Magerus lifted his lip to show more of his long sharp teeth. A salient point, but perhaps you should show me how well you learn from books before I encourage learning from experience, which, though a better teacher, is also far more dangerous.

  Another tendril of smoke appeared. If you tire of books, perhaps you can clean your sty of a room and tidy up the rest of the cave. Hobart struggles with the dusting – it aggravates his allergies. Or you could put in some hard work in the garden.

  “I don’t want more work! I want to play,” Dracul protested.

  Play what? the dragon asked in genuine puzzlement.

  “I don’t know! Nothing here, for certain. I want to talk with people and do something for leisure.”

  You mean besides reading or cleaning one’s jewels? Magerus responded, shocked.

  “Yes! Exactly. Not that I know what that entails, which is all the more reason I should find out. I want to run somewhere besides the garden, stroll through a forest without looking out for your herbs, swim in a mountain stream, perhaps find out why women are so often exalted in books.”

  Oh, well, yes, I suppose I can see that. But venturing into the human world is not something to take lightly. I’ve brought you to towns before and you’ve run other errands with Kalor. How often have you met with resistance, even antagonism?

  “Not last time!” So frustrating. Just because dragons were solitary creatures, he was supposed to be happy in isolation. Dracul had looked down into the human world often enough to see they clustered in towns. Surely, that meant it was normal for him to want to seek his own kind, try to find friends.

  So you told me, Magerus said in an indulgent tone that made Dracul grind his teeth. I will certainly consider it, but not today as I have an experiment I want to try. Do try to cultivate a little patience and we’ll see if we can find some humans that might be worthy of your interaction.

  Magerus withdrew his head from the library, a sign that, from his poi
nt of view, the argument was over.

  Well, Dracul didn’t think it was over.

  # # #

  DRACUL MORSUS! The mental shout was deafening to anyone with acuity, made more so by the monstrous roar that accompanied it.

  I believe, Hobart said, flapping his large ears as if he could undo the pain from the noise, the young mage has gone off on his own. So, master, if you could refrain from making so much noise, I would be grateful.

  Sorry, Hobart, Magerus said, though in a resentful tone.

  Hobart went back to his work with his long trunk, shelving books pulled out willy-nilly by a dragon’s impatient talon or by a young man’s thoughtless hand, all left jumbled everywhere. Earlier, Hobart had fished a priceless tome from the boy’s filthy laundry. Hobart shook his head and flapped his ears at the memory.

  It seemed, in the fifteen years since his master, a dragon of reticent ways and endless experience, had adopted a friendless infant, everything had gone topsy-turvy. The child was certainly powerful, Hobart conceded, but humans were almost always trouble, and so he’d warned Magerus from the beginning. Still, once the old dragon had a notion in his head, it was impossible to dislodge. The young one, Dracul Morsus, seemed to be prone to the same failing. Stubborn, the both of them.

  Hobart had not been surprised when he’d been ripped from his comfortable home, with its endless fields to graze on without challenge, to this more remote locale with a caldera garden but with nowhere near the quantity or variety of food Hobart wanted. Bad enough to be an elephant familiar and live in these unreasonable altitudes, but chasing after a difficult young human was beyond reason. Not that he’d say something. An elephant made a fine snack for dragons.

  To be fair, Dracul had been trying to teach his familiar, a mature phoenix, to fetch extra hay for Hobart, but Kalor had not yet figured out how to bring it without singeing the tender grasses.

  When did he leave? the dragon said.

  I don’t know. Some time while I was grazing. You had not asked me to mind him.

  No, I wouldn’t, Magerus said with a blithe disregard for the truth. He’s old enough to mind himself. Hobart could hear the subtle sound of the dragon’s teeth grinding from outside the library. At least here, in the safety of Mount Morsus. The world is something else. He was not to leave without permission.

  Telling me this buys you nothing, Hobart replied. Even if I had seen him leave, I would have had no way of stopping him. Not since you allowed him to impress the phoenix as his familiar.

  To impress a phoenix with his power at such a young age, Magerus said with a sigh, pride creeping into his mental voice. I couldn’t help but support such an achievement.

  And now he can go where ever he wishes without a word.

  Impudent puppy!

  Curiosity eating at his brain, prompted Hobart to ask, What has he done to set you in such a rage?

  The brat stole some gold from my hoard!

  # # #

  Dracul Morsus could not remember when he’d last had such a good time. He felt warm from the strange elixir he had drunk and had been asked to buy for his new companions – and everyone else at the tavern – with his master’s gold and the unabashed approval of several of his fellows and even some pretty girls around him.

  Many of his ventures into the human world had not gone so well. His skin was darker than that of the other humans he had encountered, and that seemed to make many suspicious before he’d breathed a word. Others had become unfriendly when he mentioned his dragon mentor or hinted at his own powers. He had always felt repulsed. Only last week, when he was gathering a particular herb for his master that could not grow in the high altitude of Mount Morsus, had he stumbled across some other humans who treated him differently.

  He’d been gathering in the fertile verges near a horse paddock in the outskirts of a town when three young men, who appeared to be his same age, accosted him. Rather than be put off by his skin, they seemed curious and intrigued. They gasped at his living with a dragon, but exclaimed at his claims of power, asking to see examples, which Dracul did on a small scale. And, when he told them he had to leave, they had invited him to return, recommending he bring gold so he could drink and game with them.

  The same teenagers – and others – had indeed welcomed him when he returned, exclaiming their joy. Women in fancy dresses looked on approvingly and stood at his arm as he spent his master’s gold like water, both in play with a strange game with cards and then another with dice. He had understood the rules easily enough and he’d won at first, but, as his glass had been refilled with the strange bitter brew, he found his mind wandering, fuzzy, and seemed to have a hard time keeping track of the games. The coins he’d won at first were soon gone, and most of those he’d brought as well.

  He was smart enough to stop before he’d lost it all, but he was disappointed in his performance. He wouldn’t complain, though, and ruin the mood with his new-found friends. Even when the nice buzz he’d enjoyed became a heavy weight in his stomach and a bleariness he had not felt before, he said nothing.

  Perhaps, we should return, Kalor said in his mind, concerned. You do not feel yourself.

  “You’re just not used to me having fun,” Dracul retorted. “I’ve never felt so much approval.” At times, of course, Magerus gave him compliments, but they were few and far between, in contrast with a great many complaints about his limitations. He had never known what it was to bask in the respect and affection of his own peers. It was wonderful.

  Even if he felt awful.

  Besides, he added mentally, I’m a powerful mage. I can take care of myself. I am almost invincible.

  He didn’t feel quite as invincible throwing up in the street a few minutes later, nor was he alone. Several other of the boys with him were doing the same, to the laughter and jeers of their friends from the tavern. Still, he told himself, he wasn’t alone. And that thought warmed him, despite the retching, until the moment he passed out.

  # # #

  He felt anything but warm when he woke up. His body ached as though he’d tumbled down the mountain, especially his head, which pounded in time with his sluggish heart. His mouth was dry and tasted particularly vile, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His shoulders ached, perhaps because his arms were pinned behind him and wouldn’t respond to his commands. His stomach was both empty and angry, roiling, as indeed he was. Or something. He calmed himself as best he could and listened, unwilling to chance a glance at the sunlight. Where ever he lay was in motion and there was a steady “clop-clop” that sounded like a sluggish but shod horse. How did he get here?

  His concern over his surroundings overcame his anxiety for facing the light, but it didn’t matter. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but the dimmest light through a dark blindfold. He’d been captured!

  Dracul took a moment to center himself. He knew, from painful experience, that performing magic with a chaotic mind generally led to more chaos. He breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to ignore the noxious smells, all the more horrible because he feared he was the source, and breathed out through his desiccated mouth. The aches and discomforts receded from his mind, but for a rather sharp pain at his wrists and the remnants of his headache. His stomach’s concerns were pushed away to be dealt with later. His fear and fury were contained to be addressed when he was not in peril.

  After three breaths, he felt the calm he needed to perform magic and willed whatever was holding his wrists hostage to part.

  Nothing happened.

  He focused harder.

  No response.

  He turned his attention to the blindfold and ordered it to unweave itself, which should have been an easy spell. Even with all his concentration, the best he could do was loosen the weave and have the tie undo sufficiently that it drooped below the level of his eyes. He was piled in an open-air cart with other boys he’d met and been drinking with. All of them were trussed and asleep.

  Panic swirled back into his consciousness. He couldn’
t remember the last time he felt so powerless. KALOR! he screamed in his mind.

  Master, his familiar replied, though his voice was muffled as it if had to come through blankets. I couldn’t hear you, can barely hear you now. I feared you were dead. Magerus…

  Don’t call Magerus! I must be able to solve this myself or I’ll never hold up my head again.

  There was a pause. Can you?

  Dracul paused himself. I’m not sure. My magic isn’t working, though I don’t know why.

  Your shackles appear to be made of iron. Are you affected by that metal? Dracul sent his mind back to a lesson from a few months back where Magerus reminded him that some natural born mages were adversely affected by different materials and to make sure he knew what affected him so he could avoid it. Dracul had meant to follow through with an experiment but it had always seemed to be something he could do later. Apparently, he thought weakly. It even seems to affect my link with you.

  Should I try to flame your captors? Though I’m not sure how to do so without setting your cart on fire.

  Burning to death, bound and blindfolded, among other youngsters did not appeal. No!

  Then how do you expect to free yourself?

  That was a puzzler and Dracul was still wrestling with a solution or some promise of one when the cart moved underneath a shed and came to a halt. Men spoke just outside the cart, but he couldn’t hear it well. Dracul wiggled his body to rise above his fellows and perhaps hear better.

  “Why did you bring them all at once? You think, if the boys of the three richest men in town disappear at once, someone won’t catch on there’s something up? Do you want to bring the king and his army down on us?”

  “Please, they’ll all cave. Money means nothing to these men or they wouldn’t lavish it on greenheads like this. And I got a special plum I never expected. The dragon’s own protégé. Dragons are loaded, right, with treasure? We’ll be set up for life.”