Whisper of Waves

65

8 Eleint, the Year of the Wave (1364 DR)

THE LAND OF ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

The black firedrake struggled under Insithryllax’s massive talon. It wasn’t trying to escape-it knew better-but it was just trying to breathe. The black dragon held it firmly to the ground of the alien dimension while Marek Rymut walked around and around the dragon in slow, deliberate circles.

The rest of the firedrakes, hundreds of them, wheeled in the air far above, watching Marek with fiery eyes smoldering with nascent intelligence.

They’ve come a long way, Marek thought with a smile.

“I’m bored,” the black dragon rumbled.

Marek looked up into his reptilian face and said, “Patience, my friend.”

“Patience?” the black wyrm replied. “I’ve given you your little mutants, your black firedrakes. I’ve helped tame your lightning fish-whatever you call them.”

“I’ve been thinking, ‘Fury’s Eels.’”

“Spectacular,” said Insithryllax. “I’m tired of this place. I can’t live out here like an animal anymore. It’s not a proper life for a civilized creature. You or I.”

Marek looked back down at the restrained firedrake and said, “One more little experiment.”

“Then what?”

Marek sighed.

“At least tell me what we’re doing here,” asked the wyrm.

“This is the last element in the creation of the black firedrakes,” Marek explained. He let his chest swell with pride when he spoke, and why not? It would be his greatest achievement. “With this spell, the new ransar’s shock troops will be ready to serve him.”

“What new ransar?” the dragon asked. “We were sent here-you were sent here-to take control of the supply of magic. We’re here to sell magic items, not to supply ‘shock troops’ … whatever that is, to some human bureaucrat.”

Marek laughed and said, “Magic items? Watch this, my friend.”

He kneeled on the soft, mossy ground next to the pinned firedrake. The creature’s eyes rolled to take him in, and softened when they fell on Marek’s face. The beast recognized him. Marek had seen similar looks on the faces of his mother’s dogs. The thought disappointed him.

He spoke the first word of the first spell and the firedrake flicked its tongue at him. Marek smiled back at his creation and wove the spells, first one, then another, then a third, and a fourth. It took a long time, a lot longer than each one would have taken had he stopped in-between and cast them individually. Done together, each one was more powerful and more permanent. Into the casting he mingled words in Draconic that didn’t trigger spell effects but were a message to the firedrake:

Don’t worry, little one, you’ll understand soon.

When he was finished, the firedrake looked at him again, and instead of a dog, the look in its eyes reminded Marek of his niece Halina when she was a baby. There was an unmistakable spark that promised-in due time-real understanding.

“Let him up,” Marek said to the dragon.

Insithryllax hesitated a moment then took his massive front paw off the still firedrake. The smaller creature rolled onto its feet but didn’t stand. Instead, it scuttled back, keeping its head down, not looking its masters in the eye.

“What have you done to it?” asked the dragon.

Marek looked at the black firedrake and said, “Look at me, my son.” The creature didn’t seem to want to, but it finally lifted its head to meet the Red Wizard’s gaze. “Change.”

The black firedrake’s shiny ebon scales quivered as what looked like shockwaves rippled across its sinewy length. There was a loud pop!, then another. Its bones began to creak and grind under its muscles. The firedrake closed its eyes and its long, crocodilian face folded in on itself.

“Marek,” Insithryllax sighed, “what have you done?”

The firedrake’s wings shriveled and collapsed, shaking and spasming as they reformed into arms, the claws on the end shortening and articulating with tinny cracks to form human hands.

It went on like that for agonizing moments until a human male with dusky brown skin lay naked on the spongy ground where the black firedrake had been. The transformed creature looked up at Marek with eyes a deeper black than any human eyes he’d ever seen. It crawled and writhed on the ground, looking at itself in obvious confusion and unsure how to use its new limbs.

“The new ransar’s shock troops,” Insithryllax said.

Marek smiled and approached the transformed monster, reaching out a hand to it. The black firedrake took his hand, and Marek helped it to its feet.

“We should start naming them now,” Marek said. “Each one, in turn, as they’re transformed.”

“You do still have the ability to surprise me,” said the wyrm. “They’ll be able to change back and forth … as I do?”

Marek nodded and sent a reassuring smile the dragon’s way. Then he turned back to the firedrake.

“Olin,” Marek said to the shivering naked man. “Captain Olin. Yes?”

“Oh …” the transformed firedrake stuttered. “O-Ol …”

Marek chucked, and the false human smiled back.

“So,” said Insithryllax, “all you have to do is cast that spell over and over again, one for each of the firedrakes?”

“One for each of the firedrakes,” the Red Wizard replied.

“Olin?” said the captain of the new ransar’s shock troops.

“In the meantime,” Marek said to the dragon, not looking back at him but considering in detail the form of the transformed reptile before him, “I’ll see what I can do about building a home here. One you can call your own, yes? So you don’t have to suffer the cruel elements of the Land of One Hundred and Thirteen.”

The dragon sighed, and Marek could sense his tacit agreement, but he also worried that perhaps his time with the great wyrm was drawing to a close.

“I’ll need someone to teach them how to use human weapons, too,” Marek said, “not to mention how to comport themselves in civilized society. They’ll have to learn Common, and maybe Draconic, too, or Chondathan?”

“This one appears capable, but that will take time,” said the dragon.

Marek shrugged and said, “Time, magic, and coin will buy us what we need.”

“Will it?” asked the dragon, though he didn’t sound the slightest bit unconvinced.

“Hasn’t it always?” Marek replied.