Stone Dragon (The First Realm) (8 page)

“Angrod?
Angrod?
”

“G-get away, Meerwen. Get away!”

I was growing, but my torso was growing faster. My clothes were being shredded, of course, but then so was my skin. My eyelids and mouth stretched as much as they could, then tore at the corners. My arms grew so long the skin split at the elbows—it looked like I was wearing gloves of my own skin. Glistening underneath were hard white scales.

“What’s happening to me?!”

I shuddered, my muscles tensing and twitching. I bulged out of my clothes, the muscles swelling like boils. They flexed, breaking bones and tearing tendons. My bones knit together and then snapped apart. Knit together and snapped apart. Did I mention the pain? No?

“Aaeeeaarghaarhraa help meee!”

I writhed on the floor, stretched on the rack of my own body. The guests had fallen back in horror. People were screaming, men and women were pushing for the exits. Meerwen stood her ground, but her hands had turned into fists.

“Oh, gods!” I said through a mouthful of fangs. My jaws jutted forward and I was growing a snout. It poked through my stretched lips—my fucking
nostrils
were poking through my lips. My scalp was pulled down my neck and down my back. My tail lashed the air. My pants exploded, and then my shoes. I took a moment to mourn my shoes—I’d bought them just for the party. It rained bloody toenails before the talons forced their way out.

Everything went black. I shook my head, and then everything looked different. Everyone glowed in their own personal mana pool, but the ambient magic still streamed into me.
Me!
My body sucked up all the loose energy—enchantments failed across the city. Lights flickered, as transmutation spells stopped turning lard into illuminating gas. Scrying pools collapsed, cutting off communications and splattering their users. At the buffet table, all the desserts began to slump.

My last thought when I blacked out was,
At least I don’t have to be king anymore
.

Chapter 9

I opened my eyes and heard the screaming. People were streaming out the doors and diving from the balconies and into the gardens. Odd, that.

The second thing I noticed was that everyone was smaller. Here I was, on all fours, and still I towered over them. The ceiling was a closer too, and I made a note to avoid the chandeliers. Whose idea was it to hang them so low? Fucking dwarves.

The third thing I noticed was how
angry
I was. “Shonofabitch,” I rumbled. I twisted my neck back and forth (this was easier) and took in the scene. The two elder Elanesses seemed rooted to the ground. Valandil gazed up at me, mouth slack.

“What are
you
looking at?” I said.

“You seem to have turned into a dragon.”

“
What?
That’s ridiculous. You’ve been hitting the maple-sherry gelato, haven’t you?”

“That’s not the point. The point is that you’re a dragon now.”

I stood up straight. It wasn’t as easy as I remembered, and I had to grab onto a nearby a railing. I looked at it—my claws hooked around a second-floor balcony.

“See what I mean?” Valandil said.

“Whatever. I’ve always been tall. And how am I talking? Dragons never had lips or vocal cords.”

“Notice how your lips aren’t moving? That’s because you don’t have any.”

I gnashed my teeth, a sound that filled the hall. I noticed I was using magic to talk—a variant of the voice-amplification spell. “Still doesn’t prove a thing.”

“What about your wings?”

“I’ve always had them. Since I was a hatchling, in fact.”

“Somebody’s in denial,” Findecano said. His wife clung to him.

“Hey, hey, nobody’s in denial. So I look a little different in some areas. Big deal. I’ve been under a lot of stress. So my skin’s a little weird and everybody looks like food. Haven’t you had one of those weeks?”

“Angrod, you’re a dragon,” Meerwen said.

“Not you too!”

I got down on all fours—I always think better that way. I looked around. “Where’d everybody go? The night is still young.” I blinked, then shook my head. “Look, if I were a dragon I would be able to breathe fire, right? And I’m damn sure I can’t. Never could. Not even after that time I ran away with the circus.”

Findecano and Tari slowly edged off the stage.

My thoughts drifted, but then the wind changed and I was back on course. I remembered I was angry, fucking
furious
, and it was suddenly a good idea to see if I could breathe fire.

I turned to my master. “Make a fool of me, would you?” I stabbed a claw in his direction. “I’m onto your game, old man. This is nothing but an elaborate jest, starting with that nonsense about me being a prince.”

Part of me thought this was wrong, all wrong, but another part was shouting
fight fight fight
. I was drunk with anger and maybe rum balls, because who counts cookies, even if they’re alcoholic cookies? I stalked closer to the stage. “Did you think you could make me do something I didn’t want? I am not your pawn, little man. You have pushed me one square too far.”

Findecano’s hand lashed out, but the local magic field was completely depleted. Sparks escaped his fingers, but that was all.

I turned to him. “You think to burn me with your pathetic cantrip?” I growled. “It is I who will burn
you
.”

I reared, triangulating on him and his mate. I gathered my breath and waited for them to twitch. Tari blinked, and I threw my head forward and spat white-hot plasma.

* * *

Several things happened at once.

The Lord Governor turned to shield his wife, for all the good it would do. Meerwen tackled me around the neck, but without her magic she only weighed as much as any elf girl.

As the plasma left my mouth I thought,
Shit, I really AM a dragon
.

And Valandil Telerunya, former royal adviser and my mentor, stepped into the line of fire with his arms outstretched. With the last of his power he shielded the two people behind him, giving them time to tumble off the stage. Then his magic failed and he died instantly. At least, I hope so. His skin boiled off, his flesh turned black, and his skeleton fell apart. I was a gigantic blowtorch—
nothing
could stand before me.

Four combat mages came in through the skylights and smashed into the ground around me. They must’ve come in high, gathered their energies, and dropped through the no-magic zone with full mana reserves. They crackled with power. But then, so did I.

While the glass still rained down, the first magician started with the classic fireball—hits like a rock, explodes like a bomb, and burns like napalm. But I twisted my head and it flew past.

BOOM. The magician on the other side hit me with another fireball, rocking me sideways. My scales weren’t even singed.

“Did you just attack a fire-breathing dragon with
fire?
” I said. “That’s like attacking a polar bear with snowballs, isn’t it?”

I lashed out with my claws, caught the first black mage, and bit his head off. The third mage hit me with a blast of cold and the fourth turned the floor to quicksand.

“Hey, not fair!” I said. My paws scrabbled for purchase and my wings flapped for lift but the cold had sapped my strength and I sank under the surface. The marble closed over me and became solid again.

“Did we get him?” said one of the mages.

—I burst out of the ground, flapped my wings, and leaped straight up, crashing through the dome and trailing chandeliers on my wings.

* * *

Dragons used to be such a mystery.

For one thing, how could they have six limbs? There’s no precedent. No reptile in the fossil record has so many legs. And how could they fly? They were too big, too heavy, and they certainly didn’t have the breastbones for it.

Yet here I was, a dragon, and I wasn’t just flying—I was flying
fast
.

Turns out dragons are thaumavores, or magic-eaters. They feed like other animals but also derive sustenance from the ambient energy. Flying, for instance, was possible through air magic. I wasn’t even flapping my wings. My body was taking in magic as it came to me, then blasting it behind me for propulsion, like some kind of air-breathing rocket. Wings swept back, I made good time.

Holy balls, what did I just do?

We finally got rid of that meddlesome old man.

Who ARE you?

The dragon Cruix, at your service. Rather, in my own service, as no elf is my master.
The mental voice seemed to mutter.
Disgusting ephemera, cluttering the world with your towns and your cities… We should have wiped you out the minute you arrived…

Who’s WE?

Why, we dragons! The rulers of this world! Where have you been, that you have not heard of us?

Those were your thoughts I was thinking, wasn’t it?

There was a pause as I allowed him to go through my memories. Now that we knew about each other, our minds had formed divisions. So far the barricades were holding.

Am I the only one?
he said, after what seemed like hours.
Am I the only dragon in the world? Am I the last of a proud race, greatest in wisdom and in majesty? Is there no one else?

Tough luck, buddy.

Things were looking up. Cases of possession weren’t unheard of and there were doctors who specialized them. It would be simple enough to turn around, turn myself in, and turn back to normal. I adjusted my wings, determined to do just that—and continued on a straight path. What the fuck?

I know what you’re thinking, little elf, and I will not allow it. I am no mere demon or thoughtform to be banished so easily. I AM A LIVING MIND and I remember the magics of my people. If you try to seek medical care, I will stop you.

This is terrible!

Ah, but it gets worse, at least for you. You see, this situation cannot hold. Two minds cannot share the same head for long. There can only be one outcome, and I tell you this because you have no hope of stopping it.

What happens? TELL ME.

In less than forty days I, Cruix, shall take over this body and extinguish its original personality. You, Angrod, shall cease even to be a memory.

* * *

I was still reeling from that when the hair on my neck stood up. Turns out I still had hair. It was silky and white and went all the way to my tail. I had a mane and trailing mustachios.

I never thought I’d have to become another species before I could grow a beard.

Now that hair was standing on end. The air smelled weird. I wondered what it was—I jinked right.

BOOM. Lighting split the air.

They’d lain in wait, the combat mages. They’d teleported ahead and hovered along my flight path. Cloaked, I couldn’t spot them until they split the night with thunder. They flew alongside now, passing lightning back and forth and missing by inches. They were trying hard to hit me, but I was trying even harder to evade them.

Fire mages dove in, covered in flames and screaming for my death. I dodged the living missiles. As a dragon I was agile in the air. I was halfway built for it, unlike the elven mages. Still they dive-bombed me, harried me with lightning and sleet. The ice crystals were sharp and blinding.

Persistent little monkeys, aren’t they? Why don’t we show them who REALLY rules the skies?

I was about to say no, but then a fire mage singed my moustache. “Okay, that is it!”

I was among them like a hound among rats. I tore them from the sky, bit them in mid-air, and crushed them in my talons. I was bigger, faster, more heavily armed. Those caught in my wake lost power and tumbled from the sky. I almost pitied them.

Stop! Stop! You’re killing them!

Isn’t this what we want? Finally, power enough to shake the world!

Staaahp!

You’re no fun.

* * *

Meerwen soared. Her enhanced eyesight gave her a complete view of the battlespace. She grimaced at each casualty. Many of them she knew by name, and it hurt to see them fall. It was clear that Angrod had become a monster. She watched as he tore through the last of the mages. She had to increase speed to keep up.

Part of her wept at the turn of events. Things had been so promising. She couldn’t understand how he could be a prince, let alone a dragon. Both princes and dragons had passed from the world before she was born. To hear her father tell it, the world was better for it.

Thinking of the death toll that had begun at the royal palace, she had to agree. Prince or not, Angrod had to die.

The mages were far behind. The dragon was keeping a straight course. She couldn’t keep flying much longer—the spell was extremely taxing. It was time.

She canceled her forward thrust and began to stoop. She held her fists out in front of her and called upon the power of the earth. She was high in the sky, but she’d always had an affinity for the earth and the wind resistance ceased to be a problem as her weight multiplied. She became denser,
much
denser, and soon was as rigid as a statue.

Down she dived, down and down, gaining speed and power. She poured energy into her earth discipline, and apart from a few course corrections dropped like a rock. An extremely dense rock, plummeting so fast her skin grew hot. She held her fists in front of her and aimed for Angrod.

* * *

I was congratulating myself for the skirmish when something hit me in the back. I stopped feeling my legs. Something wet slithered across my belly.

What was that?

I chanced a look. Oh, shit.

There was a hole in my back, and a bigger one in my abdomen. Whatever had hit me, it had punched all the way through. I was trailing my own guts.

I noticed we were losing altitude.

What do I do?

Do? There is no “do.” Only DIE.

Chapter 10

Findecano directed the guards as they picked through the wreckage. Overall, it could have been worse. There were plenty of bruises and scrapes among his guests (the dwarven ambassador sprained his ankle jumping onto the garden, the clumsy lump) but there was just one civilian fatality.