Becoming the Dragon Read online

  Why did all this have to happen to me? Why couldn’t the stupid Tolkieneers from Irina’s group have gotten thrown into this land? They would have been ecstatic!

  “Why me?” he cried as loud as he could, touching his lips in despair and hitting the floor with a fist, which raised a small cloud of dust. The cry bounced off the walls and came back to him in a multitude of resounding replies. No one was ready with the answer.

  What had he done to offend the powers that be, for them to make fun of him so? First, they pet him with a bit of lightning, then decide that’s not enough, so they add an other-worldly excursion? But I’m lucky no one has gobbled me up, and I haven’t stepped on a poisonous snake. That “peach” could well have been the last fruit I ate in my life. On the other hand, what does luck mean? Luck would have been not walking through the experimentation field, or even better, not going to my father’s work in the first place.

  ***

  When the cold of the stone began to take its toll and his adrenaline had waved bye-bye, he carefully sat up. Trying not to move his shoulder blades or back too much, he was finally upright and wiped his wet face with the t-shirt. He squinted at his surroundings. Enough with the wet eyes, tears won’t solve your problems.

  They will answer me. They will answer for everything. I will make this sucky world face the music, just you wait! Andy didn’t yet know who “they” were and how exactly he would make them face the music, but he firmly made up his mind to survive. He would survive despite everything, no matter what it took.

  “Where’ve I ended up this time?” he posed the philosophical question to the emptiness.

  Silence reigned in the place, disturbed only by the broken crumbling of pebbles still sprinkling from the hole in the wall. The room he’d found his way into was enormous. Andy raised his head. A cupola glowed with a soft, subdued light. The floating specks of dust danced in the air like a myriad of little stars.

  “About 250 feet…” he measured the height of the cupola by sight. “Probably about 350 from wall to wall.”

  It turned out that the bald hill hid an ancient structure. The walls were ornamented with bas-reliefs, but a thick layer of dirt and dust covered all the surfaces, keeping him from examining them more closely. In the thick dirt of the room, the unnatural cleanliness of a high arc stood out; it looked as if it were cut from one solid piece of crystal. Sparks of reflected light played along the arc; a pale purple light illuminated the crystal’s thickness from within.

  A mountain of bones towered before the arc, bones so big one might surmise they belonged to a dinosaur. The vertebrae of the tail Andy was sitting next to stretched in a row at least 25 feet long. How did that paleontological exhibit get in here? He couldn’t see any doors or passageways. Did they fly in? This last thought had barely just formed in his brain and spread over his cerebrum when his eyes, just ahead of his brain, caught sight of the oblong bones lying to the right and left of the skeleton he’d destroyed. Well, well!

  Andy stood up, a wave of dull pain running along his spine as he did. Okay, I can handle that; I can walk and jump. The position of the bones was very similar to the frame of bat wings or a pterodactyl. “How about that!” The local flying creature’s wingspan was about 65 feet. Some pretty formidable birds hang out in these skies!

  Andy walked up a little closer. It was a wing all right. He stood there snapping his fingers pensively and staring straight ahead. There were griffons in this world, so logically he had to accept the idea that this mountain of bones was, at one time, a dragon. But it was somehow difficult to believe that this dragon flew. The wingspan was too small for such a bulky, cumbersome beast, unless…

  Unless there was magic here. If so, everything would fall into place. A dragon’s flight, the lighting in this place he was in, the question that had already bothered him—where did the light come? As far as he could remember, there hadn’t been any windows on the hill. Batteries? What enormous volume they must have to be working still after all the time it took for this layer of dust to form! It had obviously been quite a while. Automatic electrical power? Ha!

  “You’re not thinking in the right direction, Andy Dip-head. You’ve got to think about how to get out of here, not about how the lights work!” the unfortunate traveler scolded himself. “I’ve got to take a look at this wonder of nature’s mind.”

  Andy walked around the dragon. The monster lay before some kind of pedestal or alter, its head resting on it. Although, calling a skull with five-foot-long teeth a “head” seemed inadequate.

  “Whew! Now that’s big!” Andy said, drumming on the dragon’s tooth with his fingernail. The dragon’s jaws also bore two pairs of upper and lower fangs about 16 inches each. The skull itself was of a conical form and got wider toward the eye sockets. Both sockets were tilted forward, so there was no question of whether it had binocular vision. A collar of bone about a foot and a half long protruded from the back of the skull, covering the base, which divided into two cones that became 3-foot-long horns. The horns faced backward and ran parallel to the fifteen-foot-long neck. This “birdie” didn’t peck at seeds—it pecked at those who pecked at seeds—Eleraffs, for example.

  Andy turned to the altar and almost fell, getting his foot tangled in a chain that came out from under the dragon’s right paw.

  “Well now, let’s see…” he bent and tugged on the chain. Clanking against the stone in protest, a real round “pancake” with a blood-red stone in the center appeared from under the creature’s paw. It was something like a medallion, perfectly fit for a dragon, the right size, and everything, about a foot and a half across. Andy pulled the circular object toward himself, not the least bit surprised by the weight of it, and picked it up—25 pounds, give or take. He spat on the metal and rubbed it with the edge of his t-shirt. The clean part shined with a dark yellowish color. That explained the pancake’s heaviness; it was made of gold. Was the stone a ruby? Andy lifted the object up and watched the light play within the gem. Was the dragon “whacked” here because of this gold? Maybe someone had… but no, there are no other bones around, no signs of violence. He crossed out the possibility of a dragon slayer.

  The medallion suddenly flashed yellow and strange runes lit up on its surface. The crystal arc started humming like a swarm of angry bees. Its pale purple light changed to a bright neon color. Andy got scared and tried to toss the heavy circle away. No such luck; the medallion melted onto his palms.

  The arc’s fluorescence grew brighter; Andy’s startled fear turned to full-blown panic. Not knowing what to do, Andy slammed the yellow thing on the altar with all his might. This junk, this circle, this amulet, medallion, whatever it was, detached itself from his hands. Bits of the skin off his palms remained on its surface and fell to the ground by the dragon’s head, clinking victoriously.

  Andy sputtered from the pain and shook his hands back and forth at the wrist. A couple of drops of blood had gotten onto the woe-bringing golden circle. A dark red beam of light shot from the ruby to the ceiling.

  In the next instant, he felt as if his chest was being slammed by a sledgehammer, his feet lifted off the ground, and he felt himself soaring in the direction of the opposite wall. He didn’t make it all the way there; he landed 30 feet from the take-off point, then skidded another 15 by inertia.

  The arc had stopped glowing, and the red beam from the ruby disappeared. The question What was that? somehow immediately took a back seat to the exclamatory maxim Run like heck! You didn’t believe in magic? There’s proof for you! Is it alright that it’ll leave its mark on your ribcage?

  The air over Andy lit up, his ears perked up at the sound of a very high-pitched, borderline ultrasonic, screech. The outlines of some kind of pentagram formed in the air above him out of nowhere. According to all indicators, the magic had decided to finish him off.

  Andy couldn’t manage to pick his butt up off the surface it had polished and get out of there, no matter where. The pentagram suddenly glowed, the bright light slashing at h
is eyes and the ultrasonic screech turning to a rumbling hum that made the walls shake. His body was overwhelmed with an incredible weight, pinning him to the floor. His arms and legs felt nailed down with invisible nails, and Andy could only stare at the pentagram descending upon him.

  “Aahhh!” he writhed with his whole body. “Let me gooo! I don’t want it! What is it? I’ll tear you apart!” Instead of his cries, a muffled rattle escaped his throat. The desperate attempt to free himself from the pentagram’s hold had no effect. It finally touched his body, and the glow went out as if it had never been. The weight lifted, and Andy sprang from the ground to his feet in one movement.

  Rage and a readiness to kill whatever might cross his path bubbled inside him. He grabbed a large thighbone of the dragon and began to destroy the remains of the skeleton with it. A few minutes later, all that remained intact was the skull. Wiping the ample sweat from his forehead, Andy looked around.

  The room had changed. The dirt and dust buildup from many centuries had disappeared, and the room shone clean. Only the ruined skeleton, fallen stones under the hole in the wall, and dirty, bloody Andy, himself, spoiled the magical transformation. The coat he’d been holding was left somewhere in the ventilation pipe as he slid his way in here and his t-shirt was in rags, but his shoes looked good as new.

  Andy shifted his weight from one leg to another and let the enormous bone fall from his hands. It was strange; he wondered how he had been able to smash the skeleton. Looking at the bone he was gripping in his hands, he questioned why it had been stronger than the others. Andy looked at his hands and kicked the bone that lay on the floor—an ordinary bone. He was suddenly ashamed of what he’d done to the dragon.

  He turned from the destruction to find a way out of the room. He walked along the walls, examining the bas-reliefs and stone carvings as he did so. The stone images took his breath away. Dragons, people, judging from the long pointed ears, elves, and other creatures were depicted in full detail. The tiniest details were carved with meticulous precision.

  ***

  How much time Andy spent immersed contemplating the lives of the winged race and the other stone characters, he couldn’t say. He tried to turn away from the walls, but involuntarily, his gaze continually fixated on one or another of the carved images or bas-reliefs. He soon came back around to where he had begun—pretty hard to find any doors or other rooms. Either they weren’t part of the project, or they were scrupulously masked, which was most likely—maybe even by some magical password or passage only by aura. Andy scratched his scar. I could fail to find my way out of here until the second coming; then my skeleton would take its place beside the dragon’s mashed-up bones. How cute. The composition would be called…

  “It won’t be called anything! I’ll get out the same way I came in!” The thud of pebbles falling from the ventilation hole had pulled him out of his thoughts and given him an idea.

  Easier said than done. Let’s say I can get to the hole by climbing on the arc. What then? Then the challenges begin. How can I climb up the inclined tube? I don’t have claws! Think, man, think!

  “What are you smiling at?” Andy kicked the innocent skull in frustration. Its teeth clanked noisily; the reflection of the internal violet light from the arc glinted across the fangs.

  “Sorry, man!” Andy sat down in front of the dragon’s skull. He had no claws, but he had a substitute… “Can you share your chompers? I need them more than you do!”

  The fangs really didn’t want to come out of the skull. The second stone he used to try to pry them out was shattered to pieces with no success. He had one fang at his disposal; ideally, he would need three more. Andy struggled with them longer than he had spent smashing the skeleton. The fangs were in there good and tight.

  They were sharp, and the inside edge was finely serrated; it cut no worse than a knife. I could cut my palms to shreds on these! Andy cut a few strips of fabric from his t-shirt with his pocket knife. Now, he just had to wrap the bases of the newly acquired climbing devices in fabric, and he could get going. He’d been there too long already…

  ***

  Punch a fang in. Pull yourself up. Left, right, pull yourself up. Small crumbs and sand fell on his face. “Dang! It got in my eye again!”

  Andy punched a fang in deep with his left hand and got situated a little more comfortably, then wiped his eyes with his right hand. He didn’t know whether he would make it out or not, but the dirt, clay, and sand would last him the rest of his life if he did. Crunch. The fang in his right hand hit something hard in the dirt wall and broke. Andy reached for a replacement in his belt. Three teeth left; he had to be more careful.

  The walls of the tube glowed with a ghostly light as if glow-in-the-dark mushrooms or phosphorous microorganisms lived in the depths and on the surfaces covered in dirt. Sand and little clumps of earth periodically fell on his head from above, and the little bits scratched his stomach, drawing blood.

  Punch a fang in, pull yourself up. Now the other hand, pull yourself up. Halfway there.

  All kinds of stupid thoughts came to mind. Andy wondered whether he’d have a blister on his belly button or whether his belly button would be completely wiped into oblivion. Cowboys get blisters on their butt cheeks, and his situation was a lot worse than horseback riding. Fifty yards down, fifty to go.

  He saw his coat hanging there. Punch a fang in, pull yourself up. Right hand, pull yourself up. There’s my little coat. Did you miss me? He took hold of it and brought it with him, clenching it in between his teeth.

  Another landing on the dragon’s bones would certainly end badly, if not fatally. I shouldn’t have smashed the bones. Not worth it! Don’t spit in the wind, especially if the wind is a dragon skeleton.

  Roots, just like live tentacles, strove to hook onto his belt and prevent him from crawling up and out. They grabbed his hands and tried to poke at his face. It was no use; the robot Andy had become had a job to do. Punch a fang in, pull yourself up, punch the other one in, pull yourself up.

  Three-quarters of the way—the finish line… He sure couldn’t take a final sprint, but no big deal; he would go by the Olympic principle, It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game that counts. He wished he could fix the fangs to his legs; his arms were already shaking quite violently. He caught his breath and kept going—punch, pull; the other hand, pull.

  Andy got another portion of moist earth in the face. Good thing I shut my eyes in time. How much dirtier could I be? I’m already like Winnie the Pooh when he jumped in the mud before flying up to the honey!

  It was hard not to mispronounce the poem with the coat collar in his mouth: “It’s a very funny sought that, if Bears vere Bees, zey’d build zeir nests at ze bottom of trees. And zat bein’ so (if ze Bees vere Bears), We shouldn’t have to climb up all zese stairs!”

  Interesting, he thought, what kind of “bears” or “bees” dug out this “burrow?” Maybe they hired a red-eyed rabbit to do the job? ‘If I know anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit,’ he further quoted the childhood classic in his mind. ‘…And Rabbit means Company….’ Anything was possible. Momma “Cheshire” brought a bunny from the woods the size of a large dog. God-forbid he should meet such a fellow in the tube or one of the “bees” he was wondering about.

  If they have rabbit like that here, what kind of elephants do they have? The size of a five-story building! And the fleas on these “pet” elephants would be the size of a car. Jump-crash, jump-crash, the jumping cars on the backs of friendly giant elephants….

  He bumped his head on a big boulder. Stop. I made it, I made it! Andy better secured his footing and began to look for the gap between the boulder covering the hatch and the edge of the tube. There were no traces of one. How did so much dust, dirt and leaves get in here? Open up! Andy hit the stone with all his might until his knuckles bled. He heard a click above his head, and the boulder rolled to the side, revealing the opening and the darkening sky overhead. Evening already? The w
ind blew into the tube and howled above it; the moving roof sprinkled bits of dirt into the hole. Not waiting any longer, Andy climbed out of the trap. With the speed of the guillotine, the huge boulder rolled back into place, almost squishing his feet.

  Andy lay down on his back. His arms were stiff and seemed to buzz like a transformer. How much distance did I cover climbing up? About a hundred yards? I should probably get to the river and wash myself off…

  The sky brightened. The light blue edge of the rising planet appeared over the horizon. Andy sat up. What should I do now? Go down to the woods and look for the tallest tree I can find? Staying on the hill seemed like an incredibly bad idea. Andy would have to go out to the dark forest stockade anyway; better to do it sooner rather than when the nighttime creatures came out to hunt. He could orient himself by the light of the fire between the trees. Suddenly he stopped. You idiot! Fire! There are people there!

  His exhaustion lifted, and he bolted downhill, hurdling over boulders, bushes, and fallen trees. If he had tripped at that pace, he would have been shattered to pieces. He raced, dodging in and out between the trees, not noticing the underbrush and cleverly threading through the thin trunks of the dense hazelnut trees. The fire was close by already.

  Andy ran right into some cords that hit him in the chest and blocked his way. He grabbed one of the fangs from his belt and began hacking away at the ropes. Faster, faster! What’s this? A net? He stopped at the very last second. What kind of people are they? Have you forgotten everything you were thinking about portal voyagers?

  Trying not to make any noise, Andy stepped back. His left leg tangled in the mesh of the sticky net. A couple of improvised dagger strokes, and his leg was free, but with a thin ringing sound, the thick thread that connected to the net’s mesh snapped.

  An eerie roar came from somewhere off to the side. A dark shadow Andy took for an uprooted tree in the twilight suddenly grew larger. People began to scream excitedly; he heard snippets of orders being barked here and there. Shadows broken by the fire began to move and quiver in different directions. The dark shadow to the right stretched upward and lifted off the ground; wide wings opened on the background of the starry sky.