Keith Baker - The Gates of Night

“So we just start climbing?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” Jode said. “If you were a dragon, you could just fly.”

“I’m not a dragon.”

“I could be,” Lei said.

“What?” Daine looked at her.

“I’ve never tried anything so large, but I think I could transform myself into a dragon.” Lei’s mind raced, calculating mystical parameters and dredging up half-forgotten formulas. “The change wouldn’t last long. But I would be able to fly and carry the rest of you.”

“What are the risks?” Daine said.

“Risks.” Lei grimaced. “It’s hard to say. I’ll have to channel a tremendous amount of magical energy, and if I lose control of the forces, I could end up trapped in the body of a lizard. Or I could have my organs turned inside out, exploded from within, or something else spectacularly fatal.”

Daine glanced down at Jode. “Well?”

“Don’t ask me,” Jode said. “It’s her body.”

“I can do this,” Lei said. “I know it’s dangerous, but I can make this work.” As crazy as it was, something about it appealed to her. The thought of spreading her wings, taking to the air-of shedding this increasingly strange body, if only for a few moments.

“Faith matters here,” Jode said. “We’re walking in dreams. If you’re sure of yourself, I think it’s worth the risk. But I want us to work together. Daine, sit next to me and take my hand. We need to envision her success, lend our strength to Lei.”

“What should I do?” Pierce said.

“Watch,” Jode replied. “By now, the quori may be looking for us. Keep your eyes open for any signs of attack.”

“Think good thoughts,” Daine muttered, making no attempt to conceal what he thought of this operation. Nonetheless, he sat next to Jode, took the halfling’s hand, and closed his eyes.

Perhaps it was just Lei’s imagination, but she did suddenly feel calmer, stronger. She closed her own eyes and began to build the pattern.

The magic of artifice could not be bound directly into flesh and blood, and an artificer had to tie her patterns to inanimate objects. Lei typically used her armor for this task, her green and gold jerkin. This was an heirloom of her family, said to be the work of one of the greatest artificers of House Cannith. A reservoir of magical energy lay within the golden rivets, and Lei could use it for her most difficult enchantments.

Or so she’d always believed.

Now, as Lei reached out for the mystical patterns that defined the vest, a shock ran through her. Lei had worked with illusions in the past, and this was the same sort of sensation as watching an illusion fade, revealing a strange reality. Her mental image of the vest faded away, and Lei realized that she was working her own pattern, the lifeweb she had discovered within herself. There’s never been any power in the vest. The energy I was calling on is in me.

It made no sense. Then again, natural flesh and blood couldn’t be repaired with the magic of the artificer, and she’d already proven an exception to that rule.

What am I?

There was no time for doubt. The energies she was binding had built to a critical point, and if she let her mind wander, the Sovereigns only knew what would become of her. Pushing her fears and doubts away, she focused on the threads of mystical power, forcing the divergent filaments into one coherent pattern. Finally, carefully, she laid that pattern over her own.

An explosion of light and heat spread throughout her muscles. She was growing! Her leather armor merged with her skin, transforming into huge, rusty scales. Leather flaps formed as her arms transformed into mighty wings, and she could feel her powerful tail stretching out behind her, ready to lash at her foes. For a moment she was baffled by the presence of the tiny mammals and the little metal man. Instinct demanded that she take to the air and strike these impertinent creatures down with tooth and claw. Then the fog lifted from her thoughts, and she remembered who she was and where she was. Lei. The dragon.

“That’s a dragon?” It was Daine’s voice, though it seemed so small and weak to her new ears. “I thought they had four legs.”

“This creature is a wyvern,” Pierce said. “Aside from the missing forelimbs, it lacks the deadly breath and magical power of the creatures often referred to as true dragons, compensating with a poisonous stinger in its tail. Despite these differences, it is a form of dragon.”

“I-” Lei’s first word caught in her throat. Her voice was hoarse thunder, and her tongue was not made to speak the Common tongue. She tried again, struggling to form words with a throat designed for mighty roars. “I’ve … never seen … a dragon. Best I could do.” She stretched her wings, feeling a thrill as they caught the air. Remembering the task that lay ahead, she leaned her head against the ground. “Mount!”

“We’re just going to hang on?” Daine said. He looked over at the seemingly bottomless chasm. “Oh, this is a fine idea.”

“Confidence!” Jode said, crawling up Lei’s neck. A slight ridge ran along her spine, and he wrapped his hands around one of the points, bracing his feet against her scales. “You’re dreaming. Believe , and you can succeed.”

Lei knew Daine, knew the bitterness that he carried inside, and she expected him to respond with a jibe. The destruction of Cyre had been hard on all of them, but Daine had suffered the worst. Lei had lost relatives, but the nation meant little to her, and Pierce placed greater worth on his companions than on the abstract nation. Cyre mattered to Daine, and he’d been haunted by that sense of loss and failure, both his failure to protect the soldiers under his command and to somehow defend the nation itself. And then the nightmares began.

When Lei first met him, Daine was bold and confident. He believed in his country. He believed in his abilities. He even believed in the Silver Flame. During their time in Thelanis, Lei had seen a fraction of that confidence return. It was as if something opened within him, releasing a spirit long trapped inside. He laughed, and instead of being sardonic, he actually seemed pleased. “Fine,” he said. “What do we have to lose?” With a new light in his eyes, he took his place between her wings, and Lei felt renewed joy.

Buoyed by that emotion, Lei took to the air. Flying was second nature to her. The knowledge lay in her body, the instincts just beneath the surface of her mind. The sensation of the wind against her scales thrilled her, and for a moment she forgot about the people clinging to her back. She felt a force above her, a beacon calling to the dragon’s blood within. She rose up along the edge of the Ring of Siberys, basking in the radiance of the stones. Only then did she remember her passengers and mitigate the angle of ascent.

“Where are you going?” Daine called, his voice barely audible over the wind.

Lei didn’t try to answer. In truth, she didn’t even know. The call was impossible to resist.

She saw it. The largest shard yet, the size of a castle. A hole gaped in one side, the mouth of a vast cavern. Lei dove into the tunnel beyond. The crystal walls pulsed with faint light, but a brighter spark shone ahead, a flame at the heart of the stone.

And flame it was. At last she flew into a wide chamber, hundreds of feet across. A great draconic paw rose up in the center, crystal talons curved toward the ceiling. Fire rose from the claw, a pillar that seemed to draw in heat instead of releasing it. Smaller lights were scattered across the walls of the chamber, hundreds of tiny sparks. But the great column was the force that had called to her, of that Lei had no doubt.