The Shifter's Sign

What woke me was the sound of sobbing, that and slight motion sickness. It was very tempting to open my eyes, but sober thought told me that it would be far more sensible not to. I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know how I got there. But I did know that my wrists and ankles were tied with what felt like cable ties and I also knew, by the metallic taste in my mouth, that I had somehow been drugged.

All in all then, it was going to be best not to be awake.

The sobbing grew louder and whatever sort of a vehicle we were in drew to a halt. I felt a shift in the air as a door of some kind rolled open.

The voice was rough and angry.

“Shut up you lot or I’ll pump this space full of gas.”

The volume of crying notched down by several decibels.

“Better. If you keep quiet we will stop in a while for a piss break and good girls might get a drink of water.”

The door shut and a minute or so later the vehicle moved off. I lay quiet listening. There was a bit of sobbing still, and rather a lot of 'why me'-ing. It sounded as though whoever had us had made a pretty thorough sweep of the city looking for lycanthropes, vampires and other non-humans.

There would, I thought, be at least one plant and I identified a voice which asked rather too many questions. What’s your name? How old are you? Are you a were? Etcetera. After a goodish while somebody poked me with what felt like a booted toe.

“Hey you.”

I neither responded nor moved. I got poked again. Harder this time. I rather wanted to turn on the owner of the booted foot and bite her throat out, but I wasn’t breaking my cover.

I reasoned that this was our captors’ plant. Because my own feet were bare, and I would have been willing to bet quite a lot of money on all the captives being barefoot. It’s not easy to run away without shoes. Particularly in this godforsaken country in February.

Keeping still and silent, I ran through my options. I say options it would be closer to the truth to say option, and I didn’t much care for the idea. However, it was the only game in town, so I prepared myself.

By the time the vehicle came to a halt again I was ready to throw the dice. The door rumbled open, and I could feel bitingly cold air being blown into the place. I slowed my breathing and reminded my body that it would be a very bad idea to shiver.

“Okay you lot. Out.”

It was the same loud, angry voice and by the sounds of movement and the feeling of movement all around me it was being obeyed. When all about me went quiet and still the voice spoke to the plant.

“Has that one woke up?”

“No. Not a move nor a peep.”

“Fraggit. The creature should be awake by now. And it looks like prime bloodstock from here.”

That solidified my plan, and I slowed my breathing to such an extent that I hoped it would be unnoticeable. The sound of a heavy tread on the splintered wood floor warned me that loud voice was coming. A hard hand slapped me across the face, but, aside from swearing in my own head to see his innards before the night was out, I gave no sign. I knew what was coming next and willed my pupils to be no more than pinpoints of blackness in the yellow of my eyes. He thumbed an eyelid and I saw and remarked his red bearded face before he let my eye close. He placed an ear to my chest, and I held breath.

“Double fraggit. It ain’t breathing.”

He got up and yelled. “Seth. I reckon we’ve lost one.”

I breathed slowly and shallowly.

The crunch of feet on gravel outside the vehicle announced the arrival of ‘Seth.’ His footsteps in the vehicle were quieter, but I’m not silly enough to think quiet equals soft. A slight change in the air told me someone had crouched down beside me.

“Come on, princess, open those eyes.”

Clever though the approach was I haven’t got as old as I am by being naive. I willed my body to limpness and breathed so lightly as to be—hopefully—imperceptible to the human eye. A hand picked up my wrists and I felt something cut the ties. He let go and my arms dropped. The slap across my face this time was vicious, and I added Seth to the list of those I would personally eviscerate. Other than that I didn’t react.

Seth swore. “Had to be the pick of the fragging bunch didn’t it.”

He cut the tie that bound my ankles and put his arms under me, standing up as though I weighed no more than a child.

“I wonder what this one’s other form was. There’s not enough chonk for bear or dragon.”

The voice I had pinned as ‘informer’ spoke up. “She was drinking with the wolves, and their pack master seemed very interested.”

“Double fraggit. Female wolves are a rare catch, they sell for thousands. Anyway let’s make sure she isn’t just playing dead.”

I let myself hang loose and unresponsive in his grip whilst silently hoping ‘making sure’ didn’t involve bullets. It seemed not, though, as I felt the movement of being carried away from what sounded like a metalled road and into the thick snow. He bent and put me down. Gods, it was cold. I badly wanted to scream, or shiver, or take a big enough gulp of oxygen to allow me to warm the air around me. But I did none of those things. Instead I lay as one dead while pitiless eyes watched me.

After an appreciable time Seth spoke. “It really is dead. Just leave it where it is and get the rest back on the bus.”

I heard the sound of a gun being cocked and hoped whoever would at least go for a head shot. The sound of a blow was much louder than the metallic click.

“What the frag do you think you are doing, you motherfragger?” Seth sounded furious.

“Jest making sure it’s dead.”

“Well don’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because if we leave it where it is and how it is, somebody is going to find it and it’ll be easy to reckon it froze to death somehow. You stick a bullet in it, and they gotta investigate.”

“Oh. I guess.” The voice was grudging, then it changed to thickly lustful. “Can I just?”

“No. For frag’s sake, it’s only a kid. Leave it. Find a willing one from the rest. And get the bloody females back on the bus right now. We wasted enough time on a deader. The males are already half an hour ahead, and now it’s started snowing again.”

I smiled internally at being described as a child. I’m actually somewhere around eight hundred years old, but I’m slim, soft skinned and peachy enough to easily be mistaken for a teenager—unless you look into my eyes.

While the hustle and bustle of departure went on around me the snow fell, at first lightly but it soon became a blinding blizzard. I was beginning to think I really might freeze to death beside this rough road when I felt a touch on my skin. I was being wrapped in something that looked like snow—only it wasn’t it was snowbird feathers warm from the sun. My bond partner, Moth, had found me and I called down silent blessings on her tiny head. As my body came back from the edge of freezing, I watched the loading of the bus through half closed eyes. It was time to gather evidence.

I used my camera implant to photograph Seth, his stupid companion, another hefty guy with a rifle, the plant, the bus and as many of the females as I could.

The engine started, and after a moment or two belching noxious fumes the bus moved away. It didn’t seem to me to be moving fast enough and I idly wondered if the engine might be sick. But then my brain woke up. The bus was waiting for someone. The question was who? Moth had obviously come to the same conclusion, because I couldn’t see, hear, or smell her.

He broke out of the woods in his animal form: the biggest wolf I had ever seen. As soon as his feet hit the rutted tarmac he made the change. There wasn’t a break his stride as the grey wolf became a lean, tanned human. Naked and as fine as he could be. He leapt into the cab of the bus, as I took the necessary photographs of the one who betrayed his own.

I knew he would be unable to leave without assuring himself I was really dead and so did Moth as the snowbird quilt disappeared. The cold was almost harder to bear this time and my head swam. What dragged me back from the edge of oblivion was the knowledge that the double-dealing bastard would have won if I let my hold on my faculties slip. I dragged my mind back to pinpoint sharpness and held breath. Just in time as somebody jumped lightly out of the bus and walked over to where I lay in the snow. I could feel the cold burn of his eyes and I knew if I looked up I would be skewered by their blueness. However, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Eventually he spoke, and the voice that had seduced a thousand women had lost none of its potency, but I was armoured by anger and all I could hear was the treachery that underlay his beauty.

“I guess you really are dead. In which case.”

Some instinct forewarned me what the tiny sound of a zipper portended, and I composed myself. The stream of urine was at least warm as he directed it over my face. When he had finished he laughed although it was a harsh, tearing sound that held no amusement.

“You always said you’d kill me before I scent marked you. Seems like I killed you instead.”

I heard him turn away as the acrid smell of him filled my nostrils. I mentally added his name to the list of those who wouldn’t see the next dawn. I didn’t dare open my eyes as the sockets were filled with piss, but I the sound of him whistling as he walked away pierced me like a Toledo blade.

As soon as the bus disappeared around a sweeping bend I felt the snowbird feathers settle around me. At the same time something cool and sweet-smelling was wiped over my face and neck. Moth cleaned me with care and once I was sure my eyes were clear I looked into her worried face.

“I’m okay, Moth. But I’ll see that wolf at hell gates.”

“We see him there.” My partner’s eyes were fierce. “Can sit up, beloved?”

I sat, and she cleaned my hair and neck.

“Whatever he thinking?”

“Oh. He always wanted to mark me somehow. But I wouldn’t let him. I never quite trusted his motives. Turns out I was right.”

Moth showed her teeth. “I put tracker on the bus.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Her smile grew more genuine. “Beloved is entirely welcome. What now?”

“I need food so I can make the change.”

The fairy put a hand in her pocket and pulled out a cube of ambrosia which she popped into my mouth.

“More?”

“Please. I need to put on a lot of flesh.”

“Going for big one?”

“Yes, sweet fae. The biggest.”

She kept feeding me, and I felt the beginnings of the change pushing lumps and bumps and bulges into my skin.

“One more and I’m there.”

She fed me one more cube.

“I’m there. Can you call for reinforcements while I do the thing? And, Moth, better tell them to hurry or there may be nothing left to mop up.”

After which I lost the impetus to speak, as the business of making the change took up all my attention. Becoming a fire-breathing monster isn’t a sinecure even for a Shifter as old and experienced as me. It must be done carefully, as the skipping of any one of a thousand tiny steps could spell disaster. You don’t want a wing malfunction when you are hundreds of feet above the earth, any more than you want a leak in a fireproof tube so that you cook your own innards. It pays to concentrate.

When I was satisfied that I had the body right I took a moment or two to adjust myself to dragonish thoughts and appetites. When I opened my eyes I was surprised to find Moth was no longer alone. We were surrounded by dragons. A full squadron—or as dragons have it a wing—in my estimation surrounded us. I knew their wingleader by reputation, and I was grateful that the Queen had sent us her best—although I’d know why we merited such consideration before I moved an inch.

As always, Moth knew my mind. She came to my side and laid her hand on my neck. “They say,” she explained, “dragons lost two queens in egg and some drones. Majesty is angry. Was at agency when I call for help.”

“Okay. That makes sense as long as we have the chain of command worked out.”

The wingleader bowed his handsome head and the facets of his eyes whirled appreciation of my draconic form. “The wing is yours to lead my lady.”

“Thank you…” I thought hard. “Mandrake.”

He bowed his head, both pleased and humbled that I had remembered his name. He would have been happier if he had known my name in return, but only Moth holds that secret. However, he seemed a decent beast, and intelligent, so he didn’t hold it against me.

“What is the plan?”

I hadn’t actually got as far as planning, but I was sure Moth would have at least an idea. With her body resting against my foot the mind link was possible and I could see the outline of a viable plan of action.

“We have a tracking device on the bus carrying the females, which we believe will rejoin the bus full of males before both reach their destination. When we find their lair we will see how to proceed.”

Mandrake smiled a dragonish smile. “At least some must survive to face human justice, I suppose.”

“Yes. Pain us though that might.”

Moth poked me hard in the brain.

‘No eating.’

My dragon appetite rebelled, but Moth anchored me to reality, and I beat down the desire for blood.

“It will,” I forced my lips to say, “be unfortunate if too many miscreants get eaten.”

I heard Moth sigh and silently promised her that I would control myself.

It didn’t feel like she believed me too much. I couldn’t actually reassure her, and I felt sorry about that, but being a dragon, however temporarily, brings its own set of problems.

Moth made herself as big as possible and took her seat between the ridges of my neck. I spread my wings, and she carolled her joy to be flying together. Once we were all airborne the dragon wing formed a rough arrow formation with me in front.

‘Are you in touch with the tracker?’

‘Of course,’ the laughing confidence in Moth’s mind voice strengthened me.

‘Direct me then, my dear one.’

She took the metaphorical reins and as our company gained height my heart lifted too.

‘I always forget the joy of flying.’

‘Me never,’ but Moth sounded as happy as I felt. ‘We shall enjoy the only bit of this day that is comfortable?’

I swung on a wingtip in obedience to the unspoken directions that filled one part of my mind. Below us the road meandered like a yellowish snake in the somehow grimy snow. We soon sighted the bus barrelling along at a pace that gave the lie to its general air of age and decrepitude, and once we were assured of being on its tail I whistled—in that dragonish pitch that is above the hearing range even of wolves—for more height.

‘We don’t want anybody cottoning on to the idea of being followed, do we?’

It took nearly an hour before the bus we were following caught up with the other one. I idly wondered why there had been such a hurry and felt Moth chuckle in my head.

‘This guess? They leaving road soon. Lead bus driver knows the way.’

That made a good deal of sense and also reminded me of the limitations of becoming a dragon. Subtlety of thought is not generally a dragonish trait, and I have never managed to Shift into clever dragon form. I called down silent blessings on Moth’s head and her laughter was as bright as the sky above the snow clouds.

Mandrake whistled a complex trill and I understood there to be a mountain pass ahead. I whistled back and two of his biggest fighters overtook the group to wait at the top of the pass. Only the buses never breasted the rise.

‘Where are they, Moth?’

‘Hush. I listen.’

The dragons whirled around us in a silent holding pattern, but they were beginning to be impatient before she broke her silence.

‘Went into rock tunnel, couldn’t hear them. Now out the other side I have again.’

She guided me and the wing formed up behind. We had only been flying about five minutes when Moth asked me to slow right down.

‘Buses are stopped, but I not think destination.’

I whistled and the youngest of the dragons came forward. He flew higher than we had been before and one of the older fighters snorted.

“If he runs out of air, I’m not carting his carcass home to his mammy.”

‘He be all right,” Moth said, “might have a headache.’

The cocky youngster spiralled down from his foolish altitude. He hovered in front of Mandrake who snarled.

“Report to the raid leader, puppy.”

For a moment I thought we were going to have a dragon fight on our hands—and to be honest I didn’t give much for the youngster’s chances. You could see his dragonish adolescent brain veering between bravado and the simple fact that Mandrake would kill him without batting an eyelid. Wiser council won and he lowered his crest. Just in time by my estimation. He backed air and came to hover before me.

“It looks like a checkpoint ma’am. Then a long straight road across the plain to a complex of buildings behind a wire fence.”

“Well looked, young dragon.”

He dropped to the rear of the wing, but not before I had seen the contempt in his whirling eyes.

“What is that one’s problem?”

Mandrake showed his teeth. “I don’t know. And we don’t have the time to find out right now.”

The old fighter who had spoken before rumbled in his chest. “His mammy is from the same clutch of eggs as The Queen. Has always thought that made her something special. Taught young Farsight to have a chip on his shoulder. It’s a pity because there’s good stuff under the stupid, but I very much doubt if he’ll live long enough for it to surface.”

“If he keeps acting proddy, with me he won’t. I want two of you to keep an eye on him. Acting the asshole could jeopardise more lives than his own.” Mandrake wasn’t sounding too happy.

“I’ll see to it.”

The wing master turned his attention to me. “How do you want to play this?”

Moth took over my voice. “Sun will be going down very soon. Make use of the blinding brightness of a snowy sunset.”

He laughed. “Ah yes. With perhaps a distraction?”

I took my voice back. “What do you have in mind?”

“A queen dragon. It’s a ploy we have used with some success before. A fighter can puff up his belly so he resembles a queen in egg and fly as if he was in deep distress. With any luck the miscreants will think ‘she’ needs to clutch and try to entice her down.”

“And their attention should be focused enough for a silent swoop.”

He inclined his head. “I think we are in agreement ma’am.”

Once we had a plan I just sat back and let Mandrake do his schtick. To say he was efficient was to undersell his skill. He was ruthlessly organised, and I could feel Moth laughing in my head.

“If we were looking for a mate.”

“Not us.”

She offered me a metaphorical hug.

The sun was just turning the sky the colour of molten bronze when the dragon limped over the hills. ‘She’ seemed barely able to keep above the tree line and flew as if every wingbeat cost strength she no longer had.

A voice from the checkpoint called out high-pitched and excited.

“Look what fortune is bringing our way.”

There must have been some sort of communication equipment in the checkpoint hut because a bell rang loudly in the fenced compound and a crowd of armed men swarmed out of what had to be the barracks. Once they saw the seemingly limping dragon they mostly dropped their weapons and began making encouraging whistling noises. Almost as one man they ran out onto the snowy plain, leaving only two grizzled veterans who were either too canny or too lazy to pursue the idea of a clutching queen dragon.

Moth whispered in my mind. “Don’t like this. Seems too easy.”

Mandrake was of a similar opinion because he changed his plan somewhat sending only half his dragons in low and hard while the other half lifted on the sunset thermals until they were no more than pinpricks in the sky. For a moment it seemed as if his caution was unfounded, but then…

The roof of one of the buildings opened and the sky filled with what I could only call a squadron of ‘winged monsters,’ led by a flying horse that was being ridden by the ugliest little demon I had ever seen.

“Mandrake,” I called, high and clear, and hoping he would hear, as I didn’t know the whistled signal for what I wanted to say, “tell the wing to go for the riders. I think many of the reception committee are reluctant.”

He whistled his understanding and the high dragons dropped from the sky like falling death. Their battle cries and the smell of blood on the air were almost irresistible, but I held back, knowing that my time to enter the fray was not yet. The dragon wing was professional, and its members killed quickly and neatly, leaving the bodies intact and moving with care and circumspection. Except, of course, for the proddy young fool—who couldn’t resist the siren song of bloodlust. He lost vigilance as he ripped the heart from the chest of one of the guards and lifted the dripping morsel to his mouth. Had I been less vigilant or a nanosecond slower, he would have been dead meat—but I am what I am, and my talons crushed the spine of the man who was about to sever the young fool’s neck with an enchanted blade.

And then, of course, I was in the fight, and there was no backing out. My bright talons were stained with blood and other things as I took my part in the killing feast that churned up the snowy earth and besmirched its whiteness with sunset red.

All too soon it seemed to me, the winged ones were either freed of their compulsion or dead, while humans were throwing down their weapons in surrender. Moth hissed urgently in my brain, and I turned my head to where a naked human was running for the forest as fast as his legs could carry him. Even as I saw him he began the change, but he was at bottom a coward and the thing went wrong, leaving a half man half wolf sprinting for the safety of the forest.

He never made it.

I caught him with two lazy beats of my wings, and it was the work of but a second to rip his still beating heart from his chest. I held it aloft and the scent of it almost drove me to make the ultimate mistake. I wanted to eat it so badly, even if I did know I would be sick for days. My forelimb twitched with the strain of not throwing the dripping morsel into my mouth. What did it matter if I might never be able to return to human form? Was not being a dragon a fine enough thing? Moth screamed silently in my head and her impotent sorrow was enough to bring me back to sanity.

Not thinking at all about the consequences, I threw the heart to the young braggart who ate it with great enjoyment. Until it dawned on him what he had done. His crest lowered and he bent the knee—even he wasn’t young enough to think he could avoid dragon law. He had eaten the heart of an enemy from my talons, which made him mine to command for as long as I chose.

“I am your dragon, lady.” The words must have felt like spent coals in his mouth.

I looked at him for just long enough to make his status clear before I did the only thing I could sensibly do. I released him.

“A gift made in battle is simply a gift. No fault, young dragon. Your life is yours to live as you will. I only ask that you use your days wisely.”

Mandrake dropped to earth at my side and regarded the young fighter severely.

“You are a very lucky dragon. The lady saved your miserable hide when the bloodlust took you, and now, she frees you from what could have been a lifetime geas. I trust you will take the lessons of this to heart.”

The youngling placed his chin on the floor in a gesture of self-abasement. “I shall endeavour to be wiser.”

One of the oldest and most scarred of the fighters laid a heavy claw on the youngster’s head.

“You fought well until the bloodlust took you, young dragon.”

The youngster blushed at this small praise, and I thought he might live to be a useful member of society.

Around us the mopping up process was all but finished and I felt pleased to see the captives being brought out of their prison into the rapidly disappearing daylight.

All seemed relatively healthy although they were cowed and still a little afraid.

One of the first to recover was a young female who I identified as a wererat. She came over to where Mandrake lounged at his ease beside me.

“Is you the wingmaster?”

“I am.”

“Then thank you, sir.”

“Think naught of it. Is it not a truth that lycanthropes are best pleased when they can help each other?”

“It is. But…”

He smiled and she recoiled from the sight of his gleaming teeth.

Perhaps surprisingly, perhaps not, it was the youngest dragon who took pity on her ignorance.

“Have you had no teachers, madonna?”

“No messire, dragon. Mostly none of us have. We have been loners brought here one by one. Loners don’t get no teaching. Mostly we just struggle to stay alive.”

The young dragon bowed his head in sympathy. “That must have been difficult. But I will tell you a law that a teacher would have told you as an infant. It may help you to better understand what has happened today.” He paused. “Not all lycanthropes are dragons. But all dragons are lycanthropes.”

To help her see, he allowed himself to flow into human form for a brief moment before becoming a dragon again.

The wererat sat down bump on the churned-up snow.

“Is that a for-real truth?”

“It is. And now you understand that we will help you beyond your escape from this place.”

A single tear ran down her rather long nose before she collected herself. She scrambled to her feet and bowed in every direction before scuttling back to her confederates who all patted and petted her.

The sound of heavy engines caused the former prisoners to huddle together but the youngster reassured them.

“That’s the deputies come to finish clearing up this abomination.” He turned his blunt saurian head towards Mandrake. “Permission to remain with the rescued ones.”

“Permission granted. And well thought, young one. You shall have the Queen’s authority to see that all are properly compensated for that which they have suffered.” Mandrake handed the youngster a token.

“I will bear myself with honour.”

“See that you do, young dragon.”

Suddenly I was tired beyond bearing and I felt myself losing control of my shape. I must have been visibly wavering, because the young dragon looked at me in some concern.

“Wingmaster. Is the lady ill.”

“I think not. I think just tired beyond her strength.”

Moth spoke in my head. “You let go beloved. Too weary to hold, and Moth is too spent to anchor you anymore.”

I let my hold on the dragon shape go and fell unevenly and bone jarringly back into my human form. I began to shiver as the snow and slush bit through my thin human skin. Moth was too exhausted to help me, and I wondered if this was to be my death day as the light grew too bright for my eyes.