Louis’s Collected Souls:
Wolf, Orc, Dragon.
The next twelve hours were a blur to Louis. He was carried to a local tavern and presented multiple flagons of mead, something he’d developed a bit of a taste for with his time spent as on orc. He had still been wearing only the coat he’d been given, but nobody seemed to mind, not even Louis.
He remembered Warwick drunkenly singing his praises and loudly reminding the tournament officials to hand over Louis’s prize money. He remembered somebody returning his sword, which he’d accidentally left in the throat of the dragon, and the blacksmith proclaiming to the room that he was the one who’d forged it. He remembered the return of the boy he’d fought, happily shaking his hand and thanking him for a good match. He remembered countless strangers asking for a demonstration of his powers, and him standing naked and unabashed before them as he switched between wolf, orc and human. Some even made requests, and he had to sheepishly inform them that these three were all he could do. He did not show them the dragon. He didn’t think that would be well received.
These drunken memories mingled seamlessly into snippets of dreaming. He dreamt of flying, mainly, through storm clouds and clear skies. He also dreamt of molten rock, of fire and lava. He dreamt of darkness, a darkness that was old and angry and returned.
He woke with a pounding headache, but that was the least of his troubles. Though he had every reason to be happy, to be energised by his triumph, to be delighted at his newfound fame, he felt sad. Today was a sad day.
He didn’t know when he’d made up his mind. Maybe at some point last night, now lost in his drunkenness. More likely he had always known and only now realised it. But the instant he awoke, he knew he would be leaving Stonewater today. And he would not be going home with Warwick.
How could he go back? In just a few short days, his life had completely changed. His body had changed -literally- more times than he could count. After all that, how could he just go back to the farm and resume his old life? Would he use his powers to help around the farm? Befriend the local wolves and rope them into protecting the sheep? Use his orc strength to aid in the harvest? He had killed a dragon, a creature that until a day ago he believed only existed in fairytales. And this wasn’t the only story of monsters he’d heard. The gypsies had seen it coming. There was a change happening in the world and Louis was part of it. He remembered the drive he had felt to fight that dragon, remembered that strange feeling of duty. Going home now felt like turning his back on it.
He did not rise immediately, there was no need to hurry. He doubted Warwick would expect him to help at the shop today. However, he felt he’d rather leave without Warwick knowing. As much as he wanted to say goodbye, he knew there would be awkward questions and this was something that Warwick could never understand. So, in time, he got to his feet.
He packed only the essentials. At first, he packed just one change of clothes, but reasoned he was more likely than most to lose or tear a set along the way, and packed a second. He’d lost his loincloth in the arena, and so packed the kilt he had fashioned from the curtain. He packed his sword, of course. He put it in the harness scabbard and wore it on his back. Since he intended to travel as a human he wouldn’t be able to draw it, but it didn’t fit in his sack. Lastly, his prize money, which should see him right for good while.
He thought about leaving a note for his brother, but wasn’t sure what he’d say. But since he had no quill or parchment -nor was he much truck at writing- he was relieved to dismiss the idea. Instead, he spent a few minutes neatening his room, making his bed, clearing the wardrobe, and leaving all he wasn’t taking in a neat collection on the table. That way, when Warwick came searching for him, he would know that Louis had left deliberately, and hadn’t been kidnapped or killed. Then, with no more reason to delay, he headed out.
First, he went to the stable where his pony, Pearl, was kept. He had decided against taking her, but she had been his for years. He couldn't leave without saying goodbye. As he stroked her mane, she watched him calmly, no idea this would be the last time. With a flash of dark inspiration, he thought about killing her. That way, he could take her soul with him and use her speed without the inconvenience of feeding and lodging her. He dismissed the notion fast, angry with himself for considering it.
The second he left the inn, he heard somebody call his name. He froze, scared it was Warwick, but it was a stranger. A portly man with a rosy face scurried over to him. He supposed it was one of the townsfolk he had shared a drink with with the previous night.
‘Louis!’ he beamed. ‘Great to see you! What are you-’ he caught sight of Louis’s travelling sack. ‘Are you leaving?’
‘Um. Yes,’ said Louis. He thought it better to tell the truth, hoping this information would not reach Warwick.
‘No! Stay! We want you here! You’re one of us now!’
‘Sorry, but I can’t. Other towns to save, other dragons to slay.’ He laughed nervously.
After some persuading, the man let him go on his way, only for him to be recognised again a few steps later. This kept happening as he hurried for the city gates. If he didn’t get out quick, he feared they’d arrange a parade to see him off, or some other palaver, and there would be no evading Warwick then. He cursed himself for showing off his powers so much last night. He could have done with a form they hadn’t seen before.
He took a shortcut down a back alley and made it to the gate without being stopped again. He was able to smile about it once he’d set foot on the stone bridge that led out across the lake. It was odd, being so widely admired. He wondered, with a smug stab of pride, if he would find a statue of himself, should he ever return here.
The bridge was a lot longer, now he was on foot. He felt strangely exposed, convinced Warwick was watching him from the city. Though he was convinced something would stop him, he reached the shore without trouble.
The bridge opened out onto a stone road, forking off in four directions. There was a signpost in the middle, but Louis didn’t need it. Instead, he looked at the sun and figured out which way was north. The gypsies had fled south, that's what the gossiping women had said. So he pointed himself in the other direction and headed toward danger.
Just a few short days it had been, when all he had ever known was the valley where his father’s farm lay. Just a few short days since he had been afraid to leave that place and so desperate to return once he had. If he’d known then that he wouldn’t be going back, he would never have left. Now, the open road was before him and it was exhilarating. It would have been quicker by cart but he was in no hurry. It might have been safer as an orc but bandits hardly scared him any more. There was a strange pleasure in not knowing where he was headed.
After an hour’s walk, Stonewater vanished behind the horizon. He was far enough but kept walking, looking for the right spot. The rocky plains became rockier still as the road rose up into mountains. Louis didn't meet another soul on the roads but still he wanted a secluded spot. After another hour, he found it. He spotted a knarled tree between the rocks a little way off the path, the first tree he'd seen after leaving the city. He clambered across the treacherous rocks until he reached it. Just as he suspected, the trees roots dipped into a wide, still pool, rainwater that had collected between the sloping rocks. Still enough to offer a perfect reflection.
Louis looked back at the road before he stripped, stuffing his clothes into his sack. Now naked, bare feet keeping his footing on the rough rocks, breeze playing over his bare skin. He balanced the sack and sword in a nearby crag, making sure it was secure, then lowered himself into the pool.
The cold water just came past his knees, making him shiver. He waded a little ways in, casting long ripples across the smooth surface. He waited until they had completely faded before he called the dragon forth.
The dragon had been quiet inside his head. Louis wondered if he was getting better at controlling new souls. Or perhaps the dragon had simply accepted it's new master without a fight. He had no fear of the change this time, feeling pretty confident about it now. However, as the dragon filled him, size, strength and fire charging through his body, he was so overwhelmed that he stopped it after only a second.
He breathed. His heart was aflame, though it did not burn him. The pool was so much smaller now, the water only reaching his ankles. His body was caught partway through the change, mostly human with a taste of dragon, although that taste was very flavourful. He had doubled in height, but his body parts had not all grown evenly. His skinny frame was stretched across a narrow skeleton, with giant muscles on his arms, legs and shoulders, but barely more than skin around his hips. His hands and feet had grown far larger in proportion to the rest of him, as had, he noted with a grin, his genitals. His jewels less so, which were tighter than he was used to, but his prick was long enough to touch his navel, which it very nearly did now that the skin of his shaft had fused against his belly. Incomplete, the tip still hung loose, bobbing conspicuously as he wriggled. A skin covered tail had erupted from his buttocks, whipping back and forth behind him. His neck had lengthened, allowing him to crane his head about himself to get a proper look. And once the water had settled again, he inspected his face in the reflection. A cluster of horns had sprouted from his crown and his nose had widened into a pointed snout. He was still covered in pink, human skin, but here and there were darker splotches, almost like bruises.
Hungry for more, he allowed the dragon to proceed, albeit gentler than before. He continued to grow, the difference in proportions becoming more pronounced. His skin thickened as dark scales erupted across him. He felt his helmet bounce against his belly as his foreskin finished attaching itself to his body. He let out a reptilian screech as his bollocks lurched upwards into his groin. Feeling between his legs with a large, clawed hand, he discovered they had been stuffed into a cavity there, a pouch, and with a flex he could expel or withdraw them at will.
His curiosity absorbed by this strange discovery, he did not notice as his shoulders rose above the seclusion of the pool, did not notice sharp teeth fill his black snout, barely registered as sharp spines erupted one by one down his long neck, along his back and to the very end of his swishing tail. He was only distracted by a particular highlight of the change. Wings rose out of his shoulder blades, small at first, but with each experimental flap his wingspan lengthened. Wide, leathery and bat-like, they enveloped him like a shroud.
He felt rocks digging into his shins and realised the crevice was not as roomy as he'd first thought. He lifted a monstrous foot out of what was barely a puddle to him now and planted it on the rock. He had to extend his wings to keep balance on his hind legs, not wanting to drop to all fours yet. Raised to his full height, he could see down the mountain and across the plains beneath. Straining his golden eyes, he could just make out Stonewater on the horizon.
He drooped his long neck back down towards the pool, where he found his tiny sack and sword. He scooped them into his massive, long fingered paw and, with a single flap from his massive wings, he launched himself upwards.
Now this was freedom. With only a few strokes of his wings, he was diving between the clouds. He twisted playfully through the air, letting himself fall and rising up again. The cold air rushed across his thick hide and as it whipped through his legs he very quickly learned the purpose of his new pouch.
Green plains and craggy mountains stretched beneath him, separating small hamlets and towns. Already he had covered more distance than he had on foot. Flying came so naturally to him, he couldn’t help wondering about another famous skill of dragons. Breathing fire was less intuitive, however, and after a few fruitless retches, the dragon in his mind took over. With the guiding hand of a teacher, it showed him how to push the flame out of his heart out up into his throat. Louis opened his mouth and sprayed golden embers across the sky, evaporating clouds in their wake.
After one last roll through the sky, Louis reoriented himself with the sun. He tucked in his legs, lowered his head and sped north, wondering what foul monster or beast could dare challenge him now.