A Threat and an Embrace
Of Dragons and Alchemy, Chapter 1
When the metal tube opened, bright lights and loud sounds assaulted Gabe’s eyes and ears, completely disorienting him. He was too busy blinking and squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to notice how much more beautiful it all was — though, granted, he was in a warehouse-style lab that wasn’t exactly designed with beauty in mind. He stepped out of the tube that had been way too big for his puny, bony pre-procedure body, but barely held his new enhanced and much larger and more muscular form, and immediately lost his balance.
He would probably have fallen on his face if Richard hadn’t caught him, murmuring softly, “Oops! Wow, those are some nice muscles there. Hands off, Richard. You’re a married man. Wow.” Gabe realized later that Richard likely didn’t mean for him to hear any of that, underestimating his new and improved hearing. (In the moment, Gabe was too overwhelmed to respond and, later, he didn’t want to embarrass his friend, so Richard never did know that Gabe had heard.)
As he found his equilibrium, the swish of an arrow cutting through the air registered and, before Gabe consciously recognized the threat, huge wings burst from his back and wrapped around both Richard and Aaron, pushing the three of them to the floor as Gabe went to his knees. The arrow exploded against the hide of one wing, and an acrid burst of smoke filled the air, leaving Gabe’s eyes watering and coating the back of his throat with a sharp metallic tang.
Pushing himself to his feet, Gabe spun around and leapt into the air toward the catwalks halfway up the walls toward the vaulted ceiling. When he’d first walked into the lab today, the size of the building had overwhelmed him, a vast, cavernous area that made his tiny body feel even smaller in comparison. Now, though, he was grateful for the space that allowed him to stretch out and get some speed as he followed the path of the arrow back to its origin. The attacker had fled, and Gabe followed the sound of running feet and panting breath as they fled down a staircase and out the nearest door, strong wings propelling him through the air faster than anyone could hope to run.
Landing just long enough to run through the door into the open air on the attacker’s heels, Gabe leapt back into the air and a moment later swooped down to strike the attacker’s shoulders and knock him off his feet. Rolling onto his back, the man glared up at Gabe with eyes full of insane religious fervour. “Glory to the Swarm,” he hissed. His eyes rolled up into his head, white foam gurgled over his lips, and his body went limp and lifeless.
Pressing his fingers to the attacker’s neck, Gabe growled in frustration when he found no pulse, and slammed his fist into the sidewalk — sending large cracks radiating outward through the heavy paving stone. Slowly, he lifted his hand, turning it to see the skinned knuckles. The injury — and even the pain — was substantially less than it would have been yesterday, or this morning.
Rising to his feet in the bright mid-morning light, Gabe took stock of himself now that the adrenaline pounding through his body was fading away. He was just outside what appeared to be a clothing store on what was probably a busy street when it wasn’t barely eight in the morning. The ground — or rather sidewalk — cool and hard under his bare feet seemed a lot farther away, which meant he was significantly taller, and every part of himself that he could see was bigger, although his hands and feet had always seemed oversized for his puny body and now they seemed to fit. None of this new body really felt like him, though; it was almost like his mind had been transplanted into someone else’s body.
Remembering his flight here, he reached over his shoulder with one hand, but found only smooth skin on his shoulder blade where the wings had been. Aaron had said nothing about retractable wings when he’d briefed Gabe before the procedure. Or wings at all, for that matter. Of course, Aaron had warned him that the magical component of the procedure could never really be predicted. Gabe hadn’t really known what to expect, except that he would be stronger and healthier. It was a dragon thing, but still… wings — retractable wings — weren’t something Gabe would have ever guessed would be part of it.
Gabe trails behind Richard and Aaron as they follow Sebastian Percival into the observation room for his lab. The huge space beyond the wall-length window reminds him of his own experience in Aaron’s lab a few weeks ago, but something here feels not just different, but off; there is a superficiality to Percival’s friendliness, and a coldness to this whole affair. Even the lab itself seems colder, the colours paler, the light both brighter and whiter. Before the dragon procedure, Gabe hadn’t felt anything like this kind of — what? hunch? premonition? Maybe he has some kind of dragon intuition now. Or maybe it’s all in his head. He hasn’t really had time yet to get used to his new body and abilities.
As they settle into seats facing the window, Percival begins to explain the procedure they’re about to witness. Richard and Aaron listen with interest, as apparently this isn’t just going to be a repeat of what they’d already accomplished with Gabe himself — it’s some sort of “bigger and better” that sounds like a whole lot of sciencey words and also sounds like a lot of self-congratulatory bullshit. Movement on the left in the lab below distracts Gabe — it’s Percival’s head alchemist Herman Zaal with a dark haired man about Gabe’s age who practically radiates unease. His head is bowed and shoulders curled in as if he’s trying to make himself smaller. Wavy, disheveled dark hair falls over his brow, hiding his eyes. As they reach the centre of the room, they stop and turn to face the huge metal tube nearly identical to Aaron’s, but with additional tweaks that have no purpose Gabe can see. Gabe sucks in a sharp breath as the dark haired man’s left side comes into view as he turns. He is missing his entire left arm. Where the arm should be, and obviously once was, all that remains is a stump of the shoulder and a mass of angry reddish scars. He curls in on himself, as if he is cold, or as if he is trying to hide the missing limb.
“Yes, we believe that we have taken your research to the next level,” Percival says, his boastful voice catching Gabe’s attention. Is he responding to something Aaron or Richard had said? In any case, it’s even more obvious self-congratulation. “While you were able to improve upon what was already there, we will recreate what is missing.”
“I see.” Aaron adjusts his glasses. “I would like to see the formula you are using.”
Richard shakes his head, frowning. “This sounds significantly more dangerous than what we did. I see your alchemists are wearing protective gear, but what about your subject?”
Percival waves a hand dismissively. “There is no real risk. The protective suits are only a precaution. And you must allow me some professional secrets, Abraham. I can’t just go telling my competitors everything, now can I?”
“And what kind of security do you have here in case the Swarm tries something like they did with us?” Richard asks with superficial indifference. It’s a good question. If there’s one cultist bent on murder, there’s bound to be others. Gabe doesn’t know that much about the Swarm cult, but they always seem to be either killing someone or trying to kill someone.
“Ah, yes.” Percival smiles. “That old religion. Don’t worry — my security is the finest you can get. We have nothing to fear from fringe cults or extremists of any kind.”
Gabe’s fingers curl into his palms as his gaze returns to the young man below, the “subject” as they called him. He holds his one arm tucked close to his body and, after his initial glance at the machine, bows his head again. Gabe frowns. “He looks scared.”
Since Gabe doesn’t know any of these people, maybe it is just Gabe’s imagination. And the biggest danger around Gabe’s own procedure turned out to be a Swarm cultist who was ultimately a much greater danger to himself than to anyone else. But Gabe can’t shake the feeling he’s right. And if Percival’s subject truly is afraid… maybe he has reason to be.
Percival shrugs, turning his unconcerned attention to Gabe. “Weren’t you nervous before your procedure?” Of course Gabe was nervous, not that he would necessarily admit that aloud but you’d have to be insane not to be nervous going into something like this — but something about this other man here for the procedure today tells Gabe this isn’t nerves but fear. Percival turns to look out the window, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Of course, I did hear you were quite the tiny ball of rage, so you probably refused to show it.” He turns back to Gabe, a bland smile on his face.
Gabe’s eyes narrow, focusing on the man who’s managed to rub Gabe the wrong way with every single thing he’s done or said so far. Fingernails dig into Gabe’s palms and he speaks through a tight jaw. “I don’t know my own strength yet, Mr Percival. Would you like to test it?”
Aaron lays a hand on Gabe’s arm in a quiet reminder of Gabe’s increased emotional volatility and impulsiveness since the dragon procedure, but he holds Percival’s gaze. “Sebastian.”
Lifting a hand palm forward, Percival steps back. “Apologies. I only meant that our subject is a little more… willing to show his emotions. He’ll be fine.”
“Mr Percival, if I may: we found that one of the side effects of the procedure was… an apparent increase in emotional volatility.” Aaron squeezes Gabe’s arm. “It amplifies everything that is inside.”
Percival nods. “Yes, we read all about that in your paper on the subject. Rest assured that we have made accommodations. There is nothing to worry about.”
Richard raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. Aaron simply nods.
Below, Zaal adjusts an intimidating array of knobs and dials while his assistant helps the subject into the machine, strapping him into place . One strap goes around the man’s forehead, pulling his head up and back, and making his face fully visible for the first time. His eyes dart around the room full of fear, and Gabe leans forward, gripped with a sudden wild urge to crash through the window and carry him off to somewhere safe and far away. He restrains himself, though, since surely the alchemists know what they’re doing. Surely this man has consented to the procedure, just as Gabe had. Surely they would listen if he were to voice second thoughts at this point.
Zaal steps back and folds his arms, watching the machine as it begins to whirr and hum. So far, everything appears to be pretty much the same as it did when Gabe went through this. Then, suddenly, the hum rises in pitch to a painful level, the dials begin to spin drunkenly, and Zaal is waving his arms and shouting at his assistant.
Gabe stands and takes a step towards the window, unsure what he can do, but certain he has to do something. A cloud of white smoke — or maybe steam — rises from both sides of the machine as if twin giant tea kettles were trapped inside, filling the lab with clouds of white. Then the door beside them bangs open, and Zaal stumbles in followed closely by his assistant.
“Doctor Zaal?” Percival frowns at him. “What’s happening? Has something gone wrong?”
“Yes!” Zaal shoves his tiny glasses up his nose with one finger. “We need to get out of here.” He waves wildly at the window. “Do you see the levels on that? The power’s going through the roof! And I mean that literally! I can’t shut it down!”
Richard steps toward the window, his hands coming out of his pockets — a sure sign something worries him. “If it keeps rising like that,” Richard says, peering at the readings through the swirling smoke, “leaving the building won’t save us. Hell, leaving the country may not.”
“And what about him?” Gabe points at the still closed machine, his words clipped with frustration at their callousness. No one made any apparent effort to free the man they strapped into that thing before fleeing the room — they just left him behind. Has everyone but Gabe forgotten the “subject”? “We can’t just leave him in there.”
“He’ll be fine — as will we,” Percival says dismissively. “This facility is built to the highest standards of safety.”
“You don’t understand.” Zaal steps forward, his voice and hands shaking. “If those levels keep climbing, nothing will protect us!”
A loud crack underscores his words as the window dividing them from the lab below begins to give way. Everyone in the room jumps a bit, flinching away from the window as though it’s about to shower them all in shards of glass. Which it probably is.
“We must evacuate the building,” Aaron puts in, and Richard nods in agreement, grabbing Aaron’s arm to pull him back from the cracking glass.
Gabe shakes his head sharply, pushing his anger away to focus on what needs to be done. “There’s no time. I’ll stop this.”
He turns away from their shouts of protest and pushes past Zaal at a run to leave the room, slamming the door behind him. With his dragon-enhanced abilities, none of them can possibly stop him.
Bursting through the door, Gabe pauses for only a second at the sight of the dazzling sphere of fire that is expanding toward him. Heat caresses and presses into his exposed skin — it feels less like a threat and more like an embrace. He plunges into the flames.
Esther learned to read when she was four years old, and began writing shortly thereafter. She is a queer Christian poet, crafting with words to create art and music.
Thank you to Charlotte M Spurrill-Kayser for her help with plotting & writing this story.