“Wh-what…”
Dhamon tried to say more, but found his tongue uncooperative. It felt thick and dry. He glanced down, shuddering when he saw more tiny scales flowing outward from the dragon scale on his leg.
“Dhamon, I am putting our hopes on Riki and Varek,” Maldred managed. He balled his fists, which were becoming thicker and black.
For a moment Dhamon thought he saw his old friend’s handsome human face, thought he saw him smile. Then the fleshy color was gone, turning blue, his hair becoming a wild white mane as he transformed into the ogre mage he truly was, the only son of Donnag. He towered over everyone in the pen. Black scales spread across him, racing across his chest and up his neck. His face elongated to form a dragonlike snout, and a thick ridge erupted above his eyes. Maldred grimaced as he took a step forward on legs that were becoming thick as tree trunks, veins wrapped around them like vines. His feet were growing, sprouting claws. Spiny ridges were protruding from his knees and elbows. And his hands, which could no longer maintain fists, were stretching, a double set of talons emerging from what had been his fingers.
“Hope Riki can…” No more words came from Maldred’s mouth. Instead, a long forked tongue shot out to lick his bulbous lips. He hissed, his arms flailed, knocking over another ogre who was in the midst of growing a third arm. He swung his left arm at Dhamon, striking him hard in the chest and propelling his friend several feet away toward the back of the pen. Had that been intentional? Dhamon wondered, as he struggled breathlessly to his feet. He could see the rails through gaps in the ever-thickening magical mist. Have to get out. Move!
Dhamon saw that every ogre, dwarf, and elf was in the process of transforming. None had been spared the child’s heinous spell, and none looked the same—none save Riki and Varek, who were cowering at the very back of the pen and so far seemed untouched. One dwarf was growing a second head atop the first, another was folding in on himself, becoming thick and stunted, his arms turning into another set of legs and forcing him to walk like a dog. The half-elf nearest Dhamon sprouted four eyes. The thinnest ogre was perhaps the most terrifying in appearance, becoming thinner still, looking like scaly hide that had been stretched across a skeleton. Bones threatened to poke through, and a skeletal pair of wings sprouted from his back, flapping and clacking but offering him no chance of flying away.
Dhamon shut his eyes and tried to move faster. He shuffled back a few steps, bumping into something that felt as sturdy as a stone wall—only the wall was breathing and wheezing, another metamorphosing creature. Dhamon’s arms and legs ached terribly, and he was certain they were growing or changing.
Got to get away! he told himself, as he blundered blindly. Get away. I cannot serve a dragon again. His thoughts began to muddle, and he sensed that his mind was being displaced. Hungry, he mused. I am hungry. Strong. I am strong. What is your bidding Nura? Look at me, Nura!
Nura. Nura. Nura Bint-Drax.
“No!” he howled again, his voice deeper and sounding foreign to him. “By all the vanished gods, no!”
* * * * *
“Varek!” Rikali whispered, furiously blinking. “Varek, I can move.” She glanced away from the transforming creatures, unable to stomach what was happening to them.
“So can I,” Varek returned in a hush, “but I’m not sure why.”
“It was Maldred,” Rikali answered, as she moved slowly with Varek through the slats in the back of the pen, hoping the mist would conceal their escape. “I thought I saw him casting a spell. Pigs, but I’ve seen him do magic enough. It has to be the only reason we’re free.”
Once outside the pen, Varek tugged loose a slat, shouldering it like a club. He passed to Riki the small blades he had dropped then retrieved, and for a moment considered grabbing the half-elf and running. But Riki was already moving away from him, skirting around the pen, tugging loose slats as she went and stepping through the carpet of snakes as she made her way toward the child.
“Nura!” the half-elf cried. “Stop your spell! Leave these people alone!”
Varek mumbled a prayer to a vanished god and headed after her.
Nura was taken aback. Intent on the abominations she was creating, she hadn’t noticed two of her victims escaping.
Some of the transforming creatures spilled from the pen. A few who had just begun to change fled through the broken slats into the jungle. Spawn ran after them, urged on by Aldor. Other spawn tried to herd the transforming creatures within the red mist so the spell could finish changing them.
“The little girl!” Rikali shouted to Varek. “We have to get the little girl! Make her stop!”
“No!” Varek yelled as he shoved past her. “Riki, get out of here. I’ll take care of the girl.”
The half-elf defiantly shook her head, but she couldn’t catch Varek, and a second later she found herself facing a spawn that stepped across her path.
“Pigs, but you’re ugly,” she spat. She ducked beneath its grasping claws and sliced at its legs with the small blades.
A few yards away, Varek faced Aldor. The large spawn effectively shielded Nura, at the same time spewing a gout of acid at Varek. The creature grinned as Varek cried out in pain. It let out a deep, clipped laugh when Varek crumpled to his knees.
Nura concentrated on her spell. Preoccupied, she did not see Rikali. The half-elf had slain the spawn she’d been fighting and came up behind the girl. Rikali took quick aim with one of the small blades and plunged it downward. The blade sank into the child’s back. She screamed in surprise. The bowl fell from her hands, striking the ground and spraying her legs with sivak blood.
“Fool!” Nura cried as she dropped to the ground, righting the bowl and trying to cup the escaping blood back into it. She ignored the small knife sticking in her shoulder. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done! You’ve ruined my magic. Your life is forfeit! Your life is mine! Aldor!”
Aldor spun away from Varek, claws outstretched and chest expanding as he spat at the half-elf with his poison breath.
At the same time, Varek struggled to his feet and clumsily charged Aldor. Lowering his shoulder and awkwardly barreling into the spawn, he knocked him off balance and threw off his aim. Riki took advantage of the situation and darted in, slashing at Aldor with the remaining blade. Varek swung his makeshift club at the spawn’s outstretched arm.
“Varek! Stop the little girl!” she shouted. “I can handle this beastie!”
The child had finished scooping as much of the blood as possible into the bowl and worked feverishly to reinvigorate her spell, ignoring Varek and the half-elf behind her.
“Varek!” Riki shouted. “The little girl!”
Varek reluctantly left the half-elf’s side and closed on Nura, swinging the club into the back of girl’s head. “Damned child!” he shouted for good measure. “Straight to the Abyss with you!”
Nura was barely fazed by the blow, though plainly angered at this second interruption. The air was filled with noise: the chanting, the screams and cries of the abominations, and the hissing of the snakes that writhed all around them.
“How can you still be standing?” Varek asked. He pulled back on the club again, anchored his feet, and risked a brief glance at the pen as he swung again. The horrifying sight nearly made him lose his grip on the weapon.
A few of the ogres and dwarves had completely transformed. One had six arms and an overlong single wing that flapped madly and threatened to tangle between its ankles. Another had an arm that hung limply from the center of its chest. Others were… worse.
“Monsters.” Varek shuddered, blindly striking out again and again at the girl, who seemed impervious to his blows.
“I must finish the spell!” she cursed. “They are caught between!”