《Ivan and the Black Riders》


 The Dogs Head

    Ivan had severed necks before, but this kill made his hand tremble on the axe. The dog''s head thudded to the obsidian office''s floor, eyes facing him and still filled with unquestioning love.


    Vladimir, the Dragonlord''s man, smiled. "Good. You''re willing to follow orders. Go on up to meet your new master. Bring the head; we''ll clean up the rest." He signed a scroll and offered it to Ivan.


    Ivan''s wrinkled hand twitched with an urge to bury the axe in Vladimir''s skull for demanding this one little proof of loyalty. He clenched his teeth and set the blade down, taking the paper instead.


    "I understand perfectly," said Vladimir. "Many of our recruits have mixed feelings. But your pet is in a better place, now, and no longer suffering. What''s done is done, and miracles await you in our master''s cave. Don''t waste this chance that you''ve bought."


    Ivan wanted to make the man care, to wipe the smile off his face. He looked one last time at his dog''s grin. He murmured a prayer, picked up Laika''s blood-slick head, and turned away to climb the long mountain trail.


    #


    The cave''s guards weren''t human. Ivan froze, looked at the wolfish muzzles peeking out under their hoods, and felt the weight of the head in his hand. The guards only sniffed, making puffs of breath in the mountain air. Ivan held out the scroll. The wolf-men glanced at it, then stepped aside.


    Ivan hobbled into the cavern and was instantly warm. The walls looked like they had been gouged by claws and melted smooth. A forge''s glow lit the end of the tunnel. No, not a forge. Like a work in progress by some mad smith, the famous dragon seethed with red light between iron-dark scales. The Dragonlord stood on all fours without need for a throne. The white-hot eyes on his massive head burned into Ivan''s vision as he said, "Another petitioner. Speak."


    "Your man said to give you this." Ivan stepped as close as he dared, holding up the scroll. "And this." He shuddered and set Laika''s head onto the ground, making no move to wipe off his hand.


    The Dragonlord spread his wings to touch the cave''s walls. Firelight lived in them and exiled the shadows. "Friend of yours?"


    Ivan nodded. It took more of his will to avoid looking at Laika''s head than to keep from running away from the massive, glowing dragon. The killing had been a merciful act for a dog already sickly and dying of old age, with Ivan not far behind. It was better for Ivan to live than for both of them to die. Or so the officer had argued.


    The dragon''s nostrils emitted steam. "Vladimir is creative with his tests."


    Ivan finally noticed that there was a woman, hidden like a dim moon beside the sun. She was much more human, standing on two legs and no larger than Ivan himself. Her scales were white and soft blue. She approached Ivan and took the scroll from him with clawed hands, then paused to look at him. She was with child. Ivan felt a moment of vertigo, as though the world had expanded. He''d come home to the sleepy mining village he''d left decades earlier, to find not just a sorcerous dragon and a mighty city, but still more dragons on the way! Maybe she was slowly changing from a woman into a dragon. It was said that the Dragonlord -- Petrov was his name -- had once been a man. Again he resolved to live longer, to see what new wonders there could be.


    The dragoness held the scroll up to Petrov''s left eye. The Dragonlord rumbled. "As I thought. My lieutenant says you''re a former mercenary with a good head on his shoulders. You wish to be young and healthy again? Then join my Black Riders."


    Ivan straightened, feeling the weight of years seem to lift from him already. He guessed: "The wolves outside?"


    Petrov tapped dagger-length claws on the floor. "Exactly. You wouldn''t cross one of them, would you? You''ll have the brains of a man, and be healthier than you ever were while killing some tribe of goat-screwing bandits or bowing to your local Tsarevich bastard. You like hounds, yes? All I ask is that you become mine."


    Ivan stood in the hot cavern, staring at the dragon. He''d come this far; he''d made a sacrifice. If the Dragonlord wanted to change him, it was worth accepting. He lowered himself to his creaking knees and said, "Yes, my lord."


    Petrov smiled and shrank. Ivan startled. The Dragonlord had become human, a young man in flame-colored robes. He paced around Ivan, casting shifting shadows. "What shall I try? I''ve been experimenting with my powers. I could make you a nice stealthy black wolf, or white with powers of healing and inquisition, or red for battle. Maybe a she-wolf? They can fight. Or even a pup that I can put through a few extra years of training."


    So many possibilities, instead of death from a long, rough life! He''d been a careful fighter, prowling the edge of battle. "Black, please?"


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    Petrov nodded as though it were a request for breakfast. Then he spoke a word that seemed to set Ivan on fire. Ivan yelled and collapsed to the stone floor, writhing.


    He lay on his back, panting. His tongue hung out to one side of the muzzle that filled the middle of his vision. Ivan slurred when he tried to swear. He sprang to two feet before he''d even realized how quick and easy the motion was. Young again! His new claws traced over dark fur that made him shiver.


    Petrov inspected him. "Congratulations. If you serve well, I will find other rewards for you. See Vladimir for housing and other arrangements. I feel like flying." He strode past Ivan and grew again, transforming, springing onto four clawed dragon feet. Molten iron dripped and sizzled on his growing wings. He gave a roar of joy and might. Then the great burning eyes turned to him again on a serpentine neck, and Ivan''s new lord said, "You and I will build a better world together." Petrov flew away, leaving a final wave of hot air against Ivan''s new fur and shredded clothes.


    Ivan stared. Decades of life, granted so casually! A miracle! He murmured, "Thank you, Laika."


    His ears flicked, another new sensation. The dragon-woman was still here. Ivan said, "And you are?"


    "Alexi." Ivan wouldn''t have heard her if not for the echo. It was dark here now, but her slitted eyes shined. "His sister."


    Ivan bowed and nearly fell onto all fours. "Thank you for your brother''s generosity."


    Her tail hid behind her. "It isn''t. He has bought you. Make the best of it."


    "I will, my lady." He realized that he was seeing her, and the table of books and maps beside her, despite the dimness. Wolf''s eyes. He had been not only made young, but improved! If he was to serve, he should do it well.


    #


    He spent a happy winter in Petrov''s city, Bogatyr. Ivan had expected to be feared and shunned for being part wolf, but most people welcomed him in their taverns and shops. He was, after all, a favored agent of Petrov''s newborn "Opritchnina," an unofficial empire within the Tsar''s empire. At night Ivan watched the black dragon tear into the mountains with fire and claw, carving more space for forges and armies, mines and homes. The Dragonlord had brought the hope of a better future into the world. The people drank their vodka in his honor.


    The training was brutal joy. One morning, Ivan was laughing as he got up from a beating by Ivan''s human soldiers. They''d been too quick for him this time! He''d learned to shift into the shadows and become a nearly ordinary wolf, but he''d not quite mastered the trick.


    Vladimir was watching. The agent wore a perfectly white uniform with epaulets like iron scales. "I have proper work for you, at last. You will visit the western border, and buy horses."


    Ivan panted in the cold air, and tilted his head. "You''d have better luck trading with the Kazakhs in the south."


    "You''ll be going with Liet. She has her ways. I hope you don''t mind working under her." The officer grinned.


    Ivan saw too little of Liet, a white wolf who focused on her own specialized training. He had a different view of the situation than a younger man might have. "I''ve known bright women who''ve run shops and managed farms." He flexed his clawed hands. "The wolf gift will give women opportunities, I think. How widespread does our lord plan to make it? Will he change everyone eventually?"


    Vladimir said, "I believe that''s the long-term plan. But His Majesty is still learning what he can do, since becoming a dragon. Still stretching his wings, farther and farther." He spoke louder to address the soldiers Ivan had been sparring with. "You are part of a new people, for a new nation. Hail our lord, and hail to you! Take a rest."


    Ivan followed him to the same obsidian office where Vladimir had demanded one small sacrifice. He shuddered. The map of his mission brought up memories too, of being a peasant boy with knowledge of only a tiny circle of reality. He''d imagined that walking for a day beyond his fields would bring him to the land of spirits, of Baba Yaga and Grandfather Frost and the Tsar -- all equally mythical. What would it do to the average peasant to see talking wolves invade their bubble of the ordinary?


    Vladimir broke him from his thoughts. "We want to establish the Opritchnina''s control over a bit more territory. Go to these border villages. If you can''t meet your horse quota -- I''m sure there will be enough -- you are to put the towns to the torch. Understand?"


    As a Black Rider, Ivan was the hand of Vladimir, who was the left arm of the Dragonlord. The hand does not question its owner.

 Beasts Of Burden

    "Beast Tsars!" The villagers were whispering it. The dozen human troops who''d come with Ivan and Liet tried not to laugh. Ivan''s new tail wagged in amusement. There were legends about animal kings and queens. Ivan''s ears had already caught the soldiers speculating about him and the white wolf. Actually, she''d been formal enough to make him keep his distance. Perhaps later.


    Liet sat on a midnight-dark horse like Ivan''s own, with her pale fur shining in the sunlight. She was busy negotiating. "Not enough horses, you say? That''s not a problem." She held out one hand and made it glow. "The Dragonlord has shared his power with me. He can give you a new life of adventure -- as a horse."


    Ivan looked over at her, startled. He and the troops hadn''t been told about this!


    Liet hopped down from her steed and strutted. "Is there anyone here who''s sick, or old, or lame? I can make them young and healthy again, in my lord''s name. Think of it! A chance to see the world and be part of an amazing new nation. Food, travel, affection."


    The villagers were too stunned to answer at first. Then a young man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, saying, "Me! Me!" He had a look of childish glee.


    A frost-bearded man walked forward. The people made way for him. "Good sirs, our people are not for sale." The villagers argued. The old headman said, "No! Would you spit on an icon of the Holy One for money? Would you sell yourself into slavery?"


    Ivan saw Liet''s ears flick back and her face struggle to suppress a growl. Liet said, "Let those who are willing, come forth."


    The volunteer was still grinning. "Please, miss. I''ve always wished!" The elder tried to pull him back, but he wriggled free and bounded up to Liet, too close. "Please!"


    Liet said, "You heard him. Would you deny the boy his dream?"


    The elder shuddered. "The Mishavich boy there is simple. Maybe God meant him to be a horse. But no one else! You''re asking men to become less than men."


    "It''s their choice," said Liet. "And is it really a lesser life --"


    Ivan winced and tried to interrupt, but Liet went on: "To live as a horse than as a poor peasant, stuck in one little hamlet?"


    The villagers grumbled, closing ranks with the elder. "Is that what you think of us?" the man said. "You <i>oborotyen</i>, you wolves call us subhuman. Mishavich and the sick and old might have no better choice than to go with you, but that wasn''t what you were talking about. You think that an able-bodied, sane man would improve his station in life by crouching on the ground at your noble feet and letting you strap a saddle to his back!" The man stepped forward to jab a finger in Liet''s direction. "Why is that? Because we''re poor? Because you''ve read more books? Did God appoint you as our master? In fact, does our Baron even know you''re here, or are you skulking around like thieving dogs?"


    Ivan heard his soldiers lay hands on their swords. He nudged Liet and flicked his ears and tail to convey, "Let me handle this." He''d been a proud, poor villager once. He said aloud, "We mean no insult. I''m sorry. You are fine men and women, and we meant to offer you help and money. Why don''t we just take the sick and old and that boy, the ones who''ll most benefit as you said, plus any ordinary horses you want to sell?"


    Liet whispered, "Quota."


    "We''ll make it up at the next town." He held his ears and tail at a stern angle.


    Liet drooped. "All right."


    Six people stepped up despite the headman''s protest. Liet and Ivan led them to a camp outside town, where the soldiers had pitched a magnificent dragon-patterned tent for their wolfish officers. The volunteers included an ancient man who wept with joy at the prospect of more years of life; Ivan sympathized. There was a woman with ruined, frostbitten legs, and so on. Ivan kept an eye out for trouble, but watched Liet to see exactly what she would do.


    Liet touched the villagers and smiled. Their flesh flowed. Thick hair sprouted from their skin, new muscles bulged, and they looked themselves over in wonder as they grew. The boy cried out in delight when he saw his fingers swelling and merging to give him hooves at last. The six dropped to all fours with their growing muzzles hanging low, and their eyes... Their eyes were turning black. Ivan shivered and looked away. Those soulful, dark marbles made his fur bristle.


    A few minutes later, Liet was brushing them down, reassuring them. Ivan asked quietly, "Do they keep their minds?"


    "Mostly. On our next trip I expect we''ll ride some of them instead of our ordinary horses. Nice to have a mount that understands speech and can be trained much more."


    Ivan looked toward the village his presence had touched. It was barely visible through the forest from here, and it had not changed, seemingly. Was this to be a world of wolves and horses? Even the greatest of the new recruits would live in a stable and be ridden.


    #


    Another village, years ago. His mercenary band rode in, desperate for food, smelling of blood. The townsfolk said they had nothing to eat, but they were rabbits. The warriors tore into them, biting necks, eating them...


    Ivan woke up yelping. He found bits of flesh stuck to his claws -- no, only a shredded blanket. He sat up, covering his inhuman face with his hands, and panted.


    "What is it?" said Liet. Her eyes shined in the dark.


    Ivan tried to shake the ghostly scent of fire from his mind. "Nightmare. With too much truth in it." He spoke to fill the silence. "My band was hunting a group of Kazakh marauders. We got careless and ran out of food and water. There was a village where we started making demands, first out of desperation, then for fun... God knows I did terrible things as a man. What will I do as a wolf?"


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    "You''ll make up for it," Liet said.


    "I''ve been doing that ever since. I don''t want to burn any more towns. What will happen when a village says no to Petrov?"


    Liet sat up and put her hand on him. "We''ll make the best of the situation, then. Make sure that the people understand what we need, and how they''ll benefit. It won''t have to turn ugly."


    "I have a new life. I want to use this one well." His breath had slowed, and he could focus on the comforting smells of the safe tent, his belongings, his fellow wolf...


    "We''re building a better world," she said. "We ought to enjoy it."


    Ivan''s ears perked curiously as he tried to judge Liet''s expression. He was surprised by what he saw in her, and by her warm scent. Liet let Ivan tug her closer, onto his lap, and she wrapped her arms around him.


    #


    Later, only Ivan was awake. He dressed and crept out of the tent. No lingering nightmares, now. It was the grey hour before dawn. He saw the horses, old and new, staked so they wouldn''t run off. Was that really necessary, for the new ones? "Policy," one of the soldiers had said. Ivan looked around the camp, and noticed that their sentry was asleep like everyone else.


    He was about to kick the man, but he heard leaves rustle. Ivan crouched and listened, then crept toward the noise. Just a wizened peasant woman, peeking at his camp from the forest around it.


    She spotted him, somehow, and called out. "Your lordship! Oh, my. The stories of wolves in the forest are true."


    Ivan stood, relaxing a little. She smelled of turnips and there was no sign of anyone else. "What are you doing out here, <i>babushka</i>?"


    The woman leaned closer to peer at him, more curious than afraid. "I suspect your travels will take you to a town called Bolshoy. Its people won''t do as you ask. Please, spare them."


    "How did you find us?" said Ivan.


    "I hear tales, good and bad. You Black Riders are becoming a legend. What sort of legend, I don''t yet know."


    Ivan circled her and frowned. How had this woman learned he would come here? He sniffed the air and noticed that the rich, earthy scent on her was only on the spot where she stood. She''d left no trail, or even tracks.


    He darted closer and seized her arm, snarling. "You''re deceiving me. Explain yourself or I''ll fetch my men!"


    The woman gave him a long, sad look... And then she glowed. Ivan hopped away from her. The crone stood straighter and became a tall figure with scales like snow, a long tail, and a dragon''s muzzle.


    Ivan fell to one knee. "Lady Alexi? I''m sorry!"


    She smiled. "My brother would be proud of your skills, Sir Ivan. But I really am here to ask for mercy for Bolshoy. Put any blame on me." Her scent had shifted to something otherworldly and cold. "I travel the world in the Dragonlord''s name, trying to temper his demands with kindness and justice. I don''t think the town ahead will sell you horses. The people are too proud."


    Ivan looked up at the dragon-woman, feeling a knot of worry begin to unravel in his gut. "But I''m under his orders."


    "I''ll make him understand." Alexi sighed. "The Opritchnina might become a wonderful country someday, but Petrov is headstrong. He takes what he wants, because he knows he''s using it for a good cause."


    Ivan stared at the dragoness. Even now, everyone else lay asleep. Bewitched? His gaze drifted to the swell of Alexi''s belly. He remembered that Petrov''s sorcery didn''t seem to allow for making more dragons by magic, not yet. "If I may ask, my lady -- who is the father?"


    Alexi looked down. "The Opritchnina needed more dragons, to increase its might, and the miracle that changed us made only two. I never agreed, of course. But in hindsight it was necessary. For the good of the country."


    Ivan leaned down with both hands on the dirt, stifling the urge to retch. "You want to temper that with mercy and kindness?"


    "He just wants what''s best for all of us. Until he can make more dragons the way he does with wolves and horses, it''s my duty." She seemed to be speaking to herself. "It''s not right for me to complain. I have a good life."


    Ivan shuddered and steadied his stomach. He looked up at her slitted eyes, averted from him. "The Devil never lacks defenders."


    Alexi stepped away from him and bowed, as one might do when leaving a king''s presence. She faded into the dark woods. Ivan looked up and saw a white dragon that seemed to tarnish the rosy sky. One who could have been queen of another, better country. Ivan''s mission made more sense to him, now. People were raw materials for Petrov''s dreams. He''d been sent to give men the dubious gift of becoming beasts, by a man who found it practical and right to rape his sister.


    #


    The others stirred soon after Alexi was gone. The sentry stank of fear when he saw Ivan. Ivan whispered to him, "Sleeping on duty? You''re forgiven, this time." It wouldn''t do to tell him sorcery was at fault.


    Ivan''s steps carried him back to Liet in their tent. She saw his expression, so he told her everything. When he was done, he was standing stiffly and she was crouching, claws on a pillow.


    Ivan said, "We need to make this next village see, if we can. I''m not going to burn it." Maybe everything would be fine. His tail wagged for a moment.


    As for the news of Petrov and Alexi, she had already suspected. "We can''t undo that. But we can do good work with the power he''s given us."

 Agents of the Dragon

    The Black Riders passed through more villages, bringing wonder, enchantment, and money. They always made quota, if barely. Each hamlet had horses for sale, or people willing to sell themselves. Ivan told himself he was helping to build a better world. Then came Bolshoy.


    Over a thousand people''s homes huddled for warmth on a hill''s slope, like a little version of mighty Bogatyr. Ivan and Liet and their men -- and their horses which had been men -- wound through fields of rye. Ivan scowled when he realized that this was the local Baron''s main estate, and that his mansion stood here. Ivan said, "We''ll be doing this under his lordship''s nose."


    "Perfect," said Liet. "We can appeal to him or to his people."


    "They won''t hate him, you know. A bandit chief is nicest to his neighbors."


    Liet nudged her horse ahead along the dirt trail. "So, we''ll go to him first."


    That much was easy. They had not even reached the town when they spotted five riders, one carrying an orange banner on a spear. Ivan had his group stand in line abreast, just in case.


    "Agents of the Dragon of the East, I take it," said the Baron. He had a gigantic mustache and a sash embroidered with griffins. Those creatures supposedly ate horses.


    Liet took over. "Your grace, I bring greetings on behalf of the Dragonlord. He is aware of your hesitation to join him earlier, and understands completely. As you can see, he is now able to work miracles." She gestured to herself and Ivan. "My lord''s new power bolsters his case that God has chosen him to rule this land, and more to the point, that he can protect you and your people more effectively than some distant Tsar."


    The Baron tugged at his mustache, hiding his expression. "He makes wolves, now? Were you man or beast before?"


    "Human," said Liet. "Is there anyone in your household who is old or sick, who might benefit from a new body?"


    The Baron glanced aside as though trying to measure the shadow of the unseen Tsar. "There may be. But what I hear is that you two are not making wolves as you pass through my lands."


    Caught, thought Ivan. This nobleman must have some good, swift informers. He had another man hiding in tall grass downwind, too. Clever.


    Liet said, "No. The form of wolves is reserved for those he most favors, such as any of your own household. He has sent us instead to purchase horses. Whether they be horses or men today."


    "Interesting. Do you believe, then, that God is on your master''s side?"


    "Of course," said Liet. Her tail ducked in a way that the owner of any dog would recognize as hidden guilt. Ivan felt his own do the same thing.


    "And you?" the Baron said to Ivan.


    "I don''t presume to speak for God."


    "Well said. In any case, we have no horses to spare, nor men. My own lord commands me to the field soon with as many as I can muster. He would be surprised if I arrived with fur, though I expect I''ll envy you come winter."


    Liet said, "Bring us women and children, or ponies unfit for combat. We have a quota to meet, and will reward you."


    The Baron leaned forward conspiratorially on his own silver mare. "Is that it? This dragon of yours sent you to market with a shopping list -- so many horses from every town in my land? That seems less like a friendly gesture than like wagging your tails in my face. Taking my people away." There was a scent of anger.


    "They were all volunteers, and we paid handsomely," said Liet.


    Ivan added, "These were people who wanted our help. The process makes them young and healthy again."


    "Yet they only get to be these." The Baron stared at the horses that were still traveling with Liet and Ivan. "I can''t tell which were human. You must have impressed that dragon to have become talking wolves instead. What did you do to earn his trust, to be the ones on top of the saddle?"


    Ivan felt the insides of his pointed ears burn. His hands held the reins tighter. "We served."


    The Baron looked delighted. "As I suspected! It''s something you don''t want to admit. I''ve had men ask for promotion by boasting of their battles, or of being good at administering beehives and forests. Worthy accomplishments. But you two remain silent."


    "Enough!" said Liet. She lowered her voice again. "If you have no desire to make a deal today, that''s all right. We will attend to our mission in the town, among your people."


    "The hell you will."


    Liet said, "You care about your people, don''t you? If they come to us and say ''make us healthy, make us young'', would you tell them no? Would you kill them rather than let them make their own decision?"


    The Baron started to speak, tugged at his mustache, and spoke at last. "Your group is not welcome here. These are my people. That is all." He turned away too late to hide his expression, giving Ivan a moment''s satisfaction. The man was as nettled as Ivan himself.


    The Baron''s party wheeled around and rode back toward the manor house, but Ivan saw the hidden man in the grass continue to watch. Ivan signaled to Liet: "Not safe. What now?"


    The white wolf stifled a growl. "Camp at the outskirts, to save face and think."


    #


    They rode to within arrow-shot of the town and pitched the great tent. No one came to them. The horse-wrangling soldiers smelled nervous. One of them spoke up: "When will we go in, sirs?"


    Liet said, "I have a plan. You''re dismissed." She turned to Ivan. "We must get our horses. Tonight there will be plenty of shadows, and the Baron''s men won''t spot you. Go to the people and make our offer directly to them."


    The plan was sensible and dreadful. Ivan walked behind their tent, shed his clothes, and put his hands to the ground. He willed his body to join with the shadows. He stretched and shrank and felt his thumbs shift away, his face tilt forward to become a wolf''s entirely. The night grew brighter for him and filled even more with the smell of crops and the filth that all towns had. He let a guard tie a padded money pouch to one of his hindlegs. Then he was off, trotting toward Bolshoy, afraid of what he had become.


    Ivan crept through the night, murmuring to himself. "The dark wolf comes to take you away, to bring you bright silver coins in return for what you are. The bright wolf comes to take you away, to threaten you with the shadow of leathery wings." Ivan prowled, perked his ears, and sought out houses that might let him in. "You can have the dimness of an animal''s mind, or the brightness of burning houses. Your free choice!"


    He smelled anger and blood. They took him toward a wealthy house where he could hear a man beating someone. In time, the door opened and someone fell out into the dirty street. The door slammed shut again, so that Ivan was face to face with the weeping, battered teenage boy who''d been shoved from his home.


    "Hello," said Ivan through sharp teeth. "My master offers you his help. Come to the tent outside this town if you want a better life."


    There was a cutpurse walking the street too. Ivan gave him a wolf smile and said the same thing. The man backed away and ran -- but he dashed in the direction of the camp. Ivan counted him as a maybe. Then there was the drunk puking his life away in the alley behind the tavern, who made Ivan cover his nose. Ivan awkwardly pulled out a shiny coin and bought his attention. That was two or three. Enough to justify sparing this town. In the morning the people might spread tales of a Beast Tsar who prowled the street and led unhappy folk away, never to be seen again.


    "What''s that? It''s one of them, somehow! You, stop!" Ivan found himself caught in the beam of a hooded lantern, flashing over his eyes. He cursed and ran from the Baron''s guards. Plenty of shadows. He led the men on a chase that distracted them from his new recruits. His own cleverness backfired, though, by putting him in an alley between two shouting men.


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    Ivan said, "I was just leaving." He sized up the guards that towered over him. Their spears trembled. He could end this night with violence, but decided there was enough in the world already. "I hurt no one and stole nothing. And look: money!" He whipped off the coin pouch and flung it at the wall beside him. Glittering coins splashed. The guards charged. Ivan sensed that one man was going for the coins, and dodged past him. Escape!


    Ivan hurried out of sight and then slinked the rest of the way. All three of his recruits were making their way toward the tent and the wolf who could make them -- more? Or less? It didn''t matter, so long as it was their own decision to make.


    Ivan changed back and dressed. Liet was watching, saying, "That was quick."


    Ivan said, "It was close. The Baron''s men were there."


    The three townsfolk listened to Liet''s offer. The drunk, the weeping boy and the thief all seemed incredulous despite talking with two "Beast Tsars" bearing the crest of the Dragonlord. One legend was as fantastic as another. Ivan added something to Liet''s speech: "There''s a wider world beyond your town. We can show it to you."


    "At a price," the cutpurse said.


    Liet smiled. "One that involves free food and a warm roof and people to love you for the rest of your life."


    The disowned boy said, "Can we... could we pick exactly what kind of horse?"


    The white wolf caused her hands to glow like shrouded moonlight. Ivan sensed that she''d been verbally feeling the three out like a sharp merchant. "For you? Certainly. I''m thinking... a sleek black coat and a silver mane. Perhaps a mare?"


    His eyes widened. "That''s perfect."


    The drunk shook his head hard enough to dizzy himself. "No way, dogs. I ain''t no mare with a damn saddle on my back." He started staggering back downhill toward the town.


    "That''s not a problem, sir," said Liet. "We can make you a nice big stallion instead. Chestnut and brown? Picture everyone watching you in a parade, and how proud you''d be."


    The stinking man looked back over his shoulder, trying to focus his eyes on Ivan and Liet. "A parade?"


    "Through the capital of our empire, with the Dragonlord himself passing out medals and a wreath just for you."


    The man stood there breathing foully for a moment. "I... ain''t never had a party for me. I''d like that someday." That was two.


    The robber said nothing. He only began creeping away. Liet spotted him. "Sir, come back!" Then she turned to Ivan with sudden panic in her scent. "Bring him back! Even three is barely enough."


    Ivan hurried downhill after him. "Wait. We can pay you, or your family."


    "Got no family. Leave me alone."


    Liet called out, "A pure white horse, brave and battle-hardened?"


    "No, you crazy bitch!"


    Ivan chased him and seized the man''s arm. He had to suppress an instinct to dive, to bite his prey''s legs. It was easy to swat aside the kicks and knock a knife out of the thief''s hands. It was harder to justify to himself what he was doing. "Shut up and listen to Liet," he said. "She''s got a good plan for you. Just listen."


    "I did. I''ve got no use for money if I''ve got no damn fingers. Now let go."


    Liet caught up. "Okay, not a white war horse. Something stealthy and dark?"


    The thief broke out of Ivan''s grip. He took a swing at Liet''s face, saying, "No!"


    Liet growled and touched him with glowing hands. The thief''s fingers, long and delicate and scarred, began to shrink away. All but one, with a swollen, darkening nail...


    Ivan said, "Liet, wait!"


    "It''s already started," she said, gritting her teeth in concentration.


    "Stop it!" the thief shouted. "Don''t do this! I don''t want it!" His arm thickened and dark hairs sprouted all along his skin, under strained fabric. The man was gouging at his own skin with his other hand as though he could pry his fingers back to the right length.


    Ivan smelled fresh blood under the thief''s fingernails. He let go of the man and gave him a shove away from Liet and her magic. When Liet started forward, Ivan got in her way. But the thief was changing faster now. His chest barreled out until his clothes shredded around him. The man ran as fast as he could, but stumbled. He could only stand and take another few steps before his spine rearranged. The change forced his head lower down and his misshapen hands back to the ground.


    Ivan said, "Undo this. Now."


    Liet''s tail hid between her legs, and her ears were low. "I can''t."


    Ivan pushed Liet down after the man. "Figure it out!" She staggered and stopped just short of the thief. She and Ivan were just in time to watch his darkening face stretch out, and to hear a long scream that faded into a horse''s whinny. The man was down on all fours, covered in sweaty hair and rags, and he would never stand upright again. He would never be even a thief. Those dark eyes glittered in the night, fully aware that part of his mind was fading behind them.


    Ivan stared. "Can''t you...?"


    "No," said Liet.


    Ivan crouched in the grass, on all fours himself, and spewed his dinner onto the hillside. He tasted acid and smelled a frightened animal that his instincts said was prey. And so it was.


    The white wolf said, "We needed him. We already explained it''s what''s best for him, and it was for the sake of the town too. He''ll be happier this way. I had to change him so that he could find out what it''s like. Once he''s used to it --"


    "You''re babbling," said Ivan. He wiped his muzzle, then his arm. He could hear the frightened horse and the men who were coming to grab it, to slip reins onto its head for the first time.


    "I had to do it, Ivan! I was helping!"


    Ivan sat up, feeling cold wind cut through his fur. "Liet? What did Vladimir ask you to do, to join the Black Riders?"


    "To stab myself there and then, and trust them. The Dragonlord was waiting for me."


    "He always is, isn''t he? For anyone who wants a master."


    "I... I need to attend to the others." Liet went back to the other two recruits and gave them her best smile. "There''s no need to worry. Hold still."


    They did. Ivan still didn''t trust himself to stand up without getting dizzy and sick again. By God, those two men stood there and took it rather than fleeing for their lives! They would make good horses.


    Soon there were two beautiful and dignified new animals. One of the Black Riders'' guards approached Ivan and saluted. He was leading the third horse by its bridle. "Excuse me, sirs. There will be more from this town, right?"


    "No!" said Ivan. "Buy some, or even steal them. I don''t care. We''re not making more this way, not here."


    Ivan sent their men into town, but the result was worse than before. "Sirs, the guards are too alert for stealing, and the word is out that any man who sells a horse sells his head."


    "They''re stubborn," said Liet. "We pushed them too far."


    Ivan scowled. "Then we''re done here. We ride to Bogatyr."


    The guard said, "But the quota..."


    Ivan loomed over the little man and growled until he shut up.


    Liet said, "I agree. We''ve done the essence of our orders: get horses, with a strong suggestion that we get them using the spell our lord gave me. We''ve strengthened the Opritchnina''s position for when our lord claims this land."


    Ivan thought aloud. "It never was about the horses, or about helping people. It was about taking control and making people love us for it." He caught sight of the third new horse, who no longer resisted. It would be the love of slaves for a kind master.


    "We need to burn the town, sirs." The little guard looked into Ivan''s eyes. "Orders. We can do it and escape."


    Ivan shook his head. "We ride back east."

 The Silver Wolf

    The next morning, the soldier and the swiftest horse were gone. Ivan sniffed the trail. "He''s gone ahead to inform on us. Maybe Petrov will make him a rat."


    The trip home passed quietly, except for the nightmares that woke Ivan up in Liet''s arms. "Will he understand?" he said, when she tried to comfort him. The Dragonlord was not kind or generous.


    Liet nuzzled his shoulder and brushed her nose through soft fur. "He wants what''s best for everyone. We''ll make him see."


    Ivan shuddered. He forced away thoughts of the Dragonlord towering over him, and focused his mind and hands on Liet.


    #


    Cold wind and the scent of forges. Ivan saw Bogatyr by night as a fuming mountain, pushing up from the world and glowing with smoke and steel. The city walls were a little higher now. The people were building them with love and enthusiasm for Petrov, their master.


    Vladimir questioned Liet and Ivan in his office. The next evening, the Dragonlord sent for them.


    The two wolves walked the last mile up the trail. Petrov waited in the cliffside cave, lighting it with the red glow between his scales. Alexi was there as though she had never moved. Petrov said, "Tell your story." His tailtip shined like a branding iron.


    Liet did. Ivan added, "We''ve expanded your control over the region."


    The forge-dragon''s head loomed closer. "I believe I told you to burn."


    Liet said, "Yes, sir. But we obtained horses from the towns, won goodwill from most of them, and showed your power at the last. Killing people wouldn''t have accomplished anything at that point."


    Ivan thought of the elite order he''d joined. "Sir, the Black Riders have the potential to be known as heroes or villains. The people have begun to tell tales about us already, to call us Beast Tsars and to say we command magic in the name of a mighty lord. So far we''ve done what we can to make that legend a pleasant one."


    The Dragonlord shouted, "Fool!" Flames licked around his muzzle. Ivan felt the wash of heat and the scent of embers. He stood very still. Petrov said, "I have a plan. I made the Black Riders to be a weapon, one that brings benefits to the obedient and horror to those who defy me. I made you wolves, not rabbits!"


    Ivan found himself panting. He and Liet stank of fear already. "It was my decision not to burn the town." He looked to Alexi; he would not blame her for protecting the innocent.


    Petrov said, "Oh. You''re defending your partner. How touching. I''m also told that you let a man go."


    Ivan shuddered, thinking of the thief who tried to flee. "Also my decision. We don''t want to force people --"


    A massive forefoot slammed Ivan sideways into the stone wall. Ivan heard Liet shriek somewhere amid the whirl of pain. Petrov gouged his chest with one claw and flipped him over to land on his back. Ivan stared up at the burning eyes. Petrov said, "You dare tell me what I want?" The head loomed closer, and the voice grew louder until it began to burn Ivan''s fur. "What did you think I meant when I said you''re mine?!"


    Ivan tried to speak, but the breath had been slammed from his lungs and he could only rasp. Petrov looked to one side at Liet. "Heal him."


    The white wolf rushed to Ivan''s side and put her glowing hands against his fur. She whispered words of comfort. Ivan gradually felt the world focus again, though his skin still smoldered and the molten eyes were judging him. Ivan managed to breathe and say, "My lord. There was no point in changing him. He said no."


    "Of course there was! If a man signs his life over to me, I want him without caveat or exception. I don''t rent souls. What do you care what he wanted, when you had already decided he should be a horse? Speak!"


    Ivan feared to answer, but those eyes wouldn''t let him go. "I''m sorry, sir."


    "Sorry? So, next time, if I tell you to find ten children and tear their guts out for reasons of my own, you will do it without complaint?"


    Ivan felt the weight of Petrov''s claws, and the hellish scent of the dragon''s breath. Petrov''s forces had only asked one little favor from him at first, and then a little more and a little more. That road would go on forever to depths beyond the sight of mortal men. "Not to tell you your business, sir, but is this what you want? To have your tale be one of horror and slaughter and tyranny?"


    In answer, Petrov''s claws stabbed Ivan through a lung. He felt his chest collapse and his muscles shudder. The dragon shouted, "I am right! I will give people what''s best for them, even if I have to beat them into accepting it!" Ivan was too fascinated by the bright blood welling from him to have an answer. Petrov flung Ivan in the direction of Alexi and said, "I broke my toy again. Fix him."


    Ivan tumbled and crashed onto black stone. He saw the white dragon woman over him now, like the moon after the cruel sun. Visions flashed before him of a glorious dragon queen who smiled at her subjects. Then, instead, he saw the truth. There was a kind and wise woman, gifted with power, who stood behind her brother and tried to mitigate evil. To make poison more palatable, to shift guilt onto her own shoulders, to explain why rape and oppression and murder were all for the best. He glared up at the dragoness who even now reached to magically heal his wounds. With what little breath was left in him, he said, "You could''ve been a hero."


    Alexi hesitated, giving Ivan a look that made him want to weep. She knew, and she was trapped here forever as the Devil''s kindly mistress. She said, "You, too."


    A laugh ripped through Ivan, sending blood out from his mouth. He could have refused to murder poor Laika, but instead he''d begun to make excuses himself, to make the Dragonlord''s demands a little less cruel. Worse, he was someone who''d had a choice. Unlike the peasants whose first contact with the Opritchnina was a gang of wolves announcing how things would be. He couldn''t stop the shuddering, hysterical laughter now even though it would kill him.


    "What''s so funny?" demanded Petrov. "Fix him, Alexi. I want your hands on him."


    Of course he did. Fire and darkness danced at the edges of Ivan''s vision. What fun was torturing a man without making your allies participate, without making sure their souls were stained too?


    The dragons spun above him. The white dragon whispered: "Submit. Give him what he wants. Then you can work within his system." Her spells were beginning to patch up his shattered chest and refill his lungs with liquid flame.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Ivan gave the scream of a dying man, and pathetically swung his hand to slap the dragoness'' face. It couldn''t harm her, but it made her misery a little more unbearable. Good; maybe someday she''d stop bearing it. She stared at him in shock, then returned to healing him. Her witchcraft felt better this time as it flowed through him, mending. Lying on the hot stone floor still hurt. Reluctantly, because it made lightning seem to stab all through him, Ivan staggered to his feet. Why not stand? It might damn him a little less than kneeling.


    "Did I tell you to stand?" said Petrov behind him. Ivan turned slowly, aching, and saw sparks drip from the Dragonlord''s iron-black jaws.


    Ivan reeled and laughed deliriously. He saw silver trails in his vision whenever he moved. What would it be this time? Ivan saw Petrov''s blazing tailtip ready to brand him. He backed away, holding up his hands.


    Petrov said, "You''re not whimpering like a puppy. That means you''re tough enough to still be useful, if you understand. Liet, what did I give you?"


    The white wolf edged away from him. "A new body and a new life."


    "And what do you owe me?"


    She hung her head. "My life."


    Like a patient teacher, Petrov smiled at Ivan. The smile glowed with flame. "I help people, and in return they obey. She understands. Do you? I won''t really tell you to slaughter children."


    Petrov would, as his very next order. Ivan found it easy now to see the road he''d been following, and where it led. The echo of the healing magic and his own dazed vision left blurs around his hands.


    It was better to die running from that, than to bow down to it. He dashed right past the dragon. He saw massive claws swipe at him, and he dived -- onto all fours, shifting to his animal form without meaning to. He felt even faster now. Having a dragon behind him was encouragement. Petrov raged, "Get back here! You''re mine! You promised!" Ivan risked a backward glance and saw Petrov stomping his forefeet like a spoiled child.


    Ivan was outside now, suddenly cold. The moon rode high over Bogatyr. Silver light streamed down onto the city of red forges. He wasn''t thinking clearly, but there had to be someplace to hide. He hurried toward the nearest firelight, like ancient wolves who''d made a bargain with men to become dogs. A massive smithy stood out below. He hurried down the trail toward the complex of buildings, to where he might hide.


    A shadow passed across the moon. The burning dragon was in the air, screaming obscenities at the heavens. Ivan prayed that he wouldn''t be spotted. But his paws seemed to make splashes of moonlight wherever he ran, and the foundry building was drawing closer with more speed than ought to be possible. Even when he tripped and tumbled down the mountainside, he landed on his feet. "Alexi?" he thought. "Did you do something to me?"


    A guardhouse. A soldier jumped to his feet and stared. Ivan swerved past him toward the main building that towered over him. He could smell the burning of coal and ore inside. And above!


    Just in time, Ivan sprang to one side. The Dragonlord''s flaming breath rained down close enough to singe his whiskers, yet the rippling hellish air didn''t hurt him. He yipped. Petrov had grazed the rooftop of his own forge with his claws. A chimney toppled and vomited dark smoke across the heavens. Ivan felt the ground shake when it hit. He grinned, getting an idea. The Dragonlord was clumsy about what he destroyed.


    Ivan searched for a way up to the forge''s roof, and found loose piles of bricks to climb. He shifted back to his human-like form so he could scurry up a pipe. Then he was standing on top of the Dragonlord''s forge, just in time to see its owner coming for him.


    The Dragonlord filled the sky with his own spiderweb pattern of flame-cracked scales. There could be no stars, there could be nothing at all, existing outside of his control if he could help it. After all, he knew what was best. There would be fire again, a single-minded strike. Ivan decided to welcome it. He gestured at Petrov and shouted, "Come down, lord of dogs!"


    Petrov did. First was the fire that splashed everywhere and set the roof alight. Ivan felt that it was falling slowly. Ivan leaped and dodged and seemed to dance on the flames. Then came the dragon himself, and there would be no dodging that. Ivan moved to the roof''s edge, quick as moonlight on water. Only the great burning wings struck him. They sent him tumbling, clawing at the building. Everything shredded under the tons of Petrov''s bulk. Chains hung everywhere. Ivan seized one and swung toward the floor. A gigantic vat of molten metal filled much of the forge, and Petrov slammed into it. The impact rang so loud that Ivan whimpered.


    Liquid steel sprayed in droplets from the dragon''s wings. Some of it was what passed for his blood. Ivan heard outraged demands from Petrov, over the hiss of spilled metal. The few workers here screamed and fled from the glowing, deadly tide. The walls had caught fire. Petrov''s wings were cracked and torn, but he still lived. Ivan found a gaping hole in the walls, and vanished into the night before his former master could follow.


    His body still shined with silver on dark fur. The light was fading now to more subtle accents, a hint of new magic granted to him by the Dragonlord''s sister. His steps were long and his eyes and ears keen. All around him, the people of Bogatyr were waking to a night of destruction. Who dared harm the Dragonlord''s forges, his plans for war and domination? For the moment, no one could see Ivan. No one but the white dragon wheeling in the sky.


    #


    Throughout the Opritchnina and the lands beyond, stories grew about the Black Riders, who brought people to their mighty lord''s embrace. More quietly, the tale of Ivan spread. He moved in the shadows beneath the reach of black wings. By word and deed he was said to whisper to the people. "You need not submit. He can be beaten. He must be beaten. Strike your master and run!" He had found purpose in this thankless work, perhaps redemption. But his heart was not glad until months later, when he learned that his words had touched a single soul. She came to him as a white wolf whose paws made splashes of moonlight when she walked, and they embraced.


    The End