A few years ago, while camping on Arran, I dragged the kids out on a walk that was supposed to be a 15 minute wander around the immediate area of the camp site. Instead it turned out to be a 6 hour epic for which we had:
- Insufficient water
- Insufficient food
- No raincoats
- Insufficient sunblock (yes we needed both!)
- No map (unless you count the tourist route guide I photographed from the side of a bin.)
We scrambled across boulder strewn scree slopes, navigated pathless hillsides, trekked through chin-high ferns, and drank from a mountain stream. The ‘high’ point was when we identified the pass back to the campsite by comparing the hill shape to photos taken from our tent on the other side. It was… an adventure.
Anyway, we went back this year and tried the walk again. We were better equipped this time and the kids were a much more suitable age. It was a much more pleasant experience, but somehow the lesser for it. On the other hand we did see some beautiful (and enormous) dragonflies.
Clouds scudded in front of the sun, draining the heat from the day. The wizard sighed and put down her sketchpad. She turned to where her cloak hung on a branch of the fallen tree that was her seat and beckoned. The cloak rose into the air, shook itself like a newly awakened dog, and wafted over to settle around her shoulders.
The swarm of dragonflies that had been the object of her attention ignored this as something completely normal and unthreatening. They continued in their hover-dash browsing of flowers mixed with occasional rest-stops on the pebbled ground. The scene had barely changed since before the time of dinosaurs. Even the ferny backdrop was passingly similar to what the wizard had seen when she tuned her scrying glass to a few hundred million years ago.
Of course, the dragonflies had been larger then. Not so big you could ride them, of course. That kind of nonsense was exclusive to movies. But still much larger than the hand sized beasts that flitted their fairyesque ballet before her.
The wizard frowned down at her drawing. She was getting better, at least. The proportions were right and her lines were becoming more confident. Still, it was frustrating that the end product was a pale imitation of the vision in her mind. Perhaps part of the problem was her unreasonable expectations. It may be that there was no good way to capture the iridescent sparkle of their bodies. Now that the sun was hidden the dragonflies shimmered less. Matched her sketch more closely.
It would be easy to use magic to ‘fix’ the problem. Her lifetime of learning the mystic arts could of course render any degree of realism onto paper. The same learning had taught her that shortcuts rarely led to satisfaction. At least long-term satisfaction. Cheating at learning a new skill was an exercise in pointlessness.
Of course, she wasn’t above using magic for comfort and convenience. Being a wizard had its perks. Expanded transport options was definitely one of them. She focussed her attention on a gorgeous red dragonfly that had landed a short way in front of her. That one would do nicely.
The wizard reached out with her mind into the weave of magic that makes up the world. There was the dragonfly an ember of consciousness. She grasped its core and unleashed the potential within. The red patches at its wingtips expanded and the lacy insect wings turned leathery as they grew. Smooth red insect hide broke into millions of scales that stretched into thick plates of armour. It became cat-sized. Now large dog. Now a small cow.
What had been a dragonfly bent its long neck to inspect the unexpected new form. It took in the shimmering scales, the fiercely long claws at the ends of only four legs. A look of pure joy washed across its now more expressive face. The creature spread its great wings and leaped. The dragon flew.
The dragon turned a full loop in the sky, then returned to land next to the wizard.
“Where can I take you, mistress?” asked the dragon.
“Wherever you would like to go,” answered the wizard.
“Everywhere!” said the dragon.
The wizard smiled and climbed onto the dragon’s back. They flew.
Brandon Lim 