Masterwork
Aliira made one last check of the preparations. Her laboratory was spotless from the polished stone floor to the cold fire gleaming down from its vaulted ceiling. Not a single item out of place where it might interfere with the upcoming ritual. Three circles traced out mystic patterns on the floor in salt and powdered silver, reinforced by the rune stones spaced along them at regular intervals. So full of power the heat and light they gave off turned the room into a near sauna and had driven the sorceress to strip down to undergarments hours ago.
Flesh glistening with sweat she gave herself a once over out of habit. Maybe I'm not eighteen anymore, she thought ruefully with a poke at the slight pudge on her belly and hips, I'm still more attractive than most others my age even without a glamour. And I've produced three children to carry on the House. Silk plastered to her body by the sweat every curve of her full breasts were exposed. Nipples standing taut atop orbs the size of doubled fists.
Each design and component perfectly in tune from the central mandala out to the containment rings. On to the auxiliary circles where the constituents waited. Sedated into torpor there was no danger of resistance or stray movement breaking the circles. Nor had they been easily or cheaply procured. The python had devoured more than one armsman and even now its thirty feet of muscle barely fit within the lines. And while smaller the immature dragon had damned near killed her. Even now Aliira worried of the consequences should its parents discover the fate of their offspring.
But the risks were nothing beside the prize. No mage could take a seat on the Council of Masters and begin accepting apprentices without a masterwork. For a transmuter like herself that meant one thing, create a fertile member of a new species. Was not archmagus Croatu remembered as creator of the Owlbear nearly twenty thousand years later? Or Minoru for his hippogriffs and batdogs?
No it was far too vital for worries, even ones more than a little justified. All was ready, the stone of silence outside the doors to block any disruptive influence. She took one more step back from the primary circle, looked at the cluttered table against one wall and spoke the word of command. Perched atop heaps of notes and reference tomes the tangled construction of copper wire and crystal chimed then began to play back the sounds imprinted therein. Too vital for extemporizing and getting tongue-tangled, it was well worth the cost. Aliira smiled to herself as the device flawlessly played back her voice counting down.
The double doors slammed open soundlessly admitting her youngest son. The eight year old charged heedless into the chamber face red with anger. Pure luck carried him over the primary circle without damaging it. "Mama! Lyella stole the toy warriors you gave me and hid them again!"
"Morn!" the word caught in her throat and she charged to stop him. Nimbly leaping the patterns with only one thought in her mind. To get her baby outside the danger zone. One hand latched onto his shoulder as the other gestured. Aliira tossed him into the patch of darkness conjured up by her spell to reappear at the far wall. Tears glittered in the child's blue eyes as he looked up at her from hands and knees. She heard her recorded voice count down, "two... one." And looked down to realize she stood at the direct center of the primary mandala.
At first it was a tingling feeling, but the sensation quickly grew. Welling up deep inside and spreading out through her body. The shift grew tight, then confining, and finally tore. As her body ripped its way free of the garment she stood frozen. Unable to do more than watch her own son observe the botched ritual with a horrified expression. The roof came closer with every heartbeat and all she could think was that her child had just seen her naked.
The growth halted several feet short of the ceiling but the fires within only intensified. At the edge of her vision her hands contorted. Thick scales pushed themselves from the skin, creeping down across her hands and back up the arm. As it did the fingers themselves changed as well, thickening and melting into one another until three robust phalanges and a thumb remained, capped by wicked talons.
Waves of blue erupted all over her body. The scales met at the center of her chest and to Aliira's surprise if anything her breasts only grew. Ripe spheres burgeoning under internal pressure as her changed hands groped the taut expanse. Scales providing support to the once more perky orbs. Pressure grew elsewhere as well. Concentrated at a spot just above her ass. Short, frenetic jerks at the end of her tailbone whose origin was all too obvious.
The new appendage brushed her knees, then ankles. By the time she felt scale touch cold floor it was thick as a leg and still growing. Sand rasped underneath what felt to the sorceress like her belly as it grew across the mandala. Aliira knew what that meant and tears flowed across her altering cheeks. Wide as her motherly hips now the column of blue-scaled flesh was already supporting most of her weight. Thus it came as no surprise when the elongated torso absorbed her legs, putting on a brief growth spurt as it added the flesh to its end.
Finally the last of the heat rebounded from the tip of her tail and dissipated as it traveled back up her body. Inside she should feel her hips dissolve into just another pair of ribs. Hardened reticular scales meeting to protect her vulnerable nether lips. Unthinking one talon probed the seam as if for reassurance it was still there. Claw tips plunged into her depths and a twisting, pulling sensation turned into euphoria as a second set of genitals formed further down her body where it rested on the floor.
Mouth gaping at the burning need, the pleasure, a forked tongue darted improbably far out. And her face grew to meet it. Pressing forth to Aliira's excitement and horror it subsumed her nose. Outward into a powerfully toothed reptilian maw but not that of a snake. No more tears flowed from her slit-pupiled eyes as her hair hardened into a spiny mane and ear stretched out to become broad fans. Plethora of horns jutting into regal place on cheek and crown of skull. The sorceress gave vent to a draconic roar and a gout of fire danced across the ceiling. Cold flame and hot mingled briefly. Then she looked down.
"Young man you are in so much trouble."
Light glinted off moving shapes and she turned her head away from its stern glare. Several men-at-arms ran into the laboratory, armor and weapons gleaming. The hulking orcs and dovers stopped just inside, unsure of what to do as they stared up at her. With half of her length upright in a 'standing' posture she towered over the guardsmen.
Aliira gazed down from more than twice the guardsmens' height. She knew they were hesitant far more because they didn't understand what was happening and her prohibitions on interfering with her research than any other factor. Right now they would be looking at her son, trying to decide what threat she posed. Why she had the same tattoos as their lady, what had become of their patron whose clothes were piled in one corner and scattered across the ceremonial circle.
"Momma?" Morn's voice quavered and tears ran down his face.
"Yes baby it's momma," her voice was both deeper and more sibilant but still clearly hers. The guardsmen lowered their axes into nonthreatening postures.
"I didn't... I... I," the child broke down into sobs and curled up against the wall. "I'm sorry momma!" Aliira reached down and was struck by her changes again. It was like picking up a kitten, he barely overflowed her taloned hand. Ruffling his hair with the back of one long talon gently.
"It's okay, don't cry momma is here." This only increased his distress.
"My lady," the squad leader spoke up, "What do you want us to do?" He cast a hand around as if to show his confusion.
Aliira thought for a moment, "take Morn back to the children's room. Everyone else to begin locking down the castle and sealing the gates immediately. I want nothing of this to spread until I'm ready to direct it myself." She handed the now quietly sobbing boy down to an orc. He took the weight nonchalantly, carrying his leige's child tucked under one beefy arm like dirty laundry. The sorceress hissed softly to herself and cast a gaze around.
Momentarily as lost as her guards had been while she considered. The experiment... hadn't quite gone as intended. But this isn't unsalvageable, she told herself, I can still take my place among the Masters. I have created a new species, and it's not like they really care so long as you're powerful. Master Rhianos is a pile of bones animated by necromantic energy, Sclerion changes shape so much no one can remember what he really is, and Icassu got reincarnated as a satyr.