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     He was lying on the ground, too stunned to move. The stuffhe had poured down his throat was surprisingly smooth, for about the firstsecond or so. Then it started burning away his tongue, his tonsils, hisesophagus, his stomach. It was as if the liquid was a parasite, eating himalive. He felt the urge to belch fire, but lacked the necessary parts toaccomplish it. This potion was apparently meant to be taken in and exhaledimmediately. He gathered up the will to blow outward. The resulting flamereached the branches of an overhanging tree. Though over thirty feet up andgreen, the leaves withered and caught fire, burning merrily in the wake of theblast of heat that was still spewing from his mouth.    He was too preoccupied with his present condition to notice the crowd. Had been ableto, he would have seen a mad dash for cover. Those farthest from him were backpeddling, turning and breaking into a dead run. Those in the front sufferedscorched fur and burned noses. Sybeele was momentarily stunned, not knowingwhat to do. Having his power didn't mean she knew immediately the best way touse it. If she overtly interfered, then it was going to be common knowledge thatshe was no longer a simple female stuck with a revolving menagerie of forms. Onthe other hand, she seemed to sense that her new husband was in over his head.Drinking a potion meant for a dragon was perhaps as stupid a thing as he couldhave ever done. It didn't matter if he had his spell singing ability, nor thepower of a unicorn. This stuff seemed like bottled lava, with all itscharacteristics and temperaments.

    She stood her ground despite the inferno now issuing from his mouth. If she hadbeen holding a raw haunch of meat at this distance, it would have been cooked.An idea coalesced inside her skull. Draak. She dived to the ground and crawledto his body, which seemed more like some strange fire-spewing kinetic sculpturethan a living being. His hands were grabbing at the stones and his knees werebent up in obvious pain. She only hoped he kept that blast going upward. If herolled, there were going to be a lot of people burnt to a crisp. She touchedhim, feeling his talent trying to grasp with the liquid now inside hisbody.  She touched his mind, not givinghim a choice in the matter. All at once he became a dragon again, and likebefore, without his consent or control.   His long neck snaked skyward, still belching flame. It was now easier to deal with.His throat no longer felt like he had swallowed burning coals mixed withuranium. However, it felt like his insides were home to a turbocharger, for theforce of the flame just kept coming. It was like he was a living fire hose;literally. He tried to take

off, but the force of the blast knocked him back.During all this he had the sense to keep his head high, for there were stillstragglers gawking at his new and infinitely more dangerous form. Some had beenknocked off their feet and were simply getting an eyeful before they thoughtthey would expire.

   With a sudden inspiration, he clamped his mouth shut and launched into the air. This time hegained altitude. He pumped his wings furiously, counting off the seconds untilhis throat could no longer contain the heat. One...two...three...four... He was nowseveral hundred feet in the air. He opened his mouth. The sound from theresulting explosion of fire boomed across the town and all the way to themines. The echo reverberated off the walls, shattered a few windows, and scaredeveryone working the fields.  Inappearance, it looked like nothing anyone had ever witnessed. It was ifmomentarily, a second sun had appeared in the sky.  That second sun was now racing through the sky, gaining altitude only slowly.Jon-Tom tried to get as high as he could, but speed was lost with his mouthopen. He snapped it shut again and pumped his wings. He made a quarter milehigher before he was forced to exhale. It nearly knocked him into a tailspin.The resulting flash lit up the cloud momentarily. In the next moment themoisture was seared into oblivion. He was still desperately forcing his wingsharder and harder. Whoever that old dragon had been, he must have been a lotlarger than this. On the other hand, he might not have been a flyer.  A larger mass would have helped counter theforce of his artificially generated inferno.

    Once he was high enough, he got the inspiration to turn his head until it was facingbackwards. Now he was moving forward. The problem was he was moving too fast.He locked his wings as tight as he could and braced himself for a long flight.Now and again he would shut his mouth and whip his head around to see where hewas going. He was presently high enough that there appeared to be noobstructions in his flight path. He now had time to wonder.  The first thing was, why the hell did I do that? He already knew the answer. Hejust hadn't expected this stuff to be more than very potent alcohol. Secondly,when was it going to wear off? As he was thinking this through, rather belatedlyit seemed, he heard a voice in his head. He was expecting it to be Eve, butinstead it was Sybeele. She sounded pissed.   "You're damned right I'm pissed. This stupid little stunt of yours has caused a greatdeal of discomfort here on the ground. I had to hastily diminish the effectsbefore anyone could realize how burned they were. I'm not used to dealing withthis power, and I hate being forced to use it. So here's the deal. You can comeback to town when you've burned up the last of that stuff. And you might wantto start circling back. From what I can assess, you're already a good fifteenleagues away. On the other hand, you can keep going for all I care. I'm notoffering you another drop of help until you've burned off all of that firewater! I assumed you were much smarter than this! Once this is settled, you andI are going to have a long talk!"

   With that, without letting him get in a word edgewise, she was gone. He dipped awing and cocked his head, veering to the left. He got himself as oriented as hecould and began heading back. From time to time he closed his mouth, testingthe pressure of the fires within. He was able to contain them for a longerperiod at each try, meaning that they were slackening off. It was a good thinghe had only taken a glass full. That entire cask could fuel a volcano forweeks! As the pressure subsided, he decided to make the best of it. He pulledhis head around to face the front and began blowing blasts at the clouds,watching the white fluffs vaporize back into steam.  It was another hour before he quit belching fire uncontrollably. By then, he was ableto distinguish this wyvern's natural fire for the artificial stuff over whichhe had no control. Now, when he closed his mouth, he could keep it closed. Itwas a trait he was going to need to remember. He circled Hobarrow, zeroing inon the plaza outside of Priccolo's place. There was still a crowd there,waiting expectantly for his return. His sharp vision caught sight of his wife,who was standing there with her pretty hands on her curvy hips. She had as muchfire in her eyes as he had had in his gullet.

   The crowd parted, giving him room to land. He looked around from one to another,expecting them to be upon him with pitchforks and torches. What happened was anoutburst of cheers and hollers. Everyone had watched in horror as he had thenerve to drink the stuff. The inferno coming from his mouth was mesmerizing towatch, which accounted for so many receiving burns. His transformation into adragon was unexpected. No one had any idea it was on account of the quickthinking of his wife. Of course, Jon-Tom thought to himself that if he hadretained his power, this would never have been an issue. But she was right; hehad been brash and stupid. Having unlimited power had dulled his sense ofresponsibility to those around him. He was too used to fixing things as hewent. Now it wasn't so easy.  But the folks was cheering for him. Priccolo, who in the absence of the fire breathingdragon had had the good sense to get the barrel back underground,

came up tohim. His nose was red, and his gray fur a bit darker than before. But he borehis appearance with dignity. "My Lord Mayor! We held a quick discussion, and inhonor of your new form, we have decided that a more befitting name be given. Itis, of course, optional for you to use, seeing as you already have arespectable name. But after watching the rather memorable and spectaculartransformation at the hands of this ancient brewed potion, we thought thatperhaps you might take the name Aiden Drake. In light of the impression you'vemade on us, it seems only right to give you a name for history to remember."

   He paused a moment. "On the other hand, you will hardly be fit to govern in thisform. Not only will the house be insufficient, I believe your wife will findthe burden of having a permanently altered husband much more of an annoyancethan I presume you did with her constant changes." He droned on for a while. Jon-Tomlistened to him patiently. When he found a lull, he spoke, carefully aiming hishead skyward. "My dear Priccolo." He stopped at the sound of his voice. Heexpected it to be different, but even a dragon could overdo the whole fireroutine. He sounded hoarse. "My dear Priccolo," he started again. "I have goneby many names. The sound of this new one you have chosen rings well on theseears. But as you say, my return to duty is dependent upon returning to normal."He looked straight at Sybeele as he continued speaking. "I will enlist thesupport of the wizards' guild in reversing this unfortunate side effect of thatbrew. In the meantime, I believe my wonderful wife will have to hold down thehousehold until I can revert back to something more...sizable."

    The wizard who had overseen the parchment came forward. His name was Mrillas. "MyLord Mayor. We know little about this potion, but if there is a way ofreversing it, please rest assured that we will find it!" Jon-Tom sighed mentally.There was nothing any of them could do, for the problem wasn't in the potion,but with his now very angry wife. Something told him he was going to besleeping outside for a while. She popped into his head long enough to tell him,"You're damn right!" She was so loud it made him wince. But he knew she wascorrect. What he had done was stupid, if necessary, and he was willing to takefull responsibility for it.   That left the matter of where he was going to sleep. Truthfully, as a dragon, hecould sleep anywhere. It wasn't as if bumps and lumps bothered somethingcovered in scales. He would simply need a place big enough. And fire proof.That was likely to be a necessity, just n case any of the potion was stilllurking in his system. He didn't want to be responsible for a fire

burning downthe town. Apparently that little matter had been discussed too, during hisaerial maneuvers.

    His wife spoke up, for the first time using her mouth and not her mind. "It seemsmy husband cannot come home, and I am sure he understands that I wish to be byhis side in this troubling time, but I wish not to become flattened in my sleepby his inadvertent rolling. Huntchfeld has generously offered to lend you spacein his stable until such time as your condition is reversed, assuming that itever is able to be reversed." She was doing her best to sound like the bravefemale, but Jon-Tom could tell by the edge in her voice that she wasn't goingto be changing him any time soon. And staying with Huntchfeld? The horse likelybore him a grudge now. He was hardly likely to have volunteered his space tothe man who caused him all sorts of difficulties.   But surprisingly, the horse came forward. "Yes, my Lord Mayor, I would be honoredto have you under the roof of my ancestral home. I will make certain that allof the combustibles are removed from your area. It seems we are going to bespending some time together, so I hope that you will find my hospitality betterthan you did a few days ago. I was not always so contrary. Perhaps, if youwish, I can tell you how it happened. If not, then perhaps we will findsomething else to discuss. I assure you, I am well versed in many things. And Iwould offer you a drink, but I am presently disallowed from it, and I believeyou've had enough for one day!"

   Jon-Tom could almost agree. He really did want a drink right now. But as a dragon, itwas unfeasible and impractical. He turned to follow the horse through town,where a good portion of the people watched from the relative safety of theirhouses. He would have told them that his breath could burn through and woodendoor, but why scare them with something he would never have reason to do? As itwas, his weight, while light for a dragon, was still enough to vibrate thecobblestones underfoot. His wings were furled tightly against his back, lestthey catch on the flower pots and miscellaneous other items lining the street.His mouth was clamped shut. He had no desire to toast Huntchy's tail.  It turns out, much like Lorissa's family so many decades in the future; Huntchyhad a considerable abode. To call it a stable was an insult, though it was laidout to the needs of equines. There was one large common room, with double doorswide enough to accompany the width of a wagon, which had been set aside for hispersonal use. Huntchy was quite the host. "My Lord Mayor, or if you wish,Gentleman Drake, this will be your commodious apartment until such time as youmay return to being

human. If you think I harbor you any ill feelings, restassured they were vaporized in that first blast of fire. I know your wife isroyally perturbed right now, but I think she will come around to seeing yourpoint of view. She is, after all, the reason you turned into a dragon in thefirst place, is she not?"

    Jon-Tom took a moment before answering. Apparently there was more to this horse than hehad let slip from his disguise as an ignorant, drunken sot. That is, unless hehad been informed of Sybeele's abilities by... No one knew about them except forhimself and her. She wasn't likely to tell. Jon-Tom's eyes narrowed as helooked at the horse. "You seem to know a lot more than you let on. I think youmay be correct in assuming we will have a lot to talk about. I look forward togetting to know you. And yes, she did turn me into a dragon." Huntchy whinnieda laugh. "Better you than herself. That, I think, you might not have survived!"