The group of nerds standing in line for WyvernWorldCon were proposing different names for the event. The registration line was indoors in one of the hotel's cavernous convention halls. While bored, the hundred early attendees bantered. "It ought to be DragonWorldCon; the logo has arms! What if it were Asian dragons? Come on; any *real* fan would call those Longs."

Dave kept quiet while waiting; he had a presentation to give tomorrow. When he got to the registration desk he found the reason for the slowness: uncaring bureaucratic hirelings in grey, making people fill out paper forms despite the online registrations. The one bit of the process he liked was the choice of badge art. He could get either the cool rampant dragon or the lance-wielding warrior on dragon-back. He shrugged and grabbed the first one, and got his name plastered onto that.

It was Thursday evening and Dave was hanging around in the gaming room of soundproofed, ugly maroon sliding walls. Someone distracted him from the video game he was playing, by waving from a table of dice and rulebooks. "Want to join?"

"Oh, is that Wings Over Dacia?" Dave grabbed the free chair to join the gamemaster and three other players.

"Just the intro game, but yeah. I'm one of the designers."

"Cool. I'm working on Lair Lords."

"I signed up to fund that!"

Dave grinned. The fundraiser was going well but he had a lot of work before the computer game would be done.

The Dacia game was about battling Rome's legions and mystics as a heroic dragon rider from eastern Europe. Dave got handed a character sheet for an armored archer. The group played through a quest about smuggling foreign cultists in from Judea in return for blessings in battle.

"That was fun," said Dave, "but I'm surprised there aren't dragon stats."

"Those are in the advanced rules; not done playtesting those with my group. Besides, the focus is on your character, with bonuses to what moves you're good at."

One of the other players said, "I'd kind of like to play as a dragon."

"Bah, why?" said the gal who'd played through a heroic dive-bombing strike. "The dragons probably spend 90% of their time in a stable."

Dave said, "I think they'd do a lot of scouting and exercise. Even if you assume they're not human-smart, like in this game."

A hotel employee in grey pants and shirt, of an antique style, was scribbling on paper from a nearby chair. Dave and the others turned to look. "What?"

The man said, "Nothing," bowed, and left the room.

#

Dave went to the elevators after an evening of board games and chatting with people he'd known online. On the way, one of his friends said, "Did you notice the note-takers?"

"Yeah, during a game I was in. Hotel staff making sure we behave."

"No, they're not with the hotel. I checked. And they don't explain who they are. One was snooping while I played Pyros the Dragon multiplayer."

"Weird. If they're still hanging around in the morning we can report them as creeps."

#

In the morning more guests arrived, totaling several hundred. Dave went to the opening ceremonies where a couple of minor celebrities waved to the crowd and a dude in a lab coat gave a mildly drunken speech about fantasy stories. The whole time there were two of those grey-clad people in the back corners, watching. When the speaker was done declaring the convention formally open, Dave got out of there and went to the hotel registration desk to ask, "What's up with those guys?"

The lady on duty said, "They're convention staff. A company called Dry Wells Security or something." She knew nothing more. They *had* been the ones handling registration.

Feeling creeped out, Dave did a futile search for the group online. Then he went to the dealers' den to browse the stuff on sale. A dozen assorted artists and merchandise sellers had books and games and even stained glass trinkets. There was of course another silent figure watching the scene. Dave bought an art commission of his favorite dragon character, one he'd used in a story.

It was time to host his talk about the computer game he was working on. That got attended by fifty people! He boasted about his work in progress: a strategy adventure about being a mighty dragon who has to build up a safe lair between years-long naps.

An audience member asked, "Are there dragon knights?"

"What, like that joke about the dragon-kin warrior princess who gets hired to save herself from herself?"

"No, like a hero class that works for the dragon and doesn't do the hoard management stuff."

Dave was thrown off; he'd designed the whole thing around the natural main characters. "I hadn't planned on it but could include that as an alternate gameplay mode."

Most of the group cared about the game he'd made instead of a hypothetical different one, at least. He got out of there and attended a fan group that'd made its own copyright-skirting spinoff of movie series "The Northlands Wing-Raiders." Then a tactical combat game of "Nidhogg und Nachthexen", aerial battle between dragons and witches.

That night the convention organizers announced free pizza. Everybody went. As usual the silent grey-clad ones were there, hardly seeming to know what the stuff was. If anything they wrinkled their noses at the smell of pepperoni and cheese. By now Dave had mostly stopped caring what the weirdos were doing... until the chanting started.

One in each corner of the room began muttering, in unison, holding some rounded object. Dave happened to be nearby when it began. "Is that a *skull*?!"

One of the other attendees startled. "It is! Hey you, what are you doing?"

He approached the nearest grey man, who was brandishing a wax-smeared, misshapen skull with carved notches. A wall of sickly green light sprang up between them. Dave rushed it but the other guy restrained him, saying, "Different tactic!" He threw a paper plate. It sparked as though hitting a bug zapper and fell harmlessly at the chanting man's feet.

Now a wave of alarm spread among the attendees. As more people tried to approach these cultists or whatever they were, more of a barrier appeared, revealing that it encased most of the room. One guy managed to flee from next to the door, but Dave found he couldn't leave without the crackling light appearing between him and any exit. It even began arching overhead.

He threw himself at the barrier anyway, and roared in defiance. He slammed into the barely-visible field and it shocked him but flexed, seeming to make the whole thing wobble. The grey man faltered for a second and leaned away.

Then the world itself rippled. The air turned sour and smoky. As Dave recoiled from the energy field, he discovered something on his arm. Hexagon-like designs in metallic blue, like a massive painless bruise wherd he'd collided. His eyes widened at the sight, but there were bigger problems. The hotel convention center was disintegrating around them, the ground changing to bare rock, the ceiling opening onto a sky of tainted violet clouds beneath two moons.

Dave and the other attendees staggered. It felt like gravity and the ground had tilted during the shift. This room was outdoors now. He landed on all fours, feeling his wings spread for balance...

He reared his head back on a surprisingly long neck and got a startled view of a shiny, scaly blue body. Also a glimpse of a lot of people flailing for balance, sprouting scales, getting tripped by tails that weren't there a moment ago.

Around them stood a green-skinned horde. Tusk-faced, dressed in rags and leather, amplifying the chant to deafening level. They banged knives and spears against wooden shields. Dave's ears flicked backward. He tried to stand up on this bare desert sandstone and ended up in what felt like an unsteady crouch. "What is this?" he said, and heard a hissing tone to his voice.

Many other people were saying much the same thing. Half the con-goers were covered in scales. And surrounded by the tattered remains of their clothing. It was a good thing he... no, Dave discovered he was wearing less than half of his shirt and pants. He still had his badge in case he somehow ever got back to the hotel.

Before he could care about being wrenched out of reality and into a new body, a greenskin man bellowed at the group. "Silence! We fetched you from an unguarded land, full of dragon-lovers. I saw you in my trance. Now the Dry Well Tribe has dragon cavalry of our own!"

One of the unchanged people, a woman whose convention badge jangled on its lanyard, stepped toward the leader. "What is this?!"

"You stupid, woman? You wanted to be an expert dragon master big-shot and fry your enemies. My tribe's spirits gave you that. You got the skills now!" This shaman or whatever he was, waved around at the group his people had circled. The dark clouds scattered to let in sunbeams.

The still-human captives muttered and looked at themselves, and at the ones who'd changed. Dave took a few steps on all fours, feeling a heavy tail swing behind him for balance. He recalled the presence of leathery wings on his back. His head swung around in a dizzying way to let him see them again. They twitched and he could feel them like blankets shading the sun. He hopped around turning toward every angle, staring at his scales and wings and clawed forefeet and --

"Whoa!" said a guy in knightly costume, holding out one gloved hand and grinning at Dave. "I might get to be a cool dragon-rider knight, but not if you run me over."

"Dragon... rider?" said Dave. From his perspective the unchanged people were short. He stood at least horse-sized; it was hard to tell since these tribesmen were bigger and bulkier than most of the con-goers.

"Guess it was random. Or no, come to think of it, it was like they were judging us." The man looked at his badge, showing the rider design. "Wonder if I get a real uniform."

One of the other humans, dressed in ordinary street clothes, was less enthusiastic. "I didn't sign up to be drafted, even like this."

One of the dragons -- Dave could hardly believe it, though he admired the guy's shimmering bronze scales -- sat up with some difficulty, wings wiggling for balance. "Just because I wanted to be a dragon, doesn't mean we agreed to work for you yet, and you didn't ask."

The shaman and the other tribesmen looked around. The shaman said, "What did that one say?"

The guy repeated it but the greenskins shook their heads, till a woman repeated them loudly. Dave startled, his head rising several feet. These guys understood English, but the growls and hisses coming from the bronze-scale weren't human speech at all. Dave turned to the nearest other dragon and said, "Can you understand me? Am I speaking English?!"

"Yeah, obviously... no wait. Am I?!" That one turned to the nearby humans, who startled and shook their heads.

One of them said, "No, but I do understand you! Is that made-up elf language or something?"

"No!"

"Oh man."

The shaman held up a ceremonial rattle of bone and claws. "Enough talk! You work for the Dry Well Tribe now."

One dragon said, "No, thanks."

A human answered, "Hang on. We don't know how good a gig this is. You, orc guy, what do you want us to do?"

"You will smite the cities of the tricksy kingdom of Lanir, bringing fire and ruin to human and ferran and dwarf alike. Then we shall feast and plunder!"

"No, thanks," the dragon repeated.

Ignoring him and other hissing, stamping scaly ones, the shaman said, "Riders, come and choose your dragons." He waved, and two puny orcs scampered forth bearing a box of iron collars that seemed to drain light around them.

Dave and several others gave a more emphatic and profane No. When Dave said it, he felt something flickering across his newly sharpened teeth in a long muzzle. As for the still-human people, only one of them reacted decisively. A man in an expensive costume from a recent movie strode toward the box, saying, "Look, people, we're obviously not getting out of here without playing along. Do we even know they're orcs? Besides, you can't judge them; we don't even know them. Let's have some fun. We wanted to be awesome sky riders, right? Or I guess, some of us wanted to be steeds. We're getting that. Be grateful."

The woman who'd spoken first told him, "Don't be an idiot. You want to burn a kingdom you've never heard of?"

"I want flying adventures. Something's getting burned and it won't be me."

Dave stomped toward him, though on all fours he still wobbled. There was strength in his arm muscles and his legs seemed geared to bend in weird ways that supported him well. "I will deck you if you touch one of those things." Several other dragons bobbed their heads.

"What are you going to do otherwise, huh? Fight a whole tribe that's the only people looking to help us?"

The bronze-scale trotted closer, looking bigger and more intimidating than Dave felt. "If we have to."

"You're crazy, dude. Let's just --" He reached into the box of collars.

The bronze reacted first, body-slamming the guy. Dave leaped and in the process touched the cursed iron ring. It sizzled and surrounded itself with dark runes as it contacted his scaly forearm. Dave bellowed and felt like he'd belched up razors. A wave of glittering gemstone fragments flew from his muzzle and gashed the would-be dragon master. More shards plinked against the collar and knocked it aside. Dave landed with one foot on the man's arm. His target lay on his back, bleeding and dazed. The bronze dragon glared down at the man too.

The shaman shouted. "Riders! Control your beasts before they do something stupid. They'll behave once they know their place."

One terrified looking man crept forward, but three dragons glared at him and put more fear into him than he had of the tribe. Most of the other unchanged people stood looking around at the knife-wielding horde. One of the men bellowed obscenities at the shaman, adding, "We're not doing this!"

"Then what do we do?" said a woman in a cat-ear headband. "They're armed."

"We've got dragons!"

Dave said, "Listen, everyone! The orcs can't seem to understand us in whatever language I'm speaking, but you 'riders' can."

"Hey, yeah!" said the bronze-scale, rearing up to shout. "Let's all break through in the direction I'm facing. No more arguing. We get free and kick the asses of anyone who challenges us, and then we get away and figure out what's next. Raise a hand or a wing or something if you're in."

It took a disturbingly long time for a bunch of limbs to rise. Dave joined in early. The bronze nodded and called out, "On three! One, two, three!"

Dave and many others stampeded to break out of the surrounding tribe. He found himself galloping, throwing his forelegs forward and landing on them with more strength than normal, then kicking into the air with his back legs and a boost from his tail muscles. His wings caught the wind enough to slow his fall each time. All around him dragons thundered and men and women tried to keep up. A line of orcs brandished their weapons at him and he feared he'd get impaled. He roared, trying to recreate whatever he'd done to spray gemstones, but nothing came out. Even so, the orcs took a step back and their spears wavered.

They pointed into the path of the big bronze one beside him. Dave veered to one side and swatted a spear away, then ducked in time to have the other guy sail right over him and brush Dave's wings from above. Dave kicked an orc's legs out from under him and kept going.

A red dragon was the first to see the problem. "The riders!"

Dave turned his head to see, getting dizzy since the rest of him didn't follow. The orcs were managing to get in the way of the slower-running humans, trapping some of them. Without weapons, they were hostages now. "We've gotta go back," said Dave.

The red one said, "I think I figured out how to breath fire!"

"Careful," said the bronze. "Lead us off?"

A fire blast seared the nearest of the orcs, who were torn between trying to corral their human victims and fending off dragons. Dave joined the follow-up charge, swatting a greenskin aside with a sweep of his clawed right arm. A spear clattered against his shoulder but felt only like being slashed with a dull pencil. Dave threw his weight around to clear an opening. Now the back of the horde was closing in to try capturing or maybe killing the nearest humans.

"Sorry!" said a guy in Viking getup, as he leaped expertly out of combat and onto Dave's back.

Dave hardly sagged under the weight of a full-grown human digging his legs into Dave's sides and somehow avoiding the beat of his wings. "Whatever!" Dave said, swiping at an orc who was about to stab a woman. Then he bounded away and said, "Taxi dropoff!"

His impromptu rider leaped away with a jump that should've earned him a medal. Dave ran back into the fray and helped usher the stragglers out. Now it looked like all the people had made it out of the tribe's trap... except for the guy who'd been downed by the box of cursed collars, and two others who'd held up their hands in surrender, with knives at their throats.

The shaman shouted, "Fools! You will have treasure and skulls for the taking, if you but obey."

"We're not very good at the obedience training," said Dave. Several unchanged convention-goers helped translate with their own colorful language.

The bronze rumbled beside Dave. "We can't get to those last three, can we?"

The red dragon hissed. "No. The tribe's ticked now. Got to run."

Dave said, "Riders, we're getting out of here for now. All aboard; you seem to know how."

The humans had gotten a good deal of their own, developing enough skill and coordination to grab the nearest dragon and hop aboard. Then to hold on for dear life as everyone fled across the desert with long, gliding leaps and bounds. The orcs only tried to follow briefly, shouting curses haunted the dragons for a while longer.

Dave panted and stumbled. "Nothing but desert." The sun had fully come out and heated his new scales.

"I think I can breathe frost," one white-scale volunteered. He had the sense to aim his breath attack upward, creating a pretty snowfall that brought a merciful chill. "Eee, that's fun!"

One of the designated riders hopped off his steed as everyone cantered to a stop. "I just got my wish, but I was hoping to not get drafted and enslaved for the horde."

A woman crowded closer to the little snowfall. "I didn't think that far ahead. Just wanted to be an adventurer with a dragon sidekick, you know?" A bunch of other people murmured agreement.

"Now what?" asked the white one. "I'd say defect to that human kingdom but I've got no idea where."

The woman said, "Hang on! How do we go home?"

"I didn't see a convenient exit portal. If there's a way back we've got to find a wizard or something."

Another rider said, "You can be a wizard around here? Can I do that?"

"How should I know?"

A green dragon asked, "Does anybody happen to know what setting we're in? Please tell me you played a game exactly like this where people pop in and out of different worlds and green dragons get all the hot scaly chicks."

Dave rolled his eyes. Nobody volunteered information. He said, "We're not equipped for a long camping trip in a desert. Has anyone figured out how to fly yet? No? Then we need to scout and try finding water and a cave or something till nightfall."

A few of the humans had backpacks or purses or cargo pants, with probably a few snacks and slightly useful tools among them. Amazingly, one attendee had held onto a paper plate with three slices of Hawaiian pizza on it. Several others had wielded soda cans as weapons. Dave tried not to think about the fact that he'd lost his last shreds of human clothing in the fight.

A human raised his hand. "Aren't you supposed to go downhill to find water and towns?"

People looked around for any sign of a slope to this dry scrubland. It wasn't obvious, but maybe they'd find one soon.

The bronze said, "OK, we have a good starter plan. That and we need to keep moving so His Greenness doesn't send hunters or voodoo or something."

"What about the three hostages?" said one gal.

A guy added, "I get the sense the orcs didn't think their plan through very well."

The bronze shrugged his wings. "We can't do much right now. Sorry."

"We've got a duty to rescue them!"

"You willing to kill a hundred or so more orcs who'll be completely ready this time, plus anyone else they've gathered, while they're holding knives to people's throats to make us put on collars?"

She wrung her hands. "You just said they didn't fully consider things; it's not their fault. If we talk it out, we can avoid more bloodshed."

It came to a vote. The party was for moving on, not risking death in the desert to go back and probably fail at diplomacy against hostile strangers with weapons. The woman said, "I can't believe you people! What kind of heroes are we if we abandon them?"

"I'm not a hero, not really," said a man who'd dressed as a fantasy cowboy. Dave had seen him on the back of a dragon, yanking the spear out of an orc's hand and backhanding a tusked warrior who was about to stab a dude in the face.

"We're the kind who live to fight another day," the bronze said, lowering his head. "Let's find shelter and a vantage point."

Dave nodded and followed, as did the rest. The sun blazed and only a pair of white dragons kept the temperature bearable. The humans rode on their new partners without anyone complaining. They'd all gotten their wishes, in a way. Dave thought of all the things he'd lost back home, like contact with his family, and shuddered. But right now he had no way to fix that. He was doing the best he could to get everyone to safety and learn more about this new world. So he held his head high and felt his wings flutter, like a promise that he'd master them soon. There was plenty to see. What better way to explore than with a dragon cavalry unit?