A Turn of Light

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Bannan hurried after, sure he could hear the dragon swearing.

  Something was in her way. Jenn squinted and tried to make it out, but it was probably, she decided, grass. Hadn’t there been a meadow at the other end of this strange path? She gasped for breath now, which was reassuring in one way but since she couldn’t feel a mouth, she was afraid to know how.

  The path evened at last. Relieved, she began looking for her pebble.

  To find herself face-to-face with a nyphrit.

  Not one.

  Hundreds.

  They waited, staring at her. For her to move, she thought. For her to give them an excuse.

  It wasn’t fair. She was so close!

  They sat on their haunches, flexing their claws, daring her.

  They shouldn’t, Jenn thought, beginning to feel more angry than afraid. They really shouldn’t.

  Suddenly, their eyes left her and lifted. Before any could do more than snarl, a massive dark shape leapt over Jenn’s head and landed in their midst.

  “Scourge?” It was, with Wyll, who couldn’t possibly ride, somehow clinging to his back. The great warhorse moved almost too quickly to see, tossing nyphrit this way and that, crushing more under his hooves. Wyll was using his breezes to clear a path—for her. They did it for her.

  From hundreds to thousands. A wave of nyphrit appeared at the edge of her vision, running atop one another in their eagerness for battle. They’d overwhelm her protectors, tear Bannan apart as they had Uncle Horst . . .

  No, Jenn Nalynn decided, they wouldn’t.

  She didn’t like nyphrit. What she really liked, and what properly belonged in a meadow, were rabbits.

  Just like that, red eyes became soft brown, drooling muzzles shrank to cute furred noses, and rabbits replaced every nyphrit.

  That, Jenn Nalynn thought happily, was more like it.

  The power of a turn-born.

  Wyll dropped from the kruar’s bloody back, staring as rabbits bounded away in all directions. Scourge huffed and snorted, still in a fine battle rage, but there was nothing left to fight.

  And nothing to contest her.

  Glittering like ice, the creature who’d been Jenn Nalynn walked toward the imprisoned sei, meadow sprouting behind as her whim changed bare rock.

  And the dragon moved out of her way.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THINGS WERE WORKING out much better than she’d expected, Jenn thought. Why, this place was nice enough. Almost as pleasant as Night’s Edge.

  It wasn’t, of course. This was where she’d find her pebble. She knew exactly where it was now, just over there, at the base of that white hill. Not a hill, she supposed, but as creatures went, a big lump didn’t seem as dangerous as the nyphrit had been.

  She’d taken care of them, hadn’t she?

  Which was fine, but there was still something wrong about this place. If she tried to look at the sky, it was all twisted and the wrong color. If she looked into the distance, nothing made sense.

  Perhaps, she thought, that was why she’d been summoned here. To put things right. She closed her eyes to keep out the confusion, and wished, very clearly and strongly, for things to be nice and normal and real again, just like at home.

  She opened her eyes hopefully.

  To find herself standing in the dark.

  “Jenn Nalynn!” The love of his life had turned a multitude of slavering, albeit small, monsters into rabbits. Bannan laughed as he ran. If only he’d had her in the marches . . .

  His feet caught as the ground under him sprouted asters and daisies. He fell, face first, into what felt like thick sod, and stared, bemused, at what appeared a line of ants.

  What was she doing? Climbing to his feet, Bannan moved more cautiously. Jenn was still too far away to hear his voice, but meadow spread from wherever she’d stepped, consuming the plateau.

  Meadow, he thought grimly, that didn’t belong here.

  Scourge stood surrounded by flowers and rabbits, looking as discomfited as ever he’d seen him. Wyll leaned on the kruar’s shoulder, staring after Jenn Nalynn. As the truthseer approached, he turned a face full of grief. “She’s destroying the Verge.”

  “I’ll stop it,” Bannan heard himself promise.

  Not that he knew how.

  What had she done?

  It wasn’t an ordinary darkness. Jenn knew that, just as she knew she didn’t dare take a step, for there was nothing to stand on. Something she’d wished had gone wrong, again. Why hadn’t she been more careful, thought harder, been wiser?

  “Jenn.”

  Her name, in his husky voice, wrapped around her like sunshine. Though she hadn’t thought her eyes closed, it was as though they’d opened.

  Bannan, right there, standing in the dark. She saw him, she realized with a shiver, by the light coming through her own skin. Lifting her hands, she held them near his face, to better see him. “Dearest Heart,” she whispered, when she saw the fear in his eyes.

  “You have to stop,” he told her. “You’re changing this world into ours and you mustn’t.”

  “I saw no world. I want to,” she explained earnestly. “I want to see what’s real more than anything.”

  The fear left his face, replaced by understanding, then compassion. “Ah, Jenn. You wanted to see wonders, didn’t you? The world beyond Marrowdell? It’s here, Jenn Nalynn, waiting for you. Let yourself see. Remember my letters?”

  Which was so odd a request she frowned. “Of course I do.”

  “The rivers of silver. The sky like a rainbow from one end to the other.”

  He’d written of them. Of more. They were here? “I didn’t see them.”

  “I couldn’t see Scourge for what he was, Dearest Heart, until I accepted he wasn’t what I thought. Look at the Verge again, and see it as I do. See the wondrous place it is.”

  It wasn’t wondrous if it contained nyphrit, Jenn thought, but something in her responded to his voice, to the certainty in his eyes. “The sky . . .” she began.

  And there it was, like no sky she’d seen or imagined. Jenn gasped and staggered, feeling his arms warm around her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry about up or down.” He laughed. “They aren’t as important here. Can you spot a river?”

  This time, as if she saw with his clear sight, there it was. A ribbon of the finest silver, winding its way into . . . into a forest of feathers and up, which was truly strange, into a valley of . . . and buildings . . . buildings of crystal.

  All at once, the Verge stretched out before her like a glorious painting. In the distance, as if singing to her heart, dragons.

  And closer, shaking his head, her dragon. “Leave the rabbits,” Wyll advised, an odd smile on his face. “But stop the meadow. Please.”

  What did he mean? Jenn pulled free of Bannan to look around and winced. A meadow, a perfectly fine and normal Marrowdell meadow, was growing outward from where she stood as if she’d spilled it like milk.

  Stop! she wished.

  It did, daisies nodding in surprise.

  This, Jenn knew, was exactly why Mistress Sand and the other turn-born hadn’t wanted her here. She would have, she feared, a great deal to explain. But first. “I have to find my pebble. And save the sei.”

  Bannan bowed. Wyll nodded, his pride in her shining in his eyes. She chose to ignore Scourge’s interest in the rabbits.

  There were trees in her way, but cooperative ones that lifted their branches to let her pass. Jenn nodded her thanks.

  There were a great many rabbits, most looking quite puzzled. Some had already discovered the clover of the meadow and were nibbling contentedly.

  ~ Help me. ~

  Stepping between rabbits, Jenn went to the wall of stone. This was where her pebble waited. This was where she’d had to come. “What do I do?” she asked, laying her palms against the stone.

  But it wasn’t stone, it was an eye larger than the world, and from that eye dripped tears of pearl white.

  Without need to think, Jenn leaned forwar
d and opened her mouth, not that she had one, but there was something she did like that and . . .

  A tear landed on her tongue and she swallowed.

  It burned!

  More than the tinkers’ beer or milk, more than the time she’d scalded her wrist on the kettle. It was pain yet wasn’t . . .

  Because it filled that hollow within, and helped make her whole again.

  She drank tear after tear, knowing the moment she’d had enough, pressing her lips to the stone eye in thanks.

  “How can I help you?” she asked it. “What do you need?”

  ~ Bring me home. ~

  It was home, Jenn thought. At once, something told her she was wrong, that it wasn’t quite. Melusine’s magic, to bring the lost home again.

  A turn-born’s, to find the way.

  A little pull, she decided. Like . . . THAT.

  The eye closed as the hill sank into the ground. All around the plateau, other smaller hills disappeared. It felt right, Jenn thought, beginning to smile.

  Everything did.

  “Jenn?”

  She reached for Bannan’s hand, then, seeing her own, brought it before her wondering eyes. “Look at me!”

  Her skin was glass, but inside was pearl, warm and aglow. It was much, much better than being filled with rocks or buttons.

  Then, for some reason, she remembered what Wainn had said. “Know who I am,” she whispered. Was it possible? Could it be that simple?

  Yet as she looked, the pearl faded and her skin took on its familiar hue. She touched her fingers, the nails, turned over the palm to see streaks of dirt. Brought both hands to her face, to feel a mouth and eyes and a nose. “What am I?” she asked.

  Bannan caught her hands in his. “I look at you,” he said gently, “and see Jenn Nalynn.”

  ~ What about me? ~ Scourge stomped a hoof, then startled them all with a roar. ~ I demand my right to petition! ~

  ~ We hear you. ~ The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  The kruar snorted, seemingly unimpressed. But when he spoke next, it was with quiet dignity. ~ Is my penance fulfilled? ~

  ~ It is, Lord General. ~

  Scourge lowered his head as if overcome, then to Jenn’s surprise, made a whuffing sound toward Wyll. ~ And his? ~

  ~ I don’t need you to ask for me, ~Wyll said acidly, eyes silver.

  ~ You needed me to get you here, ~ the kruar retorted.

  ~ Without me, you wouldn’t have lasted this long! ~

  “Wyll,” Jenn interrupted. “Ask!”

  The silver left his eyes. ~ It doesn’t matter, ~ he said gently.

  It mattered to her. “Is his penance fulfilled?”

  The voice seemed amused. ~ We leave that to you, turn-born. ~

  Her. It was up to her? “Yes!” Jenn said at once. “Of course.”

  Nothing changed. Wyll stood there, naked as when she’d first seen him as a man, except for streaks of blood and bruises starting to bloom. Too many bruises, she thought with regret, all on her behalf.

  “It’s up to you,” Bannan whispered in her ear.

  He was, she thought, giving him a thankful smile, almost right.

  Going to stand before her first and best friend, Jenn asked, “Wyll, what do you want to be?”

  He touched her cheek, a breeze ruffling her bangs. “I want to be Wisp,” he told her, “and your friend.”

  “Always,” she whispered. Then she kissed him on the mouth, tasting ash, and, stepping back, made her wish.

  A blade like ancient bone, long as her longest finger, the tip like a needle, the underside of its elegant deadly curve serrated. A tuft of wiry hair, curled like the end of a beard. Breath like steam. Skin like woven chain, as fine as the best linen.

  Glimpses. Wyll gazed back at her, still a man.

  She faltered. “I hadn’t seen enough.”

  ~ I see the expectation of this turn-born. ~ A new voice, strange yet familiar. Jenn looked up to meet the emerald eyes of a dragon, though it didn’t seem quite a dragon for as she looked at it, for an instant it was a moth.

  All at once, a ball of flame came crashing down, consuming Wyll! As Jenn screamed and Bannan shouted, the fire died, leaving a huddled shape, coated in bright green ash. She held her breath as the shape struggled and moved, ash drifting away.

  Away from silver scales and a long face, with glittering amethyst eyes and nostrils breathing smoke. A beard did indeed hang below fanged jaws. A shudder, and ash fell from a wing, stretching out and up as though amazed to be free. More ash and a tail ending in deadly spikes swung through the air. A foot, with claws just as she’d glimpsed. Another foot, larger.

  His other side. Jenn’s heart panged as the ruin of first one, then the other leg appeared, as the old, healed, but dreadful scars along one side came clear. The wing, still aglitter with ash, was held tight against the body. It was withered . . . useless . . .

  It was not! “No!” she cried, adding her wish. Insisting on it!

  And the wing, curled against his side, unfolded, a perfect match to the other. The dragon curled his neck to bring his eyes to stare at it.

  With a shake, the last of the ash came free.

  And winked away.

  ~ What am I? ~

  “Wisp,” she said fiercely. “And my friend.” Jenn put her arm around Bannan, blinking away tears of joy. “Thank you,” she said to the green dragon, which wasn’t, she decided, remotely as handsome as Wisp.

  Who was more than handsome. As he stretched his wings, his tail supporting his crippled side, the polished surface of his scales reflected the light. His eyes were every bit as expressive as they’d been as a man’s, and Jenn smiled when they found hers.

  And suddenly, there were dragons everywhere. Blue and gold and red and colors she couldn’t name. They filled the air, almost touching, though they gave the sei wide berth. Others, to her amazement, flew up through the ground. “Me and my broom,” Bannan said in her ear.

  ~ You have served your penance, Dragon Lord, Lord General, ~ the sei told them. ~ You may return to your kind. ~

  ~ At last! Farewell, truthseer, turn-born! Dragon, may we meet in— ~ perhaps thinking better of “battle,” Scourge finished with ~ — the hunt! ~

  With that, he ran off, tail flagged, kicking his heels at any dragon that came too close. As he made his way along the ridge connecting this plateau to the next, kruar appeared from their hiding places to run behind, their crests glittering.

  Jenn felt Bannan sigh. “Be happy, old friend.”

  She looked to her friend, who hadn’t left. Though it was the hardest thing she’d ever done, Jenn said to Wisp, “Go. Be happy.”

  With a fierce roar, he launched into the sky, scattering his kind. They whirled in a dance of color and motion, then, as suddenly as they’d come, the sky was empty.

  The dragons, her dragon, were gone.

  “Horst.” Bannan shook his head grimly. “We had to leave him.”

  Jenn tucked her arm in his. “I know.” Crossing back had been, as Mistress Sand promised, a matter of being there, and wanting to be here. Here was the Spine and the path down. A path she no longer feared. This was no longer the Wound, but a path like any other. Though, from the rustling, there were a few nyphrit.

  Rabbits, she warned them.

  There were two less mounds on the Spine, and those left were sunk deeper in the ground. Explaining that she’d leave to the astronomers.

  Bannan stopped at the first bend, turning to her. “You could wait here.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll come.”

  Jenn had braced herself, but she gasped as she saw Uncle Horst’s body, slumped against the tree. “Is he—?” There was so much blood. He couldn’t possibly . . .

  The truthseer dropped to one knee beside him. After an endless moment, he looked up. “He’s alive, but not by much. We have to get him to the village.” He lifted the other as gently as he could.

  They could use Scourge. “I’ll get Davi and his cart.”

/>   “The trees blocked the path,” he warned.

  “That much,” Jenn promised, “I can do.”

  In the end, it was Urcet and Roche with the small wagon, the telescope left in the commons. The long-legged ox proved nimble and the old trees listened when Jenn demanded passage, though they’d shed some branches that had to be moved. And though Urcet and Roche paled at how quickly the road passed on the homeward trip, they made no comment.

  “Sweetling na?” Mistress Sand came out of her tent, with Master Riverstone behind her. Seeing what they brought, she made a sound of distress. “Bring him inside, quickly. We have our ways,” she added, giving Jenn a look full of meaning.

  They’d helped Wainn, Jenn remembered, and nodded gratefully. “Please. Anything you can do. Uncle—” Her fingers stroked the unconscious man’s hand, then she looked up. “He saved me, as much as anyone did. I shouldn’t have tried to go alone.”

  “If you hadn’t,” Sand said soberly, “who’s to know what would have happened na?” As the others worked to move Uncle Horst, she came close, her eyes suddenly aglow. “Sei. Can it be na?”

  “It wasn’t a pebble.” Jenn took a deep breath. “But I feel—I feel myself again. As if nothing had happened. Whole.”

  “What’s in you, Sweetling, is nothing we’d dare touch,” the turn-born told her, which was hardly a comfort, then she added what was, “All’s well, I say. Now go reassure your aunt. She’s refusing to hold the weddings until she knows you’re safe, and no one argues with that fine lady.”

  “No,” Jenn almost smiled. “No, they don’t.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, sir.”

  Bannan, razor poised at his throat, paused to regard his friend in the mirror. “We crossed to the other world. The Verge. And back.”

  Tir gave a contented grunt. “S’long as I don’t have to.”

  “You might like it.” The truthseer smiled to himself. “There are dragons.”

  “That’s not as appealing as you might think, sir.” But Tir’s eyes gleamed above his mask. “You say the bloody beast stayed behind. I won’t say I’ll miss him—”