The Changespell Saga

by Doranna Durgin

  Or what was left of it.

  The route ran through the rough northwest country, where snow-covered pastures and farmland nestled between rugged rock formations. Sparsely populated between towns, the land remained undisturbed by man during all but the most temperate times of the year, the brown ribbon of road the only sign that people came this way at all.

  Now that road twisted back on itself, crumbled into a wilting ball. The snowy rock formations lurched in gravity-defying angles, pocked with randomly melted reality.

  Arlen stood by the driver, neither of them saying anything; the horses had stopped only a length or two before the spot where the road, sheening with its unnatural swirls of color, had turned inside out on itself. Arlen squinted, trying to make sense of it; his gaze skipped away, repelled by the foreign nature of the elements before him. Beside him, the driver stared with open-mouthed bafflement.

  And while every whit of common sense urged him to run in the opposite direction, Arlen took a step closer—and another, focusing not on the whole indescribable scene, but only that small part of it closest to him: a gyration of earthy colors in slick but uneven surfaces.

  Dirt and rock caught in a roiling boil and solidified in the moment.

  But how? And why?

  To the side, the road burbled. It twisted, it warped... it slid toward him like oil slicking across downhill ice.

  “Burn it right off,” the driver gasped as Arlen skipped backward. The activity subsided even as Arlen retreated out of danger, but out of the corner of his eye he saw another dark bubble of activity.

  He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t know what had caused it... but he knew it was growing.

  And he knew, watching the process corrupt yet another precious few inches in front of the snorting coach team, that nothing living would survive that process.

  “Turn these horses around,” he told the driver.

  Wide-eyed, the man said, “The coach isn’t made to turn around on road this width. It can’t.”

  “It can,” Arlen said grimly. “It will, unless you want to be stranded out here on foot with... this.” He waved his hand at the miasmic scene before them. No magic...

  And no choice.

  “I’ll unhitch the horses,” the man said. Behind them, the other passengers had disembarked and milled uncertainly, exclaiming over the sight of the distorted landscape. “We can take turns riding them back to town—”

  “The coach can turn,” Arlen repeated, calling on the authority of his Council voice, pinning the frightened man with a gaze full of certainty.

  Realization crossed the man’s tense features. “It was you,” he said. “We should have tipped over—but we didn’t. That was you.”

  Arlen wasn’t willing to say that much out loud. “The coach can turn,” he said, imbuing his words with as much meaning as he could.

  This time the man nodded, the grim lines of his face deepening. He said, “Sit up front with me for a while, be easier for you to work that way,” and gave the near-side horse a pat; the animal was no happier than they to be so close to the unnatural remains of the countryside. Then he waded into the passengers, asking them to load up again for safety.

  Arlen only half-heard the querulous and frightened replies as he stood by the team of pretty matched bays, their snorts and bit-jingling as much a part of the background as his fellow passengers. Fear, noise, chaos...

  None of it could compete for his attention, not with this bizarre scene in front of him. It had come from magic, because nothing else could have caused these disruptive and surrealistic changes. But...

  He hadn’t felt it.

  There had been no signature, no surge of magic. Just this stuttering creep and crawl of growing damage.

  He wasn’t yet sure what had happened to the Council. But he suddenly knew where to start looking.

  ~~~~~

  Spellstone strings clattered softly against one another, dangling from Dayna’s hand so thickly she could barely hold them as she headed for the third floor room where the travel team had quietly gathered supplies.

  She had stones so Jaime—who was staying in Camolen—could trigger the Camolen-Ohio message board she and Arlen had devised. She had stones so each of them could return to Camolen. She had stones of protection, and stones for every other little thing she could think of—and that she could only hope would work when their strongest ties to Camolen’s magic would come through her.

  She’d gotten quite good at making spellstones in her year and a half here... and she’d gotten even better at it in the last day. Even now she glanced at the collection of glimmering, active stones and gave silent thanks to Arlen for keeping such a complete stock of quality materials: hard stones, crystals and gems. Small enough to be inconspicuous, light enough so carrying them was no great hardship.

  The others, too, had been preparing. Jaime would stay behind to keep Anfeald running—for Arlen, she’d said—at least until evening came and she found refuge from her strange new nightly malady in a heavily dosed goblet of wine. Jess had gathered clothing for the palomino’s use as a man, and for her own immediate use upon arriving in Ohio—for she, too, was starting the journey as a horse. And Carey...

  Carey had communed with Jaime and Natt and Kesna, all of them talking as fast as they could to address all the necessary details—right up to the very possible arrival of a new master or mistress for the hold. Both Anfeald and Siccawei were prized precincts, and the new Council wouldn’t let them go without wizards for long.

  Dayna closed her eyes and shuddered off rising goose bumps at the thought of anyone but Sherra running Siccawei. The hold, the city... the very precinct had been infused with Sherra’s quiet celebration of life. Not so surprising, given her focus on healing... in providing people with a place to heal.

  People like Dayna.

  Stones in one hand, a small personal duffle in the other, she navigated the dog-legged hallway and found the workroom already open.

  Jess sat alone inside, her long hair falling forward to obscure her features. She cast Dayna a heavy-hearted look through that veil—one that made it clear she hadn’t changed her mind. She came not to help them, but in spite of them—so the palomino wouldn’t face the human world without someone who truly understood him.

  Who knew exactly what he was going through.

  “Ay, Jess,” Dayna said in greeting, as cheerfully as circumstances allowed.

  Jess hesitated, hands pausing as they folded a pair of loosely tailored pants. “You sound like Suliya.”

  Dayna wrinkled her nose. “It’s catching, I guess.” She spread the spellstone strings out on the massive conference table—it was already covered with gear, and with as much gold as they thought they could carry, borrowed from Arlen’s petty cash.

  They had no intention of being distracted by stupid lack of funds.

  “Got some stones for you,” Dayna said, maintaining the cheer. “Nothing heavy-duty, but they could come in handy.”

  Jess glanced at them, neatly placing the folded pants into the duffle assigned to the palomino. “I need another braid.” She currently wore her spellstones in two slender braids behind her left ear—her special personalized changespells on one, and on the other, the courier recall stone, the protection from hostile magic in use directly against her, the friend-foe spell...

  Dayna separated the stones into smaller bundles, leaving one at each of the gear piles. “Carey’s, Jaime’s, mine, yours... Suliya’s.” Then she looked at Jess, who was stuffing thick socks into a pair of nearly shapeless lace-up shoes. “Tell me again just why Suliya’s coming? She obviously doesn’t want to.”

  Jess gave her a flat look, her dark-rimmed brown eyes so expressionless that Dayna should have seen her reply coming. “I don’t want to go. The palomino will say he did not want to go, when he is able. Suliya is like the rest of us... doing as events have said we must.”

  Dayna stopped untangling Carey’s spellstones, mustering willpower to stem the words crowding her
tongue—reiterating again the reasons they were doing this. But she didn’t say any of it, because Jess already knew it all.

  She simply disagreed.

  That she could, that she’d grown into this complex woman who could examine a multi-faceted situation, come to her own conclusions, and stand by them—

  As far as Dayna was concerned, Jess herself was the evidence that they did the right thing—that the palomino would adapt—that he would be able to tell them what they needed to know.

  But she didn’t think she’d make points with Jess to bring that up now. Instead, she said, “I meant, why Suliya? She’s not the easiest person to work with.” Honesty compelled her to stop and add, “Of course, neither am I.”

  Jess looked over at the door, as if reassuring herself that Suliya wasn’t suddenly standing right there. “We can’t spare anyone else from Anfeald,” she said. “They all know the shortcuts; they know the horses and the roads. But we need someone to help with Ramble. Besides,” and she gave Dayna a startlingly shrewd look, “you saw her with Garvin. She has... a confidence. She’ll need it.”

  “She has a confidence because she doesn’t know how much she doesn’t know,” Dayna said by way of a grumble.

  Jess picked up the new spellstones, running them through her fingers in an absent, explorative way—lifting them slightly to get the scent of them, such as it was. “How can you tell? You only met her days ago.”

  “Let’s just say I know the type.”

  Jess made a noise to show she was thinking about that and tucked the spellstones into a small pouch.

  “You really should wear those,” Dayna said, sorting through her own.

  Jess looked down at herself. “I start as Lady,” she said. “When we get there, I’ll put them on.” She looked at the door, and Dayna knew to expect someone; she wasn’t surprised when Carey eventually came to the door, leaning against the frame in a deceptively lazy way that let Dayna know he was actually good and ready to go.

  “Jaime’ll be here in a moment,” he said. “Suliya’s supposed to be here already. We’re as prepared as we’re ever going to be... let’s get this thing started.” His gaze fell on Jess for a long moment. “You just about ready?”

  “There is no ready,” Jess said. “There is waiting, and then there is making the change. But I will never be ready to do this to him.”

  “I know,” he said, watching her with a wistfulness Dayna rarely saw on the long angles of his face. “But you might try being ready to do it for me. For us. For Arlen.”

  Jess looked at him then—but it was a look full of thought, and one far from conclusion.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Thirteen

  Suliya finally showed up with two heavy bags slung over her shoulder, eliciting much dry amusement from Carey. Just shy of a shouting match later, they’d whittled her supplies down to one bag, and gathered up all the gear to head for the foaling stall.

  Jess set her saddlebags down next to her changing stall; she intended to wear her harness with her bags—and clothes—firmly attached, just as they planned to use a rope to keep them from separating during the travel. Jaime emerged from the back hall, her expression grim—until she saw Jess watching, at which point she offered up a rueful smile.

  “Are you sure—?” Jess started as Jaime reached her—but Jaime shook her head before Jess could even finish.

  “I know this might be my last chance to get home,” she said. “Believe me, I know that. There’s no telling how things are going to go on this end—or if the new Council will even allow the travel spell at all without Arlen—” She stopped, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then met Jess’s gaze with a sad, almost self-mocking look. “It’s just that I can’t believe it yet.”

  Arlen’s death. Jess moved closer, offering comfort with presence.

  Jaime understood the gesture better than anyone else could; her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “But until I can believe it, I can’t leave. I can’t... I mean, what if he shows up tomorrow? No one ever saw him dead. We don’t know—”

  “Jaime,” Jess said, cutting her off with that single low word; Jaime looked surprised, as if suddenly realizing she’d been babbling. Jess said, “Do you remember how hard I looked for Carey? When no believed I was a horse—Carey’s horse—or even that he was even real?”

  Jaime gave her a hesitant nod.

  “Stay here,” Jess said. “Wait for Arlen.”

  Jaime seemed to stop breathing for a moment, and when she started again it was in an uncertain fashion. But then she turned to the matters at hand. “Mark should be expecting you; I sent him a message board last night—and I asked him to bring the Valium I keep on hand for dental visits, just in case Ramble is truly upset. The only question is whether he’ll read it in time—he doesn’t check the thing regularly.”

  “We have his phone number,” Jess said, Ohio words that felt strange in her mouth. “And Simney is working to stop the thing that happens to you in the evening?”

  Jaime gave her a wry grin. “Yes, Simney is working on the thing. And Kesna, too. They’ll figure it out—and until then, I’ll sleep through it.”

  Carey and Suliya came down the aisle leading the stallion. Carey peeled off to hesitate by Jess and Jaime. “You all right?” he asked Jaime. “You want to make any last-minute changes?”

  Jaime shook her head, resolute despite the delicacy she seemed to have taken on over the last few days. “I wish you’d rethink what you’re doing, but I’m through arguing about it. I hope I’m wrong, and this turns out to be the right thing.”

  “Thank you,” Carey said, holding Jaime’s gaze a beat longer than necessary. And then he turned to Jess and repeated his question. “You? Last-minute changes?”

  Jess, too, shook her head. The changes she wanted would never happen. She still mourned the loss of something between them—something she hadn’t yet quite identified, but felt as keenly as any clumsy hand on the rein.

  Something that Carey only now seemed to notice.

  “Jess,” he said—and stopped, at a loss. “Jess, I—”

  Jess said softly, “Choices matter,” and left it at that.

  He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, looked at her another contemplative moment, and then looked away, failing her and knowing it. Making choices. “See you on the other side of the spell,” he said, and headed for the foaling stall.

  “Yes,” Jess said, still softly, watching after him. “The other side of the spell.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jaime said, keeping her voice low. “You know how he is when it comes to Arlen. The man practically brought him up. He’ll get through this.”

  “Through being a man-brained mule butt?” Jess asked, not quite able to put the asperity in her voice that she’d intended.

  Jaime laughed anyway, and gave her a quick hug. “Come back soon,” she said. “I’ll keep a stall bedded for you.”

  And Jess had to laugh too, no doubt what Jaime had intended.

  She ducked into the changing stall, closed her eyes, and triggered one of the sapphire changespell stones dangling from its long, thin braid.

  The magic swept through her, blinding her to everything but the changing sensations of her world. She threw back her head, embracing the essence of the Lady shape—four strong hooves, nostrils flared to catch the sudden renewed strength of the scents around her, the awareness of her own strength, her speed, her power...

  Her willingness to harness all of those things for the people around her.

  Fully, solidly equine, Lady lowered her head and shook like a dog, black mane flapping. Then she took careful stock of herself, recognizing the imperative the Jess-self had left for her even as she found the conflict inherent in it.

  It was a new dilemma for Lady... do this and don’t do this directions at the same time. She lowered her head, scratching her nose along the inside of her foreleg, black forelock falling into her eyes.

  She was as dun as dun got, Lady was—a fine buckskin dun, t
hick black line down her back, tiger striping ghosting up her legs, black points all around. Striking color on solid conformation, good sloping angles, strong loin, and a sweet arching neck... she raised her head—a dry-boned, clean-cut head—and spotted the stallion’s coarser head as he craned around, trying to understand why he suddenly scented a new mare.

  Jaime entered the stall and Lady waited while she buckled up the special courier harness, securing the saddlebags in place, and gave her a pat. “You’re all set.”

  Lady flicked an ear back, turning her head to nuzzle her friend. Worried, even if she wasn’t sure why.

  “It’s okay,” Jaime said softly. “Go ahead.”

  So Lady blew a gentle snort and headed for the foaling stall with long, free strides that were entirely reflected in the way she moved as Jess. Ramble met her with his neck arched high, prancing in place and offering a courtly series of grunting nickers.

  Suliya eyed him with alarm. “Carey—”

  “We’re going,” Carey said—placing a hand on Lady’s harness, holding tight—holding his hand out to Dayna.

  Lady’s world wrenched itself inside out—and despite the sudden inner cry of Jess’s despair in her mind, jerked her right along with it.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Fourteen

  The spring ground was wet against Carey’s face, the strong humus scent in his nose. He lifted his head, watched the woods spin around, and quickly closed his eyes. “Burning Hells,” he whispered, only now realizing how much improvement Arlen had made in the refined versions of the changespell. He clenched his jaw on the bile in his throat, told himself don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t—

  Someone beside him threw up.

  That would be Suliya, her first introduction to world travel full of turbulence and rocky landing, and he ought to say something reassuring like it gets better but just at that moment his jaw was clenched even harder—