The Changespell Saga

by Doranna Durgin

  He swallowed, took a breath, swallowed again... and cautiously lifted his head to the steady drizzling rain that silvered young, brightly green leaves. The park where Lady had first arrived as Jess. Just as they’d hoped.

  Dayna sprawled on her stomach, groaning imprecations at the world; Suliya looked just as dazed and clung to the Palomino’s lead rope. The halter draped carelessly over the lanky, naked form of a man with an odd gold-tan sheen to his skin and orange stripes in his flaxen hair. He looked like a puppet for which someone had suddenly cut the strings, ungainly and awkward and not yet conscious.

  Their best chance to get clothes on him.

  “Suliya,” Carey said, or meant to; it sounded more like a croak. He worked his dry mouth and tried again. “Get him dressed... before he wakes up...”

  The thought of wrestling with the palomino man goaded her into action; Dayna dragged herself through wet groundcover to lend a hand.

  Jess lay as unconscious as the palomino, taking the change hard... curled into a shivering ball, her head lolling with a slackness that sent a skin-tightening moment of dread through Carey even though he knew better—he could easily see the movement of her goose bumped ribs with her breath.

  “Clothes, Jess,” he muttered, making it to her on hands and knees and gently disentangling her from her harness. Limp-limbed, she gave no sign of rousing; he couldn’t recall ever seeing her so affected.

  Stifling a curse and a shock of guilt—I did this to you—he dug through her saddlebags and pulled out her underlayers, a sweatshirt with a horsey design and a pair of jeans.

  Suliya and Dayna worked over the palomino, exchanging snatches of conversation. Move his leg, lift his butt—and one short, mortified Watch out for his—the zipper!

  Carey winced at that one, dressing Jess on his own, hands gentle on her long limbs, confidently intimate as he arranged her underlayers and carefully eased her hair out from within the sweatshirt.

  As he snapped the jeans together, her breathing went from slow and shallow to a quick fearful stutter, and he was ready to meet her confused gaze as her eyes fluttered open—not successfully at first, not all the way, but when finally she looked out at the world, she found him waiting.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She frowned, looking at the canopy of trees above them... glancing at her own rain-beaded hand as if she wasn’t sure what she’d find at the end of her arm. Then she said, “Hard.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, running a hand down her arm. “Take your time. No hurry.”

  “Some hurry,” Dayna said from behind him. “If we get caught off trail, we’re going to draw attention. The rangers won’t hesitate to call in the cops if they think something off-spell is going on.”

  “Something off-spell is going on,” Suliya muttered.

  “That’s the point,” Dayna said. “Hand me that shoe, will you?”

  “I think he’s starting to come around—” Suliya’s voice rose a little in trepidation; Carey glanced over his shoulder to find Dayna struggling with the last shoe and the palomino—the man—sprawled on his back, his arm twitching.

  Jess rolled to her side, struggling to make it to her knees. “He will be so scared—”

  “Take it easy, Jess. We can handle it.”

  “But you don’t know—” she cried, more anguish than volume, too wobbly to do anything but fold back to the ground and rest her head on her arms.

  Carey stroked the back of her neck, following her long hair down her spine—as aware as she that these next few moments were crucial, and would likely set the tone for the rest of their time with the palomino-man. “No, we don’t know. But we’ll do our best. Be easy, Jess.”

  “His name,” she said, muffled and indistinct, “is Ramble.”

  He’d never even thought to ask.

  Dammit.

  ~~~~~

  The Ohio woods of Highbanks Metropark looped and swirled around Jess, defeating her every attempt to rise; a tear of frustration followed the curve of her cheek and then dropped to the already wet ground just inches from her face. She’d wanted to be here to help Ramble, to make these moments as easy as possible for him.

  She’d never expected to find herself as weak as a newborn foal.

  Memories came rushing back, the way it had been that first change—memories nearly buried by her confusion at the time, and by the number of seamless changes she’d made since then.

  “Carey,” Dayna said uncertainly. Jess had managed to get a brief glimpse of the man Ramble had become before the weight of her own limbs dragged her back to the ground. Bigger than any of them, with a ranginess that perfectly reflected the palomino’s own.

  If he gave them trouble, they’d be no match for him.

  “Carey,” Dayna repeated, more uncertainly yet.

  Carey brought his head down to hers. “Be easy, Jess.”

  She sighed deeply at the sound of one of her old Words, losing the edge of her anxiety. “Go help,” she told him.

  Her back was cold where his hand had been.

  The world steadied; she became more aware of the rain dampening her sweatshirt, of the birds fluttering through the underbrush, of Carey murmuring not far away—using the same kinds of words he gave Lady but slightly firmer. More authority than reassurance... but not pushing.

  Ramble needed more than that. He needed to hear a language he could understand. His language.

  Her language.

  She jerked at a sudden explosion of activity—Ramble in action, Dayna just trying to get out of the way, Suliya tugging at his arm, Carey simply placing himself in Ramble’s way, giving him a quick push and then giving him the time to think about it.

  Jess got to her knees where Ramble could see her, giving him a throaty nicker.

  He froze, distracted from human antics; he perked his ears and arched his neck and—

  No. So strange, how she could look at this human form and know exactly what the horse in him meant to do. But the human form merely tipped his head slightly, straightening almost imperceptibly, focusing sharply on her.

  She remembered that, too. Sudden binocular perception over her entire field of vision. And color. Intensive color, for the first time, and the assault of it on her mind. Still on her knees, she moved a little closer, calling to him again. More quietly this time. Reassuring instead of attention-grabbing.

  He softened, taking cues in that most horsey of ways... if she wasn’t running, then he didn’t need to run, either. If her posture was soft and relaxed, she perceived no threat to either of them. She lifted her chin a little, stretching her neck, eyes wide and curious. A mare inviting a stallion to say hello.

  “There you go,” Carey breathed.

  “We’re spellin’, then, ay?” Suliya said, as quietly as Carey.

  “I think we’ll be all right,” he said. “Just give him some time. He’ll tell us when it’s all right to get closer.”

  Jess shifted a little, putting her shoulder to the man, giving him the chance to approach. Clumsily, still on his knees, still dropping a hand to the ground for balance now and then, freezing and tilting his head in warning when Suliya once moved too suddenly, hesitating when Dayna eased away to find the nature trail.

  An arm’s length away, he stopped, stymied without the ability to stretch out a long neck to greet her, carefully tasting of her breath while she inspected him in turn.

  She gave him a little nicker, a gentle exhalation. Encouragement, all the while watching him. Hard to tell when he might explode, with the tension underlying his movement and filling his burnished features—hard-boned features, with a curved nose reflecting the mild arch of his horse’s face, his cheeks and jaw less refined than Jess’s. His eyes flickered between worry and interest and downright annoyance, and she knew they had been right not to push him, knew they needed to stay soft and relaxed and quiet—

  Dayna’s panicked reappearance shattered their careful peace into irretrievable shards. She startled Jess, she startled Carey and Suliya,
and her gritted-teeth hiss of warning—”Park naturalist on the trail, we don’t want to be caught here—” turned Ramble’s alarm into action.

  Boxed in on three sides by Jess, Carey and Suliya, he whipped around, surging to his feet to bolt away—and colliding solidly with Dayna. Carey and Suliya were on him in an instant, even while Jess made it to her own feet, hesitating.

  For she had no doubt he could escape, and would—if they drove him to it.

  “Easy,” Carey said, his arms spread wide to make himself imposing. Suliya latched on to Ramble’s arm and suddenly found herself facing his teeth, spared a serious bite only because Ramble’s neck didn’t reach nearly as long as he thought it should.

  Far outmatched, Dayna ended up on the ground practically under his feet, and her attempts to disentangle herself only made it worse; Jess groaned in dismay as the scene turned to chaos—and then whirled at the barely audible scuff of a hard-soled boot against rock.

  They couldn’t be caught here—and here they were, making noise, being visible, being as obvious as any small group of people could get. Off-trail, breaking rules, a whirlwind centered around a man who until just a short while ago knew only of being a horse. A stallion.

  Jess hesitated, frozen with indecision—but just for an instant. Then she sprinted for the nature trail from which Dayna had come, wobbly but intent, ignoring Carey’s surprised curse.

  She veered as she ran, dodging trees and avoiding roots and sending the birds in all directions. She aimed to hit the trail behind the naturalist, to draw attention back down the trail and away from her friends. She, like Dayna, knew this park; she knew in which direction the nature center and parking lots lay. But she was still uncertain on her feet, and she tripped and went sprawling, smearing herself with wet leaves and dirt.

  A woman’s alto voice, full of authority, rang through the air. “Hello, in the woods! Come back out to the trail!”

  Jess rubbed her dirt-covered cheek on her wrist and climbed to her feet. The fall, at least, at gotten the naturalist’s attention. Stumbling, she did as directed.

  The tan and brown-clad naturalist was waiting when Jess arrived on the trail. “These woods are protected,” the woman said. “What were you doing out there?”

  Jess needed another moment, taking in the woman’s unyieldingly stern face, her short dark hair slicked back under a Metroparks cap, her water-beaded raincoat crinkling audibly with her movement. She had thought only of drawing attention, and not what she’d do when she had it.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, flicking from Jess’s odd dun hair with its black center stripe to her larger than normal irises, and then to her damp, dirt-smeared clothing... her bare feet.

  “Looking for my friend’s brother!” Jess blurted, only the truth after all and a desperate attempt to draw attention from her tough-soled feet. Her phantom ears flicked back and forth, listening for the sounds of the struggle she’d left behind her. Nothing.

  “He’s off the trail, too?” the woman said sharply.

  “I got lost.” Very, very lost.

  “In more ways than one, I think,” the woman muttered. “Do you live here? In the Columbus area?”

  Jess cocked her head, trying to understand the relevance of the question... trying to decide how to answer it.

  “You sound like you might be from... out of town,” the woman said, not unkindly.

  “Yes,” Jess said, deciding then and there to let her remaining awkwardness with words speak for her. “Out of town.” Definitely out of town.

  “Sometimes visitors aren’t familiar with our rules. We try to be understanding, but the rules are there to protect the woods, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the park.”

  Not a consequence that had occurred to her. To be separated from the others? And with no transportation. The world shifted around her—too many things, happening too fast. “But Mark—”

  The naturalist eyed her again, head to toe. “I’ll escort you to the nature center. It’s where people come when they’ve gotten separated; you can wait for him there. It’s out of the rain.” She shook her head as her gaze landed on Jess’s feet. “You sure you’re all right? There’s not anything you’re not telling me, is there?”

  Only everything. Jess felt it safer not to answer that one at all. She hugged her damp sweatshirt against herself and struck out for the nature center, determined not to wobble again until they reached it and she could sit. If she faltered, if she fell, then she’d only bring more park people here to help her... and she needed to clear this trail for Carey.

  Carey and Dayna and Suliya, and a resentful flaxen-haired man named Ramble.

  ~~~~~

  Things could be worse. Suliya dusted herself off. Jess had drawn away the park naturalist—a peacekeeper of some sort—and the palomino was under control.

  For now, at least. She’d already caught him staring at her, his jaw dropped slightly with the same expression his horse self wore when contemplating a bite.

  “Burning Hells,” Carey said. “That could have gone better in so many ways.”

  “At least it’s sprinkling,” Dayna said, but her voice held weary agreement. “It’s enough to keep the casual visitors away. With any luck, we’ll have this trail to ourselves until we reach the parking lot. And with real luck, Mark will be waiting for us.”

  Carey eyed the palomino. “He’s never going to trust us now. We need Jess.”

  Ramble gave an angry snort, as if he could have possibly understood. Suliya knew better... he was merely expressing frustration over his inability to reach out and nip her.

  But Carey was right. The palomino sat awkwardly on the ground, constantly shifting as though he could find a better way to arrange his legs. They’d had to twist his ear to get him under control, and now he wore a rope around his neck, and hobbles on his arms.

  “Wouldn’t using those on his legs do more good?” Suliya asked.

  “He’s used to wearing them on the front,” Carey told her. “He’s not as smart as Lady and I think he’ll consider himself hobbled.” And then he threw her a wry look, rubbing a reddened spot on his cheek. “Besides, he can’t hit us this way.”

  True enough. Though Suliya herself intended to remember that ear twist once they got under way and the man figured out that hobbled human arms didn’t mean he couldn’t run.

  Carey picked up Jess’s harness and saddlebags, slipping them over his shoulder. His own bag was a travel-sling, as was Suliya’s. Dayna stuffed her small shoulder-carry into Ramble’s now empty bag and straightened her tunic; the rain beaded on it. Wizard’s clothing, spelled against such inconveniences as rain—Suliya, too, had once taken such things for granted.

  “That’s that, I suppose,” Dayna said. “We need to get out of here before something else comes up.”

  “He’ll try us out again soon,” Carey said, coiling the end of the palomino’s rope. “Hup, Ramble. Let’s go.”

  Ramble made a few hesitant attempts to rise, and then eyed Carey with what he thought was a sly look, waiting to see if Carey believed his inability to walk.

  “Suliya,” Carey said, most casually. “Find me a good switch, will you?”

  “You’re not really—” Dayna stopped edging toward the trail, eyeing them aghast. Suliya found a sapling and tore off one of its lean branches; she stripped off the leaves and handed over the newly made switch.

  Dayna said, “You’re not really—”

  Carey made a show of examining it, tapping it against his leg. Ramble’s nostrils flared in utter annoyance, and the next time Carey asked him to move out, he heaved himself to his feet—ungainly and uncertain, but trying.

  “Thatta boy,” Carey told him. “We can still make this work, Ramble.”

  “You knew,” Dayna said, taking her first good look at the man. He was taller than any of them, thicker across the shoulders than Carey despite his overall rangy look, and the strong bones of his face suddenly seemed to suit him much better. “You knew you wouldn
’t have to use it.”

  “I damn well hoped,” Carey said. “Once he starts understanding things as a man, I doubt he would have forgiven it.”

  “And he won’t give that rope around his neck a second thought, I suppose,” Dayna said dryly.

  “Not much choice there. It’s going to be a long walk out of here.”

  Dayna said, “It’s already a long walk out of here. Let’s just hope we find Mark at the end of it.”

  How casual they were, Suliya thought. Roping this man, evading the peacekeepers of a foreign land, making plans to walk out to this parking lot thing Dayna kept mentioning...

  Ramble followed Carey through the woods; Carey followed Dayna. And Suliya brought up the rear, losing certainty with every step. When she’d agreed to come along, she’d thought it a sure way to gain Carey’s attention, to earn his respect... and in turn, to regain her family’s respect.

  Now, watching Ramble, she felt the enormity of it nibbling away at the edges of her confidence. The travel, her presence in this world that at once seemed familiar and alien... the irrevocable nature of this adventure she’d agreed to involve herself with...

  All of those things seemed represented by this horse so freshly turned to man that Carey led him away in hobbles, a neck rope, and a switch at the ready.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Fifteen

  Arlen eased off the livery horse with a groan. Transportation of any kind had become increasingly more difficult to arrange, and he’d been lucky to acquire this rough-gaited mount.

  His, now, though he had no illusions that the animal could carry him all the way to Anfeald.

  Or that he’d survive the trip if it did.

  A deeper part of him knew that he’d do anything to get home. Anything.

  He gave the gelding a pat as it chomped placidly on its bit, remembering his surprise when the livery owner named his price for the rental of the coarse, feather-legged creature.

  “Not a rental,” the man had said as they returned to his small boxy office. It, too, smelled like a stall in need of cleaning. “Look around, why don’t you. The only reason I’ve still got him is that the last couple of customers got picky. The only reason you’re getting him is that word spreads fast, and yon coacher—” he nodded in the direction of the road coach station—”is a friend of mine.”