“Great,” Jaime muttered.
“Closer to Arlen than Sherra, but further out,” he said. “It’s a pretty area, hilly sheep country. The people are good folk.” He pushed the map toward them. “Got any questions?”
Jaime looked at the sketchy lines before her, lines that would have meant nothing without the commentary that came with them. “I suppose we can ask, if we lose our way.”
“As long as you’re sure you know who you’re dealing with,” Carey reminded them. He looked toward the old river. “I’m thirsty enough to suck on river pebbles, if only there might be some water left in them.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that,” Jaime said ruefully, immediately aware of her own thirst, and the fact that they stood in the noonday sun. A large carrion bird circled overhead to complete the picture nicely.
“That’s the same river where Jess—Lady, I mean—and I fell. I suppose she told you about that.”
“As best she could,” Jaime allowed.
“Let’s go,” Dayna said abruptly. “I don’t want Eric to lie out there any more, and I don’t like this place.”
“I’m with you,” Mark said. He put a hand on Derrick’s ankle, hesitated, and then gave a resolute tug. The stiffening body came reluctantly, leaving a trail of clotting blood behind. As Jaime regarded the dumped body with dismay, Dayna crawled in the truck and did her best to wipe the blood up, warning them off with, “Eric’s not lying in this.”
Lady investigated the body with a few impersonal whiffs, then roughly pulled Jaime over to Eric. There she went down the length of his lanky body, nudging, her eyes grown round and anxious. Jaime found her own eyes tearing up again, and gently tugged the lead until Lady followed her back to the truck, where she exchanged a look with Carey. He shrugged, completing the short, silent conversation. How much was Jess, and how much was just wishful thinking on their part?
“You just want to...leave him here?” Jaime asked in a low voice, changing the subject to Derrick and not particularly eager for Dayna to hear. Her glance went up to the bird, where it continued its lazy, spiraling glide in the thermals of the hot riverbed.
“We can’t take the time to bury him,” he replied in an equally discreet voice, his hazel eyes holding the same faint regret that she felt. “We’ve been here too long already.” Then, as Dayna crawled out on to the tailgate, disdainfully dropping a bloodied rag on Derrick’s body, he asked, “Ready?”
She nodded. Carey joined Mark beside Eric, and together they carefully picked him up. Jaime took Dayna’s hand and drew her off the tailgate, trying to make some contact with her tightly withdrawn friend—but Dayna’s hand felt cool and distant in hers.
Carey closed the tailgate with relief plain on his face. “Let’s go,” he said. “It’ll take them a while to figure out the tire tracks, but once they do, the trail’ll be too damn clear.”
“You really think they’ll be here?” Jaime climbed behind the wheel while Carey squeezed beside the gear shift and Mark filled the other half of the passenger side, Dayna on his lap. No one suggested that there was more room in the back.
“They’ll be here,” Carey said with assurance. “At the most, they’re half a day away. If they’re coming from Arlen’s, less that half of that. Put this thing in four wheel drive and get it moving, Jaime.”
“Right,” she muttered. “Wouldn’t Chevy just love to base a commercial on this one.”
“Jay, you’re a nut,” her brother said, a brief moment of sibling normalcy that bolstered her spirits. She glanced out the passenger side mirror to see that he had a good grip on the halter lead and that Lady didn’t startle too badly when the engine turned over. Then she eased off the clutch, trying to match her pace to the rough ground and Lady’s movement. The mare trotted easily along beside the vehicle, and soon Jaime concentrated only on the ground before them.
~~~~~
Jaime looked tired, Carey thought. The steering wheel jerked with each twist of the front wheels over rock and bump, and the truck constantly threatened to ground out on the rough terrain. He wanted to offer to spell her—but the truth was, not even Mark was as good as she with the manual transmission. Jaime’s hands moved swiftly between the wheel and the stick, and she even managed to downshift from second to first at the same time she slammed them from regular to low four wheel drive, an intricate dance of clutch and two gear shifts that Carey knew he could never imitate—not when most of his experience came from the barn’s garden tractor.
But they were making good time. Not better than a mounted party, but certainly faster than if they’d been on foot. Too bad they’d have to abandon the vehicle soon; they’d gone from flat, dusty old riverbed to rocky scrub, and the truck would never make it past the fringes of the woods they now approached.
The Chevy seemed to stick for a moment, then lurched forward. Jaime frowned as she put it in neutral and wiped her sweaty, dusty face on the once-clean hem of her shirt. “Bladder break,” she said, cutting the engine. “I’ve got to check the left front wheel.”
They disembarked, slowly stretching their assorted cramps and strains. Carey’s legs were so stiff from keeping them out of Jaime’s way that he wasn’t sure, at first, that they would hold him. Mark dropped Lady’s lead and flexed his arm, kneading the bicep, and Dayna headed for the other side of the truck with a taciturn warning that the men had better stay where they were.
“Oh, damn,” Jaime groaned from the forbidden side of the truck, giving the tire a token kick. “Flat as they come,” she informed the guys. “Got a big spear of rock stuck in it.”
“Spare’s all right, isn’t it?” Mark asked, although he looked far from eager at the prospect of changing it.
“Never mind,” Carey said. “The gas is almost gone and we can’t go much further than this, anyway. I think we should lay a little false trail with what gas we have left, and go on foot from there.”
“Without changing the tire?” Jaime said, aghast. “We’ll ruin the wheel!” But before Carey could say anything, she laughed at herself. “Listen to me. As if it matters.”
“We couldn’t take the time even if it did matter.” As Dayna came around the truck, looking self-conscious, Carey looked at the truck cab with resignation and nodded to Mark. “Trade places?”
“Sounds good to me,” Mark agreed. “Variety if not relief.”
Dayna scowled. “It’s not so great from where I sit, either,” she said. “I’ll bet Carey’s knees are just as bony.”
That, at least, was a bit of the real Dayna coming to the fore. Mark gave her a big loud kiss on the forehead on his way by, and Carey pulled her into the truck before she could respond.
“Okay, Jay,” Mark announced as Carey closed the door and reached out for Lady’s halter lead. “We’re ready to ramble.”
Carey guided Jaime off of the faint road and into rougher territory, where rocks scraped the truck’s skid plate with tortured sounds; the wheel rim slid and screeched its way forward. He was forced to drop Lady’s lead, but not surprised when she followed along in their trail of her own volition. Lady minus any aspect of Jess would have done that, and this slow pace was—and had been—no real effort for her.
Forty-five minutes later, as they made their way through increasing brush, mowing down small trees and dragging undergrowth, the engine gave a couple of sad coughs and sighed into silence.
“That’s that, then,” Jaime said, pulling the emergency brake with what looked like the last of her strength. “What now?”
“Out!” Dayna said emphatically, wiggling around to find the door handle. Rather than endure the bouncing, Carey hastily found it for her, helping her out with enough force that she gave a small squeak.
They stretched and groaned while Lady wandered among them, nipping the sweet new growth off twiggy trees. Finally, Carey said, “There’s no point in trying to hide this thing. The trail’s far too clear.”
“I thought that was the whole point,” Dayna said. “Lay a false trail, right?”
<
br /> He grimaced an acknowledgement. “It’s hard to break old habits,” he said. “But you’re right. We’ll back-track along it. Do your best not to disturb the ground—these guys won’t be stupid.”
“Just a minute,” Jaime said. “I’m going to look through the truck and make sure there’s nothing here we can use.” She rooted around in the truck, flipping the seats forward and digging through the accumulation of years. Mark quickly joined her, and a small pile of things grew on the ground.
“I think you’re forgetting something,” Dayna said firmly, looking squarely at Carey. “We’re not just leaving Eric lying in there like that.”
Carey steeled himself for a battle. “I don’t think we have any choice, Dayna. We can take him out of the truck and find a protected place for him, but we don’t have the time to—”
“We do have the time!” she snapped. “He’s dead and he can’t even be buried on his own world—you can bet he’ll be buried on this one! Until he is, I’m not going anywhere!”
Mark and Jaime abandoned their truck search to listen, and Carey felt frustration well up inside. “You don’t seem to take any of this seriously!” he exploded. “You want the truck clean before we put Eric inside. You want a map and a set of the rules before we start out. Can’t you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you since you found me in that hotel? These aren’t games! Calandre will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in her way—and she may have already killed one of the most powerful men in Camolen.”
Dayna swallowed visibly, but crossed her arms over and stared defiantly at him.
“Damn!” Carey swore, turning away from her, closing his eyes and trying to get a handle on a temper that was just about gone. When he turned back, his eyes were hot and his voice too level. “Listen up. We will find a secluded place for him, and we will cover him with rocks. The moment I see you slacking off, that’s it—we’re done, even if I have to carry you away from here kicking and screaming. Afterward we’ll be marching double time, and we’re not going to be able to stop until we reach Sherra’s. That’s a choice you’re making for all of us.”
Dayna looked uncertainly at Mark and Jaime, who were visibly alarmed by Carey’s frustrated explosion; they, it was obvious, believed him, and had been infected by his urgency. Then she looked away from all of them, and her face crumpled. “He was my friend,” she said through a sob. “No one just let me be...me, like Eric did.”
“All right, Dayna,” Jaime said softly.
Mark exhaled a deep breath. “It’s not going to be easy. C’mon, Carey, let’s get to it. Dayna, find a spot you like and start picking up rocks.”
Dayna didn’t hesitate. She walked briskly into the thickening brush while Mark went around to the back of the truck and Jaime gathered their booty and dropped it into the empty grain sack that was part of it.
“It’s a good thing I never clean this thing out,” she muttered, coming around to help the men as she tied the bag closed with another length of hay twine. “We’ve got a flashlight, a couple of flares, my old jackknife...a fishing lure and some almost tangle-free line—”
“Later, Jay,” Mark grunted, trying to handle Eric’s stiffened body, his face a stoic mask—or trying to be.
“I found a place!” Dayna announced from a hundred yards away, jumping so that she momentarily appeared above the brush. “Over here! You got it? I’m going to start on the rocks!”
“And work gloves,” Jaime said with satisfaction, slapping them down on the lowered tailgate. “I’ll take ’em first—you want second dibs, Mark?”
“I’ll take them,” Carey said, shaking his head when Mark looked at him for the nod to pick up Eric and go. “You’ve got another job, Jaime. Maybe the hardest one.”
“What?” she asked blankly.
“Get on Lady and go,” he replied shortly, keeping his voice low. “We’ve cut our chances in half—hell, to practically nothing—with this foolishness. You’ve got to tell Sherra we’re here. She’ll send someone out to meet us, and if they get to us in time, maybe we’ll make it after all.”
“Me?” Jaime said in total shock. “You’re the one who knows the spell, Carey. You’re the one who knows the territory. And you’re the one we can’t risk, not if we take this as seriously as you’re trying to get us to.”
He stepped close to her, looking down at her dark brown eyes, guileless, searching his for some sort of answer. Not shrinking from a job they both knew would be just as hard as the burial and march. “Lady knows the way,” he said softly. “Just keep the sun on your left, when you can see it.”
“But, Carey—”
“If I go—if I leave you alone—you’re all dead.” He closed his eyes at the impossibility of it all and said, “Please, don’t argue. You’re the only one besides me who can ride bareback, and whom Lady trusts enough to obey without a bridle.”
“Jess trusts me,” Jaime said. “We still don’t know how much of her—” but she stopped short at the look on his face and took a deep, strained breath. Oh God. “Okay. I won’t waste any more time. Keep the sun on my left. What else?”
“There are a number of good roads—well, what passes for a good road in those woods—that will take you there. Head into the sun for half an hour or so and then put it on your left and go into the woods. You’ll hit a road sooner or later. Don’t waste time second-guessing yourself and blundering around looking for one. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said, smiling wanly. “At least I’ve got my breeches on.”
A small attempt at a joke but he appreciated it anyway. “I’ll give you a leg up,” he said, and gave the short whistle that would call Lady to them.
~~~~~
The first few moments on Lady’s back were bizarre. Jaime tried hard to think of her as just any other first-time horse—in Ohio, not Camolen. The dun mare, too, had reservations; her ears went back flat, hidden in the thick mane, and her back humped up under Jaime’s seat bones.
“Lady,” Carey said sharply, and Lady lowered her head and snorted in what could only be called disgust, nearly jerking the halter twine out of Jaime’s hand. Jaime stroked her neck and gave Carey, then her brother, one last look.
“Good-bye, Eric,” she said, and gave a gentle squeeze of her calves. It had only then occurred to her that she would miss the important ritual of formal good-bye, and she felt unanticipated sorrow about it. But Lady moved forward, a hesitant walk with her head held high and bobbing uncertainly, awkwardly turned to keep one cautious eye on Jaime.
“Straighten out, Lady,” Jaime said sternly, using her back and hips and a squeeze on the halter lead in a half-halt that surprised the mare. She asked for a trot, twisting her fingers in the long black mane to help her weather the inevitable stumbles from the uneven ground. Lady obliged, but clearly expressed her opinion about the strange situation by making it an uncomfortable, hollow-backed gait.
Another half-halt, ineffective. “Quit!” Jaime snapped, thinking that the ride would be torture if she couldn’t get more cooperation than this. She grasped a hank of mane and pulled herself up over the tense neck. Speaking right into the mare’s ear, she said, “Jess, whatever part of you is left in there knows that this is nonsense. We’re not leaving Carey, we’re trying to save him. And you damn well know that I’m not going to do anything to hurt you. I want you to round up and put yourself into a good frame, or I won’t have the only sore ass around here!”
The mare stopped short. They were only just out of sight of the truck, and Jaime held her breath, knowing that if Lady chose to wheel around and run back to Carey, there was nothing she could do to stop it. But they just stood there, the black-tipped ears swiveled back at Jaime. Thinking. Then came subtle differences in the body beneath Jaime. The mare’s neck lowered, her head adopted a vertical angle, and her back rounded gently into Jaime’s seat. Then, without waiting for the request, she moved into a springy trot, picking her way around the dips and bumps in her path.
“Jess,” Jaime breathed. She�
�s still there. Some part of her is really still there.
~~~~~
Dun Lady’s Jess moved steadily onward, having transmuted her human trust into equine acceptance of Jaime’s requests. Her sturdy hooves found good footing on the uneven ground, and her muzzle—whiskers and all—twitched at the delightfully intense smells of the world around her—smells which told her of the cool woods long before she and Jaime actually reached them.
Out in the open there had been little sign of travel, but once under the trees they hit a wide, relatively smooth path after only a short while of catching hoof and fetlock in fallen branches and skidding off leaf-hidden rocks. Small birds chittered at them and fluttered away through the underbrush, leaving the woods silent around them.
Dun Lady’s Jess knew this path, and knew where they were going. At Jaime’s quiet signal, she swung into a smooth, steady canter, glad for the distraction of work.
For some part of this no longer fully equine creature was coming out of the shock of transition and moving into a deeper shock. The thoughts she tried to process were beyond her, and the emotions she felt far more complex than had ever assailed her before. She was afraid for Carey, trying to comprehend the loss of Eric, and nearly panicked over the fate of a certain human named Jess.
The mare leaned into the thin twine halter, ignoring its bite, and lengthened her strides. No time for the perplexing muddle of human thoughts in a horse’s mind. No time for the fear and distress the half-formed thoughts created. Time only for running, running until her breath came harshly in her throat and her muscles burned. Running until Jaime’s gentle cues with the biting twine became insistent demands, and Dun Lady’s Jess slowed to a fast walk, sweating with far more than the efforts of her ground-eating canter.
~~~~~
“I wish I knew how far this place is,” Jaime grumbled, and Lady flicked a quick ear back to listen. “You know, I’ll bet.” She wiped her sweaty face on the hem of her now thoroughly grimy shirt and suggested, “How about a trot, kiddo.” Lady moved out without complaint, starting the first in a series of walk-trot-canter cycles that found the path growing almost wide enough to be called a road—but with no sign of their goal.
The Changespell Saga Page 18
