The Changespell Saga

by Doranna Durgin

  “I doubt she was much good at healing,” Carey said, his voice dry. “And I’m not sure you should go in there. She might have the thing spelled against intruders.”

  “That does sound more like her,” Jaime admitted. “Well, I’ll be careful. But we should grab a quick bite before we move out, and I’d like to feed my horse, if possible. And Carey, we really need to take a look at you.”

  “I’m all right,” he said. When she gave him her most skeptical look, he added, “Well, Hells—yes, I hurt. And I could use a few stitches, but I’m not going to die on you.”

  Startled, Jess said, “No!” and Carey patted her leg.

  “I won’t,” he reassured her. “Though I might not do you much good, either.”

  “I think you’ve done your share,” Jaime said. “Now. Food.”

  She poked her head in the shabby little cabin. Jess’s clothes lay at Willand’s workspace, but Jaime couldn’t bring herself to approach that wizard’s sacred space—not even if it held the missing shieldstones. Not when Carey had most likely guessed right about protective spells here. She moved quickly to gather bread, cheese, and grapes from the dry-sink, and fled the cabin.

  When she emerged, Jess had her eye on Shammel’s slow-moving form. “If we let him go,” she said, “he’ll die before he finds help.”

  Jaime sat next to Carey, ignoring Ernie’s body behind her, and Willand’s contorted form before her. “If he’s smart, he’ll figure that out. I’m going to eat, and I think you should, too. You like grapes, right?”

  “Grapes?” Jess said, and her lower lip quivered ever so slightly, just like Lady’s. Jaime laughed and handed the bunch over, not expecting to see them again.

  And so they ate, with death around them and fear behind them, and reveled in the fact they were able to do it at all.

  Until Jess froze with a grape poised between her lips. She looked around them, a frantic gesture, and got to her knees; the grapes fell to the ground unheeded. “Magic...”

  Jaime lurched to her feet and went after the handbow. She discovered the spanner broken and barely functional, and struggled to pull the string back as the magic peaked and faded, briefly strong enough for her to feel.

  Jess moved in front of Carey, still on one knee but ready to shoot to her feet, the half-buttoned shirt gaping. Jaime followed her intense gaze and discovered a man beside the tree where Lady had been tied. He looked more surprised than dangerous at the sight of them—until he saw Willand’s contorted body. He made a hissing sound between his teeth, turning back to them with anger.

  Dammit. She didn’t even want him to see the handbow—she didn’t want him to feel threatened. She ran to Carey and Jess, back behind the stump. If it looked like she was cowering, all the better.

  “Stay away from us,” Jess warned the man, who seemed torn between checking Willand’s body and turning his wrath upon them. “I’ll kill you.”

  “Will you?” he asked sharply, looking the raggedy trio up and down. “I don’t think so. Once I find out what happened here, I rather suspect it will be the other way around.”

  ~~~~~

  Ander’s horse took him down into the gorge and through shallow rapids, slipping and sliding on moss-covered rocks until the opposite bank gentled and he dared to try it. The horse surged up and onto dry ground, stumbled... and staggered to a spraddle-legged halt.

  “I’m sorry,” Ander told it. He swung off and wrapped the reins high around the horse’s throatlatch, tying them off where they couldn’t be stepped on. He left the horse standing and ran—picking up a steady lope of his own, his bow banging against his back and his booted feet thumping against the soil. Within moments he could pick out the back of a small cabin, its sheltered hitching rail and the signs of recent horse.

  He reached the cabin and stopped, catching his breath—listening.

  “I said, what happened to her?” That was Jenci, all right, and his temper sounded ragged. Ander pulled the bow off his back and nocked an arrow, peeking carefully around the edge of the building.

  Jenci stood before the huddle of Jess, Carey and Jaime, and pointed at one of the two bodies sprawled between them. Willand? Ander inched along the side of the cabin—trying for silence, but wanting one of the trio to see him.

  “You’re going to tell me, by burning Hells, or I’ll rip it out of you!” Jenci’s voice rose to a roar.

  Jaime seemed frozen with fear, and Carey looked badly used. Ander’s gaze flicked to Jess. Her shirt was someone else’s; there was a tangle of halter and lead at her feet. He’d never seen quite that particular expression on her face before—that protective defiance.

  “What does it matter?” Jaime asked, more grit in her voice than showed on her face. “She’s dead. It’s done. And you’re going to kill us either way.”

  Ander realized she looked directly at him, had seen him—and was talking to him. He hesitated, bowstring half drawn, not quite able to shoot someone in the back.

  “Because it’ll mean an easier death!” Jenci snapped. “You may have a shieldstone, but your friends don’t—and I can still drop a tree on you.” He pointed at Jess, an abrupt movement from which she flinched—though she held her ground, tossing her head and glaring with renewed defiance.

  But the feel of magic intensified, and uncertainty crossed Jess’s face.

  Jaime jumped to her feet, tossing away a broken handbow and holding the bolt in her bare hand. Jenci snarled and lashed a spell at her—at them all, a glow so blinding that Ander had to squint even to see the wizard’s black silhouette. Jess’s cry of fear tore through his heart.

  No, he couldn’t shoot a man in the back. But there was a way to change that.

  “Jenci!” he called. And when the wizard jerked around, scowling, gave him that instant of choice.

  Jenci raised his hands in attack—and Ander loosed the arrow. It didn’t need mage lure to find a deadly mark... if Jenci had bothered to shield, Ander stood close enough so the arrow went through it.

  The blinding light flared and faded—Ander ran to the stump, where Jaime sat in an abrupt, weak-kneed way and Jess knelt beside Carey, touching his face, his arm... reassuring herself.

  And once Ander had gotten a good look at Jess, he could look nowhere else. She was naked beneath that shirt, by heavens, not a stitch on.

  As he forced himself to close his mouth, he realized what it meant. She’d been changed, and now she was Jess again.

  He was surprised at the swell of emotion in his throat, and the husky way his words came out. “Did you... ?”

  “Yes,” she said proudly, coming to her feet. “They were going to hurt Carey.”

  She’d done it. She’d actually, finally done it. They were going to hurt Carey. He managed to say, “It looks like they already did plenty of that.”

  “Not enough to keep me from taking care of Ernie,” Carey said dryly, his hand resting on Jess’s calf in a possessive gesture.

  Ander barely heard him.

  She was beautiful. She’d always been beautiful to him, as exotic as her features and coloring seemed, as odd as her behavior could be...

  But he suddenly knew, finally, that she was Carey’s. Or Carey was hers.

  Ander didn’t know which. He knew only that the spell she’d struggled to master for so long had remained out of her reach—until she’d had to do it for Carey.

  He knew he looked at someone that meant everything to him, and that she was out of his reach—always had been.

  Jess eyed his expression and glanced down at herself—at the bloodied shirt that fell just below her hips and covered nothing of her thighs, and at the curves of her breasts only half-covered by the loose material. Her expression cleared.

  “That’s right,” she said, her voice taking the same tone he’d heard her use when she reminisced about doing some sly thing in her Lady-form. “No breasts.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter Thirty

  The second time the travel site activated, Jess again felt it first�
��they had plenty of time to array themselves around it, creating a welcoming committee that included Ander’s drawn bow, Jaime’s clutched handbow bolt, and Jess moving in from the side, exhausted but ready to defend them.

  Carey was the first to recognize his old friend, even before the faint haze of magic faded. “Arlen!”

  Arlen! Jess straightened, alert with anticipation instead of alarm; Jaime’s face lit with hope. Only Ander hesitated, waiting until Arlen was well and truly there before turning his aim aside, slowly releasing the bowstring tension. Arlen gave him a look as pointed as the arrow, but said nothing—he didn’t have the chance.

  “Arlen!” Jaime cried. “Arlen, you’re all right! How—” But she stopped and shook her head. “I don’t care how. I’m so glad to see you!” She ran to him, dropping the bolt on the way, and threw her arms around him. Arlen held her closely, his chin resting on the top of her head and his eyes closed in utter relief.

  After a moment, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I take it everything’s secure?” He looked the clearing over from one end to the other, Jaime tucked under his arm. He wasn’t dressed for his hold, but instead wore tough grey pants and a short reinforced tunic made from the same material, tall leather boots on his feet. And although his stride was firm and his voice steady, his eyes were set above dark circles of strain.

  “Everything’s fine,” Carey told him. “At least, it is, now. A few moments ago, we weren’t sure where to start.”

  “Or how to get my clothes,” Jess added.

  Arlen glanced at her, smiling briefly. “I can see where that would be on your mind.”

  “Are you all right?” Jaime looked up at him, examining his face. “Sherra said you could come?”

  “I’m all right,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm with a smile of reassurance that quickly faded. “Or close enough to make no difference—and I don’t answer to Sherra.”

  Jess had the sneaking suspicion that that meant Sherra had said no, but Arlen didn’t elucidate. He gave Carey a look that meant trouble—fists propped against his hips, legs planted. “And I’ve got plenty of questions of my own, not the least of which is what the Hells did you think you were doing, trotting off to face wizard outlaws on your own?”

  “Oh, come on,” Carey said, shifting against the stump and bringing one careful knee up as a casual rest for his arm. “You knew we were up to something, even before you got yourself blasted by the outlaws.”

  “And I expected to be invited!” Arlen said, his eyes flashing sudden anger—not to mention a clear hint of hurt.

  Jaime winced. “We thought that would put you in a bad spot with the Council.”

  “I don’t suppose it would have made any difference—you’d have gone on without me once I let Willand clobber me.” Arlen sighed, and dropped his hands to his sides. “I started making sense again the same evening you took off—not that anyone noticed you were gone until the next day, with the uproar. I’ve been searching ever since—unfortunately, I’m not quite myself, or I’d have found you before now.” He smiled slightly. “Dayna’s spells notwithstanding, that is.”

  Carey rose far enough to sit on the stump. “And how did you find us?”

  “The outlaw shield started fraying a short while ago—I traced the spell booth from that last burst of magic. I won’t be the last.” He cocked his head, and Jess turned wary, looking around—wondering what he heard that she hadn’t, and if it meant danger.

  “Especially not after that,” Arlen added. “Dayna’s realized she can ram through the shield from the inside—she’s calling Sherra.”

  He closed his eyes a moment, then said, “There. I don’t know Dayna for a direct, but I got through to Sherra. She’ll pass on to Dayna that you’re all right.”

  “More or less,” Carey said. “Arlen, our shieldstones and Jess’s clothes are still in the cabin—it was Willand’s, and we haven’t gone near her work space. If you’d check for wardspells, we can get them back again.”

  “Easily,” Arlen said. “Just give me a moment.” And he paced through the clearing, skirting Ernie’s body... stopping to take in the sight of Willand’s body... nodding once. He examined the signs of struggle at Lady’s tree, lifting and discarding, with some disdain, the quirt Shammel had left behind. He moved to the other side of the clearing to run his hand down the length of the fallen tree—and then returned to the stump, in the approximate center of the clearing, making a quick gesture that encompassed the hill before them.

  Some distance up the hill, paralleling the trail, a tree glowed orange and faded. Arlen asked, “Who is it?”

  “Shammel,” Carey answered shortly. Arlen nodded, took a quick moment to assess Carey’s hurts, and headed into the cabin while Ander and Jaime hovered at its door.

  Jess went to Carey then, and sat beside him.

  Carey took her hand. “Jess, I’m all right. I mean... yes, I hurt. But I’m alive, and it was worth it. I’m afraid to even look at what Shammel’s done to you.”

  “I hurt,” she said, echoing his words. She eased her shoulder around within the oversize shirt. “But yes. It was worth this, to stop Willand and the outlaws. But I still feel sad for you. I can’t help it.”

  Carey ran his thumb along each of her fingers in turn. “I’ve seen too much of that look in the last year. I was about convinced I wasn’t good for much anymore.”

  “That’s not true!” Jess protested, tightening her hand on his.

  “No, it’s not. When it counts... when I decide to, I can still do what’s needed.”

  That, Jess realized, was true. And she would have to learn to let him make those decisions, just as he would have to let her make hers. “Yes,” she said, and then leaned against him—only long enough to touch, and then they pulled away from one another with startled and simultaneous noises of discomfort.

  Carey gave her a pained grin. “For the moment,” he said, “I’ve decided that we should both just watch for a while.”

  “Clothes, Jess!” Jaime called, reaching into the cabin to accept the bundle from Arlen.

  “No breasts,” Jess whispered to Carey as if in conspiracy, and Carey laughed.

  Jaime joined them at the stump, dropping the clothes in Jess’s lap. “Put ’em on, Jess. You’re killing Ander.”

  Jess quickly pulled on her breeches—but balked at the shirt, the tailored fit of which would rub against her whip welts. “It will hurt.”

  Jaime made a sympathetic face. “Well, hang on to it. Someone’ll come along with a magic first aid kit before this is over.”

  Arlen returned with their spellstones. Jess let her shieldstone nestle in her hand, growing warm and sticky with the heat of her skin while Arlen sat down and started lobbing point-blank questions at them.

  Jess heard for the first time the events at the other cabin, and that Benlan was dead at Jenci’s hand. Then Ander spoke of the gorge, and he kept his voice light—but Jess exchanged a quick look with Jaime, and knew.

  It had been much more than a simple ride, it had been a ride few couriers could have survived.

  And he had done it to reach her. But he knew, now, that she was with Carey, and that there was no changing that. She’d seen it in his face, in the carefully blank expression when he looked at her.

  Arlen finally ran out of questions. He stood, his fingers moving ever so slightly. “I’ve cleared the others to come through. I hope you’re ready. The Council isn’t happy when someone takes action against wizards without their sanction.”

  “Then they should have done it themselves,” Jaime said sharply.

  “Of course they should have.” Arlen rested his hand on her shoulder, a brief and affectionate touch. “Keep it in mind when they all start shouting at you at once. It’ll make things easier.”

  Jaime made a grumbling noise, and Arlen drew her aside, murmuring something that teased a smile out of her. Jess caught only snatches of words. Jaime’s expression said more—her growing smile... the way she let Arlen cup her f
ace.

  Ander scrubbed a hand over his rumpled hair, oblivious to that private discussion. “What now?”

  Jess heard the real question in his voice. When do we get to go home? When can we just be couriers again?

  He wanted to go back to Kymmet, of course. Jess gave Carey a sudden startled look, realizing that while she, too, would go to Kymmet, it would not be to stay.

  She’d gone there a year earlier because she needed to learn about herself—to learn how to be Jess without being overly dependent on Carey.

  She’d listened and watched and read, trained horses, and tried to train herself. She and Lady had struggled with one another, fighting to stay separate so human did not confuse horse and horse did not control human.

  But that wasn’t the answer. She was not some thing that could be divided into parts. She was a whole, and each part had to reach for the other.

  Carey was watching her, his hazel eyes solemn—and just a bit anxious, as if Ander’s desire to return to Kymmet had reminded him of Jess’s place there. “Coming home?”

  To me, he meant. To me, and not Kymmet.

  Jess nodded, and replied as if they were the only two there. “Damn straight.”

  She was a whole, now, and he was part of both her selves. She wasn’t Jess, sometimes, or Lady others.

  She was Dun Lady’s Jess.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  CHANGESPELL LEGACY

  Doranna Durgin

  Blue Hound Visions

  Tijeras, NM

  “If you like animals, try Doranna Durgin's novels. She has a way with words as well as a good knowledge of animals and their owners. In this novel, she beautifully portrays a personality that is a blend of horse and human, with an uncommon wisdom from both sides.”

  —Arthur W. Jordin

  “A splendid example of how speculative fiction can let us deal with difficult topics at a safe remove. It’s not preachy, it’s not heavy-handed, it’s just a wonderful picture of people screwing things up and then trying to unscrew them.... Most highly recommended.”