What had I ever seen in Bren?
For the life of me, I didn’t know. A goat had more charm, couth, and bearing. Bren was more like-like a donkey. A stubborn, smelly donkey.
Wonder how a donkey would fare against a slither?
Hmm. I would have to have Rol wake a slither for the training, first thing on the morning. No, no. Better yet, I would wake it myself and deliver it. With proper shielding, of course, since they were protected beasts.
Oh, why not now? My own little surprise, just for the initiate. He could not ask for a greater proving-challenge.
But it had been months since I transported an object as large as a slither. I knew I should practice at least once before I went to the smithy. The thought of making a fool of myself in front of Bren was profoundly unpleasant.
I strode into the kitchen, nearly startling my elfling cook beyond recovery. Acaw glared at me over a pot of stew large enough to roast three of his kind, and raised his thick eyebrows. In the window, his crow-brother ruffled his feathers and gave a sharp cry of rebuke, but Acaw said not a word.
Typical.
Even the masters of the wood dared not speak against the Queen of the Witches. I barely heard three words out of Acaw on a favorable day; therefore, I didn’t bother with conversation. He grunted as I headed for the back door, already concentrating, already working the transport spell.
The back bailey stretched before me, quiet and deserted. Overhead, the sun was mid-sky and waning. My hands whirled before me, over and over, building speed. Building power. I picked a spot close on the path in front of me, around a blind curve from the smithy so Bren and Rol couldn’t observe my trial transport.
Drawing a breath, I reached out with my hearing, deep into the nearby woods. Small heartbeats. Large. Larger still. Ah! Huge and doubled! A slither!
My fingers curled to a fist, and my muscles shook with the effort of concentration. A bang—
well, in truth, a small explosion—announced the success of my spell.
When I opened my eyes, I was barely five lengths away from one of the largest slithers I had ever seen. Freshly wakened from its day sleep, it was too sluggish to react in good time.
Luminous green scales shifted along its enormous neck as it turned its stupid eyes in my direction. Ground trembled beneath the lash of its ridged tail. Claws as large as my leg dug into the earth, and the beast opened its cavernous, toothy mouth. The stench of charred flesh filled the air as it spread wings almost the length of the bailey.
I threw up my hand just in time to shield myself from a massive blast of fire.
Yes, I thought as the flames broiled around my protective veil. This beast will do quite nicely. Perhaps Bren will wish to kiss it, too.
The slither stopped its attack. Scales crinkled as it turned its neck once more, tracking something behind it—and my heart ceased beating.
By the Goddess! Bren. Here, now!
The boy had come to a halt near the slither, obviously stunned into inactivity. His eyes were wide and his arms hung straight by his side.
Smoke poured from the slither’s nostrils, and it roared.
My skin crawled. I nearly gagged from the beast’s rotten odor. I scarce had a chance to throw a shield around Bren before the beast breathed a wall of fire right on his head.
Of all the ridiculous luck!
As the fire dispersed, Bren staggered and grabbed for his sword. He yanked at it, but thank the fates, the sheath held the blade well. He wasn’t yet accustomed to the weapon.
The slither swung its head back and forth and flicked its wings as I worked feverishly on my transport spell. My mouth had gone dry, and my head pounded. This was not the satisfying scene of vengeance I had planned. I couldn’t allow the beast to hurt Bren. Moreover, I could not risk Bren hurting the slither. Part of Father’s peace accord with the oldeFolke had involved protecting endangered species needed for their spellwork.
Weakness. Mind and blood. Mother was right.
The hags would mutiny. Never mind the klatchKovens and all other witches. The oldeFolke would come unhinged if Bren damaged one scale on the slither’s ugly head.
Leave it to me to cause the Shadowalker to violate the protection of sacred beasts. I could just hear my mother. If I had to banish Bren to the shadows and consign all witches to their doom over something I did…
My fingers ached from spell-moving. Another few seconds yet. Just a few.
Bren was yelling so loudly his voice drowned the hammer of the slither’s dual heart. Clearly in shock, he yanked again on his sword hilt, stumbled, and fell on his backside.
The slither charged just as I curled my fingers to a fist.
The afternoon exploded with the force of my spell. Grass and leaves, even stones, swirled, sucked into the vortex. Bren began to slide forward. A huge crash echoed through the bailey, and the beast disappeared.
With every ounce of energy I possessed, I held the spell, and held and held until I was sure the slither had been returned to its day lair. Then, exhausted, I dropped to my knees, rocks biting into my flesh as I hit the ground.
I could barely breathe.
Bren was up now, having recovered his senses. He strode back and forth across the bailey, raking one hand through his hair, and still shouting. “What was that thing? A dragon? Why was it here? What did you do with it?”
Rol’s angry voice cut through the chaos. “It was a slither, boy.” The training master treated me to a foul-humored glare as he came to a stop at Bren’s side. “A dragon, yes. And a beast with no earthly business out from its lair in daylight.”
Rol’s judging tone lodged beneath my skin. I forced myself to my feet, returning his wicked stare. In a few seconds, Rol looked away.
Not a victory, no. My training master was choosing not to fight with me. Somehow, that hurt worse than a tongue-lashing.
He clapped his hand against Bren’s back. “Never fear. You will have opportunity to face beasts much worse than slithers in a fair fight one day.”
Bren grinned at Rol like an old friend before smirking at me.
Fire ignited in my belly, hotter than any slither might offer. Had Bren won my training master away from me so easily? Rol was loyal to me. Only me! If I lost him, I would have—
I would have no one.
No one and nothing.
Nothing at all.
Bren sauntered toward me across the grass, swaying as arrogant boys tend to do. In the background, Rol stood with arms folded, refusing my attempts to meet his eyes.
“You and I, we gotta talk,” Bren said.
“No,” I snapped. “We do not. Go inside. Or go and kiss Rol, as you so fondly desire. The two of you seem quite close now.”
Bren frowned, coming to a halt mere inches from me. “Rol told me what you did. About the Path and how you decided to trap me. Was there some reason you left that tidbit out of our little heart-to-heart this morning?”
My fingers bent of their own accord, and Rol moved quickly out of my line of sight. “I didn’t leave it out. You simply failed to understand. We were both distracted this morning. Speak whatever lies you will, but you’re as transparent to me as flat sandglass.”
“Am I?” Bren grinned, and I wanted to sear him a new mouth. “Read my thoughts. Go ahead. And while you’re at it, maybe you want to be more careful about conjuring up dragons in the yard. They don’t seem too friendly.”
“Leave me be,” I warned. “I have better things to do than spar with the likes of you.”
Bren snorted. “The likes of me? You’re the one who’s a liar! And you cheat, and you—you steal people off a public highway by making them have to take a piss. How could you do something like that to anyone? How could you do that to me?”
“Bren,” Rol said. He sounded worried.
“I did nothing to you on purpose!” I shouted. “Do you think I’d deliberately seek the one boy on Earth who would drive me to the brink of madness? I can’t believe I have to turn the fate of my mother—my en
tire kingdom—over to you!”
In one surprisingly fluid motion, Bren ripped his sword from his scabbard and threw it at my feet. “I didn’t ask for this, remember? Don’t witches have good memories?”
“Bren,” Rol said again, but I scarcely heard him over the rush of blood in my ears.
“By the Goddess, but I wish I could forget,” I growled. “Forget my father and hundreds more, murdered in ways you cannot imagine. Forget my people, hunted and terrified. Forget my mother, missing and in the grip of the worst evil that ever existed.” I lifted my chin and glared at him. “You’re the most callous cretin I’ve ever known!”
“You’re the cretin!” Bren yelled.
Rage poured energy through my every fiber. My hand moved before the next words even left his mouth. A flick of the wrist, and Bren flared like a falling star.
In seconds, he took on an appearance more befitting his personality. The huge ears were particularly to my liking, and the black hooves, too.
So there. You haven’t learned to resist my magic completely. How does it feel to be your true self?
Bren flicked his tail and blinked at me, and I smiled.
He made a much better donkey than a person, after all.
Laughing harder than I had laughed in months, I turned away from him and fairly skipped through the kitchen door.
***
Chapter Eleven
I felt weird.
And I had the sudden desire to bray.
Jazz had done something to me, but I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. For a moment, I was too stunned to move. My limbs tingled and I felt a little dizzy, and I had a hard time focusing. It was all I could do to watch her go back into the manor, cackling her stupid head off.
And it was like I was standing on my hands and feet, but taller. My ear twitched and rotated toward the sound of her laughter, and my tail swished.
My tail?
I tried to look at Rol, but I couldn’t see him by looking straight at him—as if my eyes were on either side of my head. I had to look out of one eye.
He was crouched down and staring at the ground, his arms resting on his thighs and his hands clasped.
“What happened?” My mouth felt huge and strange as I spoke. At least the witch hadn’t made me mute.
Rol shook his head and looked at me. “It is most unwise to upset the queen.”
“Whatever.” My hip started to itch and my skin shivered. “What did she do to me?”
“You are an ass,” he said.
“Well, thanks a lot.” I stomped a back hoof. “You’re no prince yourself.”
His lips twitched. “I mean to say that Her Majesty turned you into a jackass. A donkey.”
“A donkey?” My tail swished again and I shook my head. Hair flopped across my neck.
Rol sighed. “Aye.”
“What a total witch.”
“That she is.”
I bared my teeth and felt my lips curling. “Oh, I don’t just mean a witch, I mean a b—never mind.” My coat itched some more, like flies were crawling over my hide, and my skin shivered. “You’re a witch, too, right? So can you change me back?”
Rol sighed again and shook his head. “I am a witch. But I am not powerful enough to alter a spell of the Queen of the Witches.”
My stomach rumbled. I had a sudden craving for sweet oats and hay. A horsey smell met my nose, and I glanced around to see what it was.
Oh wait. That must be me.
I shook my head and stomped a hoof. “I guess I’ll just have to hunt her down and make her change me back.”
Rol’s gaze cut to me and his face twisted into a horrified expression that was almost comical. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so ticked at Jazz.
“Nay,” he said. “Dare not cross Her Majesty again. You had best remain here until she comes to her senses.”
“Bull.” I backed up, stumbled, and nearly fell over. When I tried to turn, I ended up going in circles a few times, making myself dizzier than I was before. I kicked out my hind legs, got my bearings, and headed toward the manor.
I pictured myself kicking my hind legs again, but this time right at Jazz, and knocking her to the moon. But, no. Even if she was a witch, she was still a girl. I was stronger than her, at least physically, and I wouldn’t hurt her like that.
I’d think up a better way to get even, no matter how long it took.
Behind me, Rol said, “It is most unwise…”
With my strange vision, my perception was off and I scraped my shoulder against the doorframe as I walked into the manor. I was so mad I barely felt a thing. My hooves clattered across the stone floor as I trotted through the kitchen.
“Where’s Jazz?” I asked a short man whom I suspected might be an elf.
The elf-dude dropped the bag of flour he was holding, and a cloud of white powder coated him, causing him to look like a small, white statue. His mouth and eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe what I was asking. Though maybe he just hadn’t had a donkey talk to him before.
“Well?” I asked.
“Drawing room,” he squeaked. Behind him, in one of the wide kitchen windows, a crow fluttered and squawked.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I never remembered being so mad in my life. My head was on fire, and I wanted to smash my fist—well, hoof—into a wall. But the walls were stone, and I would probably just have broken some bones.
One thing about having four legs was that I could run pretty fast. But when I rounded a corner, I skidded on the stone floor and my hooves almost went out from under me. I regained my balance, barreled into the drawing room, and stopped just short of running over Jazz. Right then I would have liked nothing better than to trample her under my hooves for humiliating me, but I managed to control myself
Jazz stumbled back, then straightened and gave me that snotty look of hers. “Leave before I turn you into a worm and grind you beneath my heel.”
It really ticked me off that I couldn’t look straight at her, that I had to stare out of one eye. “You can’t stand it if someone talks back to you or has a difference of opinion.”
She narrowed her gaze. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is.” I took a couple of steps toward her so that my donkey nose was practically in her face. “And it was wrong to use your magic on me like this. You’re no better than bullies who beat up a kid who isn’t as strong as them. I didn’t have a chance to fight back.”
Jazz clenched her fists, her cheeks turning bright red. “I’m warning you. Leave, or—”
“Or what?” I stamped a hoof and swished my tail. “You’re going to kill me? Oh, wait, I know. Turn me into a monkey to humiliate me some more. If this were a fair fight, I could take you down.”
She raised her hand. “Bren—”
“What’s with you?” I cut her off and blew air out my nostrils. “You take me away from my life, my family, my world, and shove me into this—this prehistoric hole—where there’s no way for me to get back unless I do what you need me to. And to top it all, you get off on turning me into a donkey.”
I tossed my head and stamped another hoof, hoping I was getting dirt all over her stupid floor. “Yeah, I have no choice, just like you said. You have chosen me. But I don’t give a crap about you or your family or any other witch. I’ll go fight your stupid Shadowmaster and then get out of here, because I’d like nothing better than to never see your face ever again.”
Jazz had turned so white that her eyes looked as bright as gold coins. I almost thought she looked ready to cry, but I didn’t feel a bit sorry for her. She clenched and unclenched her fists, and her lips moved, but nothing came out.
My idiotic tail swished as I glared at her out of one eye. At least I hoped it looked like I was glaring, if that was something donkeys could do. My heart pounded and my hide bristled. What if she did turn me into a worm and stomp on me?
She backed away, and then her hands moved so fast I could hardly see them. A flash of light blinded
me and my body tingled, like ants crawling over my skin. When I could see again, I staggered and fell to one knee.
Knee. Leather pants. Hands! I was me again.
My legs were shaky as I stumbled to my feet and faced her. Still she said nothing, her chin raised and a defiant glint in her eyes.
“While I’m being honest,” I said, standing so close I could have wrung her neck. “I really did want to kiss you this morning, and I know you wanted to kiss me, too. But after this little stunt, I can see what kind of person or witch you really are.” I folded my arms across my chest. “As far as I’m concerned, I want as little to do with you as possible. So let’s just get this training crap out of the way and get this whole mess over with so I can go home.”
Jazz went even paler and kept her mouth shut tight. Her fingers twitched as she raised her hand to her throat, and it was all I could do not to flinch.
Before she could say or do another thing, I stomped out the door of the drawing room. My skin crawled, as if her eyes were burning holes through my back. Ignoring her, I stormed through the strangely empty and spotless mansion.
I didn’t stop walking until I reached the yard, where I picked up my sword. When I didn’t see Rol, I sheathed the weapon and headed across the training yard toward the smithy. I found him there, sharpening his own blade.
He raised his eyebrows and stopped in mid-swipe. “The queen returned you to your normal form.”
“Yeah.” I rotated my shoulders, trying to work the knots out of my muscles. “We had another little heart-to-heart.”
With a nod, Rol stood and sheathed his sword. “You begged Her Majesty’s forgiveness.”
I snorted. “More like, I told her exactly what I thought about her. She’s nothing but a control freak, and when we get rid of Nire, I don’t ever want to see her again.”
“And she let you live?” Rol looked so shocked that I was afraid he was going to pass out on me.
“Yeah.” I shrugged.
He kept shaking his head, and he had this stupid smile. The kind a dad gets—a good dad—when his kid does something special. “By the Goddess. Never would I have dreamed to see the day.”
L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set Page 8
