Justan stroked her head, It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.
“Stardeon fled with me, running from place to place for many years. He stayed in the wilderness, keeping away from people in fear that we would be seen and somehow the prophet would know where to find us.
“I was a reminder of his guilt and he found it difficult to speak with me at first, especially since I had Sam’s face. Then one day he gave me my name and somehow that seemed to help him feel better. He started teaching me how to read and write and told me about magic and the way things worked. In many ways he was a father to me. But he never talked about the past.
“Then Stardeon began to age. It happened rapidly. He seemed to age five years for every year that passed. He told me that it was because he had broken the bonds that gave him a long life. Then one night, he broke down and told me everything that had happened. Once he had confessed what he had done, I was shocked. I told him that we had to return and care for the other rogue horses.”
“But what happened to them while you were gone?” Justan asked. Gwyrtha had cut off her memories but he thought he had an idea.
“The rogue horses were found by brigands and smugglers,” Coal said. “By then they had become highly sought after for their attributes and the majority of them were rounded up and sold off to wizards and wealthy nobles.”
“I’ve heard it said that rogue horses died in captivity.” Justan said. “But that never made sense to me. Why would that be?”
“That tale started because the majority of them were accidentally destroyed by wizards who tried to discover how they were made. Unfortunately, the benefits of having a rogue horse mean nothing if you aren’t a bonding wizard and this frustrated the people who wanted to use them. They were fine until their captors tried to tamper with the magic that held them together.” Coal sighed. “Continue on please, Samson.”
The centaur nodded. “Stardeon and I discovered what had happened when we arrived back at his hideaway. The rogue horses were gone and most of the buildings had been destroyed. The only place that hadn’t been looted was Stardeon’s laboratory and that was because the entrance had been well hidden. But when we entered, we found John waiting for us. He didn’t look angry. Just sad.
“Stardeon fell to his knees, begging him to tell us where the rogue horses were. John said, ‘I was only able to save a small number of them. I have them hidden in a safe place.’ Stardeon wept and said, ‘Are you here to take my bonding magic away?’ John shook his head and replied, ‘You tore away most of it yourself the day you made those rings of yours. The rest of it left you the moment you destroyed your friend.’
“Then John called me by name, climbed on my back, and took me to join my brothers and sisters. He had them hidden in a small mountain valley. There weren’t very many, just a small herd of thirty. He put me in charge and left me instructions that I was to make sure we stayed in the valley and approached no one unless they were with him.
“We stayed in that valley over the centuries, running and playing. John was our only visitor. A few times, he brought in stragglers, members of the herd that he had found and saved. Then one day he began to take them away. Gwyrtha was one of the first to go. One by one, the prophet came and took the rest. There were only five of us left the day he came for me.”
“And what happened to Stardeon?” Justan asked.
“We don’t know,” Coal said. “But over the years his rings reappeared from time to time, always in the hands of some foul wizard doing the dark prophet’s bidding.”
“What a sad story,” Justan said.
“It’s a story I wish more wizards knew,” Coal said. “The mentality that led Stardeon to do the things he did still thrives at the Mage School.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Justan asked.
“The records of those days are a bit disjointed since the prophet’s ban on spirit magic caused many of the relevant histories to be expunged from the library. The only mention of Stardeon that I was able to find was just over a thousand years ago.”
“A thousand years . . .”
Justan stewed over the lesson all evening. Stardeon’s tragic story was hard for him to stomach. What the man had done was so evil and yet the result of his mistakes had been the rogue horses, a race of beasts that were pure and innocent. It didn’t seem right that something so good could come out of something so wrong. Justan was still churning the story over in his mind as he recounted the lesson to Fist later that night.
“Gwyrtha is a thousand years old?” Fist said.
Shh! The others may be sleeping, Justan sent. They had bedded down for the night an hour prior and Gwyrtha lay right behind him, snoring lightly.
But . . . All those years and there were so few of them. Fist thought. What about their babies?
I wondered the same thing, Justan responded. Rogue horses can’t breed. Stardeon felt that having children was a distraction that his ‘perfect bonded’ didn’t need. He didn’t make them with . . . the necessary parts.
Ohhhh. That explains it, Fist sent. I wondered why Samson was . . . He made a cutting motion with his fingers.
The term is gelded, Justan said. But no, he was just created that way.
Oh. Fist settled back onto his pillow. So when do you start learning how to make Gwyrtha grow?
Tomorrow, Justan said. But I feel uneasy about it. I’ll be using the bond to go inside her body and change her basic structure.
Coal will help you. You will do good.
Yeah, but what if I mess up? I mean, you are right that Master Coal will be guiding me, but at the very least, it could be uncomfortable or even painful for Gwyrtha.
She won’t mind, Fist said. She likes to help you learn.
“But that’s the thing, Fist. She has no choice.” I learned that tonight, remember? Stardeon made rogue horses to be willing slaves. Gwyrtha was created to be eager to do what I ask of her.
“You don’t treat Gwyrtha like a slave,” Fist said aloud.
“Well, I definitely don’t try to.” But now I have to question myself every time I ask her for something. And then when she does what I ask her to, I have to wonder if she is doing what I asked because she really wants to or because she is forced to want to by the compulsion that Stardeon built into her, Justan sent, his mind awash with worry.
Fist scratched his head as he processed Justan’s rambling thoughts. But she does not always obey you. What about when she buries Lenny?
Well, I tell her not to, but I think she knows that I actually find it kind of funny, Justan admitted. Even Lenny, as loud as he gets about it isn’t seriously angry. I think he kind of likes having something to bluster about.
“And when she plays that game where she tries to buck you off?” Fist asked.
Justan shook his head. I thought about that, and you’re right, I do get frustrated with her when she does that and I tell her to stop, but I know she’s being playful, and she can sense that. She always stops when she knows I am really upset about it.
“Hmm . . .” What about the time when you were at the Mage School and she left the elves to come see you?
Well, she . . . Justan thought about it and a slow smile began to spread across his face. He had been completely serious about wanting her to stay away then. He told her not to come and she came anyway. “I think you are right, Fist. Thank you.”
You think about these things very hard, Justan. Fist smiled. That is because you are a good man and that is what makes you a good leader.
Justan blinked. He felt a surge of affection coming through the bond from the ogre.
“I am proud to be your bonded,” Fist said aloud.
“Th-thank you,” Justan said in surprise. He returned the ogre’s affection. “I am glad to have you with me, Fist.”
Me too, said Gwyrtha. Evidently she was not as asleep as Justan had thought.
Deathclaw sat in the trees above and listened through the bond, his mind full of confusion.
Chapter Eleven
Justan heard Coal’s instructions through Gwyrtha’s ears. He had extended his mind as far into his bond with her as he had ever let himself go. The last time he had been this deep within her mind, he had almost abandoned his body altogether. It didn’t take long for him to remember why.
Even after getting used to the enhanced senses his bond with Deathclaw gave him, Justan found the depth of Gwyrtha’s senses overwhelming. While his nose recognized the complex smell of the grassy plain they traveled through, her nose picked out each individual element; the damp earth, the freshness of newly growing grass, the smell of Alfred and Stanza in the lead, and the pungent tang left by the wolves that had marked their territory the night before. Where his ears caught the sound of each horse’s hoof-falls, she could differentiate between them by their heaviness and rhythm.
Justan did his best to fight through the sensations and remain aware of his body as it lay forward in the saddle, his hands gripping Gwyrtha’s mane and his feet in the stirrups. Gwyrtha could feel his weight on her back, but even added with the weight of her saddlebags and Qyxal’s body, it wasn’t much of a burden. The thought of Qyxal sobered his mind and he refocused on the task at hand.
“Are you to the point where you are at one with her senses?” Coal asked.
Justan made his head nod.
“Now, switch to your mage sight.”
Justan’s mind was ablaze with color. He almost lost track of his body again, but somehow retained enough focus to grip her mane more tightly. Gwyrtha’s every cell was ablaze with elemental magic strung together in a complex and chaotic looking pattern.
“And now spirit sight.”
Justan pulled the wispy shroud of the bond around his mind and saw the spirit magic that tied her body together. He could now see how all of it moved in rhythm with the beat of her dragon heart.
“Now focus on her right ear.”
Justan guided his senses though her body to focus on her ear. They had agreed beforehand that it was the most unobtrusive part of the body to manipulate while she was on the move. Now please bear with me, sweetheart, he sent.
Are you tickling me now? Gwyrtha asked.
I’m not sure how it will feel. Samson says it doesn’t hurt though. Just let me know if it gets too uncomfortable. Justan reached out with his magic as he would if he were healing her ear, but this time he used his spirit magic instead of elemental magic. He willed the ear to grow.
“Go slowly, now,” Coal said.
Her horse-like right ear shot up four inches.
“Slowly!” Coal said. “Too fast and you could burst some blood vessels. You can go faster once you get the hang of it, but you need to give her body time to adjust to the change.”
Justan heard the wizard’s warning, but couldn’t help exulting in his success. This was the third day of trying and finally a result! He checked her ear and it seemed to be fine. How did that feel?
My ear is big, she replied.
Yes, but was it uncomfortable?
I felt it get big, she said and Justan could tell that though she didn’t necessarily like it, it hadn’t been painful.
“Now the other one. See if you can make it grow to match.” Coal said. “That will be key, especially when we get around to making her whole body grow.”
Now that Justan had done it once, he had a better idea of how to approach it. Her left ear grew, this time more slowly. When he stopped, it was very close to the same size.
“Good, now it’s time to bring them back to normal. Her body will know automatically when it is back in the proper form. You’ll know what I mean when you get there. It will just feel right.”
Justan was dubious, but the wizard was right. When he had shrunk her ears back to their correct size, they seemed to want to stop. It would take extra effort to get them to shrink further.
“Good. Again!”
This went on through much of the morning, Justan making Gwyrtha’s ears grow and shrink, alternating back and forth, then making them grow together. Gwyrtha was a remarkably good sport about it. Even though she wanted to please him, it was a constant irritation. Justan could tell she was relieved when they stopped for midday break. He was going to have to make it up to her later which, he noted ruefully, probably meant letting her play that game where she tried to buck him off.
They dismounted and Lenny passed out dried meat and hard rolls. It was a meager meal for someone that had been using magic all day, but it was what they had. Justan was half way through his roll, when Deathclaw interrupted.
There is an encampment ahead.
Justan paused mid-bite. He scanned the horizon, but the ground ahead was hilly. He didn’t see anything at first, but then his eyes caught the faint smudge that could only be smoke from a campfire. How many?
Deathclaw thought a moment, still working on translating his way of thinking about numbers to Justan’s. They had been working on it together bit by bit, but the raptoid had little patience for training through the bond. Six, he said finally. And they are short ones . . . like Lenui.
Dwarves? Justan asked in surprise.
Yes.
“Lenny!” Justan said.
“Huh?” The dwarf was sitting next to Bettie, talking quietly. Since deciding to be open about their relationship, the two bickered quite a bit less. They were even affectionate from time to time. Justan had seen them holding hands the night before.
“Deathclaw says there’s an encampment of dwarves ahead,” Justan said. “Six of them. And by the smell Deathclaw sent, they have been on the road a while.”
Do I attack? One is making waste in the bushes. I could tear its throat without a sound.
No, Deathclaw. Dwarves aren’t likely to be enemies. Just watch them.
Lenny approached him, worry on his face. “What’d they look like? Was they ridin’ horses?”
Justan asked Deathclaw quickly. “No, but they have a horse-drawn wagon. Does that count?”
“What’s got you worried, Lenui?” Bettie asked.
The dwarf ignored her question. “What ‘bout their faces?”
Justan frowned. What was Deathclaw supposed to do with that question? “What is it exactly you’re looking for, Lenny?”
“Their gall-durned face hair, dag-nab it! Beards or ‘staches?”
Deathclaw sent Justan a vision of what they looked like.
“Full thick beards,” Justan said. “Also, they are wearing mismatched sets of armor.”
“Is there any reason we shouldn’t simply travel around to avoid them, Lenny?” Coal asked.
Lenny scowled in thought for a moment. “Nah, I’d better talk to ‘em. Dwarves ain’t usually out in these parts. Maybe they know somethin’ we can use. Edge and I’ll go.”
“Just the two of you?” Coal asked.
“Less questions. Edge’ll call over and let Fist know if we need you,” Lenny said.
Master Coal looked a bit surprised to see Lenny take control like this, but he didn’t question him. “Of course, Lenny. If that’s what you feel is best.”
One of them sleeps, Deathclaw sent. I could take him and one other, then draw them towards you.
Don’t attack, Justan sent. Lenny and I are going to talk to them.
I will stay ready, Deathclaw replied, though Justan could tell he questioned the wisdom of conversing with a potential threat. Tell me when to strike.
Justan shook his head and led Lenny in the direction of the dwarven camp. Even with spring just begun, the grass was as high as the dwarf’s chest. Justan waited until they were out of earshot of the others before speaking. “What was that about back there?”
The dwarf raised his one remaining bushy eyebrow. “Whaddya mean, son?”
“Why were you so concerned about what the other dwarves looked like?”
“Look, there’s certain kinds of dwarves it’d be best fer us to avoid is all. Just wanted to be sure.”
“Why should we be worried about dwarves?” Justan asked. He had never heard of dwarves being anything but hard working industrial folk. Dwarven bandits would be an oddity for sure. “And why did you ask about their facial hair? The only dwarf I’ve seen wear just a moustache is you.”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 17
