Changespell 01 Dunn Lady's Jess

by Doranna Durgin

  "Guards!" the man cried down the stairwell, as he frantically tried to get out of the way. Jaime rode him down without a second thought, feeling the slight stumble of Lady's step over his legs, thinking only of the fact that there were others below him. With a raw shout of encouragement, she urged the dun mare downward, trying not to think about what would meet them when they got there.

  * * *

  Lady felt the soft flesh beneath her hooves and quailed inside, ever fearful of uneven footing. She remembered the stairs, but she remembered them at a much slower pace, and the speed to which Jaime urged her on brought out the sweat of fear on her neck, lathered with the rub of the reins. "Come, Lady," Jaime said, a firm encouragement not at all like Carey's wooing tone. But Lady gathered herself to it, and ignored the slips and twists of her feet against carved stone until they were finally on level ground.

  The black surged ahead of her then, clearing the way with his bulk and scattering men and women like poorly stacked wood. Jaime abandoned her tightly controlled riding and turned Lady's head loose, offering one solid thump of her legs to release the speed that waited. Lady knew the way from here, knew how the hall opened up into the stable that was built at the bottom of the hill, and crowded up against the black's hindquarters, ignoring the tightly tucked tail of his protest.

  Behind them the shouting grew, and a wild arrow clattered against the ceiling above them, scaring Jaime and Lady both so that their balance of togetherness was lost and Lady's leg skidded out in front of her; Jaime clutched mane and left the reins alone and Lady caught herself, feeling the wrongness in her leg and forgetting it just as quickly as they came to the closed stable door and she slid right into the gelding. Her head knocked Carey out of the saddle and he grabbed it, using her to steady his fall. He landed on his feet, lurching for the door and slamming it aside to leave nothing before them but an empty road. The black wasted no time, bounding forward like a racer at the start while Arlen clutched his mane and fumbled for the reins, an insignificant passenger on the back of power and fear.

  "Carey!" Jaime shouted, extending her hand, sticking her foot out while she pulled hard at Lady's mane to keep her seat. Carey grabbed her hand and used the foot for a step, settling down on Lady's loins.

  "Go," he shouted, as sharp fire raked across Lady's thigh, an arrow skimming through her flesh. She bolted forward, trying to adjust herself to the extra weight and floundering awkwardly while missiles flew around them and two pairs of legs tried to steady her and urge her on. Then she caught her stride, and the shouts fell away behind them along with the arrows.

  The black should have been too far ahead to catch, but he loomed suddenly in her vision, and Jaime's hands quivered their uncertainty through to the bit as the three men blocking their way became clear. With great effort Lady abandoned her speed, and when Carey slid off to the side of her rump, she stopped short, confused. He stood beside her, his feet planted wide and his hands out straight in front of him, holding an acrid smell that suddenly exploded.

  Lady exploded, too, rearing and coming out of it ready to bolt; Jaime caught her with a rein that doubled her back in a tight circle, a circle she rabbited around while Carey stood steadily, his arms jerking up in synchronization with his noise. Then he ran for the gelding, who stood trembling and riveted, refusing to move even after Carey was up and kicking. Jaime released the rein and Lady shot out in front of them, waking the gelding and leading him away from the bedlam at her top speed.

  After a moment Jaime steadied her to a more deliberate pace, and the gelding drew aside them. Carey motioned for Jaime to follow and took the gelding off the road, guiding them first through plowed garden land and then into sparse woods, where they hit a path Lady knew. She followed its contours with confidence, losing some of her alarm and running now for Carey and Jaime, and running because she could and her spirit swelled when she was asked to do so, even when it was along a path that was meant for an even trot, even as her muscles took the fire from her lungs and held it into themselves. In front of her, the gelding floundered, unfamiliar with the path and burdened by two. Jaime shouted ahead and Carey only shook his head, moving as close to the edge of the path as he could get, and yelling back over his shoulder, "Run, Lady!"

  Her ears flicked up and Lady took the lead in the failing daylight, guiding them over deadfalls, splashing shallow creek water high with her passage, settling into a steady pace, her sense of self-preservation lost to her courage. When she topped the shallow rise and found two men with shiny blades blocking the way to the tiny clearing in the rock-walled basin beyond, Lady never faltered, but charged by them, ignoring Jaime's cry and thundering down between rock formations to the hollow, where she fought with Jaime over stopping.

  People rushed at them; Lady vaguely recognized Dayna and Mark and ignored their fuss and holler of greeting, the way they bumped her as Jaime slid off her back to embrace them, her own stumble as she suddenly felt her lameness. She struggled to make sense of this wrongness in her front leg; it mixed with anger at being hampered and she tried to jerk the reins away from Jaime, utterly unappeased by the soothing noises everyone was suddenly making at her.

  "Down, Lady," Carey said, one of her Words but not one she was willing to obey, not now, and it didn't even create hesitation as she thrashed at the end of the reins, finding in the mindless struggle a relief from the stresses that had driven her there, too full of the run to react any other way. Dragging Jaime with her, she careened off one of the jutting rock formations, landing wrong on the leg that suddenly betrayed her, taking her down with its failure.

  Instantly, Carey was on her, sitting on her neck up close to her head; so encumbered, she was helpless to rise. She flailed angrily about, her legs scrabbling for purchase they couldn't find while the fulcrum of her neck was immobilized. Carey stayed with her, murmuring desperate pleas until at last she needed breath and lay still, her lungs heaving, her body momentarily stilled, and her brain reaching for that small numb corner that lured her with its understanding of things human.

  * * *

  "By all the hells," Carey said wearily, kneeling warily on Lady's neck. "Horses can be so stupid sometimes."

  "It's just the same spirit that got her here," Jaime snapped. She rubbed the stinging on her thigh and looked down, astonished, when her hand smeared across warm slickness. That last man with his sword, she realized in amazement, and had a brief disagreement with her body about fainting when she saw the surgically neat edges of the shallow wound—and just as quickly decided it was a hundred times better than Willand's way.

  "Back off!" Mark yelled suddenly, staring up at one of the schist outcrops that surrounded them. "Be patient, why don't you? We're not going anywhere!" The audacity of the demand either struck a chord or was simply confusing; the blond head that had crept up to survey them withdrew, but Mark stepped back next to one of the hollow's few trees to stand watch, leaving the refugees to Dayna. "They showed up right after you left, Carey. They've been harassing us ever since—figured we were up to something, I guess."

  "They can see most of this hollow and you'll never know it," Carey told him, rubbing his face against the fabric of his sleeve, clearing the sweat that dripped despite the chill of advancing darkness. As one, they looked around the level-floored basin, a refuge that had suddenly become a stage. Except for the few trees that had somehow found a roothold in the rocky ground, there was no cover, and the vertical rock walls, though varied in length and filled with insignificant nooks and crannies, offered no quiet escapes. Carey nodded at the indented finger of space behind him, a niche that might have been a cave if the angled overhang of rock hadn't found ground so quickly. "Most of this hollow, that is, except for this back corner, where I am. To see this, they have to come out on that point, where they're just as vulnerable as we are."

  In unspoken accord, Jaime, Arlen, and Dayna moved in behind him, out of sight, cautious of Lady's apparent acquiescence. Arlen sat down on the rocky ground with a sudden thump, and looked as d
azed and half-crazed as the mare.

  "What now?" Dayna asked impatiently. "I told you we'd get to these little details sooner or later."

  "I don't know," Carey admitted candidly. "I'd hoped to run across some sign of Sherra's people by now. I don't even know what direction they might be in."

  "I don't know, either, but they're here," Jaime offered. "Arlen said—Arlen!"

  Arlen was tipping, tipping over, and Jaime lunged for him just in time to soften his landing. "He needs something to eat," she said with worry.

  "We brought—" Dayna started, then flattened herself against the rock wall behind them, eyes wide at the reemergence of Lady's spirit. The small pocket they stood in seemed suddenly like a trap as Lady fought Carey's weight on her neck, throwing him off and into the other three, bringing them all tumbling down. Jaime helped push Carey to his feet and he dove in after the reins even as Lady was on her way up; they battled each other, and Jaime tried to protect Arlen, cringing each time Lady's injured leg hit stone.

  "She'll ruin herself!" Jaime shouted at him, harsh and desperate, thinking of the racehorse Ruffian and her tragic death, and then thinking only of the dark looming bulk of Lady as the struggle grew precariously close.

  "Stop it!" Dayna screamed at them, shoved up against the rock. Eyes closed tight, hands clenched into fists at her sides, she shouted it again. "Stop it! You're not a stupid horse, you're Jess! You're Jess!"

  Omigod, Jaime thought, feeling the stir of magic. She knew, suddenly, what Dayna was trying to do, and she knew she should stop it, knew it was too much magic for the unwilling neophyte wizard to handle, and that Arlen, although he was stirring, was not focused enough to be of help.

  But the part of her that longed for Jess' safety kept her still, crouched over Arlen, eyes riveted on Lady as she flung Carey into a tree and then had to battle the leverage he gained by taking a half-wrap of the reins around its trunk. It was a strange montage of flying hooves and whipping mane, of the thick feel of magic, of Carey's shouted protests and equine grunts of effort and anger that suddenly turned into a human cry of fear and pain. Carey flew backwards, the empty bridle smacking him on the chest as he landed hard. Unmindful of the impact, he immediately got to his knees and crawled to the dazed creature before him: Jess, tangled in a dun horse's gear, disoriented and bewildered, whimpering quietly in the sudden silence.

  Magic still swirled thick in the air, poised to strike if Dayna lost control, but it was a danger Jaime shoved far back in her mind as she watched Carey take Jess into his arms and whisper reassurance into the tangled fall of hair that covered most of her face. For that moment the world was still, letting them focus on the return of one lost. And then its dangers closed back around them, fast and furious.

  One look at Dayna and Jaime's hand clutched Arlen's bony shoulder, shaking him a little as she directed his attention to Dayna and said fiercely, "Never mind the fainting, Arlen—help Dayna let go of the magic!" And then she left him, knowing that if the magic backlashed, it backlashed, and there was nothing more she could do about it. She headed for the open, and the saddles of the two horses that stood hobbled in the center of the hollow. They weren't far, and those blankets would be much drier than the one Lady had been wearing until a moment before. Single-minded in purpose, Jaime jumped at Mark's cry of warning, heard the twang of his bowstring, and ran, snatching the blanket up with such speed that she was halfway back to the safe area before she heard the sickening thump of deadweight meat and bone hitting the ground behind her.

  "You dumb son of a bitch!" Mark hollered, half to the dead man and half to his quickly retreating friend. "Leave us alone!"

  "Come out where I can see you, then," the remaining fighter yelled back. "I won't hurt you. I just want to keep an eye on you!"

  "Go fry!" Mark fired back, a mild curse he'd picked up since his arrival in Camolen.

  By then Jaime was back in the pocket, where the magic swirled its thickest but seemed, she thought, less than it had been. She handed the blanket to Carey—dropped it on him, actually, and then dropped herself to the ground as well, suddenly feeling dazed and light-headed, and thinking in abrupt revelation that her baby brother had just killed a man. She sat with her head between her knees for the moments that the magic took to fade away, and then reached a little further inside herself, finding somehow the strength for practicalities. Arlen's loud and relieved sigh was, for the moment, the only sound in the magic-shocked air.

  Jaime lifted her head and found that the late evening light had finished slipping away, and that Carey's eyes were completely shadowed; she could gain no clues from them. "How is she?" she asked, taking a quick look around to see that Dayna and Arlen sat quietly against the rock wall behind them, and finding the flash of Mark's wristwatch in the moonlight out in the center of the hollow. The black gelding had joined the two tied horses, and waited with his head hanging, the reins trailing, for someone to care for him.

  "All right, I think," Carey responded. "Confused. Worn out and shook up, like the rest of us. I don't know about that leg—arm—yet."

  The dark huddle of blanket stirred, and with characteristic candidness, Jess said, "My arm hurts and I'm sitting on a stone. But I don't want Carey to stop holding me."

  Carey gave a short laugh, one that was tinged with emotion, the disbelieving relief of someone who can't really comprehend they've gotten something they wanted so very badly. "Jess, braveheart, I've got a stone under my butt as well. If I promise you can spend the entire night in these tired arms, can we move?"

  Jaime didn't hear a reply, but there must have been one; Carey kissed the disheveled hair that covered Jess' forehead and slowly unkinked his body to stand, carefully helping Jess to her feet and tucking the blanket around her when it threatened to slide off her shoulders.

  "Clothes," Jaime said. "You need something to wear." Gruesomely, her mind latched on to the thought of the dead man, and then wouldn't let go. "I'll get something," she offered, and pulled herself to her feet, suddenly beset by all the pains her body owed her, the slashed thigh and the worn muscles and even the incredible ache from the afternoon's session with Willand. She stifled a useless groan and moved off to the distasteful task of disrobing a corpse, hoping at least some of the clothes would fit.

  "Details," Dayna said, a still small figure against the lighter colored rock. "Food. The horses. And then there's the small matter of getting out of here before that guy gets reinforcements."

  "Run away," Mark's voice agreed, softly but wholeheartedly.

  Jaime was struggling with the man's shirt, trying to work uncooperative arms through the sleeves as she pulled it over his head; she finally realized it was the arrow that pinned the material to one of the arms, and she almost broke it off before it occurred to her that they might need all the ammunition they could get in order to make it out of the hollow, and she gave it a pull, surprised by the resistance. In the end she had to brace her feet against the limb and put her weight into it, and the arm finally let go of the arrow with a wet sound. By then Dayna was up and moving slowly among the horses, tying the black gelding, pulling off his saddle and letting it lay where it fell as she sloshed water into her hand for him. They finished their separate tasks and met in the middle of the hollow, Jaime's arms as full of clothes as Dayna's were with saddlebags, and together they stumbled back to the small sanctuary against the rock. Mark, moving quietly, met them there.

  "I don't think he'll bother with us until daylight," he said. "Hell, he'll see us if we try to leave." Then his teeth flashed a brief smile against the darkness. "Hey, Jess, welcome back."

  "Yes," she said.

  Wordlessly, Jaime handed Mark his arrow. Then she turned to Jess, who had moved, with Carey, to the back of the pocket. "C'mon, Jess, let's see what we can do with these."

  Jess dropped the blanket and stepped forward; Carey groaned and put his hand over his eyes, while Dayna said, "Jess, I thought we told you about that—"

  "Oh," she said, looking down at herself.
"That's right. No breasts. Well, don't look, then."

  Arlen snorted, a tired but amused sound. "So this is the woman you found inside The Dun's daughter. Beguiling."

  "How—" Carey started, then said, "Ah. Jaime told you. You were together long enough for that, then. You'll have to tell me what you two've been up to, Arlen."

  Jaime stopped short, a cold feeling freezing her hands as they shook out the shirt for Jess. "Nothing, Carey. We had a few minutes to chat, that's all. Can you get your sore arm through this, Jess?" Carefully, she threaded the sleeves over Jess' upstretched arms and pulled the shirt, a long, unhemmed, coarsely woven garment, down into place. "No underwear, I'm afraid," she said brusquely, holding out the trousers for Jess to step into, "and though I managed to get the boots off, I don't think they'll fit. Of course, you never were much of one for footwear."

  Awkward silence followed Jaime's abruptness and she filled it with activity, taking the laces of the baggy trousers from Jess' one-handed fumbling and tying them tightly over the curve of her hip. But Jaime's thoughts were far from the task, and all she cared about was what Arlen might say next.

  "I've only been completely out of food for a day," Arlen said, "but it's been lean for a lot longer. Do you think we could get at some of that food? I, for one, will think better on a full stomach."

  "Who wants to think?" Dayna nearly cried. "Give that black horse a minute to rest and then Mark said it best—run away."

  "How?" Carey said, his voice ragged with honesty. "We've got three tired horses and six people, at least one of whom doesn't have the strength to even mount up. The roads will be crawling with Calandre's people—we can't outrun them or outfight them. But they're not familiar with this area—aside from that guy up there, no one knows this little place exists. Hell, he doesn't even have any idea who we are—just that we don't belong. And if he could call for reinforcements, he'd have done it by now. You'd have felt that, Dayna."