"Five! Six! Seven!" Christina's meaty paw slapped the raccoon's posterior with sufficient force to leave a good sized welt. Her elbow pinned his back and free paw lifted his tail while she bent the naughty child over her knees. In the corner nearby an equally naughty rat whimpered from the paddling he'd already received. Thyla and Naomi kept watch on the other seven children who were giggling at their naughty friends.
And then to Christina's surprise as she landed spank number eight, the raccoon started to get bigger, tearing at the seams of his clothes as his chest, legs, and arms swelled to adult proportions. She was so shocked that she couldn't even let go of his tail. Rickkter blinked as understanding returned to him and to the other children all growing back to their normal sizes. "If you don't mind, madam, please let go of my tail!"
Christina laughed and grabbed the raccoon under one arm, and eased him off her legs. "Oh my! I'm so terribly sorry. Naomi, Thyla, fetch their clothes and gear!" Rickkter winced and rubbed at his thighs once before he grabbed a bit of ruined cloth and held it in front of his waist like a loincloth. The others all did the same thing, each of them looking around at the others with various expressions of embarrassment.
"What just happened?" James asked as he fumbled to conceal himself.
"The hyacinth was destroyed," Murikeer said, groaning and rubbing his forehead from the pain of using magic. "I can't see it anywhere anymore. Weyden must have... convinced her."
Thyla and Naomi unlocked the cupboard with their supplies and began handing out bundles of clothes. They brought Kayla and Maud's clothing out first, but were caught up short when they saw that Maud wasn't even a giraffe anymore. "It will be loose on me, but it is better than nothing," she said as she took the garments. She turned to Larssen who had a stricken expression on his long face. He reached out a gentle hoof-like hand and ran it down the bare skin of her back and face. "We'll be fine," she assured him. "This is how we thought it would be for us anyway."
Larssen sighed and nodded, turning both of them toward the wall as even the scraps of clothing he had left had proven insufficient to protect his modesty. "We will. Still, you know..."
She offered a small laugh and leaned against his hip. "Aye, I do."
Rickkter scowled fiercely at his friends as each of them received their clothes and gear. He also cast a withering glare at the bear who'd been spanking him a moment before. "If word of this get back to Misha, I swear I will make all of your lives so miserable you'll wish the hyacinth had won!"
"Oh I'm not telling Misha anything," Dallar said with a gruff laugh as he pulled on his trousers. "Not a bleat!"
"Is that anyway to talk to your friends?" Christina scolded with crossed arms.
Rickkter spun on her. "You're lucky... you're... just lucky. Damn that hurt!" And then he turned and gave the rat still attempting the loincloth look a rather superior smile.
Charles blinked at him and shook his head. "If you boast that you got fewer spankings than I did, no force on earth could keep me from telling Misha."
Murikeer, Kayla, and Van all doubled over in laughter. Rickkter blinked in surprise and then started to laugh as well. He took a step closer to the rat and nodded. "If you won't tell I won't."
"Sounds like a deal." Charles offered him a paw. The raccoon took it and they laughed together. For some reason, touching a Sondecki didn't bother him nearly as much as the soreness beneath his tail!
One moment Rhena was humming a little tune to herself as she cleaned out the stables for guests at the Evening Crow Inn while listening to the patter of rain on wooden shingles and the yard. The next she felt a thousand claws scratching all over her body inside and out, as well as a flood of memories mingling together that made her head feel as if it were going to burst like a melon dropped from a second story window. She dropped the rake and collapsed against the wall, trembling from ears to tail tip, jaw stretching in agony but tongue unable to form any words.
The pain dwindled to a dull ache persisting everywhere after a few seconds, but the strange mix of memories and identity continued to swirl in her head. She slid down the wall until she could sit and try to sort everything out. Strange memories of treetops, bows, slain elk, fighting Lutins, all flashed before her, some lingering longer than others, but all of them seemed so foreign to her life in Lyme Regis.
And then it became clear to Rhena that she had not always lived in Lyme Regis. And it was also clear that she had not always been a woman. The person of the masculine skunk who was a master archer, tracker, scout, and soldier slipped crack by crack through her memories of life in the farming village beneath the eastern cliffs. Receding from her were images of milking cows, cleaning up after the animals, serving patrons at the Inn, sewing, mending, and cooking. They did not disappear entirely, as Rhena did not disappear entirely. They merely faded into a shadowy veneer almost indistinguishable from one another.
But the life of the archer was a life she realized she knew and marveled at how she could have forgotten it. It was her own life, the life she was born to. It was the life of Berchem of Glen Avery. Rhena glanced down at herself, surprised that she was still the young farming girl that she had asked Jessica to make her over a month ago. Somehow she understood the spell had in part been broken, but she had not yet changed back.
What could that mean? Was she stuck as Rhena? Would she soon return to being Berchem?
The only one who could help her was Jessica. The hawk lived in Metamor. It was a three hour ride to Metamor, and with the rain coming it would likely take four. But she had to make the ride. And that meant it was time to say goodbye.
She gritted her fangs and pushed herself to her hind paws, smoothing out her skirt and tail. She still had some riding gear. Now to convince her employer, the Innkeeper, to lend her a horse for her journey home. A journey she hoped would bring her home at least.
Master Renauld and his family were very sorry to hear that she needed to leave. Renauld well remembered how Rhena had told them that one day she might need to leave and so consented to the end of her employment and of the end of her living under their roof. He did counsel that she wait until the morning because of the storm settling into the valley, but Rhena couldn't risk waiting. Although she could not quite say why, Rhena knew that if she waited another day, the chance to become Berchem again would be lost. And if that were lost, now with all the knowledge of the life she had once had and with her taste for it rekindled, she did not know what she might do with her life. She felt a deep affection and love for Renauld and his family, but she could never come back here. Not now.
In the end Renauld consented and offered her his strongest horse to help her along the muddy road. He even gave her a sack of fresh bread loaves to strengthen her on her way. Rhena, despite her awareness of Berchem and his usual reserved manner, found herself embracing Renauld, his wife, and their elder children with thanksgiving and a bit of sorrow as she said her final goodbyes. And then before she could change her mind, she donned a heavy cloak wide enough to hide her tail, mounted and started on the road toward Metamor.
The rain had only begun to soak the ground so the roads were still firm beneath the horse's hooves. The sky was a smear of dark gray in every direction. The cliff heights were hidden above the rain. The soreness in Rhena's body returned in intervals, but never with the agony of those first few moments. Despite this her thoughts were consumed only with reaching Jessica in time.
The storm rumbled above her.
By the time that Weyden and Jessica arrived in the mess hall, all of their friends were dressed, including Maud who'd been given a Lakeland uniform to wear until she could reclaim her old clothes at Metamor. Christina and Thyla had hurried home to escape the rain, leaving only Naomi to keep watch with them. When the two hawks entered, it was Kayla who rushed to Jessica's side first.
"Jessica, are you all right?'
Jessica shook her head. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me!"
"Forgiven," Kayla smiled and then wrapped her black-furred arms around the hawk's shoulders, hugging her tight. Jessica slipped free of Weyden's grasp and returned the hug, sweeping her wings out around the skunk's back. "I know what it was like," Kayla assured her. "Don't say anything about it."
"Except for all of the other things it made you do," Rickkter grumbled as he shifted about next to one of the walls. Everyone else had been sitting when the hawks came into the mess except for the raccoon and the rat. Both of them stood leaning against the wall and occasionally wincing. "That we need to know."
Kayla escorted Jessica into the room. The black-feathered hawk had a hard time lifting her gaze. Murikeer and James brought blocks of wood for the two hawks to perch on and set them at the middle of the table around which most of the rest of them sat. Naomi brought them bowls of steaming tea and Jessica gratefully dipped her beak to sip. When she lifted her head, Rickkter crossed his arms and leaned forward across the end of the table nearest the wall. "So, it's destroyed, root, branch, everything?"
"All of it," Weyden confirmed with a nod. "Even the bulbs have been burnt up. There's nothing left this time."
"Neither Muri nor I can see any signs of it," Rick agreed with a grunt. "And Maud isn't a giraffe anymore which is another good sign. Who else was changed? I remember who Kuna is now. But who else? And how many were unwilling?"
"Only a few," Jessica admitted after taking another sip. "There was some human merchant I turned into a dog a few days ago. I never knew his name."
"What's happened to him?" Charles asked. He held the tip of his tail in one paw and rubbed the soft flesh between his fingers.
"I don't know," she said with a heavy sigh. A shudder passed through her wings. "If he's lucky he just turned back into a man and has time to get out of the Valley before the Curse grabs him for real."
"And if unlucky?" Rickkter pressed.
"Then my spell brought the Curse on him already and he's become a dog man."
"And he was a merchant?" Jessica nodded. Charles grimaced, lowering all of his whiskers for a moment before they twitched out to the side again. "If that is the case I will ask Julian to speak with him. He might be able to find him a job and help him get back on his... paws."
"That's probably the best we can do," Rickkter nodded in agreement. "Who else?"
It took Jessica nearly half an hour for Jessica to describe in detail all of those she had transformed and what had become of them as far as she knew. Most, like Maud, had come from those who had wanted to be transformed and so the worst they would suffer would be bitter disappointment at returning to their old forms. But only Kuna and the merchant had been changed against their will.
"I'm not sure what Kuna will do," Rickkter mused.
"Do you know him well?" Murikeer blinked his one eye. "I have never crossed his path, only heard what has been said about him."
"Not very well. Mostly by reputation. But if he threatens Jessica over this he'll be in for a nasty surprise."
"I did him wrong," Jessica said in a choked squawk. Weyden wrapped her in his wing. "I owe him something."
"Talk to the Duke about that," Dallar suggested. "You've already skipped two weeks worth of patrols and we miss you. I'm sure he'll be glad to extend your term of service to Metamor!"
Her eyes brightened a moment as she regarded the ram. She had joined the patrols as a field mage so that she could be close to Weyden. Two weeks ago her research had taken precedence and she had used the hyacinth's powers to convince the others that she didn't need to accompany them anymore. It would feel so good to do something so simple as duty again with her friends.
"Maybe there is something you can provide the mage guild. The hyacinth belonged to Yonson. It was already corrupted by Marzac," Murikeer noted by pointing to his claws in succession. "Hyacinths grow in abundance in the south, and none of them have caused what we saw here or what you saw last year. Perhaps there is a way to use a hyacinth to help those who do wish to change what the Curse has done to them without the forgetfulness or other evil consequences."
Jessica shook her head. "I don't know how to do that to a hyacinth. The one I planted was already prepared to act as an incunabulum."
"Baring that, could you still control the Curse like before?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Jessica shuddered, her feathers puffing up and resettling themselves.
Muri and Rickkter exchanged meaningful looks. "It's worth exploring, but it'll be a long time before we can be sure it would even work." Rickkter grimaced and shifted about on his paws. "It may have other consequences we don't know about yet. Best leave that aside for later. And if Kuna decides to cause problems, I will speak to him. Are you sure there's no one else?"
Weyden kept his wing wrapped about his wife's back. She seemed smaller than before, a thing collapsed in on itself. She lapped at the warm tea for several seconds before lifting her head to briefly look at the raccoon before her golden eyes descended to the table. "Lindsey, but I'm not sure what will happen to him. The only other that seems important is... Rhena! Oh my! I need to check on her!"
She stood up straight and cast her gaze about as if she expected to see this Rhena somewhere in the room with them. Her friends all looked at each other confused. Kayla asked, "Who is Rhena?"
"That's not her real name," Jessica admitted. "She asked to be turned into a young woman so she could better learn how women felt. I changed her at the end of March and since then she'd completely forgotten she'd ever been anything but what I made her. When I saw her two days ago the spell had begun to merge with her skunk curse. If I don't do something, she may be stuck as Rhena!"
"Who was she?" Charles asked with a frown. He leaned back and bumped his rear against one of the other tables and visibly winced.
"She used to be Berchem."
"Berchem!" James nearly shouted, both of his ears rising swiftly to their full height. "So that's where he went! He wanted to be a woman? I never would have thought that of him." In a quieter voice the donkey added, "Would serve him right getting stuck."
Jessica took another sip of the tea and then stepped off the perch. "I have to go find her... or him. If there is anything I can do to fix this, I have to do it. Please, let me go."
"That rain outside is going to become a storm very soon," Kayla pointed out. She reached a paw out to touch Jessica's wing but never quite reached her. "Are you sure want to risk it? So soon?"
The hawk nodded. "If I don't go now I may not reach her... him in time. I can't fix everyone else, but I can try to help him!"
Maud stepped to her other side and nodded, her dark hair falling in her face, something that had not happened the whole month she had been a giraffe. "Go find him and help him, Jessica. Is there anything we can give you for your journey? Where are you going?"
"Lyme Regis," Weyden said with a sigh. "Berchem's in Lyme Regis."
Jessica turned to her husband, eyes widening in surprise. "How did you know?"
"That's where we went two days ago and where I rested much of the day away." He encircled her in his wings again and nuzzled her cheek with his beak. "And I forgive you that, my love."
"Lyme Regis is a long way from here," Naomi pointed out. "Are you sure you can make it?"
"I have to for Berchem's sake. And no, Maud, there isn't anything more I need. The tea was enough to give me my strength back."
"And mine." All eyes turned toward the other hawk. He cracked his beak in a grin. "You didn't think I was going to let you risk this storm by yourself, did you?"
Jessica's heart swelled with gratitude and love for her husband; for a moment she was able to forget her shame.
After the first hour, Rhena felt her the pains in her body subside into a faint stiffness as if she had just risen after sleeping off an exerting day. The cloak did its job in keeping the rain off her back and out of her face. She kept her tail bundled beneath it as well and apart from a few droplets that she flicked from her whiskers now and again, the top half of her was mostly dry. Her legs however were soaked and cold. The water clung to her fur and made her feel as if she were a sponge. As if that wasn't bad enough, the constant downpour had finally turned the road to Metamor into a long stretch of mud. The slime coated her paws, got between her toes and claws, and ruined her riding trousers.
If she were Berchem again, she knew the mud would have been just one more nuisance in a day's work. But her body remained stubbornly female and kept reacting that way. It both annoyed and intrigued her. It made her wonder what would happen when she returned to being Berchem. How much of Rhena would remain?
That question troubled her for the next hour. The storm continued to strengthen. To the south the clouds became a wall of impenetrable darkness with flashes of light and angry rumbling. By the end of the second hour the rain pelted her cloak so firmly that she felt as if she were being pummeled by a murder of crows and nibbled by a mischief of rats. And while the horse was strong and managed to get through the mud patches, they were moving slower than she hoped; Metamor Keep was nowhere in sight.
Still, a part of her heart vacillated between the road ahead of her, and the life she had just left behind in Lyme Regis. For a short time she regretted leaving Master Renauld and his family. Their son had found her quite fetching and she had enjoyed the many stares he'd given her. And it was a far simpler life and less dangerous than the one Berchem led.
But such vacillation was always short-lived. She had been born Berchem and now that she remembered who she was, that was the life she knew she had to reclaim if she could. The only reason she was here now was because she had wanted to learn more about how women felt. She smiled even despite the misery of her body. This she had learned in greater abundance than she'd ever expected.
Even if she didn't want to admit it, she'd found Renauld's son quite handsome too. Another month and they'd probably have found themselves making a pretty pile in the hay. That thought alone made Rhena draw the cloak more tightly around herself and kick the horse's sides.
She had to get to Metamor!
The rain pounded on their wings but the two hawks pushed themselves as fast as they could. Their course followed the river to Metamor, but it would take them at least three hours to penetrate the storm and the winds before they could alight upon the Keep's mighty towers. There was little of missing Berchem along the road as the skunk would have an even harder time traveling from Lyme Regis where the storm would circle and pound as it ran against the narrowing gap in the mountains. Further, the hawks had the benefit of an hour with only a very light rain in which they were able to cover half the distance to Metamor.
But once the storm began in earnest, Weyden and Jessica were forced to take rests in the sheltering crags of the mountains flanking them on their right. She used a little power to try and keep them dry so they could navigate the skies, but with the hyacinth destroyed she felt a terrible weakness suffuse her. Weyden nudged her and sheltered her during their rests, and he never offered even a squawk of complaint as they battled the rain. In him she found her strength.
The storm continued to darken as they neared Metamor. Their wings ached, their chest labored for each breath, and the cold of the wind and the rain numbed their bones. When at long last they were able to take shelter in the belfry, lashed as they were and with the sky rumbling and flashing, they both collapsed behind one of the protecting walls and spent several minutes gasping for breath and drying their lathered wings and tails.
"The sun will set soon," Weyden said after regaining his breath. "It will be impossible to find Berchem after dark."
"I'm so tired," she mewled.
His wings laid atop her and his voice filled her with warmth. "Just a little bit further. We should follow the road now."
Jessica nodded and climbed back to her talons. She cast one glance at the bells and the place where once their enemies had bound the Censer of Yajakali. The spot was empty and slick now with rain. The bells were so heavy that even the wind did not disturb them in their metallic slumber. Not even a year ago those titanic events took place, and yet now there was nothing, not even an ominous presence, to give a hint of the terrors once done in that place. Jessica felt better thinking it.
The storm did not abate. They found the road heading south and the fork turning toward Lyme Regis only by dropping down to nearly the level of the trees. Here they were buffeted from side to side and nearly dashed into the swaying and cracking branches. Lightning blistered the ground a hundreds yards to the south The thunder smote them with such intensity that they had to flee to the earth to find any relief. There they crawled along on wings and claws until they could find the road again and attempt to fly a few feet above its muddy tracks.
Flying so low to the ground was difficult even in the best of conditions, requiring minute adjustments to their wings and frequent beating of the wings to keep them aloft. Now it was all they could do to keep from flying headfirst even into the felled stumps that lined the road. Jessica wept but would not let her husband fly faster than she. How could he be so much stronger than her now?
The misery in every sinew of her flesh seemed to burn her like a brand searing her flesh by the time they finally saw the drenched, cloaked figure leading a lame horse. The horse, a solid farm animal, was favoring his left foreleg. The cloaked figure whose cloak billowed behind her from a large tail, had one paw on the creature's neck to guide him through the mud and the rain. It was so dark and so terrible that she didn't even see the hawks until they nearly collapsed at her feet.
Weyden swelled to his full size, spreading his wings to cover his wife and to block the way forward. His beak screamed the words over the torrent, "Are you Berchem?"
The cloaked figure nodded, and he could see a black and white furred snout beneath the cowl. The skunk was clearly female; Jessica's spell had remained as she'd feared it would. "I'm trying to find Jessica!" the skunk screamed back.
"I am here," Jessica cried as she tried to grow in size. Weyden had to nudge her with his talons to help her stand. Once he righter her she was able to grow back to her human size. "Oh, Berchem, I'm so sorry!"
The skunk shook her head. "It's done. I... I don't think I'm going to change back am I?"
Jessica slumped against her husband and squawked, "I don't know. I'm sorry."
"That way," Weyden suggested, pointing toward the wood a short distance from the road. "We can get out of the rain."
Weyden helped his wife hop the twenty or so paces to the first sheltering boughs of oak and alder. Berchem led her horse who grunted with every other step. The ground was uneven and slick from the rain. The storm pushed through the woods even after they took another twenty steps within, but the roar was subdued and the rain didn't fall as heavily on their shoulders. Jessica gasped and through sheer need summoned a pair of witchlights and a bit of warmth. Weyden and Berchem arranged a few felled branched to provide them some extra shelter from the rain. Berchem then wrapped the horse's left foreleg in a fresh blanket and tossed the sopping wet blanket she'd already used aside.
Jessica collapsed in a heap and trembled. Weyden draped a wing over her and for the first time since they had begun to fly she was dry. Berchem flapped her cloak a few times before sitting down beneath their shelter and letting the cowl fall back to reveal her face. There was a sullen disappointment there, but the beginning flicker of resignation.
"Are you all right?" Berchem asked. "You look dreadful."
"We just flew from Lake Barnhardt," Weyden replied. "What happened to your horse?"
"He stepped on a loose stone in the mud and slipped a half hour ago. The nearest shelter is Euper and so I decided to bring him there." She undid the cloak and let it fall behind her. She wore green riding clothes with loose cut trousers and warm tunic. Weyden knew that this skunk had to be a man, but her bosom and manner suggested otherwise. "I have some bread Master Renauld gave me for the trip. Would you care for some?"
"Please," Weyden nodded.
Berchem threw the cloak over her shoulders and stepped back out into the rain to claim her satchel from the horse's flank. He nudged her with his snout which she patted before returning to the hawks. Jessica watched her while breathing as deeply as her aching muscles would let her. After depositing the sopping cloak on the ground behind her and just within the makeshift shelter that was already dripping in places, Berchem opened the satchel and began breaking the small loaves of sweet smelling bread. She passed a chunk to both of them while keeping a small portion for herself. "It isn't much, but it is all I have."
"Thank you," Jessica cawed, aching as she lifted the bread to her beak. She swallowed it in one gulp and felt some of her strength return. Even when she'd chased her friends after the Breckarin army had captured them she'd not felt this exhausted, and that chase had lasted two days! Why couldn't she bestir herself to do what she had braved the elements to do?
Berchem knelt on her knees and pulled her tail around to keep it out of the rain as she ate her morsel of bread. Her green eyes were cast to the ground before the hawks but she said nothing more until she had finished swallowing. A peal of thunder rippled the sky, but already they could tell that the worst of the storm was passing to the north. The rain continued its onslaught, but it was more the shaking of a man's fist than the beating they had endured on the way.
"You came to change me back," Berchem said softly, her voice tender.
Jessica shifted up so that she was standing. Weyden put his wing to her back to steady her. "I did. I will try." In a quieter voice she added, "If you want me to."
Berchem looked at her paws, turned them over twice, and then felt her face, chest, and knees. She sighed. "I can't go back to Master Renauld knowing what I know anymore. I can't go back to Glen Avery like this. I'll have to start my life over a second time if you can't. I... I don't want to do that but if I have to, then... then I will. Are you sure you can, Jessica? You look awful. I don't... I don't want you to get hurt. I'm so sorry."
Jessica stepped forward and extended her wing to embrace the skunk. She shifted forward on her knees and the two of them hugged. "I did this to you. I am sorry! I don't know if I can remove the spell but I will try. Are you ready?"
Berchem leaned back and fixed her golden eyes with her own. "Are you ready?"
She didn't know why, but she turned her head so that she could look at her husband. Weyden stood with his wings outstretched catching the rivulets of the downpour that pierced his thatch. He nodded his head and opened his beak in a comforting smile. "You can do this."
Jessica, buoyed by his confidence, turned back to Berchem and gestured for her to remain where she was. "You do make a lovely young woman. If this doesn't work I'll help you find a new place. For now, just stay like that and I will try my best."
The skunk stayed on her knees while Jessica willed the veins of magic to appear. To her relief, one of the major currents of magic that flowed through the nexus of Metamor followed the road, so there was a good deal of power for her to amplify what remained of her strength. Tightly wound into Berchem was the spell that Jessica had cast a month-and-a-half ago. It looked very similar to what she had seen two days before except for one notable difference; where once there had been a cord leading back to the hyacinth to provide power for the spell now there was nothing to keep the spell active except its connection to the Curse and to Berchem.
That connection was one that had grown in the time Berchem had lived as Rhena. Unlike any of her other victims, Berchem had been transformed long enough for that connection to gain sufficient strength to survive without the hyacinth. She had hoped to find a spell that was wavering and weak and that would break like glass when Jessica applied any force. The spell appeared to have suffered strain, but whatever damage the destruction of the hyacinth had wrought, it seemed to have healed itself.
Jessica touched the spell with her will in a few places to test its resiliency but could not find any purchase. The spell had wound tight against the Curse, so tight in fact that it was hard to say where one began and the other stopped. The skunk Curse, and that which made her a young woman were almost united.
She felt an urge to despair, a strangled defeat that left her empty. Turning back to her husband, she opened her beak in a silent cry. He hopped the two steps so that he could be at her side. His chest pressed against her back, and she could feel him breathing through her feathers. He nuzzled her neck with his beak.
Jessica returned her gaze to the skunk. Just then another flash of lightning illumined the forest and with it them. Brilliant veins of ice blue scattered across the spells like a million fireflies released from a bottle. All except for one little patch near the skunk's chest. Jessica saw the blank spot only for a moment before the flash subsided and the growl of thunder took its place. Drawing down one of the witchlights, she forced it to press against the skunk so that its petite magical substance touched Jessica's spell. Although not nearly as effective as the lightning, she could see the faint outlines of a place in her spell that had been damaged by the hyacinth's death.
Jessica bent her will on that spot, digging into the wounded contours of her own magic to find some thread with which to unravel the skunk's transformation. She found it easy to gouge at first because there was nothing left of the spell to resist her. But after her first few attacks she reached where the spell had managed to heal itself, and it resisted her with as much tenacity as the Curse itself had resisted the mages of Metamor for nearly the last decade.
Weyden's breath was slow and measured, comforting her and encouraging her. Berchem knelt without complaint, her paws on her knees, face hopeful but willing to accept whatever came next. Jessica knew the skunk would forgive her with ease if she were forced to remain Rhena to the end of her days. Nobody would blame her that she had tried. How much had she exerted herself in order to come even this far? Surely there was a time she just had to admit there was nothing more she could give.
She leaned back against her husband for a moment. He stepped forward to hold her, one of his talons brushing against her feet. He loved her. Weyden loved her enough to die for her. Used all of her strength? She hadn't even begun to exert herself!
Jessica renewed her her attack on the spell she'd crafted, digging her wing claws into its substance, tearing open that hole no matter how it tried to heal itself. The veins of magic flowing nearby gave magical strength, but it was a mere trickle compared to her husband's simple intake of breath. Her eyed glinted in the glow of the witchlights, while all around them the rain pounded the earth. A distant tolling of thunder rolled across the valley like the sound of war drums. All of it sounded with her against this Marzac-inspired dweomer.
Every mote, every nerve in her flesh seared with pain. She wanted to scream and find some place to hide, some far off vista to which she could fly and find refuge. But the spell remained before her, locked around Berchem with an almost palpable verve. Jessica leaned back for a moment into her husband's chest, and then she pushed forward into the pain and accepted it as her penance. She would! She would make this one thing right!
Jessica twisted her wingtips, crafting little spells to loosen the weave. Some bounced ineffectually off the extra curses, others appeared to work for a moment before the weaving tightened again. Her legs began to buckle and cramp, her bones felt as brittle as clay, and her heart beat so fast in her chest that she was sure she was breaking ribs. But she did not stop.
Berchem, who had knelt so quietly even with the whipping wind making the trees rattle and threatening to bring their makeshift thatch down onto their heads, gasped in agony and had to bend forward with all four paws on the ground to keep from falling over. Jessica ripped back with her wing claws, and the spell finally tore free with it. The Curse atop the skunk for a moment also came with her spell. Weyden gasped as the fur along Berchem's face and arms receded to reveal pink flesh beneath. And then with a clap of thunder her spell split from the Curse and disintegrated into the flow of magic.
The Curse snapped back into place and Berchem's fur returned as her body swelled and split the tunic and riding trousers she wore. The seams down the sides of each ripped apart as the young woman grew in stature into a familiar middle-aged man.
Jessica collapsed back against her husband, all of her limbs trembling with agony and vertigo. Weyden eased her against the tree, cradling her with one of his wings. His golden eyes, so sharp and predatory, were now soft and gentle as he nuzzled her neck with his beak. "You've done it, my love."
Berchem gasped for breath, looking over his arms and strong chest with wonder and obvious relief. He lifted the torn remnants of the green tunic and sighed, shaking his head. "So passes Rhena. She was better than me."
Weyden cast him a queer glance,. "I thought you wanted to change back."
"I did and I am glad of it. But Rhena... she showed me me more than I ever expected." The skunk crawled to Jessica's side and lowered his snout to the ground. "Jessica, I am in your debt. I offer you anything you wish of me."
Both of her witchlights danced over their heads, but neither provided much light anymore. She lacked the strength to maintain them; if they weren't so close to one of the rivers of magic they would have already disappeared. Jessica felt a drop of rain land on one of her wings and she flinched. "Could you... fix the thatch?"
Berchem lifted his face, gazed at the makeshift shelter, and laughed, his smile warm and bright. "Of course; give me a moment and I'll have it done." Gone was the disdain and disquiet. She could see in that face the joy she had witnessed in Rhena. Somehow, despite everything the hyacinth had made her do, she had actually done some good.
Weyden gently stroked her face with his beak even as his other wing spread over her to keep her sheltered. But already the rain was slackening, and the thunder and lightning receding to the north. The crashes were but distant peals now, and the hammer blows of rain were but a constant thrumming as of a loom. The storm was passing.
Jessica breathed deeply of the scent of wet leaves and earth, and of the heady aroma of her husband pressed so close, and even of the pungent fragrance of the skunk. The pain subsided in her as she felt herself giving in to the exhaustion. As the sleep embraced her, she could not help but feel a deep serenity. Her tongue moved one last time before the surcease of slumber came; "I love you."
"And I love you," was the last she heard before dreams of comfort whisked her away. She dreamed of their home, those comfortable rooms in Twin Hearths, and their makeshift nest with soft pillows and linen blankets. And there between her and Weyden's feet a bright oblong egg.
Epilogue
Unable to do anything to help the hawks, once they were all dressed, they accepted Christina's invitation to a real meal at her husband's tavern a short walk from the barracks. The tavern, which sported a kingfisher lifting a tankard to its beak with its toes, was modest in comparison to the Deaf Mule or the other taverns in Keeptowne, but it was clean, with sweet smelling candles and lanterns that cast a warm light in almost every corner, sturdy long tables with enough space between each to keep tails from being stepped on, and plenty of thick, frothing ale, smoked fish, and savory bread to sate all their appetites.
Murikeer was not content to trust that Weyden would keep Jessica safe, and so had tied a very small tracking spell to his wings as they made ready to leave. So even as he ate and drank, enjoying the company of his friends, and the bemused glances that Christina gave them all when she served them their drinks, he could feel along that spell through the discomfort it brought him to know how the hawks were doing.
With the storm overhead there was nowhere for him or the others to go so they relaxed in the tavern telling stories, eating, drinking, and doing their best not to talk about their recent three hours of childhood. Murikeer enjoyed watching his friends relax and enjoy themselves, even if it wasn't until the storm grew its worst over the lake, pounding the tavern roof and flashing in the narrow windows that he was able to relax.
He could feel through his little spell Weyden's relief. He wasn't sure where the hawks were beyond their general direction, but wherever it was they must be safe. By that hour is was late and he knew that they would have to either accept Naomi's offer of a place in the barracks to sleep or find a room for himself. Lester, Christina's husband, boasted about the half-dozen rooms he had available and the skunk mage was leaning toward seeing if they were as comfortable as the leopard claimed.
A familiar figure settled in next to him with a fresh tankard of ale. The raccoon grinned and tipped the narrow rim to his snout and let the froth wash across his tongue. "Ah," he said between lapping the brew from his whiskers, "a very satisfying way to end the day. It is good to work together again, is it not, Muri?"
"We didn't do much," Muri said with a shrug. "But at least the hawks are safe now."
"I know," Rickkter grinned, his striped tail flicking upward and almost landing on the bench. "Tracking spells are wonderful things."
"I didn't see yours," the skunk admitted with a nod of his head. "You are getting better at that, master." The last he added with a chortle. Rickkter had long since recognized Murikeer's mastery in magic and was content to be friend rather than tutor and mentor.
"Who says I cast my own?"
The raccoon's snout broke into another smile as he glanced across several
tables to where Charles and James the donkey were enjoying their evening
meal. He then sipped his ale again. "I trust things are still
well with you and Kozaithy?"
"They are. She's enjoying the country far more than the Keep."
"Have you taken on any more students, besides her and Lady Kimberly?"
"Not as of yet. Kozaithy still summons more smoke than flame, but Kimberly is proving herself capable." Murikeer nodded and wrapped his paw about the mazer of half drunk ale sitting on the table in front of him. "Kimberly is more skilled with magic than I had first suspected, but it will be many years yet before I teach her anything more dangerous than lighting candles." He smiled fondly remembering their last session a few days ago. "She says she hopes that I would teach her children if any of them show any talent. She was dancing a witchlight around and letting her children try and catch it. That was... a true wonder."
The raccoon's eyes grew distant and in them the skunk saw the hint of a pleasant memory. But the moment passed with a blink and Rickkter's gaze returned to him. "Do you recall, when I first took you on as an apprentice, why I was reluctant to do so? The welfare of the student; this is an obligation a master possesses by virtue of being master." He nodded toward the rat. "She is your obligation, same as you were mine."
"I know that," Muri replied with a frown. "Why are you..." he followed the raccoon's gaze and saw the table where Charles and James were attempting to drink with their arms intertwined. "So it's about him."
"He's the last of the Marzac party still here in the valley. And he is the last of them to manifest it. There is no question of if he will, only when he turns toward that evil." Rickkter lifted his mazer to his snout but did not drink. "And when that happens, and it will happen, I think the best person to save him will be Lady Kimberly. Or perhaps his children. But at the same time, they will be in greater danger than the rest of us." He narrowed his eyes and fixed Muri with a stern gaze. "You need to make sure she's prepared for it."
He took a deep breath and licked the back of his fangs. "Charles has told her about Marzac and she knows what happened to James. She's not stupid. She knows what it means for Charles."
"Knowing and admitting out loud are two different things."
"As you say," Muri conceded though in his heart he hoped that there would still be some way yet for Charles to avoid the corruption. "Why do you say she could best help him?"
"It seems to be the one weakness of Marzac – the only weakness that I can think of. Think back on the last times its arisen, those who turned the battle against it. This time Jessica had Weyden. Before that, James had Baerle, and Kayla had me. When it comes for Charles, Kimberly, or perhaps one of his children, stand the greatest chance of turning him away from it."
"You were also its target. Kayla tried to destroy you with it. Same for Jessica." He sighed heavily, his tail lashing about his legs. "And you're also thinking the same for Charles."
"It fits the pattern. We've dealt with it three times; we've beaten it three times. We know this, and worst of all, it knows this. I fear it may try something different this time. Thankfully Charles' power is not as... far reaching as Jessica's is. Whatever happens will be... personal."
Murikeer sipped at his ale and then licked his whiskers with a grimace. "Now even mere hours ago we defeat this thing and here we sit worrying and growing paranoid about the next time."
"Because when facing the inevitable, there's often little else one can do." Rickkter swirled his own drink and took a sip. "A last thing; Marzac seems to need an anchor in this world. To my knowledge Charles does not have any artifacts that could talk to him. Kayla had the swords, James the bell, and Jessica the hyacinth. To beat this, we need to figure out what Charles has. It may already be twisting his mind and we just haven't seen it."
"I cannot think of anything myself," Muri conceded. "I will be sure to speak with Kimberly tomorrow. She is due for another lesson anyway. But Rick, this is going to upset her very deeply."
"Such is Marzac," Rickkter took a long swill of ale and sloshed it between his fangs before swallowing. A little dribbled out either side of his jowls and he wiped them on his sleeve. "And you know what... even with all this, I'm still pissed that I didn't get to go with them into that hell!"
Murikeer managed a laugh. But his eye kept straying to the rat a few tables away. What evil would Marzac seek through him? He tipped the mazer to his snout and drank. He would not sleep well tonight.
Mother Wilfrida, unable to sleep, waddled along the makeshift convent still under construction. The storm had passed Metamor a few hours ago, but still her mind could not settle itself. The mallard knew that something must be amiss for her to find it so hard to take her sleep. In a couple of hours she and the other sisters would rise for the early morning prayers before they began a new day of cleaning, prayer, and tending the poor of Metamor.
She always trusted Eli had a reason to keep her from sleeping on nights like this. She kept her prayer beads in one wing arm and counted her Hail Yanlins with expectancy, asking that most holy of women what it might be but she knew the answer would only come when it was ready.
After seven decades the answer arrived. There was a timorous knock on the convent door. Curious, the mallard waddled over and eased the door open. Standing before her in torn trousers and a grease stained linen shirt was an animal child. She did not recognize the species, but he had a long, thick tail jutting out behind him with a black tip, a flat head with large eyes, round ears, and black paws for hands. In fact, as she looked at him she wondered if perhaps he was more beast than child.
"What may I do for you, child?"
The creature ducked his head once as if gathering courage, and then looked at her bill. "Mother, I... I need your help. You're the only one I can think of who can help."
"What is it you need help with little one?"
His face twisted in a way that she had learned in her five months here at Metamor was an embarrassed grimace. "There's... um.... there's a bunch.... a bunch of orphans, Mother. A bunch of orphans." He nodded and slapped his tail against the wet stones. "A bunch of orphans who need help. We've been stealing food and other things to live. We need your help."
She blinked, trying to decide whether this fellow was a child or not. His size and something in his diffidence suggested a child, but not the way he spoke. "Are you an orphan too?"
"I..." he lowered his head and rubbed one foot over the other. "I am, Mother. But... not the same as the others. Please help me help the rest. They need mothers and fathers to care for them and teach them right."
Wilfrida bent down, pushing the door open all the way. "We will certainly help them. And you. Do you need a mother and father too?" She wasn't sure what she suspected, but she would find out.
A strange wistfulness came to his face and then he shook his head. "I just need to help them, Mother. And prayers.... I never much paid attention to that when I really was a child."
The nun extended a wing and waddled forward a step. "What is your name, little one?"
He looked up at her and sighed, a tear dripping down one cheek. "Kuna." He took a step back. "I have to go or they'll miss me. I'll be back soon. Thank you, Mother!"
She tried to stop him but the little fellow dropped to all fours and scampered down the road and out of sight. Wilfrida stood at the doorway for several seconds before she admitted that he wasn't coming back. She eased the door closed and counted off another few decades for all of the orphans of Metamor.