March 10, 708 CR
It took almost an hour to manage the last minute arrangements, but by mid-morning Charles, Baerle, Angus, and James departed the Glen. The sun was hidden behind thick clouds that promised snow, if not for the Glen, at least for the mountains. Their breath misted in the air before them as they bundled tightly in their woolen tunics and cloaks. The dimness to the morning leached all color from their fur, their belongings, and the woods on every side.
They rode together in a large wagon drawn by a team of four horses with a stripped donkey-like horse holding the reins. Their climbing gear rested between them, as well as the packs with the delicate charms Burris had created. Both driver and the four horses were all Keepers, part of a larger family of equines who all lived at the Glen. They were not family in the conventional sense, but there was much in Metamor Valley that could not make that claim. Until the quarantine, they had taken turns carrying goods back and forth from the Keep to Hareford, the Glen, and even Lake Barnhardt. Now they volunteered to help Charles and his friends reach the mountains with whatever speed they could provide.
Charles had spent the last two weeks in the saddle and had thought he'd be grateful for the chance to rest his legs and hips. Despite stretching his legs and tail in the wagon bed, his eyes kept turning to the four horses pulling that wagon and he yearned to find a saddle and climb on their backs. Maybe Sir Saulius was making a knight of him after all. He did his best not to dwell on that unsettling thought.
The zebra, a capable warrior when called upon for patrol named Lamarck, chatted with James for a little while, suggesting in an off-hand way that he should consider joining their herd. Judging from the way his friend rolled his eyes at each veiled hint, it was something that he'd heard before and said no to each time. Angus reminded the zebra twice that he needed to keep his voice down while they rode. The second time the badger growled. He never needed to speak up again.
Baerle sat quietly the entire time, her eyes ever on the woods around them. She kept her back to the middle of the wagon, turning her ears this way and that as she listened to the birdsong filling the air. She smiled politely to her friends, but did not let her eyes linger on any of them fore more than a moment.
By noon they reached the East-West road that led from Hareford. The clouds showed no sign of abating, and if anything, were thicker than before. The shadowless roads stretched in either direction through tall trees whose branches overhung a somber gloom. Angus asked Charles briefly if anything were different from when he'd been this way two days ago, but the rat saw nothing out of place. It didn't even look as if soldiers from Hareford had been this way since Dupré had come here four days ago.
They turned up the western road that rose quickly along a slope stretching out from the mountains. After an hour the trees began to thin out and they could see down into the valley at their left. The ground sloped away, hugged by pine and fir, except in the barren crater where only a few saplings bravely stood. Charles gazed at that cracked lacuna in the earth and marveled at the power of a single small stone falling from the Heavens. How he wished he could have been at the Glen to feel it shake the earth. At Metamor he'd only had to contend with a stack of fresh parchment spilling across the floor.
The day warmed only slightly as they continued their ride. The clop of four sets of hooves was loud enough that even in this remote corner of the valley there was no wildlife to be seen. And despite speaking more quietly, Charles could see that Lamarck's ever playful manner was beginning to rankle his donkey friend. James had one hand gripping his pack, thick fingers digging deeper and deeper into the leather, while his tail kept smacking against the side of the wagon. Once a stand of trees blocked the crater from view, the rat decided he couldn't wait any longer.
"Do you mind if I climb up here?" he asked the zebra who blinked in surprise. Charles didn't wait for an answer as he stepped around James and positioned himself on the buckboard with his paws resting on the railing between him and the team of Glenners pulling them.
Lamarck finally began to nod, his words confused but polite. "Oh, sure... you, wait... be careful!"
Charles couldn't content himself with sitting next to the zebra. Even as the driver tried to grab him and pull him back, the rat scurried up onto the front of the wagon, and deftly climbed onto the back of the pinto closest to him. The horse swung his head back in surprise at having a rider, stretched out his lips in query once, and then returned his attention to the road ahead. Charles spread his legs wide so that he straddled the pinto bareback and laughed lightly as he realized with a wince how much smaller his pony Malicon was.
"What are you doing?" the zebra exclaimed with a gasp.
"Trying to get comfortable," Charles replied. "Your friend doesn't mind." He patted the pinto on the neck as if he were a real horse and chuckled. "Derrick right?"
The pinto nodded and snorted. Charles smiled and glanced back at the zebra who continued to gape. While he'd distracted the zebra, James had slid all the way to the back of the wagon near to Baerle. "So, how often do you pull the wagon?"
Lamarck blubbered for several seconds before he could find an answer.
The remainder of the trip up the rocky slope proceeded with little conversation. None of the Polygamites had come this way before so their eyes roved from side to side as they mounted the hard packed earth. The wagon wheels bounced across loose stones but otherwise had no difficulty. An older pine had collapsed across a portion of the road in one of the last stretches where the woods framed them on either side, and Charles was quick to slip from Derrick's back so he could clear their path; they saw no other obstructions along the way.
Charles decided against riding Derrick the rest of the way up. His purpose in getting the zebra Lamarck to leave James alone was accomplished and the horse's back was just too wide for his legs. If he wanted to navigate treacherous mountain paths he should avoid needlessly straining his muscles. So he sat next to the zebra and kept a wary eye on the road and slopes ahead.
They reached the Gateway after only another hour and he smiled faintly as he saw the stand of rocks rising up from the otherwise level ground that wound between the peaks before them. Derrick and the other horses didn't need to be told to stop; everyone knew this was the Gateway.
"All right," Angus said as he climbed out of the wagon. "James, hand me the gear. This is where we part ways."
James helped the badger get all of their things out of the wagon while Charles helped Lamarck unhitch the horses from the wagon to let them each stretch. Lamarck handed each of the four equines a robe to gird themselves with as they shifted back into a more human stance. They stretched and walked around the upthrust granite block, their eyes taking in the vista to the south with gaping jaws and perked ears. Baerle pulled her fur-lined cloak more closely around her shoulders and neck as she quietly checked the remnants of snow that clustered in shadowed corners.
After they had all of the packs removed from the wagon, Angus waved everyone closer. "Now, the air is thinner up here, so don't push yourselves. We're going to take it very easy today and we're going to find shelter well before the sun sets. I know the paths, I helped Burris erect the talismans. There's two dozen and it'll take us at least a week to cover them all and get back home."
Charles gnawed on his chewstick furiously, heart twinging with the thought of not seeing his family, even if only in illusion, for so long a time.
"Do you want us to be waiting for you in a week?" Derrick asked as he kept the cloak firmly wrapped around his middle.
"If you would be so kind, aye," Angus replied. The badger stood and gave the stallion a firm pat on the shoulder, despite being half a head shorter than the horse. "Thank you for bringing us here. Now get home safely. It still looks like it might snow again."
Derrick and the other horses nodded. "We'll be here. Artela keep you safe." The five equines disappeared around the upthrust rock and a moment later they heard the familiar sound of even more hooves clopping against the exposed rock and hard-packed dirt. Angus opened his satchel and after some searching withdrew an elk-skin map that he stretched out between them. Depictions of various peaks and scrawling lines connecting them were inked into the hide. Little diamond marks were placed around the peaks in a wide swath. Charles stared at the picture but didn't recognize anything familiar.
"We're here," Angus pointed to the southeastern corner. "Off south is the Glen, and off that way is Hareford. This section here," he spun one claw in a wide circle over the right-most edge of the map, "is the Gateway, the highland meadow, and the old watchtower. There used to be a sheltered path from here into the Giantdowns, but earthquakes have made it too dangerous even for Lutins to try. Even so, at the northern edge of the meadow we've placed one of the talismans. That is where we'll be headed first. From there we proceed west. We should get a good view of the Sea of Souls, but the path leads back into mountains where we should be safe from freezing airs coming off the lake."
He drew his claw along one of the lines at the top of the map, and then began to circle back down toward the bottom. Charles could see that this path took them past all of the diamond symbols."We'll be making a long circuit through the mountains this way. This covers the passes that we know Baron Calephas used two years ago, and a few others that Lutins could use if they dared risk the heights. It is very difficult to reach some of these passes, which is why we don't patrol them, but I know each of you can manage."
They were distracted momentarily by the Polygamites coming back around the stone. Four steeds plodded along on all fours, while Derrick walked behind them now adorned with Lamarck's old clothes. The zebra was the first secured to the rigging nearest to where Derrick would soon be sitting on the wagon. The pinto waved to them once before securing his remaining brothers and sisters in the rigging for the return trip. James glanced at them and snorted almost contemptuously. Charles gave him a curious glance, and the donkey only shrugged and muttered, "I'll never let myself be treated like a common animal. Never again."
"Say no more," Charles bade him with one paw as he noted a few equine ears flick in their direction. He turned to the badger and asked, "What order shall we take?"
"I want Baerle to lead us. She's been on some of these paths before. Will that do for you?"
The opossum nodded and in her first words in hours said, "Aye, I can lead us on the mountains." She pulled her pack close to her knees as she crouched over the map. "I have never been this far into them," she gestured at the western edge of the map. "Just let me know if there's anything I need to watch out for."
"I will," Angus agreed with a faint smile. "After you, I want Charles, then James. I will keep watch over the rear."
"Why Charles and then me?" James asked as his ears lay back against his spiked mane.
"You two are going to be the anchors. Also, you can see over Charles's head. That way the path is clear for all of us."
"Except you," James pointed out with a grunt.
"I know it already," the badger laughed faintly. "We'll stay close together, but I want us to see where we are going at all times. Now get your gear. You'll need the ice shoes by the time we find the first talisman."
Derrick waved one more time as he and his herdmates led the wagon back down the road to the east. They came by close enough that Charles was able to pat the zebra on the neck; he was rewarded with a tail swat to the back of his head. He chuckled under his breath and then hoisted his pack onto his shoulders, toes spreading to feel the dirt, rocks, and lichen coating them.
As the weight of the shoulder straps settled against his flesh, he felt a strange loneliness come over him. Ever since the Wind Children had planted the vine in his back over six months ago, not a day had gone by when he hadn't allowed the vine to nourish in his flesh. It's tender strength and devotion had kept him company through even the worst moments in that time. But now that they were going into the freezing depths, he'd thought it best to leave it behind and so that morning he'd fixed it within the stones of the hearth in his bedroom; it would bloom well in the warmth there, and be a pleasant welcome if by some miracle Kimberly and the children were allowed to return home while he was still in the mountains.
Still, he sighed for its absence and shifted the pack until it was comfortable. He glanced at the pass between the two mounts into which he had ventured a short distance with the ram and Sir Saulius only a few days before. "Is there anything more before we begin?"
Angus returned the map to his satchel and then secured it against his hip. "Just be careful. We probably won't run into any Lutins, but keep your weapons ready just in case." So saying, the badger patted the heavy blade between his shoulders and his pack.
"Will do," Charles checked to make sure that his Sondeshike was in easy reach within his fur-lined cloak, and then followed after the opossum into the pass. He could hear James's hooves crunching the loose rock behind him as they passed into the cool shadow of the mounts.
Jessica's wing tips cradled the stalk lined with small purple cups radiating in every direction. Her golden eyes bored through the magical conduits that passed into each of those apertures only to be collected in fragrant pools that she could bind to any spell she wished. Even in the still grip of winter that teased the valley, a flower such as this would thrive because it was more than a flower.
It was a hyacinth; one specially treated in the ways she had learned by studying the arts of the Marquis, Agathe, and the rest of their enemies. It had grown more quickly than she had expected, and already it was proving an able solution to the challenge of keeping a Keeper transformed by an extra curse and in a way that they desired.
Normally Jessica tended the plant that grew in a rooftop garden on top of the barracks where her husband-to-be and his friends were stationed in Lake Barnhardt with tenderness and joyful care. But the flippant remark that Charles and Misha had shared the other day had unsettled her and so now she studied her flower more intently. Had she made a mistake in her casting? She had never intended the hyacinth to cast a shroud of oblivion over the Valley as Yonson's had done. She had only meant the forgetfulness to protect the hyacinth itself to keep her friends from destroying it out of fear.
But if the hyacinth was making them forget then she needed to do something about it. Jessica would not allow the hyacinth to bring anguish to Metamor; it was to be used to help master the Curses and to that it must restrict itself.
And so, with her mind fresh from a good night's sleep and after a studious review of her notes on the hyacinth, Jessica touched it with her magic, feeling the way the weaves flowed and cascaded one over another like water across rocks in a forest brook. There were several layers of magic that intertwined, and like any weave it was important not to tangle them further. Very gingerly Jessica lifted each strand of magic, peering more deeply within the cups.
Jessica gently let the strands back down as she saw a familiar figure flying toward the town from the north. She would have to continue her study another time; the woodpecker never left the Glen unless it was very important. Once she had returned the hyacinth to its proper state, she jumped into the air and beat her wings to go and meet the colorful bird.
On seeing her approach, Burris angled toward the eastern shore of the lake where broad tracts of land had been cleared to support pastureland for sheep as well as homes for the fishermen and shepherds. Jessica landed and perched on an unlit lamp with crozier while she waited for the woodpecker.
Burris settled on the ground a short distance from the hawk and stretched into a more human shape. Jessica joined him there and also took on her tallest size. Her screeching voice carried well her anxious concern. "Is everything all right, Burris?"
The woodpecker preened his black chest feathers a moment and then shook his head and wings. "I'm afraid not. One of the Glenners, Berchem our chief archer, has been struck by a malady that seems magical in origin. I've come to ask for your help."
"Of course I will come," Jessica agreed readily. If Burris could not discern the malady's cause, then it must be very serious indeed. "I need to let Captain Dallar know where I will be and then I will fly back with you."
Burris spread his wings behind him, allowing the wind to gently brush through his feathers. "I shall wait here and enjoy this breeze. No need for you to land, just fly overhead and I'll join you."
Jessica bobbed her head, shrank, and took off for the barracks. The ram would understand, as would Weyden. But her inspection of the hyacinth would have to wait. She must remember to leave herself a note so she could resume it when she got back.
The passage through the mountains that Charles had called the Gateway opened after an hour's hike through snow and rock to a broad meadow of tough short grasses and lichen coated rocks of granite, feldspar, and mica. The ground sloped downward gently to the north and east until it met the mountains that framed the Giant's Dike. The northern slope ended in a copse of spruce, larch, and tamarack against which a large defile spilled between the nearest peaks. The faint suggestion of an old road continued down the meadow just south of the small forest before disappearing beneath the snowy slopes.
Along this road they continued as they moved through the meadow. The air was thinner and even after only an hour of hiking all of them felt tired but they took only one break along their route, and that for only a few minutes. Angus promised them that they would quickly adjust; James well remembered how long it had taken before he'd felt comfortable in the crossing of the Barrier Range last summer; it had taken nearly a week of rough travel before the donkey was able to shed the out-of-breath sensation that had clung to him ever since they'd lost sight of Metamor.
It wasn't the shortness of breath that bothered James. It wasn't even so much that he felt sure Angus was keeping an skeptical eye on him just waiting for one of his hooves to slip on a rock like the calumnious skunk. What kept his teeth grinding together as his nostrils flared for sweet air, was that Charles strode between him and Baerle. He could see clearly over the rat, but he could come no closer to the opossum than his erstwhile friend. The bell throbbed at his back in rhythm to his indignation when it swelled, and then faded into sonorous silence when the cool air and reason stilled his wrath.
The road turned sharply to the east in the middle of the meadow not too far from the edge of the wood. The rocky grasses were crisscrossed with little trickling streams of snow-melt and once they left the harder road, the ground sucked at his hooves with each step. James flexed his fingers and turned his ears from side to side, one eye watching the woods and the other looking past the rat to Baerle.
The opossum walked confidently across the mire toward the mountain directly ahead of them. Beyond the woods to the northeast James could see the defile where the earthquake had sealed off any access to the Giantdowns, and he was grateful that it did not appear they would be journeying that way. With so many stones about, Charles would be far too powerful to strike against.
Mountain winds chilled them so that each of them pulled their fur-lined cloaks tight as they walked. The squelching, almost sucking sound as James pulled his hooves out of the damp muck that Spring was bringing to the meadow felt like a thousand laughing voices tumbling one over another in their ravenous will to be the one closest to the object of their scorn. His fetlocks would be a tangled mess of knotted slime before they reached the first talisman. James's lips quivered in irritation, but he would not let this peat slow him. He kept pace with the rat no matter how vile the ground became.
Baerle led them past the copse and up the northern mountain along a narrow track suited better to goats than to Keepers. They quickly ascended, rising well above the meadow after only a few minutes. The rock was slick but the ledge was just wide enough that none of them had any difficulty in finding purchase. Though the sky was clotted with thick, gray clouds, the face they climbed was normally in the sun and so there was little ice or snow left, though James could see both on the upper slopes of the peak.
Charles was trailing his toes through the stone much as he had done in the Barrier Range. James felt the bell tremble uncertainly as the rat suddenly stopped and nodded. "I can feel something different up ahead."
"That would be the talisman," Angus called from behind the donkey in a low voice. "It should be just ahead around the cleft."
The cleft reminded James of the crack in his bell, rising up along the side of the mountain on their right. Everything within was dark and shadowed. James felt his heart tighten as Baerle reached the lip and disappeared from view. His heart relaxed a moment later when she waved a hand-signal back around the edge of the cleft.
"James, hold when you get to the cleft. There's not much room within," Angus cautioned as they approached. James felt his eyes widened and his lips quiver as he saw the rat follow Baerle within. He took his next step a little more quickly than he should, but he managed to keep his balance even as he marshaled his temper again.
When the donkey reached the cleft he saw what Angus said was true. A small alcove was fitted between the rock, and on a small pedestal a five-leaved wooden marker stood. The design was simple, the grain was finely polished, and the quality as if it had just been cut. The ground beneath was narrow but Baerle and Charles could stand almost comfortably next to one another. James tightened his grip on the stone lip, the sharp edges digging into the flesh of his palm.
Charles dug one of the pouches that Burris had given them from his pack, and handed it to Baerle. The opossum's fingers gently laid over the rats, their eyes briefly meeting, as she took the pouch from him.
On the Future! - how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
James glowered at the rat. There could be no doubt that Charles had lied to him about the opossum. They only expressed their intimacy when they didn't think they were being watched.
His eyes bored into the rat's back as both Charles and Baerle took the contents of the pouch, a dark paste like substance, and spread it over the leaves. They rubbed the salve with the grain, and the wood took on the luster of cherry, glowing briefly a vibrant red before fading away. A hint of foul odor was in the air, but it also quickly dissipated. It took only a few minutes for the paste to be applied, and then Charles secured the pouch and returned it to his pack.
"Okay, we're done here," Charles said, smiling around his incisors first to Baerle, and then to James. The donkey nodded and quickly pulled himself back around the cleft to keep the rat from grasping his expression.
"The first one's done," James told Angus.
The badger nodded and carefully turned himself back around on the narrow path. "Then it's time to really head into the mountains." He gestured to what looked like a passage between the two peaks framing the western side of the meadow. "That's where were headed now."
James noted the passage that rose up beyond the trees, still choked with snow and ice on every slope but those too sheer for anything to cling to. The bell throbbed against his back. Somewhere out there in the maze of snow-capped peaks Charles would have his accident. James smiled as he followed the badger back down the ridge.
It was already mid-afternoon by the time Jessica and Burris returned to Glen Avery. Kevin the sparrow flew up to welcome them and in his chirping voice informed them that everyone was waiting for them outside Berchem's burrow. Jessica was glad to see her fellow bird and inquired after his health and his family's as they continued to glide through the mighty redwoods down to Glen commons. She was delighted to learn that all of them were well, even if anxious about the plague and the poor skunk.
Everyone turned out to be Lord Avery, Alldis the master hunter, an arctic fox, and a vole dressed as Glen scouts. The deer saw them first, and pointed to the trio of birds as they swooped down through the air to settle in the glade just opposite the nearest tree. They hopped across heavy roots and were welcomed by Lord Avery. "It is so good to see you, Jessica," the squirrel said with an expansive sigh as he spread his arms in welcome. "I trust that all is well with you and your betrothed?"
"Well enough," Jessica replied with a bob of her head. "A little frustrated that our plans for marriage keep being postponed, but patience only makes the love stronger."
"Indeed!" The squirrel agreed with a faint laugh, even as the deer nodded his head in agreement. The fox and vole weren't as convinced. "Jo is with him now. We'll be waiting out here for you."
Kevin turned to Jessica and shrugged his wings. "And I have to get back to patrol duty. I know you can help him."
"I'll do my best." Jessica cracked her beak in an avian smile and then with Burris, hopped toward the slanted doorway. She shrank to a smaller form to make it easier to get down the wooden steps, but resumed her full size when she reached the wooden floor of Berchem's burrow. And burrow was a very apt word to use to describe it. The wooden interior was smoothed and beveled to provide good lighting, warmth, and enough storage space for a single man who needed very few things. A fire bloomed in the hearth, and a cervine doe bent over this and a steeping kettle while the vixen healer knelt beside the skunk who was laying in bed with his eyes closed.
"Jo," Burris announced as the door was shut behind them, "this is Jessica. She's here to help. Jessica, this is Jo the Glen's Healer, and Erica her assistant."
Jo smiled to the hawk and nodded her narrow snout. "I've heard good things about you," Jo said as she gestured for her to come closer. "Burris says you can help us heal Berchem. I've tried several different broths, but all I seem to do is keep his pain away for a few hours." She scooted out of the way to give Jessica room.
"I don't know what I can do, but I will try. If there's anything magical about his malady, I will be able to help." Jessica glanced down at the skunk and then added in a softer voice, "I hope."
"You better," Berchem muttered through clenched teeth. "The ringing is coming back."
"Already?" Jo asked in exasperation. "I gave you a fresh batch of broth two hours ago!"
The skunk opened his eyes and glared at the vixen. "Yeah, well, it's coming back." His dark orbs lifted toward the hawk and he said, "I remember you. You helped us four years ago when the rock fell from the sky. Did your feathers turn black or am I going blind too?"
"They have," Jessica admitted with a quick blink. "My feathers, that is. Burris explained to me what has been happening to you. I am going to determine what magic was involved. You won't feel anything... else."
Berchem grunted but said nothing more. Jesscia closed her eyes for a moment and centered her thoughts. The gentle flow of magic bristled vivaciously all around her and when she opened her eyes it blossomed with brilliant blues and greens like a frothy river emptying into the sea. The currents flowed and ebbed through the burrow, gently touching each of the walls which glimmered like burnished bronze. Burris's spells that had shaped the skunk's home were clear to her eyes, and yet subtle and strong, blending with the weave of the wood in a way that only a master of his craft could have fashioned. Jessica admired his skill knowing that she would never match the woodpecker in shaping trees.
The hawk turned her attention to Berchem who had curled himself up again beneath the quilts. The black smear of the Curse was always an impediment to detecting magical enchantments on her fellow Metamorians. The most trivial of cantrips shone like beacon lights on a dark night and were simplicity itself to remove. But if she were facing anything like that, Burris would have found it and removed it himself. She needed to dig deeper to see what lay hidden beneath the Curse.
Grateful that she had spent so much time in the last month researching the Curses and trying to shape them as the Marquis had to Lindsey, Jessica discovered that she could, with a little effort and concentration, force the Curse to move out of her way as she examined the skunk. The black agglomeration of magics they knew as the Curse did not remove itself from Berchem so much as shift around him at her command. It was enough for her to see the the way the flow of magic moved through his body and interacted with his essence.
She recalled a time that Lothanasa Raven and Father Hough had engaged in a cordial debate about the nature of the soul; of concern was whether the essence that magicians like Jessica saw in each of them was the manifestation of the spiritual soul. They used terms like subsistence, immanence, and transcendence that had left her very confused and grateful that she had not chosen to become an acolyte in the Temple. Whatever the exact properties and substance of the essence in this skunk, she knew it to be the pathway through which the magical energies of the world interacted with each and every living thing. And no matter how gifted or clever the spell cast, there was always some residue, some disturbance in that essence when a person suffered from a magical malady.
It took her more time and more effort to find it than she had expected. Most of his body showed only the usual signs of stress that accompanied prolonged pain and she did what little she could to sooth each of his members. But in the center of his brain, she found that the flows of magic began to turn and twist, until they came to a knot wound tightly together between his ears. The cords of magic bound in that knot did not leave his mind, allowing the others that flowed through him to ease together as they left his body.
Jessica reached out for the knot, gently pulling on the strands, but though she could grasp them, she could not move them. And each time she touched them, she could see Berchem tremble anew and whimper under his breath.
She made one last check over Berchem and around him on the bedside, but could find no other evidence of spells. Jessica sighed and allowed the magical energies to fade back into invisibility. Color and definition returned to the real world, and to her surprise, she sagged where she stood. Burris pressed a wing against her back and she straightened. "Are you all right?" the woodpecker asked after she took a calming breath.
"Aye, that just took more out of me than I expected." She shook her head and stretched her wings, all eyes turned to her. "There is something twisted right between his ears. Like a knot wound very tightly, I couldn't even tug on the cords without causing him pain."
"It started ringing louder," Berchem muttered between clenched teeth.
"I've got another batch of broth for you," Jo shushed him, though the worry was clear in her voice.
"Could you see what caused it?" Burris asked.
She shook her head. "Not yet. It's going to take more time, but I'm confidant I'll figure it out."
The woodpecker bobbed his head, long beak neatly piercing the air. "Good. I will tell his grace and then return to aid you in whatever way I can."
Jo poured a bowl full of steaming, pungent broth and nodded, her tail flicking behind her, "And we will leave this broth with you, and then return in a few hours to check on him." She lowered her eyes as she forced a spoonful into the skunk's throat. "We don't want to be in your way."
"Thank you all," Jessica nodded and then crouched a little lower. "Now, I will begin again. Let's see what else there is to discover here." She closed her eyes and willed all the distractions of the world away. Only the magic would she see. And study.
Even though they had not even spent half the day walking through the mountains, Baerle's paws, calves, and thighs were all sore. She didn't normally wear boots of any kind, but with many of their paths coated in ice, she was forced to wear not only them but iron spikes affixed to the soles as well. And so it was with welcome relief that Angus directed them to a cave that twisted out of the wind as it worked back into the mountainside. There they would spend the night, only to begin again with the dawn.
While the badger and Charles talked over the fire, Baerle reclined a short distance away where the light wasn't so bright in her eyes. She stretched her legs one by one, wiggling her long toes to return feeling to them, then slipping them back within the thick, woolen bedding that she hoped would keep her comfortable if not warm during the night. As she laid back against her pack, her tail flowed down between her legs, and this she checked over for scratches or bruises while idly listening to her friends.
"These first four were not hard to find," Charles offered as he stirred a pot brewing with a warm, meaty flavor. "Will the rest of them be as easy?"
"Some of them," Angus admitted as he checked over his weapons and climbing gear. He rubbed his thumb pads and claws against every metal part before setting them aside and checking the next. "A few will be challenging to reach, especially with the ice."
"James and I can handle that," Charles chimed in with a chuckle. "Someday I'll have to tell you about what we faced in the Barrier mountains."
"We may have time on this journey," Angus replied with a rumbling laugh.
James sat not too far away, his face lost in thought or weariness she wasn't sure. His eyes roved between her and their friends by the fire, seeming to see past them as if glimpsing some other truth than what appearances conveyed. He kept his pack close by him, one hand resting at its base as if he were holding what was buried within. Unlike Baerle, the donkey could wear his ice shoes directly over his hooves and had yet to take them off. The metal scraped against the cold stone floor every time he shifted.
"So, how do these talismans work?" Charles asked.
"Burris explained it a few times," Angus added with a grunt. "The five leaves each have a different spell. One looks for Lutins, another for humans who aren't Cursed. Daedra-touched creatures are a third. I don't remember the other two, but I suspect Giants are one of them." Angus waved one paw in the air and then sniffed at the broth with curious eyes. "That should be good. Now, when one of our enemies passes near the talismans, Burris will know it immediately and can warn Lord Avery and myself."
Charles took a small bowl in one paw and began to spoon some of the steaming broth. "Has it ever happened?"
"Once," Angus admitted, "But only once. A small band of Lutins decided to come raiding; they didn't go home."
Baerle smiled briefly at the malicious humor in the badger's voice, then turned to get her dinner. But James saw it and sprang forward, hastily saying, "I'll take that." Charles handed him the first bowl, and the donkey turned deftly on his iron-shod hooves to offer the bowl to Baerle. "Here you are."
She settled back against the stone and accepted the warm bowl with a nod. "Thank you," she offered quietly and then lowered her eyes.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" James asked after a moment's pause.
"Nay," she said softly as she stared into the steaming brew.
The donkey paused a moment as if waiting for instructions, then he added, "Are you sure? I can help you with your gear, or your..." he trailed off, eyes focused intently, but almost vacantly as well.
Baerle glanced at him once and sighed. The donkey was trying to be sweet, but she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Try as she might, she could not stop worrying about Kimberly and the children, nor could she put the rat completely out of her mind. Every touch, every glance, had made her wonder if perhaps her decision not to pursue him had been made too hastily. She needed time and some distance and it was going to be hard to have either until this mission was over.
"Please, James, I'm fine. I just... want to rest. Go eat your meal. I'll... I'll let you know if I need anything."
His lips quivered for a moment, but he did nod and turn slowly back to the cookpot, casting her one last glance before getting his food. Baerle lowered her snout over the bowl and tried to let the steam and the scent sooth all the hurt.
With a long sigh, Jessica slumped against one wall and took several deep breaths as she tried to regain her energy. It had been a long time since she had witnessed a spell both so simple and so subtle. The halter that had convinced Duke Thomas that he would rather be a simple horse and in fact had trapped him that way had been enormously difficult to undo, but at least it had the excuse of being a complicated spell with several interleaving layers. So far as Jessica was able to determine, the core of the spell slowly battering the skunk's brain into jelly was nothing more than an ever tightening twist.
"What time is it?" she asked after regaining her breath. With her was the woodpecker who'd taken a perch on the other side of the room near the hearth. Berchem remained curled up in bed, breathing gently for the moment. Jo had just left after force-feeding him another batch of broth and for the moment he was coherent.
"Past dusk," Burris replied. "They lit the evening torches not long ago."
"That late already?" Jessica gasped and forced herself to straighten. "No wonder I'm so tired." If this spell was going to be this difficult to study then she'd need to find a way to give herself an extra measure of strength.
"Did you figure it out?" Berchem asked as he rubbed at his forehead with one paw.
Jessica opened her beak, shut it, and then began to shake her head. "Not quite, but I do have a few ideas. Something happened here, that much I can tell."
"What do you know? Maybe I'll remember."
She extended one wing and pointed with her claws at the floor near the stairs. "Something dragged you across the floor here. At least the claw marks make it look like that. But you were being transformed into your beast form while something held your legs or tail fixed here at the base of the stairs."
"Maybe that's why my tail feels sore," Berchem mused as he tried to blink the weariness from his eyes. "But what did that?"
"There was someone else here," she added. "Someone standing on you and changing you. Can you remember anything?"
He closed his eyes tight and ground his jaws together for several seconds before shaking his head. "Nothing. I remember leaving the Inn and that's it."
"Can you tell who was here?" Burris asked in a chirp.
"Not yet. But I might be able to." Jessica turned back to the skunk and narrowed her gaze. "I think there's something else I can do now that might help."
Berchem opened his eyes hopefully. "What's that?"
"The magic that is twisted inside you passes through the Curse. I'm not sure if it is ties to it or not, but if I can change the Curse slightly, then I might be able to make the ringing stop, or, at least, make it hurt less."
"Change the Curse?" Berchem asked with an uncertain lilt. "You mean, like making me into a ferret or a horse?"
"No, I mean making you a child or a woman. I can't change your species."
Berchem recoiled in horror, bunching up behind his quilts with a fierce scowl. "No! I do not want to be a woman."
"It would just be temporary so I can better understand how this spell on you is working."
"No," Berchem shook his head. "Find another way!"
Jessica stared at the stubborn mephit and took a deep breath. Something in the way he objected irked her. His vehemence was not directed toward the idea of being a child again, rather, toward being a woman even if only for an hour or two. In a dream she'd had before the madness of the plague had arrived, she'd made Misha into a vixen despite his misgivings and it had proven very good for him-turned-her. The same could only be true of this irascible skunk.
"Very well," Jessica nodded with a feigned sigh. "I will watch over you tonight in case you suffer the pain again. I have much to think about anyway."
Berchem glanced at the last of the broth sitting on the hearth. "Good. You can bring me that if the pain comes back."
Burris stirred from his corner and stretched a wing toward her. "Are you sure you are feeling quite up to it? You could sleep now and come back a little later."
"I will be fine. I'm feeling much better already," Jessica assured him with a firm voice and a straightening of her back.
"Then I will return tomorrow," Burris said with a bob of his head. "I will let Lord Avery know what you've found. Is there anything I can bring you?"
"Just something to break my fast in the morning," she replied with a squawk. "Tomorrow then." And while Berchem curled beneath his quilts and the woodpecker flew up the stairs and out into the night, she dimmed the lights and lowered into a perch, eyes fixed upon the skunk. One last time she allowed herself the exhaustion of peering into the magical world.
As soon as she grasped the thread that led back to the hyacinth, she felt a renewed vigor and went about her work with a fresh verve and command. With barely a flick of her feathers she could arrange the dweomer in the weave of magical threads surround and passing through the skunk. She made sure to attach them to the very threads that were twisting in his mind, being ever so gentle so as not to disturb them and cause Berchem any more pain. Her purpose was to find a way to break that knot and to do so she needed to understand it. This would tell her if it was connected to the Curse in anyway.
And by anchoring the spell that would inevitably make Berchem a woman to the same threads winding together, she set her spell to be triggered by the enemy magic itself! Jessica marveled at such a simple and wonderfully inventive new way to practice her craft.
When she was finished, she allowed the magical energies to fade back into invisibility. But her eyes never left the sleeping skunk. And there she perched as the night wore on, passively observing, wondering how long it would take before her spell changed him.
March 11, 708 CR
Darkness there and nothing more.
James opened his eyes and welcomed the shadows that filled the cave. They were one more cloak with which to wrap himself and guard against the chill and against vicious eyes. Angus had set traps by the cave's entrance but of course they still had to mount a watch. Charles had offered to remain a stone statue all night long but Angus thought it better if they all had some sleep to keep up their strength for the climb ahead.
And as James listened to the still air, the faint scent of the dead fire lingering across his nostrils, he heard nothing but a faint tremor of wind outside. Everyone was asleep but him, and Angus, who had taken the last watch, was not in the cave.
To still the beating.
James shifted ever so slightly as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. They had all slept close to the fire for warmth; Charles was in easy reach. The brow of his angular head, and the point of his snout were silhouetted in the darkness. One stroke and it would be over.
Deep into that darkness peering.
James stared and reached into his pack which lay nestled at his side. Though he could not touch it, he felt the bell throbbing within, the haft seeking his hand where it belonged. A simple tolling and it would be over. Merely this and nothing more.
James blinked and ground his flat teeth together. Back into his mind turning, all his soul within burning, soon he heard a tolling even louder than before. With each blink his eyelids flapping, and his heart steadily a rapping, he fixed his gaze on the loathsome rat before. His hand around the bell was grasping, and slowly it was tasking, tasking him to toll just once more.
And then, nevermore.
Nevermore.
James gasped and tore his gaze from the rat, shutting his eyes tight for a moment as his hand slipped free from the bell's haft. If he dared strike now, no matter how much he yearned for the satisfying thud as Charles's head caved in, eyes spreading to either side, jowls splitting in either direction, blood smearing across the cave floor, it would never, under any circumstance appear as anything other than cold-blooded murder. Baerle would never love a murderer.
The soul shall find itself alone!
James hastily closed his sack and pulled his arm back beneath his sleeping roll. If he didn't want to be alone, then it must be done right. He laid his head back down, long ears splayed on either side of his head and tried to imagine Baerle smiling at him. One day she would. One day.