<html> <body> I have to leave town for a few days so I won't be able to send anything more on my story until Sunday.  So I'm posting a double part today to make up for the lack of it the next few days.  Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold By Charles Matthias 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. ---------- At some point well past midnight, Jessica descended into a light sleep through which she glimpsed strange dreams of a line of Keepers passing before her. They each came to her, pulled the hyacinth stalk and drank water from one of the purple cups. As they did their bodies shifted in some new way; men became children, women were covered in thick furry hides, and both men and women became woman and men. And with each new Keeper so altered, the hyacinth grew taller and wider until the Keepers were climbing the stalk to bathe in those cups, flying out on newly sprouted wings and some even washing away every last trace of their human guise that they might revel in the beast. It was an interesting idea, but as consciousness came to her, like all dreams, it slowly faded until all she was left was a sense of satisfaction, but also a vague suspicion that it was a hilarious exaggeration. She stretched her wings and beak as she rose out of her crouch and blinked her eyes to welcome the faint light streaming through Berchem's small windows. Morning had just arrived, and the twilight would soon be banished into a warm and sunny day, or so she gathered from the faint glint in the windows. Still, despite how sharp her vision as a hawk was, her eyes were meant for the day. Jessica summoned a trio of witchlights to illumine the skunk's home. Before she drifted off she'd seen no change in the skunk, but even a quick glance at the pallet and quilts revealed that something had happened. Bercehm's face was taut and the muscles were beginning to pull beneath his fur, and his arms were twitching and tense even as sleep still held him close. But the face was now more angular, the fur on the back of the skunk's head thicker, the arms slender, and each finger, so callused from years of fletching and drawing a bow, were now delicate. Jessica appraised the quilts and noted with satisfaction the twin mounds distending them. The skunk was, at first blush, quite a woman. But Jessica wondered how deeply her spell had penetrated into Berchem's essence; how quickly were the cords of magic tightening? Even as she began to turn her eyes to the magical threads, the skunk began to stir, drawing her slender arms up closer to her chest and grunting as her jaws clenched tight, eyes pressing so firmly down that no tear could escape. Disappointed at seeing the pain still present, Jessica asked, “How bad is it?” “Bad,” Berchem said, her ears folded back as she curled up almost into a ball, bunching the quilt up and hiding her feminine physique. “Get me the broth!” “Is it worse than yesterday?” Jessica asked again as she crossed over to the hearth and with a simple spell heated the leftover broth. “Is it different in any way?” “About the same. A little louder maybe. Not... as bad... as the first time.” Her voice was also higher pitched, and as she spoke she trailed off, ears turning as she tried to blink open her eyes. “What?” she managed in a half choke as she glimpsed her new hands. With great effort she turned them around and then pushed herself into a sitting position. The quilt fell from her chest to bunch over her legs and tail, revealing a pair of breasts that would make men drool like dogs with desire. Jessica would have to remember to be more careful applying the gender-changing curse, as it was meant to make its victims into exaggerated examples of their new sex, and it appeared to have done exactly that with Berchem. Berchem blinked and then pressed her head against the wall behind her. “You!” she tried to shout with rage, but it came across as a pitiful whine. “You... did it anyway!” “I had to know,” Jessica replied calmly as she carefully spooned out a bowl full of broth. It was difficult to balance the bowl in her wing claws, but over the years she'd become adept at managing small things like that. She didn't spill a drop even when she carried it over to the irate skunk. “I had to know how it would affect the spell on you since it seems to be passing through the Curse.” “It didn't do a damn thing!” she cried as she beat the back of her head three times against the wood behind her. Her arms snapped up to her chest, touched her weighty breasts, and then recoiled as if she'd burned them. “Undo this now!” “Oh, stop it,” Jessica squawked and snapped her beak shut with a click. “It's only temporary and I will take it off you after I've had a chance to examine you. Now, here's the broth. That will help with the pain.” Berchem opened one blue eye and glared. “Change me back first.” “No. Broth first, then I examine you, and then I remove it. You have no choice, Berchem. Now open your mouth.” The glare remained and Berchem's slender snout remained shut. Her arms tensed and pulled closer to her chest, this time not flinching from her breasts as they squeezed. Jessica lowered her eyelids. “Jo will be coming by soon. As will Burris. Do you want them to see you like this? How long do you think it will be before everyone in the Glen knows?” The defiance in her eye flared for a moment, and then her jaws opened slowly. Jessica nodded in appreciation and deposited each spoonful one at a time until the bowl was empty. A few seconds later Bercehm's muscles began to relax and she began to breath more slowly. The look of disgust still filled her face. “Some of us have always had to be women you know,” Jessica chided the new female as she set the bowl and spoon down. “It might be good for you to spend time this way and learn what it's like to be a woman and how others treat you. I can very easily keep you this way for weeks, maybe even months.” It was a terrible exaggeration as she had only just been able to maintain Maud as a giraffe for two days, but if she continued her studies it might be possible. Berchem lowered her arms from her chest and looked around for a shirt to hide her nakedness in. “Just do what you need to do.” Berchem shifted on the pallet as she reached for the little chest to pull out a tunic. Her legs rubbed together and she shuddered. “Oh that is not good.” Jessica ignored the skunk's complaints as she allowed the threads of magic to appear. The Curse covered her body and now it glimmered with a new silvery sheen, sinking ever more into the depths of black. The knot seemed slightly larger than before, but it was just as taut as it had been yesterday. Making Berchem a woman had done nothing to relieve the pain or to hamper the spell. She poked and prodded for a few more minutes as the skunk, after donning a tunic, tentatively examined her new body, casting one quick disgusted look at the chamberpot while clasping her legs tightly together and hunkering back down beneath the quilt. But no matter how much Jessica fiddled with the cords of magic, she could see no difference. “It does not look like it did anything. I don't think there's anything more I can do to study this spell, at least not directly.” Jessica admitted with a long sigh. “Well, make me a man again and think of something else.” Her face scrunched up in disgust. “I hate this voice!” “Berchem, say one more word like that, and I will leave you like this.” “But...” “One more word!” Jessica leaned forward, her ire building. “I can make everyone here forget you were ever a man too.” Berchem blinked and scrunched herself back against the wall, grasping the quilt as if it could ward off magical blows. “You... you can?” Jessica nodded, stretching her talons but not scraping the wood. “I can. Now keep silence, and I will remove this spell. But don't test my patience.” The skunk kept her snout closed tight and eyes lowered. Jessica took a deep breath and offered in a kinder voice, “The Curse could have made you a woman eight years ago. And... you're very lovely this way.” Her ears flicked back but she did her best neither to look at the hawk nor at herself. With a blink, Jessica allowed the weave of magic all around her to flare to life again. Her spell wrapped about Bercehm's body, sunken into the Curse like a jewel inlaid in metal. With a quick snip of her claws, she detached the spell from its connection tot he hyacinth. Without a powerful reservoir of magic to draw upon, the spell, as fragile as it was, would disintegrate. Or at least it was supposed to. Even after the cord bringing the spell power dwindled and vanished into the ether, the spell remained intact, and Berchem stubbornly stayed female. Whatever malady the skunk suffered was holding Jessica's contribution in place. The hawk did not allow her frustration to show, lest Bercehm worry anew and offer more jeremiads against women, rather focused on dismantling her own spell piece by piece. But to her chagrin, it was stuck fast within the Curse and she could not draw it apart. Jessica shifted her focus to the threads of magic passing through Berchem's essence. To these she had tied her spell in hopes of learning how fast the knot in her ears was tightening. Buried beneath the black smear of the Curse she could still see her littler knots and felt a measure of relief. They were tauter than before, but still quite simple to undo. When the last of them was finally undone, the silvery sheen began to scatter and vanish. Berchem moaned, her voice deepening as her body reverted to manhood. Her tunic, once swollen, dropped a couple inches as her chest flattened and then resumed a manly physique. Berchem took several long breaths, inspecting his newly male body to make sure that nothing was missing, before he glanced irritably at Jessica and said, “Thank you. That's better.” “And the ringing?” He put one paw to his head and groaned. “Still there. It's like a church bell that won't stop.” “Hmmm,” Jessica pondered as she glanced around the room. A sudden knocking made her spread her wings and crane her head toward the door. “Who is it?” “It's Jo,” the vixen healer called down as she pulled open the door and poked her head in. “I'm here with another batch of herbs and to give you a chance to rest. Burris is waiting for you at the Inn and he insists that you come and get something to eat.” Jessica folded her wings back up while Berchem breathed a sigh of relief as he straightened out his tunic and his quilt. The hawk nodded. “I've learned about all I can this way. I think I'm going to try and help Berchem recover his memory. That might tell us what magic was used against him. I'll need to gather some components first for that kind of casting.” The fox slipped down the stairs with her herb basted in tow, long tail anxiously wagging. “Speak with Erica, she might be able to help you find what you need. You can find her at my shop if she isn't out gathering herbs.” “Thank you,” Jessica said with a bob of her head. She glanced at Berchem who had his head resting against the wood behind him, eyes shut and paws resting in his lap. “And don't you forget what I said, either.” “Oh, I won't,” he assured her with a jowl twitch that showed fangs. ---------- While the day began sunny, crisp, and cold enough that the ice-crusted rocks would not be slick with melt, clouds gathered slowly and by midday they had obscured all of the sky and wrapped themselves about the tallest peaks glimmering and gray and white. The quartet of Glenners moved quickly through the mountain passes, taking risks to gain time against what they knew was quickly bearing down on them; a storm. They continued in the same formation as they had the day before, but now they kept ropes secured about their waists as they navigated paths so narrow that they couldn't turn around. Angus assured them that once they crossed one final mountain overlooking the glassy Sea of Souls, they would reach a long stretch riddled with caves, trees, and wide avenues through which they could rest. Because each of them had been changed into half-animal men by the Curses, despite clinging to the slope of rock, lichen, and frozen moss with their claws and ice shoes, chest almost rubbing against sheer walls that stretched above them like a stern and unmerciful deity, their right eyes were situated so that they could still see the wide expanse of the sea. It stretched before them a study in silver and white, gleaming even in the cool light, its distant shores shrouded by fog and by the other mountains. Beneath them the stone fell away to vanish into a defile of rock and debris cluttered with fir and spruce in strips so narrow that not even the hardiest of woodsmen would have tried to make it a home. The vista, despite all of its beauty and breathtaking wonder, reminded them yet again just how difficult it must have been for Calephas to bring his troops into the mountains west of the Glen. With enemies that determined to kill them, they had no choice but to be equally determined to stop them. And so they pressed on, charging as many of the talismans facing the sea as they could. And by the time the storm finally hit them as they rounded the last bend where the path began to descend into a sheltered valley, they had finished revivifying the ninth. Heady with their quick success, they felt confidant that they would reach shelter before the winds and snow blasted them. They were wrong. The wind struck from around the western face of the mountain, and with it came stinging snow flakes that blinded them. Baerle was struck first and she recoiled at the sudden onslaught that came as if from nowhere. Her paws slipped on the ice and with a scream almost swallowed by the wind, she tipped over backward and spun into the air. Charles's flesh hardened into granite as he wrapped one arm about the rope and the other he drove into the mountainside to better anchor himself. Even as James started forward to try and rescue Baerle, the rat swung her back onto the ledge, and then pressed his body around hers, pinning her between his stony flesh and the wall. James took another step forward, intent on pulling the opossum free from the rat's grip, but Angus yanked back on the rope and shouted, “Hang on! They're fine!” The donkey seethed as he pressed his body against the stone, digging the metal spikes on his hooves into the ice. The wind shifted and with it the storm battered all of them, stinging snow in their eyes and clawing gales through their clothes and hides. The only thing they could do was hold on and hope it ended soon. James glared at the rat and opossum locked in a fixed embrace and wished he could make the mountain itself toll in his rage. ---------- Jessica's errands kept her away from Berchem's burrow most of the day. This was just fine for Berchem who really wasn't that interested in seeing the hawk mage again. At least until she was ready to actually do something about the ringing in his mind; as long as she kept experimenting and amusing herself, she could go rot. Not that he'd ever say that to her, not after her promise to make him into a woman for good. He shuddered at the very memory of it, grateful that it had only been for a few minutes, but irritated that it had ever happened in the first place. Berchem didn't want to dwell on his brief excursion into femininity, but with each gong striking the back of his mind, he kept picturing himself in that foreign body. What was worse, as the hours dragged and he tried to relax, he started to imagine himself as a woman again, dressed like a woman, and going about town and giggling with the other women. He even began to wonder what it was that they always found so amusing, or what silly nonsense they often whispered to one another in an obvious way. Berchem had never before spent so much time pondering these things, and it irritated him that one spell from the hawk had upset the course of his usually focused mind. If not for the tolling which crippled his reflexes he would have gone hunting to try to clear his thoughts. He even tried to fletch new arrows, but when his mind didn't start to wonder if he'd have the strength to pull his bow once a woman, the tolling kept making his fingers twitch and ruin the feathers. After a half hour he gave up and laid back down on the bed waiting for anybody to come and bring him news or relief. Jo had come by earlier that morning and provided a new batch of broth, this spiced with cinnamon which made it that much easier to stomach the stronger and stronger brew. The vixen admitted that if she made the broth any stronger, it was just as likely to make Berchem ill as it was to clear his mind. Which meant that the hawk, if she was actually going to do something, would need to do it soon. Even knowing that, Berchem still wasn't in any mood to see her again. After drinking another bowl of the cinnamon flavored broth Berchem lay back down on the bed and tried to brush the tangles out of his tail. In a fit of rage, he dashed the comb across the room when the image of himself as a woman not only brushing out her tail, but tying ribbon through it came to him. With a loud grump he lay down on the bed and crossed his arms, glaring at the wood above. And that was when he heard a pair of hooves kick at his door gently. “Berchem, it's me,” a familiar throaty voice cried out. The skunk breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on down.” Descending the stairs was a broad-shouldered deer; his antlers had only been growing for a month but already he sported three points on either side. To protect these the deer ducked his head low as he came down the steps, heavy, cloven hooves making the wooden stairs creak. When he reached the bottom he shifted his stance to avoid stepping on the metal comb. “Are you okay?” He grunted and sat back up, long tail sliding behind him against the wall. “I'm fine, Alldis. Except for this pounding headache and a hawk who's playing around with magic. Have you found anything?” Alldis bent over, plucked up the comb, and handed it back to the skunk. “Well, a lot of Glenners have been back and forth around your burrow here, but I did find a good number of paw-prints and a couple hoof-prints that are no more than a few days old. I'm trying to figure out who they belong to. And I have the guards actually keeping people from coming around and snooping in your windows.” Berchem glanced at either small window nervously, a horrible thought springing to mind. Had somebody seen him that morning or in the night after he'd changed? “Have people been looking?” Alldis's ears flicked forward and his black nostrils flared a little. “Some. None today though. You're more jumpy than usual.” His brow furrowed and eyes darkened. “It's been a rotten day.” “Jessica's not helping? I saw her talking with the fuller for some whitening agent. I guess for a spell or something.” Berchem snorted and flicked his tail. “No, she isn't helping. She's playing around with the Curses of all things, like that has anything to do with this damn ringing.” He put his paws to his head and took a deep breath as he felt the sound swell against the back of his eyes. “She says she wants to help me get my memory back.” Alldis grunted as he looked around the floor, stepping gingerly with his hooves. “That sounds like a good idea.” He stopped and bent over, white tail flicking up behind him. His ears turned up again and he blinked. “Wait, did you say she was playing with the Curses? Just what did she...” The curiosity on his snout slowly spread into a wide and amused grin. “I've heard from Sir Saulius that Jessica was able to make one of the Lakelanders into a giraffe. Did she change you too?” The skunk closed his eyes and ground his fangs together. “I don't want to talk about it.” Alldis laughed and slapped one thigh. “Oh, I get it! She made you a woman didn't she?” Berchem opened one eye to shoot his friend a deathly glare. The deer kept chuckling. “Well know wonder you're so grumpy. You finally had a lady skunk here in your bed and you can't do anything about it!” “Shut up, Alldis! It's not funny!” “Of course it is,” Alldis replied, though one hand rose to feel a velveted antler. “Well, you'd be laughing if she made me a doe.” The skunk glowered for a moment longer, before lowering his gaze into his lap. “Not anymore.” Alldis glanced at him and rolled his eyes. “Look, I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about.” Under his breath the cervine muttered just loud enough for Berchem to hear even through the ringing, “It's still damn funny.” Berchem grumbled inaudibly, took the comb, and resumed untangling his tail fur. The Glen's chief hunter and tracker resumed his inspection of the floor. It didn't take him long to find the claw marks that Angus had first found and that Jessica said he'd made. The deer's thick hoof-like fingers traced out the lines. He pressed in his snout and licked the floor across the marks a few times, before a bit of cud slid up his throat and he started chewing. He crawled around a few minutes more, taking special care to note some impression in the floor just beneath the stairs, before swallowing his cud and standing back up. The ringing was getting louder in Berchem's mind, and he looked with longing hope at the broth for a moment before turning to the deer and asking, “Well? Did you find anything?” Alldis nodded and gestured at the floor. “These claw marks get smaller and tighter together as they get closer to the stairs. It's like you were turning into your animal form while making them.” “That's what Jessica said. Anything else?” “There's a few other marks here, very subtle. It looks like somebody stomped on the wood here just beneath the stairs. The marks are round, something blunt. It might be a hoof. I'm not quite sure. I don't have a full impression.” “We're there any hoof-prints outside?” “Aye, one set. Other than mine. A horse or donkey, not sure which. I'm going to have to check all of the equines in the Glen, and that means the Polygamites. One of them will match that print. Whoever it belongs to might know something.” “Or they might have done this to me!” Alldis nodded with a low bleat. “Maybe so; hard to imagine. Is there anything I can tell Jo you need? More broth? A cor...” Berchem hissed, “Don't you dare say it!” The deer laughed and shook his head. “May Akkala heal you soon, Bercehm.” Alldis chuckled to himself some more as he turned and climbed back up the stairs. Berchem glared after the buck as he combed through his tail fur. Now he had another horrible image that wouldn't leave! ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4e95fcdc8388154786014! </body> </html>