Piers Anthony - Split Infinity

“A whole herd? Could be coming to the aid of one of their number. Wild animals can be like that.”

“Neysal” Stile cried. “If something happened to her-“

“We had better get over there and see,” Hulk said.

“I should never have let Sheen delay me!”

“I doubt you had much choice in the matter, and we both did need the rest. Is Sheen really a robot?”

“She really is. Not that it makes much difference.”

“And Neysa really is a horse—a unicorn who turns into a woman?”

“That too. And a firefly. You will see it soon enough —if all is well.” Stile was increasingly nervous about that.

They ran, moving into the marathon pace. Neither man was in condition for it, because this was too soon after the real one they had run. But this was not to be the full course. They approached the Blue Demesnes.

But the unicorns were moving faster. Now their music sounded across the field, like a percussion-and-wind orchestra. In the lead was a great stallion whose tone was that of a fine accordion; on the flanks were lesser males whose horns were muted or silent. Evidently unicorns were not gelded, they were muted in public. In the center ran the mass of mature mares, carrying the burden of the melody. The stallion would play the theme, and the mares would reiterate it in complex harmonies. It was an impressive charge, visually and sonically.

Now, from the west appeared another group, dark and low to the ground, moving faster than the unicorns. Stile struggled to make it out. Then he heard the baying of a canine-type, and understood. “Wolves! Probably werewolves!” he cried.

“I am ignorant of conventions here, apart from what Sheen told me of what you had told her,” Hulk puffed. “But is such convergence of herd and pack usual?”

“Not that I know of,” Stile admitted. “It could be Kurrelgyre, returning with friends—but I don’t see why. Or it could be the pack leader Kurrelgyre went to kill; if he were victorious, and sought revenge on the person who helped Kurrelgyre—I don’t know. They certainly look grim.”

“Werewolves and unicorns are natural enemies?”

“Yes. And both are normally unfriendly to man. Kurrelgyre and Neysa learned to get along, but—“

“Now I’m no genius and this is not my business, but it strikes me that the arrival of these two forces at this time strains coincidence. Could this relate to you? If there were some alert, some way they would be aware of the moment you re-entered this frame—“

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Stile said. “You see, I’m a natural magician in this frame—a focus of much power. But I have sworn off magic.”

“And your frame-wife would like you to break that oath,” Hulk said. “So you can preserve the Blue Demesnes from further harm. And the animals would want you to keep your oath, so you will not become anathema to them. These two types of animals may just be united—against you. You were not joking about needing a bodyguard!”

“You catch on rapidly,” Stile agreed.

The two of them picked up speed though both were tiring, in an effort to reach the castle before either herd or pack. But it soon became evident that they would not succeed. The unicorn herd would arrive first, then the wolves.

Now the wolf pack veered, orienting on Stile instead of the castle. There seemed to be ninety or a hundred of them, large dark animals with heavy fur and gleaming eyes and teeth that showed whitely with their panting. “I hope, despite my reasoning, that they’re on our side,” Hulk said, slowing to a walk.

The wolves ringed them. One came forward, and shifted into man-form. A fresh scar ran across one cheek, and his left ear was missing. But it was Stile’s friend.

“Kurrelgyre!” Stile exclaimed. “Thou wast victorious!”

“That was not in question, once thou hadst shown me the way,” the werewolf replied. He peered at Hulk. “This monster-man—friend or foe?”

“Friend,” Stile said quickly.

“Then I sniff tails with thee, ogre,” Kurrelgyre said, extending his hand to Hulk.

“Sure,” Hulk agreed awkwardly, taking the hand. He seemed to be having some trouble believing the trans-formation he had just seen.

“Hulk is from the other frame,” Stile said quickly.

“My bodyguard. He doesn’t talk much.” And he flashed Hulk a warning glance. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I fear I wronged thee inadvertently,” the werewolf said. “I returned to my pack, but could not kill my sire without first explaining why—“

“You killed your—“ Hulk began, startled.

Kurrelgyre turned, half-shifting into wolf-form. “Thou addressest me in that derogatory mode and tone?” he growled.

“He knows not our ways!” Stile cried. “Even as I did not, at first, and thou didst have to set me straight. He meant thee no offense.”

The werewolf returned all the way to man-form. “Of course. I apologize for mistaking thy intent,” he said to Hulk. “It remains a sensitive matter, and in a certain respect thou resemblest the type of monster that—“

“He understands,” Stile said. “We all make errors of assumption, at first. Why shouldst thou not explain to thy sire? It was the kindest thing thou couldst do for one already ill to death.”

Hulk nodded, beginning to understand. A mercy killing. Close enough.

“I came to my sire’s den,” Kurrelgyre said grimly. “He met me in man-form, and said, ‘Why comest thou here? This place is not safe for thee, my pup.’ I replied, *I come to slay thee, as befits the love I have for thee, my sire, and the honor of our line. Then will I avenge mine oath-friend Drowltoth, and restore my bitch to prominence in the pack.’ Hardly did he betray his dignity, or yield to the ravage of distemper I perceived in him; in that moment he stood as proud as I remembered him of old. T knew thou wouldst thus return in honor,’ he said. ‘How didst thou come to accept what must be done?’ I told him, ‘A man persuaded me, even as the Oracle foretold.’ And he asked, ‘Who was this good man?’ and I replied, ‘The Blue Adept,’ and he asked, ‘How is it that an Adept did this thing for thee?’

I said, ‘He was dead, and his double comes from the other frame to restore his demesnes.’ Then my sire looked beyond me in alarm, and I turned and discovered that others of the pack had come up silently during my distraction, and overheard. Thus the pack knew that the Blue Demesnes were in flux, and the word spread quickly. And my bitch spoke, and said, ‘Of all the Adepts, Blue alone has been known to do good works among animals, and if that should change—‘ “

“But that will not change!” Stile protested.

“I tried to tell them that. But mine own kind doubted, and when the unicorns learned that Neysa was prisoner at the Blue Demesnes—“

“Prisoner! She’s not—“ But Stile had to stop. “Is she?”

“We know not. But the unicorn stallion is of imperious bent.”

“Well, if she is a prisoner, that will cease the moment I get there. But thou hast not finished thy story.”

“It is simple enough,” Kurrelgyre said. “The pack leader came, and my sire said, ‘It is time.’ We changed to wolf-form, and quickly and cleanly I tore the throat out of my sire, and knew then that I had done right, and never did I see a wolf so glad to die. I then whirled and challenged the pack leader while yet my sire’s corpse lay steaming, and my right could not be denied before the pack. The pack leader was not so eager to die. He fought, and perhaps he injured me.” Kurrelgyre smiled briefly, touching the stump of his ear. “His throat I did not tear; that were too honorable a demise for such a cur. I hamstrung him, spiked both his eyes, tore out his tongue, and drove him with bitten tail into the wilderness to die lame and blind among the monsters. It was an excellent reckoning.”