"There they go!" a soldier cried.

"I got the hawk," the sergeant snapped. "You take the crow."

Parry saw to his dismay that they had two crossbows, and seemed competent in their use. The sergeant let fly his shaft, and it transfixed the hawk. Parry swerved-and the shaft intended for him missed, brushing his right wingtip.

The Sorcerer fell. Parry could not help him, for he was defenseless against the deadly shafts of the crossbow. He winged strongly toward the trees, losing himself among their branches before the soldiers could reload.

The soldiers had known what to expect! They had come prepared for the form-changing. This had been a more competent trap than the Sorcerer had realized. Their accuracy of information was unnerving, apart from its effect on the Sorcerer. Most ignorant peasants believed that sorcerers could accomplish anything, no matter how outlandish; most educated folk prided themselves on their ability to doubt, so professed not to believe in magic at all. Between the two extremes, a clever sorcerer could prosper, as Parry's father had, using only that minimum of magic required to accomplish his purposes. But this party had targeted him precisely, and so accomplished the mission: Sorcerer dead and house destroyed.

Parry had escaped largely by luck. He had been the second to fly, so the less-accurate soldier had been a.s.signed to him. He had dodged involuntarily, and thereby saved his life.

He soon lost the soldiers; it was impossible to pursue a black bird flitting through low shadows. When he was sure he was safe, he paused to rest and take stock.

Then the full realization of his father's fate struck him. The Sorcerer was dead! All his plans for escape and success elsewhere were ended, by that single shot from the crossbow.

Parry's surge of grief was overridden almost immediately by rage. He would go back and destroy those foul soldiers! He would make a fire that would engulf them, as their fire had engulfed the house! It required only minimal magic to start a fire; then it fed itself. His father would be avenged!

But then a new concern overtook him. Jolie! She was at the village, and if they had known of the Sorcerer, they might know of her, too. If they sent a contingent to the village- He spread his wings and flew into the air. The crow could travel more swiftly than the human being, cross-country. Part of what made this form so difficult was adapting his consciousness to fit within it; that alone had taken Parry months of practice, but now he blessed that effort.

Even so, it took him many minutes to cover the distance. By the time he reached the village, he knew from the clamor that his worst fear had been realized. The soldiers of the crusade were there, and they were before the house of Jolie's family. Something was happening there, and Parry dreaded to imagine what.

He landed and returned to his human form. He was naked. He had not yet developed to that sophistication of transformation that enabled him to change his clothing, too. But he had prepared for such an event; he had a cache of clothing in a hollow tree just beyond the village.

He hurried to this now. Just as he was reaching into it, a harsh voice sounded: "We have you. Sorcerer!"

Parry jumped up, whirling on the man, but found himself facing a c.o.c.ked crossbow aimed at his chest. He froze in place.

"Before you try magic, know this," the crossbowman said. "We have your girl, and she will die the moment you oppose us. Then we shall hunt you down, too; we know how to do it."

Evidently they did! Twice now, in two places, the soldiers of the crusade had sprung successful traps. They had known exactly where to find his father and himself, and who else to look for. It was too neat. There had to be magic involved-and until he knew its source and nature, he would have to cooperate. Unless his hand was forced.

They marched him, naked, into the village. None of the villagers was in evidence; the soldiers had evidently cowed them and sent them to hide in their cottages while waiting for Parry. Now they had him. He could change form and escape, or conjure a weapon and attack; he was not at all helpless. But he was sure they were not bluffing about Jolie, and he could not risk precipitating harm to her.

They did have her. Another sergeant held her by the arm. Her dress was torn, and the other soldiers were ogling what showed. She had evidently fought, but been overcome; the white cross on the sergeant's tunic was smeared with dirt. Because she lacked the ability to change form, she had been unable to escape that way. How he wished now he had taught her that, and let some of the other arts wait!

Still, she did have effective abilities. She could mesmerize, if she could gain and hold the direct gaze of a single person. If they could maneuver things so that she could stun her captor with a glance, then Parry could change to a horse and carry her swiftly away.

"Bind him!" the sergeant commanded. "Blindfold him, too; that will stop his magic!"

They were wrong in that; Parry had limited second sight, so that he could see almost as well without eyes as he could with them. They were underestimating him, and that was an a.s.set. He needed every advantage he could muster!

They bound him tightly with rope, and put a hood over his head, tying it closely about his neck. They thrust him against the wall of the cottage.

"I don't know," a soldier said. "I've heard those sorcerers cannot be bound if they don't want to be. How do we know he isn't pretending helplessness until he's ready to wipe us out?"

The sergeant considered. "You're right. We were warned to take no chances. If anything goes wrong at the old sorcerer's place, we want to be sure we've got this one secure. So we'll test it. Keep the crossbow on him, and kill him if he moves."

"But he could wait till night, then make a vision to distract the guard and break away," the soldier pointed out.

That soldier was too smart!

"I had a good test in mind," the sergeant said. "I'm going to take the wench inside and have some fun with her. If he can get free, that's when he'll do it. If he doesn't budge, we'll know he's secure."

The sergeant was too c.o.c.ksure. He knew less about sorcerers than he thought. Parry could break free anytime, but he would not-because it was not his safety but Jolie's he was concerned with. But the sergeant was giving her the opportunity she needed. The moment he tried to rape her, she would mesmerize him. Because they would be out of sight of the soldiers, she would be able to stun him and tie him up. Then Parry would burst free and change and carry her away.

Ah, but there was the crossbow. With his second sight, he could see the soldier clearly. Parry was facing away from him, but it didn't matter; second sight did not depend on direction.

He generated an image that caused his own body to seem to blur. The soldier blinked, but this blurring was not of his eyes but of the subject. Parry's form wavered rhythmically, in a manner that induced mesmerism. The soldier's mind became clouded, and then the soldier drifted gently to sleep, his eyes still open and his weapon still pointed. But now he would not fire when Parry moved.

Parry diverted his sight to Jolie. Her parents' cottage was empty, or perhaps the people were bound in the stall half of it, leaving the living chamber clear. Jolie was tied, her hands bound up behind her head, her ankles crossed and tied in that position. That made it possible for her legs to spread, but not to kick. She was lying on the straw bed.

The sergeant was in the process of removing his hauberk. The mail garment covered him from head to knee, and was heavy; a s.e.xual act would be problematical in it. So the sergeant drew it off over his head, and pulled his arms from the mitten-sleeves. Now he stood in his jack, the padded undergarment.

He approached Jolie. He took hold of her shoulders and made her look him in the face. "Scream, wench!" he said. "I want your man to hear!"

She did not scream. She stared at him, using the mesmerizing gaze.

The sergeant laughed. "Your tricks won't work on me, wench! I have an amulet to protect me from them!" He touched a silver medallion that hung from his neck. "We were warned about your kind!"

Parry had not thought of that! Most of the power of mesmerization lay in the recipient's belief; a countercharm destroyed that belief, and therefore the effect.

The amulet dangled near her face. Jolie lifted her head and took it with her teeth. She wrenched it away.

The sergeant cursed. He grabbed for the amulet, but Jolie's gaze caught his own, and now her power was unfettered.

The sergeant threw himself back, and brought up his hands, covering his eyes, breaking the contact.

She scrambled up as well as she could with wrists and ankles bound, pursuing him. She had to catch his eyes again, to complete the mesmerization. Then she could make him untie her, and she would be ready for Parry to act.

But the sergeant, aware of this threat, scrambled to fetch his sword. His hand caught it as Jolie made it to her knees and lurched to her feet despite the bindings. She hopped at him.

Parry realized he couldn't wait. He drew on his reserve of strength and snapped the rope that bound his hands. Then he snapped his feet free. This was more physical discipline than magic; the cords that were effective against the average man did not have too much extra capacity.

"He's escaping!" a soldier cried. "Shoot him!"

The crossbowman, jolted from his trance, pulled the trigger. The arrow fired out. But Parry was already out of its line, and it struck the ground. He ripped the hood from his head.

His second sight remained. While he moved, avoiding the soldiers, he saw the sergeant lift the sword and jam it at Jolie's approaching body.

Parry leaped for the door, changing to wolf form as he did. But fast as he was, he was too slow. As he burst inside, the sergeant's sword plunged through Jolie's chest, and was withdrawn: a swift but deadly strike. The man oriented for a second, more precise attack.

Parry reached the sergeant. His teeth closed on the sergeant's throat and sliced through the flesh, tearing out the jugular vein and puncturing the carotid arteries. The sergeant was dead on his feet.

But so was Jolie. She and the sergeant fell together, their blood mingling.

Parry sniffed Jolie. The sword had driven through her right lung. She was grievously wounded, but alive.

He shifted to human form. "Jolie, look at me," he said, taking her head in his hands.

Her pain-glazed eyes gazed into his. Instantly he mesmerized her. "You feel no pain," he said. "Your body will bleed no more. You will sleep in stasis until I wake you. I love you."

Her eyes closed. Her bleeding slowed. She would endure for the time required. This had been part of her training: to respond instantly to healing mesmerization.

Quickly he took the soiled sword and used its edge to slice the mattress. He cut stout strips and fashioned them into a harness.

A soldier's face showed in the doorway. Parry glanced at him, and exerted his power of mesmerization. "I am your sergeant," he said. "I have dealt with the sorcerer. I have not finished with the wench. Remain clear until I emerge."

The soldier nodded and retreated. Parry returned to his work. It was easy to deal with a single enemy, but difficult to deal with many in this manner, because he could focus his mesmeric gaze on only one at a time. The single soldier's intrusion had been a stroke of luck in an otherwise disastrous situation; it gave Parry time to do what he needed.

He rigged the harness to support Jolie's body. Then he formed the long straps of it into two great loops, such as might encircle the body of a horse. He fitted Jolie into her part, then stood in the loops, draping one around his neck and the other around his midsection. Then he heaved Jolie up to his back, bent forward, and changed to horse form.

His abruptly larger body took up the slack, filling out the loops. Now Jolie was bound to his back. He shook himself, nudging her into proper place so she could not slide around and down. Then he leaped out the door.

The soldiers gaped. Parry took advantage of their momentary inaction to locate the crossbow and stomp it with a forehoof. Then he galloped out of the village, unscathed.

He was in animal form, but his human intellect remained, as it had in the other forms. That was a key part of the magic. A person who transformed without making allowance for the mind could be in bad trouble! But it was not easy to master, and this was one reason that Jolie had not yet reached this stage. If only Parry had realized earlier that she would need it!

There was no pursuit. The death of the sergeant and the speed of Parry's escape must have thrown the soldiers into confusion. That enabled Parry to go almost directly to the prepared retreat in the forest.

Once there, he reverted to his human form and took Jolie down from his back. He carried her into the shelter and eased her to the mattress.

Now he drew on his expertise in medicine. He had herbs and elixirs to reduce pain, cleanse infection and promote healing. Few folk realized the importance of cleanliness in such matters; the worst threats to life were not huge monsters, but invisibly small ones that multiplied in dirt. The wound was bad, but his magic should fix it.

But he realized now that the trip to the retreat had been hard on her. Had he attended to her immediately, in the village, he could have done her a great deal of good. But he had, had to use a stopgap measure, and then carry her, and she had bounced on his back. Her wound had been aggravated, and the blood had flowed despite the control lent by her mesmerized state. Now she was in serious trouble. Her breathing was labored, for only one lung was functioning adequately.

He worked desperately, but there was much he could not do. His father had greater expertise-but his father was dead. Parry didn't know how to make up for the extensive internal bleeding he realized had occurred. He had no subst.i.tute for blood! He would have given her his own, but knew that wouldn't work; the humors of one person inevitably fought those of another, and made the transfusion worse than none at all. She had to survive on her own blood-and she no longer had enough.

Perhaps if he gave her plenty of nourishing liquid to drink it would restore the blood. But to do that, he would have to wake her. He didn't like that, because she would then become aware of her pain; yet there seemed to be no choice.

He prepared broth, thick with the needs of life. He set a warm bowl of it beside her. Then he roused her with a word. "Wake," he said. "Wake, Jolie."

Her eyelids flickered. "Parry," she breathed-and winced.

"You were wounded," he said quickly. "A sword thrust. You have lost blood. But I have you safe, and if you will drink this good broth-"

Slowly, she shook her head. "Parry, I hurt," she gasped. "Please let me die."

He was horrified. "Jolie, I'll never let you die!"

"It is no use," she whispered with half a breath. "I love you, but I cannot-cannot survive. The pain is ter-terrible. Kiss me and let me die."

It was worse than he had supposed. She would never have yielded to mere pain; she was a stout girl at heart. She knew her body, and knew it could not be saved.

He had to honor her last request.

He leaned forward and kissed her with infinite tenderness. He felt her response. Then she sighed and sank into unconsciousness.

A hooded figure stepped through the wall.

Parry started up, astonished and dismayed. He had not heard the soldiers coming!

But this was no soldier. It was a man in a voluminous black cloak, with a deep cowl that hid his face in shadow. He leaned over Jolie, one hand reaching for her.

"Stop!" Parry cried, outraged in his grief. "She is my love and my wife! I will suffer no stranger to touch her in her last moment!"

The figure turned to him as if in surprise.

The surprise was mutual. Now Parry discerned the face-and it was a fleshless skull.

"I am no stranger," the bare teeth said. "I am Thanatos. I have come for this woman's soul."

It had to be true. The figure had stepped through the wall without disturbing it, at the very moment Jolie was sinking into oblivion.

He remembered something his father had told him. There were Incarnations, and Death was one of them. But he came personally only for those whose souls were in doubt.

"Jolie is a good woman!" Parry protested. "She has been everything to me! How can her soul be in doubt?"

The hood tilted. "I shall ascertain that for you." The hand moved again, this time reaching into Jolie's body and catching something there. In a moment it emerged, holding something like a netting of glowing spider web. It was her soul.

Thanatos studied it. "She is a good woman," he agreed. "There is virtually no blight on her soul. Yet I was drawn to her. Let me investigate."

Then, suddenly, the world stopped. Parry was frozen in place, unable to move, even to breathe, yet was in no discomfort. It was as though time had stilled. This was magic of a far superior order!

Then, after what could have been an instant or a day, motion resumed. "I have inquired," Thanatos said. "She is not evil, but the circ.u.mstance of her death precipitates monstrous evil. We do not know its nature, for we find no current evidence of it, but it is nonetheless present. When it coalesces, it will be known that this was the site of its initiation. Therefore the goodness of her soul is balanced by the evil of its situation, and I was summoned."

"She cannot go to Heaven?"

"I think she cannot escape the mortal realm," Thanatos replied. "She must remain as a ghost, until the evil abates."

"Then let her stay with me!" Parry cried. "I will care for her ghost!"

Thanatos shrugged. "Take a drop of her blood on your wrist," he said. "She can inhabit only her own essence."

Parry touched his left wrist to Jolie's wounded breast, picking up a smear of the blood.

Thanatos set the soul against that smear. It shrank into the blood and disappeared.

Parry was silent, gazing at the blood. By the time he thought to ask another question, Thanatos was gone. Parry was left with Jolie's body, and his grief.

Then he heard the soldiers coming. He had to flee, for they would kill him on sight. He could not even remain to give his beloved a decent Christian burial. That was grief upon grief.

He became the wolf and leaped from the shelter. An arrow sought him, but missed. In moments he was away and hidden among the trees. He escaped unscathed-in body.

Chapter 3.