User:Posti/Hoof Beat
From Shifti
Hoof Beat
It was a mistake to go into the Black Unicorn Bar that night. The patrons were hardly the sort to welcome a human police officer with open arms, especially one who had not left the neighborhood on the best of terms. Charlie wasn’t quite sure what brought him back for a visit - he’d started walking after his shift was over and ended up back in his old haunts. Still, he didn’t really think of it as a mistake until he heard Alicia’s voice.
Conversations, which had become hushed when he walked in, stopped dead. It was evident she hadn’t seen him yet, for she kept talking to whoever she had entered the bar with for a few moments before the silence caught her attention. Charlie cursed himself for a fool, then realized there was no point in trying to ignore her. Steeling himself, he turned around on his stool.
Seeing Alicia was still painful. She looked no different than the first time he had met her four years ago - slender and pale, with delicate hands and eyes that sparkled like blue sapphires. A high school prom queen with white-blonde hair cascading down over her shoulders - hair that covered the pointed ears of an elf. Oh, he’d known she was older than she looked, but he’d been all of twenty-one - fresh out of the police academy, and blinded by a combination of her beauty and his own stupidity.
The sapphires turn to blue ice as she saw him. To her credit, she didn’t even break stride, though the dark-haired male elf with her did a double take. “Charles! What a surprise! Rather far from your new beat, aren’t you?” She stopped about five feet away, giving him a cold smile. “It’s been, what? A year? Two?”
“Two and a half.” He glanced at the male with her. Rolofo. She’d dumped him when she started up with Charlie. The elf had obviously accepted her dabbling in human flesh - though his dark expression made it clear he had not forgiven Charlie. Such lingering animosity didn’t make much sense - after all, he’d ended up back with Alicia. “You’re looking well.”
She glanced down and then smirked. “And you’re looking horny. Always my Oolca, aren’t you?”
Charlie’s cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment as laughter broke out among the patrons. When she’d first called him that, she’d said it was Elvish for ‘Stallion.’ There had been chuckles then, too, but he’d always thought the humor good-natured. It wasn’t until they broke up that he discovered that while Oolca was sometimes a term for stallion – it actually referred to a dumb beast used only for sex.
He forced himself to return a cold smile of his own. “No. I’m a lot more particular these days – I didn’t have any standards back then. Any traska would do.” Traska was Elvish for ‘bitch in heat.’ Charlie –almost- regretted saying it – as far as he could tell, he was the only human in the place.
A hush fell over the bar as Alicia’s fingers clenched. However, it was Rolofo who surged forward with a snarl. “You dare?!” The male grabbed Charlie’s throat and hoisted him kicking off the stool with a strength that belied his frail-looking physique.
“Watch it, Rolofo!” The barkeep, a flat-nosed orc, hissed from behind the counter as he watched Charlie struggle. “Human or not, he’s law enforcement. Remember the treaty!”
“The uniform is all that makes him a cop!” The elf’s eyes narrowed. “Underneath he’s all oolca!” He spat the last word, then followed up with a tirade of Elvish that ended with a blinding blue-white flash of light and heat. The struggling human had only a moment to register the fact that he was suddenly naked before Rolofo tossed him to the floor.
Stunned, Charlie just barely had enough wits remaining to know he was in deep shit. Rolofo was an elven mage! Although powerless outside the Fae, there was almost nothing one of the magic users could not do on their home turf. Such as the Black Unicorn Bar.
“Don’t waste time on him.” Alicia’s voice broke the silence. “Just get him out of here. The stench is taking my appetite.”
“Oh, I’m done.” Rolofo sounded smug. “Would someone remove this oolca? I don’t think animals are allowed.”
Charlie was hoisted suddenly between two elves and half-dragged and half-carried outside, where he was unceremoniously dumped in the street. The volunteer bouncers looked at him a moment, and after some nervous whispering, took off down the street rather than returning to their drinks.
Gathering enough strength to stand, he staggered across the street to an alley. Rolofo appeared to be satisfied with leaving Charlie stranded in the Fae stark naked and alone. However, there was no point in hanging around in case the mage decided to follow up with more.
Well, not quite naked. Rolofo had left his Sam Browne belt and holster intact, though the gun itself was gone. Everything else was gone, actually, even his leather shoes. Why leave the gun harness? Certainly not for any considerations of modesty. Not that Charlie could make sense of anything at the moment. The magic blast had rattled him so badly he still couldn’t clear his head. He needed to find some clothes and then make his way out of the Fae.
Taking a moment to check himself out, Charlie felt a touch of relief. Except for being naked, he couldn’t find any sign of alteration. The elf could have just as easily aged him 50 years or turned him into a potted plant. And though magic did not exist outside the Fae, results of spells remained very real and very permanent. If all he suffered from this experience was humiliation and the cost of a new uniform, he would count his blessings and never enter the Fae again.
Even in the better parts of the magic realm, humans were more tolerated than accepted by most. And the Black Unicorn was hardly in the better part. He had to travel the equivalent of four city blocks to get back to the border, and even then he’d probably have to go another three of four blocks through human slums to get help. Naked.
Damn! Charlie shook his head and rubbed his temples. He’d never experienced a direct magical attack before. The aftereffects supposedly lingered a while, so he wasn’t terribly concerned. Being muddled like this wasn’t helping him deal with the problems, however. He didn’t feel bad – it was more like the thickheaded sensation he had when he first woke up in the morning.
Waiting around was not a good idea. Besides, the gas-lit streets were dark and mostly empty. If he had to streak through Fae to get home, this was the best time. Edging out to the corner, he glanced out to see if the street was clear, took a deep breath, and then stepped out. Straight in front of a large hobgoblin.
The green-skinned creature gave a hiss and jumped back. Then it scowled and muttered something as it gave Charlie a wide berth and continued on as if seeing a nude human was an everyday occurrence. Granted, there were a lot of strange things wandering around Fae – maybe he wouldn’t attract as much attention as he thought.
Mustering as much dignity as he could manage wearing only the Sam Browne, Charlie started for the border at a brisk walk. The next two encounters were somewhat different, but still not what he would have expected. A couple of young orc males shouted something at him and actually shoved him off the sidewalk. Shortly after that, a minotaur chased him into the street with a loud bellow. The message was clear, and once Charlie elected to remain on the muddy road he was mostly ignored by the few creatures he came across.
He didn’t want to think about the condition of his feet. A good part of the ‘mud’ was made up of manure. Since technology didn’t work here, mules, horses, and oxen – even the occasional centaur or minotaur – took the place of internal combustion engines and electric motors. Animals were common even on the human side of the border, as the actual magic/technology barrier tended to shift around a little.
A few teams were out tonight, some watching him curiously as he trudged by, other whickering or braying. Their masters were busy loading or unloading packages and barely gave him notice, except for one silver-haired elf who stared at him a moment, then whistled and clapped his hands as if calling a dog. Charlie ignored the insult, not wanting to give the bastard a reaction, and picked up his pace when he saw the elf start to follow.
Damn! How long did it take to walk four blocks? He frowned, trying to find a familiar landmark. The buildings in Fae changed around a lot – a vegetable stand could become a three-story bookstore with a couple of incantations. Even so, he had to have been slogging through the streets for more than an hour. Where was the border?
There was a small donkey cart approaching, carrying a portly dwarf and what appeared to be a stack of casks. Acutely aware of his appearance, Charlie waved him down in hopes of getting some directions. The dwarf looked puzzled, but stopped alongside and grunted something in his own language.
Charlie started to ask where the border was, only to stop with eyes wide when he heard his own voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again. No matter what he tried to say, all that reached his ears was the distinct neighing of a horse.
To add to Charlie’s bewilderment, the dwarf showed no sign of amusement or surprise. Instead, he climbed down from the cart and reached up to pull on the Sam Browne. Frowning, the dwarf ran his hands over the leather, as if looking for something. Then he went back to the cart, rummaged under the seat, and produced a battered set of leather straps that matched those on the donkey’s head.
With a very equine squeal of rage, Charlie jerked away from the dwarf and took off down the dark street. The muck pulled at his feet, and he stumbled and fell forward, just barely managing to avoid a face-plant by catching himself with his outstretched arms. Struggling back up, he stumbled off into a side street in hopes of losing the dwarf, only to find himself in a dead end alleyway.
What the Hell had Rolofo done to him? Charlie’s wits weren’t dulled enough to keep him from being terrified. Further experimentation confirmed that his vocalizations were equine. And he realized that his Sam Browne had altered subtly over the past few hours as well. The holster was gone, and its black leather straps had thinned out and shifted to a more symmetrical arrangement. He blinked, dimly recognizing the overall design. The donkey he had just seen had one almost identical – a carriage harness.
He fumbled with the straps, trying to undo tarnished brass buckles that had appeared in new locations. It was hard to work his fingers with the drying mud from his fall, and he tried rubbing the black stuff off. Some of the heavy lumps broke free, but both hands remained dark and thick. He stared at the stiff digits – weren’t there supposed to be more than two on each hand?
Charlie suddenly looked down at his feet and discovered that they had lost all definition. No, that wasn’t quite true. The black, muddy lumps at the ends of his legs did have a recognizable shape – like his voice, fully equine. Or more accurately, fully oolca. Rolofo had revenged himself on Charlie by turning Alicia’s insult into reality.
The realization seemed to speed up the process, for he felt and saw his legs lengthen and alter shape. He had to find help, let someone see him, know what was happening. Another mage might be able to reverse the spell, or at least reduce the impact. Turning back to the main street, he took a couple of steps. Then muscles and bones in his back suddenly swelled, and the increased weight threw him off balance. Once again, he caught himself with his arms. Only this time they pushed out from the ground, becoming rounder and furred.
Movement from the mouth of the alley caught his eye, and he saw the dwarf approaching cautiously. He screamed for help, making a loud squeal that echoed against the stone walls. Vision was blurring, and the alley seemed to slowly split into two. Despite being bent over, he was looking down at the dwarf from a point even higher than he had when he had been standing on two legs. The stench of the alley magnified in flaring nostrils, and he felt his ears lay flat against his skull.
The dwarf was still carrying the bridle, making soothing sounds as he edged closer. It was as if he were trying to capture a loose animal, as if he wasn’t aware of the transformation that was even now twisting the last remnants of Officer Charles Andrew Sutter into a very large and very frightened oolca. And then it hit him – the orcs, the minotaur, even the other animals on the street. All had seen him as a normal horse from the time he had been thrown out of the Black Unicorn. Except that what might have been illusion then was now hard reality.
Movement startled him, and he reared back instinctively as the dwarf tried to throw the harness on him. Hit by too many new sensations and thoughts to deal with at once, Charlie bolted past the startled dwarf and galloped out of the alley, a frightened animal running on pure instinct.
The dream started out so hazy and confused that he wasn’t sure what was supposed to be going on. Even when the vague impressions started to focus in a bit, they were more smells and sounds than the disjointed images he was used to. Sweat and urine, creaking wood and people speaking gibberish, sensations of strength and mass, but also of being tired and bored.
After what seemed like a very long time, the blurred shapes around him began to look familiar. He was moving through different parts of the borderlands, wandering from human to Fae and back again. A dark shape was always beside him, the presence somehow comforting. He struggled to understand the meaning of this weird nightmare as it dragged on and on. Sometimes things were clearer, other times he seemed to drift back into a pleasant stupor.
The flies were really bad today. He could feel them crawling around his eyes and nose, biting his skin. Damn it! Most people dreamed about beautiful blondes and fast sports cars - why was he stuck with flies and the stink of piss and manure? Annoyance had been building for a long time, and now he was fed up. He wanted to wake up, now! These damned flies hurt, and…
Pain in a dream? A fly was mining for blood in the middle of his back. The unpleasant sensation provided a focal point that kept Charlie from sliding back into the dull fog that kept trying to reclaim him. Struggling against the curious mental lethargy, he found himself falling deeper into the dream instead of waking up from it. Blurred surroundings focused into a wooden stall with soiled straw on the floor and a bucket of scummy water in the corner.
Charlie shifted uncomfortably, snorting to clear insects from a nose that was way too far away from his face. This place should be strange to him, yet he knew it like his own apartment. A nagging suspicion began to build in the back of his mind - there was too much detail, too much familiarity. Too much of him. Memory of the Black Unicorn returned suddenly, and he twisted his head around suddenly as the awful truth hit him with four very large and heavy hooves. This was not a dream, and he was a horse.
A hard as it was to accept being an animal, Charlie felt an even greater fear over the endless images and sensations he now realized were perceptions of his equine mind. How long had he been a horse? It was difficult to pin down the concept of time, but his memories included many long periods of cold and heat. Winters and summers? If that was true, then years had passed since Rolofo had cursed him into life as an oolca. A decade might have passed, perhaps two How long did horses live? Had he woken only to experience old age and death as a beast?
He didn’t feel old. At least, nothing hurt except for the damned flies. The sensations of his body were actually quite pleasant. Powerful muscles rippled when he moved, and the solid feel of his hooves against the ground spoke of great mass and weight. His heart beat strong and loud, and he breathed easily. Even the male scent that part of his mind identified as ‘self’ was healthy.
This self-evaluation was interrupted by noises outside of his stall. Instead of being alarmed, Charlie felt a surge of anticipation and whickered happily as he stuck his head over the stall gate. There were many scents here, belonging to the other animals that peered from their own stalls up and down the dark building. Two figures were moving from stall to stall with buckets, talking to each other in what sounded like Elvish.
Charlie’s mouth watered, and he shuffled impatiently. Finally, a slender elven girl came to his gate, spouting cheerful gibberish. Although he didn’t understand a word, it seemed that she was directing at least some of her conversation at him. She patted his muzzle affectionately and then opened the gate to dump a bucket of grain in his trough. Like the stall and his equine form, her voice and scent carried the impression of long familiarity.
Charlie found that equine desires were overpowering. It wasn’t that he was being forced against his will - eating just became the thing to do. There was a curious awareness of his mental state dropping to a simpler, fully bestial level. Control did not return until he was snuffling the bottom of the empty container for a missed morsel.
Jerking his head up from the trough, Charlie snorted and tried to make sense of things. Apparently his mind was not as free of the oolca curse as he had hoped. Not that he understood why he had regained any sentience at all - after what must be long years of being completely animal, why had he awoken? Did spells wear off? That didn’t seem likely - anything transformed in Fae remained transformed even when moved into the totally non-magical human sectors.
The girl returned, this time with an odd-looking wooden rake. She put the tool aside and opened the gate, then reached up and took hold of a leather bridle that he hadn’t even been aware of. Following automatically, he let her lead him to an empty stall across the stable that smelled of gelding, then watched as she entered his stall and started tossing the thick straw bedding to sort out large clumps of manure.
His manure. Charlie would have blushed if he still could. Sure, he knew that he was a horse and horses normally did such things. However, he had enough memory of human dignity to feel embarrassed - especially when he felt his penis drop to mark this new stall. As before, there was no way to stop himself - indeed, he barely understood why he felt ashamed until his bladder was empty and the air was filled with his scent.
When the girl came to retrieve him, she rolled her eyes and muttered something, then sighed and took him back to his own stall. Enough of his scent remained to keep the space comfortable, and he absently snuffled around the grain bin as she shut the gate and moved on.
He’d only been back a few minutes before a cheerful new voice caught his ears triggered anticipation again, this time joined by a curious combination of possessiveness and subservience. The owner was a dark-haired wood elf who rattled Charlie’s gate and shouted something as he walked by. Like the girl, Charlie felt an immediate long-term connection. Yet there was much more than that. The closest thing he could think of was a sense of family.
Sticking his head out, Charlie watched the elf enter the stall next to his and felt a twinge of jealousy that he couldn’t quite understand. A long one-sided conversation ended with the jingle of metal, and the elf emerged leading a dark gelding whose scent also conveyed an impression of belonging. This was the comforting dark shape from his dreams. His team-mate.
Then it was Charlie’s turn. The elf came in and checked him over thoroughly, and gave him a quick grooming that felt rather good. A panel in the side wall opened to reveal two sets of leather straps that matched those already worn by the gelding. One was obviously well-worn with age, the other appeared fairly new. The elf plucked the newer harness off its hook and began positioning it on Charlie’s back.
Twisting his head around, Charlie stared at the older straps. There was no way to tell for sure, but he was certain they were his transformed belt and holster. While he was no expert on tack, he did know leather. That harness had seen many years of hard use. Which brought him back to his original question – how long had he been a horse?
Tacking up was an ingrained ritual, as was being taken outside and hooked up to a large cargo wagon. Charlie took dubious satisfaction from the knowledge Rolofo hadn’t been completely successful. He was now a working animal, not an oolca. However, his new memories included enough images of mare’s backs to confirm that he was no gelding, either.
Unlike the big animal alongside him. His team mate snuffled and lipped at him gently, and Charlie found himself returning the gestures absently as the elf hooked them up. There was obviously no sexual conflict involved, though Charlie had some vague memories of establishing dominance. Even so, there was more apparent affection between them than Charlie had felt for any of the females he had covered. What memories he had of mares indicated they were merely an outlet for a stallion’s needs.
Surprisingly, he didn’t mind working as a horse. Even as the wagon gained weight during the day, Charlie found himself drifting into a grudging contentment. It wasn’t always pleasant, but plodding through the streets of the border area with the wooden wheels creaking behind him was satisfying – he felt complete.
“Good Morning, Daniel.”
Charlie was so used to ignoring the babble of elves, orcs, and other creatures around him that he almost missed the first English greeting. The speaker was a heavyset older human with pale hair and thick glasses. Both Charlie and his teammate snuffled the man expectantly – memory told him that the man usually had a treat of some sort for them. Sure enough, carrot chunks appeared in both hands, and Charlie lipped his up greedily. The human patted their necks. “There ya’ go, boys. So, what do you have for me today, Liam?”
“Four casks of Dwarven Ale, and a case of ’98 White Clover.”
“Twenty-five year-old Clover Wine - where did you steal that?” Daniel chuckled. “Never mind, you pointy-eared thief. I don’t want to know. Any more than I want to know what it’s gonna cost me.”
“What does it matter? You’ll charge double whatever you pay me and still water it down! So who’s the thief?” The wagon creaked as Liam climbed down. “Come on. You can help me unload.”
Charlie tried to follow the good-natured banter, but got distracted by other sights and sounds. They were in the human sector now, somewhere on the East side. It looked like Fairview Street, but where was the old warehouse? He lifted his head to see over his teammate. There was a storage building there, but it was obviously not very old. Memories seemed a little clearer now, and he checked a few doors down. Sure enough, Patty’s Floral Shop was still there. He used to buy the pink and white Boudreaux roses that Alicia liked there.
As often as he must have walked this street as a horse, this was the first time he was aware of his surroundings. Some of the clothing styles were odd - most of the shirts and blouses were sleeveless, and more than half the males wore Indian-style headbands. He was surprised to note greater mixing of humans and non-humans. There had always been some interaction, but now it appeared that the creatures of the Fae and humanity had learned to accept each other as equals. Bet that didn’t sit well with the pompous Drow elves, like Rolofo and Alicia.
Liam climbed back up into the wagon, his business apparently done here. They continued down the street, stopping off at two other taverns before turning back to Fae. Thanks to some other conversations, he gathered that he was named Ghost, and his dark teammate was Morris. They were apparently well known in the area, with children and even some adults coming up to offer them a bit of apple or carrot. In truth, Charlie found the day quite pleasant. The two horses were more than a match for their load, which actually lighted considerably as the day progressed. Combined with the attention and treats, he didn’t mind being a horse at all.
Still, something about that first conversation between their Master and Daniel nagged at Charlie off and on, but it wasn’t until they had started back to the Fae that he realized what it was. The clover wine - a 1998 vintage that was a quarter-century old. Although thoughts were getting a little muddled as they approached the Fae, the math was simple enough for him to work out. Charlie felt a cold lump in his equine gut. He had been a horse for eighteen years!
The realization hit him harder than he expected. It had been pretty obvious that his equine memories covered a long period - but nearly two decades? His parents were elderly now, if they were even still alive. The new baby his sister had been expecting would be in college, never having met Uncle Charlie. To everyone he knew - friends, family, coworkers - Charles Andrew Sutter was nothing more than a dim memory.
For the first time, Charlie understood the enormity of what Rolofo had done to him. Instead of a wife and kids, maybe a grandchild or two, Charlie had sired a few dozen nameless foals. And what should have been a meaningful career on the force with retirement close enough to plan for had been traded for mindless servitude as a beast of burden. God! All it had taken was a few carrot chunks and a pat on the neck to make being a horse acceptable – simple pleasures already fading into the blur of impressions that represented almost two decades of his life.
It was more than just the memories of today fading. They were inside the Fae now, and magic was trying to dull thoughts to match his body. How many times had he awoken from the imposed equine mindset, only to have awareness reburied? A dozen? A hundred? Was this something he went through daily?
Charlie felt despair. His identity was fading away - the only clear image in his mind now was of Rolofo. He focused on that sneering face as comprehension closed in, until all that was left was a smoldering ember of hatred buried in a horse’s mind.
As the days passed, however, Charlie began to realize that he was awakening sooner, and human thought was lasting longer. The magic still pulled at him, but resisting its effects got easier. He was fully alert outside the Fae now, and even retained hazy awareness when he was in his stall.
Curiously, being a horse was as natural to Charlie Sutter as it was to Ghost. Though he was angry over the life that had been stolen from him, he couldn’t actually imagine himself as a human any more. His past was much clearer now, but while images of family and friends appeared mostly normal, his own participation in events was distorted to fit in as an animal.
A memory of blowing out candles on his tenth birthday cake was joined by another of giving rides to the guests. The old Jeep that had been his first car somehow acquired a trailer hitch and horse transport. Even his years on the force now combined polishing his Sam Browne belt and holster to a high shine call and wearing the harness it had become as he plodded down the street under one of the mounted police. He was aware of the wrongness, knew that he should have been one of the soft, almost hairless two-legged creatures that populated his past. Yet no trace of a human Charlie Sutter would come to mind. And that only fueled his hatred even more.
His anger began to surface in the form of irritation with little things – snapping at strangers who tried to pet him, and balking at Liam’s commands. The surly attitude drew comment and concern from Liam, and also served to reduce the number of treats and kind words he and his teammate received during the day. And after a well-intentioned attempt by Morris to comfort whatever was ailing him earned the gelding a painful bruise from Charlie’s hooves, even turnout was a lonely, dismal time.
To his credit, Liam did everything he could to discover what was bothering Charlie. The elf checked him carefully for injuries, changed his feed at least a half-dozen times, had him re-shoed, and took him to animals specialists on both sides of the border. While he appreciated his Master’s concern, Charlie could not lift himself out of the black depression.
Things didn’t come to a head, however, until the following week. They were making deliveries in the border areas, which had cut deeper into Fae territory over the past two decades. Shops that Charlie remembered being well within the border now sported neon signs that occasionally flared to life as the boundary wavered between science and magic. At the same time, he had begun to notice small enchantments, such as the glowing jewelry that elves preferred, continued to function in the same area. The once rigid borders between technology and fae were breaking down.
He was standing sullenly in the traces with Morris waiting for Liam to unload casks, as a group of elves and humans came out of the front. Something about two of the elves felt familiar, and he glanced up at the faded sign over the door. Then lifted his head and looked closer. Although he could not read the lettering, there was no mistaking the stallion-like creature depicted. The Black Unicorn Bar.
At the same moment, two other elves emerged, stopping just short of the group. Charlie stared at them, unable to make out enough detail to be sure - until the female spoke. “Go on, you drunken louts.” It was Alicia. “The Councilor of Fae shouldn’t be seen in such bad company.” Her tone was humorous, yet Charlie recognized her cold disgust behind it. He also recognized the tall, dark-haired elf at her side. Rolofo.
With a scream of rage, he lunged forward, only to be held back by the weight of the wagon and his confused team mate. There were shouts from Liam as he lunged again, then reared up with hooves flailing at the air. His harness loosened suddenly as overstressed buckles and leather broke apart, and he coiled himself to tear free – only to lock up automatically as Liam threw himself at Charlie’s neck. Unable to charge without injuring his Master, Charlie could only scream his frustration at Rolofo. The elf’s startled expression changed to a dark scowl of anger before he and Alicia hurried to join their companions and were swallowed up in the crowd.
“Ghost, you idiot beast!” Liam was panting, arms still locked about Charlie’s throat. “Are you that anxious to be put down?” His Master was looking fearfully at the crowd, then spoke in soothing tones. Unfortunately, he had also reverted back to Elvish. Still, with the hated mage gone and Liam’s firm hand and voice working to calm him, Charlie felt his anger trickle down. His Master stiffened and exclaimed an equivalent to “Oh, Shit,” then moved suddenly to adjust the torn carriage straps back into position.
The cause of Liam’s concern was immediately obvious. Two Orcs in Sentinel uniforms, Fae equivalents of his former position in life, were moving quickly towards them. One already had his crossbow set and ready, and people were rapidly clearing the area around the wagon. Charlie’s pounding heart suddenly leapt into his throat – there was no mistaking the purposeful look and loaded weapon – they were coming to put a dangerous animal to death!
The lead Orc grunted something in a loud and authoritative manner, making a sweeping gesture with one scaly hand. It was clear he wanted Liam to stand aside. Instead, the elf frowned and made a good show feigning bewilderment at their intent. An argument started, frustrating Charlie because he couldn’t understand a word. However, it was quickly obvious that Liam was not going to win.
“Greetings, Officers!” A cheerful voice broke into the verbal exchange, and all parties turned to see a large, bearded human striding up. Charlie recognized the voice and scent immediately. It was Daniel! “Liam! What did you do this time? Water down the booze for the Policeman’s Ball?”
“Stay out of this, human!” The lead Orc scowled. “We have a public menace to destroy!”
Daniel scoffed. “Public menace? Don’t be ridiculous! These horses are as gentle as baby lambs! I’ve known them for years!” To make his point, he reached up to rub Charlie’s chin, then stepped up close and patted his neck.
“That one just tried to attack Fae Councilor Rolofo!” The Orc holding the crossbow pointed at Charlie. “There were a dozen witnesses!”
“I was a witness as well.” Daniel shook his head. “A damned mangy stray cat jumped up on him while Liam unloaded – must have scared the poor beast to death!”
“The Councilor said he was attacked!” The Orc didn’t seem to be swallowing Daniel’s lie.
“Look at the horses, Sentinel!” Liam jumped into the fray now. “Calm and peaceful as they can be! And just how could Ghost have attacked the Councilor? He is strapped into the harness – not to mention a good hundred feet from the door. The old fella must have reacted to the cat, and the esteemed Councilor mistook the sudden movement for an attack. Besides, why would a horse go after Rolofo? Surely you can see this has all been a simple mistake!”
The human stroking him moved closer, and Charlie realized that Daniel was trying to block the Orc’s view of the broken straps. “I’m sure you are simply trying to protect the public, Sentinel. However, we don’t want to let an error in judgment on the part of the Councilor end up becoming an inquiry in front of your Commander, do we? I’m sure the compensation costs would be rather high – this is a valuable work animal.” The lead Orc scowled, but the other lowered his crossbow. While Charlie’s life meant nothing to them, the prospect of having to pay Liam damages if it was determined they acted incorrectly was obviously a worry.
“I will make a full explanation to Rolofo myself.” Liam smiled. “Besides, I am sure he would not want an ugly incident while he is in the middle of his campaign. Why, if this simple mistake was allowed to go too far, there is no telling what the opposition would make of it. And just think how unhappy that would make the Councilor.”
Fear flickered across the lead Orc’s eyes, and he looked back at his partner, who nodded. Turning back, he gave Liam, Danial, and Charlie a hard look, and then snorted. “Very well.” Reaching out, he grabbed Charlie’s bridle and stared at the side. “Registration number 87492 Silversmith District. I’ll make it a warning for now.” Then his eyes narrowed and he growled, “But if this animal so much as take a piss within a hundred yards of the Councilor in the future, I’ll put a bolt though its skull myself. Do you understand?”
“Certainly, Sentinel!” Liam bowed his head slightly, the relief evident in his voice. “I will make every effort to keep him clear of Rolofo. In fact, I’ll avoid this street entirely.”
“You do that.” With a final glare at Daniel, the lead Orc spun and strode back towards Fae, followed closely by Charlie’s would-be executioner.
Liam sagged against Charlie’s side. “I owe you for that, Daniel. Thank you.”
“Oh, throw an extra cask in my next order and we’ll call it square.” The human patted Charlie’s neck. “Wonder why this old boy hates Rolofo so much? Not that I care much for the bastard’s holier-than-human attitudes, but Ghost was out for blood!”
“What?!” Liam sounded flustered. “But you said…”
“I lied. Hell, I’ve never seen man nor beast so intent on getting at a person in my life. The only reason he stopped was to keep from hurting you. Has he ever shown aggression like this before?”
“Never!” Lieam hesitated. “Well, you know he’s been in a sour mood lately. Even kicked Morris a couple of times, and they’ve been herd mates for most of their lives. Something’s bothering him, but nobody can figure out what. I’ve had him looked at by the local animagus, even took him over for a visit to a human vet.” He snorted. “Big help they were. Both said I had to be mistaken about Ghost’s age – he wasn’t a day over eight. I’ve owned him for more than 15 years, and he wasn’t a colt when I got him!”
“He’s a fine piece of horseflesh. Besides, I bet he’s sneaking in a hairdresser to color the gray in his coat. Right, fella?” Daniel patted Charlie’s neck again and then stepped back. “Well, something is funny here. Even if Ghost was going after Rolofo, he never got free of the traces. And a show of temper is not justification for destroying an animal. Watch yourself, Liam. These are tense times.”
“Tell me about it.” Liam sighed and started knotting damaged strap ends. “As much trouble as the border has been, I liked it better when magic and technology didn’t mix. It’s screwing everything up. I lost a full barrel of Dwarven ale last week when an old magical patch failed.”
“I know the feeling. Our freezer quit working Monday night – ruined fifty pounds of eel steaks. Turns out I’ve got a new band of Fae extending all the way past the Tavern – had to get the damned compressor charmed so it would work again.”
There was a short silence as Liam finished his makeshift repairs. Then Liam sighed. “I’m going to take these two home. Thanks again, Daniel. I’ll make it two casks!”
Charlie whuffled deep in his throat, and nuzzled the human’s shoulder as gently as he could. He was just now getting over the shock of how close he’d come to a violent end, and life as a horse beat death in any form he knew of. Both Daniel and Liam looked at him oddly, then the human chuckled and stroked Charlie’s muzzle. “You’re both welcome. See you next week.” With that, he turned and headed back towards the human sector.
The trip home was slow and twisting. Liam walked them all the way, taking back roads and alleys, never once letting go of Charlie’s bridle. Only when the two horses were in the stable itself and the door was secured did the elf let go. He unhitched Morris first and led the gelding into his stall. Feeling guilty over the trouble he had caused, Charlie waited patiently in the traces as his Master filled Morris’ water and feed bins, and checked him over for injuries. Finally, Liam emerged and started removing the damaged harness from Charlie’s back.
The elf was talking to him, with nothing intelligible until the name ‘Rolofo’ made Charlie’s ears perk up. What was Liam saying? His tone wasn’t scolding, so it probably wasn’t a lecture on the stupidity of antagonizing a mage. Not that Charlie needed a reminder - if he’d broken free of the harness and charged, Rodolfo would have probably incinerated him before he got halfway to his target. God, what had he been thinking?
It was the shock of seeing the bastard still arm-in-arm with Alicia, after weeks of agonizing over his own four-legged fate. Funny thing was, after coming so close to getting a crossbow bolt through his skull, he was suddenly appreciating what he had. However old he was now, he had great strength and good health. His Master was a responsible owner - more than that - a kind and considerate person who treated his animals well. Charlie had seen enough malnourished mules and horses struggling to pull overloaded wagons to know how lucky he and Morris were.
A thought of the gelding made him hang his head in shame. His teammate had no way to understand why his only friend had turned on him. The patient, hard-working beast had been his co-worker, companion, his family for a very long time. Even now, Morris had his head over the stall gate, watching as their Master checked Charlie over for injuries.
Which he found. As gentle as Liam’s fingers were, Charlie winced at bruises and cuts caused by his violent lunges. They served notice that big and powerful as this equine form was, it wasn’t immune to injury, illness, or death. That last might be a lot closer than it should be for someone who was theoretically in his early forties, but it hadn’t claimed him yet.
In truth, there was nothing he could do to change things. What little he remembered about major transformations indicated that even the mage couldn’t restore him. And lacking voice and hands, there was no way for Charlie to ask for justice. The only realistic revenge he could achieve was enjoying this life as best he could. Every moment of pleasure defied Rolofo’s intent, each day he found joy in being a horse was a day he spit in the bastard’s face.
Liam finished dressing the scrapes, and led Charlie to his stall. Still babbling on in Elvish, it sounded like his Master was holding a one-sided interrogation, pausing every now and then as if he expected an answer. The only word that meant anything was the mage’s hated name, and Charlie found the smell of fresh grain and water enough to distract him from even that. After watching him a few minutes, the elf sighed and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Charlie was almost through with his meal before he realized awareness was not diminished tonight. For the first time that he could remember, his thoughts were as clear here in his stall as if he were outside the Fae. Had his rage somehow burned away the fog for good? Or just pushed it back further than usual, delaying the murky thought a few hours? Maybe it didn’t matter. He contemplated his empty grain bin. The past fifteen years might be a blur, but it was a blur of contentment. What was so bad about that?
Councilor Rolofo. That was the biggest fly in Charlie’s ointment. He could survive like this, even find some happiness in the life that the mage had forced on him. But not while that rat-bastard enjoyed power and prestige. How many others had Rolofo destroyed? Charlie doubted he was the only one - the mage had been too quick with the spell, too certain of the outcome. But he was also doubted that those behind Rolofo’s rise to power would support him if his illegal transformations came to light. Unless there had been a major change since Charlie was cursed, such actions were considered the same as murder, and specifically covered in the primary Human/Fae Treaties.
He gave a deep, shuddering sigh. It was a bitter pill he had to swallow. Today’s fiasco had showed him the way of the world. Rolofo was now a political leader who could order the Sentinels to do his bidding. Charlie was an animal, with no voice, no hands, and no rights.
Despite his resolve to make the most of things out of spite, the evening bore heavily on him. Some over-the-gate nuzzling with Morris helped - the gelding seemed to bear no grudge for his mistreatment. After a while, he allowed himself to relax and drift towards slumber.
“Human.” Liam’s voice startled him fully awake. The elf had come into the stable quietly, and was staring at him over the stall gate. “You were human, and Rodolfo made you a horse, didn’t he? Can you understand me?”
Amazed, Charlie whickered enthusiastically, but realized immediately that his Master needed more than normal horse sounds. Locking eyes with the elf, he slowly raised and lowered his head in a distinct nod.
Liam’s eyes widened, and he swore in Elvish. “Daniel had it pegged. Curse me for a fool - I should have guessed before now. The Dwarf I bought you from had no registration number, even though you were prime stock. And you aren’t aging like a normal horse. But why did you wait…?” He frowned a moment, then brightened. “The merging! Old spells are breaking down. Magic alters the body, but can only bind the soul. You didn’t know before, did you?”
This time, Charlie swung his head from side to side. It was frustrating being unable to talk, but Liam seemed to have guessed the bulk of the situation.
“Who were you? A business partner?” His master stepped to the gate and peered at him intently. “A political rival?”
“No - just an idiot.”
They both started as a tall, dark-haired figure stepped from the shadows by the open main door. Rolofo stared directly at Charlie with a cold smile. “He was a human police officer who called my wife a traska. I made the mistake of thinking I was done with him eighteen years ago. A mistake that is easily remedied.” The mage dropped his gaze to Liam. “It is best for you to leave.”
Although Charlie could smell his Master’s fear, the elf squared his shoulders and remained where he was. “Surely he has paid a high enough price for insulting your wife! He has no voice, no hands. At least allow him whatever life he has left as a beast of burden!”
Rolofo’s eyes narrowed. “He has already enjoyed a far longer life than I intended for him. Don’t worry. I will compensate you for the animal.”
“Ghost is not an animal!” Liam’s voice was angry. “You’ve already admitted that much.”
Charlie felt real fear now, but not just for himself. His Master apparently didn’t recognize the risk he was taking. Granted, it would be unthinkable for most elven mages to use deadly force against one of their own kind - but Rolofo was not most mages. The bastard didn’t care who he hurt.
“He is, and always was, an oolca. A human in form only. You need to think very hard about where your loyalties should be. He is a horse. I am the Elven Councilor.”
“A Councilor who broke one of the most sacred rules of the Treaty over a verbal insult!” Liam either did not pick up the threat, or was ignoring it. “When that Orc Sentinel got roughed up by some humans last year, you were the one who demanded maximum punishment. Tell me, you hypocrite! What is the maximum punishment for total transformation?”
Charlie saw the decision in Rolofo’s eyes, and screamed a warning as he threw himself against the stall gate. Unfortunately, the locking bolt was solid enough to withstand the impact, and his lunge only distracted the mage a moment. A too-familiar tirade of Elvish filled the air, ending with a blinding blue-white flash of light and heat that left Liam stunned and naked on the floor. A shimmering fog swirled around him, already taking the shape of a large horse.
The mage sneered at the changing elf. “The same as it is for transforming traitors to their own kind! So join him, oolca! And I have improved my spells over the years. You’ll think and age just like the beast you are becoming, unlike this abomination.”
Cold fear gripped Charlie’s heart and squeezed as Rolofo turned cold gray eyes on him. “I have suffered humiliation and abased myself for almost fifteen years to get where I am now. Years of kissing up to human scum, pretending to accept meaningless, pathetic fools as equals. The time is almost right for me to seize power, and suddenly there you are screaming at me from the square!” The mage balled his fists tightly. “I will not be cheated of my due by a troublesome oolca!”
There was a moan from the ground as Liam tried to stand. Rolofo glanced down at him, and then looked back at Charlie with a smile. “It appears that your former Master will need a stall soon. Let’s see what we can do about vacating yours.”
Charlie backed up until his rump banged into the back wall, eyes white and ears back. There was no place to run, no place to hide. Even now, he could smell the difference in Liam’s scent - less elf and more stallion. Soon the elf would be an animal, and Charlie would be dead. And Rolofo would get away with it all!
“Something simple, I think.” The mage rubbed his fingertips together. “The initial spell must have accidentally locked your age - you should be a very old horse now. A minor adjustment to unlock things.” He muttered something in Elvish, and Charlie felt a flicker of heat that faded away. “And now you can start making up for lost time.” Rolofo’s face lit up with anticipation and he muttered a quick spell.
Charlie squealed and shuddered at a painful shock that seared every cell of his body.
“That’s one year gone.” The mage stepped closer and shot another verbal blow. “And two. You’re ten now, Charlie. Still looking good.” He repeated the curse. “Eleven.”
A surge of rage finally cut through the paralyzing fear. The bastard was stripping away Charlie’s life in small chunks, savoring his suffering like a fine wine. Screaming defiance, Charlie threw himself at the gate, this time causing the latch the crack. Rolofo jumped back as he lunged again, this time nearly breaking through.
“Stop!” The mage had one hand pointed threateningly at a confused-looking Clydesdale stallion sprawled on the floor. “He’s a horse now because of you. Do you want to take even that life away from him?”
Panting hard, Charlie looked at the animal that had been Liam. Its scent was fully stallion now, and the liquid brown eyes showed the confusion and fear of a beast. The spell was not only more complete, but faster. Sickened, he sagged against the gate in utter defeat. Rolofo could kill him with a gesture - only his enjoyment of this cruel game had drawn out Charlie’s death. Better to let this torture end, and give Liam a chance for some contentment.
Rolofo sneered in triumph. “What would you have been now, as a human? Forty-three? I think it’s time you looked your age. Though that many years may be just a little harder on a horse. Goodbye, Charlie.” He raised his hand.
“Don’t do it!” This shout came from the dark entrance. The elf spun around suddenly with a string of Elvish, only to get slammed back against the gate by an invisible force. Charlie blinked – a pointed rod was protruding from the back of the door, its end shining with dark liquid. At the same time, Daniel stepped out from the shadows, frantically reloading the crossbow in his hands.
Rolofo stared down at his skewered midsection in apparent disbelief. Then, as Daniel fumbled and dropped the second bolt, the elf straightened and thrust his hand. Charlie threw himself forward in desperation, this time tearing the last hinge apart. Pinned like a butterfly on a collector’s board, the mage was thrown to the ground underneath the heavy door. Charlie reared and slammed down on the gate, splintering wood and bone with his weight. Rage took over, and he continued to trample the helpless mage until his nostrils filled with the sickening stench of blood and bile, and Daniel’s shouts rang in his ears.
“Ghost! Stop it! He’s dead!” The human was trying to keep Liam from bolting. Ears back and eyes wide with panic, the young Clydesdale was backed into the far corner of the stable. “It’s OK, Liam! Easy boy! Come on, old buddy! It’s me! Daniel!”
Still shaking, Charlie backed away from the horror that he had created. Blood was splattered all across the floor, with one of Rolofo’s legs actually completely severed from the body. The elf was dead. More than that – he had been obliterated.
“Shit!” Daniel was stroking the new draft horse’s neck, working to calm it down. “Can’t you understand anything I’m saying, old friend?” There was no response, though Liam had stopped prancing and now stared at the trampled carcass with apprehension. “Damn the bastard to Hell!” He sighed and shook his head, then looked at Charlie. “I hope to God you understand me.”
Charlie nodded his head carefully, then shuffled slowly over to nuzzle the man’s shoulder. Reaching up, Daniel stroked his neck. “Poor Liam. If I’d come straight here, maybe…” His voice trailed off. “No. Without the crossbow, we’d all be dead now and Rolofo would have walked away clean.”
They shared a minute of miserable silence, and then Daniel sighed. “Well, I need to call the Sentinels. And the police. Maybe they can figure out who you were. In the meantime, I need to figure out what the Hell I’m gonna do with three draft horses.”
“Charlie! How are you doing, you old hayburner?” Daniel brought the wagon of casks to a creaking stop so that Morris and Liam would be close enough to sniff and nuzzle him. “Showing this greenhorn the ropes?”
Officer Patrick Martin grinned from Charlie’s back. “Getting fat is what he’s doing. I think it must go with being a cop – I get donuts, and he gets apples and carrots.” The young man had adjusted to having a horse as a partner pretty well, though his rein handling still needed some work.
Once Charlie’s identity had been discovered, the Force had found a spot for him with the mounted patrols. Though he’d been offered a couple of open pastures, Charlie refused to spend his life as an oolca. Besides, he still had ample opportunity to prove his value as a stud, and now he actually got to see and even know some of his offspring.
Daniel climbed down and came over with the expected carrot. “Here ya go, Charlie.” Two other noses immediately thrust forward. “OK! Sheesh!” He fished out two more orange chunks and fed his own horses. “I thought you and Morris were spoiled. Liam is twice as bad!” He rubbed the Clyde’s chin affectionately.
Charlie felt only the slightest twinge of guilt these days when he looked at the former elf. Liam was a happy animal, and if that meant he had no memory of his past to trouble him, that was all to the good. In truth, Charlie sometimes longed for the old days of dull contentment, plodding along with Morris beside him.
But not today. Snorting, he nuzzled Daniel again, then tossed his head to signal Patrick. His wore a saddle instead of a Sam Browne now, but he was still a cop and it was time to walk their beat.
end
Categories: Story | Bob Stein | Equine
