Much to his relief, Jasper didn't have to cross the creepy bridges this time. He soared above them, the brisk wind from the lake at his back, as he silently swooped down toward his friends, landing between them in a flurry of wings. They hadn't seen him coming, and scattered with a shriek before their unexpected attacker Snatching her bow off her mount, Ihra notched an arrow, drawing the string taut, until she saw his face.
"Damn it, Jasper," Ihra lowered her bow with a frown. "I could have shot you."
He grinned sheepishly, scratching his head. "Yeah, I didn't think that all the way through." He flexed the wings, strutting like a model. "Pretty cool, huh?"
She grinned back. "Do you even have to ask?"
Annatta, though, made no attempt to hide her surprise and concern, as she circled around him.
“I've never seen this spell before. What sort of class did you choose?” She asked, as her eyes flicked back and forth between the smoky wings and his face. “Surely you were offered one of the royal family's classes?”
Jasper’s brow creased in thought. “I had…maybe one or two? I think the Heir of Zaginnu was maybe a royal class. Royal Dragoon might have been one too.”
The Djinn's eyes widened. “You had the Heir of Zaginnu and didn’t pick it? That’s one of the best mage classes our House has,” she protested. “Lord S̆arrābī himself took that class when he was your level.”
He shrugged. “The one I chose was better.”
She frowned, clearly skeptical, but she kept her doubts to herself. “So what class did you pick? I’ve never seen wings like that before.” She reached out a hand to touch the smoky feathers, but it fell right through them. “They look a little like a Seraph’s wings. Something from your father’s tribe?”
“Nope,” he shook his head, not bothering to correct her assumption that the Seraph was indeed his father - an assumption he had increasingly come to doubt. “It came from Kas̆dael, I guess. Watchman of Aldāru?” His voice ended on an inquisitive note, as he looked down at her, wondering if she could tell him anything further about the class.
She couldn't. Instead, Annatta's brow furrowed as she gazed up at him. “Watchman? That's normally a type of warrior, a class similar to a guard." Alarm grew in her eyes, and her voice raised. "You are still a mage-“ She trailed off sheepishly as Jasper gestured to his wings. “Ah, yes, obviously you are. It's not the usual kind of watchman, then.”
He shrugged. “No idea. What about Aldāru? Does that ring a bell?” He pressed, curious to learn more about the abandoned city that surrounded Kas̆dael’s temple in the void.
Annatta shook her head distractedly as she continued to examine his wings. “It’s a name for the tomb of the Progenitor, isn’t it? But I never really paid much attention to the priests in school," she admitted. "Anyways, tell me more about this class that's apparently so much better than the Heir of Zaginnu. What archetype does it belong to?”
“I’m honestly not entirely sure,” Jasper confessed. “Is there a name for a pyro- and ectomancer that also rides horses?”
Her eyebrow arched delicately upward. “Ectomancer?” The Djinn repeated the words uncertainly. “What does that mean?”
“Er, maybe that’s not a word around here. Ghosts, specters, that sort of thing,” he explained.
The Djinn nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of shamans that primarily interact with ghosts, and of course, necromancers with the undead…”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “I don’t think it's either of those.”
“Ah, well. I guess we’ll see then.” She smiled predatorily. “I’m sure Lord S̆arrābī will be very eager to learn every detail of your class.”
Jasper hadn’t even considered his “uncle’s” reaction until then, but he frowned as her meaning sunk in. Damn it. The less time I have to spend with him, the better. But he knew there was little point in protesting. He was still unclear exactly what the Djinn and his lord, the king, wanted from him, but he was under no illusion that he had any real choice in the matter. “I’m sure he will,” he agreed dryly. “Can’t tell him what I don’t know, though.”
The wings suddenly dissipated in a cloud of vapor as the spell ended, and he grinned as he remembered one of the perks of the spell. He turned to Ihra. “Bet you wish you could have wings too.”
His friend laughed, her blonde hair flying fast free as she shook her head. “Of course, I would. If I could fly as an archer, warriors wouldn't even be able to touch me. I could just float around the battlefield, raining death down on them - at least until a mage barbequed me. But,” Ihra smirked, “whoever heard of a flying deer? I’m pretty sure that path doesn’t lie in my future.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, and though he felt her stiffen slightly, she didn’t pull away. At least not until the essence passed into her, sending a spasm down her back.
“Ouch! What the-“ Her words fell unspoken as a pair of smokey wings swirled around her. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Can cast it on other people too, even mounts supposedly,” he explained, as he pushed past her to root around in his saddle for the pomegranate Torin had given him.
“Really?” Annatta leaned forward, new interest sparking in her eyes. “You can imbue the spell on others? That’s actually quite an unusual ability. Although,” she glanced down at Ihra’s feet, which were still firmly rooted on the ground. “Can she actually fly with them?”
As if in response, the spectral wings fluttered, lifting Ihra a few feet above the ground to squeals of delight. Grabbing her by the shoulder as well, he cast the spell on Annatta. A pair of spectral wings burst from her back, fluttering back and forth through his chest harmlessly. “Why don’t you try them out?” he suggested.
The pair hesitated, fluttering a few feet off the ground. “Are you sure?” Ihra asked.
He grinned. “Absolutely. I need to evolve Dapplegrim now anyways.” They didn’t need to be told twice, rising rapidly above the trees, though not before Jasper turned back with a word of warning. “Ten minutes!” he shouted. “You’ve got ten minutes before the spell ends. After that - well, you’ll be on the ground one way or another.”
When they had soared out of sight, Jasper finally turned to face his little mount. The pomegranate sat heavy in his hand, and he rolled it between his fingers absentmindedly. The dark red fruit still looked as vibrant and fresh as the day it was picked, and some small corner of his mind practically begged him to eat it. What benefits would it give me? he wondered, but Jasper ignored the selfish impulse, patting Dapplegrim’s sides fondly as he waved the fruit in front of her.
“Well, girl, you ready to level up?”
The small horse sniffed the fruit cautiously, nuzzling his hand rather than snapping it up immediately. “Go on,” he laughed, pushing the pomegranate back toward it. “It’s not going to hurt you; it will help you get big and strong.” His soothing tone reassured her, and snatching the fruit up in its teeth, Dapplegrim quickly gobbled it up.
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For a moment, absolutely nothing happened.
Then the little grey horse collapsed to the ground as spasms wracked its body. Horrified, Jasper dropped to his knees beside her, cradling Dapplegrim’s head as she writhed in the dirt. Her eyes were glassy and dull, her coat glistened with thick sweet, and foamy lather spilled from her mouth. Was the pomegranate poisoned? Confusion, fear, and anger wrestled within him, as he tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. I didn’t mean to kill her.
Then the convulsions stopped, and she lay perfectly still. Is she-? With a shudder, Dapplegrim began to move again, and his fears were quickly put to rest as the little horse's body started to change before his eyes. Selene’s grace, he sighed in relief. It wasn’t poison.
In the course of just a few minutes, her body underwent a complete transformation. Dapplegrim's limbs grew long and thick, until her giant flanks rippled with truly impressive musculature. Her coat, formerly a light mottled grey, deepened in color until it was nearly charcoal, save for a faint dappling of the former color that ran along her back.
Her hooves changed too; the dull keratin was replaced with a substance that gleamed like burnished bronze, and the edges were sharp as knives - sharp enough, even, to slice through Jasper’s toughened skin as he found out to his regret while he did his best to protect the once again spasming horse from hurting herself.
And then it was over. Her sides rose and fell like the crashing of the sea as she gasped for air, her coat was thick with a layer of sweat and dust, and her eyes were shut tight, but she was okay.
Fishing a brush out of his bag, he gently rubbed down whatever parts he could reach, murmuring little reassurances to the now not-so-little horse. When he had finished cleaning one side, the horse finally moved, rising to its feet. Its metallic hooves clanged against the pavement like the beating of drums but Jasper barely noticed it.
All his attention was wholly consumed by the sheer size of his formerly small horse. Jasper clocked in a solid few inches above six feet, but the top of his head didn’t even come close to Dapplegrim’s withers. Her body rippled with unbridled power, and her size was large enough to make a Clydesdale look like her little brother.
That was not all her changes though. Her eyes, which had been closed while he rubbed her down, were now open, glowing ever so softly with an amber light, which when paired with her charcoal-colored skin gave the illusion of smoldering coal. An armored plate covered much of her head, made of the same burnished bronze as her hooves, and he yelped in surprise - and mild pain - when she head-butted him gently, nudging her now massive head against his shoulder. “What do you want, girl?”
She grabbed at his bag with her teeth, and he yanked it away.“Uh-uh. The bag is not for eating. Do you want something in it? Like sugar?” he said, with a sly grin.
Needless to say, Jasper wasn’t actually expecting Dapplegrim to answer him, so a stiff breeze could have knocked him over when she vigorously shook her head back and forth in response. “You understand me? Sugar?" He held out the cubes, but she shook her head again, refusing to accept them. "Not sugar then. What else could you possibly want?" A thought struck him. "You don't want another pomegranate, do you?”
Dapplegrim nodded yes, and Jasper had to laugh. “Sorry, don’t have any more of those.” Her ears drooped in apparent disappointment, and he had to stand on tiptoes to rub her head, as he waved the sugar cubes in front of her again. Dapplegrim might have turned her nose up at them the first time, but with the prospect of another pomegranate again, she lapped the cubes eagerly, with such vim that Jasper was half-afraid she might just take his hand with them.
He was about to reach into his bag for more when his hand froze. She’s changing colors again.
It was certainly not a fast change, but the light gray that dappled her skin slowly blossomed out until it had spread across her entire body. Even her eyes were changed, turning to an almost milky white, although her hooves remained untouched. What the hell? Did the sugar somehow cause that? Or is just part of her new evolution?
As if in answer to his questions, a box popped up above her.
Young Farm Pony → Grimsborken
*normal evolution altered by Selene
A legendary breed on Earth famed for its power, size, and above-average intelligence, the Grimsborken is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Possessed of the peculiar ability to change between two separate forms, the breed has minor talents in earth and fire magic which it may cast independent of its owner’s instructions.
Huh. Breed on earth? As in the fairytale, or was there a real Grimsborken? Jasper had never seen so much as a lick of real magic on the earth, and he certainly hadn’t believed in it. Then again, he had also had absolutely no idea that the game he was playing had been designed by literal gods - the Mwyrani - that had fled from another universe to live on earth or that he himself was part-Djinn, so clearly he hadn't been the most observant. He shelved the question for another time though, as a series of jubilant cries drew his attention.
Turning around, he saw Ihra and Annatta approaching fast. As they hurtled toward the small clearing, the spectral wings beat far too slowly for their speed, swishing through the air without even a whisper of a sound. I guess they paid attention to the time. Or not, he amended as a second later the wings dissipated in a puff of smoke, leaving the two to plunge the last forty feet to the ground.
Ihra rolled to her feet immediately, laughing as she pushed the hair out of her eyes. “That was amazing-” she started up, stopping as she noticed the giant horse standing beside him. “Wow, is that Dapplegrim?”
Jasper beamed as he proudly patted the flank of the horse, unable to easily reach her neck. “Yep, not so small any longer, huh?” The horse nodded its head as if in agreement.
“Nope. I think Keresh might just get a little jealous now,” she grinned. “He was used to being the top dog.”
Annatta joined her a second later, circling around the horse slowly before flashing him a nod of approval. “Truly, this is a mount you won’t need to feel ashamed of.” She attempted to pat the horse, but Dapplegrim shied away from her with a snort, perhaps taking offense at the implication that he should have been ashamed before. With a sigh, the Djinn aborted her attempt to pet her, contenting herself to view her from afar. “What breed is she? The baritteannu the lords of Kubarru breed are similar in shape and color, but they don’t have amber eyes or bronze hooves.”
“It’s apparently a breed from my world,” he supplied with a shrug.
She nodded briskly, “Well then, I suppose it’s no mystery I’m unfamiliar with it. Either way, she’s positively stunning.” Producing an apple out of her bag, Annatta tried to bribe the horse to let her touch her, but Dapplegrim obstinately backed away, stomping her hooves when the Djinn tried to get close.
“I think you offended her,” Jasper observed with a smile.
“Why?!” Annatta looked more exasperated than penitent. “Twas no insult to acknowledge that it was a bit unseemly for a noble of the royal house to be riding around on an undersized farm pony.”
Dapplegrim stomped her hoof again, and a small shockwave rippled through the ground directly toward Annatta. Catching her by surprise, she lost her footing, landing hard on her butt, much to the amusement of Jasper and Ihra. Rubbing her bruised buttocks gingerly, she glared at the horse for a moment before joining in with the laughter. “All right, all right,” she conceded, bowing her head respectfully toward Dapplegrim, “I spoke out of turn. You are the same wonderful horse you have always been, and I was a fool not to see that.”
With a toss of her head, the horse whinnied in acknowledgment and finally deigned to accept the proffered apple. Peace restored in their party, the Djinn turned back to Jasper with a teasing grin. “You know, there’s one more tradition for reaching a hundred that still needs to be observed.”
“There is?” he asked in surprise. “What else? Some sort of sacrifice to Shamsha, or something like that?”
“No, nothing of that sort. You and the king just have to fight a duel,” she replied innocently.
“What?!” Jasper’s jaw dropped as he stared at the Djinn in shock. “You can’t be serious.” The mere memory of the king was enough to send a small shiver of dread up Jasper’s spine. He had no idea what level that monster had reached, but even his brief meeting with the man had been sufficient to convince him that he was, by far, the most powerful warrior he had met. Even Aphora's deranged mother, he suspected, would have snapped like a sapling in a hurricane before his strength.
Annatta dissolved into a fit of laughter, Ihra joining in as she saw the look of horror on his face. When the Djinn finally managed to stop laughing, wiping the tears from her eye with the hem of her tunic, she shook her head. “No, I’m just kidding, but there really is another tradition. I think you’ll like this one, though.”
“What is it?” he asked, suspiciously.
She smiled. “A party.”