For a moment, Corisand stayed where she was on the ground, resting on soft, black moss, her mind awhirl with possibilities and questions. She looked at her hands, outstretched in front of her, and realised that her vision had altered radically. Instead of the all-round viewpoint of a horse, she could only see in front of her, but the vision of each eye overlapped, giving her an unprecedented perception of depth and distance. Slightly unfocused at the inner corner of each eye was a triangular, flesh-coloured object which she realised must be her nose. Marvelling, she lifted her hand and touched the contours of her face and, lifting a strand of long, glossy, dark-brown hair, felt the silken texture, giving it a slight, experimental tug. ‘Ouch!’ She decided not to do that again, but the sharp little pain was lost in wonder. Why, she had a voice; a mouth that could form words, could articulate her thoughts. This was incredible.
She ran her hand down the soft, velvety skin of her arm, and turning her left hand over, examined it closely: the delicate whorls of skin on her fingertips; the fingernails, translucent as a shell; the mysterious map of crossing and interconnecting lines on her palm; the graceful wrist with its network of blue veining on the inner side. And most important of all, the thumb, opposed for grasping. Joy surged through her. This was where the true control and power lay. This was what had given the two-legged ones such mastery over the other inhabitants of the world. The ability to use tools, build cities, wield weapons. To forge slave-chains for their fellow creatures.
Well, now she could compete with them on their own terms. But where was she? How had she come here? Corisand remembered falling asleep, and considered the possibility that she might be dreaming, but the reality of becoming a biped was far beyond anything she had ever imagined. These new sights and sensations simply could not be originating in her own mind. True, since she’d become Windeye she’d had visions of the Xandim in their alternative form, but never from the viewpoint of inhabiting such a body.
What was this mysterious, miraculous place that had allowed her to shed her equine shape at last? She could see nothing all around but the weird, glowing mist, and a shiver ran through her as she wondered what it might conceal. Were the dangers commensurate with the wonders? She was willing to wager that they were, and she had a feeling that by lying on the ground she was putting herself at risk. Better to discover how to use this body while she had the chance, then go and confront whatever might be lurking in the mist.
But first, she’d have to get to her feet, and that turned out to be enough of a challenge to be going on with. Corisand scrambled onto all fours, then considered her next move. Rising up as high as she could on her knees, she put her right leg out in front of her. Now what? If she put her weight on the right leg, maybe the left would help to push her up . . .
Good thing this moss stuff is soft, she thought a moment later, as she pulled herself out of the sprawl into which she had fallen. Still, I think I was working along the right lines. Let’s try it again. Another three attempts found her standing, precariously balanced on two feet instead of four, and she was sure that if only there had been something in that infernal mist to hold on to, she would have done it in less. It took a while longer and a few additional tumbles before she mastered the art of walking and, until she got used to the unfamiliar form of locomotion, she would just have to hope she didn’t meet anything that she needed to run away from.
Although Corisand had been preoccupied with discovering the advantages and limitations of this new and unfamiliar body, she had not lost sight of her main objective: to find out where she was, and what had finally freed her from the prison of her equine form. She wished that she had a weapon of some kind, but that could not be helped. Naked and alone, she set off bravely into the enclosing mist.
Corisand walked for a time in an unchanging landscape, in the strange, glowing amber light, with misty vapour still blocking her vision, and the thick, black moss soft beneath her bare feet. There were no sounds or scents to give her any clue as to her whereabouts, and she had no idea of the direction in which she was moving. She had no sense of time passing in that changeless place - she could have been there for hours or minutes.
At length, however, the surface beneath her changed from moss to grass, and the mist began to swirl away in one direction, leaving an aperture through which she could see a strip of green turf with the inviting glint of water beyond. Quickly, Corisand stepped through the hole before it began to close again, and immediately swung around in a circle, to make sure there were no enemies nearby. She could not see another living creature, but to her surprise the uncanny mist had vanished without trace. Behind her was a forest of pine, spruce and hemlock trees that towered to an incredible height. The little grassy swathe on which she stood thrust back in a tongue-shape, bounded by the dark wall of the magnificent forest, beyond which she could glimpse the snowy peaks of mountains. As she whirled, completing the circle, she discovered that she was standing on the shore of a lake.
The temptation was overwhelming. Hurrying to the lakeside, she bent down on one knee and looked into the mirror of still water. Then Corisand saw the new form that she’d assumed for the first time. A cloud of tangled dark-brown hair, framing a rather rounded face with dark eyes and a small, straight nose. A mouth that dimpled on either side as she broke into a sudden smile at the delight and wonder of it all. A strong, sturdy, compact body, with full, rounded breasts that made her eyes open wide in surprise. As she had never seen the Phaerie or their human slaves unclothed, she found one or two more surprises on the way down to her feet, but all in all, she decided she liked what she saw.
Now that her curiosity had been satisfied, she scrambled to her feet again - she found it easier this time, now that she was getting the measure of her new body - and took a proper look at her surroundings. The calm waters of the lake were the extraordinary, clouded blue of moonstones, and wound away into snow-streaked mountains on her right, so that she could not see where it ended in that direction. On her left, seemingly not more than a mile or two away, was . . .
The Windeye’s jaw dropped in amazement. At that end of the lake, descending into the water like a towering white wall, was a glacier. The river of ice, its upper surface ridged and jagged, went curving away as it sloped upwards out of sight, to be lost among the peaks beyond. She knew exactly what it was, though she had never seen one before. She could feel a new force tingling through her mind and body, thrilling her with an energy that was as potent, formidable and uncanny as the glacier itself. Corisand laughed aloud. In this otherworldly place, in this unfamiliar two-legged body, her Windeye’s powers had come blindingly alive, filling her mind with new and complex thoughts and providing her with all the knowledge and insights she needed to survive here. She did not know how to wield the magic yet, but that would come. She had a feeling that she was here to learn. But where was this place? Why, despite all this new knowledge in her head, did she not recognise it?
Corisand felt as if she could not take in enough of the glacier. She had never seen anything so awe-inspiring. This titanic flow of ice took her breath away. Its sheer immensity was difficult to encompass, for there was no way in which to gauge perspective. The whiteness of its rough, ridged surface was streaked and stained with grey, consisting of rock that had once been huge boulders before being pulverised into the finest of powders by the mighty forces within the ice. In its heart, however, the glacier held a magical surprise - drifts and patches of pure and stunning turquoise blue; clear and radiant as a jewel and heartbreaking in their intensity and perfection. Here, so close to the vast work of nature, she could feel the chill from it on her hands and face. The air was utterly still; filled with a silence so vast and profound that it could be felt like a pressure on the skin.