Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) by Doranna Durgin

women were used to the particular labor of clearing wide trail.
    But Laine couldn't concentrate hard enough for amusement. And he'd sorely tried Ansgare's temper when the two men went ahead to scout out the exact path of the new road. The impression of the sumac grove spell lingered strongly, and Laine simply couldn't discern whether it was a long-lived spell or the aftereffects of the day before.
    Neither man cared to chance triggering it again for their answer.
    That meant scouting a new route. They couldn't stray too far from the old; the terrain wouldn't permit it. They moved as far down the slight slope as they could, before the ground grew too rocky for the wagons to handle. Progressing step by step, they cut the trees while Laine tried to focus on the here and now, scanning for the edge of the old spell or the advent of a new one.
    For once, it was damnably hard work. There was something pulling at him, teasing at the edges of his mind— and it had nothing to do with malicious spells. It came in flashes of memories that weren't his and faces he didn't know; it came in the odd, sharp pains that assailed him, flitting away as suddenly as they came— in his arm, or throat, or belly.
    Ansgare's prodding and eventual temper didn't have a chance of keeping his attention, and finally the smaller man flung his hands up and chased Laine away. There was enough ground marked to keep the group busy for a while, and when they broke for lunch, why maybe, just maybe, Laine could keep his thoughts together long enough to check out the rest of the route.
    Maybe not , Laine thought, sitting against the tongue of the wagon and scrubbing his hands through his hair. But they didn't have the fodder to linger here more than a day or two, and they all knew it. At least they didn't have to feed Ehren's beasts; the two were at liberty, picking their way through the tough grasses in the rocks above and below them.
    He tried to remember just when this feeling started, this out-of-control waywardness of his thoughts. The twisted sumacs . He hadn't really felt right since he'd come out of the spelled area. He felt his eyes glaze over again, beyond his control, as a man's face appeared in his thoughts— a quick impression with eyes that lingered. Reflected in those eyes, somehow, were a handful of gory bodies, all sprawled around a central figure who'd fallen back from his knees in an twisted death pose, his rich clothing soaked with blood and his throat a gaping wound.
    "Laine?"
    Laine blinked, and felt Ehren's hand on his shoulder— saw the injured hand resting over Ehren's thigh where the man stooped slightly to reach Laine's level. The emerald glittered greenly before his eyes; Laine winced. "Wilna's ring," he murmured without thinking, barely realizing the name meant nothing to him.
    "What?" Ehren's voice was suddenly sharp; it made Laine blink out of his halfway world and focus on Ehren's dark eyes, a gaze as sharp as his voice.
    "I'm not sure," Laine said, looking up at Ehren to close one eye in doubt. Just looking at Ehren made him uneasy, and he wasn't sure why. "I suppose the shock of fighting with trees has gone to my head."
    Ehren just looked at him, then finally stepped back a pace. He shook his head. "Something's gone to your head," he said. "But I'm not sure that's it." And he left, before Laine could question the statement.
    Just as well. There were too many questions already bouncing around in his thoughts.
    ~~~~~
     
    The following morning, Ehren took the ring off.
    Wilna's ring.
    Its constant nagging had grown irritating; it wanted him to move south instead of backtracking to the Trade Road. Besides, Laine's problems had started not after the encounter in the woods as he'd hazily suggested, but after Ehren had tried to help him to his feet using the hand that bore the ring. There was no reason to subject the young man to further befuddlement; clearly, his Sight made him sensitive to the thing.
    Ehren thought again of the night