The next morning, when the odd haze of a rainy day was just beginning to be lit by the dawn, three members of the Salmalin family made their way down towards the rider barracks. Daine walked this route every morning and could have done it blindfolded, but today she held the hand of a yawning but curious child. Numair – never a morning person - looked even more sleepy than his daughter, rubbing his eyes and looking accusingly at the sun as if it were making the world early on purpose.

"Is this why all your classes are in the afternoons?" Daine asked. He cut his eyes at her, half laughing, half grouchy.

"Stop sounding so damned smug, you beautiful fiend. How are you so wide awake?"

"Oh, the twins started leaking at both ends while you were fetching T'kaa." Daine disguised a shudder badly. "The screaming alone would have raised the dead, I swear. Luckily that warding spell was still going, so..." she shrugged.

"Why was there a ward, ma?" Sarralyn piped up, always vividly nosy about anything to do with magic. It was a topic which she knew was forbidden for herself – grandma goddess had said so, at least until she was older- and so she was fascinated by it. Numair blushed, but the child thankfully missed it, and Daine was her usual implacable self.

"Dada cast one last night." She explained, and then a mischievous light lit her eyes and she added. "He was being noisy and we didn't want to wake you cublings up."

"Once again, my dear little magelet, you show a true talent for being about as subtle as a battering ram."

"...and because being noisy kept him awake half the night he's being a grouchy bear this morning, love. Tell him off for me?"

"Bad bear!"

"Close enough." Daine ruffled the girl's dark hair and grinned at her husband. "Battering rams have their uses, after all. Don't they, Numair?"

He laughed darkly at that but didn't answer.

Sarralyn blinked when her parents linked hands with each other, because she had never seen them do it outside of their own home. It was nice to see them laughing, and the little girl relaxed her grip on her ma's hand. Whatever adventure they were going on today, her ma and da were obviously not worried in the slightest.

When they reached the recruits, though, her father's relaxed air seemed to vanish.

The young men and women stared at him with wide eyes when he stood at the front of the group, because it was so unlike their teacher to ask anyone to assist her. But here was a strange man, looking intensely solemn as he introduced himself. Their eyes widened even further when they realised who he was, but their excited whispers soon faded. It was clear that something very serious was happening.

"You're the oldest recruits, is that right?" Numair asked the group, and got a few nods in reply. "So you'll be sent out on patrols in a few months – for bandits and immortals, correct?"

"Yes, sir!" A few voices shouted in happy unison. Daine hid a smile when the mage looked a little taken aback. Magic students never shouted; it would probably upset the books. The man recovered quickly, and looked around at the group.

"So, are you looking forward to seeing battle?"

A few answers were again shouted out, and Daine mentally shook her head at some of them. People were excited to be able to show off their skills, or to tell their families what they had done, or to spill blood. A few even spoke about it like some rite of passage, as if taking a human or an immortal life somehow made them more of an adult. Numair listened quite politely to all of the replies, nodding at the few which were talking about protecting the remote villages or practicing to defend their own homes. Most, as Daine had said, were not as realistic.

He waited for the recruits to fall into silence. Then, he held out a hand to his daughter, and when she ran forward and took it he lifted her up away from the mud and nodded towards the curtain wall. "Come on," he said simply to the riders: "We're going for a walk."

Daine followed just as curiously as her students, because she had no idea what Numair was planning. The fact that he was carrying Sarralyn made her nervous – not because she thought he would slip in the mud, but because it meant that whatever he was planning, the little girl would be right in the middle of it. They walked for ten minutes or so, skirting around the edge of the bailey and then leaving the castle through a gateway whose guards blinked at them with sleepy eyes.

Sarralyn perked up a little then, because this was the route which they often took to walk to the forest. She liked the forest, it was full of things with soft fur whose voices she was just beginning to be able to hear. Her father noticed her sudden excitement and kissed her cheek.

"Not now, dearest." He said softly, so that only she could hear. "But this afternoon I promise we will do whatever you want to do."

"What're we doing now, da?" The little girl asked, settling back down sleepily against his shoulder.

"We're helping mama." He looked at her levelly. "We're teaching something to all these people. And I want you to listen very carefully as well, alright?"

"Alright dada." She smiled trustingly, but there was a little worry in the expression. "Is it a hard lesson, da?"

"No," he looked sad for a moment and held her tighter. "But it's not easy."

"I kno-ow. Your lessons are never ever ever easy." She sighed.

"Sir," a voice piped up, and both Numair and the little girl looked to their left to see one of the recruits walking beside them. He had clearly run to catch up, and his face was red with effort. It turned redder under the legendary man's scrutiny, but the boy managed to nod a bow. "Sir, everyone wants to know where we're going."

"Going? You're following me." Numair said mildly, and Sarralyn nodded fiercely, supporting her father. The boy laughed nervously.

"Well yes... yes, sir, but the thing is that we... there are immortals nesting in the caves, aren't there? The ones near here? It's why we don't patrol here at all when we... we..." he choked and stopped speaking under the man's level look. "It's not safe, sir. We didn't know if you knew that, since you have... the little girl... with you."

"I'm not little." Sarralyn announced indignantly. "The twins are little! I'm not!"

"She's perfectly safe." Numair said shortly to the man, but his curt answer was mollified a little since it was obvious the lad was genuinely worried. Honest concern for his family was something the mage would always respect, no matter where it came from.

He shifted his daughter in his arms, moving her weight and making it so she was closer to the recruit. "Sa, what do you do if you see a stormwing?"

"Get low, and under trees." The girl replied instantly. "They can't fly through branches and they can't walk well on their claws."

"Perfect." He grinned. "What about... hmm, I'll ask you a hard one. What about a unicorn?"

"That's not hard, da! I cover my ears, 'cos if they whinny wrong then you can get the unicorn fever."

"Exactly." He ruffled her hair, and grinned at the stunned look on the recruit's face. "See the little bracelet she's wearing? That's a warding spell, like a barrier. I made it when our twins were newborns. I had to start bringing Sa to my magic class, and I didn't want her caught by any stray flares. It works just as well for most immortal magic."

"You tested it?" The boy looked doubtful. Numair nodded, getting more irritated by the boy's persistance.

"Of course I did."

"Against immortals?"

"Do you ask Dai... Mistress Salmalin, I mean... this many questions?" He retorted, "Or do you really think I don't care if my own daughter is in danger?"

"I just thought..."

"If you think you're in danger, Jain, then arm yourself." Daine cut in, her voice soft but full of command. The boy straightened up instantly, and made a hasty salute to her. The woman smiled reassuringly at him, but there was no doubt that she was giving an order when she continued: "Tell the others to arm up, too. You can be captain, today."

Numair glanced at her, seeing that her own bow was still securely strung across her back, and her hand was nowhere near either it or her dagger. "There are no immortals near here," he guessed in a whisper. She grinned and lowered her own voice.

"Of course not! But they don't know that."

"You are an evil woman, and I adore you for it." He teased, and then pulled a face at Sarralyn. The child giggled brightly. Against the sound of bows and knives being clumsily drawn, it was a jarring noise. Numair carefully set the girl on her feet, catching up her hand.

They kept walking for several more miles, and reached a meadow just as the sun broke through the drizzle. As the boy Jain had feared it was near to the caves, and a great jagged stone rose from the trees like a great felled tree stump. Whorls and swirls of rock made laughing faces which leered down at the grassland through the trees. The recruits gaped at it, but the meadow seemed pleasant enough. In the warmer sun the grass was already dry, and several flopped down onto it with sighs of relief.

Numair let them sit for a moment, getting their breath back after the long hike. Daine waited with the same curious impatience as her students, although from time to time she rubbed anxiously at her forehead. When she saw Sarralyn looking at her curiously she bit her lip and stopped.

"What are they?" Numair asked softly, recognising the nervous habit Daine had adopted when the colours of immortals buzzed in her mind. She thought for a second, and then gestured with her eyes towards the nearby caves.

"Spidren, mostly. Some hostile adults, more newly hatched." She kept her voice low so the child wouldn't overhear and be scared. "There's a lot of them, Numair. They're loud. Clamouring. Angry."

He nodded absently, looking towards the rocks and tugging at his nose. "They'll hear us soon enough. I've been planning to do something about that blasted nest for weeks."

"Wait, did you just bring us here to...?" Daine started, and scowled when he ignored her and stalked towards the riders. Pulling a face at his obstinate back, she took her bow down from her shoulders and then caught hold of her daughter's hand and held it tightly. "Sarralyn, you stay as close to me or dada as you can, alright?"

"What is this place?" A rider girl called out, rubbing her aching feet and ignoring the bow which she had absently dropped into the dirt. The grass sprang up lush and particularly verdant, and bright blossoms were littered through the blades. Perhaps that explained her sarcastic suggestion: "A picnic spot?"

"Hardly." Numair returned drily. He looked around at the recruits, who were spread out across the grass. "It seems you all selected your locations. Now I want you to dig."

"Dig?" They chorused, and Jain piped up: "Dig with what?"

"Haste." The mage suddenly looked stern, and as one the recruits leapt to their task. Clawing at the soft soil with their bare hands or chipping away at it with belt knives, they fell into a focused silence. Then someone cried out, "Why does it... change colour? Is it witched, sir?"

"No," Numair shook his head and glanced back at Daine and Sarralyn. The little girl flinched at the sadness in his eyes, and he looked quickly away to spare her from it. "Keep digging."

There was a cry, and then another, and several of the riders fell back from their holes as if they had been stung. A few of the others reached curiously down, brushing the dark red dirt away from the things which their digging had unearthed. Daine let go of Sarralyn's hand and looked curiously down into Jain's hole, since the boy had turned away with a sickened expression. Her own face paled, but her chin set. She understood what Numair was doing.

"Take them out of the ground." Numair ordered. There was no joking or complaining this time. Silently, each person reached into the soil and brought out a strange, mud-stained shape. The crimson dirt fell away in chunks, and showed the whiteness of bone.

"There was a battle here, in the Scanran war." The mage's voice was quiet, but every person listened so intently that they heard every word. "A fierce, bloody mess, between a group of bandits and Tortallans. The men and women who fought here weren't all trained like you. There were a few squires, perhaps ten or twenty archers, but most of them were just frightened people who were desperately trying to stop the bandits getting any closer to their families."

Daine shivered and moved closer to Sarralyn. The little girl stared at her father as he kept speaking.

"Afterwards, we found out that the Scanrans had promised the bandits land in exchange for fighting. They were starving, you see. There weren't enough people to bring in the harvest, and the poorest people always go hungriest. We don't know anything else about them, but those bandits fought as desperately as our own side, and they died as quickly."

Someone asked raggedly, "Who won?"

"Won?" Numair raised his hands a little, almost in a shrug. "They weren't fighting to win. The Scanrans, you see, had used the bandits as a decoy. They wanted to show us how close they could get to our home. Before the battle was half-done they sent their real weapon – a mage – to attack the riders' base. He cast mage-fire to clear the way. They all died, both Scanran and Tortallan. Their blood was seared into the soil and their bones fell where they died."

Everyone stared at the bones in their hands, at the bloodstained dirt, and even the birds seemed to have stopped singing.

"Whatever you dug up, take it home." Numair told them. "And give them a proper burial."

"But sir..." the girl asked dubiously, "How can I tell if this bone is... is Tortallan, or not?"

He looked down, not meeting anyone's eyes. "If you need to ask me that, then you clearly haven't understood the lesson."

There was a silence so deep that it felt like the air had thickened. Sarralyn broke it, still staring down into the hole Jain had dug. "Mama," she whispered, "There's a bad shape in my mind. It's getting closer."

Numair caught Daine's eyes, and she nodded. The spidren knew they were there.

"Arm up," he said, and when the recruits blinked at him he pointed at the caves. "I said arm up! They're coming."

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