Edit April 2010: FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to).


Once again, thanks to all my reviewers. Hope you enjoy watching Numair suffer! Here, have a basilisk. I quite like Tkaa.


Once again, Numair's dreams were restless and troubled, although not from any external source this time. He had been feeling a little more optimistic after speaking to Alanna, but once asleep his subconscious took over and all his worries came to the fore again. Old nightmares stirred, and in every dream he could still feel the magic holding him here away from his friend; it was very cold. He woke before dawn again, and began pacing restlessly once more; if this went on much longer he'd wear a path in the grass.

Irritably he stalked back down the road to the barrier and glared balefully at the sparkling wall. Really, what was the use of being a black robe when he couldn't do anything? Enough power to shake the world, and he couldn't use it because of Tristan Staghorn and his friends. Scowling, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the rage building up inside him.

Numair didn't have much of a temper usually. It took a great deal to make him angry, but when his anger did flare it burned white hot; never for very long, but always destructive. Attempting to concentrate on the barrier once more, he found it impossible to begin the careful tests to find the source; it was such a stupid, flimsy obstacle that it had to be some kind of cosmic joke that this was thwarting him. Opening his eyes, he glared at the sheet of magic barring his way and thought about the mages who had put it there, and his temper snapped. I have had just about enough of this!

Much later, when talking about everything that had happened, he learned that Daine had believed it was a conscious spell he was using. It wasn't. The words he used weren't particularly arcane or powerful; instead Numair was screaming curses in his native Tyran as he hurled raw unfocused power directly at the barrier in sheer frustration.

The noise it made was absolutely unbelievable, and he had been standing right at the heart of it. Shockwaves pounded through the air, washing over him with enough force to send him staggering, his head ringing as the air filled with coloured lights. When it faded and he could see once more, the barrier was completely unchanged; he might as well have attacked it with his bare hands. The world had been stunned into silence for a few moments; then chaos erupted as every animal in earshot began screeching. Had Numair been rational, he would have stopped himself; as it was, he didn't hesitate before repeating the assault.

This second reaction was every bit as overwhelming as the first, and he almost fell over under the onslaught of reflected power. Swaying, he stared at the barrier and waited for his eyesight to return fully, struggling to focus as he blinked sweat out of his eyes. It was fortunate that he had had the foresight to tether Spots and Mangle nearby; both horses had strained their ropes to the limit, and from the way their eyes were rolling they would have been half way to Scanra by now had they not been tied up.

Panting, Numair glared at the barrier; the small part of his mind that was still functional came to life. He had just thrown a considerable amount of power at the spell and it should have done something; the fact that it had produced no reaction whatsoever was important. Now he knew how the barrier had been made; unfortunately, it didn't help him. There was no way for him to get through, and no way to get help. Knowing it was completely and utterly futile, he gathered his strength anyway and attacked the barrier for a third time. This time the noise and the backwash was enough to knock him over; lying on the ground, he stared at the sky and waited for the ringing in his ears to stop.

They say that the definition of insanity is repeating an action and expecting different results, don't they? he asked himself vaguely, sitting up and rubbing his temples as a headache began to pulse behind his eyes. His temper had been spent in the attack, and it was beginning to dawn on him that he had just done something very stupid. Nothing new there. Slowly he stood up, wiping sweat from his face with his sleeve, and wondered what the hell to do now. Call Alanna, maybe, and tell her that there was no way to break the barrier from outside and no way to get inside to break it. She'd love that.

"It's all right," he told the frantic horses soothingly, walking over to them. "I won't do that again." He spent a few moments gently stroking them, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself for his little display of temper; it hadn't achieved anything and he should have known better. Sighing, he leaned against the rocky wall of the pass and eyed the barrier sourly before stiffening; something was moving in the wall of coloured fire. Something was coming through, and that meant an immortal.

He had been expecting a Stormwing, or a hurrok, but this immortal was at ground level. He didn't stop to see what species it was; the whole of Dunlath would have heard him attacking the barrier and the odds were very high that it was an enemy. As soon as a figure came into view, he hurled fire, dismayed to realise that he'd tired himself with his earlier fit of temper; a very strange sound reached him, a rumbling shriek, and the world went dark.


Fire tore through him, and the spell holding him shattered. Numair sank to his knees, coughing, and drew a deep breath; that had hurt. Lifting his head, he stared at the immortal and struggled to his feet; a basilisk. That's interesting. Lizard faces were impossible to read, but it didn't look hostile, only curious and possibly a little surprised that he'd broken free. Then again, Numair was just as surprised by that. Shivering – being turned to stone was a frightening sensation – he asked himself thoughtfully, "I wonder if I could break it twice."

The basilisk answered, surprisingly. "Perhaps experiments should wait until we have more time." The whispery voice sounded ironic; startled, Numair smiled wearily in response.

"You have a point." He rolled his shoulders stiffly; truthfully, that wasn't an experiment he was looking forward to repeating. If he hadn't broken the spell when he had, another few seconds and he would have died. "My apologies for attacking you," he added as an afterthought; obviously the basilisk wasn't an enemy.

"And mine to you," the immortal replied, sounding amused. "I bring word from Daine."

Numair started laughing. "I should have known." Of course. Every time he met a strange immortal of a rare species that he had thought was extinct, it was always somehow linked to Daine. After a moment he realised what this meant and hope surged through him. "Is she all right?"

"I believe so. She gave me a long list of things to tell you, and questions to ask."

"That sounds like her," he agreed, smiling and leaning against the wall of the pass once more. "As I'm sure Daine told you, my name is Numair."

"You could not pronounce my full name," the basilisk told him. "You may call me Tkaa." Something that might have been a smile crossed the reptilian face. "Daine wants you to stop making that noise. I agree with her."

He smiled sheepishly. "I've stopped," he assured the immortal, wondering vaguely how Daine had known it was him.

"Very good. She wishes to know how long it will take you to break this barrier," the basilisk continued, with the air of someone working their way down a mental checklist.

Numair rubbed his jaw. "I can't, not without help," he admitted. "I've sent word to some friends of mine. They're on their way, but it will take time."

The basilisk nodded and moved on to the next point. "You should know that I met her battling a Coldfang."

"Hag's bones," Numair muttered, shivering. Coldfangs were dangerous. He frowned suddenly. "Why was it attacking her?"

"You know of Coldfang lore?" the immortal asked, sounding surprised. Numair nodded, and after a moment Tkaa continued in his whispery voice. "Her wolf companions stole tools from the logging camp at the end of the valley."

"Shakith's tears, that's all we need. I assume it's dead now?" The basilisk nodded. "Well, that's something. What else?"

"The Lady Maura has left the castle and is now with Daine."

"What?"

"I understand she was trying to run away and could not leave the valley. The wolves found her."

That could be a problem if her relatives attempted to find her. Then again, Numair had received the impression that the rulers of Dunlath didn't particularly care about the girl one way or the other; and they would know she could not leave the valley. It was likely they would leave her and find her after everything was over. "All right. Was there anything else she wanted me to know?"

A note of amusement entered Tkaa's voice. "She instructed me to warn you that if I can pass through the barrier, so can other immortals; you are to watch out for Stormwings sent by Tristan. Is that the yellow mage?"

"Yes," Numair replied, startled. "Do you know him?"

"Not personally. When he brought Stormwings into this place, I followed them."

About to reply, Numair paused and turned to look at the barrier; this time immortals were coming through in the air. The only peaceful flying immortals he could think of were winged horses, griffins or dragons, none of which were likely to be here now, but one mistake was enough; he did nothing until the Stormwings were visible. Their leader was a blond male with green eyes and bones in his hair; the immortal smiled nastily on seeing him. "Found you!"

"It's nice to know I'm so popular," Numair replied mildly. "Unfortunately my dance card is rather full at the moment, so I'll have to decline your master's invitation – I assume that's why you're here."

"Funny," the Stormwing answered. "He thought you might say that."

"Did he think I would do this?" Numair asked innocently. The spell he used was one of the most useful things he'd ever invented and never failed to make him laugh; the Stormwings seemed to rethink their position and hastily fled back through the barrier.

"What was that?" Tkaa asked.

Numair grinned. "Something I put together last year. For some reason, Stormwings really hate onions; I have no idea why. It makes them sneeze a lot; maybe it's an allergy. In any case, they won't bother me again, although I have no doubt Tristan will send something else after me. You can tell Daine that I can take care of myself."

"So I see," the basilisk noted. "How did you learn that?"

He smiled at the memory. "Last autumn Daine and I were at Port Legann helping to clean up after a pirate raid. Stormwings had come to feed on the dead; some of the defenders lost their temper and started throwing anything they could lay their hands on. Someone threw an onion and hit a Stormwing in the face; when they saw the effect, everyone else joined in – well, the ones who weren't laughing too hard to aim, anyway. Afterwards, I put that spell together." Shaking his head, Numair's smile broadened. "As you can see, we lead an interesting life."

"I had guessed as much," Tkaa told him dryly. "I believe I passed on everything Daine wished me to tell you, although doubtless by the time I return she will have thought of more. Do you have a message in return?"

Numair rubbed his jaw. "Not really. Anything I tell her will only annoy her. Just let her know that I'm all right and that I can't break the spell by myself, please."

"As you wish. It was interesting meeting you."

"Likewise."


After Tkaa retreated back through the barrier, Numair had intended to contact Alanna. It was entirely possible that she had heard his assault on the spell keeping him out of Dunlath; it had certainly been loud enough – his head was still ringing. Even if she hadn't, he needed to tell her if only because it had allowed him to find out what was anchoring the barrier and how to break it. And she needed to know that he had a means of communicating with Daine.

The thought had barely crossed his mind before there was movement in the barrier once more. Lifting a hand in readiness, he braced himself, but it was only Tkaa again and he relaxed.

"I told you she would think of more," the basilisk said dryly in his whispery voice, holding up what looked like quite a lengthy letter covered in Daine's familiar impatient scrawl. She could write very neatly, but seldom had the patience; Numair grinned as he took it, although his smile soon faded as he began to read.

Numair

Maura says Belden and Yolane are about to rebel against the king. She overheard them talking to the mages. Tristan invited them, it wasn't an accident they were there. They planned to strike at Midwinter, but because you got away it'll be the full moon. Yolane and Tristan were talking about a bargain; he promised her she'd be queen by winter, and she said something about what they've been shipping from the mines. Maura says they're canoodling.

Tkaa says you can't break the barrier. Why? I've seen you do more difficult things.

Can't you use one of those words of power on it?

He frowned, wishing that Maura had overheard something more specific about what exactly was going to happen or who was involved. Still, this was useful, and at least gave them a schedule to work to, although with luck this would all be sorted before the full moon. And as for Tristan and Yolane – he smiled a little sourly – from what he knew of them both, they deserved each other. But an attempt to overthrow Jonathan...

His musing was interrupted by a sharp animal sound. Looking up, he saw Tkaa bending to look at a marmot; there was only one reason a rodent would go anywhere near the immortal. "Daine, is that you? Can you understand me?"

The relief he felt when the marmot nodded awkwardly surprised him; he hadn't realised how badly he had needed to speak to her. Face to face would have been better, but this would do. Fighting to keep the smile from his face – this was a serious matter, after all – he held up the letter. "Your news is serious, but not surprising. Dunlath is too well guarded to be a country backwater. When we're done talking, I'll get under cover and speak to the king again."

Numair shook his head. "As to the barrier – did you notice the mixture of colours? It's hard to break a joined spell like this, in which several mages take part." He scowled. "Also, there is an added dimension to this working. The mages Tristan has are disciplined; Alamid and Gissa are both Masters. I believe Redfern may be, as well. All the same, I should have produced a reaction of some kind, from the power I just threw at the barrier."

Despite himself, he flushed, a little embarrassed by that particular display of emotion. "I shouldn't have done that, of course. I'm afraid I lost my temper," he admitted. "The fact remains, the barrier absorbed my Gift and didn't deflect it. That means it is fuelled with more power than the combined Gifts of Tristan's group can produce. They must be using gemstones that act as power sources to anchor it."

Now he thought about it, he should have known that anyway. Dunlath had opal mines. It wasn't exactly a stretch to assume that they might actually have used a couple of the opals. And I'm supposed to be intelligent. Suppressing a sigh, Numair continued, "If that's the case, I may have to wait for mages to come from the City of the Gods and the Royal University to break it."

The marmot shifted and raised a paw, pointing awkwardly at the letter; he glanced at it automatically and read the final line again. He shouldn't have told her about the words of power in the first place, really; she didn't understand the reality of those spells, and it would take years to fully explain, as it had taken years for him to learn. He rubbed his face wearily. "Remember what I told you of the words of power. For each one used properly, there is a reaction elsewhere of similar magnitude. The word that may break this spell will cause an earthquake somewhere else. I will not kill untold numbers of people to get through, not when other mages will soon come to aid me." His voice was flat.

After a moment he took a deep breath. "I do have some good news. King Jonathan said that two Rider groups and a company of the King's Own are nearby, on border patrol. They're to be sent here. The Sixth Rider Group will arrive in two days, the Twelfth in four, and the men of the King's Own in three days. The mages may take as long as a week to reach us, but that can't be helped."

"You said each word of power 'used properly'," Tkaa said quietly; the basilisk had been listening closely. "What if a word of power is used improperly?"

"The magic backfires," Numair said grimly, his mouth twisting. That was another reason not to use them. "It's one reason there are so few of my rank. The others who tried to reach it are dead." The final test for the black robe was... terrifying. He still wasn't sure how he'd survived. And of course, the other main reason there were so few mages of his level was that they tended to go insane... Definitely time to change the subject. He looked back at the marmot. "Are you comfortable shifting to your friends' minds? Is it difficult?" The rodent nodded, then shook her head.

He didn't want to take the next step, but Alanna had been very clear. If he couldn't get through the barrier himself, Daine would need to spy for them; they had to know what they were facing. His whole being rebelled at the idea; she was only fourteen and it would be very dangerous. But there was simply no other choice; sometimes it seemed that was the story of his life. Sighing, he gave in.

"Daine, I have a tremendous favour to ask," he said unhappily. "We need more precise information. Is there a way, without putting yourself in danger, that you can enter the northern and southern forts and count the men posted there?" She nodded automatically, as he had known she would; she couldn't lie to his face, he knew her too well, but through an animal it was different. Best to make himself as clear as possible and hope she listened; there's a first time for everything, right?

"You can do it from within an animal's mind and your human self will be at a safe distance?" Another nod. "And you'll be able to return to your own body without mishap?" A third nod, and Numair surrendered, unable to think of any more objections.

"The sooner you can do it, the better," he said quietly, trying not to show just how unhappy he was with this plan. Remembering their last conversation, he summoned a trace of bravado. "And be careful, or I will not put you in the deepest, darkest dungeon I find, understand? I will take you to the glaciers in northern Scanra and drop you in the deepest crevasse known to man."

The marmot turned her back and lifted her tail, and Numair almost choked trying not to laugh. She would never have had the courage to say any such thing to his face. I've been a bad influence on you, magelet. You used to have better manners. Grinning despite the severity of the situation, he looked over towards the horses. "How are you fixed for supplies? I can share what I have, particularly since you are feeding Maura as well as yourself." He wouldn't miss it; he never ate well when he was stressed. She shook her head and turned away, vanishing into the undergrowth, and he watched her go somewhat forlornly. Goodbye, then. Please, be careful.

"You worry about her," Tkaa said quietly.

"Constantly," Numair answered, looking at the basilisk. "Mostly out of habit, I suspect. I know she can take care of herself. She did so long before I met her."

"You have not known her long, then?"

"Not even two years yet. We met last spring, largely by accident. It seems a lot longer than that, though, somehow."

"The mortal mind does strange things with the concept of time."

"So I have observed." Numair studied his companion thoughtfully. "Forgive me, but why are you here, Tkaa? I would not have expected a basilisk to take any notice of mortal affairs."

The immortal's expression changed into something that might have been a smile. "Impulse. I have not been to the mortal realms in something over four hundred years; life is different here, richer, and far more interesting. This situation intrigues me, and I would like to see the outcome. I am also interested in Daine; I have heard of wild magic, but never observed it. And to find one of my dragon kin here as well... You yourself, too, Numair. I have never met a mortal mage as powerful as you. I cannot believe it is a coincidence that all of you are together."

He blinked slowly, processing this. Tkaa might well have a point. It all seemed so normal to him that perhaps he took it for granted, but maybe there was a reason why he – one of the world's most powerful mages – was with the most powerful user of wild magic he had ever heard of. Wildmage, he thought suddenly. Daine could wield her magic as skilfully as any Gifted mage; there should be a name for it. He had no idea if the title 'wildmage' existed or not; if not, he'd just invented it.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought to one side to be considered later and returned to what the basilisk had said. "Perhaps," he admitted guardedly. "I haven't thought about it that way before, but maybe I should. When I have time," he added with a sigh, considering how much he had to tell Jonathan. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked back at the immortal – one of the few creatures he'd met that was taller than he was. "Stay with them, please?" he asked. "Particularly Maura, I suppose. She's only ten; I doubt she can look after herself the way Daine can, and she's going to be busy."

"You have my word," Tkaa agreed quietly. "What will you do now?"

"Find somewhere safe to camp for the night and contact my king with what I have learned. Then sit and wait, I imagine. I really do hate that, but there doesn't seem anything else I can do. I don't suppose you'll have any more luck than I have in persuading Daine to be careful, but could you try, please?"

"Just because I am immortal does not make me a god," the basilisk replied dryly, making Numair smile; he liked Tkaa's sense of humour. And he certainly knows Daine. "I will see you tomorrow, I imagine. Good night."

"Good night."


"Jon."

"Numair? You sound terrible."

"Thanks," he replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster; truthfully, he felt terrible. He was tired, and worried, and somewhere there was a lot of repressed anger and hatred that he was trying not to acknowledge. "I have information for you. I managed to hear from Daine; she's been joined by Lady Maura, the younger sister of Dunlath's ruling lady, Yolane."

"Do you know what's going on?"

"Unfortunately none of the specifics, but the general outline, yes. It's open rebellion. Maura overheard her sister and Tristan talking; he promised her she would be queen by winter. They were going to strike at Midwinter, but I escaped their trap and it's scared them. They plan to do whatever it is at the next full moon. But if Alanna and the Riders are close, we should be ready to act in a week, so we'll beat them to it. I think." Goddess, I'm tired.

"What are they planning to do?"

"I don't know. If I had to guess, I would say that their mines are producing – probably opals. I don't know whose idea it was, but those opals are being shipped to Carthak. In return, Ozorne is giving them money to man their forts, and has allowed Tristan and the others to help. I suspect the plan involves immortals attacking you, or something similar."

"What does he get out of it? You've spent years telling me that he does nothing without personal gain, and opals wouldn't be enough."

"He eliminates you, and gains a virtual puppet on the throne of Tortall – Belden's a fool, and Yolane just wants to wear a pretty crown. As an aside, if he can bring you down, he can amuse himself disposing of the rest of us."

"Can you prove any of this?"

"No."

"Mithros, Numair, what good is this to me?"

"I'm so sorry that your own laws mean the testimony of a ten year old isn't allowable in court, Jon," Numair growled. "My sincere apologies if Carthaki mages have succeeded in blinding me to everything that's going on. I'm doing the best I can with the resources I have. There is absolutely nothing else I can do. I've tried everything to break the barrier and I can't. I've even asked Daine to put herself in danger and go to the forts to find out how many soldiers we're facing, because there are no other options. What do you want from me?"

There was a very long silence. It gradually dawned on Numair that losing his temper and yelling at his king was probably not a sensible plan; obviously he was more tired and stressed than he had thought. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, feeling sick. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he said quietly. "I forgot myself." A part of his mind mused distantly on how much his life had altered. In Carthak, those words would have earned him a painful death lasting several days.

"All right," Jonathan said after a moment, his voice conveying that he intended to forget those words had ever been said. "I know you're doing everything you can – you and Daine. Are you certain you cannot break the barrier unaided?"

I just said so, didn't I? This time Numair kept the outburst to himself; he knew what Jon meant. "It isn't a hasty ward-spell. It's a construct, anchored with gemstones. I know one spell that has a small chance of possibly breaking the barrier, but the side effects mean it isn't worth the risk under any circumstances. Strength alone won't be enough. I need several mages at different points, and a lot of time."

"You're not likely to have either. Could you manage it with just Alanna's help?"

"With time and luck, but it would take a lot of strength from both of us, and we're facing five powerful mages once we do so."

"The construct will be inside the valley, naturally," Jon said thoughtfully. "Could Daine break it?"

The idea made Numair's blood run cold. "Technically, yes, but it will be heavily guarded and I have no doubt that Tristan or one of his friends will be there constantly. She's good, Jon, but not against magic. The forts are dangerous enough."

"You said it yourself, Numair, we're running out of options. Believe me, I don't intend putting the girl at risk any more than I have to, but there may not be a choice. I know you're worried, but you're also a realist. You know I'm right. If you can come up with a better idea, feel free."

Jonathan sighed, the sound audible through the fire. "I'll pass on what you've told me to Alanna; you need some sleep. I can't make plans for you at this distance. When Alanna arrives, the two of you are in charge, and I can't believe I'm saying this. Raoul, too. With Daine's information, you should be able to devise a plan amongst yourselves with a better idea of the whole situation than I can get. I'd like a chance to approve it before you act, but if there isn't time then don't worry too much. The gods alone know why, but I trust you all. Do what you can."

Numair echoed his king's sigh; he had never particularly wanted to be a leader of any kind, and he certainly had no military experience. All he wanted was to get his student away safely and if possible help stop this plot from succeeding; unfortunately for him, that simple idea had a very complicated and unpleasant solution. "All right. If I learn anything else I'll contact you."


Sheer exhaustion forced Numair to sleep. Someone had mercy on him, and he didn't dream, or if he did, he had no memory of it when he woke. Mechanically going through his morning routine, he sat and stared at nothing in particular, trying vainly to occupy his mind, unable to concentrate. It was mid-morning when Tkaa reappeared; Numair greeted the basilisk wearily.

"Word from Daine?" he asked.

"She is on her way to the southern fort," the immortal replied softly; Numair's throat tightened and he nodded in response. "I am to tell you that I have been finding black opals here," Tkaa continued, holding out a pawful of stones that Numair recognised as raw opal dirt; the basilisk made a sound that was half croak and half whistle, producing flares of different colours from the stones.

That caught his interest, and he sat up straighter. "How did you do that?"

Tkaa sounded amused as he replied. "Unfortunately I cannot teach a human. Skysong has learned that sound and a few other things from me; you may have more luck working with her. She really is extraordinarily advanced for her age."

Numair nodded, somewhat disappointed, but he had realised a very long time ago that he couldn't master every kind of magic in the world. On bad days he wasn't sure he could even master his own Gift. "I had guessed it must be opals, but thank you for confirming it. Is there any other news?"

"The wolves are growing impatient," the basilisk said thoughtfully after a moment. "They have begun raiding the logging camps again, stealing food and spoiling supplies. Daine is angry, but was unable to stop them."

Numair swore softly and closed his eyes. "That certainly won't help. Much as I want to help them, I can't let them interfere with our plans – such as they are. If you get the chance, please warn Daine that she may have to force them to obey her – she's strong enough, but I understand why she doesn't want to. I don't want to either, come to that, but there may be no choice." He sighed. "Why must everything be so unnecessarily difficult?" he asked rhetorically.

The immortal's voice was dry. "I have not found the answer to that in four centuries. I doubt you will learn it in your lifetime."

"True enough, I suppose. Still, it could be worse – if I tell myself that often enough, I may believe it. Thank you, Tkaa."

"You are welcome. I must return to Maura."


Poor Numair. He's not having a good time.

I am sorry that I didn't go into more detail about the magic he used to break Tkaa's spell. I wanted to write more about that, but frankly I have no idea how he did it. I really could not come up with a plausible method. So... Numair doesn't know how he did it either, okay? He did it entirely out of instinct. Or something.

Also, I can't remember who first calls Daine 'Wildmage', so I decided that Numair should invent it. A random cute moment in between him losing his temper a lot and being unhappy.

The whole black-robes-going-insane thing is entirely from my own head, as far as I know, but it's a theme we'll be returning to throughout the series.

Next time: the plot thickens dramatically, and Numair gets another visitor – non-canon, this time; I was inspired. Bet nobody guesses who it'll be!

Reviews, please?

Loten.