Edit May 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).


Another longer chapter; I had reasons for wanting it to end where it does. Just remember, if you hunt me down and kill me, you won't get the next update.


Gainel was being kind, it seemed. Numair was asleep for several hours without dreaming before stars filled the space behind his eyes and the Dream King appeared. –Can you count, Arram?–

"That isn't my name now," Numair replied mildly. "What are you trying to persuade me to do, Lord Gainel?"

There was a pause. The Master of Dream approached slowly, and unfathomable eyes older than time stared through Numair. –And what makes you think I am trying to persuade you to do anything, mortal?–

"Because you're not a sadist, and you're not doing this for fun," Numair replied quietly, staring around him at the emptiness of wherever it was they were standing. "You want something from me, and you haven't simply ordered me to do it."

Perhaps you are as clever as they say, Gainel said after a moment. –And perhaps not. You didn't answer my earlier question; can you count?–

Obviously the question meant more than it seemed, but he really wasn't in the mood to play games. "Yes, I can count."

Then tell me, how many darkings did Ozorne create?–

He frowned, thinking about it. "More than a dozen, I'd say," he replied slowly. "And that didn't seem like the first time he'd done it."

Seems a little excessive, doesn't it, for two mortals?– Gainel observed mildly, studying his fingernails. Numair thought about this for a moment before cursing softly in appalled understanding. No wonder the war was going so badly! They hadn't stood a chance from the very beginning.

After a moment, dismay turned to suspicion. "Why are you telling me this, my lord?"

Do you recall my first visit to you?–

"Your war and ours may not be so far apart," Numair repeated from memory. He still didn't fully understand it. "The battle with Uusoae is connected to the mortal war. But how is that possible?" Gainel didn't answer, and he sighed heavily. "Let me guess. You're not allowed to tell me."

I don't make the rules.–

"No, I know." Numair sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair. "What am I supposed to do about it?" And why am I involved at all? Tortall's heroes tended to be strong, amazing women like Alanna and Daine; he didn't exactly fit the profile.

You'll see,– Gainel replied enigmatically, and waved a hand. The stars faded, and he faded with them. Numair expected to wake up; instead he heard voices.

"Your Majesty, we have received word from Legann."

"Report."

"It's not good news. The Seventh Riders attempted to leave by hidden ways yesterday; an ambush was waiting for them. We have three confirmed dead..."

The voices faded. Numair tried to cling to the dream and find out more about what had happened, but eventually he reluctantly acknowledged that he was awake. That was spectacularly useless. Although he had learned something, at least. The knowledge was doing him no good at all, since the people who needed to know were another realm away, but when he got home he could hopefully stop them being defeated quite so soundly.

Oh, who am I fooling? We're almost certainly doomed. Sighing, he shoved back his blanket and stood up, or tried to. Ow. Yesterday's exertions had taken their toll; he was so stiff he could hardly move. Wincing, he dragged himself to his feet, stifling a yawn; it was too early to be up, not even dawn yet, but he wasn't going to be able to sleep again now. Wash. Shave. Get something to eat. Deal with everything else later, he told himself, stumbling towards the stream.


The water was freezing, which did nothing to help his aching muscles, but after working through a series of stretches he could at least move properly. After a moment's thought he retrieved Sarra's ointment from his pack and gingerly applied a little of it to the worst of the bruising covering one side of his chest; it didn't work as well as it did for cuts, but the bruises faded from purple to yellow-brown and he could breathe without it hurting. If only all his problems could be solved so easily, he mused, building up the fire; a moment later he looked up sharply as an annoyed-looking Daine stalked past him towards the stream. She was apparently not in a good mood this morning.

Well, nor was he. He eyed her pack somewhat resentfully; whatever she said about the darkings, they were the reason that so many of Tortall's people were dead. We're bleeding because of them. Shaking his head, he set the kettle over the flames. "I learned something last night," he called to her. "The darkings aren't just spying on us."

There was no answer, and he stood up, trying not to yawn. The sun was only just rising, but for once he was surprisingly awake. "Did you hear me?" he asked as Daine came back into view, looking tired and irritable – well, she wasn't a morning person any more than he was. "It's how our enemies seem to know our every move!"

She rubbed her face. "I didn't hear."

"It's the darkings. They're the answer."

She glared at him. Recognising the warning signs, he backed off and returned to the fire, pulling on a clean shirt and setting tea to brew; Daine was obviously in a bad mood this morning. Hopefully things would improve once she was more awake, but he wasn't optimistic. He watched from the corner of his eye as she stalked over to her pack and retrieved the darkings in question, speaking to them softly. The badger approached her. Numair waited for them to finish their conversation before joining them; this was too important for him to let it drop.

"It's these little fellows," he said, reaching to pick the darkings up. "Or ladies," he added after a moment's thought, squinting at them. "It's impossible to tell if you have a sex."

Broad Foot joined them, dripping wet. "What about the darkings?"

"They don't just spy on us," Numair explained grimly. "I thought Ozorne had created a number far in excess of his needs, if they were solely to keep an eye on Daine or me." He turned his gaze to the darkings. "Your kinfolk are with our leaders, aren't they?" he asked quietly. "The king, the queen "

"In the north," Daine said in sudden realisation, looking worried. "I heard in a dream that the Scanrans got away clean. Somehow they knew the Yamani fleet was coming."

He nodded bleakly. "As I woke, I heard that yesterday the Seventh Riders tried to use a secret exit from Legann. The enemy was waiting. Three of the Riders are dead." She looked up sharply, sudden fear in her eyes, and he winced and reached out to carefully smooth a wet curl away from her face, wishing he had better news to impart. "I don't know who they were, magelet," he told her gently. "No one mentioned names."

After a moment she nodded tightly, pulling away from his hand. "The darking spies tell Ozorne. And other darkings with his commanders pass it on," she hissed, anger overtaking pain. "That dung-fouled, mould-eating " Numair spared a moment to be amused at her mild choice of language; she could swear with the best of them, but apparently was too wound up to think of a suitable insult. She whirled and glared at the badger. "You could put an end to it!"

That's true. Numair turned to look at the badger as well; the immortal shifted his weight under their stares. "The Great Gods don't like the People's gods to intervene in human affairs. We are to keep to the doings of our own children." Numair rolled his eyes; from what he'd seen, the Great Gods were a little busy right now.

"You've always said I mean as much as your own kits," Daine countered, kneeling next to her guardian. "Badger, please! I can't help them at home whilst I'm here – but you can! Please!"

Trying not to smile, Numair watched the animal god squirm. 'You know you're going to give in,' he commented silently. 'Daine could probably persuade the sun to rise in the west if she tried hard enough. I've found it best not to argue.' That earned him a glare, but he judged it was about time he started to get his own back for all the teasing he had endured recently.

"What good is knowing that your friends have eavesdroppers?" Broad Foot asked. "The darkings are very good at hiding."

He hadn't considered that, but surely Gainel wouldn't have bothered helping him work it out unless there was a way to stop it. "There are general spells to make an area secure," he replied slowly. "I would hope that the darkings aren't immune to their effects. Of course, chances are that our friends are using such spells now, to hamper the enemy's spy-mages."

There was a short silence before Daine decided to increase her attempts at persuasion. Silently she removed her necklace and held the claw out, her eyes pleading. Numair had never been able to resist that expression; judging by the look in the badger's eyes, he wouldn't be any more successful. Very quietly, Daine said, "I'm asking you now, by this symbol of the bond that's between us: Please help my friends." Oh, she was very good at this. I never really stood a chance from the beginning, did I? Numair asked himself wryly.

Broad Foot evidently recognised that it was only a matter of time before his companion surrendered. "If it helps, I will take them as far as I can."

Movement caught Numair's eye, and he glanced over to see the darkings trying to attract Daine's attention. "What is it, Gold-streak?" he asked. Daine bent closer to them and her expression changed. Frowning, he moved forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. "What's the matter?"

She looked up at him, looking confused. "It's Gold-streak. It – it talked."

He blinked, processing this. "But they don't talk, do they?" he asked slowly. "My impression was that they only communicate what is said to them, or near them."

Gold-streak stretched itself even more. "Now talk." Everyone stared at the darking. "I go. Talk to darkings. Teach them " It paused, and conferred briefly with the other two. "Freedom. Choosing."

The silence following this declaration grew more oppressive. Daine had turned her gaze back to the badger; the god wavered. "Do you know where your brethren are – who they spy on?" he asked the darkings finally. They nodded. "And I can transport a darking from place to place, here or in the mortal realms." The badger sighed. "It will take us a while, even going from spy to spy by magical means. Transporting all over the mortal realms, I will need to rest," he pointed out, giving in to the inevitable. 'Now you know how I feel,' Numair told the immortal silently; the badger looked at him with a wry expression.

"Numair Salmalín, look after my kit," the animal god told him formally. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. 'I will.' As much as Daine allowed him to, anyway.

Good luck,– the badger added dryly for his ears alone; Numair acknowledged it with a wry smile. He was going to need it. "Put that back on your neck," the god ordered Daine irritably; she obeyed silently, smiling gratefully at her guardian. Gold-streak settled itself on the badger's back; the immortal turned to look at it. "Ready?" The darking nodded, and the pair vanished in a flare of silver fire.

Feeling immensely cheered by this new development, Numair and Daine swiftly broke camp. Lost in the familiar routine and not really paying attention – too busy trying to imagine his friends' faces when they learned that the two mages weren't dead after all, and wishing he could see it – Numair was startled when Broad Foot commented, "It's as good as the courtship dances of cranes." Confused, he looked over at the animal god, who promptly ruined his fresh shirt and materialised in the pouch once more before elaborating. "You never bump into each other, and you never try to do the same tasks."

"We've been doing this for a while," Daine replied, smiling affectionately up at him with an expression that made his throat ache. "I've lost count of the camps that we've put up and broken down."

So have I, sweet. He wavered for a moment, reaching out to stroke her cheek, and stopped himself. Touching her now would only make it worse. Lowering his hand, he changed the subject. "Where do the darkings ride?" he asked, his voice a little rough.


That day's journeying was better. Whether out of pity or sincere interest, Broad Foot engaged him in conversation, and the morning passed in discussing the country where the duckmoles lived; as always, new knowledge helped Numair to focus, and cleared his mind so that he wasn't constantly dwelling on the tangled mess his personal life had become. He'd needed the distraction; it was becoming distressingly obvious to him that he wasn't going to be able to keep silent much longer. There had been too many near misses recently; sooner or later he was going to betray himself. Letting himself get lost in academia again was definitely helping, and he was somewhat surprised at how much he'd missed it. It had been months since he'd had the time to sit with Lindhall or Harailt or even Tkaa and get lost in some obscure debate.

It was around noon when the landscape changed and they reached swampland. Pausing, he fished Weiryn's map out of his shirt and unrolled it. "Mauler's Swamp?" Daine asked, startling him.

He nodded. "There should be a bridge ahead." She pointed to a raised walkway of solid-looking logs, and Numair breathed a faint sigh of relief; it looked a lot more reassuring than the previous bridge. His nerves couldn't take many more encounters like that. Crossing the bridge itself wasn't a problem, although the damp wood was a little slick underfoot and there were no railings, but Numair wasn't at all surprised when insects began to gather around them. Tyra was a surprisingly marshy country in places; he knew about swamps. That didn't make the bites easier to tolerate, though; immortal insects proved far more annoying than mortal ones, and soon he and Daine were both scratching.

Finally he decided he had had enough. Lifting his staff a little, he snapped a word, and a thin haze of black fire surrounded the travellers, catching a couple of midge-like bugs that hadn't got out of the way in time. Resurrected, they joined the buzzing, humming, whining cloud outside the shield and started to complain. "The bears and the deer let us feed off them!"

"Muskrats. Don't forget them."

He exchanged an almost weary glance with Daine; by this point talking insects were barely worth a second look. Annoying talking insects were even less worthy of interest. "They are gods," he pointed out; now I'm talking to bugs. I really have lost my mind. "No doubt they replace their blood instantly. We are not gods." Well, I'm not, at least, he added silently, scratching a bite on his neck and avoiding looking at Daine.

"Mortal blood tastes best. It has life in it. The blood of gods doesn't."

So we are good for something. Food. Numair continued scratching the bite, irritated. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am to deny you such a treat," he replied sarcastically.

"You know very well we could break that shield if we wanted to. We are gods, after all."

So you all persist in reminding me, at length, Numair grumbled to himself. He knew that the insects and even the plants here were stronger than he was; he didn't want the knowledge thrown in his face constantly. He was really starting to hate it here.

"What good is blood that is given so grudgingly?" one of the insects muttered.

"What good indeed?" he replied in as mild a tone as he could manage, abandoning the bite on his neck to scratch one on his arm.

"Selfish," something accused him.

"I hope Mauler eats you!" something else added. "It would serve you right!" Numair decided that the bugs whined more than the old conservatives at court. With this parting shot, the crowd of insects left them, and he let the shield drop to save energy.

"Broad Foot, what is this Mauler?" he asked finally, knowing that he almost certainly wasn't going to like the answer. "He looked like a crocodile in the image that Weiryn showed us."

"Lord Mauler is an older god of the People," the duckmole explained. "He is a link between crocodiles and the dinosaurs." Oh, wonderful, Numair thought, but before he could say anything Broad Foot added, "May we move faster?"

That was a very bad note to hear in a god's voice. Numair obediently lengthened his stride. "Why?" he asked warily, insect bites forgotten for now.

"Mauler isn't entirely friendly to trespassers. He puts up with them on his good days, of course," the god added, trying to sound optimistic.

"You're afraid today may not be one of his good ones?" Numair suggested, already knowing the answer. He didn't like crocodiles anyway. Nobody who lived in Carthak for any length of time liked crocodiles; it was hard to see anything good about them after the third or fourth time you had to stand and watch someone being thrown into the river for them. That had been the young Arram's first hint that possibly his friend wasn't completely sane; watching Ozorne's face when the animals tore their victims apart had been... unpleasant.

"Exactly," Broad Foot agreed, his voice disrupting the memory. They walked along the logs in silence after that; the hair stirred on the back of Numair's neck as the tension rose. Finally there was a ripple of movement, felt more than seen, and the bridge shivered under his feet; he swallowed, readied himself to reach for his Gift, and watched uneasily as – something – glided away just beneath the surface of the murky water and turned towards them.

"What the – " Numair managed finally, staring at a pair of eyes larger than his head. Definitely not a crocodile.

"Lord Mauler," Broad Foot whispered somewhat unnecessarily; Numair had managed to work that one out all by himself. "Greetings to you, cousin!" the god called in tones of forced cheeriness.

"And good day," Numair muttered, breaking into a jog, relieved that the end of the bridge was visible. He was tempted to run, but Daine couldn't keep up with him at a full sprint – he was a foot taller than her, and most of it was leg length. He watched Mauler out of the corner of his eye; as they reached the last logs and gratefully stepped onto semi-dry land, the monster rolled in the water, creating a wave that soaked the travellers. Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. Grateful that at least none of it had gone in his mouth, since the swamp absolutely reeked and he definitely didn't want to drink it, he headed upslope away from the swamp.

"I don't know which is worse," Broad Foot muttered. "When he's cross, or when he's trying to be funny."

He wiped his face somewhat ineffectively with a damp sleeve. "If it's all the same to you, I won't stay around to study his moods."


The rest of the day was reassuringly uneventful and the landscape not openly hostile as they travelled onwards. Camping that night, it took Numair a while to fall asleep, but he wasn't at all surprised when Gainel's voice sounded in his mind as soon as he did so. –We are running out of time. Come; I need to speak with you both.

"Both? Daine as well? What – " Several questions blurred together in his head and he struggled to decide which one was most important.

Gainel sounded amused. –Yes, I have been talking with her as well as with you. She is important and may have a vital role to play. Yes, again. And you can relax; I'm not taking you into her mind, or her into yours. This is something else.

That was good to know, but Numair still wished the god would have let him ask the questions before answering them. He knew Gainel could read his mind, but he would have liked the illusion of privacy. Shaking it off, he thought of something else. "May I ask you something? The badger god has spoken in my dreams before. I don't think that is part of his power... Were you helping him?"

Your curiosity will get you into trouble someday, mortal,– the Dream King answered, actually laughing. –Yes, I offered a very small amount of aid. And no, I will not reveal my reasons.

Numair hadn't expected it, really, but having his suspicions confirmed was something, at least. "Where are we going?" The god didn't answer; after a moment Numair realised he was alone. Frowning, he looked around; images began to form in the darkness, and he recognised a chessboard in red and gold. The Great Gods were lined up along White's back rank (ironically, Caissa – the goddess of chess – wasn't in evidence, Numair noted wryly); Black's back rank was more complicated. Uusoae stood on the queen's square, and a shadow stood next to her in the king's place. The knights and the priests appeared to be the Four Horsemen, as far as Numair could tell.

More importantly, Daine was watching the game as well, in the company of a wolf; he moved forward and saw her staring at the kingside rook, who appeared... Yes, that is supposed to be my head. Lovely. "That's Violence," he remarked dryly, resting a hand on her shoulder; she jumped at the touch, but didn't appear that surprised to see him. He looked at the queenside rook, who held Daine's head. Thank you, my lord. I didn't need any more nightmares. "With Discord, the gatekeeper of Chaos."

"Charming," Daine muttered sourly.

"It's their nature," the wolf beside her remarked, shrugging. Numair stared at the animal for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "They can't help being what they are."

"Daine, would you introduce us?" he asked mildly, letting his hand drop and studying the supposed wolf critically.

"I dunno," she replied, turning to look at the wolf as well. "Are you Rattail, or are you the Dream King?" She'd worked it out too, it seemed. We aren't normal mortals, Lord Gainel.

I thought perhaps you would be less unnerved by hearing of these things from a friend,– the god commented as he resumed his own shape.

"Maybe," Daine replied distantly, turning to look at White's end of the chessboard. Numair noted that the Graveyard Hag wasn't on the board; then again, if she can't get rid of a Stormwing, I shouldn't think she'd be much good against Chaos, he thought sourly. It was probably dangerous to treat the gods so casually, even just inside his head, but Ozorne's survival still rankled, as did the goddess' treatment of both Daine and himself in Carthak. "Where are you?" Daine asked Gainel.

Like you mortals, I have one foot in the Divine Realms, the other in Chaos. Lately that's been a most uncomfortable position.

"Understandably," Numair replied sarcastically, pointing to Black's second rank as the pawns began to appear. "Now we have some answers!" Naturally, the king pawn was Ozorne; nobody saw that coming. It was the queen pawn that made Numair catch his breath, suddenly understanding why he was being shown this. He whistled softly between his teeth, staring at the tiny figure. "Inar Hadensra," he said quietly. "That explains far more than it doesn't."

"He's very powerful?" Daine asked.

"Yes, indeed," he replied, starting to see the shape of the future now. "And he serves only the Council of Ten in Scanra, not whoever they have as king that week," he added sarcastically, before looking at the rest of the pieces. The queenside priest and knight pawns were both familiar to him. "The Copper Islander to his right? That's Valmar, the third of King Oron's sons, carrying a general's baton. And next to him is Deniau, the high admiral of the Copper Isles, and Valmar's brother. Ozorne has powerful allies." Damn him. How on earth did he get Hadensra onside? The rest of Black's pawns were miscellaneous immortals, impossible to identify.

Now White's pawns began to fill the second rank of their end of the board. This is a ridiculously overextended metaphor, you know. Jon, Thayet and Alanna made sense. So did the Yamani general, whose name escaped him at the moment. He and Daine were the rook pawns at either edge of the board; between them were Tkaa and Kitten, which was strange. He would have expected Raoul and Duke Gareth, or Buri.

"I don't like being so far apart from you," Daine commented softly beside him, catching him off guard. He couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, and in the end judged it better to pretend that he hadn't heard; he didn't have much time to think about it, since now the pieces were moving. They watched in silence as White's pawns were systematically destroyed, before Uusoae proceeded to wipe out her own pawns and then White's ranked pieces. All right, well, none of those moves were legal in chess, so your metaphor just broke down completely.

"I don't like that game," he remarked tightly, forcing a smile and doing his best to tear his eyes away from the square that held the image of Daine's corpse without seeing any of the other dead pawns. He was definitely gaining new nightmares. "Can we play a new one?"

The board straightened out and a new gambit began; this time the gold pieces fought back, splitting up and targeting specific opponents. Numair realised that this example didn't bear much resemblance to reality; Jon probably wouldn't be able to stand up to Hadensra, and he himself wouldn't waste breath on Deniau. Still, the point was made; kill a certain pawn, and Uusoae would appear. He wasn't certain why this was a good thing.

If she is behind this, she will come to avenge her servitor, the one who found a way for her to use mortal power without Father Universe and Mother Flame knowing,– Gainel explained. –Once she reveals herself, they will enter the matter, and end the fight. Gods and mortals will be safe again, at least for another thousand years.

The chessboard vanished; Numair blinked in the sunlight streaming through the trees, utterly disorientated for a moment. Sitting up slowly, he cocked his head as the Dream King's voice echoed through his mind; the god wasn't actually speaking to him any more, though. –Her ally may not be a spidren. It may be another immortal, or a human. Whoever it is, for the sake of your parents, humankind and the Beast-People, you must kill him, or her,– the god explained to Daine, who was also awake. –It is the only way to end the war.

Dozens of questions were crowding Numair's head at the moment. He knew Gainel wouldn't answer most of them, if any at all, and finally snapped in sheer exasperation, "Why didn't someone just tell us what the problem was?"

Because the Great Gods believe that no problem exists,– Gainel replied sourly. –They say that no mortal would risk the destruction of his or her own realm by helping Uusoae to break the walls that keep her contained. I no longer argue with my brothers and sisters. They only laughed, so I gave it up. Farewell then, mortals. Good luck.– With that, the presence in their minds was gone.

Numair and Daine stared at one another in silence for a while. He could barely think clearly enough to sort out all the questions filling his mind; he certainly didn't have answers to any of them. If the Great Gods and Uusoae were on the board, who had been moving the pieces? That one was going to give him nightmares. So was the knowledge that the Great Gods were apparently incapable of controlling the actions of a single mortal and couldn't see what was happening. It was also somewhat unsettling to find out that sometimes people really were merely pawns of Fate. And it seemed he was going to be fighting Inar Hadensra when they returned, one of the most powerful mages in the world and probably near enough his equal. And Daine would be facing someone equally dangerous. Because the gods couldn't do anything.

"So... no pressure, then, magelet," he said finally, trying to keep his tone light. She laughed shakily in response, running a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she had picked up from him that even now made him smile. "If this is what it feels like to be chosen as a champion of the gods, I'm not very impressed with it."

"We got a lot more information this time," she replied mildly. "Which is nice of Gainel, I s'pose."

"This is probably at least partly my fault," he said thoughtfully.

"How?" she asked blankly.

He grinned at her. "Because every time I catch myself thinking that you can't possibly make my life any more peculiar, something dramatic always happens to prove me wrong."

Torn between laughter and outrage, she grabbed a pebble from the ground beside her and threw it at him. "That's hardly fair!"

Catching it deftly, Numair's grin broadened as he tossed it back to her. "Oh? You've caused every premature grey hair I possess, I'll have you know. How else would I get caught up in this mess, except by associating with you? I'm nobody's idea of a champion."

Batting the pebble out of the air, she grinned back at him. "Oh, I dunno. You have your moments. And as Da kept pointing out, it's entirely your fault that you're here."

"Imagine the trouble you'd be in if I weren't," he retorted, starting to laugh; gods, he'd missed this.

She sputtered a laugh. "You'rethe one who gets me into trouble, most times! And who had to rescue who at Temptation Lake?"

"If you children are quite finished?" Broad Foot's dry voice cut across Numair's attempt at a reply; not difficult, since the mage was laughing too hard to speak. "It's time to move on." Lord, what fools we mortals be.


His surprisingly good mood lasted throughout the morning. Once again, Numair decided, knowing what they actually faced was making him feel better; at least now he knew what to expect, up to a point. And it felt good to have settled things between himself and Daine. He acknowledged now that distancing himself the way he had been had achieved nothing except to make him feel miserable; his feelings weren't going to go away and he wasn't willing to sacrifice their friendship in the attempt. Things were almost back to normal between them, and that simple fact was enough to make him happier than he had been in months. It wasn't quite everything that he wanted, but it was a large part of it.

Sitting by a stream to eat lunch, he leaned back on his elbows in the sun and let himself relax a little, determined to enjoy his good mood while it lasted. With this optimistic attitude, it was inevitable that something should happen to spoil it; a deafeningly loud noise echoed around them suddenly, making both humans yelp and try to cover their ears. It sounded like a door slamming, which was a very strange sound to hear in the middle of a forest. Before the echoes died away, an equally loud creaking noise further deafened them.

Through the ringing in his ears, Numair vaguely heard Broad Foot say, "Oh, my goodness. So it's come to that."

"Come to what?" Daine asked shakily, rubbing her ears.

"Follow me," the god ordered, heading towards the stream. Blinking to stop their eyes watering, they obeyed, crouching beside the duckmole as he breathed on the surface of the water. Images formed. Numair stared at the picture directly in front of him, recognising Port Legann in the midst of battle – complete with a giant semi-transparent hyena. What the... The thought dissolved; he knew what this was. Slaughter.

He turned to look at the image in front of Broad Foot, knowing what he was going to see. The sunny wheat fields had to be somewhere in the south of Tortall; there were grape vines. And another oversized and insubstantial animal; an emaciated dog. Starvation. That just leaves... He eyed the water in front of Daine, watching the huge ghostly rat slinking through the streets of Corus. Malady.

"Slaughter has been out since May," Broad Foot said quietly. "Malady, though, and Starvation – what you heard were the gates to their dwellings being opened."

"The Three Sorrows," he whispered, falteringly tracing the Sign against evil on his chest as though it would somehow help. Daine copied him, shivering.

"They are the siblings of the gods," the duckmole explained. "Their appearance causes great changes, many for the good – "

Numair opened his mouth indignantly, but Daine beat him to it. "I doubt the ones they kill think so." Broad Foot said nothing further. Numair looked at his friend; she was studying the duckmole, obviously thinking hard. He followed her gaze thoughtfully; the animal god was their last remaining ally. Hmm. Well, let's see how far we get.

"You know," he said nonchalantly, as though just making conversation, "the more disorder that is created in the mortal realms, the more power that Uusoae will have to use. Or so it appears to me."

Daine looked at him for a second; he saw the half-smile in her eyes and knew he'd guessed right. Looking back at Broad Foot, who was starting to look suspicious, she nodded innocently. "I bet Chaos will feed on this," she agreed. "How can she not, when all three Sorrows are wandering loose?"

The immortal sighed heavily. "So that's it. You want me to halt the Sorrows." The duckmole looked away from them, scratching through his fur with one paw, obviously torn. The two humans remained silent, both knowing when not to push their luck any further. "I can't stop them all," he said finally. "They are strong. They ought to be, with humans feeding them for centuries. I can only hold one, and I'll have to remain in the mortal realms to keep it from breaking loose. The Great Gods themselves could do no better. Some powers cannot be ruled, even by the mightiest."

Numair and Daine stared at one another in silent dismay; they had a very difficult choice. "Who are we to say which roams free?" she whispered, her eyes wide. "If we ask to hold Slaughter, Malady and Starvation will kill hordes of folk – but if we hold Starvation, which kills slow, the other two will wipe out large numbers..."

He rocked back on his heels and fingered the bridge of his nose, thinking hard. "Armed humans can defend themselves," he mused. "Hopefully Starvation can be held at bay through food imports." Tortall was where the war was taking place; their allies were almost untouched. There would be aid available, for a while at least. If the war was still going when the food ran out, they would all die anyway and it wouldn't really matter. "But Malady..." He shuddered; he'd seen plagues before. "Malady doesn't care who it takes, or how many. Malady can wipe out armies and leave no one in the Yamani Islands or Carthak to farm the land." He'd made his choice, but it wasn't his decision.

"And it's just out," Broad Foot said reflectively, evidently agreeing with his reasoning. "It's weak still."

They both looked at Daine. Numair spared a moment to wonder why he'd decided that this was her choice; it was a terrible burden to lay on her. But it didn't feel right for him to choose, somehow; she was the champion. He was definitely in a supporting role. She stared into the distance, her eyes troubled as she thought. Finally she looked back at them. "Malady," she said very quietly. "If it can be only one, let it be that."

The duckmole muttered to himself for a while before looking up at them both. "Stay on the path. It is a fixed thing, even on the Sea of Sand," he told them, reminding Numair of all their other problems. "It will lead you to the Dragonlands. Getting in, of course, is your affair."

"Of course," he murmured dryly.

Daine knelt beside the god. "I'll owe you for this, Broad Foot."

"So will I," agreed Numair, coming to stand beside her.

The god looked up at them with humour in his eyes. "It is only fair. If you can force Uusoae to reveal herself, and save the mortal and divine realms, we ought to do some things for you. Be careful, then." With that, silver fire gathered around him, and he was gone, leaving them completely alone. That was a strange sensation after all this time; after all, since Daine had adopted Kitten, they had never been completely alone together. It reminded Numair of their very first lessons all those years ago.

"What will we do if the dragons refuse?" she asked him in a small voice; obviously it had been worrying her for some time.

Magelet, you can talk gods into helping us. I don't think the dragons are going to be any better at resisting you. Trying not to smile, he refrained from saying it aloud; he'd have to be even more careful now he didn't have psychic chaperones on all sides. "Fret about them later," he told her, gathering their possessions together. "I'm worried about crossing the Sea of Sand, if Rikash doesn't help us."

"What's wrong with the Sea of Sand?"

"I keep forgetting that we haven't both made a study of myths and legends," he commented wryly. He couldn't really teach her anything else about wild magic or animals any more; maybe he could move on to mythology. "The Sea of Sand is more than a desert. It's said the Great Gods take mortal heroes there – although Alanna the Champion never mentioned such an experience. If the hero survives, it is a sign that his – or her – mortal impurities have been seared away." Although I think Alanna quite likes her mortal impurities, actually. So do I, come to think of it.

She winced and automatically looked up. "Please, Goddess, send Rikash with help." As they walked back to the path, she looked around at him. "I'm fair confused," she remarked. "If I'm in the Divine Realms, why do I look up to pray to the gods? Shouldn't I be looking somewhere else?"

Numair grinned. Philosophy, magelet? You've definitely spent too much time with me. "Thinking about things like that will give us both headaches," he answered wryly. "Although I believe that Shuilya Chiman had visions of the dead praying by looking down." He saw her smile – a blend of affection and tolerance for his bookish nature – and couldn't resist continuing, even though he knew most of what he was saying would pass her by; this really was just like those early days, and he was enjoying the memories. "Now, in the lost books of Ekallatum..."


Dozing through the hot afternoon until the cooler evening would allow them to journey on, Numair saw Jonathan's study. The king was working at his desk when a shrill whistle sounded outside and the door swung open; Jon looked up, frowning, to see a scarlet Kitten stalking in scolding at the top of her lungs. Tkaa stood behind her; the basilisk appeared to be smiling, as much as was possible.

"Tkaa, what – " the king began.

"Skysong was visited by the badger," the immortal explained. "She knows about the darkings, and more pertinently, the source of the news. She is not very pleased with you." That appeared to be an understatement; Kitten was furious enough that Numair wouldn't be surprised to see her bite Jon. Eventually the torrent of sound died to sullen muttering as the brilliant red colour faded a little; finally the dragon looked up with one final disdainful sound, then turned and stalked out with her nose in the air.

"What was that last?" Jon asked warily.

Tkaa's rasping laugh sounded. "She said, 'I told you so.'"

As the dream faded, Numair was smiling in his sleep. That's my girl, Kit. We'll be home soon. Waking up slowly, he yawned and stretched, relieved that his good mood seemed to be holding; he'd really had enough of feeling depressed now. Looking around in the twilight, he saw Daine was already up, crouching by the spring and studying the surface; he didn't like her expression. Sitting up, he asked softly, "Daine?"

She looked at him, then reached for her pack and began to gather her things together. "The Copper Isles is sending ten ships – they're flying battle flags – north. I think they're making for Legann."

Apparently her dreams hadn't been as pleasant as his. When they journeyed onwards as night fell, Numair told her about his dream, trying to cheer her up; describing Kitten's utter contempt made her laugh, although he knew she missed the dragonet. So did he. To his wry amusement, he discovered that he had been adopted by one of the darkings, when Jelly moved from Daine's shirt to his shoulder.


They walked on in silence for a time through the more open scrubland and rocks that they found themselves in, the path lit by the moon and by the flickering lights that still washed through the sky. Lost in his own thoughts once more, Numair was startled when Daine reached out and grabbed his arm; looking at her, he saw her pointing and followed her finger to a distant shape flying upwards. He watched the bird for a moment, wondering why she'd wanted him to see it, then as it turned on its tail he remembered her describing the sunbirds. The thought dissolved a moment later as brilliant flares of colour suddenly shot from the bird's body in silver, blue and gold; more came to join the first one, and Numair stared at what had to be one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

As though echoing his thoughts, he heard her whisper softly beside him, "Beautiful." Glancing sideways, he saw her face illuminated by the breathtaking display, and couldn't help but agree. His eyes returned to the birds dancing above them, and after a while he found his voice.

"I wish I could stay, or come back. So many wonders." It was the first time he'd really appreciated that the Divine Realms weren't completely unpleasant. They watched the display in silence until the dazzling colours faded and the birds returned to wherever they roosted, before continuing onwards through the increasingly rocky landscape.

This was the start of the Stonemaze. It looked similar to the vision Weiryn had shown them, although that image hadn't conveyed the creepy atmosphere. Walking through it at night didn't help; the shadows were deep, and the flickering warlights gave the illusion of movement at the edges of vision. There was a constant feeling of being watched. Numair shivered briefly; this place was making his skin crawl. It's just rocks, he told himself repeatedly, but it wasn't really helping. Jelly stirred on his shoulder, tapping the side of his neck; he focused on the darking and realised that Daine wasn't behind him any more. Turning, he saw her some way down the trail, staring at one of the rocks.

Returning to her side, he took her arm and drew her away from it. "I feel it, too," he said softly, wishing he hadn't spoken when his voice seemed to echo oddly. "I don't know if this place is dangerous, but I will be happy to get out of here all the same." It certainly felt dangerous.

The path dipped into a narrow ravine between two cliffs; it was very dark, too dark for human eyes really. Numair channelled a little power through the crystal on his staff to create light, and wished he hadn't when the shadows cast by the flickering glow seemed to stretch and move. His heart began beating faster and he shivered fitfully, Jelly ducking inside his shirt to hide, but he had to be able to see where he was going. The tension was tying his spine in knots and he almost yelped when Daine's voice broke the silence.

"Can you – put the staff out?" she asked edgily; he heard her swallow. "I – I think it makes things worse."

Numair nodded wordlessly in agreement and stopped lighting the crystal, standing still and blinking rapidly to try and regain his night vision as Daine moved into the lead. He saw her eyes gleaming and realised she had partially shifted; good for her. He didn't have that option. He saw well in the dark, for a human, but it wasn't helping much. Taking a breath, he followed her, reaching out to trail a hand along one of the cliffs to guide himself; if I feel anything move, I'm going to scream like a little girl.

Finally they reached the end of the canyon; the air grew fresher and the sky was starting to change colour as dawn approached, which meant that he could at least see where he was going now. Ahead of them he saw a huge boulder that had been eroded into... He fought back laughter, appreciating the irony of a giant stone question mark; it nicely summed up his mood for the past week. "Well, that's fitting," he commented; in front of him, Daine looked back and grinned.

The cliffs fell back; the path cut across the side of a mountain. It was also almost completely blocked by a Chaos vent, which would force them out right along the edge of the rock shelf; Numair looked past it to a pile of grey stones and frowned. Away from the atmosphere of the canyon behind them, his brain was working again. "Now that's curious. The indigenous stone is lava rock of the brown variety. These are different. They could be granite..." He moved closer to the spill.

"Indi – what?" Daine asked as she followed him.

"Indigenous," he repeated absently, still staring at the rocks. He couldn't tell what kind they were, which was strange in itself; they weren't quite like granite, but... "Local."

"Why couldn't you just say local?" she asked tartly. The sheer exasperation in her voice made him laugh as he reached out curiously with his Gift to examine the rocks.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, not particularly sincerely. Impulsively, he added, "I'd meant to do better than my university friends, and not upset people by talking in that abstruse fashion. Then my father complained. He asked how did he know that I even went to those expensive teachers when I spoke just as I always had?" And why had he told her that story? As far as he could recall, he'd never even mentioned his father to her before.

She grinned. "You never told me that! I s'pose once you get used to doing it at home, you forget the rest of the time." That wasn't really it, but he wasn't going to correct her. His relationship with his father, with his whole family, had always been very complicated and he didn't feel like explaining about trying so hard to avoid disappointing them any further. Besides, it was certainly too late for that now, almost ten years too late.

Changing the subject, he stopped examining the stone with his magic. "Those rocks seem all right."

A moment later he felt the familiar surge of wild magic and turned curiously to look at her; since when could Daine sense anything about rocks? She had closed her eyes and was obviously concentrating. As he watched, the colour drained from her face and she started to sweat; alarmed, he moved closer, looking around and trying to work out what was happening now. He couldn't see anything wrong, and if she was doing something complex then interrupting could be dangerous; unsure of what to do, Numair stayed where he was and watched helplessly as she began to shake. After what seemed an eternity but could only have been seconds, she raised her hands to her mouth; a moment later she yelped and seemed to come out of it abruptly.

Her eyes were horrified when she opened them, and he moved hastily forward to put an arm around her shoulders as the tears began to fall; he still had no idea what had just happened, but she was hurting and that was enough. Digging through his pockets for his handkerchief, he asked, "What happened? You're white, you're – "

Taking the handkerchief from him, she pulled away and wiped her face, trying to pull herself together. "They're touched with Chaos, those stones," she told him shakily. "If I try to use my wild magic to look at something like that, it – it pulls me in."

He frowned, processing this. "You shouldn't generalise from just one experience – " he began after a moment, once again having no real idea of what to say.

"But it wasn't just one," she interrupted. "This made me remember the last time!" Taking a breath, she elaborated. "With the Skinners. When I first found them, I tried to touch them with my magic and find out what they were. It's like – I don't know. Like they tore a hole in my magic. And I saw things, and heard things..." Trailing off, she shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment before continuing briskly, "I lost control of my shape, too, which is how I broke free of it. This felt the same."

Numair listened blankly, thinking hard. He had no idea why anything touched by Chaos should affect wild magic like this. Unless... Daine wasn't fully mortal. Mortals were half Chaos. If she had less, somehow, then maybe that would explain it. In any case, it could wait. "Then how did you break free this time?"

Daine reached up and touched her ear gingerly; there was blood on her fingers. "Leaf, you bit me, didn't you?"

The darking squeaked, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise. Do that whenever you think it's needful. You just saved me from maybe walking off a cliff." Numair wasn't sure that was completely fair. He hadn't known how to react, but he certainly would have stopped her if she'd headed for the brink. If I'm about to start feeling jealous of a darking, maybe I should throw myself over the edge, he told himself dryly, shaking it off.

"We shall delay the question of where it got teeth for now," he remarked, eyeing the blot quizzically for a moment. "Let's get away from here. Can you walk by those rocks, Daine?"

"Chaos gets me through my magic. I just won't use it," she replied, sounding more like herself. As always, he was continually amazed at her resilience. "And it's not like they're alive, after all." Turning to look at the narrow path they had to take, she swallowed. "You go – I'll come after."

Numair eyed the gap between the vent and the edge and felt a chill of foreboding slide down his spine. Telling himself briskly not to be such a coward, he took a breath and strode forward with a lot more confidence than he actually felt, refusing to look to either side as he walked along the narrow strip of solid ground past the vent and around the pile of grey stones. A heartbeat later he heard the sound of rock grating on rock and turned to look upwards, fearing a rockfall; then something grabbed him and jerked him off his feet. He tried to yell a warning, and something pressed across his throat, cutting off his air; automatically dropping the staff and raising his hands to try and loosen whatever it was, he felt stone under his fingers and tried in vain to get a purchase on it.

Vaguely aware of movement and a great deal of noise surrounding him, he scrabbled desperately at whatever was restraining him, his lungs beginning to burn as his body struggled for air. No good; the strange stone things weren't going to let go in a hurry. Were they golems, or maybe trolls? There were other monsters made of stone, surely, but he couldn't remember them right now, and with no oxygen reaching his brain it was unlikely he would recall. Focus, Numair! It doesn't matter what they are! Closing his eyes – his vision was starting to waver and blacken at the edges anyway – he concentrated and reached for his Gift, feeling the power flooding through him. His attacker cried out, or at least made more noise, and the grip on his throat loosened just enough for him to suck in a shallow breath; he began struggling harder, drawing more deeply on his magic. At the last moment he remembered Weiryn telling them to harm no stones, and hastily changed his mind, wrapping himself in a shield of black fire instead of trying to blast the things into pieces.

The creature holding him let go abruptly. Numair dropped and caught himself on his hands and knees, coughing as he dragged in a deep breath that burned the whole way down. After Temptation Lake, it was an all too familiar sensation. His throat hurt abominably and he couldn't have articulated a spell if he'd tried; collapsing and curling onto his side, he maintained the shield surrounding him and concentrated on breathing. Eventually the sounds died away; when he could hear nothing but his own blood pounding in his ears, he cautiously let the power slide away and looked around, relieved to find himself alone once more.

Sitting up, he gingerly brushed his fingertips across his throat; he was lucky the thing hadn't crushed his windpipe. Somehow he still had his pack, despite everything; he shakily unearthed his water bottle and sat back on his heels, sipping it slowly and trying to think. His recollection of the past few minutes was sketchy at best, but he did remember seeing Daine stepping back and lifting her bow, and there had been no sign of her since. The things hadn't got her, then, which meant she would be following them now to come and find him. Standing up, he began to retrace his steps, vaguely aware that he was shaking. Even the landscape doesn't like me.


Picking his way back along the path, Numair wasn't really paying much attention to his surroundings, wanting only to rejoin his companion before something worse happened. Now even the rocks were attacking them; wonderful. He rubbed a bruise forming on his neck, relieved that his Gift had persuaded the things to let go of him; he hadn't had a backup plan.

A prickle of unease ran down his back; surely he hadn't been dragged so far along the path? Looking around, he frowned worriedly, recognising the rock shaped like a question mark not far off. And there, that was the Chaos vent that had spilled across the trail. He stared around him, his worry increasing; there was no sign of Daine, and no sound whatsoever. It only took a few moments for him to see the freshly-broken rock at the edge of the path, and for a moment blind panic obliterated his senses; breathing hard, he fought it off, shakily kneeling to stare over the cliff. There was a tree not far below, clinging precariously to the rock; even in the dim light, he could see branches missing.

No. Shaking his head in denial, he crouched lower, steadying himself as best he could, trying to see further into the darkness. No! Refusing to give in to the terror and despair building at the back of his mind, he swallowed hard, trembling as he stood up. He would not believe that she was dead, not yet. Fumbling with shaking fingers at his shirt sleeve, he exposed the bracelet suddenly visible on his wrist, closing his fingers over the locket that hung from it. Now he was glad he'd given in to the impulse to make it all those months ago. Closing his eyes as fire began to sparkle around his fingers, he concentrated desperately.

There. Relief almost drowned him; she was alive. Quite a long way away, though, as far as he could tell – he wasn't familiar with focus magic. Having gone down the cliff, she must have hit the river and been carried away; she was probably hurt.

The thought was all Numair needed. Without stopping to think about the consequences, he concentrated harder, his lips shaping words he had never used before as he drew deeply on his Gift; he wasn't prepared for the result. It felt as though he had been gripped in a vice; a wrenching kind of pressure tugged at him until he felt he would be pulled in half. Just when he couldn't stand it any more, something gave, and there was a disorientating sense of movement as the world blurred around him.

The movement stopped abruptly; he staggered and all but fell over, catching himself against a tree as he stared around in momentary confusion. He was near the river, surrounded by trees. That worked better than I thought... he thought absently, trying to catch up with what had happened. But where was Daine? The spell should have taken him right to her. He took a step and almost fell. Oh. He was out of power, dangerously so. A shiver ran down his back; he was lucky to have only been dumped short of his goal – trying a spell too powerful for what he had available could have killed him, and had they been in the mortal realms it probably would have.

It wasn't important. The sun wasn't far above the horizon; it hadn't been that long since they had been separated, Numair told himself. He had to find her; that was all that mattered. He turned his attention to the bracelet once more, carefully now, and automatically stared through the trees towards her; she was further downstream. All right. He started walking. When he noticed the first spidren web, he started running.


Yes, that is where I'm going to stop. I am aware that every single one of you is screaming abuse at your computer screen right now. I'm sorry, I know it was utterly evil of me, but I truly couldn't resist. What, you thought I could only torture Numair?

Anyway, this was a very important chapter for a number of reasons, starting with Numair's first dream; now the Tortallans actually have a chance of winning the war. Mauler's Swamp is fairly self explanatory, I think, though it's a chance to start getting some humour back into the story.

The chess game was fun just because of all the geeky references I could get in. Caissa, goddess of chess, is from our world and not Tortall; and as four of Chaos' major pieces weren't named, you get a cameo appearance from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as well. Now Daine and Numair know what they're facing, and promptly dissolve into silliness which is at least partly gallows humour. It'll do them good to remember that they're friends, what with everything else going on.

And the Sorrows are loose, otherwise known as a convenient plot device to get Broad Foot out of the way and leave the humans on their own. Daine and Numair are getting good at emotionally blackmailing gods; first the badger, now the platypus. It's good practice for Daine, although I don't think Numair's going to need it again.

And a bit of a cute and silly dream for Numair; Kit said all along that they were still alive. Seems she's picked up a lot of annoying mortal habits from her adoptive parents, including the ability to say, 'I told you so.' Then the Stonemaze, and a bit of foreshadowing regarding Numair's family that has nothing to do with this story but is building up to a later one-shot I have planned. Plus lots of creepy atmosphere, some monsters made of stone... and the fall. Ahem. Sorry about that.

I trust that I don't have to tell you what's going to happen in the next chapter, right? Please don't hurt me.

Loten.