Yes! Finally! Plot action! I promised it, and so here it is! And I'm being mean. A double cliffy. Hah. Lots of reviews last chap, thank you guys! I'm also enabling anonymous reviews, too, so yeah. xP

Adagio to a Wolf - thank you! Even being a girl, I find Numair's POV so much easier/more fun to write from. He's just so hopeless! Maybe it's cause we all wish we could find a guy as wonderfully sweet as him, so on my part, I make up for it by writing about him.

Horseluvr13 - thank you! It means a lot! Oh, and btw, I was looking at your list of favorite authors, and one of the other authors you favorite'd is one of my best friends from school! Small world, huh?

angelic-ninja - Emotion is good. Sometimes it's easy, and sometimes it's ridiculously hard to make it realistic!

Jess - Ooh, fluffy then ;) I guess it was, except silly Daine doesn't realize it. Yet. -wink-

Fyliwion - thank you!! Not as slow as Tammy's, though - my Numair must feel lucky. He'll only have to endure like a few weeks of pain, rather than months.

Starling Rising - I've always thought that Numair did see it, like you said, he's too smart not too! But, he didn't want to see it, so he ignored it, and it would take a lot to admit it to himself. Rereading RotG, I was sorta like, "Hm, a sudden-realization thing doesn't seem very Numair..." so that's why I did it my way. Oh, and that line is probably my favorite line in the story! I laughed out loud when writing it.

Irish Ninja Chick - It was a bit of stretch with her magic, but hey, it got him to admit he loved her. And she'll feel better, I promise. Thanks, and yeah, everyone seems to think the majority of their own work sucks, at least I'm not alone!

EDITED


"They're getting closer!" yelled Alanna over the ramparts. "Archers, get ready!"

The handpicked Riders that Onua and Thayet had sent her rapidly fit arrows to strings with well-practiced ease. The Legann archers were slightly slower, but their stance and aim was strong. Three hurroks dipped too low, and met their end with arrows in their throats. Bodies fell with a sickening crash onto the rocks outside the castle. Alanna grimaced.

"Notch!" she commanded.

The archers who had already fired had arrows on their strings again. Another stream of hurroks poured in, this time with Stormwings and flying monkeys, the latter of which began to breath a dense, yellow fog over the wall. Cursing and coughing, Alanna lit her hand with a spark of purple fire, trying to dispel the mist.

A shrieking male Stormwing was heading straight for her, and Alanna barely managed to jump out of the way and draw her sword. The Stormwing wheeled around deftly, screeching in bloodlust and spiraling down for another strike. Alanna dipped and thrusted, driving her blade deep into his bare chest. Blood spattered all over her arm. Disgusted, she yanked her sword back, and the Stormwing fell to the ground, dead.

"Serves you right," she muttered, pushing out more magic and clearing the fog enough to see the ramparts. Two of her archers were dead. But many more immortals lay around them, shot down with arrows or blasts of mage fire. The last two hurroks retreated.

"Lady Knight!" called the head of the castle archers, Adémar, a dark-skinned, thickset man. "To the east!"

Whipping around, Alanna saw that the three Copper Isles ships were readying an enormous catapult. Mages lifted huge rocks from out of the ocean for projectiles. "East!" she ordered the archers. "Aim for the mages!"

Adémar relayed her orders, and as one, he and seven of the remaining archers fired towards the ship. Only one arrow met its mark, and the targeted mage crumbled, grasping his arm. "Just injured," said Adémar.

"It'll keep him out of action for a while," said Alanna. "Fire again!"

But the mages had learned from their injured comrade and had moved to the back of the ship where the arrows couldn't reach. "Brace yourself," warned Alanna, anticipating. "They're going to operate it by magic!" Sure enough, lights glittered around the catapult, and Legann's walls shook as huge rocks pummeled the base.

"Mithros, why are the Copper Isles even here?" exclaimed Adémar, standing up. The blast had knocked nearly everyone except Alanna to the ground.

"No idea," said Alanna harshly, "but I'm going to send them back where they came from. They are really starting to irritate me."

Adémar looked at her, clearly in awe of her intense demeanor. "Aim at anyone possible!" he called at last. "Anyone on the ships! Don't shoot unless you're sure! Fire at will!"

Alanna tried sending balls of her own purple fire at the ships, but the mages there were too powerful, and their combined Gifts blocked any magical attacks. Swearing profusely, Alanna turned to watch the battle raging in the northern fields as knights were caught in ground combat with killer unicorns and centaurs. The immortals had come out of nowhere, driving the forces at Port Legann into a desperate struggle to stay alive.

Even Thayet stood at the ramparts, firing arrow after arrow at any immortal she could reach. Grasping her ember, Alanna saw that blue fire surrounded the queen, and when a rock dropped from somewhere above the woman's head, it deflected off the magical shield. Clearly, Jon was taking no chances with his wife's safety.

Jon himself had to be forcibly restrained by the burly cook so he wouldn't rush out into battle himself. Even his royal orders wouldn't make the stubborn servant let him pass. All anyone would let him do is fire balls of blue flames at whatever immortal got past the castle archers. Alanna felt couldn't imagine how that would feel; he had trained as a knight, and yet no one would allow him into battle.

On the opposite wall, Lord Imrah stood with Tkaa and Kitten. The basilisk directed the dragonet, who screeched one high-pitched note, and two approaching monkeys turned to stone, fell, and shattered on the ground. Even without her ma and da to encourage her, Kitten was working as hard as any soldier to drive away the attackers. Imrah patted the dragon's head, then froze, apparently catching sight of something in the distance. He whipped around, meeting Alanna's gaze, and signaled with wide arcs of his arms. Two lone riders.

Bewildered, Alanna turned to Adémar. "Take full command!" The man nodded, and Alanna hurried down off the castle walls. Tkaa met her halfway across the court, where Jon was blasting down a stray hurrok.

"Two riders?" Alanna asked urgently. "From the north?"

"Yes," said Tkaa in his deep, calming voice. "Riding fast. One horse dark, the other dappled. The riders were cloaked and armed."

"We have bigger problems than two riders, Lioness," said Jon dryly. Alanna whipped around, glaring at him.

"From the north, Jon," she hissed. "They could be messengers from Caynn. Or Corus. Risking their lives to come here." Her voice lowered, barely daring to hope. "Or the Swoop."

Jon stared at her intently, his blue eyes blazing. "And they could be deadly mages."

Alanna knew he had a point, but she didn't want to admit it. She glared at him and didn't say a word.

"Ready yourself," Jon said at last, "and let them through the gates."

Alanna dashed to the wooden doors, which were barricaded shut to lessen the risk of immortals surging through. Seeing Imrah's signal out of the corner of her eye, she motioned to the gatekeepers to open the gates. Bracing herself, she filled one hand with a ball of purple fire and gripped her sword in the other. To her surprise, Jon moved up across from her, sword in hand. She was about to protest, but he cut her off before she could speak.

"I'm not helpless," he said, "and you're not invincible."

Alanna opened her mouth to reply, to insist that her king stay safe, but suddenly the doors flew open and the two riders dashed through, skidding to halt. Both riders were fully cloaked and large, like Tkaa had reported. Alanna whipped her sword up to one man's throat, while Jon did the same to the other. The man raised a hand and pulled off the hood of his cloak, and Alanna gasped.

"George!"


A cool morning breeze blew lightly across Daine's face, making her shiver the sudden chill. But there was something beside her – she couldn't tell what quite yet – but it was something big and warm. She snuggled in close to it, enjoying the soft touch.

Opening her eyes, she realized in mild surprise that the big warm thing was Numair, lying with one hand holding hers and the other around her waist. Her face was lying against his warm chest, and their bodies were pressed close under the blanket. Daine frowned, trying to remember how she had ended up falling asleep beside her teacher. She wasn't complaining, by any means, but she was confused.

Everything came back in a rush – the sudden emptiness in her soul when she couldn't sense any of the People. The night had closed in on her, threatening; she was alone. Daine could remember being terrified, to the point that she wanted to run away from everything, towards the People, the part of her that was suddenly missing.

But then Numair was there, holding her, and somehow his touch had filled the hole in her chest. She knew she should move – she could only imagine Numair's thoughts on this – but it was so comfortable. Daine ran her fingers lightly over a small scar on his collarbone. I wonder how he got that, she thought idly. Pressing her palm flat against his chest, she felt his heart beating calmly and steadily under her hand.

With a tiny smile, the girl curled back under Numair's arm, knowing the peace could not last much longer. They had to be ready as soon as possible. Numair needed remove the protective spells around the camp, and then they could see if Ozorne would find them. All the same, Daine didn't want to get up.

The feeling of being empty lingered in her memory, and it scared her more than almost anything she had ever experienced. Numair's arms around her was her shelter. It was her safety. And it stirred something inside her that she couldn't be concerned with understanding.

But, at the moment, only one fear was prominent in her tired mind. What if, as soon as Numair let her go, all the emptiness came rushing back? Daine shivered, worried. Suddenly, Numair stirred, and her heart sank. He was waking up – he'd realize, he'd move, he'd leave.

"Daine?" the man mumbled, his eyes opening blearily.

"Mhmm," Daine murmured, rubbing her nose absently on his near his collarbone. His hand threaded tenderly through her messy hair.

"Daine," he said, his voice soft and gentle. But with an abrupt pause, his hand froze on her hair and he sat up quickly, causing Daine's head to fall painfully to the ground.

"Ow," grumbled Daine, rubbing her head and glaring at him from the ground. "What was that for?"

"Sorry," Numair said quickly. "I was just a bit – surprised, that's all."

"So was I," Daine admitted, grinning up at him. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, which hung loosely at his shoulders, and he tried to smile back, but it came out more like a strained grimace.

"We'd best get up," Numair said abruptly, rising and taking a few steps towards the embers of their fire. Daine took a deep breath when he was gone – she was bracing herself for the hole in her heart to open up again.

But she didn't feel that same physically painful blankness. There was only an odd sense of disappointment. Relieved that she wasn't falling apart again, she stood and followed Numair to their bags.

"Pack up manually today?" Daine asked when she was next to him, thinking it'd be best to conserve the mage's firepower.

"Yes," said Numair, not looking at her. But he raised his arm, and, with a flash of glittering black magic, he sent all their supplies neatly into the two bags. Confused, Daine frowned at him.

"Numair, did you even hear my question?"

"What?" he said, turning at last to look at her.

"I asked if we should pack up manually today, so you could save your strength, and you said yes, but you still used magic."

Numair frowned too. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted this morning, I suppose."

"I can tell," Daine said, smiling a little and leaning on his strong arm. She felt his tense muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. "I don't like the idea of sitting like ducks and waiting for Ozorne to find us either. But we don't really have a choice, do we?"

"No," said Numair, still standing tense. "Are you ready for me to take down the spells?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," replied Daine. She stepped just a pace away from him while he worked his magic, a few barely visible shimmers floating in the air for split second. "That's it?" asked Daine, a little surprised.

"That is it," said Numair grimly, crossing his arms. "Now, we wait."

"Fun," said Daine, sitting down on the sand. Numair raised an eyebrow at her, acting like his usual self at last, but his eyes were still dark with concern. "No point being foot-sore when Ozorne comes along," she said. "I'm just as capable of shifting from a sitting position as a standing one, and you can cast spells just as easily too." She patted the ground beside her, wanting to be near Numair again. With a sigh, the lanky mage sat, but he settled with his back to her.

"Keeping watch both directions," he explained, predicting her question with flawless accuracy.

Smiling, Daine leaned against his back. For a few minutes they sat in nervous anticipation, Daine feeling very exposed without the knowledge of Numair's powerful cloaking spells keeping her safe. But his presence, at least, made her feel better than any spell he could devise.

"We're going to fall asleep if he doesn't turn up soon," said Daine dryly after the sweltering sun had crawled a significant ways into the sky. "What if he's not even after us?"

"He is," said Numair quietly. "Don't ask me how, but I can tell."

"Well, if you're sure."

"This was your idea in the first place, you know."

"I know, but - "

Out of nowhere, a blinding flash of bright light filled the air, making spots glimmer in Daine's whited-out vision. Stumbling to her feet, the young wildmage reached out and found Numair's hand, grasping it tightly to make sure he was still beside her. His hand tightened briefly around hers, an odd sort of energy pouring into her.

Two figures, hardly discernible from the whiteness around them, were moving towards the two mages. Heart pounding, Daine blinked as the light began to fade and stood close to Numair. She tried to focus on the approaching shapes. There was still so many spots in her vision; she squinted, and Numair suddenly stepped out in front of her.

Looking out from around Numair's protective form, her mind didn't immediately comprehend what she saw. Half of it was what she had expected. And the other half was completely beyond belief. Glancing up, she could see Numair staring at the two figures with the same open-mouthed expression Daine knew she herself must be wearing, too.

This wasn't something that was possible. It wasn't that it shouldn't be happening; it was that it couldn't be happening.

"Surprised to see me, dearie?"