Another REALLY long chapter! I'm not really loving it, but I think it'll get better... Writing them newly hooked up is so hard, bleh. So enjoy this, and remember, school has started again so sorry in advance for a possible lag in updates.
twilight1650, megchelle, angelic-ninja, Adagio to a Wolf - thank you guys so much, I'm glad you liked it!
Horseluvr13 - thank you! And no, most definitely not the end, and most definitely a big battle coming up.
Jess - Woot, my favorite moment, always. She needed reassurance, and thankfully, Numair did the right thing for once! Thank you!
Serilia - Yayyy! Aww, yes, evil dragons, unless they're Kit. Don't worry, they'll be plenty of Numair/Daine fluff now, I think mortal danger will help Numair get past his weird sense of honor and help them open up to each other, etc... which is why the dragon is helpful!
silverflight8 - thank you! Muahaha, I hope it's surprising, though it's hard to come up with something both plausible and unique. I think it's specifics that make the difference.
.111 - thank you so much, it was tough though! Lol, that's fine, it's just good to know people are reading!
Starling Rising - I wish I could have done a he-rescues-her-and-loses-control thing, cause I just melt for that, and it fits better, but TP did that, so I tried something different. Thank you!!
xxTunstall Chickxx - Rofl, you worded that well, I think; that was almost exactly what I was thinking xD
purple smurfs r real - It'll get worked out, they're taking another step towards it here. Battle comes and goes, and it'll come soon!
EDITED
"The troops from Corus and Caynn are out," Jon reported, heaving a sigh. "And the mages from the City. Finally."
"Where exactly are they?" Onua asked, bending over the intricate map. She was glad to be included in these conferences with Thayet, Jon, and Alanna. Then again, as the perceived "commander" of all the foot soldiers and mounted fighters, including her Riders and the Own, she supposed she didn't have any choice. They were all, once again, in the dank underground rooms, with candles and mage-fire providing the only light. It was the only place in the entire castle that they could count on privacy, even with Alanna's guard-spells.
Jon pointed to a inked mark between what looked like two sets of hills. A valley would give soldiers protection, but also was a slight tactical disadvantage during fights - especially against opponents in the air. Like a dragon. "Here," the king said, before moving his finger. "Here. And here."
"Good spots," Onua murmured, leaning back and studying the map. It was a brilliant tactical map, with many symbols and keys to show the landscape and troops. And yet Onua didn't know how much placing and planning could really help in the long run.
"Where are Raoul and Gary?" asked Alanna, sounding concerned. George glanced at her and rubbed her shoulder.
"And Buri?" put in Thayet.
"Raoul is leading the eastern party. Buri is with him, I believe. Harailt heads the mages. The western party is being led by Sir Rocelin. Gary wanted to lead it, but I need him at the castle. He told me off for that; saying he'd still been keeping in shape and would be as good on the field as anyone." Jon sighed, his face strained as he rubbed his forehead. Onua's heart twanged in sympathy for him; war was hard on even the strongest of friendships. "It's awful enough with everyone here in such direct danger. The immortals are obviously targeting Legann more than anywhere else, and now I had to put more of my friends in danger by asking them to come fight with us. I couldn't ask Gary to come too. I wanted him to stay with the children."
The man shot a look up at Thayet, whose carefully calm face cracked for just a moment, her pain and worry visible in the premature lines on her forehead. "I'm glad," she said kindly. "Too many people are trapped here at Legann. We need Gary at home."
Jon and Alanna nodded at the same time, and the king started rolling up the maps. "When the immortals attack again, we attack in return," he explained. "The other troops will aid us. We're just trying to survive until we can find a way to win. It's the most we can do, and at this point, there's no hope of aid from other countries."
Everyone's faces were set in identical grim lines. Onua watched silently as, one by one, everyone around the table rose and compulsively straightened their clothes. "I'm going to make sure the children are out of trouble," Alanna said nonchalantly, but there was clearly emotion behind her words. George went with her out the door, leaving Jon and Thayet, who fell back into their chairs.
"Why'd you stand up in the first place?" Onua asked, trying to grin. Thayet returned an equally forced smile.
"I guess I just didn't know what else do to," she sighed anxiously. "I just haven't been thinking right lately."
Onua understood perfectly. The stress they were under left little room for any other thoughts. "I'll go find Daine and Numair, and see if they know anything about that gods-cursed dragon," she said, rising from her chair. Jon nodded wearily.
"Tell me when you find them," asked Thayet.
"Of course," Onua promised, then left, hoping fervently that she'd find good news, or some sort of information, at least. Anything was better than waiting like a helpless colt for the dragon to swoop in and pick them off – with all of them powerless to stop it.
Hours passed before Daine and Numair finally got through every book or scroll on the Pre-Human Era and dragons. They had found only little things; little bits of information about dragons or their world. Nothing that would ensure their victory. Too much was still held up to chance. Numair sighed in exhaustion, leaning back and ignoring the subsequent throb of pain in his shoulder. Alanna's going to flay me if I keep on straining it, he thought idly to himself.
Tightening his strong arm around Daine's sleeping form, he put off the moment when he knew he'd have to wake her and proceed up to the world again. In the cool, dry air of Legann's dungeons, everything seemed frozen and peaceful. Absently he brushed a stray piece of hair away from her forehead, only to let it fall back again just a moment later. Noises from above echoed vaguely in their little cavern. Letting his mind wander, Numair momentarily forgot the war, the dragon, and everything that came along with it. It felt like the only people in the world were himself and Daine – together.
Had it really happened? One moment she was shouting at him, and the next, it was all different. Had she just been scared and needed some sort of comfort? Was he just the person that happened to be available at the time? His mind tormented him with thoughts of Daine awaking, embarrassed or angry, and determined to keep her distance from him. No, Numair thought firmly, driving the images away. She may be young, but she is sensible. She would talk it out. We will talk it out.
But that still wouldn't soften the blow.
And what if she didn't feel that way? Part of him wondered how she could really know if she were in love, as young as she was. But the look in her eyes had convinced him she was making a decided, conscious decision, not influenced by fear or a harmless infatuation. Her gaze had been so sure. But they hadn't yet questioned anything. They would have to, at some point. They would have to decide what they were. Knowing their lives as servants of the kingdom, time for them would always be rushed and limited. If their love had come about as a byproduct of a stressful war, then what would become of them afterward?
We will think about that when the time comes, Numair decided at last. Watching the last candle melt down into a puddle of shining wax, he knew there was more ahead of them than either of them could possibly imagine. In their lives, in their futures, in their dreams.
A dark silence settled inside Daine's mind, and a feeling of warmth wrapped around her body. It was vastly different than the cold fear she had grown used to. She felt caught in a sort of limbo between one place and another, and she couldn't tell which side was home. She let herself float in the middle, waiting for something to happen. Sparkling lights glittered in the blackness around her. It reminded her of Numair's magic. The thought comforted her, and her mind carefully sorted through her array of confused thoughts and memories.
She knew she loved him. Of that much, she was sure. But everything else was a hazy shade of grey; whether or not he loved her, and what they were going to do during and after the war. It was too much to think about. Yet she trusted Numair - even if she didn't trust herself. He would never intentionally harm her. She couldn't make herself believe he was playing with her. She could believe that, possibly, for some miraculous reason, Numair loved her. But she couldn't truly know until more time had passed. And that time would pass as it always did, never stopping or allowing her to catch up. She knew they would make it through together, as they always had. Somehow. The black magic reminding her so strongly of her teacher wove around her body and tickled at her skin, soft and familiar.
Suddenly her dream shifted; the feeling of Numair's Gift faded until she stood at a scene that sparked something in her memory. Scraggly trees stretched sharp and broken limbs high into the sky. On flat, dusty ground near where Daine stood, there were the crumbling ruins of a castle, barely passing for more than a pile of rubble and debris. Looking around, Daine somehow recognized the place – it was Legann. But it was different. So drastically different that it was hardly even familiar. Fields that were once fertile and rich had been sown through with salt and lay barren; dense forests were reduced to pitiful stumps and shrubbery. A cold wind blew from the east, scattering pebbles across the ruined castle, and bringing a salty tang that caused Daine to whip around and face the sea. The air was salty, but it didn't have the soft tang of the ocean and wildlife. It was darker. Daine watched in horror as red waves hit the shore thickly, breaking slowly with sickening splashes.
The sea had turned to blood.
Numair held Daine tightly, resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to wake her soon. Her head rested on his shoulder while one of her hands was folded inside his, a small fist that was completely covered by Numair's large palm. Her hair flew in every direction, and it carried with it the scent that Numair had come to love, of musk and hay and light soaps. Before Numair could make himself wake her, Daine shifted suddenly in his arms and her eyes opened. She took a few deep breaths and didn't say anything, her eyes troubled. At the same time, Numair heard a familiar voice calling softly from the staircase outside.
"Are you dolts still awake down there?" The door opened quietly, revealing the worried face of Onua as the horsemistress poked her head inside. "If you two got any information - "
She stopped immediately when she caught sight of them. Numair shot her a pleading glance, and wide-eyed, Onua nodded and shut the door soundlessly. Looking down, Numair realized that Daine hadn't moved, and an inexplicable feeling of relief washed over him. He didn't want everyone else aware of them just yet – especially when it was still so unclear exactly what they were. At least Onua could be trusted to keep her mouth shut until they'd talked. Numair titled Daine's face up to meet her eyes, concerned. "Magelet?"
"Nightmare," she muttered, flicking her eyes to the ground. "I'm okay."
Numair decided not to press, instead letting her slide off his lap and on to the dust-coated floor. She started to pick up books at random, place them onto shelves, and roll up the scattered scrolls neatly. She kept her gaze down. Silence hung thickly in the air until Numair couldn't stand it any longer.
"Look at me?" he asked at last, after what felt like hours since she had left his arms.
She stopped and met his eyes, smiling apologetically. "Sorry."
"It's okay," he replied gently. He stood to help her clear up the mess they had made. "Daine," he began, even though each word was like a thorn in his heart. "If – if you don't want to - "
"No," she interrupted firmly. "Please don't - apologize, or wish it all away. Please."
Numair nodded, unable to think of anything else to do. If he had tried to say it was a mistake, or he hadn't meant to, or didn't want to, he would have been lying anyway, and Daine could always see straight through even his most carefully constructed fabrications.
"We can talk after all this is over, can't we?" she stated calmly. "If we really need to. This is enough for now, isn't it?" She reached over and gently brushed her hand against his, making Numair's skin to tingle. On impulse, he took her hand and squeezed it, rubbing his fingers over the rough archer's calluses on her palms.
"Of course," he agreed, hardly able to believe that she still seemed so calm. His own heart was dancing in his chest. Daine hesitated for a second, then stood on her toes to press a short kiss to his lips, her hand still folded inside of his.
Before Numair could move, Onua appeared to not be able to put off her business for any longer. A loud knock echoed through the dungeon-room, making Daine and Numair jump apart and scramble to appear like they had been going about normal, teacher-student activities. Numair snatched a book and leaned against the table; Daine bent to pick up a dropped lantern. Onua strode into the room.
"Found anything?" she said slowly, her sharp eyes never leaving Numair's face. Numair cringed, recognizing the look at once.
"Nothing," answered Daine. "Nothing too important, anyway. Just little things."
Onua nodded, and flicked her gaze to Daine. "Kitten's up with Alanna, George, and the kids. She's still looking sad; not even Alan's whistling will cheer her up."
Immediately Daine bit her lip and turned towards the door, pausing with her hand on the handle and glancing at Numair. Her eyes were cloudy; there was nothing Numair could read in them. She whipped around and was out of sight. The moment she was gone, Numair deflated into the chair. He knew he'd need mental preparation for Onua's inevitable onslaught of questions.
But the horsemistress simply stared at him carefully for a long moment. Numair cracked open one eye, watching her warily. To his relief, she smiled slightly and shook her head. "You owe me," she said at last, but with a much more cheerful tone than Numair had expected. "I am going to walk out of here and pretend like I never saw anything. I won't tell Thayet or Alanna either. And you are going to tell me when you're ready."
"Thank you," he breathed. "You are the most gods-blessed, wonderful woman I have ever - "
She grinned and held up a hand, interrupting him mid-sentence. "Don't make the gods angry now, not in the middle of this war. Think about what you're saying?"
"Well. You are still very near the top of the list," amended Numair. He hugged her briefly in thanks before she waved him away and headed out the door.
"You'd better get up soon, too, Numair, and tell Jon anything you know."
Numair started to nod wearily, then realized it didn't matter, as Onua had already left the room. He waited a moment before following her. Out in the open again, Numair was nearly blinded by the bright sunlight and blinked for about a minute to try and get his gaze adjusted. So much had happened in the few hours he had spent underground that it seemed like ages since he had been in fresh air and light.
"Report, Numair?"
It was Jon. Numair turned to his king, catching sight of Thayet and Onua behind him. Onua's face was carefully calm and expressionless. In the distance, Numair could see Daine with Kitten and Alanna's children, and for a moment, he forgot what he had been about to say.
"Numair?"
"Sorry," he said quickly, his mind flicking back to the present. "We didn't find much. Dragons are - formidable. Like anything that flies, they are susceptible to arrows, but their tough hide makes it impossible for anything other than magically enhanced crossbow bolts to do them significant harm. And unlike most immortals, dragons are astonishingly intelligent. Because of the stores of knowledge passed down from generation to generation, their intellects are far greater than that of any human. It is also due, in part, to their longevity – they are immortal, just like many in the Divine Realms, but unlike the masses, they do not generally seek conflict just for the sake of it. So they survive, while many others are killed in violent skirmishes. Which makes it all the more unusual that this dragon has sought out a battle. It will learn our strategies and only then choose the best way to attack. It'll be like fighting a brilliant general - who also happens to have a massive, dangerous army and is nearly invincible."
"Well, that was a very long-winded way of saying we're done for," muttered Alanna.
"If they're so invincible, what can we do?" asked Jon.
"We survive," Numair replied flatly. It was the best plan he could come up with. "If no more immortals are coming through the hole, then if we can get rid of the majority of them, it'll be easier to take on the dragon alone. With additional troops-"
"We have three other groups surrounding the immortals that can attack when needed."
"Good. We can take out the immortals and then have the dragon on it's own. It'll still be hard, but we won't have annoyances to deal with then."
"Annoyances," muttered Thayet, shaking her head. "Goddess. How did a dragon even get here? The last one took dozens of mages, didn't it? And it was younger and smaller, too. And why is it attacking? It's smart enough to not follow anyone blindly and we didn't do anything to harm it."
"Kitten's mother was forcibly pulled from behind an intact barrier, as was every immortal at that time. Every immortal needed to be pulled to this world by magic. In this case, Ozorne's hole in the barrier is big enough for a dragon to come through, along with the massive amounts of immortals. No other hole has ever been big enough for immortals to pass through without a mage's assistance. As for the motives?" Numair sighed, wishing he knew all the answers. "Perhaps it's just a pent-up desire to fight. Perhaps it wants Kitten."
"All that matters is that we're going to be killed if we don't do anything," Onua said fiercely. "I'll go get some of the archers armed with crossbows, and leave the rest with their longbows. I think we should attack the immortal army, leaving the dragon defenseless, instead of waiting for it and the next wave. Maybe it'd be easier if the dragon were alone."
"I agree," Jon nodded. "Go. Speak to Raoul, Harailt, and Rocelin and tell them to get ready as well. We'll attack as one."
"I want to fight as well," Numair said as Onua walked away, shouting orders.
"Your shoulder - " began Jon.
" - is fine," finished Numair, shrugging and only feeling a slight throb. "Jon, you know very well that no one else has the magical power to even have a chance at stopping that dragon. And perhaps Daine can talk to it as well."
The king paused a moment, then nodded sharply. "Don't get yourself killed, Numair."
"I'll try," the mage promised. Jon accepted his words and waved him off. Numair didn't envy the king's current position – having to send one's friends into a deadly battle must be one of the hardest things he could ever imagine.
The castle was flying into life around him. People passed in every direction, with horses and weapons and grim expressions. Quickening his pace, Numair made his way across the courtyard towards the place where he'd seen Daine, out in front of the infirmary. His heart throbbed as he realized something. They had finally made a plan to combat the dragon. They had a strategy – to fell its army, and then use Daine's wild magic coupled with Numair's power to subdue it, if that became absolutely necessary. Such a simple, barely discussed plan – and yet it could be the deciding factor in the entire war. More than anything, Numair wanted Daine to stay safe. Perhaps he could convince to her stay underground, let him fight alone, instead –
No. She would never consent to do that. It was one of the things he loved about her, yet it also caused him incomprehensibly large amounts of anxiety. But Daine was vital to the fight. Only she had the chance of communicating with the dragon if they could find the opportunity; perhaps they could solve things peacefully. And she was vital to him. After everything they'd been through – and especially now - Numair didn't think he'd ever be able to fight without her at his side. Come, my little magelet, he thought wearily. We have to go kill all the gods-cursed immortals that are trying to tear our entire world apart if we ever want to spend more than brief minutes together reading ancient scrolls in dusty dungeons.
He sighed at the irony of such idle thoughts in such a chaotic time. It was so typical.