Description: Numair faces off against Inar Hadensra.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tamora Pierce. I also do not own anything to do with the Runes mentioned in this chapter. I borrowed them from looking online.
Author's Note: Choreographing this fight took me ages! We don't see very much of Numair's true power in the books, and we only see one mage's duel. From those bits and pieces, we know that big spells drain him very quickly, so from that we can conclude that the two powerful men don't spend half a day hurling spells at each other. The only time Numair has been in a long fight was when he was holding the spells off Pirate's Swoop, which is why I decided to make this fight mostly a psychic battle of wills. Plus, this can get quite brutal on a psychological level which would explain why Numair calls it the hardest fight.
This is a long chapter, but I didn't want to split the fight in two so bear with me on this one.
Chapter 15
Tents were quickly erected as the army set up camp under the cover of Wingstar's protection spells. The army was situated a day's march north of Port Legann, and in the morning they planned to start cutting through the dense forest ready for the attack on the enemy camp. Numair spent the night with the army but early the next morning he sought out the dragon to ask her a favour.
"Would you be able to teach me the spell to conceal myself from magical detection?"
Wingstar regarded the mage with slit-pupiled eyes. – I suppose it could be done. You proved yourself capable enough in our lands. It would take several days for you to master, however. –
The mage cursed under his breath. "Nevermind," he muttered.
– Do you wish to learn to further your knowledge or for some specific purpose? –
"The army will begin their advance under the cover of your spells, and I had hoped to position myself in the north without Inar Hadensra able to sense my Gift."
– That is easily rectified. –
The dragon extended her silver claws and scratched at her side until she loosened a scale. Gripping it delicately between her claws, Wingstar muttered words in a language the mage didn't recognise and breathed on the scale. It glowed gold for a few seconds before returning to its grey-gold colour. The dragon handed the scale to the mage who humbly accepted it.
– That scale will mask your presence and stop anyone from being able to sense your magic. When you wish the spell to end simply destroy the scale. –
He really wished he didn't have to destroy the scale, but acknowledged he was speaking to a master in relation to his own limited understanding. The mage thanked Wingstar graciously and wished her good hunting in the fight.
Numair left the army after breakfast receiving another embrace from the queen as she wished him luck. He made his own way north, wishing he had Spots with him, and hoped his gelding was safe in Port Legann with Daine. Thoughts of his magelet made his heart ache as Numair touched the locket on his left wrist for reassurance. She would be safe with the king by now, explaining their plan and reunited with Kitten and Tkaa in addition to having Diamondflame for protection. He didn't need to worry about his darling magelet. It took a great deal of effort, but he forced thoughts of Daine from his mind. He couldn't afford to be distracted over the coming days.
It took most of a day's hike to reach his designated position by a shallow river north of the enemy camp. The mage had stopped only for a quick bite of lunch before continuing. That night he warded his small camp and ate a good meal before settling down to sleep. It was eerily quiet without the rustle of nocturnal animals or the hoot of an owl, but Numair was glad the animals had listened to the Wildmage and were avoiding the area. The next day, the mage walked the perimeter of his battle ground burying his caged black opal pieces. Even after cutting the crystal and staff, they remained perfectly attuned to him. The rest of the day he spent mediating and gathering his Gift in preparation for his fight the next day.
Numair rose an hour before dawn to pack up his crude camp. The mage didn't have breakfast, knowing he would only throw it up. If everyone survived this battle, he could pray that Jon and Thayet might hold a banquet and he would eat then. Opening the locket on his left wrist, Numair stroked the smoky curl with a thumb and glanced at the image of Daine one last time, sending a silent prayer to the Great Mother Goddess to protect his love this day. He doubted the goddess would be listening when she had her own troubles dealing with Uusoae, but if one prayer reached her, he hoped it would be his. Closing the locket, he put all thoughts of Daine out of his mind and focussed on the sky waiting for the signal.
As the sun crested the horizon, a feral shriek split the air as Wingstar appeared high above the enemy camp, blazing in glory. That was the signal to attack Numair and the army had been waiting for. The mage snapped the dragon scale in half, revealing his location to anyone with the Gift, and formed a speaking spell.
"Good morning, Inar Hadensra," his voice was steady and polite. "I thought you might like to join me and have a little chat."
"Salmalín," the northern mage's harsh voice snarled. "What tricks are you up to this time?"
"No tricks, Hadensra. This ends today," Numair said calmly. "Do you see the dragon hovering above your camp? She is the signal for battle to commence and for our side to destroy you once and for all."
"I thought you had fled like a good little coward," the Scanran mocked.
"I'm afraid not," he replied dismissively, "I'm waiting for you beside the river. I thought we could keep this contest between us. It would hardly be fitting if one of us were to be killed by a stray arrow or spear. There would be no glory in defeating you if a mere soldier took the lucky blow."
Inar Hadensra laughed cruelly. "I shall join you, Salmalín – and I shall come alone. If only so I can destroy you myself and display your bones around my neck for all to see."
Numair ended the speech spell and shuddered involuntarily. The trap was set with himself as the bait. He took up his position and knelt in wait for the Scanran's arrival. The black robe didn't have to wait long before he felt Inar Hadensra's Gift nearby. Numair rose to his feet, scanning the landscape for the blonde mage. He responded instinctively as a large ruby fireball burst from empty air, meeting it with his own black sparkling fire spell. Their Gifts met explosively sending a huge mushroom cloud into the sky and cloaking the battlefield with their combined magic. The black robe stood his ground, using his magical senses and not his eyes to locate the Scanran mage. He desperately needed to lure the Northerner in so he could raise the shield and spring his trap. Changing his sight, the black robe spotted the enemy's ruby coloured Gift. His fire blast was met by another as Inar Hadensra dropped his invisibility spell, sneering contemptuously.
"So here you are," the Scanran mage stalked forward. "Ozorne was right, you do prefer to cower from war rather than engage in it."
"I never had a lust for killing if that's what you mean," Numair replied, holding steady, while keeping a sharp eye on the Northerner's approach. "But I'm not the one hiding behind invisibility spells."
"Defeating you will be easy if you're too afraid to kill me," Hadensra taunted, taking the final step into the trap.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that." The black robe snapped his fingers activating his hidden shield.
Inar Hadensra immediately sensed the barrier go up, enclosing the pair. With a snarl like a caged animal, he hurled chain lightning at the black robe. Numair raised a personal shield to deflect the lightning, sending it uselessly into the barrier to be absorbed by the crystals. The Scanran raised his hands roaring the cantrip for meteor barrage, sending rocks hurtling towards the black robe. Numair strengthened his own shield but was still driven back as the rocks crashed behind him into the river. He shouted his own incantation, opening a fissure beneath the tall Northerner's feet. Inar Hadensra dropped into the chasm as Numair shouted the word to close it, already breathing hard. The ground sealed but instantly exploded upward in a spray of sharp fragments that sliced at the black robe's cheek and shirt. The Scanran mage hurled another flurry of chain lightning which Numair blocked using the exploded earth itself. The lightning struck, scorching the ground, its unbridled heat turning it to earth-coloured glass.
The black robe was sweating profusely knowing he couldn't continue like this. Inar Hadensra was a far more skilled war mage, and Numair couldn't defeat him with raw power alone like a lot of enemies. The two were far too evenly matched, and the black robe just didn't have the thirst for blood the Scanran possessed. His instinct was to shield and defend not to attack unless pressed. His main strengths were esoteric knowledge and university learning but using a word of power was absolutely out of the question! That left him with his innate talents. His magical sight would aid him if Hadensra tried to use an invisibility spell again, but otherwise wouldn't be of much use. Numair's other lesser-known talent was his ability to capture a person's mind without the use of a shiny object.
Hadensra raised his hands sending a flaming inferno towards the black robe. Instead of raising a shield, Numair punched through the flames parting them and charged forward. It wasn't what the Scanran had expected, barely raising his shield in time. The black robe snapped his fingers, catching the blonde mage's attention. The instant his brown eyes met the Scanran's single blue eye, he had him.
Numair stood in a dark empty space hearing Inar Hadensra's manic laughter all around him. The darkness vanished and the mage was falling through empty sky towards deadly spikes. Shapeshifting quickly, the black robe changed into a hawk spreading his wings and soaring over them. The ground trembled and a spike shot up in front of him. Numair shrieked and wheeled before crashing into the rock as another spike rose behind him. He soon found himself entombed in rock spikes as more shot from the ground to impale the mage. He shifted back to his human self, touching the rock spires, transforming them into sand as they dissolved at his feet. The sand lost its cohesiveness and Numair began to sink as if being dragged under by quicksand. Taking a deep breath, he raised a finger and drew the runes to turn the sand to water. The mage knew he was fighting against the Scanran's mental defences and not real phenomenon which, so long as he remembered this, allowed him to go deeper into the enemy's mind. Numair still retained a sense of his own body standing before Inar with his finger's touching the northerner's temples. Forming the spells for water breathing the mage sank deeper until he reached the Scanran's core. It pulsed with ruby fire as Numair reached out a hand to touch the northerner's Gift. Flames raced into his mind causing the mage to scream in pain as Inar tried to incinerate him. The black robe gritted his teeth, fighting against the agony and enforced his will upon Hadensra, forming the feeling of vulnerability.
The pain stopped as the darkness formed into a village in the northern mountains of Scanra. Grey clouds hung overhead threatening rain while the dirt streets were slick with mud. Deep tracks in the ground showed where the heavy traffic of carts were driven through the village. Down a side alley Numair spotted a young Inar Hadensra dressed in rags. The blonde boy was thin and lanky showing the effects of too few meals. The black robe couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy for the boy having been in a similar situation himself, even as he began to syphon the other mage's Gift out of his body.
The boy slunk out of the shadows and darted towards an elderly man carrying a bag of food. Young Inar slammed into the man knocking him to the floor as he snatched the bag from his hands. Never losing momentum, the boy darted down another two alleyways hiding behind some crates. Opening the bag, the boy began to stuff his face with bread and cheese not noticing the three young lads who surrounded him.
"Well, look what we got 'ere," the first young man sneered.
"What's in the bag, runt?" the second boy pointed to the pack.
"Ain't none of your business what I got," Inar glared at the three boys.
"I don't think he wants to share, lads," the first young man spoke again as the boys formed up around the boy.
"Get your own spoils. I ain't gotta share with the likes of you," Inar shouted sliding his hand unseen to his belt.
The first lad grabbed the boy roughly by the shoulder. "That's no way to speak to –"
The young man was cut off as Inar slashed his throat with a dagger, splattering blood over the boy's companions. He rounded on the other two only to be met with a blow to the face from the biggest of the two remaining boys, knocking him to the ground. Hadensra was like a wild thing, kicking and biting, as the boys tried to pin him down. The second lad attempted to wrestle the blade away but, instead, succeeded only in having it plunged into his side. The third youngster scrambled away until his back was up against the wall, looking around in terror. A malicious grin spread over young Inar's face as his opponent's eyes widened in horror.
"Please, I–" His pleas were cut off, becoming an inhuman scream as the boy vapourised, his ashes drifting into the wind.
Numair stood shellshocked, watching the scene unfold, unable to comprehend the ruthless nature of the young boy before him, as he stripped the remaining two lads of their possessions and grabbed the pack off the floor. The savage child stood to leave but stopped, turning to face the black robe.
"I was never soft like you, Salmalín," Inar grinned viciously, morphing into his adult self. "The North teaches you to be hard. Two can play at this game."
The streets melted away and Numair found himself in the Carthak gladiator arena chained between two posts. Looking around he could see the stands filled with mages and university professors, including Lindhall Reed. In front of him, seated on the royal dais sat Ozorne dressed in blood red robes with matching red beads in his braids and rubies glittering on his fingers and toes.
The imperial crier, standing beneath the throne, stepped forward to address the arena. "Numair Salmalín, formerly known as Arram Draper, you are to be executed for your crimes against the empire as dictated by His Most Serene and Imperial Majesty, Ozorne Muhassin Tasikhe. If the traitor wishes to beg for his life the emperor will now hear your pleas."
The mage glared at his former friend and spat on the sand. The emperor smiled triumphantly and clapped his hands as a slave stepped up behind Numair, using a long-spiked pole to pierce a hole in a barrel above his head. The mage raised his head as he watched a gelatinous liquid slowly swell from the hole until it dropped and fell onto his arm. The liquid fire began to burn and melt into his flesh as Numair lifted his head and began to laugh.
"You'll have to do better than that, Hadensra," he yelled as Ozorne morphed into the Scanran mage. "This happened to a simulacrum I created, not my actual flesh."
The chains vanished and Numair stood, dressed in his black mage robes looking ominous as the scene changed again.
It was difficult to track how much time passed as the two mages duelled in their minds, battling through memories both real and false. Numair saw how Inar was trained in magic through severe beatings when he got a spell wrong, and worse if he failed entirely. He learned how the Northener obtained his ruby eye and the first mage he killed with it. All the visions taught the black robe the sort of man he was dealing with and how the Scanran fought. Inar, however, only wanted to damage the black robe psychologically as he placed him back in the Carthaki cells and dungeons, making Numair relive his tortures before fleeing down alleyways and starving on the streets. Each time one of them gained control they syphoned power from the other mage, Inar absorbing the black robe's Gift into his ruby eye, whereas Numair drew it out of the Scanran into the air. Eventually, the black robe tried to trap the northerner's mind with a different tactic.
Inar walked through the door of a wooden cottage to be greeted by a beautiful blonde woman with delicate curves and brilliant blue eyes cooking at the hearth.
"Broth's nearly ready," she smiled at the blonde mage.
Inar returned the smile fondly as he approached the woman and wrapped his arms around her waist. The Scanran didn't have his ruby eye yet so Numair had no idea when this might be. He had chosen something he hoped would be a comforting memory that Hadensra wouldn't fight against.
Inar kissed the woman's neck while his hands slid under her top. "The broth can wait. I think I'm hungry for something else."
The woman turned to face the Scanran, her eyes dark with desire as they kissed passionately. Inar slowly led her towards the bedroom, helping her out of her blouse and skirts as they went. Opening the door, the blonde mage scooped the now naked woman into his arms and gently laid her on the bed, standing back to admire her body as she smiled lovingly at him. Then everything changed as her expression turned to one of anguish, her skin charring and smoking as if it were on fire. In fact, the entire room burned until all that was left was a charcoal shell and the woman on the bed was nothing but a scorched skeleton. Numair recoiled in disgust as Hadensra turned to face him his single blue eye burning with hatred.
"This is how I found Annika when I returned after a Copper Isles raiding party attacked our village," the Scanran snarled. "Take a good hard look, Salmalín. This was the day any compassion or sentiment I might have felt died. But thank you for showing me your own weakness."
Numair walked down the halls of Corus carrying several books in his arms. The Immortals War, as it had come to be known, had ended three years ago and the mage was enjoying the peace and quiet. He entered the suite of rooms he shared with Daine, placing his books on his desk and looked around for his lover. The mage heard noises from the bedroom and smiled hoping to convince the young woman to spend the afternoon with him. Numair opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw his lover in his bed on top of another man. She was thrusting her hips enthusiastically as she threw back her head crying out in pleasure as she climaxed.
"Daine…" the mage gasped feeling as if a knife had been driven through his heart.
The young woman turned to eye him scornfully, her cheeks flushed from sex.
"Numair. So, you finally left the library after all," she said flippantly.
"Why – Why would you do this?" he demanded, feeling his eyes begin to burn.
"You were right all along. I got bored of being with an old man," Daine said coldly.
The mage caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. His black mane was streaked with white and there were deep creases around his eyes and mouth.
"I decided I wanted someone who could keep up with me," the young woman continued. "Someone who wouldn't forget me over some new working. I want a man who wants more out of life than to lose himself in some dusty old book!"
Numair backed out of the room trembling unable to tear his gaze from the heartless look in Daine's eyes. He slammed the door, falling to his knees as a broken sob escaped his lips.
It a warm summer's day and a cool breeze brought the salty scent of the sea to his nose as he stood to enjoy the view from the cliffs near his tower.
"Papa!" two voices squealed in delight.
Numair turned to see two small girls running towards him, aged roughly about three and five. They had brown messy curls and their mother's features but his darker skin tone. The mage went to one knee as the girls threw themselves into his arms, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheeks.
"Tell us a story, Papa," the three-year-old beamed up at him.
"Mama says we're done helping with the horses," the five-year-old looked at him with earnest blue-grey eyes.
Numair chuckled happily lifting both girls as he stood, "And what story am I reading to you?"
The two children bombarded him with suggestions as he carried them towards the tower. The girls started arguing over whose idea was better when the mage paused at the door looking between their beautiful faces with a heavy heart.
"What's wrong, Papa?" the five-year-old asked.
"Nothing, sweetheart," Numair said placing the girls gently on the floor. "Why don't you go ahead and chose something. I'll join you in a moment."
The children raced inside bickering as the mage turned away feeling his heart wrench. A father should know the names of his daughters. Knowing this wasn't real but longing for it to be, he started to walk away and regain control of this mental battle.
"Papa!"
Numair whirled hearing his daughters scream in terror as a tauros burst from his tower, one girl under each arm. Of all the Immortals, that was the one he would never wish for any young girl to meet. The mage's face filled with fury as he summoned his Gift in each hand and threw fire blasts at the creature's feet. The tauros ran towards the forest as Numair gave chase throwing magical nets to try and capture the beast, but his Gift seemed to just slide right off. No matter how fast he ran or what spells he used, the mage couldn't slow the creature. Skidding to a halt, Numair forced himself to stop, breathe and think.
"Papa, help us!"
"Please, Papa. I'm scared. Don't let it take us away!"
It was agony to turn his back on the anguished cries of the two nameless girls as Numair stood with tears rolling down his cheeks. It wasn't real. It wasn't real! This was nothing but his deepest desire for the future. He couldn't believe how much of his power had been drained in that last exchange. Channelling the deep burning rage within him, the mage unleashed the last of his Gift to regain control. If that was the game they were playing, then so be it.
Inar Hadensra stood in the burning ruins of Port Legann. Bodies littered the ground as Stormwings descended to feast and desecrate the dead. The battle was won and the alliance of Tortallan's and Yamani's was defeated. Word had reached the Scanran mage that he had been promoted to head of the Council of Ten. Outside the castle, Ozorne sat perched on a railing in conversation with Yalmar and Deniau of the Copper Isles as the northerner approached. The Stormwing was covered in blood splatters and his matted braids hung damp around his head. He no longer appeared as the once mighty emperor of Carthak, yet he was still cleaner than most of his kind.
"It is finally done," Ozorne's eyes glittered with glee.
"We will be taking our fleets to Port Caynn," Valmar stated. "We have waited long enough for the opportunity to loot the capital."
"Our king will only be satisfied once we get what we're owed," Deniau added sending a sharp look at the Stormwing.
"What you are owed…" Ozorne examined a wingtip in the same way a person would assess their nails. "Of course – Inar, I believe you wanted to give our islander friends what they deserve."
Valmar and Deniau frowned at the Scanran mage and exchanged confused looks. Inar Hadensra's smile was bland at first as he raised his hands. The two islanders' bodies started to smoke as their screams filled the air. His grin became sadistic as the mage burned the two men from the inside out.
Ozorne regarded the piles of ash disdainfully. "Our queen will be pleased."
"What nonsense are you spouting now?" the northern mage snapped.
"The Chaos we have unleashed today will fuel The Queen's powers," the Stormwing threw his head back and cackled. "She will now have enough power to overthrow the Great Gods and rule all the realms!"
"I don't understand what you are babbling about!" the Scanran gestured wildly.
"Uusoae. What it has always been about," Ozorne gave the mage a queer look. "The day is upon us when she will melt the realms into Chaos, and all will perish."
"You're mad!" Inar said taking a step back to ready his ruby Gift.
"You didn't know…" Numair whispered in understanding. "You aren't the pawn."
The black robe removed his finger's from Hadensra's temples as the other mage blinked, coming back to his senses.
"It isn't you…" Numair stated.
The Scanran focused his blue eye on the black robe mage and raised a hand summoning a cloud of ethereal daggers. Numair had no Gift left to defend himself and did the only thing he could think of and grabbed the enemy mage's ruby eye. Hadensra howled in pain as he sent the daggers flying through the black robe's body. Numair screamed as the blades caused unimaginable internal damage to his organs and muscles. Twisting with all his strength, he yanked the ruby free of its socket and rolled away. The black robe gasped for air as his limbs trembled in the effort to keep him upright. He needed power, anything to throw at his enemy before the Scanran killed him. Looking up the mage saw the shield swirling with their combined ruby and black sparkling Gifts. Everything he had drawn from the northern mage had been absorbed by his shield. Placing his hand flat on the ground, Numair reached out and connected with the segments of black opal. The crystals were so well attuned to him the mage began to draw their power through the earth.
Hadensra cursed clutching his empty socket. "You'll pay for that!" he screamed.
The Scanran raised his other hand above his head and began to mutter silently as ruby needles materialised in the air around Numair. The black robe swallowed and continued to draw power through the ground, he needed all of it for what he intended.
"Die Numair Salmalín!" Inar snarled and clenched his fist as the needles impaled the black robe mage.
The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced as the white-hot points burned every part of him. The shield imploded as Numair drew the last of its power into himself. Aiming the ruby at Hadensra, the black robe used a shaking finger to draw the rune Sowulo on the gem before calling out the incantation with his last breath. The air screamed as the pressure intensified, crushing the mage into the ground. Inar Hadensra yelled defiantly as his very existence was unmade. With a loud crack, like thunder, he was gone, and everything went black.