The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope
Chapter Two: Complications
By stazsong magick

A/N: Somewhat hurried chapter. I hope it won't sound to quick. I also hope you don't hate me for what's happened to the poor horsies... I hate it too; I'm a horse-freak. But it's gotta be done. It's not even what the real plot will be *oh no!! I gave it away!*. All I can tell from here is that this, whenever it's done, will be really long.

Oh, and thanks to all my reviewers for taking your precious time to review! I don't mind negative comments either. Anything helps me.

Disclaimer: All is property of Tamora Pierce, except for plot, and the horses Dariou (white stallion) and Blanche (mare, only mentioned, will be seen next chapter).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Chapter Two: Signs

Daine was woken the next morning by a very persistant voice inside her head. She blinked blearily — the sun still had yet to rise — as the room around her came into focus. Then she noticed the little robin sitting on her knee (she had kicked the covers off during a fitful dream only hours before).

—Wake up, Miss Daine!— it cried shrilly.

"What is it?" she mumbled groggily.

—In the stables; another horse has taken sick, and the other is near death!—

That statement quickly shook the remaining blanket of sleep away. Daine quickly climbed out of bed and ran out into the hall, still wearing her nightclothes. "Who sent you?" she wondered to the bird.

—One of the stableboys. He was saying the birds around here are abnormally smart, and decided to use one of us as a messenger.— He said this with an extremely arrogant air.

"Thank you," she murmured, then ran outside, then into the stables for the second time that day. One stable hand met her by the doorway as she bent over, gasping for breath.

"Blanche began whinnying frantically 'bout an hour ago, then keeled over to the ground. No obvious reasons yet," the boy said urgently, "And Dariou, the horse you saw to earlier, looks dead." Noting the alarmed look on Daine's face, he added quickly, "We checked for his heartbeat; it's still there. He breathes. But I don't know how much longer—" He cut himself off as Daine breezed by him and down the aisle to Dariou's stall.

The stable hand was absolutely right. At first glance, one would think the poor silvery stallion on the ground dead, but at closer examination, Daine noticed a slight rising and falling of its chest. "Gods, don't let it be too late..." she whispered to herself, then, closing her eyes, let her magic flow into the horse.

Rest and temporary memory loss of the squirrel predicament had done no good. She examined every inch of the stallion, from its slow-beating hearts to its intestines for possible colic problems. But there were none. Dariou stirred slightly, then settled into the straw-scattered ground. A soft, whispery groan escaped its lips as Daine opened her eyes and let her magic flow back into her. At least the stallion was no longer unconscious — a small improvement.

"What's wrong with you?" Daine asked softly. Maybe an interview would help her find the cause.

—I... don't know.— The horse's voice was a weak, laboring sigh in her mind. —Yesterday. Yesterday I felt odd... and then I began to hurt...—

"Where at?"

—Everywhere. I can't figure it out.— Dariou tried to laugh but began coughing rackily. His whole whitish body shook once, hard. —Will you be able to help me?—

Something wet was on her cheek, sliding downward. Was rainwater dripping from the roof? Looking up, she saw the first rays of daylight peeking through small slats and cracks. It was then that she first realized she was crying.

—Will you be able to— The horse coughed again, —to help me?—

No, an evil little voice in her head said. Daine turned her head away in shame, feeling her face flush up with guilt, feeling the tears dripping down her face warm slightly with the heat.

Dariou the stallion shook all over once again, then dropped into a motionless coma, disturbed only now and then by a series of racking coughs.

*****

"You would think the infection would be in the lungs or some such place," Daine commented sadly to Numair later on that day, "One of the major symptoms is coughing." The pages and few squires in the hall where they sat milled around them, oblivious to Daine's pangs of sadness.

"I would try to help you," he said, "But I know nothing about healing except the very basics. I'm not a healer." Numair stared out one of the tall windows letting melancholy sunshine in. "The palace stables isn't the only place hit with this disease thing. A few fiefs nearby have reported that their village barns are emptying out quick. No one knows what the disease is."

"If only the whole kingdom's animals did not depend on me for their health," Daine murmured, slumped over her lunch with her elbows on the table. She didn't care what her table manners looked like. The scrutinizing glances of passer-byers didn't bother her at all, at least not now. Suddenly she bolted up straight. "I can't take it! It just makes me so mad, to be so useless and... and *stupid!*"

"You're not stupid," Numair said seriously. "You're smart, and tal—"

"Then why can't I heal anymore? Why?"

"Mental exhaustion?" he suggested timidly.

"No!" she burst out, "It's not that! It just... oh gods, why me, why now, why the horses?"

"The gods have reasons for everything."

"Yeah, and this, time, their reason is that they want to destroy the whole equine population. And me. Definately me. It's driving me mad!"

"No..."

"Yes."

Numair knew better than to argue further. Words were useless against the stubborness of her will.