Chapter 8: A House Divided


As soon as Master Samalin and his student had left his rooms, Lord Imrah made for his large wooden desk, searching frantically through the many drawers. His pudgy hand finally emerged holding a knobby, crimson-colored crystal, and his squat form sank back into a chair with a sigh of relief. Closing his eyes, the baron enveloped the crystal in his hands, whispering: The blood is the life, the blood is the life, the blood is the life-bond of your humble slave.

The crystal began to glow faintly, and a rippling image of Prince Deniau appeared in the air in front of Imrah.

Ah, my dear Lord Baron, drawled the prince. To what do I owe this inconvenience?

Imrah's poc-marked face flushed slightly but he stared steely at the image of his master. Samalin lives. he said. I was lead to believe, your Majesty, that the destruction of the barrier between the realms would kill him. I cannot carry out my assignment if that mage is still poking around!

Deniau's eyes narrowed, and he hissed severely, When we last spoke in the tavern, Imrah, I was lead to believe that you had the situation in Legann well in hand. You have been entrusted with knowledge many would kill to acquire, don't make me regret choosing you as my Tortallian contact. Samalin's survival disturbs you? Finish him off.

And his student, what shall I do with her?

Deniau smiled. Keep her alive. I have plans for Verialidaine Sarrasri.
Imrah nodded, and released his hold on the crystal. The image of the prince vanished. He arose and went quickly to the doorway of the room, gesturing to a servant walking down the hall.

He grabbed the wiry young man's arm and hissed instructions in his ear. The servant nodded once, and, eyes glowing green and yellow, set off to carry the message to the bloodthirsty raiders waiting impatiently in the forests of Port Legann.


********


As Daine still wore only the tattered breeches and thin nightshirt she'd had on when captured by the stormwings, she was all too grateful when Numair offered her the loan of one of his warmer shirts and a thick cloak. She shrugged into the soft cotton and sat once more on the edge of his bed, watching him as he finished gathering his belongings from his temporary quarters in the Legann keep.

The light from the window became tinged with red as the sun began its slow descent behind the mountains, and a crisp autumn chill crept into the room. She pulled the cloak more tightly around her body and watched as the dusky light gently silhouetted her friend's tall form. A silent sigh escaped her lips. There was only so much kisses could express. Daine wished that she had the same linguistic command Numair possessed. She wanted to be able to explain to him exactly what she felt when she was near him. She wanted so very badly to tell him how much she loved him without actually using those three little words.

Those words could change everything, she knew. There was no way Daine was willing to risk their present relationship by proclaiming feelings she wasn't sure he really returned in the same degree. So instead she sat and watched Numair fasten the clasp to his pack, wishing with every ounce of her being to be able to scream out that she loved him with everything she had, but contenting herself with clinging to his dark blue cloak.

Feeling all right, magelet?

Numair's concerned voice woke Daine from her thoughts. She blinked and tried to smile. Of course, she answered. I'm just anxious to get to Corus, is all. she stood and grabbed one of Numair's bags, heading for the door. The sooner we set out the sooner we can be of use.

The mage nodded in agreement, lifting the remainder of his belongings and following the young woman out into the corridor.


********


Queen Thayet of Tortall sat by her friend's bedside, feeling completely useless. She knew that she should be out in the field with Onua and Sarge- now that Daine was gone they were having a more difficult time than ever getting the Rider trainees comfortable on their ponies- but she just couldn't bring herself to leave Alanna.

Once Darkmoon had allowed Sarge to take the Lioness out of his sight and into the palace, the royal healing mages had been desperately trying to ascertain what had happened to her. The gash in her side had been made by a magicked blade- that much was obvious. But the type of magic was unidentifiable. Duke Baird, head healer, had spent hours puzzling over his books trying to quantify the bizarre greenish yellow glow that radiated from Alanna's skin. She lay comatose in a bed in the infirmary under the concerned and constant eyes of the royal healers and her many visitors.

Thayet reached out and brushed errant strands of her friend's fiery hair away from her damp forehead. Whatever had infected the Lioness had caused her to enter a strange sort of trancelike state. Her piercing violet eyes were open, staring straight up at the high ceiling. Without warning, her body would spasm violently, and she would cry out unconsciously in pain.

The door to the infirmary opened softly and Jonathan came in to stand behind his wife, curling his hands on her shoulders, looking down at Alanna's trembling form. They were both silent for a moment, reflecting on the years they'd all spent together. Time and time again the Lioness had saved their kingdom, always going above and beyond the expectations of duty or even friendship. She had sworn her life to the defense of Tortall when she took her oath as a knight of the realm, and Jon and Thayet were suddenly terrified that the day of the Champion's ultimate sacrifice had come.

Where's George? Thayet asked her husband, needing to break the silence of their mutual sorrow.

I've sent for him. He's riding out from Pirate's Swoop as we speak. You know George- he never likes to be far from her side. Even now, when she... Jon's voice nearly cracked as he trailed off, refusing to finish his sentence.

Thayet stood and grasped his hands. Alanna's never given up on us, Jon. Let's not give up on her.

The king nodded and turned to stare out the open window into the harsh sunlight, forcing his accelerated heartbeat to return to its normal pace.


********


To look at Raoul of Goldenlake now, one would barely recognize him. The intelligence and humor in his eyes had been replaced by burning hate and unabated cruelty. Green and yellow fire flared at his fingers where he gripped his sword hilt, and although he was a broad and muscled as ever, his posture was now reflective of the carriage of a vulture: sharply stooped and nearly disfigured.

Raoul and his forces had since swept through Dunlath, Aili, and Malven, steadily accumulating new Chaos victims for their ranks and killing all who resisted. His army had now grown from the twelve men he began with to nearly four hundred Chaos slaves. As they rode towards the Tortallian capital, the Knight Commander felt unrestrained power swirl and crash within him like an ocean in a storm. The need to fight, to maim, to utterly destroy bubbled up in his Uusoae-filled mind and heart as he turned to look at the woman who rode beside him.

Buri met his gaze with a very different emotion than when she'd last seen him in the Royal courtyard nearly a week ago. If Raoul looked different, then Buri was absolutely transformed. Her dark hair whipped loose in the cold wind, and her bloodshot eyes fairly glowed with absolute malice. Now filled with hate for her friends and rulers, Buriram Tourakam almost resembled a feral wildcat, clutching too tightly at her horse's reins and twitching in the saddle.

Suddenly a lone rider came galloping into sight. Raoul and Buri instantly recognized him as Saram Yoser, second in command to Evin Larse of the Queen's Riders. Saram pulled up closer to the Knight Commander's steed and called out.

Greetings from Queen Uusoae's Riders!

Buri turned and growled into the young man's yellow-green eyes. Speak your business quickly. We have work to do in Corus!

Commander Larse bids you delay your appointment at the palace until he can join you himself. Our company is riding up from the South as we speak.

How many? grunted Raoul.

The young man's face twisted into a smile. Near fifteen hundred, sir.

The knight's eyes lit. We will wait for Larse. In three days, we shall storm the capital, and the Tortallian reign will fall.


********


Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop had never ridden so hard in his life. The wind rushing over his body, the pounding of his horse's hoofs, the thundering of his own heartbeat: they all combined into a great rhythmical cacophony that surrounded his consciousness, blinding him from everything except from the desperate objective in his mind. Get to Alanna. George had never been one for emotions like panic, but now he could feel it steadily flooding his brain and accelerating his breath and heartbeat.

Suddenly a brown hawk shot down from the sky above. It circled the Baron and his mount until they halted. The hawk then smoothly transformed into a small red and gold hummingbird to hover in front of the man's surprised face.



The tiny bird dipped and spun in the air as a larger, black hawk flew down to alight on George's saddle horn.

Numair, I presume? he then let loose a strangled laugh in spite of himself. Graveyard Hag's knees! I will never be used to you mages! He shook himself and addressed the two more grimly. I'm headed to Corus. Alanna is there. I don't know what's happening, only... well, she's been hurt. Badly. I just- I just need to get there as soon as I can.

Daine and Numair nodded in agreement, both very concerned. They knew the baron of Pirate's Swoop was rarely as shaken as he was right now. They took flight once more, Daine transforming back into hawk form, and the small party headed down the road to the capital.


*******


Jon was still sitting by Alanna's bedside when the door to the infirmary burst open and in came his wife, Numair, Daine, and George. The king stood from his chair in surprise at seeing the mage and the young woman.

he cried. Little one, we thought we'd lost you! He walked over to her and gave her a brief, tight hug before resting a hand on Numair's shoulder. What happened?

For the time being, let it suffice to tell you that Ozorne is back in the game. growled Numair, memories of Daine's cold, motionless body in the cave clouding his thoughts.

At his tone, the young woman discreetly tucked her hand within her love's larger one before addressing the king. On the way back from Legann we were set upon by the raiders. We left our packs and horses and took hawk forms to escape. We were lucky enough to come across George here on our way home.

At the mention of his name, all eyes turned to the baron. He was silently kneeling at the side of his wife's bed, eyes scrunched closed and clasped hands shaking. He looked as if praying to every god in the Divine Realms. His eyes then snapped open and focused on his friends. What happened?

She was wounded by a magicked sword, began Thayet softly. But we don't know what kind of magic, or what it's doing to her.

Maybe I can help. Numair released Daine's hand with a comforting squeeze, and moved to stand over the trembling body on the bed. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his Gift's black fire to try and reach Alanna.

Instead of coming into contact with Alanna's purple Gift, Numair was suddenly entangled in a foreign magic. He felt a flood of emotions at once. Anger, sorrow, panic, hate, misery, bloodlust. Opening his eyes he found the room dark. He looked at his companions and saw Jon's blue glow and Daine's fiery copper one. Looking down at the Lioness he saw not the violet haze he expected, but instead a writhing, tangled mass of greenish yellow tendrils wrapping tighter and tighter around her body. Finally recognizing what was going on, Numair clapped his hands once and then truly opened his eyes.

He turned to George and took a breath. She's covered in Chaos magic. She's fighting it, heart and soul- that's what's causing her so much pain. But... she can't hold on much longer. She is weakening, and once the Chaos enters her core she will become its slave.

the baron rose to his feet and looked squarely at the mage. She's not lost a battle yet. She won't lose this one. Tell me how to help. I'm going to fight with her.

Numair's jaw dropped. he began, Do you know what you're asking? If you do this, you stand a very high chance of succumbing to the same demons that now afflict her. You'll die, George.

The shorter man shook his head. A small price to pay for the woman I love, Samalin. Tell me what to do.

George, I don't-

The baron's voice was low, but full of power. Looking at his steely face, Daine understood how he so easily commanded the Court of the Rogue so many years ago. Mage, do not deny me this. If the Black God's going to take me today, let it happen. But he will not take her. A life without my Lioness is no life at all. Numair, if I can save her, let me.

The mage sighed and put his fingertips to George's temples. Put your hand on her forehead then,he said quietly. Here we go.