Author's Note: Here be monsters. *cackles evilly* You know, I *meant* for this thing to be maybe 3500 words... grrr.

I'm trying to figure out: can Numair incorporate his clothes in a shape shift? The books have evidence both ways. Also, can he do anything besides the black hawk? If you know, *please* tell me -- either in a review or email me. And btw, be kind or at least civil in your reviews cos I have a hired flame assassin & I won't hesitate to set her on you!!

Chapter 6

Midway through the night her dreams turned sour. She couldn't shake the feeling of an evil of some sort present, watching her from afar, planning. She dreamed of an oddly mixed flock of birds -- hawks, eagles, ravens, swallows, thrushes -- circling in a too-regular pattern over a point on the ground, crying in their range of voices, blocking out the sun with their wings, a cloud of feathered bodies. Daine strained to see what they were circling over as though serfs to it; she felt menace billowing from the spot, like smoke from a bonfire. She called out to her wing- friends again and again, but no reply came. That unnerved her more than anything - she'd never met People who answered to anyone before her. She had a foreboding that whatever had called the birds away from her now meant a bitter battle ahead of her, and that there was more here at Ravenpeak than strangely behaving hurroks.

Frantic calls broke through the image. The birds' voices in the dream transcended to the real world -- with equal urgency -- as she sat bolt upright in bed, gasping in the darkness. Scrambling out of bed, she grabbed one of Numair's shirts and wrapped it around her, stumbling out to the balcony. Outside, she leaned out over the railing, gulping the fresh air and reaching out to her raptor friends. I'm here! What is it?

Their answer was vivid and immediate. Those killing horses were racing across the plain on their vast bat wings, making for Ravenpeak in the moonlight. Now Daine could feel the anxiety of the fief's People as well. They sensed trouble coming; it was in the air. Daine soothed them as best she could and warned them to stay under cover, but her blood pounded in her ears. She had a very bad feeling about this, more than she'd ever felt with hurroks before. She still couldn't sense the monsters outside of her spies' reports, and again she felt that strange underlying malevolence. She couldn't tell whether it registered -- just barely -- in her magic, or if it was just her own premonition. Either way, she somehow knew that magically, she was up against something she'd never seen before, something that was not going to be pleasant.

"Daine? What's wrong?" Numair had come to stand in the doorway, hair tousled, in a pair of breeches. Why is it, she wondered vaguely, that we're forever getting woken with emergencies in the middle of the night?

Thoughts distant, she turned halfway back to the view, her profile lined with silver by the moon. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but terse. "They're coming."

~~~~~

It didn't take long to send a servant to rouse Ravenpeak's lord, and then to assemble and mobilize the fief's forces. Although the hurroks had made no appearance since their attack the week before, Gregory had wisely kept his men ready, in case they should need a speedy defense. Now, armed men -- particularly archers -- were soon being posted along the walls and sent throughout the fief they were to defend.

Daine was flexing her bow, working limberness into it, when a servant knocked at the door. "Excuse me, sir, miss, my lord says to tell you he's up on the East Tower, and to report there as soon as possible." Daine thanked the runner, who hurried off again.

"Numair?" she called. "Let's go."

He returned from the balcony. "I was just scrying again, now that they're closer," he explained quickly. "Still no mages that I can see."

Daine pursed her lips. She still had the feeling -- a persistent one -- that whatever was really behind these hurroks was something much more than any mage Numair might scry for. Her stomach turned over.

"Daine? Are you all right?" He'd seen her eyes darken.

"I'm fine." She tried to shake off her fears. "His lordship's on the East Tower --"

"Daine." His voice was gentler. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you sure you can do this? You weren't feeling well yesterday.... I don't want you out there unless you're ready to deal with whatever we'll be up against."

She smiled grimly and laid a hand against his cheek. "You'll have to trust me on that, love. But I *need* to be there. There's none that can deal with hurroks as I can. It's what I came down here for."

He said nothing, eyes intent on hers. She knew he was torn.

She pulled away. "Let's go," she repeated, grabbing her archer's gear.

They went.

~~~~~

Lord Gregory looked gratified to see the mages as they crossed the deck to meet him. Archers lined the ramparts along with several other of Ravepeak's mages; similar forces were posted along the fief's walls. Torches had been lit throughout the fief, piercing the darkness. There were still several hours till dawn would touch the horizon.

"We have archers and mages posted at elevated positions throughout the fief," Gregory told them, "to confront the hurroks in the air. In the village I sent out several squads on foot and horseback, should they attack on the ground."

Daine nodded in approval, once more noting how the man earned his reputation: he sent out forces to keep the people safe. "Numair and I would best be off the ground, too," she told him. "May as well be here...?" She glanced back at Numair, who nodded assent.

"Very well." Gregory's sharp eyes focused on hers. "What can you tell of the hurroks?"

Daine bit her lip. "I still can't sense them myself," she admitted. "But --" she reached out to the raptors -- "my scouts say they're half a mile southeast." Involuntarily her eyes flicked away from to stare in that direction; a shiver raced up her spine. "We'd all best be ready."

Gregory nodded and left to confer with his captains, who began barking orders. Grimly Daine strapped on her archer's wristguards, strung her bow, and tied her hair back. A touch on her shoulder made her look up; Numair's dark eyes were tight, silently speaking his concern. It was about the hurroks, she knew, and how she was still blind to them. For a moment, only to him, she allowed the fear and dread plaguing her to come through -- it was in the set of her jaw, tension around her eyes. Daine looked away. It was more than unnerving -- it was terrifying -- for her powers to be so impaired in the face of danger, when Ravenpeak was under attack - and *she* was supposed to be defending it. And he knew how she felt. For his understanding, at least, she was grateful. But right now, there was nothing either of them could do about it, and they had a battle to fight. She couldn't let the fear cripple her, not now. She looked up briefly at Numair, then shifted away slightly. She gripped her bow, feeling the comfort of its weight and grain. Here, at least, she had a means to fight.

Her raptor spies called another warning; the hurroks were barely a quarter mile away. The People of Ravenpeak were bordering on frantic; the wind was blowing from the monsters' direction, sweeping in their blood- tainted scent. Daine soothed them best she could, wishing fervently she could assure their safety. But she knew that Ravenpeak's men would doubtless value the humans' lives first; she could only pray that the People would escape the hurroks.

Shouts crossed the fief. The hurroks -- a flock of at least thirty -- came into sight, flying across the plains in a dark cloud and making straight for the fief. Changing her eyes into an owl's, Daine could see their moon-illuminated flanks laced with sweat, the powerful sweep of their giant bat wings, the hunger that screamed from those burning eyes. The People of the plains tensed at their presence, but the hurroks passed the wilderness by, homing in on Ravenpeak. Sweat broke out between Daine's shoulder blades; it was one thing to *hear* that the monsters were in her range and not sense them, and another for them to be in plain sight when her magical vision was blank of their metallic aura.

She saw a captain on the southeast segment of the fief's wall -- Sarian -- signal to his archers, who raised loaded bows. The hurroks drew closer, the powerful flapping of their wings creating a pulsing wash of sound that grew louder with their approach.

As they were just about to pass over the walls, one of the hurroks loosed a blood-curdling shriek. As if at a signal, the flock split into four equal groups: one raced along the walls to left, one to the right, one passed over the walls as anticipated, and one held back from the fief. Daine could feel the tension of everyone on the deck at the development. The archers along the walls started, finding the creatures suddenly on them. Sarian's men loosed at his command, but it was a split second late -- doubtless after the shock of the hurroks' move -- and shots faltered. The hurroks who had passed over them swept into the fief; the group behind them swooped down, huge raptor's claws extended. Several men, struck, went down; their attackers swooped into the night sky again. One hurrok took a struggling man with him; it rose into the air, then dropped the archer into the street from two hundred yards up.

The group that had passed over Sarian's men fanned out over the village, falling on the soldiers throughout. But here were no archers; the hurroks could simply strike, then rise into the air again, out of danger. The archers along the walls were busy with their own attackers. Some of the monsters stayed close, to harass the men at close range; others rose high in the air, out of bow range, to move into the fief.

Arrows whistled through the air. No further orders were issued; Ravenpeak's men simply fired as much and as accurately as possible. The archers and mages on the East Tower focused on the hurroks in the village, aiding the fighters on the ground as well as picking the targets within reasonable range. They themselves, however, were not yet under attack.

At first it was like any battle Daine fought: she simply fired shot after shot, trying to hit swift-moving targets who remained perilously close to the men they were fighting. But amid the heat of battle, it made her blood run cold that these monsters were right at hand, viciously attacking the fief's defenses, and she knew no more of them than any other two-legger - mage or no - in Ravenpeak. She scanned them again and again, but they could have been stones for all they stirred in her magic. At last she decided to try and reach into them amid the fighting.

She stretched out a strand of magic to a nearby hurrok circling over the village, and carefully wrapped it around him. With luck, he wouldn't even suspect what she was doing.

Bronze fire exploded inside her head, swamping her. A whirlwind of furious voices screamed in her mind. She gasped and fell back, doubled over, clutching her head.

"*Daine*?" Numair, on her left, dropped the magic he had been gathering and hurried to steady her. "What in Mithros's name -"

She couldn't answer, barely felt his arm around her. She struggled to cut through the tornado in her head, reaching into it. What was *wrong* with these hurroks? They were saturated with another magic, most certainly not their own - an overwhelmingly powerful force. She was definitely feeling *their* magic as well - those were their hunters' voices - but it was amplified by, as well as mingled with, an alien power that she couldn't breach with her own.

Suddenly she felt the magical tempest tense, as though it sensed something offensive, and condense on itself --

And it was gone, vanished from her mind. She was back on the East Tower deck, kneeling on the flagstones, battle still raging around them. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she realized another vacuum; the hurroks' magic was gone from her senses, though she could see they were as flesh-hungry as ever.

"Daine?" Numair's anxious face hovered a few inches away. "Are you all right? What just *happened?"

She rested in his hold, bringing up a hand to try and soothe the pounding in her head. She tried to speak, but her throat was paper-dry. Numair handed her a flask of water, and she sipped gratefully.

"The hurroks," she gasped. Her breathing was easier now, and she could sit up on her own. "I -- sensed them. Just for a moment. There's something else there, another magic *in* their magic. Something big. And I *think* it sensed me, and pulled away, so I couldn't feel it anymore."

His eyes narrowed. "You're saying the hurroks' magic is enhanced -- so they *are* more intelligent --?"

"No." She stood, slowly, with his help. "The other magic I sensed -- it isn't theirs. It's different. But I never saw anything of the like before." A tremor passed through her; so this was what she'd suspected, and again it was hovering outside her awareness. But still there, she knew. She drew a deep breath, steadying herself, and shifted away from Numair, gripping her bow again. "I'll -- try and look into it, later," she told him.

He nodded and called for a healer. A young man, apparently an apprentice, came over and, taking Daine's hands, washed her veins with turquoise magic. The spell was invigorating; she thanked him and returned to the fighting. So did Numair, though she noticed he kept a much closer eye on her after that.

At length a lone hurrok rose from the fighting in the fief below and sped towards the East Tower, twisting in complex flight patterns as it drew near to make it a difficult target. Several archers focused on it, but their arrows skimmed by. Daine set the beast in her bow sight, adjusting her aim to match its maneuvers. She was on the brink of loosing when pain ripped into her shoulders as a force slammed into her from behind, knocking her to her knees. The second hurrok who had attacked her pulled away, rising towards the starry sky, then turned and swooped down again. For a fraction of a second, the veil fell again, and the hurrok's bronze magic flared in her mind. Here, she felt that familiar malevolence, and a focus on Daine herself -- as if the hurrok *knew* of her specifically. Stunned, Daine struggled to get her bow up, but the pain in her shoulders dragged her down.

A sheet or sparkling black swept up from the deck and wrapped around the hurrok, who burst into flame. Screaming its agony, it plummeted into the streets below.

This time Numair would not be convinced of her welfare. He clearly wanted to stay by her side, but she pointed out firmly that his place at the moment was up on the deck, fighting. Instead, a runner led her to the infirmary, where she was surprised to find Selene among the healers. "I thought I should make myself useful," she explained. It was Selene herself who worked on Daine's injuries; her magic was a warm amber color, like late- afternoon sunlight. She cleaned the cuts, then healed as far as could be done and bandaged them carefully with a earthy-smelling salve.

"You'll be perfectly fine," the young woman told Daine. She was in a much more practical forest-green gown than her velvet attire the night before. "You're healing very nicely, and that salve they showed me here is the best I've seen. Just stay out of the fighting."

Daine smiled tiredly. "Thank you. You're a fair wondrous healer, Selene."

Selene smiled shyly at the praise; then her look changed to one of concern. "Take care of yourself, Daine."

She took a cushioned seat to rest in as Selene went back to work, mulling over what she'd witnessed. Something was very wrong with the hurroks; that was beyond a doubt. Something had been added to their magic, boosting it -- apparently to make them more intelligent. She'd *never* heard of such a transaction. She *thought*, at least, that she'd felt a power behind their own magic, but it felt completely alien -- she couldn't imagine what kind of source was behind it. The fact that she felt it at all indicated a force of wild magic -- but who, or what, was helping the hurroks? Perhaps -- she shuddered to think -- it was some god or elemental, then. Surely one of *them* could guide the hurroks like that. She didn't want to think of a god interfering on the enemy's behalf. What was worse, she'd *felt* that hurrok's ill intent towards her specifically -- either the two of them had some bad history she didn't remember, or worse, whatever was behind all this didn't wish her well. Whatever the case, her fears were being confirmed -- and she was as bewildered as before.

The infirmary door flew open, admitting a very tall, dark, somewhat battle-mussed, anxious-looking mage, who strode over to Daine's side.

"How're you feeling, magelet?" He glanced around the room; the healers were still busy tending the wounded. "What did they say?"

"I'll be fine. I *am* fine. She just said I should stay out of the fighting right now." Daine nodded towards the noblewoman, who was setting a splint. "Selene."

He studied the young mage for a moment before flopping his length down next to Daine with a sigh. He was tired, she saw; the shadows under his eyes as prominent as ever. "So it's over?" she asked, taking his hand comfortingly.

He nodded, head tipped back against the wall. "It wasn't that bad. Ravenpeak lost eight, mostly soldiers fighting in the village. Pity we don't have more archers." His eyes were grim. "It's times like these when I *really* miss the Riders. Now -- about those hurroks --" he looked at her with concern.

She explained her speculations. "I don't *know* anything for sure." She bit her lip. "I just have the feeling that -- there's *more* to it all. Something bigger."

He sat back, tugging his nose thoughtfully. "About that power you sensed -- you said it didn't feel like any kind of magic you're familiar with?"

"No. Not like People, or immortals, or gods -- that I've seen, that is."

He frowned. "And we scried for mages. It *seems* there are none, but I wouldn't discount the possibility. There are countless illusory spells a mage could use to cloak his or her magic."

She clenched her jaw. "I *hope* no god is coming into this. But I'd think my parents or the badger would tell me if one was."

"It could be they don't know. Even Mithros and the Goddess might not. Often minor gods act without the consent -- or knowledge -- of their superiors." Daine made the Sign against evil. "But here, I doubt that's the case. We have no clear evidence either way, but it would be an extreme situation if a god *was* involved."

Daine grimaced briefly as nausea rolled in her stomach. Must be the healing, she decided. Aloud she continued the line of thought. "We need to observe the hurroks up close somehow. Listen, I think I should go tonight. I can fly out. After what I sensed, just for a moment, I need to see if I can get into their heads again, and see what's going on."

His head had snapped up; he was staring at her wide-eyed. "Out of the question."

She scowled. "What's this?"

A healer had noticed Numair's raised voice. "Sir," he called, "there are patients in here --"

Numair glared at the man, then seized Daine's hand and pulled her out in the hallway. "You are *not* going off on your own to chase after those creatures. You're not in sound health, you've just been injured, and you can't fight twenty hurroks on your own." His voice was tight.

She raised a stubborn eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Numair, I'm well enough to fly out to the plains. *I* should know. Remember that time in Port Caynn, when you were fretting over me even worse, and the killer unicorns attacked? I held my own just fine then. I can do it now."

His fists were clenched. "Even with *normal* hurroks, you'd be a fool to go off against *twenty* of them. We don't even know what it is behind all this. And like I said, you've taken an injury."

"Numair...." she took his hand. "It's like I was saying, the other day. I take my own risks. This is one I'm going to take. It's the best way, maybe the only one, to do my job here. I *have* to find out what it is with these beasts."

He was silent for a moment. Then, "At least wait until you're stronger."

"I can't wait. Gods know what they're planning. Time is what I can't give them. As for the wound --" she opened the infirmary door and called, "Selene?"

The young woman came over, wiping her hands on her apron. "Yes?"

Daine explained the situation. "Do you think I'm fit to go?"

Selene considered. "Medically, I wouldn't hold her. And to be honest, I think a lot of people are anxious to find out what's going on with these monsters." She smiled sympathetically at Numair's dark look. "I'm sorry. But she should be fine. Now if you'll excuse me?" She indicated the room behind her and hurried back to her work.

"There," said Daine, satisfied. She raised her eyebrows, challenging any argument.

He drew a breath. "I'll shape-shift and go with you."

She shook her head. "They'll know you're not a real hawk. With luck, I can pass as one. Besides, I don't think that hawk shape of yours is the quickest in the air, and you're not as good at maneuvering. No offense."

"Daine... I don't like it."

"I know you don't, and I'm sorry. But we don't always like everything we get."

He glared sulkily at her. "You're too gods-curst reasonable."

She laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "With you, *someone's* got to be the voice of reason. Now, let's go tell his lordship."

Gregory was still up on the East Tower, conferring with his captains. He turned at Daine and Numair's arrival, and listened intently to her plan.

"I must thank you again, Wildmage, for your selfless services here," he said gravely. "Gods go with you. Shall I send a relief force after a time?"

She considered, biting her lip. "I don't think so, my lord. I should be back by dawn. And thank you."

"Thank *you*, Mistress Sarrasri. If you will excuse me?" He returned to his conference.

Daine drew to the ramparts. Below, the fief was only slightly battle- roughed, and the dead had been cleared away. The movement of the constellations overhead indicated a couple of hours til sunrise. Daine took a deep breath, readying herself. A falcon shape would be best; she'd have the hunter's weapons, and it was the fastest thing in the air that she knew of.

"I'll just go from here," she told Numair. "Get my things, will you? And meet me on the balcony? Of our room?"

He nodded gravely and drew her close. "Be careful, Daine," he whispered. "If you come back with so much as a bruise, rest assured that you will answer for it."

She laughed softly. "Don't fret," she told him. "Those monsters had best be afraid of *me*."

"That's my magelet." He smiled ruefully, then turned up her face to kiss her gently. She savored the kiss, not caring who saw, drawing on his love for strength. At last she pulled away. "I have to go."

He nodded tightly and stroked her cheek. "Goddess go with you, magelet." After a final, quick kiss, he released her.

Facing the view grimly, she jumped, taking shape in the air; her clothes dropped to the floor. Clad in pale grey feathers, with a raptor's ripping beak and claws, she took to the air and sped away into the night, leaving Numair alone on the deck.