Author's note: WHEW I'm done. *sprawled lifelessly in chair* God that was a
hard one to write. But I made it!! I meant to get it done tonight, and I
did. Ok, so I was too lazy beta the thing, but oh well! I'm just so glad I
got this chunk out of the way. I just kept telling myself I had to work
towards the end -- and it is a lovely cliffhanger, isn't it? *grin* Well,
it's not that bad -- most things have been explained already, right?
And speaking of betaing, I'd like to do a little plug for my dear beta and friend Melody. Brilliant writer, that girl -- she writes HP fic, so check it out! I believe her new pen name is Dragon's Daughter... (will have to check that)
PLEASE give me some feedback. The whole reason I post this stuff online is so I can get more! Especially for this chapter, because it's an important one -- and I'm thinking of seriously reworking it, as it's less polished than usual; I just sort of squeezed it all out (NOT without struggle) and plopped it down, and that's what you're reading. So: what do you make of it?
Chapter 10
There was a faint shimmering quality to the plains around her. It was in the air, something that sent a tremor racing up her spine, little sparks coursing through her veins. Magic, she knew. But nothing she could put a name to.
For long moments she stood in the waist-high grass, bow loaded and arched heavily in her grip, scanning the seemingly infinite plains, searching for an answer, straining every sense. Her magic picked up nothing definite. Hawk eyes took in only long, waving grasses stretching in every direction before her, and the movements of small animals hiding in them. Bat ears flicked about, gathering spidery clusters of sound. Breeze-stirred grasses brushing against each other, rodents scuttling around out of sight, the long sigh of the wind disturbed by the wing-beats of birds overhead --
Something scraping against rock, behind and above her.
She whirled, bow raised, to find a snarling hurrok falling on her. She loosed automatically, blood pounding in her ears, and the arrow slammed into the monster's throat. She tried to jump out of the way as it collapsed, thrashing, but a claw raked her left arm. Another hurrok was upon her, fangs bared and claws flexed; it slammed against a wall of sparkling black fire and fell away, stunned.
Numair was beside her, his magic surrounding them in a fiery globe as he pulled her back towards the cave. The remaining hurroks had dropped down from the ledge where they had been waiting, and now swooped around outside the cave, filling the heavy, hot air with screams of rage. Panic flared as Daine realized the horses were still outside with them. Cloud, Spots, *move out*! she ordered, putting her will behind it. It's us they want! Dimly she felt the horses obey.
"Where did they *come* from?" Numair demanded, his shield now stretched over the cave entrance in a glittering sheet. "They just swooped down --"
"They could only have come from one place," she pointed out tightly. "One *thing*. They were on top --" she jerked her head towards the arched stone ceiling -- "above us, and I couldn't feel them until they'd gotten us boxed in here." She watched the immortals circling outside, those flaming eyes of theirs fixed on the mages. She gripped her bow tightly. This was going to be a hard fight.
"A shield strong enough to keep them away isn't permeable," he told her after a moment. "We can either be safe behind it, or drop it completely and fight them."
"They're not going anywhere until either we're dead or they are. You'll have to drop it."
He gave her a long look, then turned back to the mouth of the cave. "Very well. Can you do anything magically?"
She clenched her jaw. "No. I'll shoot."
The mouth of the cave was wide enough for them both to stand in it, but it was tight. So close together in a fight, they would be a danger to each other as well as the foe. For one of them alone it would have been best to stay just inside the cave and be covered from all directions but one; as it was, they would have to stand outside to gain more scope. Now they stepped out of the cave, the fiery shield pushing out in a bubble around them. The hurroks eyed them hungrily.
"On the count of three," Numair said quietly. They moved apart to give each other space, she on the right, he on the left. Daine loaded her bow again. "One -- two -- three."
The shield vanished. For a moment, the rush of the hot air on her face and the sight of hurroks circling in every direction but behind her made Daine's head spin; but the hurroks wasted no time and swooped down, huge raptor's claws extended. Two of them dropped towards Daine, neck and neck. Adrenaline flashed through her; she would have to shoot *before* they got too close or she wouldn't take them both. Her first shot missed the creature's throat and went through the wing, which was nearly as good, disabling it. It fell from the air, screeching in pain. Her next arrow slashed the second hurrok's neck -- not lethal, but it pulled away hastily. On her left, at the edge of her vision, she saw a hurrok struggling against a shimmering black cord that twined around its neck like a living snake.
There were roughly twenty hurroks remaining. They kept close and attacked in clusters, making hard targets. Daine fired again and again, the back of her shirt drenched with sweat in the relentless heat of the sun and the intensity of battle. Soon the wound on her left arm began to pull; she ignored it, shooting desperately to keep her attackers at bay. Once she missed an incoming hurrok completely, having just shot its companion, and it swooped down, screaming its victory. She would have been dead if Numair hadn't flamed it just then, so strongly she felt the heat on her face.
Again, it made her queasy to be fighting immortals she couldn't feel. Their fiery eyes, cruel talons and chilling scream had never been divorced from the harshness of their bronze magic. Now, she felt completely cut off, on the other side of a thick curtain from them -- and she had not the slightest idea what entity had touched their magic, commanding them. Her *anonymous* foe. Tears of fury and frustration welled in her eyes at the thought of her helplessness -- her magic dented, debilitated. That *thing* was probably laughing at her right now: /The poor girl laid on her back -- bet she didn't count on something happening to her precious *powers* -- and now she just doesn't know what to do, gods help us --/
She snarled in fury at the thought and snapped an arrow into an attacking hurrok's eye, savoring its scream of pain and rage. Her next arrow plunged into a hurrok's chest; it fell struggling to the ground. Half a heartbeat later, she sent a third arrow into the next hurrok's eye again, barely five yards away. The monster tumbled to the ground, spending its death throes at the Wildmage's feet. She ignored it, raising her bow to meet another pair of hurroks who were clearly furious from the wounds she'd dealt them earlier in the battle. Adrenaline flushed her system; she barely felt the arrows under her fingers; they seemed to fly to her targets of their own accord -- the hurroks stumbled in the air, clawing desperately at the bolts buried in their necks. Higher overhead, a sparkling black cloud found a hurrok and spread over its body like a second hide; the hurrok screamed and thrashed as the magic ate away at it like acid, leaving only a skeleton by the time it hit the ground.
The tide of battle had turned. More than half of the hurroks lay on the ground, their remains sprawled in grotesque poses reminiscent of their final agony. Now the others gradually pulled back, rising higher into the air, glaring poisonously at the mages below. After a few moment's hesitation, they turned and flapped away, leaving behind the carnage of their herd-mates scattered among the tall, dry grass.
Daine lowered her bow, the hatred that had fueled her in the battle still pounding in her veins. The sun pressed on her cruelly; she pushed her sweaty hair back and strode over to the body of the hurrok she'd killed. A swarm of flies was already crawling around the dappled fur; its yellow eyes were dull and staring. Her jaw clenched; in a rage, she gave the dead hurrok a furious kick.
"Gods-cursed, filthy monster," she hissed through clenched teeth. "*Rot*."
"Daine." Numair had come over to her from his position on her left. His shirt was sweat-soaked, his hair tousled. He looked exhausted, as though they'd been fighting all day instead of half an hour. He eyed her wearily. "That's not helping anyone."
She glared up at him, breathing hard. In that moment, she hated him for being right. For being reasonable. She was sick of reason by now. She turned away, staring out over the graveyard of dead hurroks before them in the haze of heat.
Cloud, Spots, come back, she called tersely. They're gone now.
A gentle touch on her left arm made her wince. Her wound was still open, the blood staining her sleeve. "You're hurt," Numair said softly.
Her anger flared up anew; she jerked away from him. Would he *never* stop fussing over her? "I'm *fine*," she snarled. "Can you just leave me alone?"
Once again he looked beaten, unable to respond. His silence only needled her further; she turned on her heel and stalked back to the cave. Inside, the shade fell over her like a light, soft veil. She sat against the cool stone wall and leaned gratefully against it for a moment, her heartbeat slowing, before reaching into her pack. Sourly she jerked at a length of bandage, smearing ointment on it and wrapping it tightly around her left forearm.
Leaving both sleeves rolled up to the elbow against the heat, she leaned back against the cave wall and relaxed in the cool, soothing breath of the cavern. The horses had returned, and remained outside despite the smell of death and the carcasses of the hurroks. Exhaustion finally pushed through Daine's anger, accompanied by bitterness. Here she was again, having fought off another attack, helpless and none the wiser as to what it was she fought. And Numair was right: it wouldn't help to go about lashing out at everything in her way. She half-laughed at herself. It looked like there was nothing she *could* do to help herself, or anyone.
Footsteps told her without looking that Numair had returned. He took a seat -- across the cave from her -- and pulled a flask of water from his pack. He didn't look angry, hurt or even bitter, just tired. She couldn't blame him. Too much had happened, the rush of emotions, the heat of battle, and now she was too worn out even to talk about it. They sat in heavy silence for a while.
Even so, an idea teased at the back of her mind. Something had been bothering her for days, something she couldn't name. It wasn't even about her enemy, or about the hurroks she'd had to fight. Most of them were dead by now anyway, a fair number of them lying about the plains outside the cave. She could hear the calls of vultures circling above them this very moment.
She gasped and sat bolt upright, head spinning. But it was impossible -- it couldn't be --
"What's wrong?" Numair asked anxiously.
She took a moment to reply, her gaze wandering about the cave floor in thought. The vultures outside... the birds here... all the People.... She scanned her magical senses. Yes, even now, the People were dim in her vision, somewhat closed off to her. She had not needed to speak to them much in the past few days, but she now felt quite clearly that they had little wish to talk to *her*. The alienation made her skin crawl. How could she not have noticed it?
"I think I know what's going on," she said slowly as her idea came together. Her eyes, now focused and grim, returned to Numair. "The People around here have been... less than helpful, you could say. I first noticed it when I went out after the hurroks' attack -- the raptor scouts weren't very quick about telling me where the hurroks were, or very specific. I just didn't think too much about it at the time, because I had other things to worry about. But you know what else? They haven't come to help me in a single fight here, and they *always* do, even without my asking." An image of the hurrok dropping down on her on the East tower flashed across her mind, and she shuddered. "And recently, they haven't been, well, very *nice*. It's like we're just not very close." Her lips tightened. "So whatever's behind the hurroks -- it's probably the same thing -- it's affecting the People here too." She looked up at him. "Does this sound familiar?"
He eyed her critically.
It was surprisingly hard to make herself say it straight out. Daine found her head was pounding yet again, and raised a hand to her temples. "I think," she said quietly, "that the thing we're fighting isn't a god or elemental or immortal. It's a wildmage, just like me." She drew a breath. "That's how it could talk to the hurroks and order them around, telling them how to attack, and to attack me in particular. That's why I felt its magic with the hurroks', because it was *in* theirs. And it -- he -- or she -- told the People not to give me too much help."
Silence fell once again as this soaked in. Another wildmage comparable to her was news indeed. First, because they had never seen another with half as much magic as Daine, given her parentage. Second, because if such a wildmage was working against her, she had her work cut out for her. It was alarming: the singular constant she'd *always* known was the People's loyalty and friendship. Now it seemed she had a competitor coming between her and her friends, and their support was by no means ensured. Suddenly she felt eerily alone and helpless, like a warrior disarmed. A voice in her head sniggered. /Too bad, *Wildmage*. Maybe you shouldn't have always taken your magic for granted./
"It's possible," Numair said finally. He was still sprawled wearily against the cave wall, but his brow was furrowed in thought. "But that doesn't explain why his or her magic would feel unfamiliar to you, or why you are able to sense it only at close range."
"I don't know why it feels strange," she replied, fiddling with a curl. The idea disturbed her further. "But then, it's wild magic, isn't it? There are a lot of things we don't know about it."
"True." He sighed, looking at her grimly. "*This* is going to be... a fight." His dark eyes were troubled.
She nodded, grimacing slightly at the thought of confronting any enemy in her current state. "I just wish I could *know* something about him, instead of guessing," she said bitterly. "But I doubt the People will tell me much." Her fists clenched. She didn't reach out to them, but could still feel vaguely that their backs were turned, as she had never felt before in her life.
It was as if the thought had conjured him: a pale grey raptor swooped into the cave, coming to rest on the ground between them. Daine found she had rarely been so glad to see one of the People in her life. "Windracer!" She moved away from the wall, settling closer to the falcon. So *one* of her friends here, at least, was willing to talk to her. She looked up at Numair. "Remember him? The fellow I helped on the road." The mage nodded; she turned back to Windracer. "I am very glad to see *you*."
Likewise, the bird said shortly. And I can't blame you, given how the People have been treating you lately.
"What?" she asked. Windracer seemed to know a good deal about the situation. "Yes, why? I mean, I think I have an idea --"
Just let me explain. We don't have much time. The falcon was rocking from foot to foot, as though trying to say something difficult. There is, he continued at length, a two-legger here much like you. He is both human and People, but greater than us.
Even in the heat, Daine felt icy. She translated for Numair. "Yes, that's what I thought," she told Windracer. "It was hard to believe, though, because we're so rare."
Listen, he wants you dead. He knows you're equally powerful, and a threat to him. He first called the hurroks here because he knew you would come to fight them. When you came, he covered up their magic so you couldn't sense them. He set them on you several times, but I think now he's just planning to take you on himself.
There was something different to the quality of Windracer's mind- speech. He sounded more intelligent; his thoughts came through with more depth and complexity than when she had first spoken to him. Then, he had sounded like a normal falcon; now, he spoke like one of her close friends, their intelligence enhanced by her magic. Daine repeated his words aloud again. "And he told the People not to tell me he was here? And not to help me?"
After a while, yes. Not so much in the beginning, he was afraid you'd suspect. He wasn't happy about it then, even so. A definite note of disgust entered the bird's voice.
"How not?"
Windracer took a moment to repond. He wasn't very reasonable, he said finally. If he made us not talk to you at all, you'd probably know what was going on; but he hated it when we helped you. You see, he's... not like you. He doesn't try to help us -- like you helped me on the road -- unless it will help *him* somehow. He makes us do things, instead of asking us like you asked the raptors' help a few days ago. He makes us do... bad things, sometimes. Often we get hurt doing them, but he doesn't care. The falcon's claws flexed, scraping on the stone floor.
And he says if we don't, we'll be punished. He does it sometimes anyway, even if we do everything he says, just to keep us down. But I don't care. *I* am not going to be a party to what he does with his power. Windracer looked up at her. You saved my life, and the least I can do is try to help you. He paused, then added, I'm very sorry you were hurt.
Daine closed her eyes for a moment, taking this all in. The frustration and anger with herself she had felt earlier were channeled and crystallized into a fury at how this man -- the wildmage -- treated the People. Using his magic to manipulate them, not caring if they were hurt, not bothering to heal them, though he obviously could.... Her blood boiled. She opened her eyes and faced the falcon in front of her.
"Thank you." The phrase sounded so humble and inadequate given what she wanted to express. "You are one of the bravest, noblest People I have met," she told Windracer, and knelt in front of him. "Wing-brother, I swear that if I am able to prevent it, this man will not harm you -- wildmage or no."
Windracer watched her, trust in his sharp golden eyes. It will be a hard battle. He's very powerful. He is the son of a god.
"And I am the daughter of one," Daine replied. There was no vainglory in the statement; her smoky blue eyes were hard. "And I plan to put an end to the man's actions, or die in the attempt."
"Daine." That was Numair, leaning toward her anxiously. She had almost forgotten he sat next to her, unable to follow the conversation. "What does he say?"
She explained what Windracer had said, a bit impatiently. She found it difficult to keep her voice even, and at length noticed a sharp pain in her palms from her nails digging into them.
She felt something akin to the hunger of a wolf pursuing its prey rise in her. This man -- though she was hesitant to call him that -- was a wildmage as strong as she, and was *using* the People like slaves, for his own foul endeavors. Well, before he tried to hurt them again he would have to kill her first.
Numair watched her wordlessly as she spoke, his face tense. "Well," he said simply when she'd finished. "This is...." He seemed to struggle for words. "This is quite an earful."
"I know it is." She rose briskly, gripping her pack and bow. "Let's go do something about it, shall we?"
Numair looked at her gravely for a long moment, then followed suit.
"Windracer -- when I was out here three days ago, I felt him, in a cave --"
Yes. He often stays in a cave in these mountains, northeast of here. I believe he's there now.
Daine nodded. "That's what I thought. That's where we were going, anyway." She patted her shoulder; the falcon fluttered up to perch there. "Let's go." She was anxious -- more than anxious -- to get going, to find that cave, this man. To sink her teeth into this throat..
As they stepped out of the cave she froze as an unpleasant and familiar bronze presence stained her magical senses. A tremor crawled up her spine as she realized what this could mean.
"I can feel the hurroks," she informed her companions. She looked sharply at Windracer.
He will know by now, the falcon replied, looking out over the plains. He knows what I've told you, and that you are on your way. He has no need to mask the hurroks.
She translated for Numair and added, "Will he send another attack?"
I doubt it. I think he's waiting for you in the cave.
"Well then," she said coldly. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting, now would we?" She fastened her packs to Cloud's saddle and mounted up, taking a moment to pull her tousled curls back to order under a leather tie.
No one spoke as they set off along the line of mountains under the cruel heat. She couldn't help but wonder if Numair was longing to give his usual words about her risking herself; either way, she was glad he said nothing. Part of her ached at seeing him so quiet, knowing how helpless he felt. She knew fully that something had come between them since she'd balked at his protectiveness, and it made her want to cry out that she loved him with all her heart, no matter what. but she couldn't, not now. Besides, it was not the time to think about risk. No one in the mortal or divine realms could keep her from going to that cave now.
She remembered Selene's words. /Power can too easily be used for evil..../ She wondered if perhaps her enemy had been a rather decent man, before his magical career. Well, it was no one's choice for him to be born a wildmage, she thought grimly. But power on such a scale could do that, couldn't it? Twist a person's nature beyond recognition. Turn a human being into a monster.
The hurroks' magic flared up in her mind; they were close. Her head snapped up and she scanned the skies, pulling Cloud up short. "They're coming this way," she said tightly. "From the east." She gazed in that direction.
Numair also turned to the east, frowning, and raised a hand. Black fire bloomed around it, then spread out to form a large, shimmering globe around them, as he'd shielded them when the hurroks had attacked earlier. Now the flock came into view, flying hard over the plains. As they neared, Daine gasped to see how many there were - at least forty. She'd never *seen* so many hurroks together.
"He must have called in reinforcements," Numair murmured. He looked back at her. "It's all right - the shield will hold. But we shouldn't fight them -"
"They're not after us," she said quietly, reaching up to brush their mind with her magic. Her skin tingled.
No more than fifty yards away, the herd halted, fanning their leathery wings as they watched the mages below. Then they banked as one and headed south, the mass of the flock following their leader in a wave. Screeching calls to one another made Daine shiver as Numair dropped his shield.
"They're heading back to Ravenpeak," she whispered, and reached her magic after the vanishing flock. "They - oh no -" The hurroks' intent was clear. She felt dizzy. Ravenpeak didn't stand a chance against these, not as it was. She whirled on Numair. "You *have* to go back, and fight!"
"Daine, I can't," he said forcefully. His eyes narrowed, and she saw a return of his old self. "*We* are going to confront the wildmage behind this --"
"I can handle him myself," she told him hotly.
"You can't know that!" His temper was rising as well. "You *know* you aren't in perfect condition! *He's* been acting through those hurroks of his, and is in all likelihood in excellent shape! And from what we've heard, he's not the most noble opponent -- he doesn't play by anyone's rules." His tone grew somewhat softer, but remained urgent. "Daine, I would be the last person to question your mastery, strength or determination -- but admit it, you've never been up against a wildmage of your own caliber. Act wisely. You won't have your usual resources in this fight."
"I -- know -- that." She spoke through gritted teeth. "And believe me, I don't like it." Her chin trembled slightly. "But I *have* to put a stop to this. To him. My friends -- the People --" She paused, struggling to control her emotions, then looked at him with something like pleading in her eyes. She squared her shoulders. "This is a risk I have to take."
He said nothing, eyes tormented.
"Numair," she continued softly, "Ravenpeak's off guard, and they don't know these are coming. Even if they did they might not make it. They'll fall if you don't go back to help." There was no challenge to her words.
It was another long moment before he replied.
"I won't stop you," he whispered. His head bowed slightly.
She blinked back tears and drew close to him. They held each other tightly, not wanting to face a parting. She drew a ragged breath. "Numair -- the things I said earlier -- the things we were talking about --"
"Shh," he murmured, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "It's all right."
She felt a rush of love flooding her, and caught his hand in hers. "We'll... talk later," she told him firmly. "When all this is over. I promise."
He nodded, eyes bright. "Don't get killed, Daine," he said intensely. "I love you."
"I know." Her voice cracked. "And I love you." Silently she vowed to return to him, ignoring the logical odds. He sank one hand into her curls and kissed her tenderly; she wrapped her arms around him, trying to pour all she felt into the kiss. They gasped for air, lips roving.
Finally, she pulled away, wishing fervently that she could keep him by her side. "Goddess bless," she whispered, squeezing his hand one last time. "Now go."
"Goddess bless, magelet." His fingers trailed out of hers reluctantly as he turned Spots south, casting a final look at her over his shoulder. She too forced herself to urge Cloud along the mountain range, toward her own battle.
She couldn't afford to worry about Numair, not now. As she progressed toward her destination, her magical senses filled alarmingly. There was that cold, steely magic again -- the wildmage -- and many People with him. These, too, were unresponsive to her. She could feel their magic tainted by *his*, saturated by it: they were his. She realized that for the first time in her life, she would probably be forced to defend herself against People.
Numair was right, she thought wildly, heart fluttering. I won't have the kind of help I usually do.
Finally she, Cloud, and Windracer had reached the blocked-off cave entrance she'd found earlier, the cave mouth closed off by a large boulder. Daine dismounted, brushing through the yellow, waist-high grass. Hesitantly she laid a hand against the boulder; it was hot to the touch after baking all day in the sun. Light-headed, she looked up at the expanse of blue sky above, wondering if she'd ever see it again. It seemed to bear down on the land, ready to swallow it at any moment.
Daine turned to her oldest friend, tangling her hand in Cloud's mane. *Stay here*, she ordered firmly. You won't be much of a help in this fight anyway. (Dimly she registered that the man in the cave had assembled powerful hounds, wolves and mountain wildcats under his power.) If something happens to me, you know where to go. You can find your way back...?
Of course, the mare replied. But I won't be going back without you. You told the stork-man.
Daine smiled, hugging the pony, then rose and turned to the falcon on her shoulder. Are you sure you want to come?
I'm sure, Windracer said solidly. I said I'd help you, and I'll do everything I can. Besides -- he nodded towards the cave, an oddly human gesture -- there are some of my people in there. Perhaps I can turn them.
She stroked the bird's feathers, tears pricking her eyes. Thank you, she said simply. Turning to the boulder in the cave mouth, she seized it and pulled with all her might, managing to roll it away after a minute's effort. Sweating, she cast a last look at the vast plains, then pulled her bow and quiver from her saddle and stepped into the cave.
In a startling contrast to the climate outside, the cavern was dank and clammy as well as cool. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the gloom, she changed them to those of an owl and saw a stone corridor sloping downward from where she stood. Slinging her quiver over her shoulder, she selected a bolt and put it to the string. Ignoring the dryness of her mouth, she set off down the tunnel.
Moving away from the cave entrance, virtually all light vanished. Even with owl eyes, she placed each step carefully, moving along by touch as well as vision. Bat ears also gave her an idea of her surroundings. As she descended into the depths of the cave, the magic she sensed grew stronger. The malevolence was more pronounced now, particularly from the wildmage himself, but he had clearly infected the People's magic as well. It chilled her to feel such animosity radiating from those she'd always thought her friends.
Just as she thought this, the magics vanished.
She froze in the darkness, gripping her bow tightly. Was that what I think it is? she asked Windracer.
He's hiding himself, the falcon replied tersely, and the People, as he did with the hurroks -- so you can't sense them.
She shook her head. Well, I know they're close. If you don't mind, I'm going to do the same -- I'll just shut off my magic, so unfortunately we won't be able to talk.
That's fine.
She did, and felt the strange absence of any People. Communication was impossible, as she'd closed her mind, but over the years she had learned to retain some abilities while disabling others. Now, she was glad she could keep her owl eyes and bat ears; she would have stumbled without them.
Ahead, she could dimly hear air moving in a larger space: the corridor opened into a large cavern. She frowned, and moved forward more cautiously. To her surprise, light spilled into the tunnel from the space ahead, falling across the stone walls and floor. As she drew nearer, she felt air moving across her face: the cavern breathed a draft into the tunnel leading up to it.
She forced herself to keep moving, and finally was low enough to see into the stone chamber itself. Standing just outside the entrance, she relinquished her owl eyes and saw that the cavern was lit by torches set into iron grips on the stone walls. This was an inhabited place. Now she was dying to let down her guards and see if she could feel her enemy near, but she dared not risk letting him sense her. Regardless, she intended to be as ready as possible. Grimly she pulled the bowstring back to her ear, keeping the bow sight in front of her. She prayed it would not come to hurting People, for all that they would probably be set against her.
Her stomach turned over as she stepped into the cavern, the soft *clup* of her footsteps echoing. The cavern was empty and large, perhaps sixty yards across. Flickering torchlight illuminated rough gray-brown stone. She saw and heard nothing else, venturing several yards out into the open.
"Ill met, young wildmage," snarled a baritone voice behind her.
And speaking of betaing, I'd like to do a little plug for my dear beta and friend Melody. Brilliant writer, that girl -- she writes HP fic, so check it out! I believe her new pen name is Dragon's Daughter... (will have to check that)
PLEASE give me some feedback. The whole reason I post this stuff online is so I can get more! Especially for this chapter, because it's an important one -- and I'm thinking of seriously reworking it, as it's less polished than usual; I just sort of squeezed it all out (NOT without struggle) and plopped it down, and that's what you're reading. So: what do you make of it?
Chapter 10
There was a faint shimmering quality to the plains around her. It was in the air, something that sent a tremor racing up her spine, little sparks coursing through her veins. Magic, she knew. But nothing she could put a name to.
For long moments she stood in the waist-high grass, bow loaded and arched heavily in her grip, scanning the seemingly infinite plains, searching for an answer, straining every sense. Her magic picked up nothing definite. Hawk eyes took in only long, waving grasses stretching in every direction before her, and the movements of small animals hiding in them. Bat ears flicked about, gathering spidery clusters of sound. Breeze-stirred grasses brushing against each other, rodents scuttling around out of sight, the long sigh of the wind disturbed by the wing-beats of birds overhead --
Something scraping against rock, behind and above her.
She whirled, bow raised, to find a snarling hurrok falling on her. She loosed automatically, blood pounding in her ears, and the arrow slammed into the monster's throat. She tried to jump out of the way as it collapsed, thrashing, but a claw raked her left arm. Another hurrok was upon her, fangs bared and claws flexed; it slammed against a wall of sparkling black fire and fell away, stunned.
Numair was beside her, his magic surrounding them in a fiery globe as he pulled her back towards the cave. The remaining hurroks had dropped down from the ledge where they had been waiting, and now swooped around outside the cave, filling the heavy, hot air with screams of rage. Panic flared as Daine realized the horses were still outside with them. Cloud, Spots, *move out*! she ordered, putting her will behind it. It's us they want! Dimly she felt the horses obey.
"Where did they *come* from?" Numair demanded, his shield now stretched over the cave entrance in a glittering sheet. "They just swooped down --"
"They could only have come from one place," she pointed out tightly. "One *thing*. They were on top --" she jerked her head towards the arched stone ceiling -- "above us, and I couldn't feel them until they'd gotten us boxed in here." She watched the immortals circling outside, those flaming eyes of theirs fixed on the mages. She gripped her bow tightly. This was going to be a hard fight.
"A shield strong enough to keep them away isn't permeable," he told her after a moment. "We can either be safe behind it, or drop it completely and fight them."
"They're not going anywhere until either we're dead or they are. You'll have to drop it."
He gave her a long look, then turned back to the mouth of the cave. "Very well. Can you do anything magically?"
She clenched her jaw. "No. I'll shoot."
The mouth of the cave was wide enough for them both to stand in it, but it was tight. So close together in a fight, they would be a danger to each other as well as the foe. For one of them alone it would have been best to stay just inside the cave and be covered from all directions but one; as it was, they would have to stand outside to gain more scope. Now they stepped out of the cave, the fiery shield pushing out in a bubble around them. The hurroks eyed them hungrily.
"On the count of three," Numair said quietly. They moved apart to give each other space, she on the right, he on the left. Daine loaded her bow again. "One -- two -- three."
The shield vanished. For a moment, the rush of the hot air on her face and the sight of hurroks circling in every direction but behind her made Daine's head spin; but the hurroks wasted no time and swooped down, huge raptor's claws extended. Two of them dropped towards Daine, neck and neck. Adrenaline flashed through her; she would have to shoot *before* they got too close or she wouldn't take them both. Her first shot missed the creature's throat and went through the wing, which was nearly as good, disabling it. It fell from the air, screeching in pain. Her next arrow slashed the second hurrok's neck -- not lethal, but it pulled away hastily. On her left, at the edge of her vision, she saw a hurrok struggling against a shimmering black cord that twined around its neck like a living snake.
There were roughly twenty hurroks remaining. They kept close and attacked in clusters, making hard targets. Daine fired again and again, the back of her shirt drenched with sweat in the relentless heat of the sun and the intensity of battle. Soon the wound on her left arm began to pull; she ignored it, shooting desperately to keep her attackers at bay. Once she missed an incoming hurrok completely, having just shot its companion, and it swooped down, screaming its victory. She would have been dead if Numair hadn't flamed it just then, so strongly she felt the heat on her face.
Again, it made her queasy to be fighting immortals she couldn't feel. Their fiery eyes, cruel talons and chilling scream had never been divorced from the harshness of their bronze magic. Now, she felt completely cut off, on the other side of a thick curtain from them -- and she had not the slightest idea what entity had touched their magic, commanding them. Her *anonymous* foe. Tears of fury and frustration welled in her eyes at the thought of her helplessness -- her magic dented, debilitated. That *thing* was probably laughing at her right now: /The poor girl laid on her back -- bet she didn't count on something happening to her precious *powers* -- and now she just doesn't know what to do, gods help us --/
She snarled in fury at the thought and snapped an arrow into an attacking hurrok's eye, savoring its scream of pain and rage. Her next arrow plunged into a hurrok's chest; it fell struggling to the ground. Half a heartbeat later, she sent a third arrow into the next hurrok's eye again, barely five yards away. The monster tumbled to the ground, spending its death throes at the Wildmage's feet. She ignored it, raising her bow to meet another pair of hurroks who were clearly furious from the wounds she'd dealt them earlier in the battle. Adrenaline flushed her system; she barely felt the arrows under her fingers; they seemed to fly to her targets of their own accord -- the hurroks stumbled in the air, clawing desperately at the bolts buried in their necks. Higher overhead, a sparkling black cloud found a hurrok and spread over its body like a second hide; the hurrok screamed and thrashed as the magic ate away at it like acid, leaving only a skeleton by the time it hit the ground.
The tide of battle had turned. More than half of the hurroks lay on the ground, their remains sprawled in grotesque poses reminiscent of their final agony. Now the others gradually pulled back, rising higher into the air, glaring poisonously at the mages below. After a few moment's hesitation, they turned and flapped away, leaving behind the carnage of their herd-mates scattered among the tall, dry grass.
Daine lowered her bow, the hatred that had fueled her in the battle still pounding in her veins. The sun pressed on her cruelly; she pushed her sweaty hair back and strode over to the body of the hurrok she'd killed. A swarm of flies was already crawling around the dappled fur; its yellow eyes were dull and staring. Her jaw clenched; in a rage, she gave the dead hurrok a furious kick.
"Gods-cursed, filthy monster," she hissed through clenched teeth. "*Rot*."
"Daine." Numair had come over to her from his position on her left. His shirt was sweat-soaked, his hair tousled. He looked exhausted, as though they'd been fighting all day instead of half an hour. He eyed her wearily. "That's not helping anyone."
She glared up at him, breathing hard. In that moment, she hated him for being right. For being reasonable. She was sick of reason by now. She turned away, staring out over the graveyard of dead hurroks before them in the haze of heat.
Cloud, Spots, come back, she called tersely. They're gone now.
A gentle touch on her left arm made her wince. Her wound was still open, the blood staining her sleeve. "You're hurt," Numair said softly.
Her anger flared up anew; she jerked away from him. Would he *never* stop fussing over her? "I'm *fine*," she snarled. "Can you just leave me alone?"
Once again he looked beaten, unable to respond. His silence only needled her further; she turned on her heel and stalked back to the cave. Inside, the shade fell over her like a light, soft veil. She sat against the cool stone wall and leaned gratefully against it for a moment, her heartbeat slowing, before reaching into her pack. Sourly she jerked at a length of bandage, smearing ointment on it and wrapping it tightly around her left forearm.
Leaving both sleeves rolled up to the elbow against the heat, she leaned back against the cave wall and relaxed in the cool, soothing breath of the cavern. The horses had returned, and remained outside despite the smell of death and the carcasses of the hurroks. Exhaustion finally pushed through Daine's anger, accompanied by bitterness. Here she was again, having fought off another attack, helpless and none the wiser as to what it was she fought. And Numair was right: it wouldn't help to go about lashing out at everything in her way. She half-laughed at herself. It looked like there was nothing she *could* do to help herself, or anyone.
Footsteps told her without looking that Numair had returned. He took a seat -- across the cave from her -- and pulled a flask of water from his pack. He didn't look angry, hurt or even bitter, just tired. She couldn't blame him. Too much had happened, the rush of emotions, the heat of battle, and now she was too worn out even to talk about it. They sat in heavy silence for a while.
Even so, an idea teased at the back of her mind. Something had been bothering her for days, something she couldn't name. It wasn't even about her enemy, or about the hurroks she'd had to fight. Most of them were dead by now anyway, a fair number of them lying about the plains outside the cave. She could hear the calls of vultures circling above them this very moment.
She gasped and sat bolt upright, head spinning. But it was impossible -- it couldn't be --
"What's wrong?" Numair asked anxiously.
She took a moment to reply, her gaze wandering about the cave floor in thought. The vultures outside... the birds here... all the People.... She scanned her magical senses. Yes, even now, the People were dim in her vision, somewhat closed off to her. She had not needed to speak to them much in the past few days, but she now felt quite clearly that they had little wish to talk to *her*. The alienation made her skin crawl. How could she not have noticed it?
"I think I know what's going on," she said slowly as her idea came together. Her eyes, now focused and grim, returned to Numair. "The People around here have been... less than helpful, you could say. I first noticed it when I went out after the hurroks' attack -- the raptor scouts weren't very quick about telling me where the hurroks were, or very specific. I just didn't think too much about it at the time, because I had other things to worry about. But you know what else? They haven't come to help me in a single fight here, and they *always* do, even without my asking." An image of the hurrok dropping down on her on the East tower flashed across her mind, and she shuddered. "And recently, they haven't been, well, very *nice*. It's like we're just not very close." Her lips tightened. "So whatever's behind the hurroks -- it's probably the same thing -- it's affecting the People here too." She looked up at him. "Does this sound familiar?"
He eyed her critically.
It was surprisingly hard to make herself say it straight out. Daine found her head was pounding yet again, and raised a hand to her temples. "I think," she said quietly, "that the thing we're fighting isn't a god or elemental or immortal. It's a wildmage, just like me." She drew a breath. "That's how it could talk to the hurroks and order them around, telling them how to attack, and to attack me in particular. That's why I felt its magic with the hurroks', because it was *in* theirs. And it -- he -- or she -- told the People not to give me too much help."
Silence fell once again as this soaked in. Another wildmage comparable to her was news indeed. First, because they had never seen another with half as much magic as Daine, given her parentage. Second, because if such a wildmage was working against her, she had her work cut out for her. It was alarming: the singular constant she'd *always* known was the People's loyalty and friendship. Now it seemed she had a competitor coming between her and her friends, and their support was by no means ensured. Suddenly she felt eerily alone and helpless, like a warrior disarmed. A voice in her head sniggered. /Too bad, *Wildmage*. Maybe you shouldn't have always taken your magic for granted./
"It's possible," Numair said finally. He was still sprawled wearily against the cave wall, but his brow was furrowed in thought. "But that doesn't explain why his or her magic would feel unfamiliar to you, or why you are able to sense it only at close range."
"I don't know why it feels strange," she replied, fiddling with a curl. The idea disturbed her further. "But then, it's wild magic, isn't it? There are a lot of things we don't know about it."
"True." He sighed, looking at her grimly. "*This* is going to be... a fight." His dark eyes were troubled.
She nodded, grimacing slightly at the thought of confronting any enemy in her current state. "I just wish I could *know* something about him, instead of guessing," she said bitterly. "But I doubt the People will tell me much." Her fists clenched. She didn't reach out to them, but could still feel vaguely that their backs were turned, as she had never felt before in her life.
It was as if the thought had conjured him: a pale grey raptor swooped into the cave, coming to rest on the ground between them. Daine found she had rarely been so glad to see one of the People in her life. "Windracer!" She moved away from the wall, settling closer to the falcon. So *one* of her friends here, at least, was willing to talk to her. She looked up at Numair. "Remember him? The fellow I helped on the road." The mage nodded; she turned back to Windracer. "I am very glad to see *you*."
Likewise, the bird said shortly. And I can't blame you, given how the People have been treating you lately.
"What?" she asked. Windracer seemed to know a good deal about the situation. "Yes, why? I mean, I think I have an idea --"
Just let me explain. We don't have much time. The falcon was rocking from foot to foot, as though trying to say something difficult. There is, he continued at length, a two-legger here much like you. He is both human and People, but greater than us.
Even in the heat, Daine felt icy. She translated for Numair. "Yes, that's what I thought," she told Windracer. "It was hard to believe, though, because we're so rare."
Listen, he wants you dead. He knows you're equally powerful, and a threat to him. He first called the hurroks here because he knew you would come to fight them. When you came, he covered up their magic so you couldn't sense them. He set them on you several times, but I think now he's just planning to take you on himself.
There was something different to the quality of Windracer's mind- speech. He sounded more intelligent; his thoughts came through with more depth and complexity than when she had first spoken to him. Then, he had sounded like a normal falcon; now, he spoke like one of her close friends, their intelligence enhanced by her magic. Daine repeated his words aloud again. "And he told the People not to tell me he was here? And not to help me?"
After a while, yes. Not so much in the beginning, he was afraid you'd suspect. He wasn't happy about it then, even so. A definite note of disgust entered the bird's voice.
"How not?"
Windracer took a moment to repond. He wasn't very reasonable, he said finally. If he made us not talk to you at all, you'd probably know what was going on; but he hated it when we helped you. You see, he's... not like you. He doesn't try to help us -- like you helped me on the road -- unless it will help *him* somehow. He makes us do things, instead of asking us like you asked the raptors' help a few days ago. He makes us do... bad things, sometimes. Often we get hurt doing them, but he doesn't care. The falcon's claws flexed, scraping on the stone floor.
And he says if we don't, we'll be punished. He does it sometimes anyway, even if we do everything he says, just to keep us down. But I don't care. *I* am not going to be a party to what he does with his power. Windracer looked up at her. You saved my life, and the least I can do is try to help you. He paused, then added, I'm very sorry you were hurt.
Daine closed her eyes for a moment, taking this all in. The frustration and anger with herself she had felt earlier were channeled and crystallized into a fury at how this man -- the wildmage -- treated the People. Using his magic to manipulate them, not caring if they were hurt, not bothering to heal them, though he obviously could.... Her blood boiled. She opened her eyes and faced the falcon in front of her.
"Thank you." The phrase sounded so humble and inadequate given what she wanted to express. "You are one of the bravest, noblest People I have met," she told Windracer, and knelt in front of him. "Wing-brother, I swear that if I am able to prevent it, this man will not harm you -- wildmage or no."
Windracer watched her, trust in his sharp golden eyes. It will be a hard battle. He's very powerful. He is the son of a god.
"And I am the daughter of one," Daine replied. There was no vainglory in the statement; her smoky blue eyes were hard. "And I plan to put an end to the man's actions, or die in the attempt."
"Daine." That was Numair, leaning toward her anxiously. She had almost forgotten he sat next to her, unable to follow the conversation. "What does he say?"
She explained what Windracer had said, a bit impatiently. She found it difficult to keep her voice even, and at length noticed a sharp pain in her palms from her nails digging into them.
She felt something akin to the hunger of a wolf pursuing its prey rise in her. This man -- though she was hesitant to call him that -- was a wildmage as strong as she, and was *using* the People like slaves, for his own foul endeavors. Well, before he tried to hurt them again he would have to kill her first.
Numair watched her wordlessly as she spoke, his face tense. "Well," he said simply when she'd finished. "This is...." He seemed to struggle for words. "This is quite an earful."
"I know it is." She rose briskly, gripping her pack and bow. "Let's go do something about it, shall we?"
Numair looked at her gravely for a long moment, then followed suit.
"Windracer -- when I was out here three days ago, I felt him, in a cave --"
Yes. He often stays in a cave in these mountains, northeast of here. I believe he's there now.
Daine nodded. "That's what I thought. That's where we were going, anyway." She patted her shoulder; the falcon fluttered up to perch there. "Let's go." She was anxious -- more than anxious -- to get going, to find that cave, this man. To sink her teeth into this throat..
As they stepped out of the cave she froze as an unpleasant and familiar bronze presence stained her magical senses. A tremor crawled up her spine as she realized what this could mean.
"I can feel the hurroks," she informed her companions. She looked sharply at Windracer.
He will know by now, the falcon replied, looking out over the plains. He knows what I've told you, and that you are on your way. He has no need to mask the hurroks.
She translated for Numair and added, "Will he send another attack?"
I doubt it. I think he's waiting for you in the cave.
"Well then," she said coldly. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting, now would we?" She fastened her packs to Cloud's saddle and mounted up, taking a moment to pull her tousled curls back to order under a leather tie.
No one spoke as they set off along the line of mountains under the cruel heat. She couldn't help but wonder if Numair was longing to give his usual words about her risking herself; either way, she was glad he said nothing. Part of her ached at seeing him so quiet, knowing how helpless he felt. She knew fully that something had come between them since she'd balked at his protectiveness, and it made her want to cry out that she loved him with all her heart, no matter what. but she couldn't, not now. Besides, it was not the time to think about risk. No one in the mortal or divine realms could keep her from going to that cave now.
She remembered Selene's words. /Power can too easily be used for evil..../ She wondered if perhaps her enemy had been a rather decent man, before his magical career. Well, it was no one's choice for him to be born a wildmage, she thought grimly. But power on such a scale could do that, couldn't it? Twist a person's nature beyond recognition. Turn a human being into a monster.
The hurroks' magic flared up in her mind; they were close. Her head snapped up and she scanned the skies, pulling Cloud up short. "They're coming this way," she said tightly. "From the east." She gazed in that direction.
Numair also turned to the east, frowning, and raised a hand. Black fire bloomed around it, then spread out to form a large, shimmering globe around them, as he'd shielded them when the hurroks had attacked earlier. Now the flock came into view, flying hard over the plains. As they neared, Daine gasped to see how many there were - at least forty. She'd never *seen* so many hurroks together.
"He must have called in reinforcements," Numair murmured. He looked back at her. "It's all right - the shield will hold. But we shouldn't fight them -"
"They're not after us," she said quietly, reaching up to brush their mind with her magic. Her skin tingled.
No more than fifty yards away, the herd halted, fanning their leathery wings as they watched the mages below. Then they banked as one and headed south, the mass of the flock following their leader in a wave. Screeching calls to one another made Daine shiver as Numair dropped his shield.
"They're heading back to Ravenpeak," she whispered, and reached her magic after the vanishing flock. "They - oh no -" The hurroks' intent was clear. She felt dizzy. Ravenpeak didn't stand a chance against these, not as it was. She whirled on Numair. "You *have* to go back, and fight!"
"Daine, I can't," he said forcefully. His eyes narrowed, and she saw a return of his old self. "*We* are going to confront the wildmage behind this --"
"I can handle him myself," she told him hotly.
"You can't know that!" His temper was rising as well. "You *know* you aren't in perfect condition! *He's* been acting through those hurroks of his, and is in all likelihood in excellent shape! And from what we've heard, he's not the most noble opponent -- he doesn't play by anyone's rules." His tone grew somewhat softer, but remained urgent. "Daine, I would be the last person to question your mastery, strength or determination -- but admit it, you've never been up against a wildmage of your own caliber. Act wisely. You won't have your usual resources in this fight."
"I -- know -- that." She spoke through gritted teeth. "And believe me, I don't like it." Her chin trembled slightly. "But I *have* to put a stop to this. To him. My friends -- the People --" She paused, struggling to control her emotions, then looked at him with something like pleading in her eyes. She squared her shoulders. "This is a risk I have to take."
He said nothing, eyes tormented.
"Numair," she continued softly, "Ravenpeak's off guard, and they don't know these are coming. Even if they did they might not make it. They'll fall if you don't go back to help." There was no challenge to her words.
It was another long moment before he replied.
"I won't stop you," he whispered. His head bowed slightly.
She blinked back tears and drew close to him. They held each other tightly, not wanting to face a parting. She drew a ragged breath. "Numair -- the things I said earlier -- the things we were talking about --"
"Shh," he murmured, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "It's all right."
She felt a rush of love flooding her, and caught his hand in hers. "We'll... talk later," she told him firmly. "When all this is over. I promise."
He nodded, eyes bright. "Don't get killed, Daine," he said intensely. "I love you."
"I know." Her voice cracked. "And I love you." Silently she vowed to return to him, ignoring the logical odds. He sank one hand into her curls and kissed her tenderly; she wrapped her arms around him, trying to pour all she felt into the kiss. They gasped for air, lips roving.
Finally, she pulled away, wishing fervently that she could keep him by her side. "Goddess bless," she whispered, squeezing his hand one last time. "Now go."
"Goddess bless, magelet." His fingers trailed out of hers reluctantly as he turned Spots south, casting a final look at her over his shoulder. She too forced herself to urge Cloud along the mountain range, toward her own battle.
She couldn't afford to worry about Numair, not now. As she progressed toward her destination, her magical senses filled alarmingly. There was that cold, steely magic again -- the wildmage -- and many People with him. These, too, were unresponsive to her. She could feel their magic tainted by *his*, saturated by it: they were his. She realized that for the first time in her life, she would probably be forced to defend herself against People.
Numair was right, she thought wildly, heart fluttering. I won't have the kind of help I usually do.
Finally she, Cloud, and Windracer had reached the blocked-off cave entrance she'd found earlier, the cave mouth closed off by a large boulder. Daine dismounted, brushing through the yellow, waist-high grass. Hesitantly she laid a hand against the boulder; it was hot to the touch after baking all day in the sun. Light-headed, she looked up at the expanse of blue sky above, wondering if she'd ever see it again. It seemed to bear down on the land, ready to swallow it at any moment.
Daine turned to her oldest friend, tangling her hand in Cloud's mane. *Stay here*, she ordered firmly. You won't be much of a help in this fight anyway. (Dimly she registered that the man in the cave had assembled powerful hounds, wolves and mountain wildcats under his power.) If something happens to me, you know where to go. You can find your way back...?
Of course, the mare replied. But I won't be going back without you. You told the stork-man.
Daine smiled, hugging the pony, then rose and turned to the falcon on her shoulder. Are you sure you want to come?
I'm sure, Windracer said solidly. I said I'd help you, and I'll do everything I can. Besides -- he nodded towards the cave, an oddly human gesture -- there are some of my people in there. Perhaps I can turn them.
She stroked the bird's feathers, tears pricking her eyes. Thank you, she said simply. Turning to the boulder in the cave mouth, she seized it and pulled with all her might, managing to roll it away after a minute's effort. Sweating, she cast a last look at the vast plains, then pulled her bow and quiver from her saddle and stepped into the cave.
In a startling contrast to the climate outside, the cavern was dank and clammy as well as cool. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the gloom, she changed them to those of an owl and saw a stone corridor sloping downward from where she stood. Slinging her quiver over her shoulder, she selected a bolt and put it to the string. Ignoring the dryness of her mouth, she set off down the tunnel.
Moving away from the cave entrance, virtually all light vanished. Even with owl eyes, she placed each step carefully, moving along by touch as well as vision. Bat ears also gave her an idea of her surroundings. As she descended into the depths of the cave, the magic she sensed grew stronger. The malevolence was more pronounced now, particularly from the wildmage himself, but he had clearly infected the People's magic as well. It chilled her to feel such animosity radiating from those she'd always thought her friends.
Just as she thought this, the magics vanished.
She froze in the darkness, gripping her bow tightly. Was that what I think it is? she asked Windracer.
He's hiding himself, the falcon replied tersely, and the People, as he did with the hurroks -- so you can't sense them.
She shook her head. Well, I know they're close. If you don't mind, I'm going to do the same -- I'll just shut off my magic, so unfortunately we won't be able to talk.
That's fine.
She did, and felt the strange absence of any People. Communication was impossible, as she'd closed her mind, but over the years she had learned to retain some abilities while disabling others. Now, she was glad she could keep her owl eyes and bat ears; she would have stumbled without them.
Ahead, she could dimly hear air moving in a larger space: the corridor opened into a large cavern. She frowned, and moved forward more cautiously. To her surprise, light spilled into the tunnel from the space ahead, falling across the stone walls and floor. As she drew nearer, she felt air moving across her face: the cavern breathed a draft into the tunnel leading up to it.
She forced herself to keep moving, and finally was low enough to see into the stone chamber itself. Standing just outside the entrance, she relinquished her owl eyes and saw that the cavern was lit by torches set into iron grips on the stone walls. This was an inhabited place. Now she was dying to let down her guards and see if she could feel her enemy near, but she dared not risk letting him sense her. Regardless, she intended to be as ready as possible. Grimly she pulled the bowstring back to her ear, keeping the bow sight in front of her. She prayed it would not come to hurting People, for all that they would probably be set against her.
Her stomach turned over as she stepped into the cavern, the soft *clup* of her footsteps echoing. The cavern was empty and large, perhaps sixty yards across. Flickering torchlight illuminated rough gray-brown stone. She saw and heard nothing else, venturing several yards out into the open.
"Ill met, young wildmage," snarled a baritone voice behind her.
