Disclaimer: Daine, Numair and the rest of Tamora Pierce's awesome characters and places do not belong to me. If they did, my head would be too big to fit through doors!
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed last time. :) Thanks to Darking Queen for pointing out the mistake with the colour of wild magic. Oops. And I'm sure that I knew that too...Oh, well. It's fixed now, and I'll just pretend that Daine (and me) had temporary colour-blindness or something!
Daine stumbled back a few paces, one hand pressed futilely to her ear in an effort to shut out the Gods-awful sound, and the other scrabbling for her bow. The hideous symphony of animal cries – pained, dying animals – thundered inside her head and almost brought her to her knees.
There was that voice again, yelling. Wrenching her head up, Daine forced her shaking fingers around the bow, raising it to the sky.
"Daine! Close them out! Just like the voices of the People! Close them out!"
She tried. Closing her eyes, she tried to force the voices out – and sobbed aloud as her body buckled under new waves of pain.
"Focus! You have to push them away!"
The voice came again, adding to the agonizing chaos. She wished she could scream at it to be quiet, but her mouth refused to open. Her muscles had seized and she felt herself start to fall. Before she could hit the ground, black tendrils encircled Daine's wrists and upper arms, hauling her back to her feet. She stared at them in foggy confusion. 'Numair,' she realised through the mists of torment. She wanted to look for him, touch him, but could see nothing but the encroaching darkness.
Strong hands grabbed her, pulling her backward. Daine swung around almost sleepily, struggling feebly against the unrelenting grip. The mysterious fingers moved to her hair, cupping her head fiercely. A small squeak emerged in pitiful protest - objection that soon turned to gasps of relief.
Daine's body physically swayed as she felt the strains of wild magic curling inside her skull. Familiar in some ways, but foreign as well – magic then, but not her own. The screams were quieter now, reluctantly receding, driven out by a greater power. Silence – blissful nothingness – reigned in her mind for a single moment, and then more familiar, but equally terrifying, noises took hold.
Eyes flying open, her thoughts lucid once more, Daine steadied her trembling legs and looked around in horror. The peaceful courtyard had become a battlefield. She heard the clang of metal as swords swiped at feathered limbs and swooping claws. Human grunts and groans filled the air as the now eerily silent Blazewings dove for their prey, slicing through armour and muscle with razor-edged talons. The tangy smell of freshly- spilled blood lingered on the breeze.
It was like waking from one nightmare into another. Daine searched the scene frantically for her friends, automatically pulling a new arrow from her quiver. There was Alanna, valiantly fighting side-by-side with Thayet. She couldn't see Onua, but could hear her furious war-cries. Numair...where was Numair?
She heard a whistle – the sound of feathers in the wind – and snapped around just in time to see a fire-eyed Blazewing explode in a shower of sparks and blood. Red and black fluid splattered on Daine's face and shoulders, and she reminded herself to be disgusted about that later. Right now...her gaze cut through the frenzied thrashing of limbs and weapons, and fixed on Numair. Her relief almost overwhelmed her as she saw the mage looking cross, but unharmed. His black Gift was threading through his long fingers, and Daine watched as another Blazewing was given the same treatment as its cohort. She guessed that he'd been keeping them away from her, and felt gratitude mingle with shame at her hindrance during the fighting.
While he was momentarily preoccupied, the creature deftly avoiding Alanna's sword spiraled toward the back of Numair's head. Acting on pure reflex, Daine drew her bow and sent an arrow tunneling directly between two molten eyes. The Blazewing jerked back and crashed to the ground, narrowly missing a dagger-wielding Princess Azassandra. Numair glanced from the fallen carcass to Daine, smiling in relief to see her firmly upright. He flashed a thankful look at her, and neatly dodged an arcing talon. Daine took aim and let another arrow fly, striking the new Blazewing in the neck. Close by, sunlight – seeming so serene and out of place now – glinted off bronze as Jardan's sword swiftly beheaded his own assailant.
"Try to avoid being cut by their feathers!" he roared at the Tortallans. "And whatever you do, do not let them bite you!"
Bite? Daine peered more closely at the few Blazewings left and saw that, sure enough, each creature sported an impressive set of dense fangs. She ducked a vicious snap of teeth as a blur of blistering feathers whirred past her ear, only to be cut short by the swing of Alanna's sword. A Blazewing lurched drunkenly in the sky, mired by strangling ropes of black fire. The royals were making short work of the rest of the pack and, as the Princess' matching daggers brought down a particularly stalwart beast, the Blazewings were finally overcome.
There was a thud as the last of their enemies hit the paving, and then all that could be heard was the gentle clang of swords lowered to the ground and the rasp of panting breaths. Looking around, unable to keep her legs from quivering, Daine saw that all of the humans were covered in an unpleasant mix of blood and black bile from the Blazewings. Faces and bodies were a mess of torn armour and flesh, bruises and cracked bones, but everyone was still on their feet – just.
Something soft brushed against Daine's leg, making her jump. She looked down into Zek's anxious eyes, and immediately scooped him up in relief.
'Are you hurt?' she asked, worried.
The marmoset shook his head. 'Not hurt. Flowers fell off lady's head. Hid in them. Worried about you.'
In the midst of all the death and suffering, Daine managed to find a smile.
'I'm fine,' she reassured him, stroking his back.
Suddenly, King Benjamin broke the silence.
"Well," he said, looking ruefully around the bedraggled company. "That's not quite how we wanted to welcome you to Raillenden."
Thayet laughed tiredly. "I'm sure we all feel right at home now, actually. Although I can't say we've ever had an attack quite like that one."
"No," the king said, rather heavily. "The Blazewings are our particular joy alone."
During the interim silence that followed, Numair – rather grey from fatigue – came to Daine's side and pulled her wordlessly into his arms. She bunched her fingers in his robes and clung, oblivious to watching eyes. Rubbing her nose against his chest, she could feel his rapid breathing and the slight tremble of muscles. Pulling back to look into his face, she raised a hand to his chin in concern.
"Are you alright?" they asked in unison, before smiling wearily.
"I'm fine," Daine told him, then frowned slightly. "Thanks to you."
Numair shook his head. "Don't start feeling guilty that you weren't able to fight back right away. You were hardly able to move, you seemed to be in so much pain! Does it still hurt? What happened?"
His eyes were still full of fear – for her, she realised.
"No." Daine shook her head, "I don't know what happened. It was only me then? That heard it?"
"It?" Numair asked, looking sharply at her.
"Screaming, pain...dying," Daine murmured almost incoherently, not wanting to remember.
"Jardan Treylrawne was affected too. At first." Numair spoke the words slowly, watching her carefully. "He seemed to recover and then, when you started to fall, he went to help. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't."
The guilt was clear in his voice, and Daine stroked her hand comfortingly over his chest.
"You did help. I would have taken a nosedive into the paving stones if it weren't for you. Right before I was eaten by a Blazewing."
"Yes, the teeth..." Numair mused, absently winding a brown curl around his finger. "I've never seen anything like the Blazewings before."
"And pray you never have to again."
Daine and Numair both turned towards the cool voice. Jardan met their gazes impassively, wiping his sword clean and re-sheathing it.
"You lent me your magic," Daine said slowly.
Jardan shrugged.
"You've never had to come up against Blazewings before. You weren't prepared."
There was no censure or mocking in his matter-of-fact tone.
"Thank you," Daine said quietly.
He nodded, meeting her gaze evenly.
"If there is a next time, I'll make sure you can defend yourself."
"The...noises," she began. "What..."
"They can be blocked out," Jardan interrupted, "With effort."
"We're the only ones who heard them."
It wasn't a question.
Jardan considered her thoughtfully.
"We're the only Wild Mages here, so far as I know."
"The Blazewings are an air-borne menace," King Benjamin spoke up.
Daine jumped; she hadn't noticed that they'd been joined by the others.
"They have their similarities to the Stormwings," the king continued. He paused before adding: "They are also very different. The Blazewings are not immortals. They're mage-made...mage-cursed."
"Created by a mage?" Numair spoke up sharply. "But..."
"Stormwings feed on the bitter impulses of men – they thrive on the spoils of humankind's worst instincts." A new voice – deep and melodious – spoke up. "Blazewings...they turn man into his own worst enemy."
All heads turned toward the figure walking slowly into the courtyard. Standing tall and upright, clad in brown robes, the man's very bearing commanded respect.
That he received. Daine was slightly startled as once again the battle-worn people gathered around their king began to bow. She wondered if the stranger was royalty also.
"Daionarus," King Benjamin said, smiling in startled welcome. "You are back, my friend. We had not expected you for some days yet."
Daionarus – one of the Elders, Daine remembered. The Great Mage of Raillenden.
"I completed my business earlier than anticipated," the mage replied, "Although not in time to be of assistance, I see."
Beside her, Alanna eyed the bobbing Sailan people. She turned to Onua. "I bet you five gold nobles that Numair wants us to start bowing to him."
Both women coughed back snickers.
Daine watched as Daionarus approached – a majestic man with silver-flecked dark hair, he was probably a few years older than the king. There were deep grooves running from nose to mouth, and, most noticeable of all, brown strips encircling his head and covering his eyes.
She frowned.
"Is something wrong?" whispered a voice in her ear.
Turning, she saw Princess Azassandra's friendly, quizzical face.
"That's Daionarus? Your Elder?" Daine asked hesitantly.
"Yes, that's Daionarus."
"But...your mother said that he's always reading, like Numair. And...well..." She searched for a way to say it without sounding rude. Giving up, she asked: "Isn't he blind?"
Azassandra smiled. "Oh, yes, he is. He was blinded in a spidren attack when he was around our age. It's terribly sad. But it's true that he rarely has a book away from his face."
Daine blinked, and noticed the thick volume that the mage clutched as they spoke.
"But..."
"He's charmed the books to read aloud to him, you see," Azassandra explained. "He's not very popular in the libraries."
Daine smiled. "I hope he doesn't teach Numair that spell," she said, shaking her head. "It would drive me mad."
"You're marrying Master Salmalin?" the princess questioned, her eyes going to where the mage was being introduced to Daionarus.
Looking at her a shade warily, Daine nodded, unable to keep her grin from widening. She didn't know if the young royal would comment on their age difference, but it wouldn't bother her overly much even if she did. She loved Numair, and she knew that he loved her. That was enough. She didn't need other people's approval.
Azassandra nodded, almost wistfully, Daine thought. "I'm glad. You look right together."
Of course, it was still nice when people did approve.
"I think so," she agreed, meeting Numair's gaze as he paused in his conversation with Daionarus.
His eyes immediately softened and he slanted a smile at her, which she affectionately returned.
The moment was rudely broken by the less than dulcet tones of Prince Braydon.
"The rooms for our guests are ready, Mother," he drawled, not sounding as if he cared in the least.
Daine's eyes narrowed slightly as they fell on the handsome, sulky prince. Sir Renwald stood at his side, and the two of them looked suspiciously...clean.
"Thank you, Braydon," Queen Lijana said calmly. Turning to the guests, she beamed in companionable apology. "If you'll follow me inside, I'll send for the healers – now that you've fought a battle with us, but haven't even set foot in the palace yet!"
Daine sat down on the plush bed with a grateful sigh, and glanced around her opulent room. She had escaped the Blazewing attack relatively unscathed, thanks to Numair and Jardan – a fact that she was still slightly ashamed of, but she couldn't be sorry that she wasn't still under the care of the palace healers.
A gentle knock sounded on her door, and she hauled herself to tired feet reluctantly. Pulling the door open, she looked up into a familiar face, and immediately felt a fresh wave of energy and happiness.
"Numair," she said, automatically reaching for him. She frowned when he evaded her hands and stepped back. He'd changed into a simple shirt and breeches, and seemed tense.
"May I come in?" he said quietly, looking at her seriously.
"What's wrong?" Daine stepped back immediately to allow him entry.
He didn't answer her question, but walked past her into the room. There, he hesitated and looked uncomfortably at his hands, the window, the bed – anywhere but at her, it seemed.
"Numair?" she questioned again, more forcefully this time. "What is it? Was someone hurt worse than we thought? Is..."
He shook his head at once. "No. Everyone's healing fine. It isn't that."
"Then what is it?" she asked impatiently.
Finally, he drew in a deep breath and met her gaze.
"Jardan Treylrawne."
Daine stared at him in puzzlement. "Jardan? What about him?"
Numair shook his head again.
"Nothing. Just...I don't know...he's a Wild Mage."
"Yes. I know...Numair, what's going on? Are you worried that I'll feel threatened? Because I won't. Well, perhaps I will, I don't know, but it won't..."
"No, I'm not worried about that," Numair interrupted. He smiled at her ruefully. "You can hold your own anywhere."
"Then what? I would have thought you'd be excited about having another source of Wild Magic to learn fr..."
"He's very good-looking."
The words were blunt, and accompanied by a searching look.
"I guess so," Daine agreed warily. Then her expression changed. "Oh gods, Numair, you don't actually think that I'd..." Her voice trailed off in indignation.
Numair looked at her once more; then ran a hand over his hair, sighing deeply.
"I'm being a dolt, aren't I?" he said, reading her mind.
"Yes," she told him flatly. She smacked him on the arm crossly. "Numair, you know that I love you! I've told you often enough, haven't I? I don't want anyone but you. There could be a thousand handsome Wild Mages and I still wouldn't..."
Her words were swallowed up in his mouth as he kissed her. Deciding to forgive him for now and finish her speech later, Daine enthusiastically kissed him back, throwing her arms around his neck. One of Numair's hands rose to delve greedily into her curly hair; while the other soothingly stroked her ribcage and belly, sliding around her hip.
Her hands slipped unconsciously under his shirt, seeking the warmth of his skin, and she tugged at the fabric bossily. Laughing softly against her mouth, he obliged her by pulling it off and then set to work on hers, tormenting her with little biting kisses. Hands at her waist, Numair backed her up and gently tipped her onto the bed, following her down.
"I love you," he murmured in her ear, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat.
Daine cupped his head in her hands. "Love you more," she argued.
He shook his head against her neck, his words muffled. "Not possible."
The voice that suddenly echoed through her head was unwelcome, unexpected and horrifyingly familiar.
'Excuse me while I choke to death on all the sentiment.'
"Jardan?!"
Numair's hands and the warmth of his body abruptly left her.
"What?!"
Daine sat up fast at his outraged exclamation, tugging ineffectually at her breastband, and met his disbelieving eyes.
She opened her mouth, but was unable to say a word. Gods, she must be crazed with lust and exhaustion. For a moment, she actually thought she'd heard Jardan Treylrawne's voice in her head.
'You did.'
She froze.
'Well,' said Jardan's disembodied voice flatly, 'This is new.'
Daine looked at Numair's shocked, angry expression; tried to assimilate the fact that Jardan was inside her head; and said the only appropriate thing under the circumstances.
"Mithros, Minos, and Shakith!"