Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise from Tamora Pierce's books.
A/N: Pretty dark chapter, with almost zero fluff. I promise there'll be more later. What can I say, I'm fluff-obsessed! Again, thank you for the reviews and the advice. I really really appreciate them. I see some people have ideas about what's going to happen. I'm not really sure myself! I know pretty much who's bad and who's good, and I have a basic plot, and that's about it. :)
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Bow in hand, her body taut with tension, Daine tore up the last few steps and sprinted through a towering stone bower into a grassy plain. With immediate shocking force, the now familiar, but still terrible, cries of the diving, circling Blazewings ripped through her bones, sending her reeling back and scattering coherent thought. Crying out, she pressed one hand to her ear in a pathetic attempt to stop the pain. Panting sobs and a thousand agonized screams ricocheted inside her mind, whirling into a suffocating vortex of torture. Choking for breath, she struggled against the strangling hold of icy limbs – invisible claws that seemed to tear at organs and sunder muscles. She was shaking with frigid cold and fear, but her mind and gut burned like the stabbing of molten steel.
Forced almost to her knees, like a supplicant praying for mercy, one tangible emotion seemed to latch onto the straying threads of Daine's consciousness. Annoyance. Once more she was being rendered useless in battle by an unknown foe, a coward who hid behind their monstrous creations. Clinging to those muted feelings of outrage and defiance, she jerked to her feet in an abrupt movement. Eyes clamped shut, she tried to focus, frantically grasping at any remaining lucidity. It was as if cold hands had slashed into her skull, and were slowly compressing her brain in clammy dead flesh.
Nails burrowing and clawing fruitlessly through her hair, Daine silently screamed her desperation, trying to drown out the wails of betrayal. A stray command eased its way between pained cries – the faint recollection of a lesson. Jardan. She remembered his voice, coaching, instructive...saying...saying what? Memory struck her like a bodily blow, reason following in its wake.
'Push the cries out of your head. It isn't like shutting out the voices of the People; you have to think of the pain as a material object and clear it. If you envision something that you lo...something that makes you happy, it's like gaining an extra pair of arms to help. Think of it as applying brute mental force.'
'Something that you...what were you going to say? Something that you love?'
'Don't go there, Daine.'
Her hands and legs shook with exhaustion, as if she really were striking out against a physical attack. The dense shroud of terror dissipated slightly, and faint images began to take hold. She slowly pieced together pictures of Numair - his rueful frown as he corrected her grammar, sleepy smiles in the morning and kisses at night and, finally, a large trembling fist opening to reveal a ring. Adrenalin shot through Daine's body and she gasped aloud, shaking free of the last crippling cries. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stood in momentary stillness, panting with relief.
Before she could register her surroundings or try to move sluggish muscles, a blur of motion shot past Daine's left eye and a burning heat touched her skin. Still weak, she was critically slow to react. Beginning to turn, to grab for her fallen bow, she screamed in sudden outrage as violent pain tore through her scalp. The Blazewing tightened its talons with sadistic pleasure, slashing through her curls to rip at tender skin. Ignoring her painful struggles and breathless curses, the creature lifted her kicking feet clear of the ground. The moment she became convinced that her hair was parting company with her head, a livid shout broke the air nearby. Black fire erupted in her vision, encircling her ankles and netting the beast in tight tendrils. A surge of power pushed her upward and held, giving blessed relief to her tormented tresses.
Struggling wildly against its suffocating bonds, the Blazewing concentrated its strength and jerked, throwing Daine full force against the nearby stone wall. The jarring impact shuddered through her tired frame, and she landed in the dirt with scarce enough energy to breathe. Cracking open eyes that felt encrusted by sweat and blood, she was just in time to see the black ropes flex with enraged vengeance. The pressure proved too much and the creature exploded in an impressively disgusting display.
Tempted to sink back to the ground and succumb to either sleep or death – if it meant a release from her aching body, she didn't care which just then – Daine forced herself to rise. Clambering to her knees and then her feet, she swayed, struck by instant dizziness and nausea. Gingerly, she raised a hand to the back of her head and immediately winced at the sight of crimson- soiled fingers. Peering around almost sleepily for her bow and quiver, the scene before her finally became shockingly clear, and air halted in her parched throat.
Before her wide horrified eyes, the Sailans and Tortallians – torn, bloody and wavering – fought valiantly against myriad Blazewings. Surging urgently forward, Daine scrambled for her weapon, her gaze mentally gauging the mass of the enemy. Twenty – no, more – perhaps thirty of the colossal creatures sliced through the sky, feverish flaming eyes fixed on their human targets. The density of their writhing, driven forms cast murky shadows along the grass, skating over fallen bodies and ominous stains.
A sudden cry broke Daine from her transfixed state. Forgetting the pain of her body through sheer necessity, she snapped around and saw Azassandra desperately trying to evade the grasp of a particularly brutish beast. The princess' daggers were several yards beyond her grasping hands, firmly implanted in the neck of a dead Blazewing. Its insatiable brethren lunged at her, teeth bared, deftly avoiding her frantic kicks. Drawing her bow, Daine didn't hesitate. Her arrow hit the creature in the wing and it flailed mid-air, before falling gracelessly to the ground. Undaunted, determined to get its prey, the monster lurched forward, broken appendage dragging through the mud. Her second shot splintered its neck; the third lodged in its head. Doggedly, it persisted, hooked talons arcing with lethal skill. Reaching back with both hands, Azassandra gripped her daggers, pulled them free and vaulted to her feet. One arm drove forward with angry force, the other sliced the sky, and the Blazewing dropped at her feet. As the flames in its black domed eyes flickered and faded, the girl looked over at Daine quickly.
"Thanks...Daine! Watch your back!"
This time, Daine was prepared. Whipping around, her fingers tightened on Weiryn's bow and she fired an arrow at close range. Her assailant's upper torso burst, splattering a vile-smelling black substance. Swiping it from her lashes, Daine scowled. She was getting fair tired of these gods-cursed eyesores. Energized by her growing irritation, she reeled off one shot after another, relentlessly pursuing the Blazewings as they looped above. Black smoke rose in the sky as explosions of power echoed along the ground. Numair was using bolts of opaque lightning to herd the beasts into a charmed sphere, whereupon they began to buck like angry stallions, careening off nonexistent walls until they deflated into dust. Daionarus, head cocked and face calm, stood resolutely with both arms raised, hands moving slightly with the force of his Gift. He had created a magical shield that wrapped the palace like a Midsummer parcel, protecting the children and servants within.
A short distance from him, and picking off Blazewings with almost frightening ease, were the two remaining Elders, Isorus and Lemerus. The pair had arrived from their respective isles two days earlier, a fact that Daine was now immeasurably grateful for. Isorus of Zlarimorr was a man of perhaps sixty years, with long white hair, a grizzled beard and kind twinkling eyes. Lemerus of Aronyll, to Daine's surprise, had turned out to be a woman, and a relatively youthful one at that. The female Elder looked to be around thirty, and was extremely attractive with reddish brown hair and a dancing blue gaze. The sheer strength of the power emanating from them was daunting. Fortunately, the mages were fighting on their side and the Blazewings were the ones copping their wrath.
As she reached back into her dwindling supply of arrows, Daine spared a quick glance around, searching out her friends. A clash of steel and an ire- filled war cry alerted her to Alanna's presence. The Lioness was trapped in combat with two of the merciless creatures, her expression one of annoyance rather than fear. Close by, Jardan, Sir Tremain, King Benjamin and Queen Lijana also wielded their swords, faces set in ferocious lines. Dodging a vicious snap of teeth by her shoulder, Daine allowed herself a small smile. No fretting or surrender from the Sailans, then. Even Prince Braydon and Sir Renwald had deigned to enter the skirmishing, brandishing their weapons with surprising competence.
Her temper focused on a gallingly tenacious beast, Daine failed to notice the glinting eyes that fixed on her from above, their cruel gleam flaring with hunger.
The largest of the Blazewing pack jackknifed with staggering speed, talons extended, teeth aching to bite. Head inclined toward her last opponent's carcass, Daine looked up out of pure instinct. Immediately, her hand scrabbled for an arrow. Her quiver was empty. Frantically, she looked around, searching for a sword, a knife, a large rock if need be, anything to defend herself. There was nothing. Her Ma would have had a bar of lye soap in her mouth if she'd heard the curses tumbling from her lips, Daine thought numbly. With a muffled shriek, she ducked the Blazewing's grasp, wind rushing past her as its heavy body dove. Falling across the victim of her previous shot, she grabbed the arrow with both hands, pulling at it frenetically. It held, lodged on gods knew what. As heat blasted across her skin, she turned with hateful anticipation, waiting to feel the cut of fang and claw.
An outstretched limb swiped at her throat with deadly aim - just as strong hands wrapped around her arms, hauling her bodily out of its path. She stumbled back against Jardan, latching onto him instinctively as they tumbled to the ground. A searing sound struck the air as one molten wing scraped along the other wild mage's arm. He swore loudly, grasping at his burnt flesh. Rolling off him, Daine scrambled to her feet first, head pounding, muscles aching. Only two of the pieces of filth were left: her adversary and another, slightly smaller, creature that was effortlessly evading slaughter. As the mammoth beast rounded above her again, mad eyes transfixed by her throat, she looked around once more.
"Daine!"
Alanna's voice cut the tension sharply, and Daine spun to face her. The Lioness had seized hold of an abandoned sword, and was wrenching it from the corpse of a Blazewing. With all the strength she had left, she threw it, dagger-style, in Daine's direction. The fact that it reached Daine was astonishing. The fact that she actually managed to catch it without slicing her hand off at the wrist was nothing short of amazing. As soon as her fingers closed around it, Daine swung it upward with as much force as she could muster. The blade struck the Blazewing in its brawny chest and ruptured forward, splitting the monster clear in two. More of the nauseating bile spewed forth, coating both Daine and the grass in sticky mage-cursed blood.
Taking a few trembling steps back, she almost tread on Jardan as he clambered to his feet. What happened next would later be a blur to Daine. She was turning to locate the final Blazewing when something struck her forcibly on her already wounded skull. Head snapping forward, pain seemed to explode through her brain and out her eyes. She fell forward, hands refusing to cooperate in catching her fall. As she hit the ground, she twisted her face to the side, in a motion she would always regret. As it was, she ended up with a perfectly clear view of the rest of the company, scattered in various states of injury around the plain. All heads turned toward her prostrate form, giving the last remaining Blazewing the opportunity it needed. It aimed for the closest target, and struck. A hoarse cry of warning erupted from Daine's lips, too late, as razor-sharp claws stabbed into Sir Tremain's throat, and ripped. He stumbled back, tripping, falling. The Blazewing continued its assault, tearing at his armour, through it, into his chest.
Jardan was the first to react. His footsteps thundered past her, his anguished cry renting the air. Reaching the beast, he dove for it with sword and fist, stabbing relentlessly in a catharsis of fury and grief. Finally, they were both still, the Blazewing's body as mutilated as its victim's. There was a momentary silence – a terrible, terrible silence – and Daine tried to raise her head, to no avail. Her body wouldn't respond. In a noise that she would never forget, a scream ripped the air, and there was motion. She could feel it reverberating through the ground. A figure dashed into the fog of her vision, and flung itself down beside Sir Tremain's lifeless body.
Someone was kneeling beside Daine and stroking large, shaking hands over her. Numair. She could hear him, as if from a great distance, speaking frantically, but her attention was on the distraught figure and slain warrior. She recognized Lady Madelyn Balharran, the Champion's likable young wife, as the woman clutched at her husband with desperate fists, pulling at him, urging him. Her devastated keening cries were a sound more soul-destroying than the wails of the Blazewings. She hunched over, and Daine focused on the curve of her stomach – swollen and ripe with child. It was the last thing she saw before the darkness encroached.