Disclaimer: Anything that you recognise from the Tamora Pierce books belongs to her.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been sticking with this story, and especially for the reviews. The advice is great, and lots of them have been really encouraging. Longer chapter this time. If anyone isn't a member of The Dancing Dove, I recommend going to have a look. (URL on my profile, if anyone's interested). I just joined, and it's great. Lots of D/N obsessed people and links to great fanfics.
Had she been in human form, Daine would have been groaning aloud by now. As it was, she settled for a series of annoyed trills. After following Jardan's wildly weaving shape for nigh on an hour, she was beginning to doubt that he had any particular destination in mind, at all. Rather, he seemed content to risk life and wing by gallivanting about the sky in a manner that, if she didn't know how upset he must be, would seem almost playful.
A blur barrel-rolled directly in her path, and Daine swooped awkwardly to one side with a silent curse. Night-flying could be fair soothing on a troubled mind, she knew that from experience, but she wasn't quite so rapt about it in the middle of a thunderstorm. Her curiosity over Jardan's behaviour had, as water continued to pelt her drenched body, rapidly denigrated into shivering misery.
It didn't help that he seemed determined to ignore her presence. He'd offered one withering glare through beady eyes, before firmly rebuffing each of her attempts at conversation. Finally, cold and irritated, she'd retreated into a brooding silence. If he was set on sulking, she thought she might as well join him.
Ducking her head against the onslaught of wind, she sighed inwardly. Hopefully Numair would sleep until dawn. She knew how worried he'd be, should he wake to find her gone. And he'd be a lot more than worried, she admitted with a flicker of unease, if he discovered where she'd gone.
Another lightning fork shattered the skyline, briefly blinding Daine to her surroundings. When her vision cleared once more, Jardan was gone. Taken aback, she soared in a slow scrutinizing circle, searching out the errant falcon. When she spotted nothing more than rain and mist, an aggravated screech tore free of her lungs.
She was just contemplating giving up on the moody mage and heading back to Numair's warm arms – which seemed more inviting with each passing, dripping second – when Daine noticed a wink of movement far below.
Without hesitation, she dove after Jardan's gliding form.
As she emerged from heavy cloud, it struck her that the terrain had changed radically. Far from the lush greenery of the palace grounds, the landscape before her was craggy and dark. Marshlands oozed into black rock and barren mountains. The air was sharp – so crisp that even light breaths seemed to rupture. The whole scene was oddly still and deserted; try as she might, she couldn't discern voices of the People. It was disconcerting, and she fought the urge to flee.
Gaze darting to the right, Daine caught sight of Jardan's vanishing feathers as he merged into the shadows of an overhanging crag. She flapped cautiously closer, scanning the area for danger. He had disappeared through the entrance of a murky cavern, and she wasn't particularly enthusiastic about following. Not that she suspected him of anything wicked, but it was chilling enough out of doors without venturing into strange spaces.
A flicker of amusement penetrated Daine's mind. She'd grasped at least one of Numair's early lectures on keeping safe, then. Still, that particular homily – about steering clear of places where rats wouldn't care to venture – was going to have pass unheeded. She refused to leave Jardan, alone and hurting, in some dank cave.
Bolstering her spirits, she sailed into the nook's yawning mouth and, on finding the space empty, followed a winding passage. Eventually she alighted on a jutting ledge, and looked around in surprise. Contrary to expectations, the belly of the mountain was warm and snug. Almost...homey, actually.
Further perusal heightened her wonder. Clearly Jardan – or someone – made a practice of coming here. Eyes flickering against the darkness, Daine noted an unlit torch propped against protruding rock. A pile of rugs was heaped in one corner, and a thick layer of straw covered the floor invitingly.
She began to feel a little guilty. Obviously this was Jardan's place of solitude and, rather than a concerned friend, she felt like an intruder. She tensed, ready to leave her perch.
"Going somewhere?"
She started, wings jerking, as Jardan strolled from behind a stone panel.
The fact that he had resumed human form registered first. The realization of how much – or rather, how little – he was wearing closely followed.
Muscles played across his bare chest as he tightened the knot of a blanket. The rough wool rested low on lean hips, and appeared in peril of slipping at one swift movement. Daine looked quickly away, embarrassed.
"Stop fearing for your virtue. I'm far too wet and miserable to ravish priggish wild mages just now. Besides, it might be rather uncomfortable with your talons in the way."
Ignoring that, she moved to meet his steady gaze. The laconic drawling voice sounded surprisingly normal. Mocking and derisive, of course, but that was common enough for Jardan. In fact, he appeared to be completely composed. Hardly the devastated, angry wreck she'd dreaded finding.
'Are you alright?' she asked, searching his face with concerned eyes.
He snorted loudly in reply. "Asking after my welfare before the interrogation begins? Very heart-warming."
'Interrogation?' Daine repeated, genuinely puzzled.
"You hoped to catch me in the act, yes? Assembling Blazewings, dicing flesh, swigging blood, generally reveling in my evilness?"
She scowled and waved a wing in dismissal. 'Don't be a half-wit, Jardan. Are you alright or not?'
Impatience was leaking into her tone, rapidly replacing concern.
"Did the king send you?"
'Rather swelled in our own importance, aren't we?' she retorted. 'I was still awake, and I saw you, and I was worried. That's all. I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have bothered.'
She waited for a sarcastic response and, when none was forthcoming, turned to face him again.
He was looking at her strangely.
"You really came after me because you were...worried?"
Skepticism liberally laced his voice.
'Believe me, it seems astonishing to me too now,' Daine snapped back, peevishly ruffling her feathers.
There was a brief silence, then, in a slightly altered timbre, Jardan quietly spoke again. "There's a robe behind that rock over there. It used to fit me, but it's much too small now. You can change into it if you like. Get warm."
A little disconcerted by the cave's improbably domestic atmosphere, she hesitated.
The other mage rolled his eyes. "You think I have a high opinion of myself?" he taunted, sounding much more his usual sardonic self. "I promise, I won't salivate with lust at the sight of your bare feet."
Shooting him the vilest look she could manage, Daine conceded and flitted behind the panel. The robe sailed in her wake, almost smothering her in its thickly woven folds. In the flash of a second, feathered body became long bare limbs, and she bent, naked, to scoop the mantle from the ground. Shaking it free of straw, she drew it around her shaking figure. Although it was infinitely warmer inside than out, it was still no place for frolicking about in the buff.
Stepping out from her rocky shelter, she raised an eyebrow at Jardan. He was kneeling on the floor, using a large flat stone to strike sparks off the wall. Daine watched, interested, as he managed to set a small pile of straw aflame and use it to light the wall-torch.
"It's at times like these," he commented, stretching, "That it would be useful to have the Gift."
She nodded appreciably, looking around with renewed curiosity.
"You're well set up here," she remarked, then cast him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding."
One shoulder lifted almost carelessly. "I haven't been here for years." He paused. "Four, actually."
Daine caught on instantly and stared at him, horrified. "You mean this was a special place for you and Kyria? Jardan, I'm sorry...I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry."
He shook his head, dismissing her remorse. "I'm not going to break down in tears because you're standing here, and not her. Maybe I would have been such a sentimental fool once, but not now."
The words of an embittered lover; he uttered them almost peacefully. That was perhaps what bothered Daine the most.
"Tell me about her?"
The request was heart-felt and instinctive. She winced as soon as it left her lips, anticipating a negative response, but couldn't regret asking. Her desire to know his past had nothing to do with a hunger for gossip, and everything to do with a need to understand him better.
Lowering himself slowly back to the ground, Jardan leaned against a wall. A heavy silence fell, and Daine carefully crouched also, resting on her haunches and watching his face.
Finally, he drew in a deep breath and let it out in a painful, gusty sigh. His eyes were fixed on the straw-strewn floor.
"We met when we were fifteen. I lived in the palace, and she worked for a farmer. He gave her food and board in return for help with the milking."
"What about her parents? And yours?" Daine asked quietly, reluctant to pry.
"Kyria was a foundling child. She grew up being passed around from family to family. Either nobody knew of her parents' identity, or they weren't prepared to tell. The community decided to raise her collectively. They all loved her. She...was easy to love." He twirled a thistle between long fingers, frowning a little. "I was born in Raillenden, at an estate near the palace. My Da...he was a powerful mage. His Gift was notable and he wasn't too impressed being saddled with an ordinary son. Wild magic wasn't recognized, so I was just...odd. Preferring the company of animals to people."
She nodded unconsciously. Gods knew, she could understand that kind of isolation.
"I was an embarrassment to him," Jardan continued, without any evident regret or blame. "Eventually he'd had enough."
"What do you mean, 'he'd had enough'?" she asked, brow creased.
His lips quirked humorlessly. "He secured passage on a ship out of Raillenden and departed for new horizons. Better and grander things."
"He just...abandoned you there?"
"Not entirely. He left me on the doorstep of the palace."
Daine was outraged. "And never came back? Or left word? Nothing?"
"Well, to be fair to the old man, he did leave a note pinned to my shirt."
"That said what?"
"Sell him for war rations."
"What?"
Jardan cracked a smile. "Jesting. I don't know. Requesting that they take me in, I suppose. My father was an advisor to King Benjamin. He knew I'd be well taken care of. It wasn't complete desertion."
"Yes, it was," she said bluntly. "How old were you?"
"Six."
Daine shook her head. "Bastard."
He laughed out loud this time, creases of amusement lighting his face. "Alright, I confess my thoughts have often taken a similar path."
"What about your Ma?" she asked, an image of Sarra's gentle face fixed in her mind. "Why didn't she look after you?"
"She died when I was a few months old. Infection from the birthing, I think."
"Maybe your father was resentful about his lost love, and punished you for it," Daine suggested, rather doubtfully.
"The only thing my Da loved was his tankard of ale." Jardan shook his head. "I doubt if he mourned her for long. He was very popular with the ladies of court."
Her eyes rolled in irritation. "Men."
"Yes, we're a revolting bunch," he agreed lightly.
"So after he left, you moved into the palace."
"The king and queen never hesitated in taking me in. They're good people." For the first time, a shadow touched his expression. Then he carefully resumed the familiar smooth mask. "My first nine years there were pretty uneventful. I spent a lot of time in the stables and the woods. Beating up Braydon when necessary."
She smiled faintly. "I wouldn't blame you if you still did that."
"As much as it pains me to admit it, it's usually best to steer clear of him now. He's turned into a surprisingly capable fighter. All skill and no morals. It's a lethal combination."
At her look of surprise, he nodded ruefully. "Thought he was just a pampered prince? He is, to a large extent, but he's had to compensate for a lack of Gift."
"He doesn't have the Gift?"
"No trace of it whatsoever. The magical sphere still rejoices."
Daine giggled, before regarding him thoughtfully. "Did Kyria have the Gift?"
She wasn't even sure what her motives were in asking, but the question slipped out.
Jardan looked slightly taken aback, then shook his head 'no'. "She didn't have the Gift, wild magic, the Sight. Not that it seemed to bother her in the least. And it was...refreshing, actually, growing close to someone who wasn't preoccupied with their Gift. I'd had enough of ability braggarts at the palace."
Nodding, Daine hesitantly continued: "Where did you two meet?"
She felt like a gossip, but it seemed inexplicably...necessary to ask. As if it would be here in this cave that part of the enigma was revealed or nowhere at all.
Jardan's arms folded - almost instinctively, it seemed – at his chest. She thought she heard a faint curse; then he struggled on. "I was walking near her village one day, when I heard screams. When I went to see what was going on, there was this girl. Two men were holding her arms, and she was struggling."
"So you heroically charged in and thrashed them?" she suggested, settling herself more comfortably. The cavern was dim, and she watched as firelight teased the walls and sparked tiny flames in Jardan's green eyes.
"Of course," he agreed stoutly, as if there were no question about it. "But the men turned out to be the old farmer and his even more elderly brother. And she wasn't struggling. They were trying to teach her how to dance, for the Midsummer ball."
"Jardan!" she exclaimed, biting back a smile.
"It was dusk!" he defended himself. "I didn't see how old they were until...well, they were on the ground. But," he hurried on quickly, seeing her mouth opening again. "I paid for it anyway." He shook his head in admiration. "After she finished walloping me, she practically carried both men into their cottage single-handedly."
Daine laughed. "And you fell in love with her," she guessed.
At Jardan's scornful grunt, she merely smiled, unperturbed.
"Yes, I did," he said finally, self-mockery rife in the words. "I went back to her home every day for a week, until I convinced her to forgive me. It took another three weeks after that before she'd let me court her."
He tossed the mangled thistle back to the straw and rubbed the back of his neck.
"We were together for a year after that. I fell more in love with her every day, and I thought I'd finally found it – whatever it is that we search for in life. I didn't know that much about women." He looked at her wryly. "Still don't. But I'd grown up watching my father with this menagerie of cosseted beauties, and I thought that's what everyone meant by love. Lust, prestige, reputation." He continued to speak, almost babbling. "Kyria just blew every belief I had out of the water. She was this tiny powerhouse who could charm people into doing anything for their own good. And she genuinely seemed to care. It didn't matter if she knew a person, if she liked them or not, she wanted what was best for them. I'd never met anyone like her."
Daine was mesmerized by the animation of his handsome face. For once, Jardan wasn't hiding behind bitterness and disdain, and the effect was striking. She held her breath, not wanting to break the spell – suspecting that if he became aware of his frankness, he would promptly retreat.
"For the first time in my life, it felt as if I had someone who was mine alone." His eyes focused on Daine, and he grinned spontaneously. "Irrational and possessive though that is, I couldn't help feeling that way. But she would have been the first to clobber me if I'd dared say it aloud."
She grinned back. When Jardan smiled – really smiled – it was completely infectious.
"I think I would have liked Kyria," she said truthfully.
He considered her for a moment. "She would have liked you too."
In the next instant, his face began to sober and close off. Daine's belly sank. Having been offered a brief glimpse of what she was convinced was the other wild mage's true nature, it was almost painful to see it snatched back behind barriers.
"It isn't that I believed her to be faultless," he reasoned slowly, "I lived with her; I knew better than anyone her weaknesses. But I thought a quick temper was the worst of Kyria's vices. I didn't realize...There's a small part of every being, no matter how gallant or good or pious they may appear, that's pure malevolent selfishness."
He looked into the fiery torch; eyes tarnished a burnt amber in its glow. Fingers of misgiving began to inch down Daine's throat.
"That seed of maliciousness is present somewhere in all of us," he continued harshly, "And it's that which the Blazewings feed on. If they bite you, their venom takes that evil and carries it throughout. It festers and grows, until the body is nothing more than a useless shell, rotting on the inside." He met Daine's gaze once more, and she flinched in reaction. "The Blazewings attacked on a Midsummer morning, a couple of days before we were to be wed. There weren't many of them – five, no more than six. The fighting only lasted a short time, and there didn't seem to be any casualties." His jaw clenched. "Kyria was bitten by one of the creatures before it died, but she didn't tell anyone. It wasn't a bad wound, and she probably thought nothing of it. It wasn't until three days later that it became brutally apparent to one and all."
"Three days later?" Daine asked, her voice a cracked whisper.
"For three days, the...victim of a Blazewing bite appears as normal. There are no outward signs other than the lesion, and that never shows infection itself. After that, the fall is inevitable."
"Nu- " She cleared her throat. "Numair told me that victims turn on people they love. Did she..."
She couldn't go on. Jardan's laughter was abrasive. "Attempt to kill me? Of course. It wasn't because of any mercy on her part that I survived. Yes, she was particularly delighted to flaunt my love for her. But I wasn't the only object of her attentions, and I fared better than many. Kyria slaughtered almost twenty people before the end."
Daine's face was deathly pale. She wanted to reach out for him, but knew he'd reject any offers of comfort.
"The end? Did someone..."
"No. Eventually the poison loses its potency but the body is too weak to go on. The last ten seconds of the victims' life is the worst." He blanched against an onslaught of memories. "The swine who created the gods-forsaken brutes really outdid themselves there. When the curse wears off completely, the person is themselves again, the way they once were, for just ten seconds before death. Ten miserably long seconds to become aware of what they've done."
She sat frozen, her limbs numb. There was something in his voice, something beyond the devastation of his love...
"Did she...hurt someone you loved?"
He jerked to his feet, obviously restless. A loud stream of expletives left his mouth and he glanced her way angrily. The words came fast and abrupt. "We'd never thought about children. We were only sixteen. I suppose, in the back of my mind, I accepted that they'd come along at some time in the future, but we hadn't made plans. Then the king sent us as part of a diplomatic mission to Aronyll and, while we were there, we found Minna. She was this little scrap in a home for urchins; giant eyes, missing teeth, messy braids. Kyria and Minna took one look at each other, I think, and instantly loved. Before we came home, it was decided that Minna would come to Raillenden in the summer." He bit his lip. "I remember Kyria saying that we none of us had a family, so we would have to band together and create our own."
Daine's lips were pressed together and her gaze fixed on her feet. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest.
"Anyway," Jardan continued painfully. "We got home, and a couple of months later the Blazewing attack happened. And...I forgot. I forgot about Minna. I should have cancelled her passage, but I didn't and a nurse brought her here. To the house I shared with Kyria." Swallowing, he shut tormented eyes. "As soon as I heard she'd arrived, I went there. But I was too late. Kyria had gotten there first."
He looked up, piercing her with one agonized look.
"Minna was beaten and abandoned as a baby. We were the only people in the world she trusted."
Her mouth opened and shut several times. There was absolutely nothing to say. Nothing to ease his pain, to heal the horror.
They sat in torrid silence for a long time.
Finally, Jardan began to slowly stir, moving as if he'd aged fifty years.
"We should head back. It'll be morning soon."
She nodded, head heavy.
"Besides, they've probably organized a mage-hunt by now."
"Nobody actually believes you're responsible, Jardan," Daine said, frowning.
"Want to wager on that?"
"Alright, maybe this'll be fodder for the palace gossips for a day or two, but nobody who cares about you will believe it. Queen Lijana didn't, nor did Azassandra or Daionarus or Lemerus."
"And the king?"
"His friend was just killed. He's emotional. If he was thinking straight, he wouldn't dwell on it for a moment. I think even Isorus just wanted an explanation." Daine paused, not wanting to antagonize him further. "What do you think it was, anyway? An imposter or a simulacrum?"
"Neither. It was me." He intercepted her startled glance, and sighed impatiently. "I was taking samples of flesh and blood to examine them. I was hoping I'd find a clue to the creator."
"And did you?"
"Not as yet."
"And...the blood-drinking?"
She was unable to keep her nose from wrinkling.
"First of all, that's disgusting. And secondly; had you been born in the Isles, you would be well aware that Isorus is a brilliant mage but has appalling eyesight. There's a popular fable about the scar on his neck. Apparently, as a child, he once mistook a griffin for his mother." The wild mage shook his head, irritated. "I was not drinking it. I was looking at it. Possibly the vial was somewhere in the vicinity of my mouth..."
Before Daine could formulate a reply, the solid rock beneath her feet began to tremble slightly, and she looked around in consternation.
"What in the name of Shakith is that..."
All of a sudden, the interior of the cave was thrown into brilliant illumination. Dazzling shades of red, blue and green skidded along rock, ledge and the planes of Jardan's surprised face.
Spinning around, Daine automatically groped for her bow, cursing when she encountered nothing but the coarse material of Jardan's robe.
A roaring sound began, steadily increasing in volume until she was forced to clap both palms over her ears.
"What is it?" she shouted over the monstrous din, unsure if the noise was in the cave or her mind.
One hand pressed to the side of his skull, Jardan pointed to her left. "There!"
She followed the direction of his finger and shifted one hand to shield her eyes against blazing light.
"What's down there?" she yelled.
"It's the way to the catacombs. But it's been closed off for years."
"Sure about that, are you?"
He reached for her arm.
"I guess there's only one way to find out!"