Disclaimer: Anything that you recognise from the Tamora Pierce books belongs to her.
A/N: Lol, ok, so it seems no one has a problem with the longer chapters. I didn't want them to become tedious or anything. This one is a similar length to the last one, but from now on, they'll probably be a bit shorter, sorry. It just makes it easier to update, timewise.
Thank you heaps to the people who reviewed the last chapter: AnnaWeb, Gladiel, Elementalmoon, DramaQn621, Equestrian-babe101, dream of falling, Fantasizing-Lady-Knight, Lady Aioria, Narm's Briton 44, Hidden Relevance, spanielgirl, DestinyHunter, Whisper, Ami4, Aindel S. Druida, KelDomForever, alianne of conte, asdf, surfergurl16, cutwing, Stefen and Girlfromtheshadows. I really hope I got everyone there! If not, I'm sorry and I did appreciate your review, despite not acknowledging you! Girlfromtheshadows and KelDomForever, I loved reading your fics.
Some fluff in this chapter, and more to come. :)
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"I can't believe I'm going down into the catacombs wearing a blanket. An extremely ill-fitting blanket."
Jardan's mutter floated up to Daine over the rumbling clamour. Looking awkwardly over her shoulder, she peered down at him.
"Why couldn't we shape-shift exactly?"
They were descending roughly etched steps in a very narrow, very dank tunnel and every time her hands slipped on loose shale, she regretted leaving her warm bed – and warmer love – even more. Adventure or no, important or otherwise, clambering about an underground graveyard in the small hours of the morn was not her idea of an enjoyable time.
"I don't think it would be a good idea. Trust me." Jardan lost his grip, slid a few muddy yards, and cursed loudly.
"Trust you," Daine repeated musingly. "Yes..."
She heard a faint thud as Jardan's feet finally hit solid ground. Then strong hands clasped her ankles, guiding her over the last rungs. She jumped down, straightened, and peered into the gloom. Faint light still touched the walls, but its vivid intensity had dwindled. If only that infernal roar would do the same, she thought irritably, rubbing one ear.
Then the odor hit, and all other annoyances vanished.
"Goddess...what is that stench?"
White teeth flashed briefly as her companion grinned. "That, milady, is the alluring scent of rotting bodies."
Coughing out the putrid air, Daine wondered where he found the gall to be amused. Mithros, she could barely breathe!
"Aren't they buried?" she gasped out, squinting around warily.
Jardan, brows knit, tightened his scant covering once more. Despite his previous nonchalance, he looked a little...green. "There was civil warfare in the Isles about ten years ago. I think that's the last time the catacombs were used. The older graves are covered, but there were so many losses that the warriors just stacked corpses and boarded up the entrance. You've been warned."
"Wondrous," she mumbled ironically.
Straining to see clearly, he moved in a slow circle. "Here!" he spoke up at last, stepping forward to touch a smooth panel in the rock wall. Carefully running large palms over the beam, he searched for fastenings.
"Is it charmed?" Daine asked, frowning as the other mage began to back up.
Suddenly he launched forward, slamming one muscular shoulder into the barrier. The wood shattered and gave way, and Jardan disappeared into the cavity.
"Apparently not," she conceded, following gingerly.
Beyond the blockade, the noise was more forceful - as, unfortunately, was the smell.
Face scrunched up, Daine gazed about in horrified fascination. She always found grave-sites a little eerie, but the catacombs were fair sinister. Dark and damp, the dripping recesses housed the dead, yet there was a sense of something oddly alive...
Jardan's voice broke into her apprehensive thoughts. "Feel like taking another boat ride?"
Turning questioningly, speech stumbled in her throat. Then she groaned. A tapered canal led out of their cavern, murky surface cradling a moored vessel.
Well. "Vessel" might be too optimistic a description.
She looked closer.
"That isn't a boat," she contradicted flatly. "It looks like half an ale barrel."
Kneeling by the floating keg, Jardan cast a doubtful look over its interior. "It is. I think it'll stay afloat. But I wouldn't want to gamble on that." He shrugged. "Still, we don't have a choice; there's no other way in. And I want to know what's going on down here. If it's something to do with the Blazewings, it's the only lead we have and I need to know."
The simple truth behind his words conquered any objections Daine might have had.
Nodding, she moved behind him, wondering if it was possible to embark without actually touching the mortal realm's most revolting water.
At the same time, Jardan stood and swung around. A haze passed Daine's vision, pain burst in her left eye and she stumbled back. Plastering one hand to her face, she couldn't restrain an aggrieved cry.
"Shakith! Sorry, Daine! Are you alright?"
Blinking through rapidly streaming lashes, she nodded jerkily. "Yes. Fine. Did you just hit me?" she asked belatedly.
"Your eye got in the way of my elbow. Sorry."
He was clutching her arms with both hands, peering worriedly into her face.
Daine gently disengaged his hold and swiped a sleeve over her wet cheek. "I've had much worse. I'll survive," she assured him.
"Sure?"
He still looked aghast, she realized. Apparently Jardan didn't make a habit of striking women.
"Yes. Let's go." She nodded at him reassuringly, ignoring the sting and spill of fresh tears.
Surging forward, she tried to appear purposeful and confident. Her clumsy scramble into the barrel marred the effect somewhat. It rocked violently at her efforts and she bit her lip. Gods, she detested water-travel. In that respect, she'd discovered a new kinship with Alanna.
Jardan's expression was a blend of curiosity, fear and residual concern. Darting a last glance her way, he crouched and slid into the craft. Much more gracefully than she had done so, Daine noted. Uncomfortably folding and unfolding long legs, he untied the mooring rope and pushed off from the side.
They lurched onward with a swift jolt, and Daine grabbed for the nearest hold.
Which happened to be a sturdy male torso.
"Sorry," she apologized, releasing him quickly.
"Better that than have you falling over the side," he returned. "I don't want to know what's in this water." Then he turned to look at her slyly. "Besides, I know you can't keep your hands off me. Far be it for me to deny you the pleasure."
She rolled her eyes, not gracing that with a reply.
The current pushed them rapidly on, hurtling into the catacombs' depths. They passed through a tunnel, and Daine watched as pinpoints of colour pierced the darkness. She tried to sit still, fists tightly clenched, but couldn't cease fidgeting. The wood beneath her flesh felt thin and flimsy, creaking and swaying with the water's rhythm. And her eye hurt.
'I wish Numair was here.' The irrational words circled her consciousness over and over.
Another thought broke through.
"How are we going to get back out?" she asked, alarmed.
Jardan's voice floated back, wraithlike, in the void.
"The boat system is designed to complete a circuit. Once we get out, it'll come back around eventually."
She was sure that the words "I hope" lingered in the air.
The tunnel ended abruptly, startling them both as the world exploded into light. She flung up a hand against the sudden onslaught of luster and colour. Luminous shades lit dark crevasses and craggy alcoves, violently eclipsing what had come before. The thunderous braying also rose in pitch, wailing like an aggravated Siren.
Jardan's hand shot out, gripping the embankment and wrenching them to a halt. His face was inclined toward her, lips moving, but she couldn't hear a word. Eventually, frustrated, he pointed urgently. Shifting to see, she followed his gaze and her uninjured eye narrowed speculatively.
Set into the rock face, a number of openings led into snaking warrens. Their route was clear - the entrance farthest to the left was ardently aglow with magic, almost painfully blinding.
Jardan strained to steady the barrel as she climbed out.
And promptly tripped over a dislocated skeleton.
"Odds bobs!"
"Daine."
His voice, edgy and labored, cut across the din.
Muttering an apology, she knelt to help him, seizing the wooden planks and clutching hard against the water's tug. He lunged out, pushing away from the base. The action tore the "boat" from Daine's grasp; the current whisking it victoriously away.
The momentum almost did the same with Jardan's blanket and he grasped it hastily, swearing.
"If Numair were here, he could scry for mage-magic," she murmured, eying the opening guardedly.
He shot her a look, waving a hand over his bare chest. "If Salmalin was here, I'd no doubt have a bloodied nose by now."
Bowed against the glare, they picked their way through haphazardly scattered bones toward the blazing threshold.
Inside, they hadn't gone more than a few yards when Jardan stopped, head cocked.
She looked at him enquiringly.
"What is it?"
The question was nothing short of a bellow. The noise in the caverns defied mortal belief.
"Take my hand."
His response was unexpected and Daine glared suspiciously.
"Take it!"
There was no mistaking the urgency this time. Frowning, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his. They were warm, blunt and surprisingly reassuring.
The further they traveled, the faster Jardan walked. The passageway was constricted and winding, labyrinth-like, yet his stride never faltered. In contrast, Daine's trepidation grew with each passing step.
Yet she was convinced that whatever lay ahead related to the Blazewings, and shared his resolve to uncover it.
Finally, the trail widened and a sharp turn emerged ahead, new sounds drifting from the chamber beyond. Deep resonant tones – those of a human male – mingled melodiously with the heavy rumble.
Unaware of Jardan's hesitation, she marched forward, fired with new determination.
Almost instantly, bolts of power struck her like a physical blow. Pain hummed through her head, spindled around and exploded in screaming agony.
It was brutally familiar.
Recognizing the signature of the Blazewings at once, her rebuttal was instinctive. She delved within, fighting viciously against the torturous intrusion. Heavy force flowed through Jardan's palm, and tendrils of their wild magic wove and welded together. The additional strength was like a rejuvenating kick, and Daine's muscles slowly relaxed. Able to breathe easily once more, she sent the mage a grateful look.
Pulling her close to his side, Jardan edged her behind him as they crept forward. She didn't appreciate the chivalrous gesture and tried to nudge him out of the way. Resolute, he swatted her back again, face set like gouged stone.
The absurdity of their churlish behaviour hit them both at the same time. Exchanging rueful glances, they crept – together - to peer silently around the angled wall.
Daine crouched, craned her neck - and the air hitched in her lungs. Her view was partially obscured by the partition but, regardless, she could clearly see the figure standing within.
Hands rigid at his sides, fingers curled into hooked claws, the man's head was tilted toward the ceiling, the tendons in his throat strained and quivering. White beams sliced through his body, bouncing around the alcove and off a multitude of colored orbs. Reflecting their sheen, the memorably ashen shade of his Gift was mottled, distorted. Magically amplified, jaw- jarringly potent, the illusive power skated across the faces of the watching spies and slunk throughout the mountain.
The mage's limbs shook ferociously as power continued to dissect him, entwine him, infuse him. His lips caressed the words of a chant; his very skin seemed to crawl with the pulse of the incantation.
Recognition could not come without betrayal. It burned like dragon fire, and Daine could only envisage how Jardan must be feeling. The traitor before them was the root of his suffering, the means of his loss.
He was his friend.
Daionarus.
Rage pooled in her belly and leached into her heart. She couldn't restrain an animalistic growl, the warning purr of a predator. Still stooped on the ground, she tensed, ready to pounce, attack, avenge.
Jardan had to band both arms across her chest to hold her back.
"Leave off!" she hissed, shoving at him. "Don't you understand? He's responsible for all of this! We have to go in there!"
"No. We don't." He was rigidly white, eyes huge and black. Desolate.
"Why not?" she burst out, yanking away.
"Because we'll die!"
He was already hauling her back the way they'd come, but the tormented reply burst free and echoed cruelly.
They froze.
Slowly, hideously so, Daine ventured a peek at Daionarus.
Her worst fears were confirmed. Undulating with his multihued Gift, the Elder had pivoted to stare in their direction.
Then, for the first time, she noticed.
His imperial face – so incongruously noble – was absent of the patches, the dense strips that screened his supposedly sightless eyes.
Those soulless cavities bored into her, literally ablaze. Raging flames billowed from cold ebony. The molten fire seemed to burn from within, twisting in feverish madness.
The eyes of a Blazewing.
Chilled, as if her skin were latticed in ice, Daine dropped a hand to her chest, tracing the Sign against evil.
Whether Daionarus saw them or not, she didn't know, but Jardan didn't leave her time to ponder. Fingers like an iron manacle about her wrist, he took off running, dragging her behind.
"What are we going to do?" she panted, trying not to look back. Just the thought of Daionarus following was enough to quicken her legs.
"Tell the king," he threw over his shoulder. "And see if he believes me."
"Why wouldn't he?"
"Oh, come on, Daine. Accusing Raillenden's Elder? It'll look like a pretty poor attempt at passing blame."
She ran up alongside him, shaking her head. "They'll know you wouldn't lie. Especially not about this. Besides," she added as an afterthought, "I saw him as well."
Gods, had she ever. A shiver wrapped her spine.
They rounded a last corner and left the spindling burrow, dodging bodies of the long-fallen, finally coming to a halt beside the canal.
The water was clear, no dilapidated ale keg in sight. Daine waited impatiently, hands twisting together. She was completely thrown; the last few minutes seemed hazy, insubstantial. A nightmare.
Anger mingled with maudlin emotion. She was dangerously near tears, and consequently cross with herself. If there was ever a time not to behave like a weepy fool! But she felt fair wretched for Jardan and, as much as she was growing to value the wild mage, yearned for Numair. It felt strange to travel anywhere without him. He was so reassuring when things went bad; even if he had no idea what to do, he pretended for her sake. And it helped. It did.
Nerves scrabbling at her gut, she moved to Jardan's side, searching his face. Confusion and shock blurred his features, and her heart contracted. She reached for his hand again, squeezing tight. Looking down at her, he tried to smile.
She didn't know what to say, but was rescued by the arrival of the barrel. It swerved out of the tunnel, moving quickly, as if determined to pass by unhindered. Dropping her fingers, Jardan lunged for it, grappling for a secure hold. Hauling it to a relative stand- still, he motioned for her to get in. She did so, as fast as her limbs could react. This time, she felt a whole new affinity for the dratted thing. If it got them out of this gods-abandoned place, she'd even embrace it.
Jardan's hasty leap almost toppled him over the side, but he managed to right both himself and the skimpy rug before they slid into the next tunnel. Knuckles pressed against the wood, Daine leaned back, sitting tautly. She wasn't interested in the unfamiliar burial chambers that flashed by, but tried to remain alert, watching for the original cavern and its passage back to Jardan and Kyria's cave.
Perhaps ten minutes later, they shot through a rough fissure and simultaneously, gratefully, spotted the mooring post and dangling rope. Daine was already halfway onto the bank when Jardan snatched the line, jerking them to anchor. She slithered out on her belly, stumbling to her knees and then tottering to her none-too-steady feet. Spinning back, she extended a hand to him. He shot her an ironic look, before grasping it and allowing her to pull him clear.
Scurrying back through the splintered barricade, his fervor to return to the palace peaked and he jostled her impatiently up the ancient steps and out of the cave.
Hitting cold fresh air, however, he stopped, scowling in dismay. Daine skidded at his side, gulping in cool breaths, feeling reality take hold. Her prior fury was returning with a vengeance. She only had to imagine Sir Tremain's death cries, his wife's tears and Jardan's face earlier, and her fingers itched to get at Daionarus.
The weather endorsed her mood. Although it had to be near morning, the storm still raged on and the sky lay bloated and black with clouds. Thunder shook the peaks again, and Jardan shook his head.
"It's too dangerous to go up in this," he decided, and Daine nodded. She was well aware of the dangers of flying in lightning, having experienced a near-miss in Tortall the year before. Numair's head had just about imploded with wrath, she remembered.
"Can we go by land?" she asked, searching for possible paths.
He considered, then nodded. "It'll take a few more hours, but it's the safest way in these conditions."
Almost before he'd finished speaking, he jumped forward, shape-shifting into a sturdy mountain goat.
Daine shrugged. It made sense.
Concentrating her powers, she exchanged pink skin for coarse hair and human bones for those of the more sure-footed four-legger. Carefully picking her way down the uneven slope, she hurried after his rapidly disappearing form.
Upon reaching the marshlands, she didn't need to take his cue. Acting on common sense, she morphed again. Legs extended, became muscled, sleeker. Body strengthened and swelled; face stretched and softened. Then, whickering gently, Daine's mare surged after Jardan's stallion.
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Several hours later, when they reached the palace, the squalling tempest had thrown down arms. Only a light drizzle lingered, padding against Azassandra's ravaged violets. Withers coated in mud, the wild mages galloped through the gates – which were, unusually, unguarded – and pawed to a snorting stop in the courtyard.
Jardan tossed his head at Daine. 'Fly up to your chamber and dress. I'll meet you in the king's quarters in five minutes, alright?'
She ducked her own in affirmative, then, rearing up on her hind legs, changed into sparrowhawk form and launched into the sky. Ruffling dirty feathers, she flapped higher and tried to orientate her exhausted brain with the building's layout. Locating her window, and fervently hoping that Numair would still be asleep, Daine spiraled toward it. Without bothering to slow her speed, she arrowed through the casement and hurriedly altered back to human-born form.
Anxiety made her clumsy and, her ankle rolling, she stumbled. Cursing loudly, she caught her balance and looked around, face falling. Although she'd expected it, she was still disappointed to find the room empty. The covers were carelessly bunched on the bed, half-slipping to the floor, as if someone had left it hastily.
Daine peered down at herself and winced. She was fair filthy. Still, there would be time to bathe later. Slapping dry dirt from her calves, she scrabbled for a clean shirt. As she fastened the last buttonhole and smoothed it into crisp breeches, it occurred to her that it was far too big and, most likely, Numair's, but no matter. No one would be concerned with her appearance when they heard of the cave-dweller.
Swinging out the door, she shoved it closed and walked down the hallway. Then she realized that nobody was around – strange – to see her attempt at ladylike behaviour and broke into a run.
She reached the corridor that led to the royal chambers and slowed. Rounding the corner, she almost bumped into a now-clothed Jardan. He was frowning, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
Daine gestured onward. "Shall we?" she asked grimly.
He shook his head in worried puzzlement. "I just had a look. There's no one there. In fact, there's no one anywhere."
Apparently solely to discredit his statement, the door behind him was flung open and a very young page sprinted out.
Jardan grabbed the fleeing youngster by the collar, near lifting him from his feet.
"Tammus," he exclaimed, taken aback. "What's the matter?"
The boy, deathly pale, was gaping as if the wild mage were a Midsummer wraith. Goggling, he opened his mouth a time or two, but nothing emerged bar a series of squeaks.
Face wrought with concern now, Jardan set him gently on his feet and, casting a speaking glance at Daine, yanked the door open.
Tammus found his voice most impressively then and took off, bellowing loud enough to wake the gods.
Daine, startled, watched him go, then realized that Jardan had already disappeared through the opening and hurried to follow.
She found herself in a shorter corridor, heavy wooden doors marking the end.
"What's through there?" she asked Jardan, catching up before he could pull them open.
His mouth was set in forbidding lines.
"This is Daionarus' study," he replied, then grasped both handles and hauled the doors back with a bang.
The spacious room within was full to bursting with people, some of whom looked horrified, while others whispered frantically. Several, Daine noticed with a shock, had even swooned.
More than one head turned at their entrance, and a relieved voice cried out.
"Oh, thank the gods! They're back!"
A tall figure instantly separated himself from the mumbling crowd, and she focused on the utterly furious face of her lover.
Numair reached her in two long strides, glowering murderously.
Daine, anticipating a scolding, immediately began to apologize, tripping over her fast explanations.
The mage glared silently down for a moment, long frame held stiffly.
Then, cursing volubly, he reached out and yanked her into shaking arms. One hand slipped into her hair, winding tight. Engulfed by his warmth and scent, the ridiculous tears rushed back to Daine's lashes and she nestled closer, burrowing her face into his neck. She could feel his heart fair thudding against her cheek, much too fast.
"If I weren't so glad to see you, magelet," he muttered fiercely into her ear, "I'd flog you."
She tightened her grip, willing her knees to quit their trembling. Numair smoothed her hair back, trailing his fingers down her jaw.
"If you ever take off like that again..." he warned, muscles still tense.
"I won't. I'm sorry, Numair, I didn't want to worry you." She tilted her head back a little. "I love you," she told him softly, not wanting flapping ears to listen.
"And I love you, but don't think you're going to get around me like that," he informed her crossly. Nevertheless, his expression softened. "Are you hurt?" he asked, pulling back to see for himself.
"No..." she started to deny, but trailed off as his brows snapped together with concern.
"What happened to your eye?" he exclaimed, touching the swelling gently.
Daine groaned; with all that'd happened, she'd completely forgotten. It was probably black and blue now.
"Uh, that was my fault," Jardan's voice spoke up. He was standing near Azassandra, watching them impatiently. "Sorry."
"You hit her?" Numair's grip bit into Daine's shoulders as he turned his fury on the other man.
"It was an accident," she reassured him hastily. "We were about to get in the boat...well, ale barrel, and - "
"Ale barrel?" chorused numerous voices in confusion.
Jardan moved before the king, fists clenched. "We have news, your Majesty," he said dismally. "About Daionarus."
To the surprise of both wild mages, King Benjamin nodded roughly. "You've heard then?" he questioned them.
They exchanged wary glances.
"Heard...what?" Jardan asked slowly.
The king began to reply, then gave up and gestured silently back, beyond the throng of arms and legs and chattering tongues.
Curious, apprehensive, Daine reluctantly left Numair's hold and edged forward to Jardan's side, peering over the Elder's solid wooden desk.
Her eyes widened and words dried up in her mouth.
The reason for Tammus' hysteria became all too clear.
Sprawled lifelessly on the floor was a body. A long, long dead body. Flesh festered and disintegrated before their horrified gaze, slipping from aged bones and disappearing into dust. The rancid corpse was decaying as they watched.
Features were already lost, rotting quickly as if nature had been curbed and was now eager to complete its task.
But it was, with no doubt whatsoever, Daionarus.
Jerking to look at Jardan, Daine's mind whirled, searching for a logical explanation.
She couldn't find one.
And absolutely shared his first reaction.
"What in Chaos is going on around here?"