Skysong the Dragonet: Thank you. I'm not going to cover the events of RotG in here, but I am writing about post-RotG in my next fic, A Stepping State, which will probabaly start on sunday or monday. There's more about the red mage in here!
Tanaka Sorano: I'm glad you like it, that was a big compliment, thank you.
Lela-of-Bast: I quite like the idea of terrorising Numair!
Esmerelda 01: Consider I've bowed. Thank you.
Nativewildmage: I loved the quote. It is so appropriate for Daine and Numair.
Kawaiigemini: I'm glad I help your day!
Sonnet Lacewing: Thank you for all your help! I'm sure I'll continue to pester you for advice. I can identify with your son, by the way. A book store has thousands of theme parks for the mind in it.
Moiraine: I am glad I've helped. Good luck with your tests and your concert.
A/N: All characters were invented by TP. The one who was not would probably have been created by her anyway, she just had a better idea. Don't sue.
Chapter 16 – Heroes
Numair left her room to head to the king's study and find out what had happened to Arvid and whom this "master" was. He felt he should have gone there straight away, to see what he needed to do, but for his peace of mind he had needed to be with Daine and Kitten to see that they were both okay.
On walking into the room he discovered the usual participants in meetings like this. Alanna, Harailt, Lindhall, Jon and even George this time. The room quietened as he entered, all eyes focusing in on him.
"How are they both?" George asked him, obviously they had all realised that he had been with Daine.
"Kitten is seeming fine. She'd have found a way to tell us if she wasn't, although it won't do any harm to have Tkaa check on her in the morning. Daine's feeling shaken and guilty," he informed them, wondering about their opinions on the fact that he had obviously been spending time in Daine's room, at night.
"She has no reason whatsoever to feel guilty about anything," Jon said, a menacing tone tainting his voice, as if he was daring anyone to say anything different.
"What's happened with Arvid?" Numair asked.
"He gave in after two minutes of interrogation," Alanna said, in disgust. "A mage he says he didn't know paid him to take Kitten and take her to him."
"Do we have any idea of who the mage might be? I know we questioned whether it might be Inar Hadensra? Numair?" Jon interrupted.
Numair shook his head. "The horses can see in colour, but they find it difficult to actually distinguish red from similar colours. We think it was a brown-red shade, a burgundy and Hadensra's magic is a deep ruby. What else did you find out from him, Alanna?"
"That was as much as we could get out of him between sobs. He's now very shaken and worried, and every time we question him further he breaks down." She replied.
"Did you check for a gagging spell?" Numair asked hurriedly. "Which ever mage it was may have spelled him so that cries when he is pressed to give information. It'll make what he says incoherent."
Alanna shook her head. "I didn't think of doing that. Arvid is not an intelligent man, I took it as being his true reaction."
"What cell is he being held in?" Numair pressed.
"Number five, I think…"
Numair stood up and rushed out, ignoring the calls behind him telling him to wait. He practically jumped the whole of the staircase down to the cells, desperate to get hold of the mage who had caused Daine such anguish.
He forced the door open with a blaze of black light and pushed Arvid onto the wall. Searching him with his gift, he found what he had suspected; a pocket of burgundy magic containing a gagging spell. It was the work of seconds to undo it, barely concealed and poor quality, a spell that a teenager could muster quite easily.
"Right," Numair began in an icy cold voice. "Which mage paid you to take Skysong? If you tell me quickly I might not hurt you."
Arvid shuddered, visibly afraid of the black robe mage whom many rumours had circulated about.
"He…he…he had dark hair and pale white skin. He was so white he looked sick…" Arvid stuttered.
"What colour was his magic?" Numair demanded. From that description it certainly wasn't Inar Hadensra, unless he had taken to dying his hair.
"A mucky red. Like wine," Arvid replied. Numair felt confused. He would have assumed that it would have been a well renowned mage who had attempt to take Kitten, but Arvid's description did not provoke any memories in his mind. He knew that if the mage was Scanran then he might not know of him.
"I'm going to look into your mind and look into your memory of him. This might help to undo some of the distress you've helped cause," quickly Numair placed his hands on the man's head and found the picture he had been looking for. The mage was unrecognisable, totally unknown to Numair. Numair figured that he must just be a fairly poor mage trying to be a hero and help in attacking Tortall. He released his hands from Arvid's head and heard the man sigh with relief.
"Where did he tell you to take the dragon to?" Numair's voice was calm and steady, but still he held Arvid against the cold cell wall.
"There's a cave just outside of Corus, where sometimes a man might take a lady he was courtin'. He told me to go there tonight as it'd be quiet with it being Beltane an' all so people would be out in the fields instead."
"Did he say why he wanted the dragon?" Numair released his grip slightly.
"Only that he had to get her before sundown the day after Beltane if he was to get the best price for her. He said he would be at the cave for me till sunrise. Am I going to be hung, Master Salmalin?" He asked pitifully.
"No, just thrown into the deepest crevasse I can find," Numair muttered, throwing the man down onto the wooden plank that was a bed and leaving the cell, locking the door with a spell that even Alanna would find difficult to undo.
He grabbed Spots from the stables and mounted the horse, anger running through his veins. Daine and Kitten are both fine, why are you acting like this? He reasoned with himself. Because I should have protected them, because Daine was hurt and I need to find a way to make it better, because I love her and I need to prove to myself that I am worthy of loving her. He rode quickly. He knew the cave the man had talked of; a hundred years or so ago it had been said to contain the semi-precious stone smoky quartz, which was rumoured to be useful in the art of seduction. Hopefully he would get there just before the sun rose if he rode fast enough. Telling Spots that this was for Daine he urged his mount to go as fast as possible. After what seemed the longest time he saw the cave in the distance. Halting Spots, he dismounted and cloaked himself with a faint fog that would buy him a minute or two before another mage would pick up on his gift. It was a trick he had often used at the university in Carthak when he had wanted to sneak up on somebody, at that time it had often been Varice.
The cave was barricaded with a thin burgundy veil of magic. Numair carefully tested it with his own. He was beginning to derive a conclusion and realising that this was definitely the same mage who had drugged the Rider company. He doubted that the mage was going to be particularly powerful; all his spells so far had appeared feeble and predictable, he had seen nothing that feared him, and the mage would not be expecting him, but Arvid with the dragon. Anger welled up in him again as he thought of Daine's distress when she had found out that Kitten had gone. He blasted through the veil, black smoke mingling with the burgundy.
A man faced him. His skin was the colour of milk, made all the more paler by the shock of black hair that sat upon his head. A purple robe immersed his bony frame. Numair thought that his features looked Scanran, he was certain that he had never met him at any point before.
"Well, Master Salmalin," the man spoke in a quiet, mild voice. "He said you'd come. You do like to act out the hero, don't you?"
Realisation hit Numair. It hadn't been Kitten they'd wanted, it had been him. Without him and Daine Tortall would be severely weakened and much more open to attack from the Copper Isles and Scanra. He sent a bolt of magic at the mage, who laughed as it bounced away, leaving him untouched.
"You see, Salmalin, I know everything about you. Whereas for you, I am an unknown quantity." He swiftly raised his hand and a bolt of dirty red lightning struck Numair, jolting him backwards, forcing him against the jagged cave wall. Numair felt a sharp pain rip through his back as a serrated rock pierced his skin. He got to his feet; forcing himself to ignore the pain and the blood he could feel running down his skin. If he died now he would never be able to help his country, Daine would never know how he felt and he would never have the future that he wished for.
He eyes the laughing mage before him. Somewhere there will be a weak spot, he thought. I am a black robe mage. I would have eaten him on toast at university.
"Who are you?" Numair asked him, his brain itching with ideas.
"I am Osric Ragenhere. Did you want to know the name of the man who would kill you?" He said in his laughing voice.
"I'll go to the realms of the dead when its time, Osric Ragenhere, and certainly not at your hands!" Numair said steadily, bracing himself. He said a word under his breath and open up his palm. A black ball fell over Ragenhere, caging him. Then the ball shattered and vaporized. Almost immediately Numair felt as if he had been punched in his chest and stomach by a spell that was too quick for him to see. He returned, throwing a block of his magic at the mage, knocking him into the wall behind him.
Ragenhere laughed, although Numair knew he must have been in pain. His opponent freed a burgundy flash of light from his fist that grew larger as it got to Numair, looking as if it was going to swallow him whole. Numair shielded himself with his own black fire, dispersing the red into the cave walls. He held his two hands up; in between them shone a ball, black interspersed with fragments of silver.
Ragenhere shook his head. "I thought the great Tortallian black robe mage was much greater than a mere Nalian Ball. Do you not dare attempt to kill me?"
Numair let the ball bounce, Ragenhere held up his hands as it came towards him and his magic caused the ball to rebound. The ball then began to separate into tiny silver particles and they rebounded against the cave walls. Numair ducked out of the way as they headed towards his foe. He felt as if the whole scene was taking place in slow motion. He watched as each tiny silver fragment impaled the Scanran mage against the sharp cave wall. Ragenhere scream a curse in Old Thak, a burgundy blaze darted towards Numair. Numair held up both hands, any curse in Old Thak he could handle, and the fire dropped into a puddle.
"It would be a pity to waste you're your hard work," Numair hissed, raising up the red sheet of the remains of Ragenhere's curse. He uttered a single word of the dead language and sent the sheet back to its originator, immersing the laughing mage into the cave wall, leaving a rocky outline of his anguished face imprinted there, ready to watch the next set of lovers who came to visit.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thank you to all those people who have reviewed, please continue. And if you haven't review please do so as I would like to know what you think!