Proof read by Danaye.
This chapter is for new and old readers.
Chapter 30
The scene in front of them was chaotic. The dust of the crumbled houses hung heavily in the air and the men and women of the Queen's Riders were barely recognizable.
Alanna dismounted from her horse and her companion followed suit. Behind them, the King's Own began to clear the area of unwanted spectators. Alanna and Numair allowed one of the street-boys to take hold of their horses and then turned their attention to a woman coming towards them.
"How many?" Alanna asked, looking at a gurney being carried past her. The figure was covered by a white cloth to shield the features of the dead person.
"That's the fourth," the woman, a K'miri, said. Underneath her mask, her brown face was covered by gray dust.
"I thought that Onua told us there were no casualties," Numair said while he pointed a finger at two Riders trying to lift a heavy beam. Black fire erupted from his fingertips and the wood was lifted up from the hands holding it. He allowed it to drop out of the way.
"When the news first reached us that was the case, but now," Buri turned to the houses around them, "we keep finding more and more. We still haven't even been into all of the houses."
"Where do you want us?" Alanna asked as violet fire spread from her fingers and covered the entrance to one of the barely standing houses.
Buri took off the mask from her face. Everyone around her wore one. "We need to probe the houses for any fallen or survivors. Numair, we need you to keep them standing so that they don't come crashing down around the ears of the helpers."
Numair nodded and walked forth with black sparkles ribbing over his skin. He turned to the house that Alanna was looking at. The Riders near him hurried out of his way and as he unleashed his gift, everyone's hair on their arms stood straight up in the air.
Alanna moved to his side, allowing her gift to search the house. "Buri," she called, "there's three inside, two alive and one dead."
Buri, who stood behind the two mages, nodded. She turned to the riders. "Group one," she called and gestured at six people to come forward. "Bring them out. Numair?" she called, "how long can you hold up the house?"
"Forever," he answered, but saw the glance that Alanna directed at him. He altered his estimation. "Five minutes."
"That's good enough for me," Buri said and gestured to the riders.
They hurried forward, disappearing into the crumbled house.
Soon thereafter, a rider came out carrying a small bundle, which turned out to be a three-year-old child. Alanna knew that the girl was alive, but when some of the next riders emerged with the next person she closed her eyelids over her astonishing violet eyes. The man, the father of the child, had been claimed by the Black God himself. "Forever? Really, Numair, that's the most foolish thing I've ever heard. We don't have forever," Alanna snapped, while taking in the scene in front of her. As the riders came into sight with the mother, barely alive, she sighed low, "this shouldn't have happened."
Numair glanced to the side again, looking at his friend. "If you are done scolding me, I would tell you that no, it shouldn't have happened. However, it did and he will be put to justice over his actions." He lowered his hand and a loud sound roared through the street as the house came down. He quickly covered his mouth with a cloth.
Alanna took a step to the side and looked up at him, waving the dust away from her face with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. "You really know how to make everything worse, don't you?" She coughed and focused on the house in front of her, "There is only one problem with this." She lifted her hands away from her face and from her fingers flames spread, capturing the dust that was drifting through the air. It stopped, caught by the force of the magic, and came together in large dust-balls. "We are to blame for this. It was our potion he multiplied..." her words were cut short by an angry reply from Numair as the dust-balls crashed towards the ground.
"But it was his doing. I can see traces of his magic in every brick around this place. He'd hoped that he would go down along with everyone," Numair allowed his gift to enter the second house as it had the one before, "he was going for suicide, but he failed."
Alanna's gift stopped when it reached a sign of life. "One," she shouted and Buri gestured to another group of riders. "I don't care if he failed. He should have a thorough beating for this and I would gladly volunteer to administer it."
Numair reached out and took hold of the construction of the building in front of him. "You'll have to beat me to it," he said while the riders carried a person out, "for he should have his ass kicked for what he did here. One shouldn't play with unknown powers like he did, consequences can be huge."
A shadow slid over Alanna's features. "Don't remind me," she growled and thought back to a time when a man with red hair and violet eyes such as hers had once lived. Her late brother had been known for taking unnecessary risks, and thinking back she growled low, "That's why I'm going to tell him a few things about the proper handling of magic — if we can wake him again."
Numair snorted and allowed the building to go down. He contained the gusts of debris that threatened to overtake them with a shield. "That's why I always carry this," he patted the small purse hanging from his belt, "wakeflower should solve that problem."
Alanna laughed as she turned to the last building. "Even Gainel would wake from his dreamworld or the Black God himself," she paused at violet flames snaked slowly into the building. The house was only being upheld by one beam and one wrong movement could cause a disaster, "have you looked at her back yet?"
Long tentacles of black fire settled themselves around the empty frames of the windows and the open doorway. Numair glared daggers at his short friend, "Really, Alanna, first the kiss, now her back? You have had every possible opportunity to tell me if there is something I missed about her, but I still have a feeling that there's something important you're not telling me."
The Lioness shook her head, her violet eyes ablaze with hope, "Five alive," she shouted and men from the King's Own rushed past Numair and Alanna to enter the house. "No," she replied slowly, "I'm sure it's..." her voice was cut short by screams coming from behind them.
Alanna turned and sighed as she saw a frantic woman, obviously close to one of the dead victims, throwing herself over the body on the gurney they passed upon arrival. "I hate that part," she muttered, turning back to the house in front of them. The last men of the King's Own were leaving the house.
Glancing up to where Numair stood upholding the magic that supported the house, she asked, "Do you have, by any chance, some interesting idea about how to turn this," she pointed to the crumbled bricks of the houses, "into something that could be a memorial for the ones who died due to our stupidity?"
The Black Robed mage lowered his hands and the last house came down. "How many casualties are we up to?"
"Six," it was Buri who replied, "we just found another, but I'm not sure that he had anything to do with this." She turned and pointed to an alley near where they stood, "We found him with a huge wound in the middle of his chest, not any type of wound I have ever seen before."
"Fire-wound?" Numair suggested, while drawing out the residue of the other mage's gift from their surroundings. A small stone glowed in his hand and green-colored strings were pulled from everything around them.
"It looks like it, but he's been blown right through. Even if he survived, he couldn't have been healed." Buri ducked as one green string blew over the top of her head. "Why are you doing that?" she asked, concerned as Numair produced another stone from his belt-purse.
"Alanna and I considered using the remains of the houses to make some sort of memorial, but I can't manipulate anything with traces of his gift hanging in everything. So, I'm pulling it out and storing it."
Buri turned her head to Alanna, seeing a guilty expression in her violet eyes. Her head snapped back to Numair and she saw the same guilt in his eyes. "Oh," she waved a finger warningly, "you two did something, didn't you?"
"Define 'did something'," Alanna said quietly, clearly refusing to answer Buri's question. She didn't look up from where her feet brushed pebbles back and forth over the ground. Dark clouds were beginning to assemble overhead, and it wouldn't be long before the rain came.
Buri opened her mouth, but a large frame that had appeared beside her shook his head. "Don't even try," Raoul told her, "you're not going to get anything out of them." Buri glanced up at him with an angry expression on her face.
"Speaking of trying, when where you going to tell me that you were back home? I had to hear it from my riders. Evin Larse wouldn't shut up about you sneaking through the gates last night like some coward, walking in your socks, holding your boots in one hand and the reins in the other."
Alanna's head snapped up so suddenly that she almost lost her balance. She turned her head to her two friends, taking in each of their postures. Buri's small, 5 foot, 4 inches was a stark contrast to Raoul's staggering, 6 foot, 4 inches. A laugh erupted into her throat, only to burst from her mouth a moment later. It was clear that she was picturing the Commander of King's Own walking as such.
Everyone around them stopped moving, even Numair halted his task and the green-colored magic hung motionless in the air. "So much for the hope of another arranged marriage?" he stated, smiling as he clapped Raoul on the shoulder, intending on congratulating the man.
"Arranged marriage, eh?" Buri looked up, fury entering her eyes. "Gone from Corus for months, avoiding me and sneaking around," she shook her head while turning her back to the tall man, "someone clearly had a change of heart after we spoke last. Let me know when you're done acting like an ostrich, hiding your head in a hole."
The large man flushed red, showing even in his sunburned cheeks, and stared after the small woman as she angrily walked away, yelling new orders to those who had forgotten the task at hand.
Numair took his hand slowly away from Raoul's shoulder. "Why do I have the feeling that I just messed something up?" He spoke with a low and uncertain voice, not taking his eyes from the K'miri as she waved away an offered water skin.
Raoul shook his head and left them without a word.
Numair glanced at Alanna and flinched when the Champion punched him right in the middle of his upper arm. "Hey!" he exclaimed, "stop punishing me for something that is entirely out of my hands." He rubbed the palm of his hand against the bruise underneath the fabric of his clothes, "how was I to know that Buri is smitten with him?"
The last trace of the green-colored gift leapt into the second stone clutched in Numair's hand. He tucked the stones away as Alanna shook her head. "She isn't," she replied almost inaudibly, "she's angry at him and hasn't forgiven him yet. She found him a few months back, drunk and heavily intoxicated, almost on the brink of ending his own life. She actually threatened him, saying that if he ever did that again or even considered leaving all of his friends behind, she would kill him herself. Then she turned around and kissed him before slamming a firm fist into his jaw, knocking him out. Ever since that our dear commander hasn't so much as touched a goblet of wine. However, they clearly haven't spoken about that kiss yet."
Numair sighed loudly, his thoughts rushing back to the paddock where he had kissed Daine. He needed to talk with her and set some sort of ground rules, before he lost his mind completely thinking about what she would consider appropriate and what she wouldn't. The problem wasn't that he was ignorant in the art of courting a woman. The problem was the fact that he was the expert in that field.
A fist landed above the new bruise on his arm and Alanna raised an eyebrow at him, "If you're done fleeing from reality, I would like to get on with this. We still have to get a certain man and drag him to where we can question him properly."
Numair nodded, pulling himself together. Black fire erupted from his hands as he silently spoke words of an ancient and complex language. Bricks were lifted up in front of him and, adding a touch of warmth, they were forged together. Closing his eyes, thinking that a sculptor would be much better suited to this task, he imagined the six people who had lost their lives to a crazy assassin.
Daine woke abruptly and sat up.
Someone had carried her inside a stall where the gray mare from Galla stood. The pony nipped her hair in affection and snorted down into her hair that it was about time that Daine woke. The mare hadn't been very happy about Daine being carried into the stall by some overly large, chestnut-brown man and she overloaded Daine with opinions about how she had thought to either sink her teeth into the man or simply kick the man out from her stall.
Daine smiled and reached up to scratch her between the ears, "I'm glad you did neither, because it seems that I am to live here for a while."
The mare snorted again and turned her head, glaring at a woman who leaned against the open door.
"Someone's finally awake," the woman said smiling and proceeded into the stall.
When she was near enough, the gray mare responded with laying down her ears. She was considering where best to bite the intruder, when her nostrils caught the sweetened smell of hidden apples.
The mare snorted loudly and nudged the newcomer in her chest. The woman laughed, "Well, that was a nice welcome. Couldn't you have given one of my trainees that same gratitude, instead of biting her arm?"
"She did what?" Daine pushed herself from the ground and took hold of the mare's muzzle. Forcing it to look her in the eyes, she scolded, "Shame on you!"
Someone patted her shoulder. "Relax. It was the girl's own fault. We have been telling her to treat the horses like she wanted others to treat her," the woman shrugged, "well, maybe that bite will bring out better behavior in her. Otherwise, she'll be dismissed from the Queen's Riders."
Daine shook her head at the mare. "Please don't bite anyone," she told the mare strictly, "unless they have ill intentions."
The woman had stopped short inside the stall, her hands filled with napkins containing cinnamon buns. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail which highlighted the sharp cheek-bones. Her lips were pulled up into a smile. Her clothes were stained and looked to be used on a daily basis.
Daine had looked the same back in Galla, when she had been allowed to wear breeches and a simple plain shirt. She sighed low and muttered a silent 'behave' to the mare. The animal in question turned around, her back towards the other woman, and lifted her tail like a offended cat.
The woman took a step further inside the stall, glancing at the horse. "Someone is in a foul mood this morning," she commented and offered her hand to Daine, who still sat down on the floor. She then waved an apple up in the air.
The mare turned, only to snap up the apple and then turn again. "My name is Onua Chamtong. I'm the horse mistress for the Queen's Riders and a friend of Numair."
Daine took her hand and looked down when calloused skin touched the inside of her palm. "Daine," she muttered back, "Veralidaine Sar..." She suddenly stopped with a bewildered look in her eyes. She hadn't considered that her surname didn't apply anymore. She was betrothed, but did that mean that she was to use his surname from now on?
Daine sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, but I am a bit confused about which surname I'm going to use from now on," she told Onua, hoping that the woman wouldn't start to question her about her background.
The woman only smiled, which surprised Daine greatly. "Use whatever seems fit. That's the benefit of the life we make. In the Queen's Riders, nobody thinks twice about who you are. If you can be at service and keep at your work, then you are welcome here."
Daine smiled. "Then I'm Daine, just simply Daine."
Onua smiled at her, settling herself down on a bale of hay. "See, that wasn't difficult. Now, has Numair told you anything about this place?"
Daine nodded. "He explained some things to me yesterday, but what I am to do here is still unclear to me," she smiled, "other than to be his wife apparently."
"He's a good man, Daine, and he will look after you."
She blushed, thinking back to the kiss they had shared while lying on the ground. Being considered a bastard in Galla, other men had tried to kiss her, but she had fought them or ducked out of the way every time. That kiss had simply been something that still tingled on her lips and, closing her eyes for a brief second, she remembered the feeling of utter sensation in her stomach.
"Yeah," someone said and Daine flinched. She had completely forgotten the other woman. She opened her eyes and Onua patted her knee. "He has that effect on a woman. Oh no," Onua shook her head, "not like that," she hurried to add as Daine raised her eyebrows.
"He has had his acquaintances, but I think that he was just waiting for the right one." Onua stood abruptly, brushing her hands off on her breeches. "I—" she stopped when she saw the uncertainty in Daine's eyes and then sat down again. "I'm sorry, I'm so used to having folk know everything around here and I forgot that you had only been here one day. About what I said about him, it's a part of his past. He hasn't been with a woman in a long time," Onua stopped herself and shook her head as she looked into frightened blue-gray eyes. She sighed loudly, "I'm not making a very good impression for him, am I?"
Daine shook her head. "It's okay," she smiled, "I'm new here and I know that he has a past. Every man is bound to have been with a woman and," she halted, feeling strange. She didn't want to talk about this particular subject. She smiled up, hopefully, "Can we talk about something else?"
Onua nodded, "Of course. You probably want to change into something more comfortable." She pointed to Daine's dress, "One can not work in a dress like that." At that, Onua stood, holding a hand out to Daine, "The Queen's Riders have some spare clothes you can borrow, until you get some of your own."
Daine took the offered hand, frowning. "Work?" she asked and followed Onua out of the stall.
The woman turned and gave her a cautious smile, "I figured that you would rather spend the day among the horses than sitting with the other women of the court, embroidering your initials on a handkerchief."
Daine nodded frantically, thinking about how many times the needle had ended up in her thumb instead of the fabric. "Yes, please, anything other than that. I'd even muck the entire stable to be spared from that."
"Mucking the stables isn't exactly what I had in mind. We have stable-boys to do that and the trainees take care of their own horses."
They reached the end of the stable and looked out to where the rain fell heavily down over the filled paddock. The Queen's Riders rode in formation, splattering mud in all directions. Daine stopped as someone, a tall lanky girl, slid from the saddle and ended up down on the ground, directly in the mud.
"This isn't the right time to pretty yourself, Trainee Selda," a large man bellowed, "if you can't keep your self up on your horse, how will you manage a ride from here to Galla?"
The girl in question rose up on all fours, growling. She pointed to the horse. "That stupid horse kicks me off whenever it gets the chance," the girl shouted and stood, but ended up on the ground again as the horse in question bumped into her by mere accident. "See what I have to tolerate!" she shrieked and pounded her muddy fist on the ground.
The other riders had stopped and some were laughing.
The large man crossed his arms in front of himself. He was huge and swarthy. Daine estimated him to be approximately the same height as Numair, but maybe a few inches taller. He trudged forth and stood in front of the girl in a tantrum, looking down. "Are you done?" he asked, with obvious impatience.
The girl looked up. "I'm done with that horse!" she shrieked and pointed to the chestnut-brown mare. The pony stood with her head lowered to the ground. Daine recognized it as the one with the unborn colt. Daine sought out with her mind, asking the mare if she was okay, and she only snorted back in amusement. She was tired of being kicked in the sides every five seconds. The kicks only disturbed the colt inside her and she loved the screams that the funny girl managed to pull through such small lungs.
Daine smiled.
"I want another pony! One that doesn't throw the rider off every five minutes!"
The man shook his head in rejection. "No," He replied quietly. "You have a horse, make friends with it or quit the Queen's Riders."
Onua tucked her cloak and jerked her head in the other direction as the girl screamed in frustration, "Don't mind Selda. She's one of the riders that still has to learn how to stay on a horse, even though she graduated last year."
Daine followed Onua into the rain. She was going to be soaked by the time they reached their destination, wherever it was. Something the man had said nagged her brain. "Why are they moving out to Galla?"
The other woman glanced her way as she pushed open a door. Onua led her inside a large storage room where boxes were filled with spare clothes. She walked over to a box of black boots and took some out. "Try these on."
Daine took them and sat down. She took off the pretty boots she had on and exchanged them with the ones from Onua. "You didn't answer my question," she said while lacing up the strings, "why are the Queen's Riders moving out to Galla?"
A pair of brown breeches and a cotton shirt landed beside Daine. She looked up and saw the other woman leaning against the wall, looking back at her with a serious expression. "Has Numair told you anything about what's going on?" the woman asked instead of answering Daine's question.
Daine shook her head and raised the dress up over her head. "No," her reply was muffled by the fabric as she took hold of the under-dress she was wearing, "only that the king was assassinated and we are on the run." She quickly dressed in the other dry clothes and immediately felt more comfortable and at ease than she had been in the dress.
She picked up the discarded clothes and held the bundle in her arms. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
Onua came forth and plucked the items out of her arms, laying them in a basket. "The cleaning-crew will find those and wash them. Somehow, they always knows where everything belongs, so the clothes will be brought back to you." Onua left the room and began the trek through several long corridors. Daine soon lost track of the way.
Daine stopped as Onua paused by a new door. "You still haven't answered my question about why The Riders are going," she said again.
Muffled voices could be heard from the other side of the door and Daine wondered where the woman had led her.
Onua turned to Daine, waiting to open the door. She looked at Daine with something that resembled compassion, "Your former country is at war, Daine, civil war." She then pushed open the door to the room and entered, not saying another word.
Daine snuck a look inside and looked directly into sapphire blue, smiling eyes sitting in a face with a neatly trimmed black beard. She shook her head, refusing to enter after Onua and stepped back, crashing into someone behind her. She turned abruptly and looked up into green hazel eyes.
A man smiled at her, "It's alright, lass. The king doesn't bite unless you bite first." A large hand was placed on her back and she was pushed inside the room where other people waited.