A/N: In which Jace spends most of the time unconscious, and Ral mouths off to a god.

Chapter Three

Jace's eyes flared blue for an instant before he went limp in Ral's lap.

"Jace?" Ral said, but there was no reply. "Jace!" Ral's hand went in front of the Guildpact's mouth, and he stared impatiently at the metal of his gauntlet. After a period of time that seemed far too long, a faint mist gathered on the edge, and Ral let himself breathe again. Not dead. He wasn't dead.

Ral looked upward. For the past few hours, he had been enthralled by this plane's strange night-time phenomena, his mind working furiously, trying to decide the likeliest source—a natural extension of mana? An unusual sort of theatrical magic? He didn't really have enough information to come to a conclusion, but he had enjoyed the speculation. Now, however, it was becoming imperative that he understand what was happening.

Clouds were gathering—real clouds, bleeding into the astral formations at the feet of the man holding the lightning bolt. Darkness stirred on the horizon, and the quality of the air changed abruptly. The low-pressure indicator on Ral's gauntlet began to blink. A storm was brewing.

With caution, Ral shifted Jace's unconscious form from his lap so that he could stand. Though he was groggy with lack of sleep, the gathering currents of mana in the air were enough to revive him. Cracking his neck from side to side, he scanned the darkening horizon, and thought he saw movement beneath the flickering clouds.

A few more minutes of straining his eyes confirmed it. A group of people in light, two-wheeled carts was moving rapidly toward him and Jace. Technically, Ral thought, it was possible they meant no harm. However, glancing down at the shivering, unconscious mind mage at his feet, he wasn't exactly eager to believe in their good intentions. Besides, Ral thought with a grin, he'd been wanting a fight for a while now. And if there was a storm following them, so much the better.

Ral steadied himself and began to draw mana as they neared. The leader of the group—a woman in a short tunic embroidered with jagged, fractal patterns—stopped and leaped lightly to the ground in front of him. "Which of you is the oracle?" she asked. "We've come to take him to Keranos."

Ral looked at her. There were another seven or so warriors behind her. Not great odds, but not terrible. He'd been in worse situations. The storm was crackling overhead, and he could feel the mana tingling around him. "We're just travelers," he responded smoothly. "No oracles here."

The woman looked beyond him to Jace's still form, then turned her gaze to the sky. "Oh great Keranos," she said. "Which of these men is your intended vessel?"

Vessel? Ral did not like the sound of that. The form in the sky above wavered and dissolved, and there was a sudden brilliant surge in the fireflies in front of them. When they scattered, a man stood there, clad in a short wrap, a glowing yellow dagger belted at his side. He raised an arm to point at Jace's form, and Ral moved immediately between them. "Don't touch him," he said. "Or you will most definitely regret it."

"Do you not recognize the god Keranos?" demanded the woman.

"Nope," said Ral. He could feel sparks beginning to play lightly across his hand and arm, twining around the scar encompassed by the dragon tattoo.

"Stand aside, mortal, I would speak with my chosen oracle," boomed the so-called god. The wind leapt up as he spoke, and lightning crackled across the sky as he began to step forward, clearly confident that Ral would move.

He didn't. Instead, he reached up and caught Keranos' arm as the other tried to step past. "I said don't touch him," Ral said in his silkiest voice.

Utter incomprehension dawned on Keranos' face. "How dare you?" he demanded.

"It's a talent," grinned Ral. He felt the hairs begin to rise on the back of his neck, and the mana indicator on his glove began erratically spitting sparks. Ral spared a moment to glance down at his instruments. He knew the feeling of an ion trail better than anyone else, and he didn't particularly need another scar. The bolt that was about to strike was going to be large, but, Ral thought, with a grim chuckle, this was his element. As the clouds tore open, he reached both hands above his head.

The bolt of lightning turned at right angles halfway down from the sky, and Ral smirked as it struck a high tree about half a mile away. Keranos stepped backward in shock, and Ral began to gather mana to him as the group of warriors began to draw swords, staffs, and bows.

"I am bored," Ral grunted, the mana swirling around his wrist, "I don't like this plane," he continued as he felt the air parting into charged particles around his hand, "and I especially don't like you," he finished as they surrounded him, then reached up into the roiling storm above him and sent lightning spidering outward toward every single one of them. Thunder rolled, and the flash blinded him, but he was laughing wildly. No damn sleep, no damn safety, no damn anything but the sheer fury of the storm.

At one level, he knew he couldn't keep this up, but for this one moment, in the middle of the chaos and screaming wind and rain, he didn't care. The lightning blurred around him, zigzagging wildly as other mages started to take control of it, and Ral felt sweat beading on his forehead. He'd never tried to take on this many lightning mages before, and it was like playing a very intricate game of catch.

A stray bolt zipped across the back of his neck, and he hissed with pain, turning to try and deflect it, but in doing so, he missed another. There was no pain, but his right leg spasmed and disappeared out from under him, and he fell to one knee in the mud. A sword flashed toward him, but that was just foolish—Ral deflected it clumsily with his gauntlet and then grasped it, sending electricity flooding back up the blade. Its owner fell to the ground without a sound.

A hand touched Ral's neck, and though he turned, raising an arm, it wasn't enough to stave off the jolt that ran through him—not enough to injure, but enough to stun. The ground suddenly moved up to meet his face, and his arms and legs shuddered uncontrollably, but it wasn't as if this kind of thing hadn't happened before. He retained enough control to start moving his hand toward his belt.

"Oh great Keranos," said one of the warriors. "What shall we do with this man?"

"Kill him and bring my oracle to me." Ral's twitching fingers closed around one of the round objects at his belt, and he managed to press down the switch and send it rolling a few yards away. The little light had started to blink. Good. He tucked his chin into his chest and covered his head with his hands.

"What is tha—" Keranos started to say, and the mizzium charge went off. It was mostly light, but there was enough explosive power in it to shake the ground and send a wash of heat over the back of Ral's neck. Having prudently shut his eyes against the flash, he was much better equipped to see than anyone else in the vicinity, but his vision was still green with afterimage.

Stumbling along the ground mostly by instinct, he made it to where Jace's slumped form was resting. "All right, time to get up, Guildpact," he mumbled, reaching down and heaving the blue-clad form over his shoulder. "Dammit, you need to eat less. I never would have thought the Azorius were good at feeding people."

He staggered upright and began to make his way between the crumpled bodies. Several of them had been electrocuted, but a good few others were whimpering and clawing at their eyes. Ral managed a tired smirk as he slogged past them.

Just put one foot in front of the other. Ral repeated the mantra to himself as he forced his aching legs to move. He didn't get very far before his mana-indicator started blinking in warning, and he was forced to jump backward away from yet another small lightning bolt. Forcing his head up, he locked gazes with Keranos. Apparently, the god had not been as adversely affected by the charge as Ral had hoped.

"Give me my oracle," said Keranos.

Lightning crackled across Ral's skin as his instruments began to fail, and he hoped he wasn't roasting Jace alive. "How about no?" he responded. "He's not your oracle. If anything, he's my Guildpact." That sounded—off, but Ral didn't really have time to analyze why.

"You cannot keep this up," Keranos said, and a miniature storm leapt into being around him. "Give up, and I'll let you live."

"Sure you will," Ral said. "And you won't do anything nasty to Jace, either."

"Do you truly not understand the honor that I am offering to your friend?" demanded Keranos angrily. Sparks danced in the air between them.

"All I know is you haven't asked him his opinion on this," growled Ral. "Now go the fuck away. You aren't getting him."

"I see it has to be through your corpse, mortal. Almost regrettable—I've never seen another man with such affinity for the sky's wrath."

"Give it your best shot, if you think you can," snarled Ral, head buzzing with adrenaline, hands still clutched around Jace's back.

He felt the mana rising, intensifying in the air, as Keranos' eyes turned shining gold and the wind whipped up around him. Droplets of rain spattered against Ral's cheeks and chest, and, though he groped for his belt, his hand failed to find anything useful. He gritted his teeth as he tried to suppress the charge building in his torso and limbs, afraid that Jace wouldn't survive another shock. He could feel the mind mage's breath shallow and soft against his ear.

"Pretender Keranos!" called out a new voice. Taking a quick glance around, Ral saw that the two of them had been surrounded. Short, cat-like warriors were rising from the undergrowth. Each one of them held a drawn bow and aimed it steadily. "Leave now!" shouted the one who appeared to be their leader, shorter and stockier than the rest, with daubs of white warpaint on his craggy face.

Keranos chuckled darkly, his voice laced with the crackling noise of lightning running along a metal rod. "You believe your mere weapons can injure me?" he demanded.

"No," said the cat warrior steadily. "I believe our arrows will prove deadly to your oracle before you can kill all of us."

Raw fury boiled up in Ral's stomach, but he held it inside with an effort that left him trembling, sparks cascading down from his hair over his eyes. The air around Keranos ionized in a sudden display of twisting, fleeting electricity, but none of the bolts struck near Ral or any of the new warriors. "This is not over," snarled Keranos, and a sixth sense warned Ral to shut his eyes.

He saw the bolt even through his lids, made diffuse and red by the intervening tissue, but still retaining something of its jagged shape. Despite being prepared, he still winced at the thunderclap and had to try very hard not to fall backward at the resultant wave of sound.

When he opened his eyes, Keranos was gone, but the sky above was boiling with furious storm clouds. Ral shook a fist upwards and shouted, "And stay up there!" before staggering forward a few steps and having to lower Jace back to the ground. Bending over his knees, Ral found himself breathing so hard he was getting dizzy.

A moment later, the cat warriors surrounded them. "Well met, stranger," said the leader. "I have rarely seen such a fine display of courage in the face of one of the pretender gods." He glanced up at the sky. "Still, he has not been driven off forever. We'd best make haste to shelter. If we can offer it to you?"

Ral made a split-second decision. It was the best offer they'd had yet, and Jace was clearly in no condition to planeswalk, nor would he be likely to be again if this kept up. "Thanks," he said shortly. "Yeah."

The warriors moved in, two of them lifting Jace between them.

"Careful," Ral said sharply. "He's injured. Burns on his chest and back."

The warriors nodded, but despite their obvious gentleness, Ral was positive he heard a shift in Jace's breathing, and he didn't like it.

The small group moved off across the stormy plane. Ral was sweating slightly by the time they reached the promised shelter, exhausted from the rough journey and the earlier confrontation, but he tried not to show it. Jace had not recovered consciousness, nor made any sound other than the constant rough, gasping breaths whose unevenness increased as they moved. Ral could feel himself becoming increasingly worried.

Shelter turned out to be a small cave in the hillside, where the group huddled together, staring out at the storm outside. Jace was passed up next to Ral, where he lay against the back wall, breathing heavily, eyes shut. Trails of blood had dried dark brown at the corners of his eyes, and there was a spidery knot of inflamed tissue visible beneath the tattered rags of his shirt.

Ral turned to the leader. "Are we going to be able to get a healer for my friend?" he asked.

"We'll have to wait until the storm clears," the man answered. "But I don't think it will be long now. Keranos will have no taste for spending his strength when he cannot reach us." Ral made a noncommittal noise. He hated the first part of being on a new world, scrabbling for information and trying not to give himself away. Now he was wondering how much of that battle had already been lost during the confrontation with the self-proclaimed god. "So—stranger—" said the man. Ral swore mentally. He had been hoping his question wouldn't start an entire conversation at least. "—where are you from? Two men attracting Keranos' attention in such a dramatic fashion is not a common sight."

"We are travelers from a distant land," Ral said carefully, trying to collect his thoughts enough to go into his usual excuse. "My—friend—and I were attacked by assassins and had to leave quickly. We didn't have much choice about the destination." He hoped the next question would not be and how exactly did you travel?

"I am Brimaz," said the other. Ral could not read the expression that crossed the strange face, and he wished abruptly that Jace were in better shape. Having a functional mind mage would have been very useful right about now. "We, the leonin of Oreskos, have sometimes entertained—travelers—such as yourself."

Fuck. Ral was almost sure that was meant, 'we know about planeswalkers, and I strongly suspect you are one.' He hoped it didn't also include, 'and we hate them.'

Brimaz continued. "It seems that we share common goals. I understand you may have secrets that are yours alone, and those I will not pry into. Once the storm has cleared, we will take you and your friend to our encampment and try to heal him. It's good that he's still breathing. I've seen injuries like that on men's bodies before. Many did not survive because their hearts stopped."

Ral glanced over at Jace again. "Thanks," he said gruffly.

The storm only lasted for about another quarter of an hour, for which Ral was thankful. He didn't like the fact that Jace's breathing had changed, nor the fact that dark bruises were beginning to form, not only around the wounds on his chest, but also along his cheeks and throat. They made ready to travel as soon as the clouds had cleared from the sky. Jace was clearly having difficulty breathing by now, and he'd started to moan and thrash as if feverish, though his eyes had opened again, and he seemed to be slightly more conscious of his surroundings than before. Not that that was a high bar.

Fortunately, they didn't have to travel far. After walking for what was probably less than a mile, but seemed much longer, they came to a sprawling cluster of tents across the hillside, where they were met by another group of leonin, most of whom clustered worriedly around Brimaz.

He gave a rapid account of how they had come upon Keranos threatening a pair of travelers. Then he explained how Ral's companion had been badly injured in the storm—which was exactly how Ral had hoped he would explain Jace's injuries—and told the others to take Jace to the healer. They set Jace gently on his feet to take him across the camp, Ral mutely offering him a shoulder. The Living Guildpact took one step, and then Ral felt Jace's legs crumple beneath him. The sudden weight was too much for Ral, who felt himself going down as well. He managed to stop them from crashing into the ground at high speed and lowered Jace the rest of the way. "While it's a lovely sentiment, and I do appreciate you sharing it, maybe you should bring the healer here instead," Ral said, trying to keep the sudden anxiety out of his voice.

Jace's eyes flicked up to his face, and the mind-mage managed a smile. "I think I definitely owe you one now."

"I'll say," Ral responded, as a ripple ran through the leonin, and Brimaz began to call for someone by name, whom he assumed was the healer. "You are going to owe me an absurd amount of equipment when we make it out of here."

"Of course," Jace said, and then erupted into a fit of coughing. Pink spittle dotted his burned chest, and Ral's heart lurched unpleasantly again.

He didn't have much time to concern himself with why that might be when the leonin around them parted to let through a woman who knelt beside Jace. She looked at Ral. "He was struck by lightning?" she asked.

Ral nodded. "I've seen the burn before and the bruising around the burn," he responded, "but I've never seen a bloody cough or bruising on the face."

"What?" said Jace, looking down frantically.

"Lie still, you idiot," Ral said forcefully. "Do you enjoy the sensation of pain? Is that it? I can introduce you to someone who can help you out with that, if you'd like."

The healer bent over Jace, her eyes and hands glowing slightly white. The Guildpact let out a soft sigh as her hands played across his chest, head tipping back slightly at the release of pain. For a moment, Ral found himself captivated by the other's position, the half-open shirt, the gaping mouth, the tension starting to seep out of the shoulders—it all suggested a very different scene than the one actually presented here. He shook off the odd impression, focusing on the sound of Jace's breathing beginning to come more easily.

"Fluid in the lungs," the healer said succinctly, breaking the peculiar silence. "He'll need rest for a few days, but I can heal most of this. I'm afraid the burns will leave a scar. Better watch his heart as well, it seems to have taken quite a shock. And there's something I don't like about the facial bruising. I want to keep an eye on him."

"I need to get back to—" Jace started.

"—where we came from," Ral put in hurriedly, not sure how lucid the Guildpact was right now. "You also need to not be dying."

"I'm not dying," Jace muttered. "I'm just slightly impaired." But he let the healer work on him, and then let Ral and the healer helped him carefully to his feet and walk him over to a tent the other leonin had been busily clearing out. Jace let out a grateful sigh as he was lowered onto the pallet, his eyes fluttering closed almost immediately.

"Your lover needs rest," the healer told Ral firmly, steering him out of the tent. "You can see him later."

It took a moment for the statement to sink in. "L-Lover?" sputtered Ral in consternation.