Edit April 2010: FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to).
Thank you all for that overwhelming response! Don't you people have lives? I kid, I kid, I love you all. Lots of good ideas there, as well. This chapter contains battles and dragons!
Nothing happened for hours. Doing nothing was Numair's least favourite activity in stressful circumstances; he was getting jittery, and the oily insidious feel of the dampening spells was setting him on edge even more. He might be a war-mage, but he'd never actually been in a war, or anything larger than a skirmish; battle on this scale was an unknown quantity that he wasn't prepared for. Around him, people were taking their positions and sorting themselves out with an attitude of quiet competence that was only making him feel worse.
"Are you all right?" The voice belonged to Daine. He looked down at her and forced a smile; about to lie reassuringly, he saw the expression in her eyes and stopped himself. She might only be thirteen, but she wasn't a child; more than that, she was his friend. No, I'm not all right.
"I'm scared," he confessed softly. He wouldn't dare say so to anyone else; maybe not even Alanna. It would have been strange and awkward, admitting such a thing to the King's Champion and the most renowned warrior in the kingdom; he wasn't comfortable telling Daine, come to that. But he could see in her face that somehow she understood; she reached for his hand, and he squeezed her fingers gratefully. After a moment he began thinking aloud to her, hoping that it would help him make the decision.
"I hate to theorise without information, but I need a working plan. As it is, I either hold the spells off the Swoop so the others can function, or I leave the dampeners on them and punch through myself, to fight with what I have. The problem is that as a warrior-mage, my talents are limited, and I have no healing magic at all." Numair hadn't wanted this life. He didn't like killing, but with his level of power there was little else he could do. Shaking it off, he continued, "If Alanna were here, we could work off each other, but..."
"That's it, then," she said softly. "They lured the Lioness off and put an army between her and us just for that." He nodded. It worried him; whoever was behind this knew both him and Alanna well enough to have come up with this plan, and the list of people with that sort of knowledge was both short and alarming.
"Which means they've been watchin' us all along," George said behind them, making them both jump. "They know we've the queen here, and the next two in line for the throne."
"The Stormwings," Numair said at the same moment Daine did; the two looked at each other in dismay, the last pieces of the puzzle crashing into place. "That's why they were spying out the sea-coast," Numair continued bleakly. "They were waiting for us to arrive and get settled. I'll bet they also made sure none of our army or navy was close enough to help." His skin twitched as he automatically attempted to shake off the feeling of the dampening spells; every mage was uncomfortable now. Except Daine, oddly... He blinked. "Daine – your magic. How is it?"
She looked blank. "It's the same as ever. You told me, yourself, I couldn't turn it off."
"Wild magic," he breathed. "It's in everything. No matter how many dampeners they lay on us, you'll be able to function!" He wasn't sure yet why this was important, but there must be a way to use it. It was something their enemies had not calculated, something unexpected, and that might well make the difference in the long run.
"I can't send my friends to die," she said warningly. That hadn't been what he meant, not really, but before he could answer her expression changed. "Bows!" she called, reaching for her own. "Bows! Stormwing in the air!" George forced the children to take cover; they shouldn't be up here, really.
Numair felt something change in the air around them and swore, the vilest oath he knew. It's starting. "The wind's shifting," he said quietly. "They don't need the fog any more."
"The dampeners?" George asked hopefully.
He shook his head. "Still there. The fog laid them down. Now the spells will stick to all that the fog touched."
The full extent of the nightmare unfolded below them. In a strange way, Numair wasn't really surprised to see the familiar shapes of Carthaki war-barges and galleys; part of him had known this was coming ever since he'd learned what Sinthya had been up to.
"Such a big siege for such a little castle," Thayet murmured. "Where could they have sailed from?"
"Copper Isles," George guessed laconically. "They're Carthak's allies now."
"What are the big, flat ones?" Daine asked distractedly, searching the air for the Stormwing. Numair was saved from answering by Thayet, who began explaining how the war-barges worked.
"So this emperor has declared war?"
Onua answered this time, shaking her head. "No Carthaki flags. This isn't official."
Daine stared at her. "Surely that makes no difference. A flag's only a bit of cloth, after all."
"A war's not a war until an official declaration is made and the armies march under flags," Onua replied flatly. Numair agreed that it was a stupid affectation, but he said nothing, watching the now-visible Stormwing drop to land on one of the galleys. "None of those men or our friends in the woods are wearing uniforms, either," Onua added.
"And he can do that? It's not a war till this emperor fellow says it is?" Daine sounded thoroughly disgusted; Numair's lips twitched. Once this was all over, he would have to tell her more about Carthak and about Ozorne.
"Or until His Majesty does," he remarked absently, wondering what it would take for Jon to declare war. Would this be enough?
"We can't expect any help from our navy?" Onua asked; Numair already knew the answer and tuned out of the conversation, digging through his pockets until he found his spyglass and taking a closer look at the gathered fleet while George explained about Scanran raiders.
"Heads up, darlin's," the baron said as the Stormwing rose into view once more with a white flag in one claw. "I think we're about to hear terms."
Numair barely heard him. "This is not good," he said softly to them. "See the red robes at the bow of each ship? And there are at least four yellow robes per barge." He lowered the glass. "A scarlet robe from the university in Carthak means you have your mastery – the same level as the Mithran black-and-gold robe. University yellow robes are adepts. They brought the barges here, and their spells keep them afloat and working."
"What robe are you?" Daine asked curiously, watching the Stormwing approaching.
"None," he replied flippantly. "Ever put one of those things on? They're hot." She almost smiled, but looked to the others for an honest answer.
"He's a black robe," Onua provided. "There are only seven of them in the world." Numair didn't look round; he hadn't really wanted Daine to know that. Whenever someone learned how strong he was, they tended to pull away a little, even if they didn't realise they were doing it. Still, he'd have to worry about it later; the messenger was almost on them.
"Bows," Thayet said quietly; every archer raised their weapons.
The immortal smirked. "Now, is that nice?" A scroll dropped from one claw and landed between Thayet and George; the baron picked it up and began to read it aloud.
"To Queen Thayet of Tortall and Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop, from the Lord of the Free Corsairs, Mahil Eddace, greetings. By virtue of superior numbers and armament, I claim the castle, village, point and waters of Pirate's Swoop for the League of Free Corsairs. Should you prove obdurate – "
"Obdurate?" Daine whispered, sounding confused.
"Stubborn," Numair translated softly.
"– I shall have no choice but to reduce the castle, enslave the survivors, kill all beasts, and sow its fields with salt. You have one chance only to avoid death, capture, or enslavement; surrender to me the person and effects of Thayet of Tortall and her children, Prince Roald and Princess Kalasin. You have what remains of this day and tonight to reflect. If the three persons named are not given over to us by such time as the dawn sun will clear the horizon, we will commence bombardment by catapult. If you wish to signify acceptance of these terms, you may do so by runnin' up three white pennants."
I don't see how we could possibly refuse such a gracious offer, Numair thought sourly as George calmly tore the scroll apart and tossed the pieces over the wall. He had never heard of the League of Free Corsairs or their self-styled lord, but the message came from Ozorne anyway.
"Looks like Ozorne decided what advantage he needs against the king," Onua muttered. Royal hostages.
"There was a time when your folk were no one's errand boys," George told the Stormwing, who grinned nastily.
"We don't mind helping out. In a good cause, you understand. Hello, pink pig," the immortal added to Daine. Zhaneh Bitterclaws will be here to see you soon." He nodded at Onua. "Both of you." Numair blinked, processing this; that must be the name of the Stormwing they'd almost killed saving him. "Well?" the Stormwing asked. "Your answer?"
Politically it might have been a better idea to play for time and take the night to consider, buying time in case reinforcements were on the way. Realistically, Numair agreed wholeheartedly when George spat and replied, "Get out, before I let them make you into a pin cushion."
The Stormwing's laughter sent shivers down Numair's spine, confused memories of that nightmare chase stirring. "Oh, good. We hoped you'd say that." A moment later an osprey appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and attacked the immortal's face; Numair recognised one of Daine's patients and felt like cheering the bird on, but a flare of magic from one of the ships below drew his attention.
"Daine, call him off," he ordered quietly.
"I didn't call him on – " she protested.
He cut her off as gold fire began to spread above the galleys. "Do it!" For once, she obeyed; he wished he could memorise the tone he'd used, in case he needed it again. Dimly aware of Onua hustling the children away, Numair stared at the rippling gold square, his skin twitching as a haze of magic filled the air. There was something... Oh, gods. A moment later the gold fire exploded, and the shockwave shook the walls of the Swoop, sending everyone sprawling; the air ripped apart, a hole opening, and the sky was suddenly filled with Stormwings.
Lifting his head dizzily, Numair struggled for breath, staring wide-eyed at the approaching flock; some of the scrolls he'd been reading had mentioned the terror the immortals could inspire, but he hadn't realised before that the fear he dimly remembered feeling hadn't been drug-induced. Rolling, he scrambled to his feet next to Daine, already up and shooting; George struggled upright on his other side as people began barking orders and battle began in earnest.
Shoving away the Stormwing-inspired terror that threatened to cloud him, Numair hesitated for a second, biting his lip, then made his decision. This was going to be bloody; they would need healers. Backing away, he found a spot by the wall where he wouldn't be obstructing anybody and sat down, his back against the stone, taking a moment to get himself as comfortable as possible; this was going to be a very long day. Closing his eyes, he fell into the rhythms of meditation, calming his heartbeat and slowing his breathing, then reached out to feel the clinging fibres of the dampening spells filling the air. He concentrated; there. Got it.
The quality of the air changed, the almost greasy feel fading, and a subtle weight settled against his mind. It wasn't bad at the moment, almost effortless, but as time went on it was going to get very difficult. He opened his eyes again and watched half a dozen mages with minor Gifts start fighting in turn; it was frustrating to just sit here, since he knew that he could have sunk most of the fleet in the cove by himself, but there were going to be a lot of casualties and the healers needed to be able to function. Letting the noise wash over him, he listened for the officers' voices, vaguely aware of Onua drawing a protective circle around him, and focused on maintaining what he was doing.
Hours passed. What had been barely noticeable before was now starting to hurt; the quiet pressure against Numair's mind was increasing, giving him a pounding headache that wasn't being helped by the noise of battle raging around him. He'd stopped watching the fighting now, closing his eyes and focusing entirely on what he was doing; besides, watching was only upsetting him. These people were his friends, and they were being hurt. In addition, he was vaguely aware of Daine's struggle to stop her animal friends joining the fight; he should be able to help her, and he couldn't. It was heartbreaking to watch her continue firing with tears running down her cheeks as the attacking birds were killed.
By mid-afternoon he was past worrying about what was going on. Now he was in quite a lot of pain; nothing in his training had prepared him for such a sustained effort. Had he realised it was going to be this bad, he would have tried to destroy the dampening spells instead of just lifting them; he wasn't sure he had the power to try it now and he certainly didn't have the concentration.
A brief lull in the fighting was giving everyone else a chance to rest; he was dimly aware that Daine was sitting somewhere nearby, and people were making the rounds with water and food. Miri was saying something to her about sunburn; Numair mused vaguely that that was one advantage about being a southerner – it would take a far fiercer sun than Tortall ever got to cause him problems. He was starting to get dehydrated, though; he'd sweated through his shirt hours ago. Eventually Daine's voice reached him. "How's it going?"
She had been talking to Miri, but he answered anyway, his voice sounding hoarse. "Not bad. They can't breach the walls – can't even get near them. They're having a horrible time with the archers. We're holding our own."
"Can you drink or eat?" Kalasin asked him. "Maude says you should if it won't distract you from the spells."
I'm surprised Maude hasn't tried to mother the Stormwings yet. The woman was a menace. Numair nodded, speaking was too much of an effort at the moment, and leaned his head back against the wall once more, his eyes still closed. A moment later a cup was set against his lips, and he drank cautiously, the cold water making his headache worse. "How are you doing, Your Highness?"
"Please don't call me that," she said in a small voice. "It's 'cause of me being a princess that all this is happening. It's my fault and I hate it!"
What? Numair swallowed the last of the water and struggled to open his eyes, but Daine beat him to it. "Here, now – stop that," she told the girl gently. "You got it all wrong, sweetling. Those men would do this no matter who they're after. They could've asked for Numair, here, who's in trouble in that Carthak place – " Oh, that's a comforting thought. Thank you, Daine. "– or Sarge, that's a runaway slave. It isn't 'cause of you or Roald or anybody. You're just the excuse. If you must blame somebody, blame them Carthaks."
"Carthakis," Numair corrected, trying not to smile. We really must work on your grammar, magelet. Even so, that was well said. "Daine's right, Kalasin. The person who commits an action is the one responsible for it, not the people he commits the action upon." This was just one more to add to Ozorne's tally. Of course, the 'corsairs' hadn't asked for him, or for Sarge, because they weren't valuable enough as hostages; it still wasn't Kalasin's fault. He'd known the girl since she was a baby and didn't like hearing her so upset.
"But they said it was 'cause of Mama and Roald and me."
"So they would," Daine said angrily. "Evil people say evil things to make good people cry and doubt. Don't let them get that hold on you. It's because they're too cheap to buy food. They druther steal it if they can. That's really what it's about."
That wasn't strictly true, but Numair was in no state for a socio-political lecture right now, and it wasn't too far removed from the real motives anyway. Ozorne would prefer to steal rather than come to an agreement. The water had eased his headache a little, temporarily; he settled back against the wall once more as Kalasin was called away by Maude.
"But she's only a child," Daine murmured, confused.
"That child is a strong, natural healer," he replied tiredly. It was strange, that. The Conte line didn't generally run to healing magic. "She's partly untrained, still, but Maude can talk her through whatever has to be done." He thought about opening his eyes and decided it was too much effort; the sun was bright through the lids and it would hurt. "How are you managing?"
"What d'you mean?"
He almost smiled; he didn't need to see her face to picture her expression. "I mean your friends out there must be dying to go after the raiders, and I definitely recall you saying you won't let them fight. The birds got away from you this morning, didn't they?"
"I'm all right."
"Liar." Again he fought back a smile. It'll be a long time before you can lie well enough to fool me, magelet. I've had a lot more practice. "Is it a strain?"
"What?" He heard her stand up. "Numair, can you hear that?"
"Hear what?" He opened his eyes, wincing as the bright light stabbed him, and felt power wash through the air, neatly destroying Onua's protective circle. What – He scrambled up, losing his grip on the dampening spells when he saw what was coming towards them, and simply stared in stunned amazement.
A dragon? Numair blinked. If the griffins had been beautiful, the red dragon was something else entirely. He'd never imagined that dragons looked like this. Swaying where he stood, he was vaguely aware that Daine was trying to talk to the immortal, who didn't seem inclined to listen. "Stop!" she yelled. "Stop! What kidnappers? What lies?"
The dragon flew towards them again, and his exhausted mind finally stirred him to action; lifting a hand, he threw fire, gritting his teeth with the effort of pushing past the dampeners, and watched in dismay as it had absolutely no effect. He might as well have been flicking pebbles at the creature for all the impact it had. It seemed the Gift didn't work on dragons. That wasn't good. All he had done was attract the immortal's full attention; for a moment he stared into bright, catlike and furious eyes and wondered distantly how much it would hurt when those silver teeth tore his head off, before Daine slammed into him and sent them both sprawling.
Winded, he stared upwards at twenty feet or more of dragon and tried to simply breathe. This was... insane, frankly. Only a few weeks ago his biggest problem had been running out of books to read in the royal library, and now here he was lying between a dragon's forepaws and trying to think past the pain in his head as he got his breath back. When did my life become so strange? he asked himself and for a moment wanted to smile. When I met Daine.
As if the thought had spurred her to action, she scrambled off him and stood up; Numair managed to push himself onto his elbows, but she was standing with her feet either side of his legs and he didn't have room to stand up even if he had the energy. Taking a breath as she stared up at the dragon, she reached out and placed both hands on the immortal's chest. Is there anything you won't try to talk to?
The dragon screeched, and for a moment it felt like the bones of his skull were going to separate. Daine's nose began to bleed, but he could tell by her expression that somehow in defiance of all common sense she was managing some kind of conversation. Well, there didn't seem any way this could get more surreal, and certainly there was nothing for him to do. If anyone could talk the dragon out of apparently wanting to kill them all, Daine could.
Numair watched the oddest conversation he had ever witnessed in his life taking place and shook his head wryly. Even Daine was going to find it difficult to top this. He just hoped that the last month wasn't going to set the pattern for the rest of their time together; he couldn't take much more of this sort of excitement. Finally something seemed to happen; the dragon screeched again as Daine let go and clapped her hands over her ears, then the immortal launched herself skywards. Numair's elbow slipped and he fell back, Daine staggering to one side as the dragon left as suddenly as it had arrived, vanishing in mid air. Whatever magic dragons used, he didn't recognise it.
With a determined effort, he staggered to his feet, swaying for a moment before finding his balance, and looked at his student. "You little idiot," he told her, pulling her into a rough hug. I swear, you're going to kill me one of these days.
"She was in labour and on her way home," she explained in a somewhat breathless tone; he relaxed his hold a little as she hugged him back. "They opened the gate nearby, and it pulled her in. I think it killed her baby. Maybe it would've killed her – but it was just what you said, the wild magic was just sucked right out of me, so I think she's healing. And she's been educated, Numair, from books! Her mind – it's all organised, like you've been after me to do – "
In his exhausted state, this rambling explanation made perfect sense; it also sent his mind off at a tangent, and he might well have forgotten everything else for the sake of a long discussion about dragons had one of the trainees not appeared and called to him.
"Master Numair? The healers are asking if something's wrong. If you don't shield them now, we'll lose Sarge."
He took a breath and let go of Daine, attempting to smile at her before retreating to the wall and sitting down once more. Taking a moment to gather himself, he was vaguely aware that her nosebleed had stained his shirt, and he noticed as he closed his eyes that the others on the wall were looking at her as if they were afraid of her, which didn't make sense to him. It wasn't as if she'd summoned the dragon, after all. Making a mental note of it for later, he reached for his Gift once more and took the weight of the dampening spells again, bracing himself to endure.
Well folks, here's another chapter for you, a nice long one this time. And I have some good news; this morning I finished Wolf-Speaker. Parts need rewriting still, but it's done. And thanks to some helpful prompts by my reviewers, I managed to come up with a title as well.
There will either be two or three more chapters of this; I haven't quite decided how best to split it. As always, please review and let me know what you think.
Loten.