Well, it's been a year. A year since this crazy story born out of an idea of "What if?" began. Originally it was going to be a straight romance between a Changed Herald and his Companion, but that presented a problem in the form of 'what happened to the Companion's mind?' So it went a different way, and it wound up having more action and more of a plot. Now I'm tempted to kill both of our boys to see what the readers have to say about it. Not that you aren't already annoyed with the lack of updates. (I'm sorry about that. I think we've cleared up a few problems, but then I needed to take time out of my schedule for graduation, finals, and a doomed romance. And getting attacked by homeless men. see Xanga/homepage for details Plus… this is kind of embarrassing, but my computer's fan was making funny noises, and I couldn't work with it doing that, so I stuck a key in there to make it stop… it worked for a while, but then it died… I think I fried my hard drive, so I haven't been able to write in a while… the key worked before, I just kind of forgot it was in there this time… but I'm bringing it to a friend tomorrow to see if he can fix it without wiping my 2.5 gigs of music, so hopefully it will be back up soon. Lucky me: I have a Lexar Media chip, and all my research and stories are on it.)

And now back to being "I'm depressed and so I whine, so I whine, all the time. I'm depressed and so I whine, my name's Hiron." (To the tune of London Bridges.)

Tatsu-kitty- Gah! Creepy. I swear, I've never seen that picture before… Then again, every idea's been done at least once… "Simpsons did it!"

Shadowfax- #gratified# Thanks.

Thanks to deb-sampson, wizard116, Nali Fiero, Amber Stag, Beff, Kodora, TatsuKitty, Firelance, Fimbrethil, and Fireblade K'Chona. And I'm still singing the praises of my beta, Mischa Kitsune.

Notes: I used Old English for Empiric, since I'm likening Valdemar to America, i.e. "There is no one true way," and since America is really a patchwork of the rest of the world… and since the national language is English, and the original Valdemarans defected from the Empire… Minus the crazy, conservative, power-hungry leader, of course. And for anyone that actually understands Old English: No, I did not conjugate, and no, the grammar and placement is not correct.

Excuses: I am horrible at characterizing. All of my characters seem to have the same personality, and it's only when I describe a personality that it does. Why am I telling you this? Because I can't write POV of a four-year old. Or I tried, and I don't think it worked.

I'm frightened by what I see
But somehow I know
That there's much more to come
Immobilized by my fear
And soon to be
Blinded by tears
I can stop the pain
If I will it all away

-Evanescence "Whisper"

Chapter 23: Fallen Angels at My Feet

Brilliant, blue-white light. Purity and magic and knowledge, all rolled into a Reborn.

A Companion! Julian grabbed the arm of the Guardsman perched next to him in an attempt to stop the inevitable rain ofdeathjust as a call of 'Don't shoot!' rang out over the walls.

A woman's voice. "That's a Companion! For the love of the Lady, don't shoot!"

Rowen could be heard cursing faintly in the background. A nervous whinny arose when the clatter of Rowen's hooves sounded on the pavement near the bright presence of the Companion.

"Easy. Who are you? Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" Rowen's voice was gentle as Julian scrambled off the wall and through a doorway that Felt open. Herald Shensa walked beside him projecting an aura of kindness and welcome.

"Why isn't he Speaking?" Shensa muttered. "He should have warned us that he was coming so there wouldn't be this much alarm. What's wrong?"

Julian probed the Companion with his mind, hoping to feel what he normally felt if he probed a Companion- with its permission, of course- blue light, a sense of humor, dignity, knowledge, to name a few, and met with– nothing. No thoughts, no Speech, not even a sliver of emotion. It was like there was a shield over the-

"Something's Shielding him!" he blurted, startling Shensa. "The Companion can't Speak or even say anything to another Companion because something's blocking him! He's got his mind, but the only thing he can do is communicate like a horse." Beside Shensa, Lihandra stiffened with shock, and then- pure rage flooded the general atmosphere, and Julian stepped away slightly. Inside the castle walls, equine screams rent the air. Apparently this was new to the Companions- and they didn't like it.

A child's voice said something in a tongue that was foreign to Julian, but obviously very familiar to the defectors of the Empire. There was a pause, then almost all of the men in the courtyard started gabbling in Empiric to the Companion, and at last, Julian understood: the stallion had chosen a child of the Empire- evidently a very young child, for the voice was that of a prepubescent, and a frightened one at that.

Julian pushed his way to the front of the throng, Shensa at his side. Lihandra was next to the strange Companion, attempting to break the shield. There was a short cry from the boy on the Companion's back, then Rowen lunged forward and caught the child as he fell from the saddle.

"He's malnourished," said Rowen. "And dehydrated. Where's a Healer?"

"Here." A Healer rushed forward to take the boy from Rowen, and three more came to lay hands on the Companion who had more than abused himself in his struggle to find his Chosen. The stallion abruptly lay down on the ground next to a hastily-constructed pallet . Herald Shensa made her way over to the boy on the makeshift pallet, dragging a soldier behind her.

"Who is he?" she asked the man, who translated to the boy. The child whimpered something.

"He says his name is Shored," the soldier said. "Do we have to question him now?" he added, sympathy plain in his voice.

"We have to know why he took Tremane's soul and if he can put it back. We can't very well kill him, but Hardorn needs her King," Shensa explained. "I know he's tired, and his Companion is more so, but when we know why and how he did what he did, we may have the key to releasing his Companion, who is-" she paused, presumably talking with Lihandra. "Groveborn!"

Her voice turned shaky. "Another Groveborn besides Rolan… this is bad. And someone had the power to Mindblock him. Ye Gods…"

A jingle of harness bells as the Companion shook his head in frustration as Shensa continued.

"Even Kalira wasn't Groveborn; neither was Yfandes, and they were Bonded to two of the most powerful Heralds that Valdemar has ever seen. Are we in for the one war that may destroy Valdemar?"

Julian paled. A war even bigger than the one with Karse…

Fire. Blood red skies. Soldiers fought on a battlefield turned muddy with blood, stepping on wounded men and tripping over dead ones. Ravens and vultures circled the skies above, patiently waiting for the fighting to end; the feast to follow was sure, and they could wait. Ragged banners showing the arms of Hardorn, Rethwellan, Karse and Valdemar lay trampled in the red mud or were being used to carry wounded men from the killing grounds. Heralds and Companions lay dead on the earth, along with Firecats and their Bonded. Above the sounds of clashing steel and screaming, a single laugh arose on the winds of death; the cruel, cold laughter of a single mage…

A name… Melles…

Gasps arose from many of the men and women standing within fifteen feet of the boy, including one from Julian.

To any of the Gifted, the Foresight vision was clear, even to those who did not have the Gift of Foresight; even to Julian.

But where was it coming from?

"The boy," Shensa said suddenly. "Shored. It's coming from him."

Lihandra snorted in agreement, and Julian frowned. "But how? There are no records of this ever happening before."

"He's got to be a Foreseer and a Mindspeaker," Shensa said shortly. "That's the only way that he could have done that."

"Can we bring him inside now?" the as-yet unnamed Healer asked. "He seems to be stable now, but we need to get him inside and cleaned up."

"Fine," Shensa said gruffly. "But I want to question him again when he's stronger. Tremane doesn't have much time left, and the boy has his soul around his neck. Speaking of which-" Julian heard the sound of a belt knife being pulled, and a short gasp from the boy. A short ripping sound and a satisfied sound from Shensa. "I'll be taking this."

Shored moaned, and a similar noise arose from the Mindblocked Companion next to him. Shensa began to walk away, and the moan intensified into a quiet wail. She stopped and turned. "What-"

Slowly, almost unnoticeably, the wind started to pick up. Dead leaves and loose dirt began to swirl around the humans near the wall. Julian frowned. This was weird.

The wind came in gusts now, whipping clothing and hair about with eerie force. The air seemed to thicken and become charged with electricity, and Julian smelled burnt ozone. Small sticks and tiny rocks became projectiles that battered themselves against the wall and each other. An eerie howl undulated through the air, and Julian knew in his soul that it wasn't the wind. His instincts were telling him to leave, run, get somewhere small and safe where some thing couldn't get at him, and an unaware terror began to grow in him. The rocks and sticks flew faster and began throwing themselves at the humans, many of whom began to scramble toward the presumed safety of the castle walls. The Companion surged to his feet, perhaps better to protect Shored. The Healers stayed with their patients, and Julian tried to make his way through the buffeting winds toward them. A presence loomed at his right, and Rowen's arm pulled Julian to lean on his bulk. "Come on!" he shouted above the howl of the wind. "I think it's the boy that's doing this! We have to stop-" a fist-sized rock thudded into the side of the Changechild's head, and he swayed on his feet.

"Rowen!" Julian cried in concern.

"I'm fine!" Rowen protested, and another, bigger rock slammed into his unprotected side, and Julian heard the crack of breaking ribs.

"Stop!" he screamed at the boy. "Please stop! You're hurting him!" Shensa was next to him, then, yelling in his left ear.

"I think he wants the pendant!" she screamed.

Pendant? "What pendant?" he shouted back.

"The one with Tremane's soul that I took from around his neck!"

Oh. That pendant.

"You took it!"

"What was I supposed to do, leave it with him?"

She had a point.

"That doesn't matter! Give it back!"

Shensa screamed, "I can't even see! There's too much dust in the air, and the sky is completely dark! I think we're the only ones out here- use your Empathy!"

Duh.

He pulled his shields down partway and found the boy and his Companion ten feet in front of them. The Healers were scattered around on the ground, and it felt like they had been knocked out. He widened his field of 'sight,' and found several of the mages and Guards huddled down on the ground in balls or unconscious, and the rest of the castle in a panic, a hundred yards away. Lihandra was trying to fight her way back toward the unknown Companion and his boy, but there was something pushing her back, and she was limping on three legs.

Julian pressed through the wind and darkness and flying things that he could not see, placing one foot in front of him. One step. Then another. Rowen shouldered through next to him, even though he was clearly in pain. Shensa was on his other side, and the three of them pushed their way toward the boy from the Empire and his Companion.

"Shored! Stop! You can have the pendant back! Just stop!" Shensa screamed.

There was a thunderous sound of snapping wood as an oak tree was ripped out of the ground to their left, and a whoosh as it flew toward them. Julian and Shensa threw themselves on the ground and there was a flash of heat as Rowen incinerated the tree. They stumbled back up and made their way to the boy.

"Shored! Here!" Shensa screamed, brandishing the jewel at him. "Take it!"

The wind whipped it out of her grasp and toward the boy, who did not notice as it flew into the dirt to bury itself under his pallet. The supernatural force and actions of the wind did not abate, however, and the two Valdemarans and the Shin'a'in ducked as another tree flew by overhead. A frantic mooing came from overhead as something very large was thrown overhead.

'A cow?'

"Baa!"

'This is getting ridiculous,' Julian thought as what had to be a sheep flew by, buoyed by the winds.

He reached for the boy, but was met by a slippery wall of force that blocked his mental hand, and it slid away from the boy.

Julian rethought his jerry-rigged strategy and reached for the Companion, hoping to get to the boy by jumping from the not-horse through their Bond. Instead, he was met by a sort of cube-shape around the Companion's mind.

'What the-'

The thing was definitely cube-shaped, with razor edges clearly meant to defend against mind-probes. Every side was divided into nine even squares, each tinted with a different type of spell. One thing was constant, though- there were only six tints, and each tint had exactly nine, even squares. No same colored squares touched. Julian studied it, then realized with a start-

"It's a puzzle!" he shouted aloud.

"What?" Rowen yelled, but Julian was too busy studying the puzzle to answer.

Could he push the shield sections across the cube to touch each other? He pushed on one gently first, then with all of his might. No. But what if he tried pulling it apart? Cautiously, he inserted a mental javelin between two squares and tugged, but nothing happened. He grabbed the middle section of cubes and pulled- his mental grip slid off, but the section spun on an axis to match two squares together. Julian gasped and grabbed another section and yanked experimentally. It twisted, too.

"Rowen!" he yelled, and hit the Changechild on the shoulder. "I think I can get the shield off the Companion. Cover me and make sure I don't get distracted!"

"Right!" Rowen screamed back.

"Shensa!" Julian shouted. No reply. "Shensa!" he yelled louder. Still nothing. He probed- only to find her unconscious from what could only be a mental psi bolt. Lihandra was steadily making her way toward them through the worsening winds, though, and in half a minute she was curled around her Chosen.

Rowen gripped Julian on the shoulder. "Good luck!" he yelled, and the next second, the world turned to flame.

The Changechild created a net of fire out of the very air around them, draping it around the two of them and the Companion and her unconscious Herald. It incinerated anything larger than a tankard that flew at them. Anything smaller- Rowen grunted and Julian felt him move his body to kneel over Julian, shielding the Empath-Bard while he worked. Julian flushed with both unwanted but unbanishable sexual tension and concern for his friend, who had at least three cracked ribs and certainly a concussion.

He pushed the distraction away, and concentrated on solving the puzzle. Turn-turn-turn- he had one side, but the rest was still mixed. He could feel the Companion pushing from the inside with no success, and scrambled the puzzle again, twisting. It seemed like hours had passed, and he'd only been able to get one side at a time, and he was beginning to despair of ever freeing the Companion. Suddenly, a strong Presence was beside him, studying the mind-puzzle. Who-

:Boy. . . Bard. . . :

What the hell?

:It's me, Bard. Lihandra.:

The- Shensa's Companion was Speaking to him? But Companions never spoke to anyone but their Chosen-

:Yes, I'm Speaking to you.: Her voice was gravelly, sort of like an old woman's voice. :Can you solve it?: she asked, referring to the puzzle.

'I'm no good at puzzles,' he admitted. 'What do we do?'

:We do nothing. I will try to solve it.:

Stung, he retreated from the puzzle to reality, and the still-whipping winds and stones. Rowen was sagging above him, and he knew the Changechild couldn't last much longer.

:What are you doing: Lihandra asked.

"Staying out of it!" he yelled back.

There was a short pause. :I can't see the puzzle without you,: she admitted. :I'm sorry I was so brusque. Please go back to the puzzle so I can try to free Gaelan.:

He nodded at her and went back to staring at the cube-puzzle. Before him, sections of the puzzle began spinning on a central axis, some faster than he could make out the color. Sides would be complete, then go back to spinning before he could make out the tint. He watched until his 'vision' became blurry, and he realized that he was fading with Reaction.

'Lihandra?' he thought. 'Lihandra, I don't think I can hold on much longer.'

:I can't solve it,: she replied, mental voice colored gray with fatigue. :I can feel the blocks, but I can't see them. All I'm doing it spinning them until a side has a unanimous texture, but I can't get two sides at once.:

An idea arose in his mind. 'What if I let you see what I'm seeing?'

:But you're blind,: she asked, confused. :How can you see the puzzle?:

He couldn't explain it to her, so he just threw a mental line to her. She took it, and for a split second, he thought there was a tall, birdlike woman with brown eyes, hair and skin holding his hand. He shook his head, and the vision vanished to be replaced with a strange sense of both being wrapped around the cube and seeing it from far away. There was also a sense of power that was his, but inherently not his- it was Lihandra's, and it was depleting fast. The cube was also spinning faster than it had before, but the Companion beneath was withering.

'Lihandra-' he began, intending to tell her what he thought was happening.

:I know. It's being fed by Gaelan's energy, and the more we try to solve it, the more it drains him. 'Groveborn' is not synonymous with 'invincible.':

'Can we do anything?'

:You can let me finish trying to solve the puzzle.:

He left her alone and briefly probed for Rowen, ignoring his unbehaving body's reaction. The Changechild was swaying on his knees above Julian, and the flame net was almost gone.

Abruptly, he found himself staring at the puzzle. The nearly completed puzzle. Lihandra turned it one more time, and there was an almost audible snap, like a bone being pushed back into its socket. All six sides glowed solidly, and Lihandra sighed.

:It's done.:

'Now what?'

:Watch.: She seemed satisfied. Julian found out why when cracks began to run around the shield-cube, and then they deepened into fissures, then the entire thing fragmented. Bright shards of the shield disintegrated as Gaelan's mind reared free of its confinements.

Lihandra pulled away from him, and his view returned to normal- nothing, and his sense of reality returned as well. Everything was still blowing, but it was slower and less malevolent. Above Julian, Rowen swayed again, and the net vanished.

"Sorry- Julian-" he gasped out, then fell on his damaged right side.

Without warning, the wind stopped.

Everything seemed eerily silent after the cessation of the constant howling and shrieking of the artificial storm, and it seemed like Julian was deaf, for a moment.

Rowen groaned, breaking the silence, and Julian shook himself out of his exhausted daze to scramble over to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. "Rowen?"

"Eh… I'm fine," the Changechild gasped out. "Just let me lie here for a bit, and tell the Healers not to move me much- one of the broken ribs is digging into a lung, and I don't want to puncture it." Without waiting for Julian to reply, he continued. "Sheka, this hurts. Check on the lad, will you?"

Julian nodded and stumbled over to where Shored lay, with Gaelan standing guard over him.

The boy felt fine. He was very weak and exhausted, and his body's resources were almost nil, but he was going to survive. Gaelan was much in the same way, but more so.

Julian knelt and scrabbled around in the dirt under the pallet for the pendant. His fingers closed around it and he drew it out. He felt around for the clasp, intending to place it around Shored's neck, before he realized that Shensa had torn the chain apart. Sighing, he placed the pendant in the boy's open palm, closing his fingers around it. Almost immediately, Shored Felt better, and Julian sat down on the ground before he could collapse. He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming, and groaned as he discovered what the magnitude of this Reaction was going to be.

A soft touch on his forehead. He put his hand up to find the muzzle of a Companion against the crown of his head. It could only be Gaelan.

:Bard,: a deep, masculine voice said. The signs of the impending headache vanished like they had never been. :Thank you.:

The Healers were beginning to come around, and Julian could hear chiming coming from the direction of the castle. The Heralds were coming.

"A Groveborn!"

"Did you hear? The new Companion is a Groveborn!"

"It's not possible! Why would a Groveborn choose a child from the Empire?"

The rumors of the Groveborn flew through the castle like wildfire, causing no end of headache for the resident Heralds, who themselves had no idea what to make of Gaelan, and no idea of what to do with his Chosen, who couldn't be separated from the pendant, lest there be an encore performance of his entrance.

The Healers, mages and Herald-mages were clustered around Tremane day and night, fighting to bolster his body's failing resources with what they could transfer. It wouldn't last long, however, and Shored refused to talk about the pendant. When anyone asked him about putting Tremane's soul back in his body, however, he would affix them with a blank look, clearly not understanding what they were asking of him.

The problem of what was going to happen to Tremane was becoming a major point of contention between Herald Shensa and some of the mages who clearly did not understand just what a Herald was and did, and thought to forgo what could prove to be a major help against the Empire.

"Do you really want to sacrifice a kingdom for the sake of one boy's life?" a thin, cadaverous mage asked her.

"The kingdom with not fall with his death!" Shensa shot back. "There can be a new King-"

"He's a boy!"

"A Herald!"

"Not yet."

"He will be," she insisted.

"Even so, aren't Heralds usually called to sacrifice themselves in the line of duty?" a pretty young mage asked, smirking.

"Not when they are children that are still learning to speak," Shensa said hotly. "And not when we still have other options."

"Such as?"

"Finding an Adept mage."

"There's no time!" the woman said. "Even if there were any Adepts of use anymore, we only have two days at best to put his soul back, and the closest Adepts are three days away! How do you propose we fix him now, Herald?"

"We will," Shensa said calmly. "But any who would kill that boy will have to destroy every Herald and Companion in the castle and any within a three-day range of here."

Stony silence met her words.

"And go through myself and Rowen first," Julian said from the doorway. "No one kills Shored, and if he does. . . The dyrstaf was bad enough. I can make it ten times worse." Next to him, Rowen produced a flame that danced upon his fingertips. "This castle will find a new meaning to the word 'hell.'"

When the impromptu argument had dispersed and they were back out in the hallway, Shensa asked Rowen, "Wasn't that a little melodramatic?"

"Not when you're dealing with mages," the Shin'a'in informed her. "And not mages that come from the Empire. They're used to responding to threats, and they don't know if I'm bluffing or not."

"Are you?" Shensa asked, only half joking.

He looked at her solemnly. "I don't know."

Two days passed, and Tremane was on the brink of death.

"Shored," Julian pleaded with the boy. "Please, tell us how to put Tremane's soul back."

The boy gave him a blank look.

"Helpe," he tried in Empiric, even though he knew the defectors from the Empire had already tried pleading in both Hardornen and Empiric. "Léodcyning inýdhelp." The King is in trouble.

The boy perked up. "Melles?"

"Nan. Áhwæðer Melles gád gehríered." No. Someone Melles wants destroyed.

"Ac?" Why?

Julian struggled for the words. "Nú Melles áblycgan léodcyning canne ástyntan Cás." Because Melles is afraid that this King can stop Empire.

Shored grinned ferally, and Julian felt encouraged.

"Cyst thou helpe?" Will you help?

The boy's demeanor turned around again. He withdrew into himself, looking afraid. Julian felt pity for this young boy, who had been taken away from his home and everything he knew, and didn't understand why. The adults couldn't even comfort him, because they didn't know why, themselves. Only that Shored was going to play a major role in the upcoming war with the Empire.

"Shored? Ǽghwæt wyrs?" Shored? What is wrong?

Shored didn't answer but began to rock back and forth slowly.

"Shored?"

The boy remained silent, and now had his lower lip between his teeth.

"Shored?"

"Shored?"

The strange man wouldn't leave him alone, but Shored really wished that he would.

Ever since the horse- Gaelan, his mind corrected- had brought him here, adults wearing strange clothing had been bothering him day and night, asking about the Soul Stone. Could they see it, why did he have it, why did he take 'Tremane's' soul, why wouldn't he put 'Tremane's' soul back?

:Chosen?: Gaelan asked gently.

:Go away.:

:Chosen:Gaelan persisted. :Why won't you talk to him?:

:Why do you call me Chosen: Shored countered.

:Because you are,: Gaelan said simply. :You are my Chosen.: There was an outpouring of love from the stallion, which Shored tried to resist.

:Stop that!: he shouted at the Companion, scrunching his face up in concentration. The man stared at him.

:Stop what?: Gaelan asked, innocent sweetness oozing from his voice.

:That. . . love thing. I don't need it, and I don't want it.:

:Why?:

:Because I don't! I'm a big b- an adult, and I don't need a horse bothering me all the time.:

Gaelan said:I don't care how adult you think you are, and how adult you think. You're a four-year old boy. You're younger than everyone else in this castle. You're alone in a strange place. We can make some decisions for you. And I love you, Shored. You need love.:

:Don't,: Shored insisted, chewing his lip until it hurt.

:You do. I don't know what they told you in the Empire, but here, four-year old boys are not expected to make their own decisions or go condemning people to death.:

:W-what?: Shored asked, startled.

:If you do not give them the pendant- Soul Stone, then their King will die.:

:'Tremane'?:

:Yes, Tremane. His soul is in the stone. They've been telling you that for two days; haven't you been listening?:

:I don't speak their language. You tried to teach me it, but I can't understand much yet. For the past two days, they've been saying something about killing me, and one of the first ones that spoke to me said that in order to put the King's soul back, I need to die. I think everyone else just agrees with that.:

:Of all the-: Gaelan began, then softened. :No, you don't have to die. All we need to know is if you can put it back or not.:

That only confirmed Shored's worst fears. :They are going to kill me.:

:Why?:

:I can't put it back.: