Notes --- I admit, I have a soft spot for the former Rogue, and he's SO MUCH FUN writing!

Disclaimer --- While I do wish that I had a hand in writing up the Tortallan universe, we all know that the ever-fabulous Tamora Pierce was its sole creator. So yeah, I don't own these characters. At all.

Chapter 15
Shadows

George waited for his vision to adjust in the darkness. Kyprioth had placed him in the middle of some dark, cavernous tunnel, and it took a good deal of time to focus his eyes to the path before him. Thin light passed through tiny cracks on the walls, traveling and in turn disappearing as it touched the tunnel surface. There were so very few of these sheaves of streaking light, however, that it was still too difficult to make out anything completely. The baron checked his possessions to make sure that they were still undamaged.

Beside him, a purple-eyed cat yowled with displeasure. Gods. Always the need for ostentation.

"You complain much about them, for all you're one and the same," George replied in a soft whisper.

There's a distinct difference between myself and the likes of Kyprioth. Faithful haughtily sauntered off ahead of the former Rogue. Come, it can't be that far.

"Slow down, Faithful," George told the cat, knowing full well that the immortal being can hear his whisper from yards away. "I can feel the tinglin' down my spine. And I don't like that feelin'."

It was true. Though his Gift wasn't particularly strong, he could feel the tunnel itself vibrating with large quantities of menacing power. He'd felt this a few times before, and those had been major obstacles in the past. Twice it had involved one sorcerer out for power. The last time...well, Carthak was the least of his worries now.

George made sure that the sword was still belted to his side and the staff firmly placed behind him (he'd neglected to ask Kyprioth if there was a way to carry the staff without actually carrying it, like he'd seen Numair do a few times before). The last object—the one the Crooked God had told him to conceal within his body, was tucked neatly beneath the folds of his tunic. Satisfied that it was still in place, he set out after the Cat, carefully treading through the tunnel.

There was one advantage to Kyprioth having given his Chosen this responsibility. Even the gods would have a hard time hearing his footsteps in the uncanny silence.

The first thing that warned George that he was not alone was the blatant argumentative voices floating through the hollow canvases of the cave. It wasn't far off, though he couldn't exactly hear what the angry voices were going on about. Just a few yards off, Faithful stood on edge, the hairs on his back bristled with tension.

Careful, George Cooper, Faithful told him. These are the lesser Ysandir, but it is still advisable not to be seen as of yet.

As if George needed any more reason to remain in the shadows. Slowly, he made his way to where Faithful climbed and stayed there, honing his ears to listen in on the argument ahead.

"...will bring us to complete ruin," one voice, a female, hissed. "The great queen protected us to complete our task. What they are planning is utter madness!"

"Careful not to have reason to quarrel with them, Ylira," this one was male, his voice deep and thunderous. He barely raised his voice, but George felt every word he spoke contained a hint of warning to the woman. "We do as we are ordered."

"Must we follow blindly?! Do you remember the utter ruin Ylon and Ylanda have led us to? Imagine a young lion and a girl playing knight defeating us with flimsy weapons and their weak Gifts!"

The man replied in a low murmur, something that even George couldn't hear. But it must have been an insult, because the female Ysandir began to screech.

"How dare you! HOW DARE—" another voice erupted from further down into the cavern, cutting the female's objections short. George couldn't exactly understand what was being said; perhaps they had switched to a different language, an older, more profound one. He nudged Faithful. "Do you understand them?"

The cat's tail swished from side to side, but he remained silent. Within minutes, the two Ysandir had returned to their post, though the conversation had stopped. Faithful turned his purple eyes at Kyprioth's Chosen. This is where we part ways, George Cooper.

George nodded, his stomach wrenched with apprehension. He knew what he was supposed to do, but it still gave him the chills that he'd be the one with the responsibility. And he couldn't very well ignore his god's calling after all these years of servitude. Without another word, the baron of Pirate's Swoop crept through the shadows, awaiting Faithful's diversion.

With an air of pride and vanity, Faithful trumped off towards the direction of Ylira and her male companion. From where George hid, he could glimpse the Ysandir, who were standing in front of a passage, hand in hand, their figures emanating a faint, glowing aura. The female was dressed in a long, sultry red gown. Her face was pale and beautiful, but for the ugly sneer plastered after having noticed the overconfident cat coming up to them. Ylira's male companion was a thin, wiry-looking man; his face was also remarkably unblemished and as youthful as the woman whose hand he was holding. The man's robes were a dark grey, and they clung loosely around his thin body. George took in their appearances and committed them to memory. He knew he'd be facing one of them in the end, from the looks of things.

"What is the likes of you doing in the Divine Realms, little kitten?" Ylira spat out, contemptuous. "Do you come with an army of constellations before you? Or perhaps your dear masters and mistresses?"

"Ylira," the man said, turning to her, a bemused look on his face. "The little cat knows he cannot summon up an army to find us. The princes and princesses must do it on their own, and none of them dare venture forth into the Chaos vents. Not without reason."

George shivered when he heard this. So this was where they were hiding? The Chaos vents? Then they were at the entrance to the Chaos Realms. There weren't very many stories about this Realm, but when he was living in the Lower City, he had heard oaths muttered about this place. As the Rogue of Corus, he was dealt a fair share of curses from the Rats disloyal to the Court of the Rogue. Often they let out a string of expletives damning him and his mother to the Chaos Realms as he ordered their ears cut off. They never got very far after they'd insulted his mother.

Whether or not Faithful replied to the Ysandir's statements was unknown to George, who didn't hear anything from the Cat. It was odd that the two beautiful creatures felt no inkling to want to attack the feline, but if anything, George knew not to let his surprises get in the way of what he ought to do. He steeled himself after what was about to come next.

Ylira was shouting, surprise etched onto her face as the cat lunged at her robes and began scratching her. Caught unawares, the Ysandir made the most fundamental of mistakes—something George and Faithful were counting on to happen.

She let go of her companion's hand.

There was a rushing sound at the severance of Ysandir magic. The entrance—the one George had been meaning to slip through—was unguarded as the male Ysandir tried to wrestle Faithful's strong grasp away from beautiful Ylira. Now while you still can, Chosen!

George didn't wait for the sentence to end before he began moving. Using the cave's dark shadows, he sidled his way just behind the Ysandir. Ylira and the male were distracted to the side, an elementary mistake that the baron would have severely punished his thieves for making. He shot a crooked grin at the cat, knowing full well that Faithful was too distracted to see it. Then he slipped through, blending into the darkness.

The big problem that faced Alanna and her friends was the attempt at scrambling through the tunnels without falling and impaling oneself onto piles of sharp rock. Things grew more difficult when the caves were clearly not designed for people over six feet. Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle at Numair's obvious discomfort after an hour of trekking through with his head bowed. He noticed the others weren't having the same type of trouble. Even Thom and he were just the right height to pass through.

Fortunately for the raven-haired sorcerer, the ceiling of the caves began to rise slightly as they moved further. It was only a matter of time before he was finally standing straight, to his apparent relief.

The only other problem lay in the lack of light inside the cave. Thom's reddish-purple Gift and Jon's sapphire blue lit the front and back of the group cluster. It was still inadequate to see too far ahead. All of them had traveled in silence; most conversation took place in their heads. It was a useful skill, though perhaps it was easily managed because they were in the Immortal Realms.

When they managed through a slightly larger chamber, they stopped. Thom was already spelling the exit and entrance to the chamber shut so they could rest for a few minutes.

"It looks like some sort of struggle occurred here," Alanna murmured, examining the ground. "A magical one at that. Somebody's been scorched."

"Can you tell if it's someone we know?" Numair inquired. It was his way of asking if she could tell whether it was George or not. He didn't dare mention the possibility of his mortal peril outright.

The lady knight shook her head. "I'd considered that, but this was a smaller target." She was pointing at the burnt spot, her stoic gaze turned towards the opening nearby. "Either the creature was burned, or it managed to escape. Whoever was around here must be long gone through the rest of the caves by now."

Those who knew Alanna well enough also knew that trying to comfort her now would only embarrass her. She always tried so hard not to succumb into despair and mourning. There was a moment's pause, and he had hesitated, but Jon came forward and hugged the Lioness around her shoulders. She tried to shrug it off, but he was adamant, so she merely stood there, reddening at the touch of concern on her king's face.

"Alanna," Numair said, watching her carefully.

"Yes?" she replied, refusing to turn her head, for fear that the rest might see the tears she was dreading would fall from her violet eyes.

"We'll find him."