Notes --- I have realized that most of my chapters (minus the recent two) lost the "---" formatting between scenarios, which kind of irked me. I'm not sure if I want to go through the entire trouble of putting the formatting back for the previous chapters. Maybe I'll fix them when the entire story is over. Or maybe I'll just do a few more edits on the LJ version of my story.

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 16
Chances

Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop had absolutely no recollection of how he managed to make his way down to the secret lair of the Ysandir. In fact, if he was asked days later to relate the tousle that was about to happen down in those dark caves, even his good memory would have failed him. Everything had become a blur, much like the attack at the palace in Corus.

What George did remember was that his head ached for weeks on end, his body was littered with unseen bruises, and his hands were still recovering from burn marks. He had only been lucky to survive through the care of expert healers (and perhaps help from the heavens).

But he had no way of knowing what lay ahead as he continued further into the gloom. Once past a particular point, Kyprioth had warned him that he would be open for the Ysandir to see. George only hoped that he could buy enough time for the rest of his friends to get there.

The Ysandir were seated in a circle. There were thirteen of them spread out; protecting what appeared to be two sleeping bodies placed at the center, hands intertwined. Like Ylira and the other Ysandir before, these beings had angelic faces. Had George not known about the ill-will they bore, he might have been enchanted enough to leave them be. He needed to rid the circle of its powers if his friends stood any kind of chance.

"They need thirteen to keep Ylon and Ylanda where they are," Kyprioth had explained to him before. "Get rid of that power, and their defeat is more feasible."

More feasible. To him, that guaranteed nothing. But he had to try anyway. In the end, it would be Alanna and Jon who would have to finish what they started once and for all. And if he can make anything easier on his lass, he would be more than happy to oblige.

A faint whispering emerged from where the two slept, pervading into the room like the sound of a lingering bell. "Beware, brothers. Beware, sisters. He comes with their weapons."

The outer-circle Ysandir hissed violently. A few actually swiveled their heads, in search of this 'he'. Any lesser man would have cowered and fled at the sight, but George stood his ground. He took a deep breath and watched as the Nameless Ones searched for their intruder.

Behind the former Rogue, the staff grew warm. When it began to glow, he scrambled to unhook it from his back and held himself in a guarding position. George steadied the long staff before him, pointing it at an angle. If he was going to ruin the circle, he might as well take down as many of the lesser Ysandir he could with the staff Kyprioth gave him.

"Shijo will do the trick," Kyprioth nodded at the object he had collected from the Graveyard Hag. "The staff of death."

George didn't even need to do any tinkering with the staff himself. Unlike Lightning, this object of the gods so hated the presence of the Ysandir that it breathed a life of its own. It took a bit of effort for George to keep the staff positioned in one direction, and even more of an effort to hold it until all of its power manifested at the tip. The staff pleaded to be released, but George's hands tightened.

One of the Ysandir faced George. He raised both his arms, and instantaneously, George's fingers began to tremble. The baron grit his teeth and planted his feet steadily on the rocky surface of the caves. Just a little bit more...

He let the staff loose, just as the Ysandir slammed magical force down on the unfortunate baron. Like one of his knives, the staff whistled through the air, colliding into three Ysandir. The females shrieked and disappeared before his eyes. Meanwhile, the light emanating from Shijo burst, and the staff was rendered useless.

"I will not be able to accompany you to where the Ysandir lurk. So once you've broken the circle," Kyprioth's voice was solemn. "Run. Do you understand? Run!"

George stumbled backwards, groggy from the magic that hit him and the backlash of the staff's energy. His hands were numb. Once the baron regained his footing, however, he turned around to follow the last set of instructions given by the Trickster.

Hope dropped when he spotted the stunning red robes of Ylira as she stood at the cavern's only exit. He saw the anger in her beautiful eyes. He saw the slender hand pointed at him. And he watched, unmoving, as a burst of light shot forth from the tip of the Ysandir's finger.

There was nothing else that George Cooper could remember from the events after he'd gotten caught. Only that he heard his mouth give out a most excruciating scream.

It was this scream that sent Alanna furiously speeding ahead, her eyes filled with the coldest rage she could ever have mustered. She heard Thom's warning cries behind her, but she ignored them. If her friends weren't going to follow, then she'd have to do it alone.

Jon had already gone after her, Myscha following soon after. Alexa, however, had pulled Numair back. "You and Lord Thom should let them go. It is not our time to follow them. Not yet."

Thom raised an eyebrow but questioned nothing. Numair, however, was frowning. "If this is some sort of 'destiny,' I'm not very fond of it. Alanna is one of my dearest friends. And I owe George a great deal. You'd have to give me a better reason than destiny to prevent me from going after them."

The imperial princess's calm face turned away from Numair. Instead, she felt for the robes of the other sorcerer. "Please explain to him, Lord Thom."

"I'm afraid she's right," Thom said, though his face was sorry that he couldn't run after his twin sister. "Chances are the Ysandir are already on the move. We'd only get in the way, with the amount of Gift we have. I think your lady-friend also Saw something, didn't you, Alexa?"

Alexa nodded. She gripped her hand on Numair's wrist. "Please trust me."

Numair sighed. He hoped, more than once, that he wasn't just listening to her because he cared.

"George!" Alanna was horrified to see her husband lying helplessly on the ground. Near him stood two Ysandir with their arms outstretched; the light of their dark magic overflowed onto the baron's limp body.

The Lioness rushed to his side, only to be thwarted by the Ysandir standing over him. She managed to keep her balance with Jon's help, who was already at her side. The Tortallan king's eyes blazed a deep blue, and he let the Lioness go, charging towards the male Ysandir. Without using his Gift, the tall, raven-haired king slammed into his target, breaking the barrier holding George captive.

Once again, the lady knight hurried to the baron, who was slowly regaining consciousness. He was shaking as he tried to get up, and when he opened his mouth, a quiet, hoarse voice emerged. "Alanna?"

"You're alive!" she fought the tears away from her eyes. She'd been holding them back for hours, the Lioness would be damned if she lost it then and there! Instead, she tried to help him stand.

"No, please," he grabbed her hands and pulled them to his chest. "This is more important."

But whatever it was he tried to say would have to wait. A large roar had erupted from where Jon was, and Alanna remembered where she was. Cursing, the Lioness let George's hand go and turned to find her king, who was still wrestling the thin, male Ysandir down. The second Ysandir, a woman, was already struggling against Myscha, who had easily caught up behind his king. The others in the circle were starting to break free from their magical hold, and it would only be a matter of time before all of the Ysandir would overtake them.

She paled at the thought of being surrounded, helpless and alone. Alanna unsheathed her sword, but she found that George was pressing his own weapon at her side. The lady knight turned. "I've already got a sword."

"Alanna," he was still weak and groggy, though there was great determination in his hazel eyes. "Take this one. I'd be happier knowin' you've got a weapon blessed by the gods."

"But—"

"Don't argue," he interrupted. For a brief moment, she could see a bit of the old George coming back. He was grinning, even despite the obvious pain he was in. "For once, keep quiet and listen."

A part of her almost growled at being commanded in that way, but it was just a small reflex. They were in a crisis, after all. The baron of Pirate's Swoop grabbed his tunic and began pulling it away from his breeches. Alanna couldn't help but widen her eyes. "What...what are you doing?"

Once he'd finished unrolling the bottom half of the tunic, a small stone was resting neatly on his palm. It was slightly larger than Alanna's pendant, but no bigger than her fist. The stone glowed a deep, red-orange color. The light from it was getting brighter and brighter, and George closed Alanna's hand over it. "Ky—Faithful said it's the twin stone to the Dominion Jewel. Only this one is owned by the Black God."

Alanna shivered slightly, but her grip was steady around the stone. She nodded and momentarily gave her husband a hug. Without lingering for too long, the Lioness let go, smiling. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Not a chance," his face was set. "I'm not leavin' you when all hell's about to break loose."

"Yes you are," she told him adamantly. "And you don't argue this time."

The woman Ysandir that Myscha had been struggling with was now getting the upper hand. Her claws had grown longer, and she was just about to dig her weapons into Myscha's eyes when the red-headed lady knight slammed her to the side with the blunt edge of her newly acquired sword. George watched in awe as the weapon began to sing with triumph, Ylira quickly fading away into dust.

"Are you alright?" Alanna asked Myscha.

The lord of Tirragen nodded. "Thanks."

"Myscha, I need a favor."

George opened his mouth to protest. He had a feeling he knew what this favor was about. Alanna silenced him. Her purple eyes were still focused on the stocky Tirragen lord. "Can you get George out of here? This fight is mine and Jonathan's. You and he shouldn't get in the middle of things."

"I don't know, Alanna," Myscha said, doubt in his dark brown eyes. "Jonathan is my king, too. I couldn't just abandon him when I should be protecting him as well."

"You'll be protecting him," Alanna pointed to her husband. "Just get out."

The tone in which she uttered those words were too demanding to be disobeyed. Myscha sighed. "Help should be on the way. You and Jonathan may be formidable, but by the look of things, when the rest of the Ysandir break free of that circle, not even the two of you will be able to stop them."

"I'll take my chances," the Lioness replied stubbornly. "Go!"

There was a resounding crash. Everyone turned to the source and saw Jonathan panting heavily. The thin Ysandir had crumpled against the wall, unmoving. The king of Tortall had come out as the victor.

But that had been the final trigger.

Within moments, the Ysandir in the circle began to stand. Jonathan was already positioning himself into a defending stance, a technique he had learned studying from a Shang warrior. Alanna turned to stand by her king's side, pushing past George and Myscha.

"Goddess be with you both," George muttered before he was half-carried, half-dragged by the shorter, more muscled Myscha. The baron would have complained about the ill-treatment, but he could feel himself already slipping back into unconsciousness. The last glimpse he had was the blaring of deep orange, as Jonathan's hands joined with the Lioness's in order to battle with the Ysandir...

"Now."

"Can we?"

"Would you rather we wait a little longer?"

"Oh. In that case...come on!"

There was a shuffling of hurried feet as three powerful sorcerers headed towards the heat of battle.