Author's Note: Thank you to all who sent such kind reviews. I'm sorry I didn't update for so long; I was on a quite long road trip. Also, to correct a mistake from the previous chapter, it turns out there has been a King Roger in Tortall. Max, unknowingly, is referring to Duke Roger of Conte. I do not own anything or anyone in this story.

One day earlier:

Max felt the shadow of the angel of death behind her. She turned, smiled, and said, "Hey, Fang."

Fang, who had more than once posed as the angel of death, asked, "Mind if I join you?"

As it's exceptionally hard to make someone go away at five thousand feet without knocking them out of the sky, Max slowed down so they were flying side by side. Her usual joy at flying for pleasure (as opposed to flying from certain death) swelled to be with Fang. The sunset was staining the clouds wild hues of orange, pink, and purple against the sky.

They landed silently on a sandstone cliff. There were no other humans or even mostly-humans around for miles. Max didn't bother to fold in her wings. A thought struck her, and worry kicked in; it was an emotion that she'd only let two people ever see: Fang and her mother.

"What?" Fang asked, sensing her concern.

Max tried for a grin. "You, me, and deserts don't mix. Every time we're alone in the desert, the flock gets kidnapped, or my mom gets kidnapped…" She let her thought dissipate in the air.

Fang grinned back. When Fang smiled, it really mattered: it wasn't a common expression. "Nothing can happen. The flock is safe with your mother, Ella, and Jeb."

Contradiction was a reflex for Max. "How do you know? Jeb betrayed us once." Actually, approximately twenty times, but in the past year he found where his loyalties lay.

Fang rolled his dark eyes. Immediately, he froze. He said quietly. "Max. Seven o'clock. Hundred feet away."

Max casually turned her head around. Indeed, someone was approaching. It wasn't bulky enough to be an Eraser, it didn't have wings like a Flyboy, and move too fluidly to be an M-geek. That didn't mean it wasn't a threat. "Wait. Be ready for an up and away, but we'll see what it is."

As it turned out, the something was a man, in his early twenties. He wore odd orange robes that even fashion-clueless Max knew clashed horribly with his coppery hair. Fang snapped in his wings, but Max was less cautious. Anyone who wore robes in the Arizona heat and wandered in the desert had to be severely insane, and therefore wings would probably go unnoticed.

"Are you Max and Fang Ride?" The man asked. His accent was vaguely British.

The "oh crap" that Max always felt when someone knew their identities was as strong as ever. "We prefer Maximina and Fangmeister, ourselves." She said snidely.

The strange man smiled. "You're definitely the two I'm looking for. Allow me to make a campfire. I need to discuss something with you." Reddish-brown fire shot from his hand onto the ground, becoming a decent-sized normal-colored campfire.

Max was an expert at making total amazement looked like passive boredom. "Um, who are you? Not that we don't usually welcome random strangers to chat and sing a little Kumbaya."

He raised an eyebrow. "My name is Thom of Trebond. I am, if you wondered, a mage. I need your help."

"Aww, Fang, he needs our help." Max said, her voice dripping sarcasm.
Thom scowled, impatience in his unbelievably purple eyes. "Don't try me." A reddish-brown flame sprungin his outstretched palm.

"You said you needed to talk to us. Talk." Fang offered.

Thom extinguished the flame and said, "The realm where I come from, Tortall, is in grave danger. I've been looking for help for the past year. When I found Jeb Batchelder, he told me about you. He believes you can save my world."

Max felt sympathetic to people trying to save the world. "What's wrong?" She asked, almost kindly.

By the time Thom had finished his explanation of the danger that threatened Tortall, the sky was completely dark, and the fire proved very useful.

"So, how did you get here?" Max asked, slightly taken aback by the information.

Thom sighed. "I won't bore you with mage-talk. I learned in my research that if one has enough magic, it's possible to cross from my world to yours, and vice-versa. It's extremely difficult, though." He said with a wicked grin, "I had to steal King Roger's gift to be able to do it."

"Why can't you go save your own world, then, if you're so powerful?" Fang asked, his expression unreadable as usual.

"That's the problem. My self in Tortall is quite dead at the moment. That Thom died only a few minutes after I attempted the switch. I am trapped here. But I still am capable of sending others in my place."

The last question on Max's mind was posed. "Why do you need us?"
The flames seemed to grow slightly taller. "You are powerful, even more powerful than you realize."

"Gee, where have I heard that before?" Max whispered, sarcasm abandoning her.

"Max, Fang, you don't realize your importance. You're the only ones who can do this." Thom said solemnly. "Are you willing?"

Max and Fang looked at one another for a long time. "Why not?" Max finally asked.

Thom nodded. "This will take a second." Reddish flames streamed out of Thom's hands, quickly engulfing Max and Fang.