One of a Kind

Disclaimer: Don't own it, so don't sue.

A/N: The italics weren't working for the last chapter or two, so I've re-uploaded them. Sorry this has taken a while, but I've had a case of that which is the bane of an author's life - of writer's block. Oh, and as someone noticed before, the whole "why do you enjoy irritating me" thing last chapter was taken from ever after - great movie. And now - on with the story!

Chapter Sixteen: Return to Drell

Shannyn put down her lacework at a rap on the door, re-appearing a moment later with a grim looking Liam behind her. Alanna looked up from her letter, smiling. "Hello Liam."

Liam smiled back, though rather unconvincingly, and plopped into an armchair without waiting for an invitation.

Alanna frowned. "What's wrong - you look like someone just died."

Liam exhaled loudly. "The king has requested that I go to Drell with the army."

Alanna bit her lip. "We're going to Drell?"

Liam looked at her. "Perhaps. I certainly will be - but I don't know about you."

"I'm not going? Why not?"

Liam rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "You're very well trained, Alanna, but I'm not really sure I want you in the middle of a war - you're only sixteen, after all." He held up a hand as Alanna opened her mouth to protest. "It's far more dangerous than one-on-one combat, Alanna, and you've had little experience in large fights. The knights here have been trained to work as a unit - Shang are solitary creatures."

"You don't think I can handle it."

"I didn't say that - I said that I wouldn't want to put someone with your experiences into a war."

Alanna lifted her chin. "Well I'm damned if I'm going to sit 'round all summer while you and my brother and everyone else gets to go and -"

"Risk their lives on a daily basis?"

She scowled. "I do that anyway."

"Not on this level."

"Well how am I going to get this experience you're talking about if I don't go?" she exploded. "You supposed to be teaching me all forms of combat - how can I learn about war if I don't experience it?"

Liam stood up, eyes blazing pure emerald. "Fine!" He snapped back. "But don't blame me when you don't enjoy the experience!"

***

"Drell's not far from here," Thom informed her, standing up in his stirrup's to get a better bearing. "Just over this rise you can see where we're camped."

Alanna nodded. "What is it like?"

"Last time we were here, it was nice, if you like the outdoors. Good grazing land all through the valley, which is half the reason Duke Hilam -"

"Don't you mean King Ain?" Alanna interrupted.

Her twin shook his head. "No - Duke Hilam's the one that's directing the army, and the king's advisor."

"So what's the other half?"

"Pardon?"
"If the grazing lands half the reason for the war, what's the other half?"

"It'll give him a toehold on Tortall," Sir Myles informed her, dropping back from where he'd been talking to Jonathan in the front of the column of riders. Alanna had met him the first time when she called on Thom in his rooms, and the old knight had provided much of the theory and reasons behind the wars Liam taught her about. "The duke's ambitious - his brother only wants to be left in his pleasure gardens to enjoy his drugs, wine and women - which are mostly the reasons he has no queen or heir. His brothers - mainly Hilam, run the country for him, so since he's already the unofficial king, Hilam turns his ambition to building an empire - and the river will give him a way into Tortall, slowly nibbling away at our borders unless he is stopped."

"We're here." Thom murmured.

"Yes - to stop him." Alanna said.

"No - I meant we're at Drell - there's the waterfall, see?" He said, pointing.

"Oh," Alanna bit her lip - there was an uneasiness about the place she couldn't seem to shake off. The army trailing in from Tusaine resembled a spider, lurking on the river, waiting to pounce, and Alanna shuddered.

"Something wrong?"

"No - I'm just - I'm just cold, that's all."

Thom glanced sideways at his twin. There was something more, but he had enough experience to know not to pry when Alanna wanted whatever it was to be kept secret.

***

King Roald had sent Liam along as an advisor for Jonathan, so when they set up camp, Jon, Gary, Raoul, Myles and all their respective squires set their tents clustered close together. Liam's tent was also in this cluster, but Alanna's was set slightly apart for propriety's sake. She had just finished getting everything organised into it and was planning on going and taking a look around, when she heard a thump on the heavy canvas wall of the tents.

"Oi, 'Lanny, are you coming to lunch?"

She poked her head out the tent door, smiling sarcastically at Thom's glaring face.

"Thanks - but I might give it a miss - I'm not really hungry."

Not hungry? After that ride? Are you sick, 'Lanny?"

"Sick? Who's sick?" Queried Jon, having come up close enough to have heard Thom's last words.

Alanna shook her head. "No one's sick - I'm just a little tired after the ride, is all."

Jon frowned. "Are you sure? You look pale."

Alanna made a face, discomforted by his uncharacteristic concern. "I'm always pale - go to lunch."

Jon hesitated, and Thom grabbed his arm. "C'mon, Jon, don't defy my sister - you'll regret it."

***

Liam roared his battle cry, his sword cutting heavily into the shoulder of the man below him, chain mail and all. Thom glanced over squeamishly, and Alanna swore, flinging up her shield to block the mace that swung towards her brother's unprotected head.

"Thom!" She shrieked, her high voice clear above the clash of battle. "Shield yourself!" The priestess's old sword was out, flickering in the light of torches flung to the ground and fires starting amongst the forest litter, the ancient runes on it gleaming and seeming to slide along it. She flung up her shield again, stabbing low beneath it, and couldn't quite suppress the sick feeling she experienced feeling it slide free with a horrible sucking sound.

She was so intent upon fighting her way back to her twin, who she had been separated from by the knight with the mace, that she hardly noticed the wild Tusaine yells, until she glanced up and realised that Thom and Jon, along with Liam, Myles, and Raoul and Gary, who had stuck by Jon's side from the moment battle began, were being herded away from theTortallan army. Luna shied to one side as a flung axe connected with a tree near them, flinging them to the edge of the flighting, and Alanna spurred her desperately through the trees, galloping along the shallow side of the river in a cloud of mist, Luna whirling round on her hind legs to crash down on the soldiers beneath them, Alanna brandishing her sword high as fought alongside her brother and friends.

She twisted to hack towards a Tusaine knight's unguarded neck as he struck towards the little group, and felt a sword  from an unseen opponent slice along her unprotected side.  She fell forward, gasping as her blood soaked Luna's palely shining neck.

Though a bloody mist, she heard cheering, felt strong hands lift her gently off Luna, the unmistakable shimmer of healing magic pulsing through her, before the blackness of sleep enveloped her.

***

"Why can't I get up? I'm fine!" Alanna insisted to Duke Baird. He, however, shook his head.

"You'll be fine in a few days, but right now, I want you back in bed so you don't stretch yourself and open that scar again - you'll be in bed for a lot longer if you do."

While the healer in Alanna knew he was right, she fretted at her forced inactivity.

"Can't I at least do something?"

The duke shook his head. "Tomorrow, maybe. It depends on how cooperative you are. Now get some rest, young lady - I have other patients to attend to."

Still grumbling, Alanna lay back. Jon entered the tent as Baird left, and sat down on a small stool near the bed. "Feeling better?"

Alanna made a face. "Much - Baird won't let me up, though."

Jon leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not surprised. That was a nasty wound, what I saw of it when I got you down."

Alanna sat bolt upright. "That was you?"

He nodded. "Don't look so surprised - you're my friend, why shouldn't it have been me?"

Alanna shrugged, lying back on her pillows. "No reason. Why're you here - I get the feeling you're not just simply visiting a somewhat under the weather friend?"

He grimaced. "You're right - we beat Tusaine in that last battle, the one you were injured in, and now they want to discuss peace terms. The place is going to be a castle amongst these disputed lands - a Tortallan count's. I was hoping you'd be well enough to attend, seeing as how you have some - interesting - viewpoints on certain things. Did you bring a dress?"

Alanna's mouth fell open. "A dress? Honestly, Jon, I'm hardly likely to bring a dress along to a war, now am I?"

He grinned. "Well, in that case I'm sure the Contessa won't mind having her dressmaker make up a gown for you - "

"If I'm there as a warrior, Jon, I'm going to be there in tunic and breeches, not a gown!"

He shrugged. "Ah, well, you see, I would prefer it if you wore a dress - it'd make you somewhat less conspicuous, and I don't want you earmarked by the Tusaine as one of the people on their assassins' hit list's. Think of it as being one of Myles' agents."

"Well then how am I supposed to give you my opinion's if I'm playing the part of a giggling, empty-headed lady?"
He bit his lip, fighting a grin. "I thought it would be obvious - simply fawn over me for the durations of the talks."

"Fawn over you? Like - like Delia? I'm not doing that!"

He shrugged and rose. "I guess I shouldn't have asked - it'd probably be to difficult for you."

"What? It would not be, and I'll prove it!" Alanna clamped her mouth shut, suddenly, realising she'd fallen for Jon's bait.

He grinned. "Of  course you can - we'll be leaving tomorrow, or that day after if you're not up to it by then. Rest up while you can, lady Shang."

***

Alanna composed her face to a calm, if pale mask, forcing her seething irritation with Jon to the back of her mind, and sipped at her champagne. Jon had explained her presence to the Tusaine as the foster-daughter of Count Graeme and Countess Nicole, her 'aunt', who had raised her after her parents died in a tragic carriage accident when she was a child.

The peace talks had, as was the custom in the eastern lands, started with a 'small' party, before tomorrow, when they would get down to the serious business of discussing terms. She had been clinging to Jon's arm like a limpet since the first guests had begun to arrive, envying Thom, who had performed a minor spell to change how others saw his face just enough that their relation was not blindingly obvious.

As the last course was cleared away, the musician's struck up, and Jon lead her out into the square space between the long tables around the sides of the hall. Leaning close to her, he whispered, "Well?"

She smiled at a passing couple, and stood on tiptoe. "Hilam's a stuck up old - well, you know what I mean, and most of his entourage don't seem overly bright. It's my guess he's the sort of man who likes to think himself intelligent, and so he surrounds himself with appropriate companions. He was very patronising before, so he likes his women as pretty ornaments to his wealth and power - nothing more. The viscount seems to be one of the few intelligent ones here, from what I can tell. He's quiet, and observant. I couldn't get much out of him on his views about the war. I'd watch out for the old lord with the black beard - Ralph, I think his name was - he's got a mean look about him, and the sort of air that unsubtle ambitious people tend to have. I'll wager his young wife didn't marry him willingly - women only wear that sort of gown for two reasons - if they're very modest, or if they have bruises not meant to be seen. From the way she's acting, I'd guess the latter."

Jon nodded, his eyes cold. "I see." He raised her hand briefly to his lips as the dance ended, and a young Tusaine noble came to talk to him - about horses, it seemed.

She walked to one side, then turned and climbed up to the dais at the head of the hall for a better view. She frowned, realising she'd lost sight of Jon.

Thom? Thom, do you know where Jon is?

Huh? Oh - I saw him headed out with some noble fart a while ago towards the stables. I think they wanted to look at some horses to talk about some new trade agreement.

Alanna descended, sick anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Faithful leapt from somewhere unseen to her shoulder.

Hurry! he yowled in her ear, and, as soon as they were clear of the hall, Alanna ran, sliding in her soft slippers and volumous skirts.

She rounded a corner, and freezing for a moment at the sight of Jon struggling with the young noble. Alanna rushed forward, kicking the knife out of his hands with a fierce battle yell, and using the same spin to knock him to the ground.

Jon yelled behind her and she spun to see another dark-clothed assailant slam into his back. He staggered sideways, and Alanna's heart leapt into her throat as a slim-bladed throwing knife lodged itself in his shoulder. She turned, her fist slamming into the temple of the first man, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious or dead - she didn't wait to find out. She spun again, to dispose of the second man, but somehow, despite his left arm dangling uselessly at his side, Jon had stabbed him.

Jonathan groaned and leaned back against the wall, reaching for the hilt of the dagger imbedded in his shoulder.

"No! Don't pull it out, you'll only make it worse."

He grimaced in pain but did as she told him. Alanna knelt to check the pulse of the first man, noting that he'd be unconscious for at least the next hour or so with the sort of blow she had administered. Nonetheless she tore strips out of her gown, binding the green velvet tightly around the hands and feet of both men, before returning to Jon.

"Can you walk?" she demanded.

He looked up. "Nothing's wrong with my legs - I'll manage."

"Good." She replied shortly. "We have to go."

She slung one of Jon's arms across her shoulder's, allowing him to lean on her as they went down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and into Alanna's rooms - probably the safest place for the prince right at that moment.

Locking the door, she leant against it and closed her eyes, drawing on her Gift.

Thom?

Alanna? Where are you? What's wrong?

Tell the guards to move in and capture the Tusaine nobles.

Thom's tone was tinged with disbelief. What? But - but what about the truce?

Tusaine forfeited the truth when it attacked Jon a few minutes ago.

 They what? They attacked Jon?

Yes - the guards, Thom.

Are you both alright?

I'm fine, but Jon got a dagger in his left shoulder. The guards? She prompted, before breaking the connection.

Alanna looked at Jon, seated on the sofa, his face pale, and bit her lip.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

She sighed. "Take off your shirt - I'll need to see your shoulder if I'm going to treat that." she said, and went to gather her small supply of bandages and herbs, hot water, and a candle.

She seated herself next to him, and pulled out a needle and thread, heating the needle in the candle flame. Bracing herself, she reached for the small silver hilt still lodged in Jonathan's shoulder, and pulled it out, feeling decidedly sick as her friend's blood bubbled up out of it. Dipping a bandage in the herb-scented water, she washed it carefully, and threaded the needle. Jon leaned back.

"What are you doing."

She looked at him, purple gaze frank. "That's going to need sewing up."

He made a face at her. "My skin is nothing like cloth, Alanna."

"I know that - I'm a trained healer, remember?"

He grimaced and lay back, and Alanna carefully began to stitch closed the wound. He grunted a few times, but otherwise let out no sign of the considerable pain he must have been in.

Lathering an ointment over it, carefully applying her Gift as she did so, Alanna reached for bandages.

"You'll have a scar." She commented. "There's old scar tissue underneath it anyway."

Jon winced slightly. "Another relic of this war - I was shot last summer."

Alanna raised her eyebrows, but said nothing as he pulled his bloodstained shirt and tunic on.

"The Tusaine down at the party -"

"Are no longer socialising. I had Thom tell the guards to arrest them."

Jon stared at her. "How?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "It's an aspect of our Gifts - they're linked, so we can talk to one another through them."

***

After checking that Jon was, as ordered by both herself and Duke Baird, resting, Alanna headed back down to the hall where he had been attacked. Royal guards in gold and red livery were removing the two would-be assassins, both still unconscious. Alanna felt sick as she saw a dark patch of blood pooled on the floor, and grabbed her emberstone for reassurance. An orange light surrounded both assassins, and Alanna felt worse - what did that mean?

A member of the guard looked over, and, seeing her, walked over.

"Ye'd best go, milady -  this ain't no place for a noble lady such's yerself."

Alanna walked back down the corridor, but not to her rooms. Instead, she went to the adjoining rooms Thom and Myles shared.

***

Alanna touched the stone. Thom stood before her, now awash with a violet aura.

"The stone works like a revealing spell," she told both him and Myles. "It shows me where there is or has been magic. And there was magic around the assassins - but it wasn't their Gifts, if they had any. It was a spell."

Myles nodded. "A spell to make them try to kill Jonathan. Well then, we must determine who would want to cast such a spell."

"Tusaine?"

Myles shook his head. "What would that do? True, in the disorder they might be able to seize the valley, but King Roald would soon mount a counter-attack in revenge - it's much too blatant to be of any advantage - the blood would so obviously be on their hands that there would be no way they could absolve themselves of doubt."

"Who would want Jon dead, though - he hasn't made any powerful enemies."

Thom shook his head. "You're thinking too personally - it'd be more like who'd want the crown prince of Tortall dead, and the answer is, someone who wants the throne, and saw in this a convenient way to it."

"But then Roger would be the heir, so it can't be any minor nobles unless they were planning to kill him too -" Alanna stopped, aghast at the realisation.

What colour was the magic? Thom's mental tone was sharp.

Orange. Why?

The duke has an orange Gift.

Though he could not have been aware of what they said, Myles shook his head gravely. "The duke is a powerful man - it would not be wise to make accusations without incontestable proof of his guilt."

Alanna and Thom nodded as one, knowing what he meant, but did not say.

***

Alanna smoothed her skirt nervously as the negotiations came to an end for the day. The nobles taken hostage after Jon's attempted assassination had been ransomed to Tusaine - the price, peace and the valley, as well as an amount of lands on the other side to add to the holdings of the nobles along the border.

Jon patted her arm from beneath the table. "Don't look so nervous - you're the hero here, remember?"

Alanna nodded, reassured by the touch, and looked up.

Duke Roger looked at her from across the table, his eyes cold and hard as ice, and she repressed a shudder. Whatever it was, she vowed as she left the table, she would find out what he was up to and stop it.

Good. Commented Faithful from her shoulder. He needs to be.