Ah! I have so many little tidbits and random events in my head for this fic! I just got to figure out a way to incorporate them in a plot… Well here's one shot at incorporating a random little bit of info in a plot!

I won't even go into the initial meeting and explanation, it was pretty much what you'd expect. People fainting, called me a demon, drawing the sign on their chests, and a general panic. In two words, highly comical! After the widespread confusion resided, we were invited to meet with the Lord or whatever to get our posts. Unfortunately, we didn't get that far. As we were walking over to the main building, a scout yelled

"Scanrans to the North of us!"

Everyone quickly ran to their posts and began to armor up and buckle on swords etcetera. Owen's warhorse, after being left behind in the grand entrance, was quickly retrieved and saddled up. Me and Owen (or is it Owen and I?) went over to the front wall to see what we could do. One of the officer type people (well it's not like I've been living here all my life, how am I supposed to know what the higher authorities are called and how they look like?) began to give out orders to people to position themselves. Seems like there was a considerable force approaching. I wasn't really one for waiting for an enemy to approach, and besides, it would give the Tortallans (my spell-check wanted to make it Tortillas! Hehehehe!) an edge if the enemy was a bit picked off and scared before the battle. I jumped onto Shaylee and disappeared into the walls.

I was surprised that the Scanrans could muster up such a large army without Maggur or Blayce to keep them together. An army that size could overrun the fort easily. I think that they literally got together every last warrior in an attempt to at least conquer one fort. I think it was a more pride thing because what on earth did they think they were doing? Males and their macho-ism. Re-enforcements would come soon, wouldn't they?

I shrugged off these thoughts and decided to concentrate on the battle ahead. I strung up my bow and grabbed an arrow from my quiver. I tried to shoot from horseback, ugh, no good. Well there's at least ONE thing I'm not good at. I quickly dismounted and realized that using my bow was impossible. I couldn't keep Shaylee safe and shoot at the same time. Urgh! I put everything away, mounted up and charged into the masses with my sword drawn. The Scanrans never knew what hit 'em, literally. Oh that was a cheesy line but it was so tempting to use. Surprisingly their formations held. Whatever discipline the officers used, it worked! Most likely beatings… or promises of riches. Greed will transform any man, or woman.

No matter how much I sliced and diced though, I was hardly decimating their numbers at all. It'd probably take me a week to finish every last one of them, even if they stood nicely in a line, like schoolboys. They were going to annihilate Mastiff, as large and well fortified as it was, soon. Very soon. I vainly listened for any horn calls that MIGHT have signaled re-enforcements, but not knowing the codes, I wouldn't be able to tell whose they were. I doubted that Mastiff had had a chance to send out a runner amidst THIS carnage. Should I stay here and keep fighting, or should I leave and get help? If I stayed the chances of Mastiff being saved were slim, but if I went, where would I go? Who would believe me? I didn't even know the terrain or where the nearest fort was. I mulled all this over as I hacked away at the Scanrans like a weed-whacker on crack.

I galloped back towards Mastiff, hoping to find SOMEONE who could tell me where to go for help. The only person I could find and recognize among the slaughter was Owen. I sure hoped he knew where I could go. I put a hand on his shoulder to keep him safe while I spoke to him. In muted whispers I asked,

"I'm going to get help. Where's the nearest place I can go. The border can't afford for this place to fall."

"Head southwest, along the road bordering the Vassa. You should hit Fort Steadfast before long. I doubt re-enforcements will get here on time but, it's been a jolly fight!"

With that raised his sword and with a wild yell, plunged back into battle. I fairly leapt onto Shaylee and we galloped out of there for all we were worth. Again we ran, only this time, I was ever so aware of the minutes ticking by. After what seemed an age, I sighted a blot in the distance that could only be Steadfast. Thanking the gods that my horse wasn't tired, I urged her into an even faster gallop, if that was even possible. I didn't know exactly WHY I was so concerned about people I didn't know or care about, but hey, if you're gonna get involved in something, really get into it.

I finally neared the gates and out of force of habit, I flinched and slumped lower in my saddle, trying not be seen. My legs were so sore from the ride (yes I was tireless, but have you ever wondered why cowboys have bow-legs? It's from riding all day. And trust me, riding all day HURTS!) I finally slowed to a canter while in the walls. I had no idea who was in charge of the place so I rode up to the nearest important looking fellow and materialized.

To say the least, he was astonished. Here he was sipping his water and here I appear, a dishelved, bloody, sweaty, dirty girl on a blood-spattered horse. I occasionally had to flicker to hide the blood dripping off my sword, and in doing so, let ample opportunity for errant blood spatters to hit me in the split second that I was visible.

"Mastiff is being attacked. They can't hold out much longer. They need re-enforcements and fast!"

He took one look at me and raced off to find his commander I suppose. I for one, had no idea what to do. Should I stay and convince them to come, or should I trust that they believed me and leave to help with the fight again? Fortunately I didn't have time to deliberate much longer. I heard shouts and soldiers arming up.

An important looking noble walked up to me briskly and began grilling me on what position Mastiff was in. As I explained, his face grew grave. He barked out more orders, telling everyone, save a few defenders to arm up and get into their squads. He was leaving this fort vulnerable to a two pronged attack, but it was necessary. I doubted that the Scanrans had more than a raiding party to throw at Steadfast, and saving Mastiff was vital. Quicker than I ever thought possible, the soldiers and knights were ready to go. As they rode and marched out, I gave them one last look, ghosted, and began to ride.

I ignored the lances of pain shooting up my legs and grimly held on, even more thankful that I wouldn't get tired and fall off. By the time I reached Mastiff, the battle was still raging, though the situation was more of a stand-off, with Mastiff defending from behind it's walls and the Scanrans re-grouping to strike again. I could only pray that the Steadfast re-enforcements would come here soon. I glanced at the Scanrans and decided to put off that attack for as long as possible. I charged wildly into their ranks cutting down everyone in my path. I had only mowed through precious few Scanrans when I saw a familiar brown mop of hair on the ground. Keeping one hand on Shaylee I peered closer. The man was wearing Jesslaw colors and was breathing. Barely. I flickered long enough to make him disappear along with me and hoisted him onto my saddle, his head resting on Shaylee's neck. Keeping one hand on both of them, I walked back over to Mastiff. Owen picked his head up slightly and managed to say (albeit weakly)

"One of the jolliest fights I've ever been in, don't you agree?"

"You decided to take on the entire army single handedly didn't you?" I demanded accusingly

"Never. Just one squad is all." He closed his eyes and blacked out.

I took that time to really assess his wounds. His right arm was hanging limply, with a deep gash in the shoulder. His back was torn, his abdomen riddled with small cuts, and his left thigh was still bleeding sluggishly. He was covered in mud, dirt, and blood, so I couldn't tell if the blood caked and soaked into his hair, tunic and breeches was his, or someone else's. I dropped him off at the healers' building, which was already full of groaning soldiers, and went out for more casualties, being the only one who could bring them back safely.

I pitilessly picked through the carnage, trying to find Tortallan soldiers and knights who were still fix-up-able and who had and chance at a recovery. At best, I managed to pile two men at a time on my horse and bring them back into Mastiff. On my third trip I glanced warily over my shoulder. The Scanrans were going to strike any moment now. I hurried back into the masses, waving my sword, screaming ferally, trying to frighten them out of their ranks and careful formations. I was still plunged in the army when I heard the horn calls.

I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back, my muscles screaming in pain from over-use. I hobbled back to Mastiff, wanting desperately to sit down, using my sword as a crutch. Why didn't I hurt that much after practically 3 weeks of straight riding? Was I too mesmerized and enchanted by the journey, the steady beating of the run to notice?

The sounds of battle ringing in my ears, too sore to stand, I found a nice secluded, safe-looking corner and sat. I solidified and suddenly the exhaustion I should have been feeling hit me. Trusting my body to flicker when needed to protect me from flying projectiles, my eyes drooped closed.

OK Ok, so there wasn't a HUGE revelation in this chapter, but there will be in the next, which will be devoted solely to her dreams (I think) Just hang tight, it'll come soon.