(A/N:) Hello again, faithful readers. Just Number29 reporting on the progress of the story.

Before I go on, I'd like to state that if my submission of chapters seems unscheduled, you should probably know that they may not be submitted once a week as I had originally planned. There are certain forces, also known as my mother, that keep me from submitting my story to fanfiction, and I really cannot be blamed for that.

Keep reading, and you'll discover the greatness that is this story. I'll tell you later how long I'm planning on making it, for those who would like to know. (That pretty much means I have no idea as of now.)

Anyway, please keep reading. You've been doing so good so far! Don't give up now, that would be a shame to your reading and reviewing skills. You'd be ashamed if you read the prologue and then stopped reading here. It may be the first chapter, but be warned! Tons of action to come!

Oh, and before I forget, I do not have a spell, checker. If you find any words that you feel/know are spelled wrong, just tell me via email ) or via review. I don't care which. Don't forget to actually read the story, mind you.

Commence reading...

(End of A/N)

1. Daine's Strength

Jonathan sat on his thrown, beaming proudly at the people in the ballroom. His young son was taking his first dance, not with his sister as he sometimes did, but with a beatiful young noble girl, perhaps a year or so older than him. The entire Court, and everyone else was watching with a happy sort of stunned silence. It was a beautiful, and great thing to see the prince of the realm taking his first dance. Not to mention that all of the onlookers were highly privelidged to see such an event.

Suddenly, startling the entire Court, and the guests, the large entrance doors to the ballroom swung open. In staggered a exhausted, sweating, half-dead looking man.

"My King!" he cried, quickly bowing.

"Yes?" Jonathan asked, rising. "Get him food and drink!" he barked at a servant. "Cheese, meat, brandy, and cool water." After bowing the servant hurried to carry out the King's wishes.

"King Jonathan III of Cont'e," the man said, trying to be formal, beside the fact that he was still gasping for breath, and he had to stop often. "I have come from Fort Drell. Tusaine has broken your treaty. They are again in our lands. Last night they killed the morning defense force of Fort Drell. The only survivors are Jacob Irning, and John Westing. Before the fort was over taken, they sent me to you on my horse. Tuesaine has invaded us again."

For a stretched length of silence, the King stood still, his back strait. Finally with a sigh, he settled back into his throne.

"Get me Sir Raoul, commander of the King's Own," he commanded warily of a servant. "Have someone prepare a room for this messenger. Also get me Duke Naxen, and Gareth the Younger of Naxen. Send someone trusted by me to get Sir Alanna of Trebond. Tell Raoul to ready the armies." He paused as the servant left the room at a full run. "Thayet? Are you going to assemble your Riders?"

Queen Thayet nodded, and stood. Losing all traces of her proper behavior at the ball, she shoved through two nobles on her way out. Buri, who always accompanied the Queen, followed.

"Return to your homes!" Jonathan boomed at the nobles that still stood staring from their seats. "Get me Numair Salmal'in and Veralidaine Sarrasri. They will be needed." Another servant left, to fetch Numair and Daine. "We face the prospect of war, again."

The Dominionative Jewl, which was always on Jonathan's neck during these restless times, sparkled, the only part of him revealing his great anger.

"The King is mad," Numair commented randomly, knocking Daine's chess piece off of the board. "He is requiring us."

"I'll never understand this," Daine muttered helplessly. "Why're there so many rules?"

"Come, Daine," Numair called, pulling on his black robes and heading toward the door. "I said that the King requires us, didn't I?"

"Did you?" Daine asked, balancing Kitten on her hip and going to meet Numair at the door. "Come on, Kitten," she ordered, setting down the dragon. "Follow me." Kitten gave a small chirp in reply, and followed the briskly walking Daine and Numair from the room to the King's chambers on all fours; the best way for four-legged creatures to move fastly.

"Numair, Daine!" Jonathan snapped as they entered his chambers. "Sit. What took you so long? Raoul, Gary, and Alanna will be here soon. As you can see, my uncle is already."

Jonathan's uncle, Gareth the older of Naxen, nodded to them from a chair in the corner. His brow was furrowed in thought.

Thayet, Buri, Sarge, their graces Duke Maren, Duke Terragen, and the young Duke of Trebond joined their fellow Duke, Gareth the older of Naxen, in the chamber. Alanna followed them, Gary right behind her. They all took their places, sitting in their designated chairs.

"Tusaine has invaded the River Drell again," Jonathan said, clearly fuming. "Do they need me to unleash my superior army again, and defeat them once more? Did they not get the message the first time?"

There was a knock on the door.

"What?" Jonathan asked. "If it's more bad news..."

"My King," a servant said, bowing deeply. "May I present Sir John Westing and Sir Jacob Irning of Fort Drell?"

"Yes."

Two men, the first lean and tall, the second wide-shouldered and muscular, entered the room. Daine saw with pity that the muscular man, Jacob, was injured in the shoulder. The other man, John seemed to have to hold a certain spot on his stomach every time he moved, and had a grimace set on his face.

"You may be seated," the King said, guestering to two of the other chairs in the room. "And then," his eyes glittered with anger, "You can explain to us how, by the might of the Gods, Fort Drell was overtaken."

"Sire," Jacob started right away. "We was attacked, in the mornin' when all is quiet like at Fort Drell. We's weren't expectin' 'n attack, but we was ready for one."

"Go on."

"John and me, we was up on top of the western wall of the fort, survayin' the vally below. John was jumpy, told me he felt like somthin' was gonna be happenin'. He seemed twitchy 't me, so I gave him some of me brandy, and he drank it. It seemed 't be workin' 'till that damned archer hit him in the stomach."

So that's why he clutches his stomachDaine thought.

"Continue."

"Then some other archer shot me clean through me shoulder, it was John's quick thinkin' that saved both of us. He wet two pieces of cloth with brandy, put one in me shoulder, and one in his own wound."

"And then?" Jonathan asked. "And how could Tusaine have gotten such effecient archers? Last we fought them, they had poor excuses for solders."

"Well, then John sounded me horn," Jacob replied, wiping his sweating brow. "An the men come-a-running', could you spare a thirsty man some brandy, sire?" he asked, then instantly said, "'Scuse, your Highness. I've no right 't ask."

"No, It's quiet alright," Jonathan replied, nodding to a servant, who produced a flask of brandy from a pocket in his tunic.

"Much obliged," Jacob said, taking a huge swig. "Then, sire, the blooming captain gets hit in the throat, arrow right into 'is godforsaken artery. He went down like a ton 'o bricks. Then John, and nigh three others crept to the other side of the western wall, and unloaded on 'em. But the Tusaine's knights were already a-runnin' on their damned horses... they broke down the front gate, and slaughtered everyone on the lower levels, workin' their way to the roof. John got us out, and... here we is."

A hushed silence followed this mans words. If what they were saying was true, and, since Numair hadn't said they were lying, Daine supposed they were telling the truth, they were to win back both the fort and the vally.

"How many animals are in the vally?" she asked suddenly.

Jacob and John both looked at her wearily. "'Scuse, Miss?" Jacob asked.

"How many animals are in the vally?" Daine asked patiently, smiling warmly at them.

Jacob and John both looked at each other quizzicly. "Nigh near thousands, Miss," Jacob finally replied. "It's teamin' this the wee 'ittle beasties."

Daine nodded. There were many animals there. She would ask them to leave when they got there.

"This situation is... unsettling," Jonathan finally said, clasping his wife, Theyet's, hand tightly. "I will surely, if I declair war upon Tusaine, be considered not a peace-maker like my father, but rather, the second conquerer King of Tortall."

"No!" Gary protested. "By declairing war you only do what is right! They have taken an enire fort away from you, broken a treaty, trespassed on lands they are forbidden to step on, and challanged your athority as King."

"I realize this!" Jonathan yelled back. "But is a war worth a fort of men? Or the River Drell vally?"

"Oh course it's worth the damned fort!" John said, speaking up for the first time. "And the vally as well. You can't tell me you know not of all the riches the vally sends to the capital each year? Salmon, deer, fresh drinking water, furs of animals, grain, gold, copper, fish..."

"Yes, I realize that. Shall it be a vote than? Those for it?" Jonathan said. Daine noted that Alanna the Lionesses hand was first to go up.

"I fought in the first Tusaine war," Gary reminded Jonathan. "I'll gladly clash this those bastards again."

Jonathan counted the hands raised. Daine had not raised hers. She felt that war was sensless, violent, and pointless. But she would fight for her King if the vote passed.

"Motion passed," Jonathan said flatly. "Daine, you may leave. Everyone else, besides John and Jacob, stay. We will now have a war council."

After saying good-bye to Numair, she left the room, headed for the archery range. She was one of the best archers in the palace, better than the Lioness herself, but that didn't come to her because she slouched around and didn't practice! She spent nearly five hours a day, when they weren't on the road, at the archery range, mostly just using the bow her father had given her the year before, in the Realms of the Gods.

Reaching the archery range, Daine took the bow from her back, strung it expertly, and fitted one of her homemade arrows into the notch. If the two men near her, John and Jacob, thought this odd, they didn't voice it. They did, however, take up archery posts further away than anyone who knew her would.

Daine let her arrow fly, hitting the middle of the target with the ease of long practice. Then, in rapid succession, she shot two arrows, directly into the first arrow, splitting it in two. The two men were now glaring at her through slitted eyes.

Feeling uneasy, Daine set her bow on a block there exactly for that purpose.

"What?" she demanded of the two men.

"You shoot like the archers that attacked us," Jacob sneered at her. "C'mon John, let's get'er."

Suddenly, both men charged at her --- fast. But she was ready. Last year, after the ordeal with Ozorne, a Shang warrior had visited the palace. After much asking, and a little persuasion from Alanna, the Shang had agreed to train Daine in the art of fighting with all weapons, including a sword, and with her fists.

She leapt into the air, doing a sort of forward summersalt, going right over Jacob. Not wasting any time, she turned as he stumbled past her, and kicked him in his right leg, knocking him to his knees. Drawing back a trained arm, she punched him in the back of the head with a sickening crack. His face smashed into the dirt; unconsious.

Taking pity on him, she flipped him over, laying him on his back, so he could breath and would not suffocate on dirt. Using her distraction to his advantage, John attacked furiously. Ducking, dogging, and twisting to avoid his fastly flying fists, she went on the defense. When he misplaced a step, she slid between his widly spread legs, punching up as she went through.

John grabbed his groin, moaning in pain. Daine wasn't done with him yet, though. With strength not expected of a girl only now becoming an adult, she hit him in the face with a bone-crunching backward roundhouse kick, sending him reeling to the side. Quickly following through, she brought her leg down while bringing her fist up, knocking him a punch square on his chin. John's head snapped back, but he didn't fall unconscience, like all of her other opponents.

Grabbing his arm, she flipped him over her hip, making him hit the ground with an echoing thud. Quickly the thrust her foot into the center of his chest. His wind knocked out, he went white for a few seconds, then got to his feet. This was becoming childish. He should have stayed down, Daine thought grimly. He'll pay for it now!

With eight punches to fast for the eye to see, Daine knocked John backward. While he was still stumbling, she jumped into the air. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds, as she decended onto John, legs and arms flashing in a combination of moves that no ones eye could see.

Satisfied, she stepped back, only for him to spring back up, and knock her to her to her back. This wasn't good. Now he had the upper hand, as he was still standing. He began to kick her in the side. Daine bit back tears, and held her breath. Pretending to be beaten, she waited until he ceased his kicking, and reached up, grabbing his crotch. He screamed with pain, as she squeezed as hard as she could.

He smacked her hand away, staggering backwark, clutching his crotch. Daine leaped to her feet, kicking him in both legs, buckling his knees.

"You live to regret the day that Verrdaine Sarricarsci was angered with you," she spat before kicking him violently in the back of the head. She didn't even bother to flip him over, as she turned back to her archery.