(A/N:) Hello, friends. It's me. I really feel that I don't have to say my name this time, partly because I believe most of you know it, and partly because I'm lazy. All you really need to know is that this is the first battle of the most controversial war in the history of Tortall.

So keep reading. I mean, come on people! It's chapter four! You can't stop after you've read chapter three! It's unsportsman-like.

(End of A/N)

4. Tusaine Strikes

It was a nice night that night. Daine was feeling refreshed after a bath and plenty of sleep, and had voulenteered to take sentry duty on the fort walls.

Leaning against the wall, she remembered the events that had unfolded after she was brought back from the Divine Realms last year. How the battlefield had looked at the end, with all the blackened corpses bloated and stinking in the heat of the previous summer.

With a sigh, she put those thoughts to rest. She was in a new war now, she didn't need to be remembering old ones. Besides, it was taking her away from her sentry duty.

Suddenly, from across the fort, a flare went up. The sign of an attack. Shouts arose after the flare had been shot up, and Daine could see solders flocking to the gates, archer doing the same, except to the walls.

Daine took a quick scan of her side of the fort, noting that no one was there. She took off running along the wall, toward the othere side. Huffing and puffing, she finally reached it, to assemble with the many archers already there.

Picking a target out of the hundreds of men in Tusaine's colors rushing the walls, she loosed an arrow. It hit it's attended target, knocking him off his horse.

"For Tortall!" she yelled to the cheers of the men on the wall. Now the fighting began in earnest, arrows flying into the crowd below. To her left, she saw a patch of earth the size of one of the gates flare with black fire; Numair.

Drawing back her bowstring again, she lanced an arrow through the eye slits of a knight near one of the gates. She heard loud swearing to her left, and glanced there. John was next to her, clutching his stomach.

Swearing along with him, she knocked him down, just as an arrow was about to hit him.

"Damn, do you have no sense?" she demanded. "You don't stop to clutch your stomach when your not injured!"

She screamed a few more times, then helped him to his feet. They both began arching again, picking off targets as they picked them. John was good, not as good as her, but good.

One of the gates below opened, and Duke Gareth rode out, followed by at least sixty armed knights. More cheers arose form the archers, who were already fatigued.

That's when the Tusainian archers decided to actually get in the fight. Instead of the Tortallan archers having complete control of the battle field, Tusaine was slowly turning the tides. Three vollys of arrows later, and ten men had fallen. At that rate, half the men would be gone in no time. Daine needed to find some way to turn the tides back around...

There! The catapults, they were the only chance.

"You!" she said, grabbing John by the nape of his neck and hauling him from the wall. "Can you opperate a catapult?"

"Of couse," he replied. "But there are none on this wall!"

"I'll take care of that. Follow me," she ordered, running along the wall, John on her heels.

Reaching one of the catapults, Daine and John carefully loaded two liquid fire globs into it, and put two more into the reload pocket. Daine placed her bow and quivver onto the machine, and shape-shifted to a huge wild mountain-horse of the East.

John harnessed her with some reigns he'd found in a shed nearby, and she started pulling the machine toward the wall where the main fighting was happening.

Twice she had to stop to rest. Catapults were meant to be moved by two or three horses, not one, however big and powerful that one was.

They reached the wall, and Daine shape-shifted back to her normal self, taking care in shaping clothing around herself this time. If John noticed she was naked at first, he gave no notice. He was busy loading a case of liquid fire into the launcher.

He pulled the rope, after carefully aiming the catapult at an area away from Tortall's knights. It hit with the force of a small meteor, having been fired from a high height.

The men below burst into flame, screming and falling while clawing on their armor, with had become a heat conductor for the fire, literally singeing them to death.

The tides had turned. Tortall was again regaining control of this battle from atop their new fort, which looked like a giant D from overhead.

John loaded another liquid fire skin into the catapult, and pulled a second rope. It hit again, knocking twenty knights off their feet and to their demise. John did know how to opperate a catapult.

Tusaine was retreating. The last to leave were some of the braver, or stupider, archers, who tried to pick off a few more targets before retreating.

Daine was watching as one of the last archers carefully lined up a shot. She saw him loose the arrow, and didn't think. She just ran. The arrow was intended for a man who had already turned his back on the battlefield, who was making his way to the stairs.

Daine jumped sideways, using her speed to get in front of the arrow before it would hit the man. With a scream of pain, her vision went red, then black, and she dropped to the ground...

"You have failed me, Ozorne."

"I didn't think that the Tortallan's would have such a powerful and ready fort already built," Ozorne replied angrily. "Besides, I at least am trying to do something. While I am in my study finding ways to outwit the Tortallan army, you sit on your throne all day, ordering people around, even me!"

"You will hold your togue in the presence of your King."

"I am the one and only Emperor Mage of Carthak!" Ozone screamed furiously. "If anything, you should hold your togue in my presence!"

"You are no longer the Emperor Mage of Carthak. There is no Emperor Mage. The Emperor of Carthak is named Kaddar. Not Ozorne."

"Yes... but I will become the Emperor Mage once more! That was our deal," Ozorne retorted, subduing his anger.

The large door on the opposite side of the King's chambers opened. The King's brother, Duke Hilam entered, looking magnificent in even more jewels than Ozorne. Upon seeing Ozorne his lip curled into a sneer of superiority, and he bowed before his King.

"Cousin," he said, speaking in his hard voice. "I beg that you let me take over the position of top general in this war. I fought in the last war, I know how the enemy thinks. I can secure our rightful vally from the hands of Tortall. I can keep the vally in the lands of Tusaine."

"I agree with you, cousin," the King replied. "But for now Ozorne will be keeping the position of general. He knows things of the enemy as well, having hosted them in his palace two years prior to now. He gets one more chance, and if he fails, you take over."

"Yes, my King," Hilam said, standing to his feet and bowing to the King of Tusaine once more. "But I must warn you, Ozorne has proven... untrustable... in the past."

He left the room. Ozorne started toward the door, intending to follow and punish the boy for speaking badly of the Emperor Mage of Carthak.

Tusaine's King squeezed the clay doll in his hand. Ozorne stopped just next to the door, falling to his knees and clutching his stomach.

"Damn you!" he screamed furiously. "I am the Emperor Mage!"

"Take him away."

Two guards sunk out of the shadows near the King's throne, walking briskly toward Ozorne. They took spots on either side of him, simultaneously clamping strong hands onto both his arms.

"Take him to the chamber," the King drawled lazily. "Tell the torture master to remind him his place in the palace."

The guards led Ozorne away. He was glimmering with his dampened Gift. The King was taking no chances with the former Emperor Mage. He knew of his power, and had his mages constantly pouring dampeners into the palace, so that Ozorne could not use his awesome Gift against him.

"Ozorne. How the mighty have fallen," the King sighed, playing with his jewl encrusted wizards rod, a Gift from the long-dead Duke Roger of Cont'e. "I carry out your wishes Roger, but you have ordered me to work with unusual people..."

Light flooded in through Daine's half opened eyes. She grimaced in pain, felling the effects of being hit in the chest, right above her breasts, by a arrow. Pulling back her sheets, she stood, and almost fell to the ground due to dizziness.

"Goddess, is it really that bad?" Daine wondered aloud. "I thought it only hit my shoulder..." she trailed off, looking out the window.

No cleanup crew had gone out to collect the bodies of the enemy and burn them. They lay there, most of them already bloated beyond human reconition, some shapless blackened balls.

"Merciful Mother," she muttered. "How long have I been out for?"

Spying a tray laden with food on a bedside table, Daine realized her great hunger. She shoved as much food into her mouth as it could hold, swallowing right after chewing. Hungrily, she began to eat more.

Seeing also a pitcher of water and a glass next to it, she picked up the entire pitcher. Pain ripped through her chest, and she dropped the pitcher with a cry of pain.

A maid rushed into the room, looking tousled in her black and white outfit, her hair, which had been up in a bun was frayed and poking out everywhere.

"I'm sorry," Daine sobbed. "I was just so thirsty, and I didn't think to pour it into the cup..."

"No, It's alright, please. It's my job, dearie," the maid replied, mustering a weak smile while taking out a dry rag. "I believe Master Numair is looking for you."

Daine hobbled out of the room, clutching her chest. The wound wasn't so horribly bad, and it would heal in time, but until then she was in for the ride from hell. Almost every physical motion a human could do with their arms involved some using of the muscle in their chest as well.

Onua was sitting in a wooden bench outside the room, kneeling and praying to the Goddess.

Daine tapped her on the shoulder.

"Daine! Oh thank you, Mother," she cried, wrapping Daine in a tight hug.

Daine tried not to wince, but it escaped her lips anyway. Onua drew away, looking worried.

"Daine?..."

"I'm fine, Onua," Daine replied with a small smile. "It just hurts a little."

"It would be fair strange if a wound didn't hurt somewhat," Onua laughed.

Daine stopped walking suddenly, quick flashes came to her mind. It was Ozorne, in his human form, being dragged away from a room that was lit brightly by many torches, and wid open windows. Out the window she could just barely see a glimmer of water. The Drell River!

"Daine?" Onua asked, her laughter replaced with a worried look once more.

"Please," Daine gasped. "I'm fine... get Numair." She crumpled into a nearby bench, breathing heavily. Ozorne was alive! In the Drell River vally! But how? She had killed him with her badger's claw.

She dug the claw out from under her nightshirt, looking at it. She remembered vividly how she'd killed Ozorne. She'd jabbed the claw into his throat and ripped horizontally, across his artery.

Fast footsteps aproached; Numair and Onua.

Daine sprung up, clinging to Numair desperatly.

"Onua, please leave," Numair said quietly. "My student wishes to speak to me privatly."

Onua walked away. Numair stood with Daine leaning against him until her footsteps had receeded away down the hall, then said, "We'll talk in my study."

He led the way to his study, Daine following closly behind.

As soon as they'd reached the room, Numair put a magic barrier around it, making sure their conversation wouldn't be heard.

"Ozorne is alive," Daine said, now on the brink of tears.

"Daine, how can that be?" Numair asked, stripping off his robes as he spoke.

"I don't know... I had a vision. Ozorne is working with the King of Tusaine. He was being dragged away from the King's chambers... I need a map of the river vally."

Numair took a map out of his desk.

"Here," he said softly, replacing his sweat soaked shirt for a clean one. Daine took the map, and scanned it.

"The vision I had was of a building on top of these hills," she pointed to the hills above the river on the other side.

"We have to show this to the King," Numair commented. "I believe he's planning a counter-attack to the one that happened just last night. Let's go."

They climbed down a flight of stairs to the war chamber, entering to the surprise of Jonathan, and the Lioness.

"Numair? Daine?" Jonathan asked. "Well, I don't know why your here, but I was just going to send a servant to fetch you anyways. Daine, I need you in paticular."

"Yes, Highness?" she asked, inclining her head in a bow.

"That would be 'Jon', Daine," Jonathan replied. "Alright, back to buisness."

He walked to the front of the room, where a large, detailed map was pinned to the wall.

"My Uncle and I have created a counter-attack plan," he indicated the board. "Raoul and my Uncle will lead the armies through this forest," he pointed at the forest that lay one hundred yards away from the northern wall of the fort. "And attack Fort Drell on its weak side. Now, For Drell has how many catapults on each wall?" he looked at John who was prestent. Jacob was not.

"Three on each wall, sire," John replied, walking up to join the King. He pointed at the three walls of Fort Drell that were nearest Fort Tortall. "Three here, here, and here."

"Right," Jonathan continued. "We need someone that can shape-shift to fly over there and take out six of those nine catapults."

"Me?" Daine asked, surprised.

"Who else?" the King asked.

"Me," Numair replied, "I can shape-shift."

"We need someone who is a little... erm... better at it than you, Numair," the King said flatly. "Young Daine here can change different parts of her body at different times, no one would expect it. Plus you are," he looked up at Numair's towering frame. "Slightly to large for such a covert opperation."

"If I do this, how will I get word to Raoul and Duke Gareth?" Daine asked, knowing she would do it.

"John has told us there's a large fire bin in the corner of the fort, here," Jonathan pointed at the corner of the fort nearest the forest. "Raoul will have a man scale a tree, and he will report when he sees the fire flare up. The enemy lights the fire at regular times, to signal to the other sentries at the fort that everything is alright on their side of the wall. If this plan is carried out with painstaking care, it is perfect."

"But... if they light it regularily, then won't there be a schedule, and what of the sentries on that wall?" Daine asked.

"Ah, your friend Vindine has voulenteered to take care of them," the King replied.

Vindine nodded at her from across the room.

"When can I go?"