Title: Knotted Destiny
By: QT
Edited By: buttons7

Summary: A new era is arising as darkness sets over the vast kingdom of Tortall. People are slain ruthlessly, cities are destroyed, people's hope diminishes rapidly. The only one who can turn the tide and return things to a balance is an unknown and unexpected hero.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tamora Pierce's characters, however, I do own this plot.

"..." Talking
'...' Thinking
blah Dreaming

Kalasin ran her fingers over the emerald jewel that hung around her neck. 'Be safe, Lerant', she thought as the bay gelding came to a stop, his ears twitching. Slipping the necklace inside her shirt, she looked around, seeing nothing but the trees. There, to her left, came sounds of leaves rustling, and twigs snapping.

Roald unsheathed his sword, his blue eyes focusing on a subtle movement nearby. It was as if time stood still as he waited, expecting the worse to come out of hiding. A grunt reached his ears before a tall man stepped into view. Dropping his sword, Roald ran to the man, catching him before he fell. "Raoul!" he cried as the man struggled to breath.

Kalasin's lip quivered. Raoul had been shot twice in the chest, once in the thigh. His clothes were soaked in blood, and his complexion was pale through the streaks of dirt that marked his face. Wasting no time, Kalasin slipped off of the horse and ran to the dying commander. His normally lively dark eyes seemed dull and distant.

Quickly, the Princess pressed her fingers against a wound, ignoring the loud groan emitted from the man. Taking a deep breath, she plunged inside herself, finding the source of her magic. Dipping her hands into it, she drew it out of herself, and into Raoul's body, handfuls at a time. Her magic spread throughout his body, repairing bones, tissue, and muscles.

When she finished replenishing the blood he lost, she opened her eyes. Everything was blurry as tears distorted her vision. "What happened Raoul? What happened?" she screamed, as Roald helped the man sit up.

The man's face darkened as he thankfully accepted the water flask from Roald. Taking a swig, he sighed in content as the liquid cooled his throat. "We were cut off shortly after you two left. Scanrans had traveled along the river until they were behind us. They attacked, a whole mass of them. I'm guessing there were a good five thousand men, while the army we had been fighting attacked us at the front. We were pelted with arrows from the back while fighting off swords at the front. Some were able to run off, I think, but..." Raoul let his voice fade as he shook his head, knowing what Kalasin really wanted to find out; was Lerant alive or not.

Kalasin stared at the ground, trembling slightly. "Who didn't make it?" 'Please, Mithros, don't let it be Lerant,' she prayed as Raoul hesitated a moment.

"Alanna didn't make it. For as skilled as she is, and though she has the Gift, she was no match for the mage that was leading the armies. He just pointed at her, and red lighting shot out from his finger, going straight through her chest. It blew a damned hole in her body!" Taking a breath, he blinked back tears as his jaw and fists clenched. "That's not even half of it either. When you left, she tried to reach Numair and Jon through the fire, and both were unreachable. She said it was as if this whole gods-forsaken area is magically cut off from the rest of the world."

Kalasin opened her mouth, but snapped it shut when Raoul gazed at her sympathetically. "He didn't make it, did he Raoul," she asked quietly.

"Kalasin, I'm sorry," he said, looking away from her as he told her of how he tripped over the man's arrow-imbedded body. Only when she got up and ran off into the woods did Raoul look up. "When she returns, we have to get out of here, Roald."

Roald's expression was emotionless as he watched his sister disappear into the thicket. "I know, Raoul, I know."

Running deeper, and deeper into the forest, Kalasin wiped her eyes as tears blurred her vision. Not paying attention to where she was going, Kalasin screamed when her body suddenly tumbled down a hill due to her foot catching on an uplifted tree root. When her body finally stopped moving, she found herself laying at the edge of a small stream, her hand dangling into the chilly water.

At that moment, she lost her grip on her emotions. Sobs escaped her mouth as hot tears burned her cheeks. She was truly alone now. 'No, you're not alone. You still have Roald,' the more sensible half of her argued. 'Quit this blubbering. You're only feeling sorry for yourself, when instead of weeping, you should be avenging your peoples' deaths.'

Taking a deep breath, the girl calmed her nerves as she whimpered softly. Slowly, she stood, her fingers traveling up to the pendant that hung around her neck. 'I won't let your death be wasted, Lerant, I promise,' she thought. A leaf crunched from somewhere behind her, causing her to immediately tense up. 'Stupid, stupid,' she thought, scolding herself for becoming so wrapped up in her emotions to not notice if she was being followed.

The wind whistled in the trees, sending chills up Kalasin's spine. The sky was growing darker by the minute, and she was in unfamiliar territory. Slowly, her hand drifted to her sword's hilt, and gripped it firmly. Another leaf crunched, this one sounding as if it came from directly behind her.

Swiftly, she unsheathed her sword, and spun around, stopping the blade just inches from a man's neck. Her blood ran cold when she saw arrows pointed at her out of the corners of her eyes. Keeping her blade steady, still pointed at the man's neck, she took this time to examine who she had nearly killed.

The man was actually a centaur. His hair on both his human half and horse half was as black as night. He had twinkling green eyes, and his build was muscular. A tan shirt hang loose over his body, covering the area where his horse half connected to his human half.

"Lower your sword, human," he spat.

"I don't listen to those I do not trust," she retorted.

"You're in our territory, human, so do as I say. Either you lower your weapon now, or you die where you stand," he said as he raised his fisted hand, ready to give the command to fire.

"Your territory! You're on that damned mage's side aren't you? I will never put down my sword, and surrender to the likes of you monsters!"

A few muffled whispers came from the centaurs with crossbows when Kalasin mentioned the mage. Slowly, the black-haired centaur lowered his hand, his green eyes gazing intently at Kalasin. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice now soft.

"Are you aligned with the mage?" Kalasin asked, her eyes blazing with anger.

"Don't be stupid, human."

Jonathan of Conté gazed up from the untouched meal that lay before him. Whispers flooded the room at the sight of a disheveled prince followed by a ragged looking knight. The King's dull eyes widened as he quickly rose from his seat. "Roald, Raoul," he breathed.

"Roald dipped his head as Raoul bowed, "Father, might we talk a moment?" the Prince asked in a commanding tone.

Jonathan excused himself from the table of nobles, shaking his head at his wife who began to rise in hopes of being included in this conversation. Only when she sat down did he exit the room, following his son and friend to a vacant room.

With the wave of his hand, Jonathan had the whole room shrouded in his magic, spelled to protect them from eavesdroppers. Once that was done, the King gazed intently at his son and best friend, his brows knitting together in question when he noticed the absence of his daughter.

"Jon, sit down," Raoul said, his voice weary. "Alanna is dead, the area where she was fighting has been taken by Scanrans and Tyrans alike. A mage is leading them, one that I fear is more powerful than even Numair." On he went, explaining what he remembered of the battle. Finally, he sat down, clearly exhausted.

"What about Kalasin?" Jon asked, his lips tight.

"Kalasin didn't return when she ran off to mourn the deaths of those close to her," Roald said softly, his eyes moist. "We waited as long as we could, but we heard scouts coming, so we fled. She's chosen her own path, Father, so let her be. No one can change her mind now. We can't dwell upon her stupidity. We have to look towards the future, and bring everyone here. We need as many people who can fight as possible. We can re-build villages, and cities, we can re-sow the crops, but we can't replace people if they die due to lack of strength. If we gather together, we'll be stronger than ever."

Jonathan stared at his son, his expression unreadable. 'He's grown up,' the King thought, 'He'll be a fine leader when my time ends.'

Kalasin found herself led to a small camp where centaurs of all ages were hard at work, preparing food and fire, sharpening weapons, and having playful sparring tournaments. The girl's eyes danced at the cheerful sight, her heart clenching as she thought of home.

Though the black-haired centaur, who was guiding her through the camp, was talking to her, she heard nothing. She didn't even realize she stopped walking until he came to stand beside her, and follow her gaze to some bandaged Tortallian soldiers. They were sitting on a log, sipping some liquid out of a clay bowl. No one seemed to notice them.

"They're refugees from the war that just took place," he said, his voice harsh though his eyes showed kindness and pity. "There's more in some tents. They were the ones who managed to escape, and our scouts found them. There are only Tortallian soldiers here though, because that's where our alliance lies."

"Let me go help them," Kalasin said in a commanding tone.

"What can you do human?" the centaur asked in interest.

Ignoring him, Kalasin ducked past other immortals, making her way towards the soldiers who were now laughing at a joke one made. When the girl stopped in front of the men, they looked up at her, their eyes widening slightly.

The centaur watched as the girl grabbed the men's hands, and their bruises healed before his eyes. "A mage," he muttered under his breath as he continued to watch her carefully remove the bandages, only to find that there was no wound.

"Human, come here," he demanded, his emerald eyes narrowing at the girl. The immortals around him glanced up momentarily before continuing on with their tasks.

Kalasin frowned, standing up slowly. She was about to turn around when the first man she healed grasped her wrist. Glancing back at the immortal, she shrugged and bent down to the man, smiling. "Is there something I can get you?"

The man gazed at her, his eyes glassy. "Lad-no, that's not what you are. Lass, do you remember me? You came to stand next to me, all high and mighty on your horse just a few days ago."

Kalasin's eyes widened, "yes, I remember you. You told me to go back home."

He nodded slowly, his eyes holding hers. "You're not just any lass though, are you?"

Kalasin's smile faltered a bit, but still remained planted on her face. "No, I suppose I'm not, though I don't believe my status matters at this point. What matters is that you all are safe."

"Princess," he paused for a moment before releasing her wrist that he held so tightly to. "Before I fled to the woods, I saw where men were being taken. The ones still alive are being beaten, and then caged. Those with severe wounds most likely won't make it. Those cages are meant for slaves, Princess. That's what they plan on doing with the others, enslaving them, making money off of the men."

Kalasin lost her smile completely, the thought of the soldiers' fate causing fury to build inside her. Again, she heard the centaur summoning her. "I must go," she muttered before brushing her lips against the man's forehead as she stood up. "Stay strong. We'll see the end of this war soon," she said with determination, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

The centaur watched as Kalasin walked towards him, her hair hanging in her face, masking whatever emotions were visible. She looked different than before, when he had first found her. She now demanded attention as she strode towards him, her white-knuckled fists tight against her sides. "Look at me, and tell me your name," he said as he grabbed the girl's chin, forcing her to look at him.

A small smile crawled across her lips, a plan to turn the tides of the war unfolding in her mind. "I will tell you my name only when all of your...herd's leaders are present."

The corner of the centaur's mouth twitched as he let go, glaring at her with disgust. "Why should I listen to you?"

"You should listen to me because you have no other choice. I have an idea, and unless you want your herd to be sent to the Black God's realm by that mage, you will listen to what I say."

AN: I myself didn't want to have Lerant die, but unfortunately, I was in an angst mood. I also like to shock people. I've been debating non-stop with myself about whether to make Lerant live or die, and I finally decided his fate, which was written in this story :3

Sorry I haven't updated in forever dodges items thrown at her I've been to the doctors 2-3 hours away from here since she was a specialist, and she refuses to believe I have a muscle disease. It was a waste of money and time in all truth.

After that, school began to take up my time, and then I was out for a week, blacking out in the halls and being in too much pain to move. That weekend, my father grew ill, and went to the hospital. He had a bleeding ulcer, but he's better now, and on medicines, though the doctors are monitoring his heart.

Now, I'm still in the process of making up school work, and my 17th birthday is Tuesday (October 4th), so I apologize for my long absence.