AN: Hey all! Thanks for the reviews:D I'm glad you all like it; there should be some more soon fairly soon. Hope you like this chapter too:D Many thanks to Binksbabe for beta'ing again and keeping me on track.

Jack's bad mood had its roots in his frustration at once again being referred to as 'boy' and being dismissed by soldiers that were in reality about half his age. This had only been worsened by the realisation that all the while he was being told to get out of everyone's way and let the 'adults' get on with their 'battle preparations,' they managed to convey a sense of awe and reverence for him that made him feel as if he was parading as some kind of local deity. He'd have likened it to being a Goa'uld if it weren't for the fact that they didn't seem to fear their 'Aslan' or him through association. That didn't mean to say that he didn't think they ought to…after all, Kynthia's people had felt much the same way about Pop-eye, and he'd been using them for experiments…

At the back of his mind, a little voice niggled at him, trying to point out that there was something very different about the religion of Narnia. After all, what possible use would a Goa'uld have for making animals talk? That's even if it was possible, which he sincerely doubted it was.

"What is it about this fine day that causes you to think so deeply, young one?"

Startled out of his thoughts by the deep baritone voice, Jack turned, silently thankful that his stiff muscles had eased with the gentle movements of his horse. "What?" he asked, realising that although he'd heard the question, he was completely at a loss as to what had been said by the dark Centaur who had just walked up beside him.

"I was wondering aloud at what could have made you think so deeply?"

"Oh, you know."

"No…that is why I had asked."

Jack let out a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh. "It's just a saying; it generally means that someone doesn't want to explain."

The Centaur nodded. "I see." After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. "I am Nightstar; it is an honour to make your acquaintance in a more reasonable situation."

Jack scowled. "Jack-"

"O'Neill. I am aware of your name. You are the one who is a paradox. Older than you appear but younger than you look."

Unsure what to make of the comment, Jack decided that discretion was the better part of valour and remained silent. If Nightstar had anything more to say, then he would. He wasn't going to let the impressive creature know just how eerily close to the mark his words were.

"The skies have become unreadable since your arrival, but even the simplest of creatures can see that your arrival holds dark tidings." Nightstar's words held neither accusation nor question. He was simply stating the facts for Jack, though Jack chose not to hear it that way.

"Look, it's not my fault! I didn't ask to be sent here; I don't even know how I got here!"

"I did not say it was."

"Yeah, well…it was implied."

"Only to your ears."

"Oh, for crying out loud! Do they teach you that at Centaur-school? 'How to be smug and self-righteous in three easy steps'."

Nightstar laughed, which sounded to Jack's ears a very similar to the snicker of a horse. "Who mixed sawdust with your oats, I wonder?" he asked rhetorically, amused by Jack's surliness and ignorant of his glowering. "Do not worry; we will arrive soon, and then you may dismount from your 'high horse'." Laughing to himself as he sped up a little to walk beside Corrin and talk to the King, Nightstar didn't see the gesture Jack shot at him, though it was unlikely he would have understood the meaning if he had.

"Am I right to assume that was not an honourable gesture?"

Jack nearly fell out of his saddle as he spun to turn his glare on Karrena. "Geez…do you have to be so sneaky!" he bit out.

"I am not sneaking in even the slightest. You are merely not listening hard enough."

Jack glared, knowing full well that he was an expert at listening for the conspicuous sounds - or lack thereof - of people sneaking. He also knew that there was no way he would be able to explain this to anyone, though, and settlef for turning resolutely back to face forward.

"We're making good time," Karrena commented, unwilling to let him sulk in peace. "There will be many hours of daylight left to help rebuild and prepare for the remembrance."

Jack grunted a reply, not wanting to think about the horrifying scenes he'd witnessed. He had been successful in keeping the contents of his stomach only because he had become hardened to death; he had in fact seen worse. He hadn't failed to notice several others regurgitating their last meals in the bushes and had respectfully ignored it for their sakes. Even the King hadn't remained immune to it, though he held on longer both because of the sheer shock of something so violent happening in his peaceful kingdom and because he'd wanted to appear strong in the eyes of his people. The truth was, though, that his giving in was probably better than the cold anger he'd been striving to maintain; it showed that he cared and was horrified at it.

Karrena cut herself off in the middle of the sentence as she realised that Jack hadn't heard a word she'd said. Instead, he'd been sitting up in his stirrups and looking around, the hackles on the back of his neck rising inexplicably.

"What is it?" Karrena asked, obviously confused and worried.

"I dunno. I just have a bad feeling…"

A few minutes later, his fears were proved as a large wren came into view, flying erratically across the sky, fighting for every foot of height but rapidly losing. As it neared, it became evident that a wing was injured and it was only just managing to fly. The bird's wings failed it finally, and it crumpled, falling directly towards the floor, caught just metres from the ground by the eagle Gwynhwyvar.

Jack barely took any of this in as he mentally gauged the bird's trajectory over the last few minutes and spurred his horse forwards, breaking through the ranks of the entourage and galloping ahead through the trees, knowing that it was already too late; he was too late, but also knowing that he had to try.

He nearly beheaded himself on low tree branches several times as the horse slalomed through the trees and felt blood trickle from his hairline where another tree had attempted to scalp him as he passed.

Long moments stretched out into an eternity as he sped forwards, hoping against hope that he was wrong, but as he broke out of the trees and swerved the horse around a small cottage, he knew he was right.

The smell of smoke was acrid in his nostrils as he pulled his horse up in the central 'market' square of the settlement. Nearly throwing him in his haste to stop, the horse signified his objection through an indignant harrumph, but, being a dumb beast (no true Narnian would even dream of riding a talking horse, let alone saddling and bridling one) could do no more than that.

Turning his head left, Jack caught sight of two lone riders who were systematically setting the thatched roofs of several houses alight. Not even pausing to think, Jack turned his horse and sped after them, the pounding of the horse's feet and the cries of a single lone infant the only noise he could hear. In the back of his mind, he knew there would be others; the crackle of flames, the shouts of other people and animals, stricken death cries, but he could not hear them as he was so focused on his task.

Releasing the reins, he grabbed bow, notched an arrow, and fired, automatically compensating for the movement of the horse as he would have for the movement of an assault vehicle over rough ground. The rider furthest from him fell instantly from his horse, kicked by the animal in its fearful attempts to flee.

Realising belatedly that he was now too close to use his bow on his second, nearest opponent, he dropped the weapon and pulled out instead the short sword, pulling his arm back to swing as he reached the other man. He realised his fatal error too late, as the other man turned and met his attack, neatly disarming him even as Jack grabbed the man's arm and pulling him from his horse before following him to the ground.

Rolling away and picking himself up, Jack realised the enormity of what he'd taken on. His enemy was several inches taller and about a foot wider than him at the shoulders. He heaved a deadly looking broad sword with ease, cleaving the air where Jack had just recently been lying.

"Oh crap."

The man made no comment, opting instead to swing again, and Jack realised that there lay his advantage. Though his enemy had strength - and a helluva lot of it - he lacked finesse and skill. He was a brawler; more suited to an axe than a sword whereas Jack was a master of unarmed combat and armed combat of several types, and he still had his long sword.

Dancing away from the flying blade, Jack pulled the knife and dropped into a combat stance, dancing and bouncing on the balls of his feet, leaping away from each swipe of the blade.

The brash, angry movements were taking their toll, though, and Jack could see the other man tiring. No doubt he'd already used the sword several times.

The morbid thought spurred Jack onwards and as the other man swung too hard, his sword flying wide, Jack darted forwards and slashed the man across the throat, leaving him to stagger backwards and fall to the ground, his life flowing out through his neck.

Hearing the slow footfalls of a walking horse, Jack spun, knife in hand ready to defend himself. Seeing that it was only Corrin and a group of the people who had been accompanying the procession on the road, he relaxed, his body sagging as the adrenaline left it.

"You're bleeding."

Jack shrugged. "Just a scrape from a low-flying branch."

Corrin, and indeed most of the people were turning horribly green and the sounds of retching could be heard as people caught sight of what was undoubtedly the site of a slaughter.

Receiving no further comment from Corrin, Jack sighed and bent to clean his blade on the shirt of the man he'd just killed. This done, he turned back to Corrin, who was watching him in fascinated horror. "I suggest that you set up a perimeter and get people looking for survivors; anyone who can be helped. But then again, I am just a boy, so you might want to reconsider that." He didn't bother to hide the bitterness in his voice as he turned back to the body and began searching it methodically for any hints as to where he came from, or why he was here.

"What are you doing?" The King's Captain sounded horrified as he stared at Jack's looting of the body.

Jack glared at him. "I'm searching the body, if that's okay with you?"

"But you're looting a dead-"

"Captain!" Corrin cut him off sharply, a dark look on his face. "Jack is right. This is a time of war; the niceties of peace time are over. I see that now." He gave Jack an indecipherable look. "Do as Jack suggests," he ordered, dismounting his horse to join Jack. "Have you found anything?"

"Nope. Nada. Nothing. They've deliberately removed anything that might identify them, or their affiliation. There's no jewellery, no ID, no coinage…"

"They do not wish us to know who they are."

"Got it in one."

"Then why strike here? It was common knowledge that we would be passing through here on our way to Beaversbrook."

Jack was silent for a moment, scanning the market place, unconsciously registering the current position of all the people there, his eyes resting for a moment on Karrena as she checked bodies for life, pausing occasionally to cough up what was left of her breakfast. She had been off of her horse and checking for survivors before Corrin had even given the order, and was only twenty metres or so further down; not far from where the second marauder had fallen.

"They're taunting us, only I don't think they expected us to arrive this soon. Karrena said it herself; we were making good time. They intended for us to come up on it unannounced once they were long gone."

"But why?"

Jack shrugged. "Noticed that-"

He stopped short as a shout sounded and instantly turned to where Karrena had been; where the shout had come from and where Karrena was now being held in a strangle hold by the soldier Jack had shot.

The arrow was still sticking out of the man's shoulder, leaving him with only his left arm free, which he'd tightened around Karrena's neck.

Instantly, the adrenaline was back, surging through his veins like a long-missed nectar, and without thinking about it, Jack reached for the knife, settled it into his hand for a second to test the balance and weight, and then threw it, ignoring the fear on Karrena's face as she thought it was going to hit her. It remained dead on target though, and the man fell instantly, the knife now embedded in his skull.

Behind him, Corrin threw up again, echoed by many others in a staccato wave of revulsion.

Little bit of the action in there. You like, or not? I can use the puppy dog eyes if you like…