-a/n- So yeah, I haven't updated yet in 2012. That alone is shocking. If you're still out there waiting for an update I'm SO sorry it's been so long. I've had a year out from veterinary to do a pathology degree, and between lab work, papers, essays and the wonders of life, fanfiction has sadly taken a back seat. I know I say this every year, but really, Fallen is going to be finished this summer.

Hope you're all doing well wherever you may be,

Much love xx

When Kel awoke she had a fleeting moment of disorientation; where in the mortal realms was she? Then the knowledge that this was her new room at Stonewall filtered in and she relaxed back onto her surprisingly comfortable cot. It was still dark outside, but Kel sensed that it was nearly time for her to rise and face her first full day in command of the fighters.

She had sat up late the night before, catching up with Tor and wincing through the tale of how he'd lost his arm. Kel had to admit that she'd found the reunion with Tor slightly more awkward than with Alex. Up until now Tor had never lived in Tortall, unlike Alex, and Kel had some difficulty in explaining what she'd been doing since she'd left Somalkt. At the very mention of his fallen Clan, Tor's eyes darkened with intense pain. Kel supposed losing your clan would be the equivalent of losing Mindelan and all her closest fighting colleagues all at once. He was still the young man she remembered, but somehow quieter, smaller than his once large character deserved.

As she rose and began to carry out her routine exercises, Kel felt the pressure of once again having to prove herself; to the men that she was to command, to Tor, and most of all to herself so she could in some way justify being away from Alex's side during this time.

After a quick breakfast, the men assembled inside on of the empty barracks. They laughed and joked amongst themselves, but Kel could feel the frequent glances that fell her way. She did not have to wait long; good soldiers were rarely tardy.

Her plan for the morning was to drill the soldiers in what she knew best; swordplay. Kel set drills for a while to warm up her fighters. These were both swordplay-based and limbering exercises; jumps and twists. Despite the arrays of styles being shown by the Riders, Army and men of the Own, Kel was relieved to find all eighty fighters proficient in handling the sword. To make this time useful then, she should acquaint them with the Scanran style of fighting, as well as practicing outnumbered, against axmen and fighting in restricted spaces such as corridors and stairs.

Practice weapons were distributed and Kel split the warriors so that they were fighting two against three. Those who were "killed" had to move to the side and carry out press-ups, squats and other exercises until the fights were over. Kel prowled between them, hazel eyes sharp, barking out comments where she saw the need.

Occasionally she intervened in the fights when she saw complacency creeping over the more prodigious fighters. Not only did this give her the chance to prove her ability in the flesh, but she also needed to train; she was going to go into the most important mission of her life as prepared as she could be.

For weeks Kel and her fighters trained mercilessly. They ate, slept and breathed fighting exercises. Aware that this punishing pace could produce a bone-deep weariness, Kel instructed her cooks to serve larger portions than ever and made sure her soldiers slept for long hours during the nights. If anyone was exhausted by the intensity, it was Kel. Whilst the others had time to rest and play cards before bed, Kel was constantly planning the days ahead, writing reports to George and the King, drawing up supplies and settling disagreements.

Not even before the King's tournament had she been so focussed on a goal. Knowing that she and Tor were the only ones who truly appreciated how much rested upon their success, Kel forced herself to open up about the things she'd faced in Scanra. One such night, Tor had joined her in retelling the tale of Somalkt's fall. The large Scanran wept openly, singing a song of such mournful lament that the whole barracks fell silent.

To prevent the training from becoming repetitive, Kel organised mini tournaments and competitions amongst the fighters. Sometimes these were individual events, whilst others were designed for teams.

When the disguises arrived, Kel assigned them all characters, teaching them how to build up a simple backstory. She made them act for hours as Scanran slaves or peasants, correcting postures, accents whilst trying to trick or provoke them out of character.

'You mustn't look me in the eye,' she repeated herself for what felt like the hundredth time. 'Now try again,' she said patiently.

The transition from winter to spring was not a glorious transformation from white gilded landscape to blue skies and green shoots. The snow melted slowly, leaving mud that would freeze overnight and thaw to ankle-deep bog during the day. The sky remained drab and grey, frequently emptying it's contents onto the wooden huts of Stonewall.

One such night, when rain hammered the ceiling of the barracks so fiercely that Kel wouldn't have been surprised if the timber had simply given in, all residents had gathered together to sing. Tor had been teaching them traditional Scanran folk songs, most of which Kel knew.

They were just entering the second verse with gusto, when Linden, one of the men on guard duty entered the barracks. Shaking water from his head like a dog, he gestured to Kel. When she drew closer he explained,

'Lady Kel, there's, well there's someone to see you.' He looked pale beneath a curtain of dark sodden locks.

Kel pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and dashed through the rain in a wholly undignified manner, until she reached her offices. Holding the door open for Linden, Kel's gaze took in the newcomers, who were seated on wooden benches close to the fire.

Before she could speak, one rose gracefully and turned to face her, blue eyes smiling.

'Roald! Your Highness,' Kel stumbled over the correct greeting. She had once considered herself good friends with the Crown Prince, but was unsure on what terms they now were, or in what capacity he was visiting.

'Kel, or should I say Lady Knight,' Roald shook her hand in congratulations. Kel smiled wearily.

'It's good to see you.'

'And yourself.'

'What brings you hear?'

'Shall we sit,' Kel indicated her office.

They left Roald's escort warming by the fire and shut the door behind them. Kel was slightly embarrassed at the disarray she'd left behind the previous evening. Pieces of parchment containing plans for individual training schedules, half drafted reports, a letter from Raoul, Kel swept them into a pile and perched on the desk. Roald took a seat, he had inherited the effortless elegance of his mother, and his father's piercing gaze.

'How much do you know about what we're doing here?' Kel asked directly.

'Not specific details, but my father gave me the gist,' he continued explaining. 'I've been surveying the Tusaine border since the autumn, then have been recruiting in the South and with the Bazhir' he grimaced, 'A good excuse to keep me away from the Northern border. Anyway, I just returned to the palace. My father brought me up to date on what's been happening.'

'Does anyone else know?'

'But a handful of trusted people,' at Kel's worried expression he assured her, 'Gareth of Naxen and the like. Discrete and would give their lives before betraying my father.'

Kel wasn't sure she was comfortable with a number of relatively unknown people knowing of Alex's plans, but she saw the need. It was especially important that Roald was for Alex's cause; after all, he might one day be the neighbouring monarch. Although that was thinking far ahead.

'Someone needed to bring the reports,' Roald handed her a leather wallet bound and stamped with a royal wax seal.

Kel accepted it, her eyebrows raised slightly. 'Working as a courier now?'

Roald ran his hand through his dark hair, in a habit that he might've once picked up from Neal. 'It gave me something to do, I wanted to see you. I haven't been in touch with anyone for months. I know you're likely busy being useful, but if you'd spare a few hours I'd appreciate hearing, well your story I suppose. I am informed that you are quite well acquainted with Scanra.'

Kel poured two goblets of spiced apple juice, considering the Crown Prince in front of her. He was well-fed, well-dressed, ever polite, most emotions tucked securely away behind the image of the man he'd been raised to be since a young child. Most considered him a quieter, somehow lesser version of his father. He was gifted, that was common knowledge, but Kel knew not how powerful he was nor how the realm would fare with this contained young man and Yamani bride at it's head. Personally Kel trusted this serious, mild young man far more than his charming, confident father.

Alex was so different so "un-royal" it was almost laughable. Whilst Tortall tucked their leaders away from the bloodshed of the war, Alex was skulking around the gods only knew where. Their cultures were inconceivably different, and yet, Kel liked both young men a lot, valued them, would serve them.

She set about telling Roald her tale. Leaving out nearly nothing, except the news that Alex has become her blood-bonded sibling. She was still unsure of the potential conflict between being sister to Alex and bound by oath to Jonathon.

The prince was a good listener and asked pertinent, thoughtful questions. He seemed particularly interested in the difference in culture that Kel described.

'It is odd, when you think about he,' he mused. 'We have books written on the intricate etiquettes of the Yamani Islands, teach our pages Carthaki history, how to greet Marenite women...and yet we haven't the faintest understanding of the festivals or structure of our northern neighbours' communities.'

'I left Tortall just wanting to get away from painful memories and learn to fight,' said Kel slowly, toying with a dagger on her desk. 'And I discovered, in amongst the slavery and war, people so vibrant, so alive. People that could sing even though all hope seemed lost, who could dance till the late hours of the night. Leaders who'd gladly risk everything they'd have for their people...' She trailed off and they fell into a comfortable silence.

The hour was late. Before they retired for the night, Kel asked her friend if he would stay a while in the morning to meet her band of fighters. It would be a perfect morale boost. Roald agreed, and as he was leaving paused, and turned to Kel.

'I don't know whether it's crossed your mind, Kel. But I believe that the you just happening to meet the heir to the throne of Scanra in the woods one day and being willing and able to follow him...that wasn't just chance. I reckon the gods are far more active in our lives than most believe. I hope you find it a comforting thought.' The quiet prince slipped out of Kel's office, leaving her already buzzing mind with more to think about.

'Bert, on your left' Kel cried out in Scanran. The heavy-set soldier pivoted to block the wooden sword swinging towards his side whilst Kel nipped in smoothly to engage the man that Bert had been fighting.

Clashes of wood-on-wood filled the barracks, grunts of exertion, exclamations and shouts punctuating the warm air. Perspiration tricked down Kel's forehead and her shirt was sticking to her back as she blocked and attacked, engrossed in her intricate dance. Her sword found it's way to her opponent's throat. He swore and threw down his blade.

Kel didn't hesitate before piling in to help out Rees. The fight was thinning was soon declared as a victory to her team. She had six men still standing, all congratulating each other between gulps of water.

The spring weather had taken a turn for the better and even the small breeze playing through the open door wasn't enough to cool the heat generated by the exercising men.

Kel was pleased with the fight, not particularly because her team had won; they nearly always did, but she sensed the huge improvement in the team's cohesion, not to mention their sword skill. They were even conversing with each other in fairly accurate Scanran.

The fight had finally made up Kel's mind. It was time to start moving the men out. She'd not received any exact dates or orders, but it would take them a while to make the journey north and Kel couldn't keep her fighters training in the safety of Stonewall forever. It was time for them to test their skills against what Scanra had to offer.

Each team had separate orders, unique disguises and backstories that they'd rehearsed excessively. These had been kept secret, in case, Mithros-forbid one of her teams was captured and tortured. They were to travel north, disguised as squads from the regular army before leaving their horses in the Trebond stables, that much had been arranged. Beyond that, they would travel on foot to the smugglers' crossing, in disguise with little more than packs of food and their own swords.

Wary of the potential for Maggur to have spies inside the northern forts, their departure from Tortall was to go unnoticed and this would involve testing Kel's squads ability to evade Tortallan patrols first, before even entering Scanra.

Once they were across the border, each squad had a destination and if all went well, would be met by Alex's people in various villages and hideaways who would help to smuggle them into Hamrkeng.

Over the weeks she'd been watching them train Kel had selected "team leaders" to take responsibility for each squad in between the times when they could be commanded by either herself, Tor or Alex. It hadn't taken her long to pick out those with a natural ability to assess situations and take command. Several had already held positions of command in their previous workforce, be it Army, Own or Riders, but there were also several young fighters who Kel thought would also do well

"Great work,' Kel praised, drawing her thoughts back to the present. She clapped Rees on the shoulder and beckoned her team in.

'We're not going again, surely?' puffed Henry, his face red beneath a liberal helping of freckles.

Kel surveyed the ten faces turned towards her, all who were prepared to listen to a green knight. It was hard won respect, but a respect strong enough that each would place their lives in Kel's hands once they moved into Scanra.

'In a moment would you run and fetch the other squads, no cooks or anything, just the eighty of us.'

'We're moving out, ain't we?' said Seb, his voice hushed.

Kel met his eyes, then each of her other soldiers in turn. There was excitement mixed with trepidation in every gaze; although hardened soldiers, they'd never gone undercover before.

'We're ready.' She said decisively, firmly.

Her group dispersed, and as the news broke Kel could hear exclamations followed by a hushed tension that seemed to permeate the entire camp. It took under five minutes to assemble the warriors.

'This may well be the last opportunity I have to talk to you as a whole,' said Kel, who squared up to the weight of eighty pairs of eyes upon her small frame. 'You know your roles, you know your objectives, your destination, you've heard of a country ripped apart, of the struggles of ordinary people. But what I will remind you of is what this means for Tortall, for our home. Would you think with me of what I know you've been through over the last three years, the battles fought, of comrades, friends, family even that didn't make it home. Of the months of waiting for attacks, unable to be predicted or prevented.'

She paused.

'You were chosen as not only some of the most elite fighters this country has to offer, but also some of the smartest and we could not have asked you to give any more than you have done over the last few months. Whilst you may feel that this has been a last-ditch attempt to bring down Maggur, let me remind you that this is the culmination of nearly a whole decade of planning and preparation. Our Scanran brothers have dreamt of this approaching day, and thousands have died for it. We have one shot,' Kel's free hand balled into a fist and she swallowed, her mouth dry. She'd never thought she'd be one for impassioned speeches, but then again she'd never invested so much time and energy into one group of fighters, never felt so much responsibility for a mission's success. She continued,

'You probably don't know this, but when knights swear their oath to the crown the first thing it speaks of is protecting those weaker than yourself. Honour makes no distinction between races or type of people, we do this because it is right and may the gods themselves honour our cause. Fight well.' She saluted her men in Alex's fashion, her fist to heart and then forehead. The men mirrored her movement.

'Squad leaders to me.' As the seven other leaders followed Kel to her office, the group dispersed.

Inside, Kel handed out final instructions for their departure from Stonewall from behind her desk. She clasped her hands firmly behind her back, bolstering herself. As the leaders turned to leave, Kel spoke, her parting words sombre.

'I've faith that we can get people into Hamrkeng,' she said, only slightly more confidently that she felt. 'Alex's operations are tight, the covers should hold and his men, whether fighters or not, will be loyal, trust them.' Kel moved around to the front of the desk and clasped each mans hand in a firm shake.

'Bring as many back as you can.' She whispered, once the door had swung shut behind the last of them.

Kel exchanged her Mindelan-blue tunic for a red regular-army one. There were no female warriors in the regular army, but with her chest bound tight, her hair wound in a knot and disguised beneath armour, Kel could pass as a man. She checked her pack one last time and sighed. It was time to head back into life on the road.

It was the middle of the night, the yard lit by a single flickering torch as was customary. Despite the near pitch-darkness Kel and her nine fellows had no trouble readying their horses, their fingers were well practised at finding buckles and adjusting straps.

Kel was looking forward to the ride north, if not to leave the confines of Stonewall but to get properly back in the saddle, albeit briefly. Usually, Kel's training heavily involved work with her mount, but since the ever-faithful Prince would be left at Trebond, this was a mission she would have to face without him.

They led the horses quietly from the fort, mounting swiftly once on the road, and taking off into the night. The only other woman in Kel's squad, Lyssa, was dressed as a royal courier, to explain their haste on the road to passersby.

Through the night they rode mostly in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Shortly before dawn they stopped to eat, water the horses and rest for a few hours. After four hours of sleep, the watchman roused Kel and they mounted again. The day was grey but dry, something for which Kel was grateful and they made good progress.

By nightfall, they were stiff and tired, but like good soldiers, there were no complaints and dinner was cooked stoically. They erected one shelter and set up bedrolls alongside each other. Conversation was bland, no one wanted to speak about what lay ahead. Even the usual banter between those who originated from the Own, Riders or Army was noticeably absent. Kel sensed that now they were on the road again, each man was missing the familiarity of the force they'd chosen to serve. She knew how they felt. Seeing Raoul's tired smile, or Dom's bright blue eyes at the end of the day would've made this gritty journey more bearable.

'Are you sure about this Lady Kel?' Rees asked dubiously, regarding their small shelter.

Kel raised her eyes.

'Kel,' Rees corrected impatiently. 'It's not well, it's not exactly appropriate.'

'If Scanrans were searching for us, would you hide in a cave with me?' Kel asked, continuing to inspect the map laid out upon her lap.

'Well yes, but-'

'We're on a mission.' Kel replied flatly, she needed to be clear on this now. 'Are you planning on behaving inappropriately towards Lyssa or myself?'

'No,' exclaimed the soldier, crossly, 'I'm a married man, my lady, but-'

'That's fine then. We will all sleep in our own bedrolls, yes in the same tent.' Kel's tone indicated the topic was closed.

Seb took the first watch, and despite the slight shifting and heavy breathing of her squad mates, Kel slipped into slumber quickly.

The route to Trebond was not a direct one; each squad had a separate route so as to avoid eighty warriors thundering up the same road in a short space of time. As such, Kel's squad only crossed paths with one other group on their journey north. Markus's, who'd had to stop for an afternoon whilst two of their horses were re-shod. The two groups acknowledged each other, giving no hint that there might be a deeper cause uniting them.

Saddlesore and tired, Kel and her squad arrived Trebond, still under the pretence of bearing a message from the King. If all had gone well, then the other squads would be camping wild in the land surrounding the fiefdom.

Baron Coram would pretend that the message contained instructions from the King concerning the storage of replacement mounts for the army. This would allow Kel's men to bring in their eighty horses without arising suspicion. Some of the squads would dress in civilian clothes, as horse-handlers whilst others would retain the red uniform, posing as guards for the train of horses.

Kel was led into the keep itself, peering out from underneath her helmet with interested gaze; this was the castle where the Lioness grew up. Only once she was in the study, did Kel remove her helmet and unwind her sweaty hair from the knot. Tucking her thumbs into her belt, she waited. The room was sparsely decorated apart from a prominent portrait of two red-haired twins, both depicted with imperious gazes and impeccably dressed. The dress-clad girl with violet eyes was clearly the young Alanna, the slightest hint of rebellion featured on the young face. However it was the boy who drew Kel's gaze most. If the painting was accurate then they really were identical. Kel often forgot that it was only because of her identical brother that Alanna had been able to make the switch in the first place. History told that the Lioness' twin brother had been a great sorcerer that had died during the coronation battle. Rumour said that he had brought the evil Duke back from the dead. It made the hairs on Kel's arms stand on end just thinking about it. If they ever managed to kill Maggur then she would want to make sure that he remained dead! She was jolted out of her thoughts by the creaking of an oak door to the right of the picture.

A big man with snow-white hair and a slightly shrunken appearance came through the opening frame to meet her. He leaned on a walking stick, and supported a buxom, sensibly-dressed woman with his other arm. Kel bowed to both as they entered. Coram Smythesson and Rispah Cooper had lived a quiet life away from court, owing perhaps to their common heritage, and Kel had never met either of them before.

'Lady Knight,' the man ducked his head stiffly, his eyes roaming over Kel. Rispah curtseyed slowly, but with dignity.

'It is an honour to welcome you to our home,' she said formally, her eyes were kind and crinkled at the corners.

'It is I who am honoured,' said Kel. She did not need to say that if it had not been for the actions of the man before her, then she might not have been standing there a knight. 'I thank you for allowing us to stop here.'

There was a tinkling bell and a maid entered with a tray laden with tea and sweet treats.

'Here, let us sit,' said Rispah, gesturing to leather chairs set before the hearth. 'My knees are not what they once were.'

Kel felt surprisingly nervous before the husband and wife. She wiped her hands on the red tunic, acutely aware of the state she was in after a week on the road.

'Just look at you lass,' said Coram, leaning back and resting his arms on his chest. 'My Alanna will be that proud.'

Coram and Rispah turned out to be extremely pleasant, down to earth people who had made excellent preparations for Kel's group to have a couple of days rest before leaving their horses and carrying on northwards. Once Kel was satisfied that everything was sorted, the conversation became less business-like. Supper was bought in and once she'd been assured that her men were receiving similar food downstairs, Kel tucked into the meal with gusto.

They spoke for a while on mutual friends, Coram entertaining Kel with memories of Raoul and Alanna during their training years. Coram, who had once been a blacksmith, was very impressed by Courage and spent a good few minutes examining the craftsmanship in detail.

The couple spoke often of their ten children and Kel was having trouble keeping up with who was who. She was surprised to realise that she'd already met Daran, in fact knew him quite well from her time in the Own. Various other Trebond children were fighting in the war it turned out, as Knights, squires or in the Riders. The couple had a vested interest in seeing the war finished,

'We just want them all back safely,' Rispah whispered, tears in the corners of her eyes.

Tears splashed silently onto the wooden table, slightly coarse breathing the only sign that Alex could hear of the woman's deep distress. They sat. Any words would've seemed empty, hollow in his mouth. He'd already made a cup of tea, which now sat untouched and cold before the grieving wife.

He had people he needed to meet, urgent things to arrange, but Alex couldn't bring himself to leave the widow's side. The swell of her belly was an ugly reminder that not only had a husband been lost today but also a father.

'It was quick,' the statement, made with a quavering voice, struck Alex like a blow.

'Yes,' he replied gruffly. 'The poison works in under a minute.'

He spoke of the tablet given to most of his freedom fighters which they were to take in event of discovery. It had saved poor Gilgean from death by torture, and had probably saved the lives of his family and others in Alex's network. The man, a baker by trade, had been smuggling shields in, beneath bags of flour, ready to be stashed in Hamrkeng when his cart had been subject to a rogue spot-check. From the moment the city guards had stopped his cart, he'd been a dead man.

'You should go,' Millyae told Alex. 'I'm sure you've more to be doing.'

'Is there anyone I can-'

'No, we'll be fine.' Millyae placed her left hand protectively on her bump. She was but twenty years old, married for only a year to Gilgean, who'd been supporting Alex before he'd even met her.

Alex was concerned, not only for the wellbeing of the young mother, but also for the security of his network.

'I can have you moved out, cared for-'

'No,' again the woman cut across him, her eyes stern through the tears. 'This was our home and his father's home before that. People rely on these ovens for their daily food. No one sells buns at our prices anymore. Besides,' she dashed her wet eyes on her sleeves, almost angry at herself for the tears. 'I want to be here when He falls.' She looked straight into Alex's hazel eyes. 'I want to be here when you ride down Main street. I want to be cheering with the rest, so we know that my love didn't die for nought. I want to live in this town till I die, and I want my babby to grow up, telling others of what a great man his Pa was, how his Pa helped to kill that,' she shook her fist, words unable to describe Maggur.

'Go, go,' she suddenly stood, clearing the un-drunk tea from before her and startling Alex. 'I'll see you at the usual meeting.'

Alex stood, bowed, clasped her arm, saluted and left without another word. He'd send Marthea around to check on the woman later.

Once outside Alex didn't bother to put on his jacket, despite the icy winds. The pinpricks of cold were welcome to permeate the numbness that had descended. He was being crushed with the weight of expectation. He was far more afraid of failing people like Millyae than he was of dying. Alex wanted to scream, cry out, kick things, release the tension that had been building inside him for years.

Instead, he suddenly found himself short of air, gasping like a fish out of water, he staggered like a drunkard into an alleyway. Crashing to the floor on his knees, Alex wept, his hands grabbing fistfuls of his own hair he rocked back and forth, completely alone in the depths of the Scanran night.

Not the most action-packed chapter, but we're getting nearer the finale!

Reviews would be much appreciated x