Rowen felt a lot better when she stepped into camp.

Firstly, it smelled much better. Also, it was a lot quieter.

Wounded soldiers were rushed to two huge white tents. Sounds of pain could be heard from inside, but many soldiers came out, bandaged and hurt, but smiling widely. Some with casts headed toward a huge stock of two-person flighters, each with a brightly smiling færie manning them.

Another few huge tents occasionally spat out freshly rested soldiers. They laughed and joked, gathering around what looked like a large soup pot in the middle of the tents.

All these tents were arranged in a semicircle, with an opening facing the battlefield. One tent sat opposite the opening. It was royal blue and heavily guarded. The king.

If this is war, this isn't too bad, thought Rowen as she hurried toward the tents. She got some strange looks, probably due to her lack of wings, but did not deign to acknowledge them.

"Halt," the two guard guarding the entrance to the semicircle said in unison.

Rowen internally groaned. Were these the guards who had escorted her and Jason to the safe chamber in the initial attack? It seemed like so long ago, but she still remembered how creepy these guys had been.

"Hey, guys!" she tried. "Remember me?"

"Are you."

"The One?"

"Yes! That's me! May I go see the king now?"

"Wait."

"Here."

Rowen massaged her temples as the weird guards stalked across the camp and into the king's tent. Glancing around, she quickly followed them and stood outside of the king's tent, mustering her courage.

"Come in!" the voice of the king called out.

Rowen jumped slightly and pushed the thick fabric out of her way as she quickly took in the tent's interior.

In the center was a table, where dirty plates, bowls, cups, and silverware lay. It looked as though the king took all his meals in this tent. The dirty dishes were resting on the edges of a map of Thanría.

To the left of the tent was a neatly made cot. On it lay what looked like a scrapbook. A picture of the royal family was pasted to the cover. Rowen wouldn't have thought the king was the type of man to have scrapbooks, but she found it sweet. She briefly wondered where the queen was, but supposed she was at the castle, holding down the fort, so to speak.

She turned to find the king seated next to the entrance. His face was clammy and pale. His arm was wrapped in a pristine white cast and cloth. One scarlet drop of blood stained the material wrapped around his hand.

"You made it here okay?" asked the king, almost like a concerned father.

"Fine. Are Jason and Maria - "

"They're here and Maria is being personally attended to by our best medics. Jason is being guarded in his tent as he..." The king waved his hand weakly. "Does his vision thing."

Rowen smiled. "Are you all right...um, your highness?" She had no idea whether or not that was the correct term in this situation.

The king laughed. "A sword coated in giant blood. Dirty substance." He huffed in annoyance. "Anyway, it's healing as we speak. And you do not need to address me formally, my dear. Not after..." The king sighed, running his good hand over his face. "Anyway, we're winning, barely. Can - can you help us?"

Rowen nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah. I'm okay with a sword and I have a lot of magical weapons...but I'm not sure how to use most of them."

"We can help you with that," the king assured her. "Do you want to see Maria first?"

"Yes, please!" Rowen said eagerly. Then, "Um, is she okay enough to be getting visitors?"

"She'll be fine. We have our best working on her, like I said." The king pointed to the left wall of his tent. "That way and a bit into the woods. Can't miss it."

"Thank you, sir." But, as Rowen turned to leave, he asked the question she had been dreading.

"And what of the traitor?

"What of Ayren Quinn?"

*

Ayren was relentless. He tore through ogre soldiers who only days ago he would have considered allies. Every one he cut down, he cut down with fury.

This is Terr.

Slice.

This is my father.

Stab.

Finally, he turned his thoughts to revenge.

This is for my younger self.

Cut.

This is for the kingdom.

Chop.

This is for my mother.

Slice.

This is for Jason.

Stab.

This is for Princess Maria.

Cut.

This...this is for Rowen.

Chop.

Sometimes, a lucky swordsman managed to nick him and occasionally draw a few drops of blood.

That lucky swordsman soon wished he hadn't.

Finally, Ayren felt himself begin to tire. He took off into the air to find a safe resting place.

He knew his limits. And he wasn't planning to die today.

As he rested in a tree near the edge of the forest, he surveyed the battle. The king's army seemed to be pulling ahead, but only a little.

We need a plan.

*

"What of him, your majesty?" Rowen asked as calmly as possible.

"What happened to him? Where is he now?"

"He left after your call. Probably returned to T - the enemy." Rowen tried to steady her heart as she remembered that she would have no way of knowing Terr's name if not for Ayren.

"Alright. You may go." As Rowen was halfway out of the tent, he called after her, "You're a horrible liar, Miss One. I wouldn't suggest ever playing poker."

Rowen fled to Maria's tent.

*

Maria finally looked peaceful.

She was clean and dressed in a thin white nightgown. Her hair was combed and lay carefully behind her on a puffy white pillow. Maria was lying on top of the puffy white sheets accompanying the pillow.

Her nails were trimmed and her hands were soaking in two bowls of hot water. The bandage on her toe stump had been changed, and doubtlessly the wound had been cleaned as well. As Rowen watched, a pretty, brown-haired færie slipped thick, fuzzy socks onto her friend's feet.

Maria was fast asleep. She looked so happy and comfortable...Rowen finally felt like her work was done.

The tent flap rustled behind her and she turned to see Jason entering the tent. "Hey," she greeted him, smiling widely.

"Hey." He seated himself on a chair next to Maria's bed.

"Wait, I thought you were in some tent having visions...?"

Jason deflated. "I know. I just..."

"Don't want to?"

He sighed. "Pretty much."

"You don't have to," Rowen said firmly. "Maria probably likes that you're here, anyway."

"You think?" Jason smiled fondly down at their best friend.

Suddenly, Rowen realized what was going on. She realized why Jason had been so broken up about Maria's disappearance and why he had been so adamant about rescuing her. It was all completely out of character for the calm, comic teenager. He hadn't been able to focus on anything else, not really.

Rowen smiled a knowing smile and left the tent.

A young man awaited her.

"Are you the One?" he asked in a solemn, deep voice.

"Um...yeah." It felt so weird to be publicly known as an all-powerful prophetic figure.

"I am here to train you in the use of magical weapons."

"Oh. Great." Rowen smiled awkwardly. She took off the two bags she had strapped to her shoulders and handed them to the man.

As he rifled through the contents, his eyes widened and he lost his comically serious tone. "Oh, goodness. There's some...pretty illegal stuff in here."

"Sorry. We got this stuff from an ogre prison, so..."

The man's eyes widened. Rowen could tell he hadn't heard her whole story. It was way too long and confusing to put in a nutshell, so she just smiled again and asked mildly, "Where are we training?"