AUTHOR NOTE

Hey, this is my first attempt at a fan fiction for any series, and I thought where better to start than C.S Lewis's realm of Narnia? Recently I've been reading all the Narnia books over, and watching the films God knows how many times over, and have fallen in love with the idea of a fantasy realm which connects with our world. Every time I've watched the films or read the book I've had my own adaptations going on in my head, even as silly as 'What would I do if I was in that situation?' and that kind of a thing. Eventually I thought of this main character, a mysterious ranger type with more of a background than he lets on. I thought of what his ties could be with the Pevensies, and this whole story sort of advanced from that.

I don't know how often I will be updating this story, adding chapters and that, but I'd imagine it will be somewhere within the region of 2-4 weeks for a chapter. I can't say much more about the time frame of this project. All I know is that I hope for it to be a good experience for both me to write it and for you to read it. I have a fairly rough plan for the storyline, I've got the idea of a trilogy in my head and already I'm planning the next book's stories (even though I havent even started this one!), some bits of the plan are in detail and some bits far from it, so if you'd like to add in your own suggestions I could tweak the story to please you. Please review so I know how many I'm writing for (if I have no reviews I have no readers, and if I have no readers I may as well have no story), and just generally try to enjoy it!

So here it is, Talonstreak Avenged, Book 1 of the Talonstreak Trilogy.

Genre - Fantasy, Spiritual, Adventure.

Age - T - scenes shouldn't be too violent and there will be little, if no, sexual references or bad language.

The Chronicles of Narnia - Talonstreak Avenged

Chapter 1 - The Gentle Queen

OOOOO

The Autumn's Sun hung proudly over the lush terraces of the esteemed Cair Paravel when the man caught sight of the magnificent fortress. Its tall spires glistened, blinding silver as the golden rays of the young Sun reached out over it, in a loving embrace. The surrounding ice-white capped mountains hung in the distance, a magnificent backdrop for such majestic scene. To the east, beyond the bustling capital of the fortress settlement, the usually roaring sea was held in an iconic state of extreme calm. The slight wake reflected the amazing sunlight, which gently caressed the vast plain of deep blue.

The man smiled, an almost polite smile, not one of extreme gratitude. Like the kind of smile you'd smile if you saw an old acquaintance, not the sort of smile you'd smile if you saw your best friend waving across at you.

With a flick of his light brown, long and gorgeously straight hair, he walked forwards, a solemn kind of walk, as if knowing you aren't going to be accepted somewhere. His deep brown bow lay strapped over his right shoulder, alongside his ivory quiver, and he kept running his fingers over it, wondering if it was such a good idea to have his weapon behind his back, as he wandered into foreign territory. He decided against the idea of having it wielded beside him, as it was for the unsuspecting residents of the castle he was doing this.

If they wanted him dead, after all, it was their loss.

OoOoO

The young woman sat at her lightly furnished dressing table, located at the far Eastern end of what could only be described as a luxurious room that many can only dream of in our world. Of course, though, this is not our world. This is the fascinating, magical world of Narnia, a realm so unique that very few from our world have ever been there before, lest ever heard of it. It is a world full of Talking Beasts, Fauns, Naiads, Dryads, and many other mystical creatures found only really in old mythology from our world.

The last reported Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve in Narnia were the four noble Kings and Queens whose stories feature heavily in this tale. In our world they were just regular boys and girls, two brothers and two sisters, Peter, the eldest, Susan, Edmund and the youngest of them all, Lucy.

They lived in Finchley during the Second World War, and while their Father was away at war, they were evacuated to the house of one Digory Kirke. From there, they found a magical wardrobe that led them to the world in which this tale is set. There, they defeated a ferocious Witch, Jadis, who was self-proclaimed Queen of that land. Then the deity of that world, a mystical lion who goes by the name of Aslan, granted them the thrones of the land for their triumph, and it is but a few months later that we return to them now.

This woman, who was none other than Queen Susan the Gentle, dazed as her conscience went out to her brother, High King Peter the Magnificent, who right now was battling hags, Talking Wolves, and who knows what else as the Narnians set out to destroy small pockets of resistance that remained from the White Witch's service. Narnia was a happy place, with fair rulers and little fighting. No serious wars were going to be waged for a long while, everyone philosophised, as they went about their happy business.

The Queen wore the most brilliantly green silk robes, draping from her shoulders down to her silver knee-boots. The seams were patterned gold, and they wove in and out of each other, mimicking the movements of the two Dryads weaving in and out of Susan's way, brushing her shining brown hair, moisturising and conditioning the soft, sensuous tips. Dryads, or Tree Spirits as they are often referred to in texts of our world, are mysterious creatures; humanoid shapes, with human shadows, but if you ever looked upon one you would never have thought to call it human. For the human shape was entwined with leaves, bark and beautiful figures, not a sound being made when their feet touched the floor, as they worked about making Susan's already stunning beauty even more sublime.

Susan was the kind of Queen that nations fought wars over, and people did terrible things to obtain, in texts from our history. However, this was not so in Narnia. Do not let you think that this means people did not admire her beauty in Narnia, but very few of them ever felt the desire or the greed for her to be theirs.

She had the most deep, stunning brown eyes one could ever have laid eyes on. Her silky, long brown hair reached her waist with a subtle flick and her lips shone as the Sun gleamed upon them. Little, if no, make-up was her style, and she managed to retain her natural beauty with surprising ease.

As she looked into the mirror, dreaming about her brother at war, worrying for her brother's safety, she also thought back to home, and what life was like in Finchley. But no, this did not feel right. The thought of Finchley being called home seemed alien to her. As her mother and father's faces both faded away from her memory, she reflected upon what 'home' really was.

Was it where she was born? No, the dusty, cobbled streets of Leeds didn't seem to satisfy her definition of home. The house where she had spent the best part of her life? No, no matter how often she used to refer to the dull brick-worked building as home, when she used to live there, it did not feel right.

Well what, then, was home to her? Surely not the land which she had only been resident of for no more than a few months? The land which she had only so recently been accepted in? But thinking deeper, she realised that home was the term only to define the place where she felt right.

Back in Finchley, she had few acquaintances and fewer friends. Even they were not genuine friends; they spoke badly of her behind her back and abused her when she was with them. No, those faces meant nothing to the young Queen anymore, as if they did anyway. Here, in Narnia, everyone not only accepted her, but loved her, for what she was.

But what was she? Sure, she was a bright girl. She wasn't afraid to admit it. She did well in school and got by in life. Her temperament was unmatched by others, and she used her logic to her advantage. But this didn't make her Nobility material. A whole nation of people who had never known of her a few months before had willingly accepted her as their ruler. She was almost glad that they saw her skills as monarch, because quite frankly, she doubted herself as Queen. She wasn't cut out for the high life. Sure, back in Finchley, she'd been to a few 'posh-do's', and she did like being treated like an upper class resident, at times, but every day was a bit much.

Her role, she felt, in this world had already been cut out for her; she just had to fill the gap. It may seem easy, being called 'Your Majesty' and 'Queen' constantly, but in reality it is so hard. People put their faith in you, and you were responsible for their well-being. Susan couldn't cope with the strain, in honesty, so she masked it with courteous bows and longing smiles.

Peter was the perfect King. A natural swordsman and a strong, forward head to match, his title of 'the Magnificent' perfectly matched his well-being. The old loved and cherished him, the young looked up to him as the person they all aspired to be. He could lead armies into battle, any number against any number, and come out on top.

As for Edmund, 'the Just', what he lacked in strength, he made up for with words and diplomatic skills that were unheard of in our world. He could unite a people so lost in their own grudges that everyone else had lost hope in them, without breaking a sweat. Although saying this, he was also deadly on the field of battle.

And Susan's youngest sibling, Lucy, was something else entirely. Being the first one through the wardrobe door from our land, she has never lost hope in the people of Narnia. She had the sweet air of innocence that could end a battle as quickly as one of her brothers started it. Her healing cordial that Father Christmas gave to her in her first days of Narnia fully reflected her subtle, yet amazing power of being able to help people. Sure Pete and Ed could win wars and help nations rise (and fall), but not a lot was more powerful than being able to help single people at any one time.

But Susan, what did Susan have? Good looks, and the ability to do well in class? These things helped a lot back at school, in Finchley. It allowed lads to get a good look at her and her grades always came out on top, but for a Monarch, she really needed something else. Something for the people. Her people. Something to help them out of the situations that lay ahead, political or individually. Something she lacked.

The Queen was awoken from her trance as a young looking Faun ran into her room. Fauns were odd little creatures, with the bottom half of a two legged goat, the torso of a human, and the head, also, of a human, but with little devil-like horns. They were usually a very loyal, friendly people, but were often shaky and nervous souls. They specialised in Diplomacy, resolving situations with their clever use of words. Susan, with a quick shake of her head, hid her previous feelings under another mask as the Faun looked at her with a sense of urgency.

This particular little Faun was very nervous looking, and clearly very young. His skin was untarnished, and his furry legs were a soft beige colour, the usual colour of a Faunlet's fur. Around his bare torso he wore a white sash, outlined with navel green patterns. His little horns were hardly visible as they protruded from his head.

He bowed extremely low, and was left in that position for a fair few seconds until the Gentle Queen pardoned him. With a shy look on his face, he looked bravely into Susan's eyes, his heart clearly pounding.

"Your Majesty, a Stranger approaches the Cair." he said formally. Susan took slight interest. Strangers at the fortress castle of Cair Paravel were not an uncommon sight. Many foreigners sought alliances with the Narnian nobles.

"Armed?" she asked shortly.

"No, he has a bow but he remains unarmed. I think its dangerous sign."

Susan suddenly looked up. This was her chance to prove herself as the Queen she was made to be. Facing a possible danger head on, alone, risking her life, Susan knew she could prove not only to her people, but to herself too, that she was worthy of the throne that was too easily given to her.

"Do not grow into the habit of coming to rash conclusions, for it will not fair thee well, little one. I shall meet with him alone." she cautioned menacingly. The Faun retreated a little, clearly scared in the face of a Queen.

"Your Majesty..."

"If it will go any way to making you feel better, I'll go armed, but I shall see what he has to offer."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall make sure you are reinforced from the Cair..." said the little Faun shyly.

"Just...go." snapped Susan.

The young Faun scampered off, his little legs shaking wildly. Susan felt she had been a little bit too harsh, but quickly let it go and jumped off her small stool, picking up her light brown short bow and cream white, gold trimmed quiver on the way.

She was going to prove herself. She was.

OoOoO

The man heard his hollow footsteps echo across the courtyard as the tan wrappings around his feet transferred from the softness of the muddy earth to the hard, cold stone of the castle's carved paving. His bow still strapped across the shoulder of his faded, brown linen vest, he walked forward with a false sense of confidence. The Sun's heat was absorbed by his dark brown leather trousers, gilded with gold seams.

He increased the magnitude of his cocky swagger, but inside, he was worrying. He had never been to a place as grand as this, as a visitor. Well, he thought visitor, but they weren't expecting him. In fact, he doubted their hospitality would overrule their hostility towards such a man.

He was taking a big risk, but he knew it would pay if he made it in alive.

OoOoO

Susan strode through the vibrant halls of marble and stone, bow and quiver safely behind her back. She felt secure with them on her, as she was becoming a better shot and a better markswoman. The man who had given her this finely crafted weapon, none other than Father Christmas himself, had said to her upon handing her the bow, that "It does not easily miss."

Within days of training with it, she had begun to realise just what he meant. Through some sort of magic, she had guessed, the bow's aim would automatically drift to where she wanted to shoot. Of course, this is not to say that using the weapon required no skill, but when she was to put her trust into the bow, she found it a lot easier to use.

She reached the entrance to the castle quickly, being taught all of the shortcuts and passages throughout the marble building carefully upon arrival.

The entrance was a huge circular room, with large, varnished oak double-doors on the one side, and with a double staircase opposite. The walls were plastered with painting-frames of old monarchs, mostly all Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve. Directly to the right of the doors, there were four empty frames. These were to be filled soon, as the Faun who had been given the task had not yet finished his set of masterpieces.

Across the jagged stone floor, lay a large red carpet which ran from the doors, into a large circle in the centre of the room, and then back to a path as it split up the winding double staircase.

Susan walked quickly across this carpet, heaving open the heavy wooden doors on the opposite side of the grand room. Through the doors lay a stone courtyard; a rectangle of stone immediately outside of the castle, with six large stone pillars surrounding it, three on each side. The cracks in the pillars became more apparent now, but this just added to the tone of the fortress. Susan looked up and saw her challenge directly in front of her, as she stood at the top of the large set of marble leading steps from the door.

The man seemed to have seen her too, as he walked across the stone of the courtyard. The wind rustled the leaves in the surrounding trees slightly as the stranger kept his pace constant. Susan, feeling threatened more than anything, pulled her bow from behind her back as she started the advance down the steps.

By the time she had reached the bottom, the stranger was already halfway across the stone. She drew a red-feathered arrow from her quiver, as the stranger stopped his stride, at the very centre of the landmark. Susan felt her confidence grow, and nocking her arrow to her bowstring, she advanced on the man in full battle posture.

He smiled, half egotistically, and half warily, at this sight that most would be intimidated by.

"Queen Susan, the Gentle?" he asked with a hint of irony, a hand over his brow, shielding his eyes from the Sun. "I see that title befits you, your majesty." He had an unexpectedly gentle voice, not like the rough shaggy voice Susan was expecting. Still, his soft, dulcet tones did nothing to hide the cocky arrogance of his greeting.

He must think he's so funny, mused Susan. The Imposing Queen was not so amused; "Talk or die, bandit. I have no time for petty games." She snapped shortly.

"Is this how you treat all of your guests?"

"Don't talk such rot. You stand before Royalty, far nobler than you shall ever have the good fortune to look upon in your self-served numbered days."

"As I am most humbly aware, your Majesty. However, this does not alter the fact that I impossibly outbest you in skills with a bow. Something worth noting for an archer as amateur as yourself, your Majesty."

This man was beginning to anger Susan. The way he finished everything with the almost sarcastic use of her title was infuriating. She could swear that this man was purposefully trying to annoy her. Yet this did not distract her from his words.

The Queen tried to dismiss his challenge of archery skills, yet she couldn't help noticing the stranger's brilliantly dark brown bow, lined all over with exotic gold engravings, and the way his fingers twitched occasionally, begging for a bowstring to be laid in them. She recognised this master-bowman's trait from her Centaurian trainer, Austierre, and suddenly felt Goosebumps emanate from her skin.

Susan had not felt this intimidated in a long while, and she had met many intimidating nobles from other lands over the past few months.

At this time, a small crowd of many stern faces had gathered on the inside of the open doors. Made up of Centaurs and Fauns, they all tensed up at every step that Susan took towards the finely attuned man, every breath she uttered. Heading the crowd, Susan noticed as she quickly glanced back, was her little sister Lucy.

She was easily recognisable from her tiny stature and beaming innocence. Her light, fairy brown hair reached just past her shoulders, as if it was being grown out of a bob. It was topped by a delicate golden circlet, intertwining in different shades of the soft yellow metal. She bore a vibrant red, silken dress crafted only by the finest dwarf-crafters in all of Ettinsmoor, a gift from over the border to solidify an ancient alliance. The silks were the kind that we can only dream of ever seeing in our world.

Susan, however, took no real notice of this occurrence and continued the slow, steady approach on the stranger, keeping her deep brown eyes, and not to mention her bow's aim, directly upon him.

"Don't tempt me, bandit." she answered his challenge fiercely.

"Your Majesty," he started. Susan had had quite enough of this false use of her title. Any second now she would snap. "With all due respect, I grow weary of your empty threats." Any second, and he would regret being so arrogant and cocky. "I know you won't release that arrow," Any second, and she would prove herself to be a true Queen. "You don't have the guts." An overwhelming rage consumed Susan at this point.

All that could be heard was a soft twang as the arrow left the string. Within the second, it had sunk itself quite nicely in the man's chest, causing him to bleed profusely. She had aimed at the heart, and she just stood, shocked, bow still up and in her hand as the arrow had hit home. Within an instant the stranger had crippled to the floor and lay motionless. The crowd behind Susan stayed solemnly still, as the little girl at the front ran out down the steps screaming at Susan. Susan couldn't quite make out what she was saying, as her whole world became a blur.

Lucy knelt beside the motionless figure lying on the floor, as she drew out a vial containing an overpowering red liquid. As she poured a drop over the wound and a drop in the gaping man's mouth, all Susan could take note of was the blood.

Gushing out of the wound, covering the stone paving all around the lifeless body, the Queen quickly realised that the man's life hung empty because of her. As the area of blood upon the floor increased dramatically, the young Queen realised this was not noble. This was not what the people wanted. And now a possible innocent lay on the floor in front of her.

She quickly returned to her senses as she ran towards her sister, still kneeling across the body, keeping his head above the level of the rest of his body. She knew what she had to do. Cringing to herself, she snapped the arrow protruding from his heart in two, and threw the feathered end to the floor.

With a hard grimace, and after mustering all of her will, she pushed the barbed end of the arrow, already lodged nicely in place, through his body and out of the other side. Susan had been taught that this was the only way to remove an arrow from the body, and it wasn't a pretty affair. We can only be thankful that the stranger was not conscious at this point, or else he would be in a world of pain. Lucy reached over and dropped another drop of her wild-red liquid on the wound, the droplet sizzling into steam as it came into contact with the wound.

Susan couldn't take anymore. She had pulled the arrow out of his body (which now lay, broken in two pieces, on the blood covered floor next to him), and this had been enough for her. She had to get away. She was already blood shy and the fact that all of the blood was on her hands was just too much for her.

The Queen stood up to her full height, and, focusing all of herself into not throwing up in front of everybody, pushed her way through the amassing crowd of advisors, as they struggled to move out of the way fast enough.

Too much had happened that afternoon, and as Susan reflected on her rash decision, she quickly came to terms with the fact that she really wasn't good enough to help her subjects. As she walked, with pace, back to the her quarters, she thought on how she couldn't even hold her rage against someone who didn't even offer so much as a threat to her. She had to change, for the good of her people.

She had to change, for the good of herself.

OOOOO