"If evil has the same kind of reality as good, the same autonomy and completeness, our allegiance to good becomes the arbitrarily chosen loyalty of a partisan."
~ C.S. Lewis
The tiny bell above the door of the Worlds' End Inn tinkled softly, allowing a chilling howl of storm-winds to invade the tavern's warmth. The semi-shadowed figure that stood framed by a flash of lightning was little over two feet high, its shape hidden under a dark grey hood.
It sloshed in, leaving small puddles in its steps, before awkwardly pushing the heavy timber door shut with both of its diminutive front paws. Paws that pulled back the hood to reveal a short furred snout that sniffed the air experimentally.
The figure appeared to be that of a large bipedal mouse covered in dark, almost black, fur. Upon his brow, sat a gold band flourished by a single scarlet feather. At his hip, hung a thin elegant rapier. Beyond these and the soaking-wet traveling cloak he quickly divested himself of, the over-sized rodent was completely unclothed.
If the handful of other patrons scattered about the tavern were startled by the entrance of such an outlandish figure, they gave no little sign of it.
"Oi, Reepicheep! Ye look like a drowned rat," the innkeeper bellowed affectionately from behind the bar. He was a portly, vaguely bear-like man who hopped about on one leg and a crutch with remarkable, almost bird-like, dexterity.
"And you look like a shameless rogue as always, Silver, but I'll be warm on the 'morrow!" the mouse hailed back merrily. He nimbly clambered up a bar-stool before standing upright upon the seat to gain a better vantage point.
"Looking 'fer someone, 'cheep?" the innkeeper asked, arching a brow.
"I was expecting to meet someone here; white robes, white beard, white staff... bushy eyebrows?" the mouse answered uncertainly.
"Ol' Stormcrow? 'Aven't seen him in here in ages. Though this is just the sorta night he'd turn up on." The innkeeper gestured to the windows, beyond which the reality-storm still raged.
"Lion willing," Reepicheep spoke softly, staring into the maelstrom.
"Here. 'ow 'bout I set ye up with a table by the fire and something warm to fill yer belly while ye wait?" the innkeeper offered.
"That would be much appreciated," Reepicheep answered, placing a heavy gold coin, stamped with the image of a lion, upon the bar before heading to his table.
"Bon apatit!" the innkeeper spoke cheerily returned with a small bowl of steaming hot stew a few minutes later. He had had the foresight to provide the small mouse with cutlery appropriate to his size. The Worlds' End stood at a crossroads between countless Worlds, so Silver was well used to accommodating patrons of all shapes and sizes.
"Thank you," Reepicheep nodded as the innkeeper bowed out to attend to one of the other patrons.
The stew tasted thin and weak. Reepicheep would have suspected the innkeeper of watering it down if he didn't know the old pirate so well. Silver may have been a thief, a liar and a cut-throat; but he took far too much pride in his own cooking to stoop so low.
No, Reepicheep knew what was really wrong. Everything tasted thin outside Aslan's country. Colours were less vivid, smells fainter, music tinny and distant. Everything felt just ever so slightly unreal in the Shadowlands; the Worlds most folk took for 'Reality'.
Reepicheep laughed at the thought. Most of the countless living thinking beings scattered across Infinity had no idea what Reality truly was. Sadly, many never would.
Yet when the King of All The Worlds had offered him the opportunity to serve as His Herald to the rest of Infinity, Reepicheep had jumped at the chance. It was an honour after all.
Reepicheep eased into the padded high-backed chair and stared into the fire, wondering dreamily how long it would be before he set eyes upon the shores of utter East once more?
[-]
Reepicheep must have dozed off, for the next thing the knightly mouse knew; the fire had died completely, the night outside was still and he was completely alone in the tavern.
"Silver?"
The bell above the door chimed once more and Reepicheep felt a chill crawl up the nape of his neck, like a wind called down from the stars themselves. Somewhere behind him, footsteps creaked softly on the ancient floor boards.
"Finally, I was beginning to..." the mouse turned before trailing off. He rose into a courtly bow, doffing the gold circlet upon his brow. "Oh... I beg your pardon, madam. I thought you were... someone else."
The stranger was a tall, slim woman, clad in suit and overcoat of deepest black, eyes hidden behind deep-violet tinted glasses. She was young and handsome, with smooth slate-grey skin. She removed her hat, revealing not a single visible hair upon her head; save for the pleated false-beard affixed to her chin.
All and all, she struck Reepicheep like something between an ancient pharaoh and a traveling saleswoman.
"My apologies for disturbing your sleep, valiant one." the stranger spoke with a voice like the soft rippling of a twilight stream as she bowed. "May I join you? The night is long and I have walked so very far."
Reepicheep nodded silently to the seat opposite "I'll tend the fire."
"No need," the stranger interjected, passing between Reepicheep and the fireplace, blocking the mouse's view. A moment later, cool greenish flames leapt from the embers, casting curious shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. "There... we must have our creature comforts, mustn't we?"
"Sir Reepicheep, Order of the Lion, at your service," the mouse spoke before retaking his seat. "I'm afraid I did not catch your name, Madam...?"
"Names are such peculiar things, an attempt to encapsulate an entity's entire essence within a few spoken syllables. As though our very identity was not ever shifting, like the phases of the moon. Still, I suppose we must settle on something for conveniences' sake..." The stranger stroked her false-beard contemplatively, as though puzzling over a crossword.
"Call me... Nikola," the dark woman spoke with a satisfied grin as though she had just solved a difficult riddle. "It is a humble name, one I've not used in a long time."
Reepicheep's whiskers bristled suspiciously. "Where I come from, madam, most honest folk are content with just one name?"
"Ah, but what honest soul is ever truly just one thing?" the stranger mused. "We each contain within us, a thousand other selves. Each mask we wear only reveals yet another aspect of our true face. Even your own Master wears many names; Eru Ilúvatar, Maleldil, Mitra... Aslan."
Reepicheep's stance softened somewhat at the mention of his King. He still did not entirely trust this stranger. Yet he had known no evil creature to ever speak the Lion's Name so openly, without even a trace of fear. At least, no evil creature who was not also stupidly ignorant.
"You know Aslan?" the mouse asked, leaning forward expectantly.
"The Great Lion who sang the very stars into existence at the First Dawn?" the stranger chuckled darkly. "Only by reputation."
"I fail to see what's so amusing, madam?"
"Forgive me, valiant one, I meant no offence," the stranger continued. "It is only that in my Father's court, we tell a very... different version of that tale."
"Your father?" Reepicheep asked curiously.
"My Father is a mighty Sultan, valiant one, and His empire stretches without bounds. His court is a place of wonders, where We dance in eternal ecstasy about His throne. Oh, and there is music... such music," the stranger sighed wistfully, steepling her fingers as she leaned back in her chair. "But He is so very old, and His mind is... gone" The stranger made a vague gesture. "So my siblings and I are left to our own devices... mostly."
"Must have been rather noisy growing up?"
"You have no idea."
"I'm a mouse, madam," Reepicheep laughed. "If there's one thing we understand its large families."
"No, you really don't," the stranger spoke icily.
"Yes, well..." Reepicheep shifted awkwardly, wondering if it would be impolite to risk a quick glance over his shoulder at the inn door.
"He's not coming," the stranger spoke with an air of finality.
"Madam, I may be a knight..." Reepicheep spoke low, placing a paw on the hilt of his rapier. "But if you've harmed my comrade, do not expect your sex to shield you!"
"I've done nothing to your little friend. I only wanted a moment alone with you. I think it's long past time we... parlayed."
Reepicheep drew his rapier with a metallic hiss. "I would have your name, madam," he whispered coolly. "Your True Name."
"Oh put that silly thing away, little rat-thing," the stranger drawled. "I am, like yourself, simply a humble Herald. My Father may be a Blind Idiot, but someone must attend to His affairs."
"Ah..." Reepicheep's eyes narrowed. "So you are the one they call the Crawling Chaos?"
"You know me?" The stranger beamed, lips peeling back in a smile that seem slightly too wide.
"Only by reputation, a creature that takes many shapes to walk between the Worlds, spreading terror and torment with no rhyme or reason," Reepicheep spat. "I am not impressed."
"Hardly without rhyme or reason," the thing hiding behind a human face grinned obscenely. "I bring only Truth. It's hardly my fault most mortal minds are far too small and fragile to contain it."
"I have beheld the Face of Truth, daemon..." the knightly mouse snarled. "You would quail before It."
"Please tell me you're not that naive," the daemon sneered. "After walking the paths of Infinity, watching entire universes ravaged by chaos, death and entropy, you can't possibly still believe your master wields any real power outside his own especial dreamlands?"
Reepicheep made no response as he kept his blade level.
"Here is Truth," the daemon leaned forward 'til the point of Reepicheep's blade pressed against the skin of its throat. "Existence is meaningless. It was molded without care or plan by the Primal Chaos, like the paws of a blind ape, then cast aside without another thought."
"Meaning is like light, if there were none in all Creation, we should never have learned it was dark," Reepicheep countered smoothly, a sly grin playing across his lips.
"Oh what cunning argument," the daemon cooed. "A philosopher and a knight?"
"You speak an old lie, daemon; the same lie which once fell from Jadis and Tash's poisoned lips," Reepicheep drawled. "Though even they were never so foolish as to entirely believe it."
"They never beheld the Black Throne at the center of Ultimate Chaos," the daemon hissed. "Where the True Creator writhes in madness, dreaming that which It cannot understand."
"Please do not equate my Liege with that poor broken creature you prop up to excuse your own depravity," Reepicheep protested.
"The White Witch and the Father of Tisrocs were, in their own way, as deluded as you. They thought themselves rebels, yet played the roles written for them down to the letter. If your precious Lion is truly all you claim, then he already knew of their betrayal since before he gave them form." The daemon's head tilted quizzically. "Who do you think kindled such fatal ambition in their hearts in the first place?"
"Jadis and Tash were offered every chance to turn back from their paths before it was too late," Reepicheep sighed sadly. "As are you..."
"How merciful of you," the daemon mewled mockingly. "But we are all slaves to our natures and I can no more alter my own than you can yours. The only difference is, I am under no illusions about what I really am."
"Enough prattle, beast," Reepicheep snapped. "Either draw a blade or state what you came for."
"Peace, valiant one. Had I meant you any real ill, your master would have intervened by now." The daemon raised gloved hands in placation. "Despite what you may believe, neither I nor my kin have ever had any real quarrel with the Lion. In fact, We come to offer your master a peace."
"You can't be serious?" Reepicheep drawled, lowering his blade slightly.
"Our terms are simple enough," the stranger spoke. "Forsake those Worlds where We have already staked our claim, those beyond saving and lost to Chaos, and We will leave the rest of Infinity for the Lion to do with as he pleases?"
No sooner had the words left daemon's lips than the entire tavern and the earth beneath shook with the sound of a low rumbling, like the growl of some mighty beast.
The daemon was still for a long moment afterwards, before arching a single hairless eyebrow.
"I believe you have your answer, fiend," Reepicheep smirked, sheathing his rapier with a satisfied flourish.
"Well... We tried to be reasonable," the daemon sighed, donning its black hat before rising. "Whatever happens next be on you own heads."
Reepicheep eyes never left the daemon as it made its way to the inn door. The heavy oaken panels flung open as though under their own power, revealing nuaght but a darkness filled with a discord like the monotonous whine of atonal flutes or the maddened pounding of titan drums.
The daemon stood framed in the darkness, before turning back to fix its gaze on the mouse."Farewell, Sir Reepicheep. Pray to your Lion that you may never meet me in my thousand other forms, and beware; for I am Nyarlathotep."
The violet-tinted glasses fell from its eyes, revealing twin pits that seemed to open into limitless abysses wherein drifted dying stars and the corpses of planets pitted with ruined cities like open sores...
[-]
"Reepicheep... Reepicheep...?"
The knightly mouse's eyes snapped open to gaze open an ancient face, framed by flowing silver hair and beard, crowned with wild bushy eyebrows. It's wearer was clad in robes of whitest samite, and leaned on a staff of ivory.
"Olórin...?" Reepicheep muttered weakly. "You're late."
"I am never late, old friend," the White Rider spoke with slight indignation. "Though the reality-storm was slightly more... turbulent than I had expected."
Reepicheep trembled as he looked around. The tavern was as it had been before, the fire burned red and steady while the innkeeper and the rest of the tavern' patrons tossed him curious looks.
"Are you alright, Reepicheep?" the White Rider asked. "You were trashing in your sleep?"
"It's... it's nothing, old friend," Reepicheep whispered, managing a faint smile.
"Just... bad dreams."
The End.