The Chronicles of Narnia

The Red Queen

Peter Pevensie blew out the candle lights in the long hall, all except for the one he held. It was late in the night and all asleep. He regularly did a round check on each of his siblings each night before he turned in himself. All was dark and still in the professor's large manor. This was their home now. Which reminded him of their poor mother, who eventually died of grief. The professor, who had become fond of the children since their first visit, had started letting them spend the summers there in between school. Then after Mother had passed, he offered it to them as a home.

It was summer again now. Peter was home from the university which he attended. At nineteen he was a more a man now than the boy he once was. It had definitely been a long hard year. The others still grieved, even after all this time, they missed her so much. Peter had to swallow his own sadness to take care of them and go to school at the same time. The sale of their London home, which the professor had helped with, had retrieved enough for them to live comfortably on while they were all still being schooled.

He flopped backwards onto his bed, his ash blond hair splayed across the navy colored blanket. He stared into the ceiling. Its off white tone set the contrast of the bronze painted plaster work around the light fitting. It was times like this when things seemed to weigh heavily, that he would wish he was back in Narnia. Peter began to fall asleep. He closed his blue-grey eyes and fell into a dream.

…He was standing in a dark forest, damp, and full night sounds. He felt something nuzzle his hand. It was a soft furry muzzle. He looked down and saw the great lion at his side. The great lion said to follow. They seemed to walk forever in the lush jungle that was covered by night. Leaves and undergrowth crunched softly under each step. When they came to a large field the great lion stopped. He stared at the mountain in the distance. Its peak was high in the night sky lit by the moon.

"This is no ordinary mountain High King," the great lion said. "Your destiny is imprisoned inside."

It was almost like everything in the distance came rushing forth all at once. The High King found himself and the great lion on the side of this dark mountain. The great lion tapped a huge paw on the ground beneath them.

"Inside," he said.

Then it was like the mountainside beneath them crumbled, and into the mountain they fell. Then they stopped. They had landed on their feet and the hole had which they fell ceased to exist. They were inside the mountain, but as the great lion said, it was not an ordinary mountain. Hot molten lava pooled and crashed up the sides. The heat caused the High King to sweat and the dryness restrained his breathing, even the great lion looked affected. Beads of sweat had formed on his muzzle.

They stood on a rocky platform in the centre of the searing liquid. A large splash on the side of the platform caught the loose sleeve of the High King's shirt, causing it to burn in that spot. The High King stepped back in surprise and fear from the edge. The High King stumbled as he bumped backwards into something. The great lion told him to turn. The High King turned and ignored the fire and the heat.

Inside a case of stone-like ice there was a woman. She was pale and beautiful in her slumber. The High king could hear a thumping rhythm, like a heartbeat, swelling inside the volcano there with him. Her red wavy hair, like fire, was spread about her face and shoulders like a crimson halo. A shear red shroud blanketed her still form. The High King reached forward…

Peter woke up. He was breathing hard and soaked with sweat. What a dream, he thought. He had been with Aslan, and there was a woman trapped in a volcano. He couldn't remember if she looked dead or alive. And that drumming noise, he couldn't place it. But she was definitely lingering in his memory. Aslan. Did he need the Pevensies? Peter felt sure this wasn't a normal dream about Narnia. There was something else to it. He was sure of it. Frustrated he tossed the damp navy cover on the floor. His clothes were wet and clammy so he removed them and changed into sleepwear. That's when he saw it. A large hole burnt into the right sleeve of his shirt, the edges all blackened and charred. Then he felt it. He checked his forearm, and there, near his elbow, a patch of sore, scorched skin.