CHAPTER I

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who dreamed of freedom and relief from slavery and toil...

The night was in its peak and the stars dotted the skies like a thousand of condescending eyes, much more seen as it was in the wide expanse of an unending desert. A lone figure wearily crossed the remaining distance left from a small village, casting a long shadow on the dusty ground by the light of the full moon.

In a glance, one could tell that the figure was just a traveller from a far away land and had simply came to the desolate town for a temporary place to stay. However, if they had known what lay inside the foul smelling sack the figure carried, they would have scampered away and not dare even look at the covered face. For within the stitched rag was a rotting decapitated head of a man and the figure was, in conclusion, a bounty hunter who seek to claim the weight of it in gold.

The figure drew up a hand and pulled the scratchy bandana - tied around the head and covered the nose and mouth which helped keep the sand from being swallowed or inhaled - to reveal the soft contours of a young woman's face. Her eyes, a murky teal like the colour of the shallow seas when the sun shone upon it, were almost covered by the greasy frizzed ends of dirty locks that couldn't be contained by the hood that protected her from the harsh heat of the sun and the scrutinizing looks of other people. Her once fair skin was now burned tan by the hot desert and her face was skinny and not at all womanly because of the cruel times she spent eating nothing but stale bread that perhaps even rats wouldn't dare touch. Her hands weren't soft and feminine by any standards, for they were calloused and knew well how to use the bow that slung across her torso and the long sheathed blade that hung on her left hip, slightly concealed by the dirty cloak she wore.

At any other time, she would have thought against revealing her face because of a hundred different reasons concerning the security of her anonymity but she deemed it dark enough and besides, she was quite suffocated by the cloth. She shifted her hold on the sack after taking a deep breath of the cold night air and then pulled the cloth back to her face, making sure it was tight enough to not be pulled but loose enough to let her sip some air.

The town itself was not very impressive; it needn't have to be for it was the center of all the dirty tradings within the mainland. It was located in the suffering desert between the mountainous greenery of Archenland and the abominable country of Calormen, just ways east of Agorbah. The business of the town had started too long ago, when the Calormene nobles had hired mercenaries to kill outlaws, the ones which were dangerous but not significant enough to waste their warriors on, and were instructed to bring their heads as proof in exchange of gold pieces. Since then, different countries had dipped their hand in the business and the town became a popular nest of anonymous individuals who were skilled enough to kill and would do anything for survival. All countries except Narnia of course but that country had just been freed from an endless winter almost five years ago, and the witch whom had enslaved it had cut it off from the rest of the land for a hundred years when she had cursed it with her magic, and it was still shakily rising to its feet by the lead of its newly enthroned monarchs.

Trudging inside the village, she made her way at the opposite end of the small town where the largest cabin stood. It was easy to spot in the darkness because it was the only place still lit and was well bustling with movement and action. The wooden structure was known as the Haven and housed the only bar and restaurant of the town, and it was also where bounties were claimed. Even a ways far from the place, she could already hear the carouse hoots and boisterous laughs of the occupants.

As she entered, she gave a nod at a girl she came to know as Tina who sat on the table nearest to the door next to a large dark-skinned man - Calormene, she guessed - with grubby moustache and beard; the poor maiden looked as comfortable as a squeezed rabbit. Tina was quite new and had only been in the Haven for a fortnight at the most, probably an import from Archenland because she was fair-skinned. She heard rumors that the new healer's apprentice in town was her little sister. She'd seen the petite young girl in passing a few times as well and she doubt it would be long before she too joins her sister's employment. Such a pity, really. She thought the two girls were quite beautiful and young still, although she couldn't really talk herself because she wasn't any older than them.

When the rest of the people of the room caught the sight of her, the place momentarily quieted and she inwardly grinned with something akin to pride beneath her mask. After three years of her time in this service, she had already made a reputation among her dangerous, rumbunctious peers - if they could be called that. The silence was but broken when a lanky, long-haired man cleared his throat and gestured for her to follow him and only when she had turned around to do so did the room escalated to its previous animation.

The man led her inside another room and to a counter by the corner of it, and then left just as quickly as he had come. The foul smell of rotting flesh was very poignant in the air, and the touch of death and blood hung in the ambiance. Despite the poor lighting of the lantern at the center of the ceiling of the small enclosure, she could still clearly see the wanted posters pinned in random places on the wall behind the bespectacled man who sat at the counter.

Having done it a hundred times before, she lifted her luggage and dumped it gently on the wooden surface before revealing the face of the dead man, without a flinch nor a twitch so unlike the first time she had presented her kill. The man pushed his glasses up his nose as he flipped a page of a book, shifting his look from the head to the inked picture on the book several times before nodding. She waited patiently for him to dispose off the sack and quickly grabbed the pouch he placed on the wooden counter. She counted the pieces keenly first before returning a satisfied nod.

Now more light on her feet than she had came in, she planned on refreshing her supplies of bread and armory in her head. She knew she would have to take a look at the bulletin too before heading out so as to choose her next prey for the next few weeks. A life of a bounty hunter had no luxury such as rest because if she did not move fast enough, the others could take away her prize. It was not different from living as a feral animal in the competitive wilderness, for losing in the game meant death and winning was another day that you could eat, breath, and compete again. She had no more qualms to kill, but unlike most of the bounty hunters, she choose to end it as quickly as she could with the silent apology of a predator who was desperate and hungry. She also made sure to target someone who was utterly unforgivable, someone as sinful as herself. May hap once upon a time she had innocence, yet when that was or what it felt like she couldn't remember. She had long since sold her innocence to survive.

Her musings were interrupted when she realized that the room had silenced once again and she arched her neck to see what was the reason (which was clearly not her anymore because she was already sitting on a stool in front of the bar counter).

Her brow furrowed warily when when her eyes sought a boy, nay, a young man who stood at the center of the place. He carried a bearing of regality and the clothes he wore - although plain and unimpressive - was so different and out of place inside the grungy surrounding of the Haven.

Definitely a noble blood, as if the tall hooded figure behind him who must be his escort wasn't indication enough.

He must be from the north because his skin was fair, distinctive from most of the citizens of the south. His posture was tensed but he made no move to attack anyone and after a minute of suspicion, the people lost their interest of the dark-haired young man and went back to whatever they were doing before.

She watched him sweep his gaze among the populace in front of him before it settled on her. She felt a sliver of anxiety trace her spine when he took his first step towards her. And then another, and another. Her blood stopped cold when she found herself face to face with the boy whom had taken a seat just beside her. He mustn't be more than sixteen years old and yet she barely reached the level of his deep brown eyes with her own.

"Hullo, good chap," he greeted with a small boyish smile, "If it wouldn't trouble you to answer a touch few questions, my companion and I would be most appreciative."

She raised an eyebrow at his polite request. Definitely from the north then. People from the south would break a bone before they could be even remotely as courteous as this boy.

And they call them barbarians. Heh.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and the boy took it as a consent. He pulled a paper from his person and laid it in front of her atop the counter.

"Please tell us about this person," he continued.

She took a glance of the paper and suddenly, she couldn't take her eyes off of it. Her muscles tensed and her surrounding spiraled as if being sucked by a black hole.

For inked on the paper stared back her own face. Or at least the face she remembered when she had last looked in front of a mirror. The face had a gentle smile on its lips and the inky eyes were like a reflection of innocence. The poor excuse of a duplicate of her childhood on the paper was enough to break her heart and she felt like breaking down and mourning everything she lost.

Serena of the Long Blade

Terebinthian

Offense: Assassination of the King of Terebinthia

500 crescents

How ironic. The coins she earned and received just a few minutes ago was just a tenth of the price of her own head. If she could, she would have beheaded herself more than five years ago and claimed the gold. Maybe then, she mustn't have suffered as much.

Odd, though. She had faked her death after her first year of running away, jumping off a cliff and leaving her father's signet ring somewhere near there. The posters should have been already scraped off every bulletin and burned. Even her mother's necklace that she had promise not to remove about her neck was bargained for a very unfair price a long time ago. How then, was this boy asking for a person that was known to already cease to exist? How did he know that she still live?

She shrugged her shoulders again, making the impression of nonchalance as much as she could. She took a large swig of her ale after slightly slipping up the bandana and turned to leave but was taken aback when the hooded figure blocked her path.

He was very tall, perhaps a head taller than her and the darkness that shadowed his face intimidated her. She refuse to back down, though.

She narrowed her eyes and threw a punch at his face. With grace that she almost envied, he sidestepped to dodge her attack but it only made her smile because he himself made an opening for her. She spun as she ducked to avoid his hands when he moved to grab her and she collided with someone's table.

Joining his bodyguard, the young man in noble clothes followed in pursuit of her and she pulled the table to propel herself underneath it, spilling the occupants of the table's drink and food everywhere.

This clearly offended said occupant and so stood up with an angered snarl and swung a burly fist at her first assailant, which was dodged by sheer instinct alone. Soon, the whole place erupted into a riot and everyone was attacking everyone.

Tucking herself in the shadows, she weaved her way around until she reached the door. Taking a last glance inside, she caught the face of the hooded figure and held his gaze for a few seconds, a silent challenge and a message of plain you-don't-know-who-you're-messing-with before he was tackled by someone and she was already out the door.

Not more than twenty minutes after the rogue Terebinthian escaped from the riot she had planted in the Haven, the place was an imagery of warfare and carnage. Chairs lay broken in every corner of the once bar and restaurant and tables were no more useful than the windows that had turned into instant doors. Drunken bodies lay unconscious on the floor like a gathered heap of rotten fruits in autumn and all but Narnia's disguised monarchs stood head high in the center of the room.

"That clever little runt!"

"Language, Edmund!" chided Susan with a smack at her little brother's arm.

"I don't know who you're talking about, Tina," answered Edmund smartly, his hand patting the shoulder of his soft cotton tunic where Susan had hit him, a proud expression on his face and his voice an unnatural deep bass, "for I am Lord Divon, a noble of Anvard. King Lune himself gave me the title."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Temporarily, might I remind you. Don't act so couth, Oh my lord."

"Well, I am a king still, am I not?"

"Now is not the time to argue," said Peter to break the budding sister-brother quarrel. "Has Captain Illus returned yet?"

From the heap of unconscious men, a groan resonated and caught the ears of Narnia's golden four. Susan readied her bow, Edmund and Peter quickly unsheathed their swords. Lucy - who was closest to the awakening man - duly delivered a punch to the again unconscious bounty hunter's face.

"Not yet," she answered without batting an eyelash. "I am sure he'll be here shortly."

The four looked around them.

"I guess we should get out of here," said Edmund.

Peter pulled out a bag from his pocket, the contents jingling when he threw it in the air and caught it. He ambled gracefully to the bar counter, taking great care not to step on anybody. The coins rattled loudly when it landed on the wooden surface, catching the attention of the shivering crouched form of the bar owner.

"We apologize for destroying your windows," he paused, chancing a glance at his surroundings, "and for everything else, I suppose."

The bar owner instantly straightened, harrumphed indignantly, and grabbed the bag of coins as if expecting the disguised king to change his mind. "You should! You troublemakers are so uncivilized! This is a business establishment, not a warzone!"

"That's not fair, mister. We didn't start the fight!" argued Lucy.

"No, you didn't! But you sure did finish it! And destroyed my place, too!"

"Of course. We apologize again," said Peter before anything ugly could escalate - given his little sister's incredible sense of righteousness, something ugly sure will and definitely not on the little girl's side of things. "We were just on our way out anyway."

He herded his brother and sisters outside with Lucy a little bit miffed, her brows furrowed and her arms folded.

"And stay out!" shouted the bar owner to their retreating forms.

Lucy struggled from her older brother's hold to go back inside and introduce the man to her dagger but Peter held her firm, so she settled on replying, "We sure will, you rude resentful dotard!"

The three older siblings simultaneously looked at each other, their eyes widening. Then they all burst into laughter, running on their way out like little kids. The cold desert air greeted them outside and they breathed it all in with laughter still resounding among them.

"That was astonishingly un-you, Lu, being violent," Susan said with a smile.

Lucy beamed at her older sister. "Oh, yes! I suppose there is just something about our adventure that fills me with a sense of freedom. No tutors, no instructors, no duties, and especially, no code of dress!" She sighed happily. "Maybe we should get out more often."

"What's wrong with your gowns?" asked Susan, her brows knotting into a displeased frown. She always picked Lucy's dresses.

"The ruffles and frills?" Edmund piped in. Susan gave him an angry look which passed over his head. "Are clothes the only point of interest of girls? We're on a mission about something, are we not?"

"Whatever say you, you unfashionable git," huffed Susan.

Peter pulled his hood down to peer at the sleeping town, to his bickering younger siblings, then back to the building they just came out of. "Well, there goes all my profit," was all he said, head shaking and a little wistful.

"Tonight is not at all productive; the hunter had escaped," sighed Edmund.

"Good thing Captain Illus stayed with us, lest, we'd lost our only lead," added Susan with a nod.

Their conversation was interrupted when the sound of hoofs reached their ears. Slowly, a merchant's wagon came into their view. It was pulled by four horses and driven by a man with bulging muscles, his limp shoulder length hair framing his face and covering his ears. The wagon was small but oddly awkward in height, yet it seemed to float as the horses gracefully loped on the sand.

The driver smiled at the four when the wagon stopped in front of them.

"Good evening, majesties," greeted the man who was in fact not a man.

He was a centaur named Helstorm, one of the captains of the Narnian army and the young royals' teacher in archery. His horse part was hidden by the wagon and fake legs was strapped on his torso to appear as if he was sitting on the driver's seat. The four horses were the siblings' mount: Philip, the talking horse was Edmund's and Debbie was Susan's leading the front while the two non-talking horses at the back were Finn and Fu, Peter's and Lucy's respectively.

The door of the wagon opened and out poured the rest of their company on their little adventure. First was a satyr whose name was Captain Kenell, the two kings' teacher in the art of the sword besides General Oreius; followed by the raven Sallowpad, Cair Paravel's messenger; and Althea the naiad of the Rush, who taught the siblings the art of disguise. Captain Illus the panther, the master of stealth, was not with them for he had gone and followed the fleeing bounty hunter whom had been their main reason for venturing in this grungy town in the first place. The kings and queens greeted the rest of the company and explained what had happened in the Haven while Sallowpad scoured the skies for any signs of the panther returning.

"Quite clever," said Captain Kenell after their tale.

"Indeed, Captain," said Peter. "He knew he was cornered, and was wise to retreat. He used the ensuing chaos of the fighting to distract us."

"Oh look, Sallowpad is back," said Susan.

The small group of Narnians gathered as the raven landed on the wagon's roof. "Southeast, majesties," said the bird, "Captain Illus had found the hunter. He had crossed the river that separated Calormen from the great desert, towards the thick forest of Calormen."

"Very well, lead us to Captain Illus, Sallowpad," ordered Peter. "Let us hunt a bounty hunter."

a/n: This story is from Derkesthai. She gave it to me after she'd finally replied to my old PMs and told me that she won't be writing stories anymore. I promised her that I'll edit and re-post it in my account for her. She gave me the premise and the unfinished, unpublished chapters and I found that it was a very promising story. I quite liked it. I didn't say I'll finish it, though, but I did swear that I will try.

Oh, and about my other works, well, I swear I'm working on them. I just feel drained and dissatisfied, is all. If I'm gonna rate the percentage of how much I've written for their chapters it'd be about this much:

A Throne of Swords - Chapter IV : 60%

A Fate of Fantasy and Ash - Chapter 8 : 40%

Once Upon a Time - Chapter 5 : 50%

Fragile Truths - Chapter 8 : 0% (Lol. I do have a complete plotline draft for this so it's no biggie.)

Thanks for reading!