CHAPTER ONE
"The window to the woods"
The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky and bathed the ruins of Cair Paravel in a dusky red, making the ancient sandy stones uncomfortably hot under Alba's bare feet. The weathered half-wall lay crumbling into the tall grasses, little bits of shells chipping off as she tiptoed across like a tightrope walker above a silent but awed crowd of spectators. Little of the citadel remained, much of it strewn across the hillside as if a giant had come thundering by with a thick tree trunk as a club and smashed it to smithereens. Alba tried to imagine what it must have looked like in its former glory, with flying buttresses and spiraling towers, with soldiers lining the keep and archers readying their arrows. She mimed loosing an arrow at an invisible enemy that hid behind a porous grey boulder.
"D'you think they had lots of parties, Ludil?" she asked her daemon, a little tufted titmouse, who was hopping along after her.
The grey-crested bird fluffed its wings as it nearly lost its balance over the edge—he was still getting used to his settled form—and once he was righted again, he chirped a reply. "I don't doubt they didn't," he said. "Should we be getting back to the camp? It's getting late and I don't like it when it gets dark."
"Oh, hush," Alba rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to the sparkling whitecaps churning far out of the bay. She squinted hard, hoping to see a tailfin or two, from a dolphin or a fish or even a naiad like the stories she'd heard. A few minutes passed and she saw nothing but the cresting waves and heard only the shrieking of gulls and thunderous echoes of the water crashing into the cliff side.
Alba had never seen a real Narnian, even though she often bragged she had to the other children of the caravan. Her parents were important people, so Alba was frequently left to her own devices while they dealt with clan matters and politicking. She liked to tell embellished stories of her adventures to the clan children: a small housecat chasing after Ludil became a ferocious tigress set upon making him a meal for her cubs, a slip and tumble down a hill became a life-threatening rockslide into a violent ravine, and an unassuming encounter with a modest group of travelers became a week-long standoff with rogue bandits, ending only when they all perished from the bitter cold. "How did you survive?" One child would ask in wonder, swiftly prompting another long-winded tale of how she did just that. But today, there were no children around to awe with her stories, so she had to make do with the constant company of her daemon and her imagination.
With a great leap and an audible "oof", she landed on her hands and knees, realizing a beat too late that she'd gone and dirtied her freshly washed shift. She fought back a grimace and hoped that her parents wouldn't take any notice when she returned to camp.
"I wonder what the kings and queens who lived here were like," she said. "Can you imagine having /four/ rulers? I'll bet they never agreed on anything."
"It would be much like our councils," replied Ludil matter-of-factly—he listened to their lessons, unlike Alba, who spent most of their history lectures doodling in the margins of the old texts and daydreaming. What Alba did know of the rulers was basic: they had been the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve and had led a battle against a wicked witch from another world. Then, after some years, they disappeared during a hunt for a white stag that was said to grant wishes. The daemon-less peoples speculated in their texts that the Kings and Queens had perished in an accident or had suffered a crueler fate at the hands of enemies. Alba's grandmother had told her that they had found the blessed pools in the woods between worlds and gone home. Alba didn't know what she meant. Ludil said there was nothing of pools or mysterious woods in the texts.
"If I ever found the white stag," she told Ludil, "I would wish for a place we could stay and live without them Telmarines tellin' us what to do and where to go all the time."
Only when the light faded and the shadows were indistinguishable, did Alba and Ludil make for the caravan. But on their way, Alba stumbled over a stubborn little stone hidden in the grass. She dug her fingers into the dirt and pried it loose, feeling her fingers close around the most peculiarly shaped stone.
"Ludil, look," she called, and her daemon alighted on her wrist as soon as she spoke, his own beady eyes filled with curiosity as he peered at the rock resting on her palm. "What is it?" She asked.
With his sharp grey beak, Ludil prodded the object several times before announcing, "it looks like a chess piece!"
"What's it doing here?"
Ludil tapped the cold marble once more and then flew to perch on Alba's shoulder, his tiny talons digging into her calfskin vest. "There's plenty of possibilities, but it's very dark now and we should go home," he said.
Alba pocketed the chess piece and listened, for once, to her daemon's pestering. She decided that they would return tomorrow and explore the bay.
It was not long before they spotted the warm firelight from the caravan's many tents and wagons. The sounds of soft murmuring melded with the crackling fires and occasional whinny of a carthorse. Alba wove between tents with so many patches they looked like kaleidoscopes and some with hundreds of strings of beads and feathers that sounded almost musical as they clinked gently in the evening breeze. She soon came upon a large canvas tent with its flaps pulled shut and a low rumble of voices drifting out. A young boy Alba recognized as Tam, son of one of a council member, sat in the dirt playing with his daemon, at the moment in the shape of a wily polecat. He had a wooden top and they would both watch it until the polecat would bat at it with its paw and tip it over. Alba watched him for a moment, and then Ludil nipped her earlobe to remind her what she was supposed to be doing.
At her footsteps, the boy looked up at her lethargically and gave her a half-hearted, bleary-eyed smile. "Evenin', Alba. Lud'l," he greeted them. His polecat bobbed its head and then went back to mindlessly gazing at the spinning top.
"Hullo, Tam. Hullo, Barna," replied Alba. "Have they not finished yet?" She asked, nodding to the men and women she knew were in the tent. Someone inside briefly raised their voice, but it was quickly lost amidst a sea of responses.
"They've got n'more a right to the land than we do!" one man cried out. Ludil stiffened on her shoulder, his tiny nails sinking more into her vest.
Tam was unaffected as he let out a mammoth yawn and Alba waited impatiently for him to finish. "S'been a while," he said drowsily. "They're mighty not happy 'bout somefing. I reck'n it's the daemon less—they don't like us 'cause we're different. That's what Ma said." His daemon crawled onto his lap and opened its tiny maw in a yawn, the wooden top long forgotten.
"What do you mean? What's happened?" she asked, but Tam shrugged apathetically and Alba watched as his eyes glazed over once more.
"Do you s'pose there's going to be another fight?" Alba asked Ludil as they headed to her parents' empty tent.
"I hope not," Ludil whispered next to her ear; the warmth from his soft little body was a comfort against the menacing thought.
They finally reached a large tent mended with bits of brown- and green- and cream-coloured cloth. Inside, thick pelts and woven rugs protected against the cold hard ground, and plenty of pillows lay about. Half a dozen worn wicker baskets were nestled into one corner while a rusted portable stove was in the other. Alba rummaged through one of the baskets, suddenly famished from her adventuring, and plucked out some dark red apples for herself and a handful of berries for Ludil. She dropped the purplish berries on a nearby pillow and made a nest of furs in which she was soon laying and filling her rumbling belly.
Soon her stomach was at ease, but her mind far from it. She rested her chin on her knees as thoughts swooped in and out as quickly as a hummingbird: why were the adults so agitated? Was it because of the Telmarines, or the Calormene, or the Archenlanders? Or was it another clan? Alba never really understood politicking and whatnot, but she knew that the other clans weren't too friendly with theirs, and she also knew that their relations with the daemon-less were even more brittle.
Ludil flew to the base of her feet, so he could see her face as he spoke to her. "We oughtn't think the worst," he said, but before he could finish his reassurances, the tent's flap was pulled aside and a man's haggard, bearded face appeared. He had sharp grey eyes like Alba, and wild long locks that were more grey than brown; his daemon, a lean black panther, waited patiently outside, her expression drawn and grim. Unlike his daemon, Chief Isel's face betrayed nothing.
Alba perked up and moved to sit on her legs, staring at her father, wide-eyed and expectant. Ludil flew to his usual spot on the crook of her neck, his downy underside tickling her skin.
"Where did you go explore, today?" He asked.
"The ruins, of course!" Alba exclaimed, and she began to revisit the day's adventures until she recalled why she was waiting in her parents' tent. "But never mind that—" she said, "What's been going on? Why's the council all loud and stuff? Is it the Telmarines? I'll bet it's them, all right, because Tam said—"
Her father interrupted her endless stream of questions with a raised hand. "It is nothing to worry about, my dear. The council is in debate with a proposal I have made regarding the clan's future," he told her, his daemon, now sitting, flicked her ears back for a brief moment, but Alba caught the movement and immediately knew that her father was not telling the whole truth. Then again, when did he ever tell her everything?
And when Alba knew she shouldn't pry, because Chief Isel was not one to pester, she tried anyway, for she was her mother's daughter: nosy, bossy, and very determined.
"What kind of proposal?" She asked as her father moved to their tiny stove and began preparing tea. He sighed, long and wearily, for he was well accustomed to Alba and her nosiness.
"It relates to what your mother's been up to," he replied.
"What's hunting got to do with anything?" Ludil whispered into her ear and Alba repeated her daemon's words so her father could hear; Ludil was quite afraid of the imposing Chief Isel.
"She's not hunting in the usual sense, Alba; your mother, she's looking for something and when—if—she finds it, it could be very good for our people," said Chief Isel. "Some of the council members believe what she is searching for is far too dangerous and she should not continue, for they fear Telmar discovering the existence of this place as well."
Alba's heart thudded with a fluttery, nervous excitement; a dozen questions hovered at the tip of her tongue, on the verge of spilling out all at once. Ludil nipped her ear again to keep her in check of her feelings, for he could feel them too. "So it's a place, then? Why's Ma looking for it if it's so dangerous?"
Chief Isel regarded her with a scrutinizing eye, as if he was making up his mind about something; he glanced over his shoulder at his daemon and they shared a meaningful look before he spoke. His daemon, Hana, gave an almost imperceptible shake of her melanin head—which Alba caught because she was very keen-eyed.
"This place is a sort of crossroads," he began, tentatively and with much care about his wording. "And if your ma should find it, we could find us a place to settle permanently, should we choose it," he said. Alba waited for him to say more, and when he remained silent, busying himself with the kettle and the tea, she thought hard on what next to ask.
"Is—" she opened her mouth, but her father's daemon let out a warning growl, low yet unsettling and enough to silence her.
"Enough questions for now," he said. Alba's eyes lingered warily on the daemon, as did Ludil's, until her father gently commanded her to look at him. "This is not for other ears, Alba. I tell you little for your own safety. This is a complicated and delicate matter between the council, your ma, and I."
"And all of Telmar and Narnia, apparently," Alba muttered to Ludil. Chief Isel faked a moment of deafness, for he continued his speech, dropping a handful of dried green leaves into a chipped pair of porcelain mugs and filled each with boiling water. He gave one to Alba and kept the other.
Chief Isel then asked her again about the ruins and Alba was obligated to tell him about them. They talked until Alba's mug was completely drained and her eyelids felt heavy; Ludil swayed on her shoulder, lightly snoozing. Only when Alba herself started to doze did her father send her off to bed in her own tent, guided by his panther daemon Hana. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, so Hana pressed herself against Alba's side and used her cat vision to lead the way through the dimness. Alba's tent was just behind her father's, but Hana had to point out the fraying ropes that held the tents upright to keep Alba from tripping over them.
They reached her tent and Hana swiftly turned around and headed back after seeing Alba safely settled. Daemons couldn't travel very far from their humans, because it hurt too much to be away from each other. Alba's grandmother always said a daemon was your soul. The Telmarines and the Archenlanders and the Calormene didn't have daemons; grandma Lomidze explained that their souls were inside them—if they had any at all, that's where they would be. Alba liked to think that their daemons were just invisible, for being without one was just as strange to her as daemons were to the daemon-less. Whenever they passed a town of daemon-less folk, she and Ludil would play a game where they imagined what their daemons would look like. The settled shape of a daemon could give little clues to person's character, like a fox daemon might mean their human was clever or sly or deceiving, and a human with a dog daemon might be loyal or trustworthy or genuine. Alba would enjoy the petty game until an adult in the caravan would chastise her and lecture her about rudeness and judging people.
As she arranged a nest of blankets and pillows, Alba let her mind drift back to the conversation she had with her father and she imagined her mother, swathed in black robes and bird feathers in her hair, sailing through the ancient narnian forests on horseback, her osprey daemon flying close behind. Would they find what they were looking for before the Telmarines did? What were they expecting to find? Alba could scarcely fathom a place where they would fit in, let alone a place to stay forever. It just wasn't the Pulaimen way, which is who they were. They were descendants of the people of Pul, with their daemons and wonderful stories and wandering ways.
Her last thoughts before falling asleep were of the kings and queens of the once great Cair Paravel. A breathy laugh escaped her as she imagined them sitting, uncomfortably, in their rich silks and jewels, atop the crumbling ruins of the ancient city. And then the flowing cloaks and sparkling gems turned to dreams of luxurious royal balls and dinners, all glazed with a hazy awareness that it wasn't real.
XxxxXXxxxX
Over the next several weeks, the weather turned sharply, the nights becoming colder and the winds taking on a bitter chill that seeped deep into Alba's bones and weakening her will to venture out from the toasty warmth of the tents and blasting fires. Each morning, they woke to frosted grounds and air so cold Alba could see her breath. She had taken to wearing her furs: an elk skin parka, its hood rimmed with fox fur, and a pair of elk skin boots, the pelt turned inside out to keep her feet cozy and warm. Her mittens were lined with soft rabbit fur, and she had on a worn pair of trousers that matched her parka and boots. Ludil preferred to stave away the harsh winds either in her pockets or by the nook of her neck, shielded by the thick ring of reddish-brown fox fur.
The morning that marked the thirtieth day of their stay by the sea was the coldest one yet. Alba dressed quickly and soon emerged from her tent to find a fire by which she could warm herself. She passed Tam who was shivering under a broad oak, his daemon peeking out from the front of his coat in the shape of a tawny-coloured cat, and facing a feebly burning fire. He was with a girl around his age with curly black hair and dirt on her cheeks. Alba couldn't remember her name; their caravan was a very large one and Alba didn't know everyone. She waved to them, though they only stared meekly in return.
A crispy strip of meat found its way into her hands and she found a fire for a while, but she was restless and starved for entertainment; by noon, she had been expelled from the vicinities of the caravan until suppertime. Alba felt like the adults singled her out the most from the other children because of her parents.
And so, disgruntled and unfairly chastised, Alba slogged through the tall, dewy grasses by the ruins that she had already explored a dozen times over. They went down to the beach, which was at the base of a steep, winding, and overgrown path, and Alba skipped stones until her furs became stifling and she had to stop to take them off.
She left her parka and mittens on a rock high up on the beach and out of the tide's reach. Left in a rough cotton blouse and her elk skin trousers, Alba trudged unsteadily across the sand. For a while, she pretended she was an adventurer searching for the mysterious place her mother was looking for. Ludil fluttered above, as high as the bond would allow, and acted as a lookout. It was when they were climbing over a smattering of boulders that Alba caught sight of the most peculiar thing hovering a dozen paces ahead, atop a rock shaped like a prickly hedgehog.
It was like a window without a frame and without a wall.
From one angle, crouched low and perpendicular to the coast, she could see through the window. She had almost missed it, because from any other side, there was nothing there. But Alba had sharp eyes and a bright mind, and she snagged a glimpse of a thicket of trees when there were none nearby. It took her a moment to make sense of this, for it wasn't common at all to come across mysterious windows in the air.
"Ludil!" she exclaimed. "Did you see that?"
Ludil flew to her shoulder, although he was bristling with marked curiosity just as strong as hers, her daemon was the voice of timid apprehension. "Maybe we should get Chief Isel first," he said, tightening his little talons, which Alba could feel easily through the thinness of her shirt. "It could be dangerous."
"Live a little, Ludil," chided Alba to her daemon as she crawled toward the window. She stayed low to the rocks to keep it in sight, and made quick progress. Much to Ludil's chagrin, they were soon upon the window.
Alba was completely entranced; the sunlight passed through the window as if it weren't there at all, and from any other side, she couldn't see it even though she knew it was there. When she stopped her circling, Ludil still perched on her shoulder in a feathery ball of nerves, Alba peered head on at the window. Up close, the trees were taller and thicker than the ones they had camped around, the grass was a rich dark green, and the tree canopy was so heavy that the sun's rays barely filtered through. There was no movement, other than the slight sway of branches and falling leaves.
"Do you think we can go through it?" Her question was met with an anxious chirp from her titmouse daemon.
For days now, Alba had been starved for adventure. Her father said they were waiting for good weather before they set out for another place, but Alba knew better; they were waiting for her mother to return from her expedition.
With only a moment's hesitation, Alba thrust her hand through the window, and Ludil let out an alarmed squeak.
They both froze for several beats, and then Alba wriggled her fingers and clenched and unclenched her hands into a fist. She let out a gasp of wonder. "It's like a door, Ludil!" She said. "I wonder if I could fit?"
She grasped the edges while Ludil tittered nervously about her, his feathers sticking up every which way, and heaved herself forward, tumbling headfirst through the window and landing in an unceremonious heap on the forest floor. The air was warm and temperate, like she'd landed in another world altogether. She said so to Ludil, who in turn promptly suggested they go back.
"Why would we want to do that?" She mused, for she knew that Ludil was just as curious as she.
Between the thicket of trees, with their trunks so broad and roots like a giant's gnarled fingers, there was a glimmering. It was a faint, fleeting shimmer that blinked in and out of sight.
"Yes, I see it, too," said Ludil, who knew her thoughts and feelings as wholly as she felt his. Alba could sense, however, that there was an excitement and ardent curiosity blossoming in his tiny, white-feathered breast.
Old leaves and twigs crunched under her hardy boots as they moved toward the shimmering. A breeze tickled her skin and ruffled her hair. She glanced back at the window, just to be sure it was still there, and it was. At the right angle, she could see it like some sort of mirage. Alba wondered if anyone had found it like she had, because the window was difficult to notice. It was small and square and non-existent on all sides but one. Ludil nipped her earlobe, urging her onward.
They quickly came to a clearing full of natural-looking pools, the waters catching bits of sunlight that made it through the canopy and reflecting them like sparkling gems. The pools were spaced evenly and uniform in size, each several feet wide. There had to be more than half a dozen or so.
Alba walked to the closest pool and had to do a double take. Deep below the calm rippling waters was a city.
Gaping, Alba cried out, "It's magic, Ludil! It must be!"
"But is it good magic or bad?" Asked Ludil, fluttering nervously around her head.
Still peering at the strange city, with its tall stone buildings and puffs of smoke, Alba replied pensively. "Magic is magic, Lu. Ma says it's whether a folk's intentions are righteous or not." She crouched down low over the city in the water, her hands resting a hair's width away from the water's edge. She felt like a giant peering down from the heavens.
Ludil wasn't satisfied. "Well, it doesn't look very good," he retorted.
Alba did not grant him a response, for her daemon was right, even if she did not want to admit it out loud. Heavy fumes that swirled and twirled clouded the city in the pool, and the buildings were not at all like the ones in Archenland or Calormene or even Narnia; they were colorful, boxy-like edifices set so closely together, with dozens of clear glass windows and bright awnings. And then on the streets were the most marvelous contraptions: horseless carriages made of painted metals and shiny chrome, moving so fast they could've been boats sailing along a smooth-running river. And there were people, too, but they looked like tiny ants from where Alba was, and she could barely make them out.
She marveled for a long time at the brilliance of it all, before Ludil reminded her that there were other pools and perhaps other cities like the one with the horseless carriages. And so she scrambled to her feet, carefully, for she couldn't imagine what would happen should she fall into one of the pools. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was like the window. But, she was looking down on the city, and if the pools were like the window, then she would fall and fall, down into the smoke-filled city and not live another day. Alba shuddered at the unsavory thought.
The next pool showed a city not unlike Anvard, the capital of Archenland, but there was no hustle or bustle of people going about their business, no hawkers or vendors or carriages or horseless contraptions. There were no people, no horses or rats or cats in sight. There was no one at all.
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. The citadel lookalike was far too quiet and it didn't sit well with her. She quickly moved to another pool.
This one was a desolate wasteland, so she went to the one beside it. She saw a city much like the first, yet it looked different in a way she couldn't describe, for she had never seen anything like them before and it was so very new and delightful in a fearsomely exhilarating way.
Alba soon exclaimed, after peering eagerly in every pool, though it seemed that the more pools she looked in, the more appeared, "Oh, Ludil! Which one should we choose?" There were dozens of pools now; Alba could've sworn she had only seen a mere half-dozen when she first came upon the clearing. It must be magic, she concluded resolutely and with much confidence, even though she knew little of real, honest magic.
"Choose? How about none at all!" said her feathered daemon. "We ought to seek your father. This place is filled with dangerous magic!"
"You only say it's dangerous because you don't know it," Alba countered with a curl of her lip.
"Rightly so!"
But Alba had already made up her mind. She had wished for an adventure such as this for as long as she could remember, and now an adventure was right in front of her in the shape of a pool with a mysterious city.
She secured her daemon in her satchel, his small beak peeking out from the gap between the fold, and tightened the strap. She traced her steps back to the first pool and perched at the edge.
"Hold your breath, Lu," she said. "We're going on an adventure."
And she leapt.
A/N This story takes elements from Phillip Pullman's trilogy, His Dark Materials, of which the first is most commonly known as "The Golden Compass." I found the idea of our souls walking beside us quite intriguing and thought it would be fun to incorporate it into the world of Narnia, which much of reflects Christian mythology. The Golden Compass book, similarly and interestingly, has major religious influences.
In regards to the pools, or "wood between worlds," I have taken some creative liberty there. The books speak of special rings used to get from one place to another, made from some sort of magical dust. I might provide a possible explanation for Alba's ability to use the pools, as Pullman's trilogy involves what the protagonist calls "Dust." The people with daemons have lots of mysterious "Dust" surrounding them in the trilogy.
This will be a sort of coming-of-age tale, with adventure and perhaps a sprinkle of young romance (the main characters are rather young). The Pevensies will be a tad older than in the books (more in line with the movies). This will take place before Prince Caspian and will primarily take place in the movies' universe (I'm in the process of reading the books, but it's going slow). I use the Narnia wikia as a major reference.
Also, please note that the next few chapters will be very slow to come due to school, work, and other things that take up time.
Lastly, my knowledge of London is limited, as I have yet to visit, so forgive any errors and do not hesitate to correct me. I appreciate any and all feedback. Cheers!