Title: The Taste of Murder

Author: Rolletti

This story takes place during the Golden Age.

Sorry for the mistakes, something ate all the beta's.

Disclaimer: Yep, I do not own any part of C.S. Lewis' works, and I'm still regrettably poor.

The Taste of Murder: Chapter One

"Get in there you scum,"said the kidnapper as he shoved his bound prisoners through the door. The hidden structure was so overgrown with vines, you couldn't see it until you were near enough to touch it.

"You need some manners on how to treat a lady," said the only male as he jumped high with a twist, and kicked the man in the chest for shoving his sisters.

"Galenor! I see you've finally arrived with the spoils. Yes, and feisty ones too, aye?" laughed the ample boisterous man as he slapped Galenor on the back after helping him to his feet.

"They've been trouble since we've seized them. That one there, she cost me three men. The little brat had countless knives secretly on her person. Watch her closely, she's a devil of a cuss."

"The eldest of the females is quite a beauty. We'll get three times as much for her."

"Ahh, a sight for starving eyes, that one. She should bring a handsome price," said Galenor as he stroked her cheek with longing. Before the man could utter another word, he screamed in agony as the vision of beauty turned her head with lightening speed, clamping her jaw around his finger, drawing blood. Her male companion sent him sprawling as he jumped and kicked him hard in the back.

"Will somebody bind his feet!" Galenor screamed from the ground.

"Ha, my friend, they are feisty indeed," said the older man as he helped his business partner off the floor again. His laughter faltered as he took a closer look at the children. A crease drew his brows together as he tried to recall something.

"Galenor? Where exactly did these children come from?"

"I went far to look for fresh spoils this time," he said as he wiped the blood off his nose. "It didn't matter before where I got them. Why do you ask? "

The icy fingers of recognition intertwined in Fernan memory as his arrogance took flight.

"Hey, shouted Galenor as he snatched his arm away from Fernan. "Dash it all, you're digging into my arm. Is it not enough I've suffered at the hands AND," he turned to the fifteen year old boy,"feet of these swamp rats?"

"Galenor."

"What's the matter with you? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Galenor, think. Think, hard," said Fernan, blinking wildly as he broke out into a sweat. "From where did you find these children?"

"I found these three in the woods with their pets, further north in the wild country. There were quite a few of those rotten mongrels, very protective.

"YOU IDIOT!" shouted Fernan as he struck Galenor with the back of his hand.

"What did I do? You said we needed fresh slaves to sell, so I got fresh slaves! If you ask me, these three look rather unique. You yourself said they'd fetch a high price."

Fernan ignored him as he walked closer to the children, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Please, tell me your name."

"My name, you pitiful excuse of a man, is Edmund."

"Edmund," said Fernan simultaneously.

"How did you know his name?" questioned Galenor.

"BECAUSE HE FITS THE DESCRIPTION YOU EMBICILE!"

"Description, what description?" asked Galenor, his breathing increasing in fear as he looked from Edmund to Fernan.

"This is King Edmund, and his sisters the Queens of Narnia. When have you ever seen skin that fair? Huh? Only the Narnian royals you…we're dead. We are all dead because of you! Don't stand there gaping like a lost Yerkul. Haven't you heard the stories? There is another, their brother the High King of Narnia. Everyone from unknown lands and back knows how he feels about these three." Clenching his teeth, Fernan stepped closer as he lowered his voice, gaining Galenor's full attention. "He's murderous. He's known for hunting down and killing those responsible for his missing brother. Not only do we have his brother, but his sisters too," he said as he walked toward Lucy highly distressed. "Look at her. That's his baby, his baby sister. Don't you know how boys feel about their baby sisters?"

"I don't give a carcass about mine," Galenor grumbled.

"Well, the High King of Narnia does, genius!" Fernan screamed hysterically.

"No, they can't be," said Galenor as he shook his head slowly, cowering towards the thirteen year old Lucy.

"Is it true? You, you belong to," he swallowed hard, "him?"

"You're a dead man walking," she said, piercing the soul of the man who killed her subjects.

Fernan ran into a room, returning with an empty bag.

"Wait, what are you doing?" asked Galenor frantically as he watched Fernan and his men pack their belongings in haste.

"What does it look like we're doing? We're getting out of here. Listen, I want no part of this madness. The further the miles are between me and these royals the better, I don't want to wake in the middle of having my throat slit." Covered in a good dose of fear, Fernan looked around confirming he had what little there was. "Did you know that is his signature mark when rescuing, or avenging his loved ones? He doesn't have mercy and run his victims through. No, he goes mad, and slices into their flesh, leaving them to die slowly in agony as their life's blood soaks the earth beneath them. Some say he burn the bodies before they draw their last breath. Go ahead, ask him, ask his brother if the rumors are true, go ahead."

"Well, what am I to do with them?"

"They're your problem, not mine," said Fernan, almost too afraid to look at the Narnians. He stopped at the door before exiting and said to his friend with sympathy, "You took all that is precious from the High King of Narnia. He's coming."

"But Fernan..."

"Good bye my friend."

tbc