A little pre-explanation: The characters in the story refer to this castle as the Last Castle, which, to them, means the last castle before the border. I named this story The Last Castle, not because of that, but because theoretically this will be the last castle ever built in Archenland. During this point in Narnia's history, we're nearing the end times, so it would be safe to say that no other castle will be built again, though of course our characters have no way of knowing that. Alrighty, have I confused everyone enough? On with the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, Archenland, and all that jazz.
Chapter 1.
It was a perfect Narnian morning. The sun had just risen above the treetops, illuminating the dewy drops on the grass, making them shine as though a thousand diamonds littered the floors of southern Narnia. It was the beginning of a chilly autumn day, the leaves just beginning to change their colors. There was no fall like a Narnian fall, everyone decided; presently, the forest would be a blaze of colors, from reds to oranges, from yellows to browns, and in no particular order, a wonderful and exciting masterpiece that Narnians liked to believe was painted especially for them each year. This beauty was talked about all over the world, and many made the pilgrimage every year just to see this magical moment.
The peacefulness was abruptly disturbed by a hurried rider as he thundered across the land on his swift steed. This rider had no time to stop and marvel at nature's masterpiece, nor did he have time to spare a thought to his destruction of the dewy diamonds as he tore across the fields. Like all important men, he had neither the luck nor the luxury of stopping to take in the beauty of the country of his birth.
The rider allowed his horse no rest until they came to a wide, heavily forested area. Now he stopped, peering this way and that, doing his best to remember his directions. He dismounted, gave the young mare a few pats on the neck by way of apology, and together man and beast walked through the glen. The mountains rose directly in front on him, and from them a cold breeze blew down. The rider shivered, and wondered how on earth these dwarves managed to live like this.
He finally remembered his way, and presently his way brought him to a rock face, about twenty feet high, that was inlaid into the mountain. He wasn't exactly sure what to do next, until he noticed the peculiarly shaped rock that had been described to him. He stamped on it hard three times, then waited with moderate patience as it was moved away and the face of a rather cheerful looking dwarf whose face did its best to feign fierceness, poked out.
"You're late, Sir Galian,"he jeered.
"Late? It's not even eight o'clock."
"Griffle is an important leader. He doesn't have time to waste on proposals he knows he will turn down,"the other said, ushering Galian inside. Too late, Galian hit his head on the rooftop, and after cursing irritably for a few seconds, he returned his attention to the gatekeeper, "If he was always going to turn it down, why would he agree to meet with me?"
"He wants you to know what he thinks of the whole issue. About building a castle that's going to be a safe haven for every Calormene brat and riffraff that would like to call Narnia theirs. About how doing so could very easily attract spies. About how you've employed a Calormene traitor to help you build this castle..."
"Just a minute..."
The gatekeeper held up his hand to pause Galian's tirade, "I'd save my speech, if I were you. It's Griffle you need to convince, not me. Good luck to you, Galian."
"Thank you, Tuck,"and, because he knew his etiquette concerning dwarves, he handed this one a small, leather pouch.
The delighted dwarf took a whiff of the sweet odor the pouch produced, "By the Lion, Galian, you grow the best tobacco in southern Narnia. What's your secret?"
"Horse manure,"Galian said with a grin, "Speaking of which, would you see to it that mine is taken care of?" Before the dwarf could spout off a nasty reply, Galian hurried off with the guards that had come to escort him to Griffle's quarters.
Griffle was the leader of a very large group of dwarves, considered more of a guild than a political group by the Narnian government, though lately the Guild had developed a considerable amount of leverage and would by no means tolerate a political figure they didn't like. Griffle himself was the shrewdest leader, man or otherwise, that anyone would ever meet. The members of his clan held a deep respect for him, while everyone outside of their guild thought him to be intolerably stubborn and perhaps a little too nationalistic for his own good. But, despite his faults, he was a very good ally to have, and it was with high hopes that Galian walked the long walk to his quarters now.
This pathway, he knew, led deep into the mountain. It was dark here, the way lighted by only a few lamps, and the walls and floor were rougher, but Galian also knew that the further he walked into the mountains, the more majestic these halls would become. This first level was devoted to mining mostly; it was rumored that the dwarves had struck gold, and though not everyone quite believed this claim, no one was foolish enough to challenge the idea, and those that might have believed this claim were too frightened to invade the caves. Galian was led up a flight of steps, to the second level, which was occupied mostly by smithies. Up another flight of stairs, and the halls here were smoother and better illuminated, and more impressively decorated. The ceiling was high enough for Galian to walk along without bumping his head, a architectural plan Galian himself was quite grateful for. At the far end of the hall was an iron door inlaid with copper. Galian was shown into this and told to sit. The chair was entirely too small, but Galian accepted it. He was given food and drink and told his host would join him presently.
As he waited, he glanced about the room. It was very tastefully decorated, with rich tapestries, a warm fireplace, and the portrait of Griffle himself at the far end of the room. In the portrait, the dwarf was sitting with his back to the green Narnia, a lump of gold in one hand and a hammer in the other. The face of the dwarf himself was hardened and stern, the mouth forever fixated in a solemn frown partially hidden by a long, light brown beard.
"Rather a good likeness, don't you think?"
Galian jerked his head around but managed not to jump. Griffle had entered the room as silently as a panther, an amazing feat considering the dwarf's stocky frame. He wasn't nearly as impressive in person as the portrait liked to convey, but he obviously thought he was, and Galian knew better than to contradict.
"You are Sir Galian, I presume?"
"Yes sir, I am. I am grateful that you should agree to meet with me,"Galian began, standing and bowing to the dwarf. The other made no friendly signs of greeting, only pulled another chair to the table and bade Galian to sit as well.
"I suppose you know why I'm here,"Galian started nervously, "but all the same I'd better ask. You've no doubt heard the rumors of plans to build a castle on the southern border of Archenland?"when the dwarf made no comment, Galian, slightly rattled, continued, "if all goes well for us, that rumor could become a reality. In order for this castle to be satisfactorily constructed, we need the best masons and stone wrights. Naturally, we thought of you and the amazing work you've done with these mountains. It would be an honor and a privilege if you would assist in the construction of this castle."
He stopped to catch his breath, for he had been saying the last bit very quickly. The dwarf said nothing for a minute or two, taking his time, for he knew he was the master of this particular meeting. He stroked his beard for a time, turned to Galian, and said flatly, "No."
"No?"
"Tell me something, young man. Do you or do you not intend for this castle of yours to be a safe haven for Calormenes who wish to run away from their own land?"
"That is not its main objective but it certainly is a possibility."
"So you wish to set up a point where the most destitute of characters may meet and infect our own lands with their questionable practices?"
"Mind you, we're by no means inviting criminals and troublemakers to Archenland. There is another, more important purpose we hope this castle will serve. We would like to decrease crime on the lower border. Do you not see that if the castle is not constructed, innocent Narnians and Archenlanders will continue to be the prey of slavers and kidnapers? I admit, we do hope that the castle will give those in Calormen who suffer under the leadership of those cold, cruel Tarkaans a place to hide and start a new and beneficial life for themselves, and perhaps it will be a place our own citizens who are captives in Calormen will run to. But the main priority of this castle and its guards will be to put a stop to the suffering and fear southern Archenlanders have lived in for so long."
For the first time in that meeting, the dwarf grinned a sly grin, "You certainly are passionate about this, aren't you, my young knight?"
"I lived eleven years of hell as a Calormene slave. You could say it's more my duty to make sure no other Northerner has to suffer like I did."
"That's a very noble mission."
"May I be frank?"Galian asked. When Griffle relented, he added, "The problems you have just outlined have not escaped the attention of those who planned this castle. We are well aware of the dangers. However, we believe the strengths of having a castle on the border will outweigh any problems we might have. Everyone does their part to make sure Archenland and Narnia are safe; this is the role we play."
Griffle stroked his beard harder, so hard that Galian was amazed it hadn't been pulled out. The dwarf's face had changed from fierce resentment to deep pondering. Galian was a wise enough warrior to know when to leave his opponent be, and he explained that he had not expected an answer right away, and that maybe it would be best for Griffle to think on the proposal for a while.
"No, no, sit down,"the other said gruffly when Galian moved to stand, "I still don't quite agree with the functions this castle will serve. However, the thought of so many Narnians and Archenlanders suffering under the brunt of those evil tyrants weighs heavily on my mind. If I allow some of my masons to assist you, will you promise to treat them with respect and not like common workers?"
"Absolutely,"Galian said enthusiastically.
"I'm giving them to you as foreman, understand,"Griffle said forcefully, "they're going to be in charge of the common workers."
"Of course. Their assistance will be much appreciated."
"Then it's settled. You will have access to thirty of my masons."
Galian was overjoyed, and did nothing to hide it, "This is absolutely wonderful! It is definitely a relief off of my mind to know we have the help and knowledge to build this castle. Shall we talk of payment another time?"
"Payment! Ha! Do you really believe we have not all the gold we could ever wish for? Why, Archenland should be asking for money from me."
This was the snag that could have brought down the entire meeting, and nervousness crept into Galian once again, "Then what do you desire? It would not be fair for them to work with no pay."
There was a conniving gleam in Griffle's eyes that Galian was sure meant no good, "I'll tell you what I want, young soldier,"Griffle said, "We have gold and weapons and the most splendid halls in all of Narnia. We eat fish from the underground lake in these mountains. But I must say, we grow tired of fish. So, we send someone down to the markets to bring fruits and vegetables and occasionally venison. But it's very expensive and tedious. What I want, Master Galian, is the food from your farm. So long as my dwarves are working for you, you will send us every bushel of every vegetable and fruit that you grow, as well as the tobacco, saving, of course, some for yourself. For it is no lie that we have all become great lovers of your crops, Galian."
Galian frowned, "Do you mean to beggar me?"
"If the Queen of Archenland is such a great friend of yours, I'm sure she won't allow you to starve. And one more thing; that Calormene Captain, I do not want any of my dwarves placed under his command."
"Captain Pericles has always been a friend of Narnia, and he has a deep respect for dwarves."
"Nevertheless, he is a Calormene and a traitor. We want nothing to do with him."
Galian sighed. He had seen this coming, "Captain Pericles will be in command of several guards who will police the area as well as protect the construction sight and the workers at all costs. He will have nothing to do with the building process."
"Whatever he's doing, I do not, on any occasion, want to hear that he is bullying those dwarves in any way."
"You have my word,"Galian said, "I'll see to it personally that everyone is treated fairly."
"If that is the case, my friend, I suppose we only need to decide which dwarves will go."
He invited Galian to stay for the supper, for the meeting had lasted most of the day, but Galian gracoiusly delicned, claiming he had to be back in Archenland soon, which was no lie, for at that very moment Aoife was meeting again with Queen Eleytheria to discuss the possibility of the construction of the castle. It was probably a bold move, gathering supplies and workers before they even knew if they had permission to build. But for some reason, Aoife felt that this time, the Queen would relent. The proposal had been turned down four times in the past two years. Queen Eleytheria, of course, never made an important decision like this without consulting her advisors, and each time they had voted, the proposal was defeated, but always by a small margin.
Galian waited patiently while Griffle organized the thirty dwarves that would go to Archenland to build the castle. Galian promised to send word well in advance of the date they would break ground, and left in the late hours of the afternoon. He was a good deal more cheerful this time, stopping to take in the beauty of his country, his thoughts budding with excitement as the dream of the castle became more real.
He arrived at the Dancing Lawn, but opted to go around instead of taking the path that led to his farm. He really had no time to stop, which saddened him, for his farm had always felt like a paradise where the world would leave him be for the time being and he could concentrate on his crops or his small ranch. He was a bit disconcerted to know that for the next few years, everything he would raise on that farm would go to Griffle. He knew Griffle had been testing him; had Galian not been so passionate, he probably would not have agreed to help at all. Galian would suffer a severe loss of income, not that money mattered so much to him, but he did have workers to pay, workers who needed the money very, very much.
Dancer suddenly halted, stamping her foot nervously. She had sensed something her master had not been able to. Presently, he noticed it too. They were being followed.
He thought first of Griffle; had he hired someone to follow Galian? This man, or woman, or whatever, was not by any means a good woodsman. He disturbed leaves and sticks too often, and had ducked out of the way too late. Griffle's dwarves were mountain dwarves, and by no means woodsmen like some of their kin, but still, Galian rather thought that if it had been one of the mountain dwarves, it would have attacked already, as they were known for their brashness. No, this was someone else, a man, a very leery man.
Galian cautiously continued on his way, but abruptly stopped. This time he was unable to catch anyone. There was a tense five minutes as Galian waited for something, anything to happen.
"Good afternoon, neighbor."
Galian gave a noticeable jump in the saddle, startling Dancer. He looked down to see a very chipper squirrel giving him a curious look.
"Terribly sorry,"it said, quickly, "I didn't mean to disturb you. You don't look so well, sir, if I may say..."
An arrow shot out of the thicket, narrowly missing the squirrel. The frightened animal shot away up a tree before Galian could blink. He rolled off of his horse, drawing his sword at the same time, though he wondered how on earth he could defeat this man if he proved to be a good shot. Galian gave Dancer a good smack, causing her to bolt in the other direction at breakneck speed. He ducked behind a tree as quickly as he could, though he felt the wind off an arrow that narrowly missed his foot. Several more were fired off, hitting the tree Galian had ducked behind. They suddenly stopped, and Galian heard the man running away. Wishing now he hadn't sent Dancer off, he bolted after his attacker. The other man was not very fast, but fast enough to elude Galian. Galian was a good five seconds behind him when he saw the man trip. Two dozen squirrels had come from seemingly out of nowhere, and were now biting and clawing with all their might.
As Galian neared, he called them off, ordering one to stand with teeth bared at the assailant's neck, near the artery. The rest stood by, alert and tense.
"Alright,"Galian started, still blowing hard, "You're going to answer my questions, or else this fellow here ends your life nice and quickly, which is more than you deserve. Who are you?"
The man glared at Galian. He was short, with a short, black beard and long black hair. Had it not been for the sheer blueness of his eyes, Galian would have thought him to be a Calormene. His voice, when he spoke, was that of a man who had seen visions, learned things that made him think he was much wiser than any other man alive.
"My name,"he said, his voice wrought with hate, "is not important. The only thing that matters is that you all will die."
Galian wasn't impressed, some of the squirrels, however, shifted nervously. The other continued, "If you kill me, I will be avenged. If you let me live, I will escape your grasp and tell the others what I know about you. You will not live a fortnight later."
"I believe I asked you a question,"Galian said sternly, as if he hadn't heard the man's speech, "Who are you, and why are you trying to kill us?"
"Not 'us,' Sir Galian. Oh yes, I know who you are. And I know what you are planning to do."
"So do a great many other Narnians and Archenlanders,"Galian snapped, "That, there, on your chest...what does that mean?" on the man's green tunic was a red serpent, with teeth bared and evil eyes. The man rolled his own and laughed, "This is the symbol of my clan. My brothers wear the same tunic. We are a group organized for one purpose; to destroy Narnia."
"That, my friend, is something I can't let you do. I'm taking you to Cair Paravel. You'll find the guards there are more pleasant to chat with than I am."
He turned to one of the squirrels, and was about to ask it if there was anything to bind the man with for the time being. Just as he turned, however, a large foot shot out and slammed into Galian's already tender knee. The squirrel that had been poised at his neck bit into it. A painful scream erupted from the man, and he grabbed the squirrel and flung it away. He jumped to his feet and ran fair for his life, with the other squirrels hot on his trail. Galian stood and limped as quickly as he could, but he was fast losing his prey. The escapee had drawn his knife, and was slashing at squirrels with swift, deadly motions. Still, those squirrels were as wise as they were brave. They stayed to the man's left and right, just far enough out of the range of the knife, and directed him where they wanted him to go, which turned out to be a tall cliff overlooking a thundering waterfall that fell into a deep pool. He turned, to see man and beast closing in on him. Suddenly, he erupted with evil laughter, saying, "Do you think you are any match for me? I have no fear of you...or death." And with that, he jumped over the edge.
Galian limped to the edge. For a moment, nothing could be seen, then, the man appeared in the deep lake. He was yelling something. Soon, several others dressed in similar garb began firing arrows at Galian and the squirrels with unnerving accuracy. They retreated, and when Galian felt they were safe, he turned to one squirrel, the one who had wished him Good Afternoon, who was obviously the leader.
"I owe you my life, my friend,"he said genuinely.
"Think nothing of it, Sir Galian. I've heard rumors of evil men in these parts. I only wished I had not had to encounter them."
"I feel the same. Are the others alright?"
The squirrel hung his head, "I have lost several friends today."
"Oh, my dear friend, I am so sorry,"Galian said, heartbroken, "I would not have wished it for the world. Let it be said they died quite honorably."
"An honorable death is still a death, good sir,"the squirrel said melancholily, "I will miss them."
Galian felt awkward, not knowing how to console the small beast any further. Presently, it spoke, "Who was that man? What clan was he referring to?"
In the back of his mind, Galian had an inkling as to what the man might have been referring to. He prayed with all his might that he was wrong.
"I do not know for sure. But it means no good for Narnians, I can tell you that. Would you, after you have mourned and buried your friends, of course, go as speedily as you may to King Rilian? He will need to know of this."
"I will, sir. And you? Where shall you go?"
"First I'll find my blasted horse. Then I'll go to Anvard."