The Chronicles of Narnia - Talonstreak Avenged
Chapter 2 - Council at War
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The harsh rain beat against the beautifully decorated stained-glass, thick windows of the Cair. The fortress town was silent surrounding the main Keep, as most opted to stay indoors, the adults comforting the children, who were screaming at the occasional dramatic clasp of thunder.
On days like this, a Narnian's work came shuddering to a halt. Narnia and her people were too fair a race to make the average person work on a depressing day like this.
Other than the sentries stationed around the town, the streets were empty, which only helped contribute to the dull atmosphere.
In the rich halls of the castle, the noise was also quiet and subdued. Other than the odd coming of age Faun scurrying around the cold, echoing labyrinth of the Cair's interior, there was a sense of loneliness for those there.
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Inside the top of the Westernmost tower, lay a room with walls lined with the most vibrant, detailed maps of strange, wild places covered with dots, pins and other markers, right up to the ceiling. Atop the ceiling lay a huge clear-glass dome, faintly decorated with artistic representations of events past, treaties and battles alike.
There was a beautifully painted tree sapling in the one, surrounded by youthful-looking animals and four humans, two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve. One of the boys, as with the girl standing next to him, looked barely over the age of ten, and was extremely grubby, as if he came from a harsh urban area of London at the turn of the 18th Century. Of course, the people of Narnia knew nothing of this, but people of our world would most likely recognise them as rough Cockneys.
Standing out from these two, almost as if in a 3-D reconstruction, were two adults, one man and one woman. They were finely suited, surrounded by the majority of animals, with majestic, noble faces on them. Atop their heads lay two beautiful crowns, crafted by dwarves from gold, but curiously leafy looking.
In this picture, as with every other picture there, there featured the same Golden Lion that dominated the centre of the dome. It filled one's heart with feelings of Joy and Compassion when one looked upon this fine masterpiece. The Lion was standing proud, roaring a roar that could almost be heard from within the domed room. His mane was a sea of the purest of Gold, and his muscular presence dominated the hearts of the Narnians.
In the centre of the room was a circle table carved from stone, lined with rubies and emeralds, as bright and vibrant as the day is long. Around it stood a whole concoction of different creatures. There were Fauns talking lazily with Badgers, while stout Deer stood arguing with defiant Dwarves.
The noise of the room died down, however, when the bulky doors slammed open and through them walked a line of six centaurs, two apiece.
Centaurs were incredible creatures, and renowned astronomers. Making their move depending upon the stars in the sky, their astounding precision made them invaluable field Generals, deploying the deadliest of tactics. With the sleek body of a muscular war-horse, and the ripped torso of a Human, these incredibly powerful Narnians made for some of the toughest warriors on the field, mixing their amazing kick and their bulging biceps to create chaos among the enemy.
Following the Centaurs, striding in his own air of royalty, was a human barely into his teen years.
His hair was black and growing from short, reaching his ears in a mass of jagged layers. His face was very wise looking, and not just for his age. He wore basic robes, a simple grey lined with silver around the neck. Simplicity was the best way to describe this boy King, as he walked into the room, head held straight and unmoving. A look of worry spread across his face, frowning uncontrollably.
For in case you have not guessed, this man is no other than King Edmund the Just, and very grave news has reached his ears.
The court in front of him bowed majestically, before rising again and picking up on his facial expressions. There was a momentary solemn silence, which was broken by a squirrel on the opposite side of the circular table.
"What news, Your Majesty?" he piped up, with a naïve sounding, almost squeaky voice.
"I bring word from my Royal brother;" Edmund started grimly, "the assault on the White Spire has failed." The room buzzed in low grumbles of disappointment.
"The Witches dwelling stays under rebel control?" asked a disgruntled Dwarf, "How? The attack force sent by our High King was more than enough to wipe out a small army!"
"Was the intelligence wrong? Were there more numbers in the opposition?" asked a wizened badger.
"Ah, I knew this was coming," bragged a Marshwiggle in the corner, his overly long arms waving wild gestures at the others, almost comically. "Let's see, unreliable equipment? A traitor in the midst? The rebels had a hidden alliance all along? Oh, the Witch's magic was conjured up, wasn't it?"
A black dwarf, who was recently turned to the side of the Narnians after his old Queen was slain by the Lion, walked forwards, cutting through the overreaction of the 'Wiggle.
"Don't be so stupid, Mudlugger." There was a momentary pause as those of the Table looked across at him. His tone suggested a severe dislike towards the Narnians. "I think I speak for many here too scared to speak up their views, when I blame the incompetence of our new High King."
"Enough!" scolded Edmund, breaking his own grave silence. "Your opinions are well received, but none shall speak of my brother that way!"
"But surely if he can't lead a sizeable army against…"
"Slay your tongue, Dwarf, or I will slay it for you. Mudlugger was correct in one of his seemingly endless suggestions. The Witch's remains had a hidden alliance, with a band of Calormen brigands."
At this, the room erupted into a roar of dismay.
"Those treacherous little fiends!"
"How dare they?"
"Breaking this ancient alliance?"
Edmund's thundering voice broke the disarray for a second time, "Silence! I will not have my council turn into a mass of disorganized noise!" Silence suddenly ensued.
"Better. Now then, these brigands, as I did emphasise earlier, were outcasts from the nation of Calormen. The Tisroc can't be blamed for this outburst. However, we shall be sending one of our own to discuss this matter with him, to find out whether we should be expecting any more of a Calormen resistance.
"Peter's army, on the other hand, is a much more important concern at this time. They are routing, dishevelled and broken. From what I could gather from the distressed Faun's report, they are being tailed by more rebels. Their moral shattered, even with our High King heading them, they shall need assistance losing their pursuers. For this matter, I have decided to send the Great Cats of the Southern March, with my Royal sister Queen Susan's permission. They are elite, and should help in the deliverance of Peter's remaining army."
A murmuring agreement spread throughout the council, and then another long silence broke out, before one stark black Raven, perched on the Eastern side of the table, spoke what many others were thinking;
"But what if they weren't outcasts?" he asked incredulously. The King made to argue, before the black bird cut him off. "Please, Your Majesty, if I may. All of us around this table are fully aware that the Tisroc, or all of Calormen for that matter, are not the most reliable of people. I feel it is fair to say that most of us have been stabbed in the back by them before…" Edmund looked up at the Raven, acknowledgement woven into the deep blue of his eyes.
"I understand your concerns, Clawfoot, yet I must raise the point that these dealings in the past were simple matters. They may have occasionally broken a trade agreement or supplied our enemies in the past, but we're not looking at anything nearly as serious as fortifying and fighting alongside our enemies. No, I must dismiss your claims. The Tisroc knows to respect our Crown."
A badger stepped forward, his keen nose sniffing the air around him before he spoke.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, you have not been on this council long enough to understand the Calormen. If it is your wish that we do not act upon these 'brigands', then do so at your own risk. But please, by the Lion's Mane, be very cautious when dealing with these treacherous followers of Tash."
"Your concern is duly noted, Badger. I appreciate the gracious way you have shared your view upon such concerns," Edmund replied, and then with an incredulous look to the Black Dwarf, added, "at least I know some of us can be civil here." The Dwarf stared at the King in disgust and then stormed out of the room, leaving silence in his wake.
After a slight pause of anxiousness, Edmund stood up to full height, gestured his Centaurian bodyguard, and, in the most kingly way possible, addressed his Court of Advisors;
"Council dismissed, and may Peter return home safe…" he added solemnly.
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The candlelight reflected off the small, vastly blue jewel that crept its way slowly down the soft, lightly freckled cheek of the Gentle Queen's face. Regular breathing changed to restrained, gasping hiccups as Susan sobbed.
She felt all the more stupid for it; Queens didn't cry, not even the gentle ones. But this thought didn't stop the oncoming stream, as Susan wept.
He was just some cocky stranger who had waltzed into her castle, acting as if he owned the place! Surely Susan could not be blamed for acting rashly?
Susan shook her head, stopping her tears as her body continued to shake uncontrollably. She had to stop moping, had to get out of this dull, dreary place before it consumed her.
Ignoring the hard rain as it beat down upon the window, thuds echoing throughout the still room, Susan picked up her travelling cloak and left in a hurry.
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The finely patterned door slammed shut as Edmund stalked into his own private quarters.
His face flushed a bright red as he flung himself down onto his smooth velvet red bed, his hands over his face. He had never liked meeting with the Council, it always seemed to drag on.
Yet this time, something else was bothering him. The Black Dwarf, newly appointed Councillor of Narnia, had always had something against him and his Royal Siblings. Edmund feared that adopting him into the official ceremonies was a bad idea, since after all, only a few months ago he was a strong fighter for the enemy.
Susan and Peter's words, however, rushed back to him in a flash. They had always used to tell him he was an 'island', untrusting and hard to get close to.
Maybe the Dwarf didn't have bad intentions after all. Maybe it was Edmund's self-paranoia that put him in this state, as it had many times before.
Still, thought Edmund with a slight smile, it doesn't mean I have to like him.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the door suddenly flew open and in ran the youthful, vibrant face of Edmund's youngest sister Lucy. He quickly realised that something was wrong, the usual shine in her face gone, and small, delicate teardrops were beginning to emerge at the corners of her eyes.
Edmund's first thought was that she must have found out about the High King's failure. He had specifically ordered everyone who knew not to taint the young girl's pure heart with any such information, told everyone not to replace such an innocent soul with one of worry and pain.
Instantly his mind switched to the Dwarf, a menacing look appearing on his face.
However, the next words to come out of Lucy's mouth were completely different to what Edmund expected.
"Edmund…" she struggled to speak, "Susan."
His head snapped righteously upwards, and within an instant, Edmund stalked out of the room, closely followed by Lucy's tottering footsteps.
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