A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for taking so long to update! Work has been really hectic and I just haven't had the energy to write. But I'm back! And so are our heroes!
The sun peeked over the hills in golden glory, tracing her long train over the sleeping faces of Caspian and his companions. They awoke stiff from the hard ground, but wide-eyed and alert from the sharpness of the air. After heating some gruel over a small fire they breakfasted and began preparing for another long day of travel. Lucy found a rip in her saddle and set about mending it while Reepicheep polished his blade, so Susan was left with the task of washing the plates and pot in the river, Caspian, Edmund, and Armin having already stripped their shirts and dashed, boisterously, to splash each other in the water.
Susan passed the three on her way down the hill and averted her eyes, not wanting to appear a voyeur, and settled on a rocky bank downstream where the water pooled in a small, pebbled basin. She rolled up the sleeves of her tunic and began to scrub the pot with handfuls of sand. There being only seven of them, she finished the washing quickly and laid it to dry on a warm, flat rock. As she gathered up the dishes to leave, she heard a low, rasping sound in the trees above the stream. She glanced up and was startled to find the glassy, bead-like eyes of a raven watching her. Having known a good many wise and revered ravens during her time as queen, Susan laid down her washing and nodded respectfully.
"Hello, Father Blackbird."
The raven continued to watch her without reply. Susan wandered if she had merely misidentified a dumb raven when it spoke,
"The wind that blows is sharpest with spite."
Susan furrowed her brow. Riddles were a favorite pastime of ravens, but this was unusual. Before she could inquire further, the raven spread his inky black wings and fled deep into the woods. Susan shook her head and gathered up her plates. Narnia's changes from when she had last known it were beginning to be disturbing.
When Susan returned from the stream she found the others had covered the fire with sand and were saddling their horses; Reepicheep trotted up to her, adjusting his feather, and bowed deeply.
"My queen, as I have told His Majesty, this morning I detected a strange scent on the air. It was not of beast or man, but something quite peculiar, something I have smelled only once in my life but cannot remember. I suggest we take extra caution in these wilds from here on."
Susan smiled at Reepicheep. "We are truly blessed by your nose, noble mouse."
Reepicheep saluted her. "A pleasure to assist in any way, my lady, though I wish I could identify--this scent is most worrisome."
As they traveled farther and farther north, the country grew wilder and more mysterious. They circumvented the plain on which they had camped and found themselves wandering through a dry gorge. As they entered a grove of birch trees that had once flanked the riverbed, Lucy turned to Susan with an air of almost reverence.
"It's like when Narnia was waking after the White Witch's winter," she breathed, "the trees have those soft buds and, if you listen," she held up a hand and the entire party halted, eyes wide. "They are whispering to each other."
Everyone listened as the pale green leaves rustled against each other, almost as if chatting under their breath. The breeze that wound itself through the treetops was nearly melodious, and, if it was not a trick of the late afternoon light, one could almost imagine the trees had taken the form of lanky, slender-faced maidens. They all held their breaths, transfixed, until the breeze died, they blinked, and it was just a grove of birches again.
"We should keep moving," Susan broke the silence and kneed her palfrey onward. Wordlessly, they passed through the birches and deeper into the gorge.
By the next day the gorge had given way to a shallow creek bordered by low, thick vegetation. In two days it was a river deep enough that they would have to ford it before it became impassable. Susan had an uneasy feeling about this river; like Reepicheep's fear of the indistinguishable smell, this river had an almost sinister nature. Though at the deepest portion of their crossing it was barely a meter deep, strange currents tugged at the horses hooves and rapids seemed to appear and disappear with no logical explanation. When they at last reached the opposite shore, Armin decided that it would be best not to drink from its waters.
Ahead of them they saw the lowlands gradually begin to give way to higher and higher plains, and far in the distance, perhaps a three-day ride away, was the faint silhouette of the sapphire mound, so named for the dark blue rock that had once paved its outer face. They stopped and made camp in the early evening amongst some rather strangely shaped boulders. Caspian and Lucy set to gathering firewood (Reepicheep was especially useful gathering dry twigs for kindling), while Armin and Edmund slung their bows over their shoulders and trudged off to find game. Susan had a knack for finding fresh water, so ventured out alone with the water skein to find a spring.
The stillness of this land frightened her. Around their small hollow bare hills swept up to craggy cliff sides where a thin green veil of plains grasses clung. It was wild, open country that few found enticing. When she and her siblings had been the rulers of Narnia, the old matrons would tell ghost stories late into the night, haunting accounts of the unwary wandering amongst the ancient burial sites in these lands, never to be seen again.
Of course, it was all nonsense, Susan thought as she inadvertently shivered. If she sensed anything sinister about this place it was most likely her overactive imagination. Susan rounded an especially large boulder and had to stop abruptly; as she debated with herself she had almost stumbled into a pool of water that appeared to be very deep. Susan took a few steps to each side as she examined her find.
The pool was almost perfectly round, ringed by dark blue stones not unlike those scattered throughout the area. Obviously it was fed by a spring deep down, for there was no other source of water flowing into it. Susan bent and cupped some of the water to her mouth and drank; the water was cool and fresh and slightly bubbly. Taking the water skein, she had begun to fill it when she heard a faint giggle.
"Lucy?" Susan called, looking around. No answer. She shrugged and continued to fill the skein.
"Susan"
Susan dropped the skein and surveyed her surroundings once more. "Who's there?" It was a female voice, no doubt, but was too airy and monotone to be Lucy's.
"He is handsome, there is no question as to that," Another whispery, giggling voice said. Susan looked all around her--the rocks, the sky, the low trees a few meters away--nothing.
"Oh, look at her. It is obvious."
"Like a filly in her first spring."
Susan's heart began beating rapidly as the voices grow more audible. She felt a cool spray of water to her right and turned her head slowly. Kneeling next to her was a naiad. After recovering from her initial shock, Susan was not afraid. While she had been queen of Narnia naiads and dryads had occasionally served her as handmaidens when their seasons permitted it. The figure kneeling next to her had the same flowing silvery hair and a wide, doe-eyed face. Her skin was pale and amorphous--Susan knew if she touched the naiad's hand it would be as cool and moist as spring rain.
The naiad flashed her a mischievous grin. As Susan watched, two others like her wafted out of the skin of the water.
"No doubt about it, Sisters," the naiad next to Susan said to the two in the water, "She has the blush of first love in her heart."
"And such a prince! Oooh, if he were to come over here I'd--"
"Don't be silly. Just yesterday you were making eyes at that goatheard. Leave some fun for us!"
The naiad sisters bickered amongst themselves until the one on the shore clapped her hands.
"Enough of this. Susan," She lowered her silvery voice and turned to the young woman, "Look into the water."
Susan hesitated, then slowly lowered her eyes to the surface of the pool. Some trick of the light had made it glassy and silvered, like a mirror. Susan stared--it almost seemed solid, as if she could walk upon it.
"Susan, look into the water," the other two naiads echoed.
By some will--hers or the water spirits'--Susan slowly leaned over the water until she saw her own face reflected back on its mirrored surface. But, something was strange about it. Susan's reflection seemed to be moving independently of her. While she watched, she saw herself wink and turn to walk down a long, well-lit passage of stone. Mirror-Susan stopped at a tall wooden door and turned the handle. As the door swung open the scene rapidly changed, and Susan was wearing a long flowing gown of light blue silk, and seemed to have aged a few years. The real Susan watched, transfixed, as Mirror-Susan was joined in a magnificent throne room by none other than an older, crowned Caspian. Susan looked up, confused.
The naiad smiled at Susan and indicated that she keep looking into the pool. Susan felt as if she had no choice; the naiad's smile was so persuasive and irresistible she couldn't help but to trust her. As Susan watched the scene, she saw Caspian and her mirror-self join hands. A ritual seemed to be underway--they stood before some sort of altar in the throne room of a great hall. Caspian reached for a twined silver circlet that had been resting on a cushion and placed it on Mirror-Susan's head. The two figures smiled at each other, then, to Susan's horror and delight, Caspian bent and placed a deep kiss on her mirror-self's mouth. Mirror-Susan then turned and stared straight into the real Susan's eyes with a kind of raw, enticing hunger. She raised a hand, beckoning.
Susan could not help herself: she let herself fall face-first into the water. She opened her eyes and found herself floating in an under-water palace, the round pool above being a sort of skylight to the upper world. Susan also found that, strangely, she could breathe. The naiads swam with an easy grace before her and smiled enchantingly.
"Susan, I have seen your heart and I know its desires. All of them can be fulfilled."
Susan's eyes widened incredulously. "You can do that?"
"Oh yes," the naiad's smile broadened, "Indeed." Her eyes twinkled impishly. "You have selected a most handsome prince."
Susan felt herself blush.
"We can make everything you desire come true--you can have your prince and stay in Narnia with your brothers and sister as you wish," She held out a hand, "for a price."
Susan's head swam with giddiness, she felt so docile, so trusting of those lovely smiling faces. "Oh, yes. Anything."
The first naiad's eyes narrowed. "Give us your horn."
Susan looked down at the carved ivory instrument at her waist. It had been a gift from Father Christmas, and, Aslan himself, surely not something to be given arbitrarily as a mere token or bauble of trade.
Susan looked back up at the naiads, dazed by enchantment but resolute. "No…. I cannot give you this."
The naiad looked at her apologetically, then--did her eyes flash red?--she and her sisters disappeared, as did the underwater palace. Susan found herself deep at the bottom of the pool, without air, and held down by a peculiar current. She struggled to kick her way to light and breath, but failed, and watched as her vision began to flicker and fade…
But suddenly, her face had broken into cold, blessed oxygen and she was being pulled onto the pebbled bank by the pool. She lay there with her eyes closed, coughing up water, until at last she was able to look up and view the face of her rescuer.
Caspian was kneeling over her, dark hair dripping onto her face. His eyes were rapidly scanning over her, filled with panic and fear.
"Susan, what were you thinking?" His voice was lower than usual as he spoke. "I was gathering wood over by those trees and saw you jump."
Susan did not answer him, but continued to stare into his eyes. Her body felt far away from her as she lay with pebbles pressed into her back and Caspian looking at her with so much concern and alarm. She opened her mouth to speak but coughed instead, her lungs still emptying themselves of water. Caspian slid an arm beneath her back to support her into a sitting position. Susan thought she could stay there with his arms around her for a long time before wanting to move. Caspian still appeared to be awaiting an answer for her foolhardiness, but she suddenly felt ashamed. How could she tell him she had jumped recklessly to fulfill her wish of--
No.
"I'm sorry, Caspian. I must have been bending too far over the water and slipped."
His eyebrows raised, disbelieving.
"You worried me."
"I'm sorry." She replied lamely, involuntarily shuddering with the cold.
He continued to gaze at her with a mixture of anger and relief. Caspian shook his head and gathered her in his arms, carefully stepping over stones and his discarded pile of firewood as he carried her back to the campsite. Susan felt her body respond to Caspian's warm hold--her blood began to pump through her chilled veins and she felt her breathing return to normal. She lifted a hand and placed it against his chest to steady herself as he labored with the rough footing. Beneath the cloth of his shirt she felt the strong beat of his heart. A short distance away from the campsite he set her on her feet. Susan found her strength to walk easily enough, but Caspian retained a firm grip on her arm until they reached the encampment.
Edmund and Armin were cleaning two pheasants they had shot, Reepicheep was cutting their fine feathers for arrows, and Lucy was feeding the small fire as they approached.
"Susan!" Lucy gasped as she looked up to see her sister approach, dripping cold water. "What--"
"It's nothing, Lu. I slipped and unfortunately there was some rather deep water to catch me."
Lucy's eyes shifted to Caspian questioningly. Susan pinched his arm where the others could not see.
"You 'slipped?'"
"Yes"
Lucy surveyed Susan's face for a moment.
"At any rate, you should change and let those clothes dry," Lucy said, "but I have none to spare. Did you bring any?"
Susan shook her head.
"I believe I packed a thick cloak and tunic for His Majesty in my pack," Armin called from the bar end of their bivouac, "They are some of his older clothes I thought might be useful. I would fetch them for you, Your Majesty, but--" he held up his hands covered in blood and feathers.
"I know where they are, Captain. Come, my lady." Caspian turned and, keeping a firm hand on Susan's arm, led her around a boulder towards the horses and their packs. After fetching the clothes from Armin's pack, he turned his back while Susan stripped off the sodden dress and leggings, leaving only her shift that was sure to dry quickly. She ran her hands over the tunic before dressing. The stitching was done in fine silk thread and, from the feel and weight of it, was of handcrafted linen. As she slipped it over her head, she smelled the wood of the chest it had been stored in, lye soap, and--something distinctly masculine--perhaps it was a mixture of sweat and the herbs the servants used to freshen the rushes--but it was a scent Susan could immediately identify as Caspian.
"What really caused you to jump into that pool, Susan?" Caspian asked without turning.
Susan paused as she was stepping into some warm, soft stockings. She remained silent, wrestling with herself.
"I suppose," She said slowly, "I was enchanted."
Caspian cleared his throat disbelievingly.
"No, really. I-I saw something in the water. A naiad lured me to jump after her, chasing what I saw."
Caspian wrinkled his brow. "That is not typical behavior of one of Aslan's chosen. Could it have been a hag, disguising herself?"
Susan shook her head as she shrugged into the cloak. "No. It was a naiad. But there was a dark magic in her that I have not felt from any of her kind before."
Caspian turned around and had to catch his breath. Seeing his tunic draped over her feminine curves was peculiar and incredibly attractive. He looked away to collect himself, then stepped to help her tie the cloak around her slim shoulders. Susan avoided his eyes as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck.
"There is a strangeness to this land. I think we would be wise to take caution, as Reepicheep said."
"Clearly," said Caspian. He stooped and gathered Susan's wet clothes in his hands. "Why do you suppose that is?"
"In our days in Narnia, these lands were little more than terra incognito, these burial mounds we are seeking being the far northern scrape of the map. Of course stories were rampant about sorcerers, giants, ghosts, hills that moved themselves, winds that could tell riddles…" A look of longing came to her face.
"Do you miss your days here as one of Narnia's queens?" Caspian asked quietly.
"Oh, I suppose. I think it's rather that I miss the people. Stories and traditions live on long after the friends that told them to you do. But I prefer to heed what is going on before my eyes."
"And what is that?"
Susan looked up from adjusting her stockings. Caspian had focused on her movements and now caught her eyes. A slight blush colored her cheeks as she replied, "I am not so sure at the moment." She straightened and took a deep breath.
"Tell me something."
"Yes?"
"What did your professor's stories say about me?"
Caspain raised his brows in surprise.
"They all said that Queen Susan the Gentle was the most beautiful of the Pevensies, and that her aim with a bow was to be feared."
Susan's eyes gleamed with something between disappointment and amusement. "Well, you can forget that nonsense, though the bit about the bow is certainly flattering and not a far miss, if you'll excuse the expression."
Caspian laughed, "Then how am I to know what to make of you, dear Queen?"
"You can start by calling me Susan."
He let the mirth fade from his face and said very seriously, "Yes, Susan."
"And you may ask which kind of horse I prefer over the rather insulting ladies' palfrey you have given me, why I never married any of the suitors from the old days, and which sort of book I like to read on war campaigns."
"Which shall I ask first?"
"The one I am most likely to answer truthfully."
Caspian drew a deep breath. "What sort of book would you most want to read while on a war campaign?"
"Nothing. I never went on a war campaign."
There was a brief pause, as Susan smiled to herself.
"What about the other two?"
"Considering the first, it's a bit silly to be asking now, don't you think? We are hundreds of miles away from your royal stables."
Caspian drew a breath, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "And the second?"
"That," she said, eyes flashing, "you will have to coax out of me on another occasion."
The next few days passed without mishap. As the misty, distant hilltops of the burial mounds grew closer, the land grew wilder, giving way from gently rolling pasture to chilly, barren highlands. Occasional herds of wild goats could be seen and in the nights the howling of wolves was so common that no one got very much sleep. One evening Armin produced a mandolin and proved to be a fair minstrel, crooning love songs and ballads of war to distract from the whistling winds and far-off howls.
On a particularly chilly night the entire company sat huddled around the campfire in their wool blankets as Armin strummed a few tuning notes on the mandolin. The supper plates were stowed away and the horses had decided to graze near the fire for its warmth and security. Edmund was sharpening his hunting knife, Susan was mending a worn bridle, and Lucy was humming along with Armin's chord progressions. Caspian sat staring into the fire, at which Reepicheep was poking with a long, thin stick.
"Captain Armin, the Ballad of the Battle at the Falls!" Reepicheep requested with a particularly enthusiastic jab at an ember, "A night like this deserves a tale of mettle and daring!"
Armin eased a few notes out of the mandolin before replying, "But, Sir Mouse, we had The War of the Fauns and Satyrs yester eve."
"How about Averyll the Archer?" Edmund suggested
"Another tale of great deeds, but not one I'm as familiar with. That one is very old, Your Majesty." Armin replied with a lopsided grin. "What does our ever-silent King Caspian request this night?"
Caspian thought for a moment before answering, "Edlen and Thane"
Armin nodded approvingly. "Quite the romantic, our King is." He tuned the strings for a moment before playing a long, sorrowful chord.
From far a-sea came Thane the Shipman's son
To wed Miss Edlen fair,
He, strong of heart, she, sweet of song,
They met when spring was young.
The tale was a sad one; the lovers were cast out to sea by a treacherous and jealous sailor and lost forever. By the last verses both Lucy and Susan were sniffling, and Edmund and Caspian were trying very hard to appear unaffected, while Reepicheep squeaked indignantly, "You must have left out, good Captain, where Thane's best friend returned to slash the traitor through the heart."
Armin, despite the solemn mood at the conclusion of his song, had to chuckle. "If you were to write every ballad, Sir Reepicheep, I am sure every babe growing up on these songs at his mother's knee would have a very refined understanding of poetic justice."
"Indeed!" Reepicheep got to his little feet and brandished his rapier. "I say, Your Majesty, I am quite ready for a real foe!"
Caspian smiled. "Perhaps you shall meet one soon. Tomorrow we should arrive at the Sapphire Mound. If these old ghost stories turn out to be true, we will have need of your valor."
"Oh, don't" said Lucy, shivering, "Not while it's dark and spooky like this."
"I say, I quite agree with Reep," said Edmund, "I'm near sick of these bloody hills."
The next morning the skies were gray and heavy, and the air was wet with anticipation of a storm. By the time the party came upon the Sapphire Mound, a fine drizzle was soaking through their thick hooded cloaks, making the going perfectly miserable. Susan looked up through the mist as they approached the monument; enshrouded in the low clouds and misty rain, it looked as if they were approaching the wall of a great city. She shivered when she imagined cold, glinting eyes staring down at them.
Caspian led the party around the east side of the structure; their horses' hooves rang dully on the spongy ground and silence pressed close around them. Presently they halted before the faint outline of a yawning hole in the side of the hill. All besides Reepicheep stood before the entrance without speaking, even stilling their breaths that seemed too loud in the great white quiet around them.
But then the mouse leapt from Lucy's saddlebow and raised his needle-like rapier.
"Take heart, friends! The dark has nothing to fear but our light and our swords!" He turned and began to advance into the tunnel. They stared after him for a brief moment, then Armin, Edmund, and Caspian scrambled from their horses in haste to follow him. Lucy and Susan followed, still cautious. Edmund lit his electric torch and tagged behind Caspian. The darkness pressed upon them much heavier than had the foggy silence outside; it grew colder and damper as they wound through the narrow tunnel, Susan imagining all kinds of evil-tempered, many-legged horrors scurrying above her head and about her feet.
After what seemed hours the close sound of their labored breathing and footsteps seemed to all but disappear. They had entered into a cavern of sorts. Edmund shined his torch up and around them, revealing the glitter of stalactites and stalagmites, and the dark course of a shallow stream. There seemed to be arched holes cut into the walls of the cave, and as Edmund focused the beam of his torch on one of them, they saw that it was a human-carved archway with runes and pictograms etched around the lentils.
Without warning Reepicheep dashed into the dark archway. Caspian and Armin shouted stern orders for him to retreat immediately, but the mouse's squeaking voice could be heard excitedly from inside, "No fear! It is merely the final abode for good King Philip V."
Inside the archway was a narrow, low niche. On its floor, a stone effigy of the late king lay peacefully clutching a shield bearing a lion. The walls of his sepulcher were painted with scenes from his childhood, adulthood, and later life, all surrounded by beautiful motifs of dragons, lions, satyrs, and vines.
Each of the archways in the cavern held a similar scene; some of the effigies depicted lovely queens, tragically young princes and princesses, respected advisors, beloved friends. In one, a fluting faun reminded Lucy forcibly of Mr. Tumnus and she was forced to suppress a few sniffles. It was obvious after inspecting each grave that the Sapphire Mound housed the family mausoleum of Philip V's line. Despite the wonder everyone felt at peeking into Narnia's past, the more pressing matter of their mission began to weigh on their minds.
"Ah, here it is--the way to the next chamber," Reepicheep called from the far end of the cavern. The last archway housed a locked, but crumbling, wooden door instead of a grave.
"Armin?" Caspian turned to his burly captain.
"Of course, my liege," Armin said with a grin, and, taking the butt end of his sword, began hacking away at the rusted, ornate handle. After a few tense minutes, there was a satisfying crack and the handle snapped completely off the door.
Caspian readied to push the door open, sword drawn.
"Courage, my king!" Reepicheep piped.
Caspian kicked open the door, and all where suddenly blinded by a wash of intense golden light.