Chapter 2
A/N: grumbling Finally get a chance to write...summer class...never again... looks up Hi! Here is chapter two, and may it be pleasing to the readers! (Note: I'm not sure whether it's rude to refer to Cornelius as a half-dwarf – if it is, please let me know.)
REMINDER: I have changed the name of Ramandu's daughter – or rather traded it with the name of her handmaiden. Ramandu's daughter is Mithriel, and her lady-in-waiting is Leila. I have also edited the previous chapter accordingly, and I hope this switch causes no confusion.
The heavy book almost fell apart as Dr. Cornelius opened it and slammed it down urgently on the table near the stained-glass window in the library. Loose sheets of leathery paper fluttered out of it, and the faun who attended the Royal Library at this hour went skittering after them. Mithriel obligingly held the other old book Dr. Cornelius had snatched up as the half-dwarf scoured through the pages of his book, muttering to himself.
Mithriel let her eyes wander to the stained glass window above them. This window depicted the planting of the Tree of Protection, on the day Narnia had been created. She found time to again wish, as she had several times when she was a child, that she had been there to see that tree. Her father Ramandu had seen it, but he could tell her very little about it, as he'd seen the tree from a great distance and when he was a newborn star.
"My fears are confirmed," Dr. Cornelius said suddenly. He pointed to his open book. Mithriel bent over his shoulder and scanned the passage that he indicated.
Lycolepsy is a malady that results from an accursed bite of the Werewolf. In Beasts the disease hath no ill effect save for a slight flush of fever, which passes within the day. In Man the degree of fatality depends upon the particular curse attributed to the bite by the Werewolf. Often the Werewolf, bearing malevolent will toward his victim, mandates within the curse that the Man shall feel no ill effect until a certain number of months or years has passed – most commonly five to ten years.
"Caspian was bitten by a Werewolf ten years ago, in a scuffle we had at Aslan's How," Dr. Cornelius said again.
"I remember now," Mithriel said, "that from far-off, my father was watching the events of the civil war. I did not see it for myself, but he told me that the Prince seemed to have been bitten by a Werewolf. 'I hope no misfortune shall come of it,' he said, and we forgot all about it – rather, I did. He surely remembers it still." She continued reading.
The symptoms of lycolepsy begin with paleness and dampness of the skin, a glassy look about the eyes, desperate thirst, vertigo, poorly coordinated movement, aching of the muscles, weariness, and a hectic ague.
Mithriel tallied the symptoms as she read – they were all presently manifest in Caspian.
This is followed by vomiting and loss of appetite. During the second phase of the illness, the victim may sink into a deep sleep from which he cannot be aroused. In all cases there is a severe flow of blood from the wound, difficult to stanch.
The victim will die within seven to ten days – if the bleeding is not quelled, he may die sooner of exsanguination. There is no remedy yet known for lycolepsy.
Fear washed over Mithriel again and made it hard to breathe. She had not felt such real, suffocating fear since...She had never had reason to feel such fear.
There is no remedy yet known for lycolepsy.
"But what about Queen Lucy's cordial?" Dr. Cornelius said suddenly. "The fire-flower should be able to cure any illness."
"My father is well-acquainted with the powers of that cordial, as it is his own invention. It can heal, but it cannot break a curse. At least, not when it is as low a concentration as Queen Lucy's cordial. I don't know whether the case would be altered with a higher concentration." She scanned the list of symptoms again. "Still, I wish to administer a drop to the King and at least alleviate some of the pain he must now be enduring."
"There must be something else," Dr. Cornelius said, pulling at his beard as he flicked through the pages of his book. "There must be. Every curse has a remedy; it simply cannot be otherwise, it's not possible." He looked up at Mithriel, and took the book from her arms with a sympathetic half-smile. "I can see you want something to do. Will you see to the cordial? I will remain in the library and continue to research for a remedy."
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"Are you more comfortable now?" Mithriel asked, resealing the vial that held Queen Lucy's cordial.
Caspian nodded and began to sit up on one elbow. "Thank you. I'll be fine after – "
"No, stay. You need to rest." Mithriel gently pushed him back into the pillows. She took Caspian's right hand and very carefully peeled back a little bit of the bandage that covered the Werewolf's bite. Her heart sank when she saw that the cordial had done nothing for the bleeding.
"You know, don't you?"
Mithriel replaced the bandage. "What should I know, my lord?" she asked politely.
Caspian's eyes met hers. "You know what's wrong with me. And I wish you'd tell me. I'd rather know than not."
"I do know," Mithriel admitted. "Dr. Cornelius and I have confirmed it." In a low, hesitant voice, she explained everything. Caspian was silent until she was finished, and even then he said nothing. He stared out the tall window across the room, and his expressionless face worried Mithriel – she had never seen him so devoid of emotion.
"Are you all right?"
Caspian jumped, startled out of his thoughts. His eyes were full of fear. "What will happen to Narnia? To you?"
They both knew what would happen ceremonially. Since Caspian had no heir, there would be a period of interregnum until the Narnian Court chose a successor, neither of them liked the idea of an interregnum with Calormenes in Cair Paravel. But Mithriel knew he was not talking about ceremony.
An idea flashed through her mind: Mother.
"If Aslan sees fit to separate us," Mithriel said very slowly, "I will not speak against Him. But we have time. I will not rest until I have done all within my power to free you from this curse."
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The sun was beginning to set as Mithriel returned to the Library, turning her plan over in her mind, attempting to find a strategic flaw.
She found Dr. Cornelius where she had left him, still deep in his reading. "Dr. Cornelius?"
He didn't reply. When she reached out for his shoulder, he jumped violently and snapped, "I have an idea."
Mithriel sighed. "As do I."
"What is yours, my lady?"
"I would go to my mortal mother in Terebinthia. She is a skilled healer and has great knowledge of curses and methods for breaking them." She swallowed delicately. "If only my father were near; he would carry me there swiftly..."
Dr. Cornelius looked suddenly hopeful. "If that is what you really wish to do, my Queen, then I can send you to Terebinthia at an excellent speed. My idea also necessitates a visit to Terebinthia. First, I have found evidence that there may be fire flowers in Terebinthia. If we find enough there, we can extract from them a cordial similar to Queen Lucy's, but more highly concentrated. Even if it cannot break the curse, it should certainly sustain the King's life long enough for us to find the method for breaking it."
Mithriel nodded and brushed a stray lock of hair away.
"Second: You know about the Tree of Protection, planted by a Son of Adam at the dawn of the world?"
"Yes. The fruit had curative properties?"
"Among other properties." He stood up and began pacing. "If the scholars are not all errant liars, there may still be some descendants of the Tree scattered about the land. While you were with the King, I carefully scoured through the histories of the Tree and the colonization of the lands and islands surrounding Narnia – I believe that if there are any Children of the Tree remaining, they have the greatest chance of being found in Terebinthia. Whether the fruit will still be curative I can't tell, but it seems to me we have little other recourse. "
Hope began to wash over Mithriel. "Then I must away to Terebinthia, as quick as can."
"I have a way," Dr. Cornelius said, slamming his book shut. "But first, I think we must inform King Caspian of our intentions."
The star's daughter and the half-dwarf hurried out of the library.
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C.S. Lewis never specified what the Narnian laws prescribe when a monarch dies without leaving an heir. Caspian not only has no heir at this time, but he also has no longer has immediate family in Narnia. (His cousin, the son of Miraz, might have been heir apparent, but I assume that he departed for our world along with other Telmarines in PC.) Also, it is not specified what happens in a period of interregnum. So I had to do a bit of guesswork, and finally came to the conclusion that either the monarch chooses a successor, or, if unable to do so, the Narnian Court does. Before the successor's ascension, there is a period of interregnum during which the previous ruler is mourned and interred, and the successor is prepared for his or her office. If this system seems uncanonical somehow, please do not hesitate to let me know.
A/N: There you have it! Review if you found it enjoyable!