The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby
Chapter Seven
Had Edmund been the size he used to be, that is to say much taller, it never would have worked. That being said, things didn't quite go as planned.
The Wolf leapt directly at Edmund, teeth bared and snarling, intending on pulling him from his horse. Edmund had been pretty sure that was going to happen. So while Trumpkin and Reepicheep had been going on, the king had pulled his feet from the stirrups (no sense in getting hung up, see how well it had worked out for Caspian!) and had loosened his limbs. Therefore when the Wolf lunged, Edmund had already started falling back over the side of his mount, missing the snapping jaws. What he hadn't taken into account was how much heavier the Wolf was than him. So as it tumbled over with him, it partially crushed him down as they rolled, trapping his arm into the dirt and keeping him from drawing his sword completely.
It was almost his undoing.
There was a soft scraping noise and a grunt of pain from himself. For a brief moment the world was only coarse grey fur, spinning darkness, and hot rancid breath in his face, much too close for comfort. Then the pair stopped rolling and it was only by pure luck that Edmund came out on top, straddling the wolf with his elbow lodged so deep in its throat that it was making a choking sound. Not really knowing what else to do, and unable to give the prearranged signal, the young man held on as it flipped over. Jaws snapped as the Wolf cursed and clawed at him, but the boy king wouldn't let go, and being beneath his neck like that, the Wolf could not get at him with his teeth. But a Wolf, especially this one, is much stronger than a human, and eventually it succeeded in dislodging Edmund and tossing him aside. Edmund skidded back, a low whistle escaping his throat, and he braced himself as the Wolf crept forward.
"Clever boy, but not clever enough," the Wolf snarled.
"Are you sure about that?" Edmund gasped, a bit more jovially then Trumpkin thought was proper, considering the king was about to be eaten. Noticing that his stomach was cooler than normal, the Wolf glanced down and realized that the edge of Edmund's half drawn sword had neatly shaved his belly, and the Creature shook in fury.
"You will pay for that, boy!" he growled, and then he leapt.
A huge taloned foot caught the Wolf midair and slammed him back into the dirt at Edmund's feet. The Wolf yelped in painful surprise and twisted, biting at what pinned him down, uttering a string of curses best left unmentioned here. The great Eagle Alanar dipped his mighty head and let out an awful screech, before shifting his weight forward. The Wolf's words cut off with a strangled grunt.
"Thanks awfully," Edmund said, meaning every word of it as he stood up and brushed his hands off. He looked around at the rest of the snarling Packs. "Now then, I would recommend quieting up a bit, you lot. Unless you decide to attack us, I'm not going to hurt him, not a Pack Leader as glorious as…what was your name again, Sir Wolf?"
The Wolf just glared until Alanar dipped his razor sharp beak closer, mere inches from the Wolf's throat.
"Maugrim," the Wolf snarled, then yelped as he was squished for his tone. Belatedly he added a strangled "Your Majesty."
Edmund looked at him, confused. "I knew a Wolf named Maugrim before. Unpleasant chap. I thought Narnians didn't make a habit of repeating names."
"It is not a name, it is a Title, you foolish human…oww! Wretched flier, I'll not have a head left it you don't ease off," Maugrim growled.
"I didn't know that," Edmund said. "Never heard it before."
"Perhaps if the Kings and Queens of Narnia had spent less time exiling us Wolves and more time listening to us, then perhaps you would know something worth knowing."
"Perhaps," Edmund allowed. "But that is the past and this is the present. What is the Title of Maugrim?"
"I am The Pack Leader," he replied, golden eyes glittering.
"So then, you're the one I need to talk with." Edmund, being either quite stupid or quite brave, sat down next to where the Wolf was pinned. "I'm going to have Alanar let you up now, but know that if you turn on us, or any of these Packs do, the other Eagles watching will report back to the High King and King Caspian. They will take both armies and wipe out every last one of you, except for the Rogues that fought with us at Boruna. Now, Alanar, please release him."
Giving a look almost bordering reproach to the king, the Eagle let go of the Wolf. Maugrim rolled over and rose to his feet, looking for all the world as if he wished to tear the throat out of the young man in front of him. But legend had told of more than just the High King's dangerousness, but also of King Edmund's honesty. The duty of a Maugrim was to lead the Packs, not to allow them to be exterminated. The Maugrim that Edmund had known was the most cursed one in Wolfish history, and they still paid for the mistakes he had made. Angry as he was, this Maugrim knew better. This King was not lying.
"I'll forgive the attack," Edmund said simply. "But in return I need something from you Wolves."
"What is that?" Maugrim asked warily. "Wolves are not in the habit of doing favors, unless of course they are a Rogue dog." The last part was spoken with as much derision that could be voiced. Amongst the gathered Wolves, a low growl of agreement arose. Obviously there was no love lost.
"It is not a favor," Edmund spoke sharply. "It is a command from your King."
"We Wolves have no King," Maugrim countered amusedly, seeming to relax as he lay down. The Wolf was so large that he was still on eye level with the king, although deliberately a touch higher. "And we ignore the barking of pups."
"Watch your tongue, you ruffian!" Reepicheep couldn't help himself, but Edmund ignored him. In fact, he had almost forgotten the two were there, what with how quiet they had been.
"And yet you live in a kingdom ruled by three." There was steel in his voice, enough so that he had the Wolf's attention. "You hunt and whelp and die in forests that I could have cut down at any time. You run fields that I could burn, and you live off Creatures that do as I bid."
"We have made a Pact with Wolfsbane!" Maugrim almost barked. "Or does he refuse our Peace?"
"You have broken the Pact by attacking me, without warning or reason," Edmund retorted, starting to look irritated.
"The agreement is to not hunt and feed off Animals," the Wolf reminded him. "But there was nothing about allowing trespassers free access onto our lands."
"My lands, Wolf Lord. Not yours, mine. Which I hold in care for the people of Narnia. Having never pledged to the throne, you Wolves have lowest priority when it comes to territory."
They did not like hearing that. The snarls and growls from all around him filled the forest, unceasing until Maugrim raised his muzzle in the air and let out a deep howl. The Packs fell silent.
"You make threats that you will not see through," Maugrim called his bluff, to which Edmund gave a smirk.
"Try me, Wolf. I hear the outskirts of Narnia are especially hot this time of year, and food scarce."
Maugrim stared at him silently, then rose to his haunches. The Creature was trembling with fury, but it did him justice that he contained it, his voice calm. "What is it that you would have us do, King of the Narnians?"
Edmund let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
"I'm in search of the Beast of Witherby, the creature that you warned my sister about. It stole into the castle last night and caused harm to both the Queens, before slipping away with something important. I need your Packs to find its trail, and I need a guide in which to help me track it to its lair."
"And in return for our help?" Maugrim asked flatly. Edmund looked about, making sure to make eye contact with as many individuals as possible.
"In return, I will forgive the attack tonight. I will uphold the Pact, and act as a Mediator between the Wolves and the throne. But most importantly, Maugrim Pack Leader, I will give you back something that the Wolves of Narnia lost centuries before now." Edmund leaned forward, intently. "I will give you back your Honor, lost at the feet of the White Witch so many generations ago."
The Wolves of Narnia considered this, even as they considered eating these three and being done with it. The Eagle complicated things, but could possibly be brought down with enough numbers. It would feed them for awhile. They considered these things, as Maugrim considered Edmund. Finally the Wolf rose to his feet, lifted his muzzle in the air, and let out another echoing cry. The other Wolves hesitated momentarily before fading into the darkness silently.
"We will help you find this Beast," Maugrim said. Then his tongue rolled out and he grinned at them like the Wolf he was. "And I shall go with you, to make sure you keep your promises."
"Thank you, Maugrim," Edmund inclined his head. As the Wolf himself slipped off into the forest, he spoke quite clearly in his rumbling voice.
"Do not thank me yet, pup King."
There was silence for a full minute before Trumpkin finally managed to get his rapidly beating heart under control.
"Well, that was stupid," the Dwarf said, his eyes wide as he stared at his King. Edmund had started laughing, so much so that he fell back into the grass.
"No, Trumpkin," Edmund gasped in relief. "That was bloody stupid."
"At least we're in agreement," Trumpkin muttered, then went about trying to catch Edmund's loose horse, an awed Reepicheep in tow.
Alanar, the only Eagle in the forest that night, said nothing and simply winged up silently into the sky.
One of the things that Susan had always enjoyed about being in Narnia was the opportunity upon state occasions to get dressed up in finery. And as the Queen, it was important that she looked the part. Unfortunately looking the part was much nicer than the process of being made to look the part. So at the unexpected arrival of the Duke of Galma, Susan found herself surrounded by a flurry of activity as her ladies and Creatures in waiting desperately tried to help her get ready in time. Lucy never took long, since she was so young it was allowed for her to look less polished. Unfortunately, the same was not true of Susan.
"Her Majesty must look the part," a nervous Badger insisted, pulling and tugging at her corset. Susan was leaning against a bedpost, wincing each time the constricting garment sucked her tighter.
"Mrs. Badger," Susan gasped after a particularly rough jerk. "Must it be so tight?"
"Sorry dear," she apologized. "But it looks like the seamstress took your gown in a bit too much, and that's the only one we've got right now." The Badger, who had been in charge of Susan's clothes, looked embarrassed. "I sent the rest to be altered, my Queen, what with the weight you've lost this last few weeks, a wonder that, must not be eating enough or else worrying yourself to death… And if anyone had thought to give us a bit of a warning, then I could have sent the dresses out sooner--"
Mrs. Badger continued to prattle on worriedly, and Susan grabbed on tightly to the bedpost, only half listening.
"--such a shame because all that finery at Cair Paravel just didn't fit anymore, I do say I think her Majesty has an inch or two yet to grow. There you go dear, I think that has you tucked in tight enough…you look a bit peaked child, do you need me to loosen it for a moment?"
"And have you re-tighten it up again?" Susan just about whimpered at the thought. "No thanks."
"Okay, now then with the dress."
Getting into a formal gown is not nearly as easy as one might think; it certainly isn't the same as pulling on a skirt or a simple dress. No, these kinds of gowns were of delicate fabrics, beaded and sewn with tiny threads, and one could not touch any part of it wrong unless they wanted to find all those bits of pearl and jewels on the floor. So Susan bent over as if she was diving and held quite still as Mrs. Badger and a beautiful Dwarf named Rosetta slid the gown over her head and down the rest of her.
"They say that the Duke of Galma is pressing for an engagement," Rosetta said, tugging the skirts in place. Susan realized that she couldn't breathe in this dress, and then decided that there wasn't much she could do about it besides get a new seamstress.
"The daughter of a Duke for our High King?" Mrs. Badger said scornfully. "Why that's just preposterous."
"Not the High King, Badger," Rosetta continued, risking a glance at Susan. "King Caspian."
Susan said nothing, and in fact her expression only seemed to become smoother. Reversely, Mrs. Badger became positively irate.
"Lord Caspian? Why that's… that's insulting that is! As if any in the world couldn't see that the young king is madly in love with our Queen--" She was promptly but gently reprimanded.
"Be easy, Mrs. Badger," Susan said softly. "It does not become us to gossip this way. The King's heart is a private affair and shall remain that way until he sees fit to make it known."
"Sorry, your Majesty," the Badger apologized, looking embarrassed. Rarely did Queen Susan reprimand anyone that wasn't her siblings or their equals. Rosetta echoed the apology, blushing prettily. (It might be mentioned that Rosetta's blush was the only thing that made rough old Trumpkin weak in the knees, but that's a tale for another day.)
Silently the two finished their work, a bit abashed, and politely curtseyed before leaving her with the lady in waiting that would finish her hair. Alone with the woman, whom Susan had found quiet and pleasant company, the queen allowed herself to slump a bit. That is to say, her shoulders slumped. The rest of her was held straight by the dress. Susan was thankful it was modestly cut, or this would be indecent to wear in public. She wondered briefly if it was too old fashioned, as many of her clothes were, and if she would look a fool in court in front of the Duke and his daughter.
"Are you able to sit, your Majesty?" Mari, the lady in waiting, asked her sympathetically. Susan gingerly sat, although found it more difficult than standing. But Mari was just as short as she was, a slip of a blonde young woman, and it was necessary so she could braid and pin Susan's hair properly. Susan let out a breath, wishing she could take a decent one back in. How silly, going through this just to look proper in front of a girl that Susan was trying hard not to dislike straight away. It wasn't fair to blame her; she might not have any say in the matter. She might take one look at Caspian and beg her father to change his mind.
"As if that would happen," Susan muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at herself. Take one look at the King and the girl was likely to do the exact opposite.
"Is this too uncomfortable for you, your Majesty?" Mari inquired, and Susan shook her head glumly.
"I'm a Queen of Narnia," she told Mari, but in truth she was talking to herself. "I must be able to sit through such matters of state without letting my personal feelings affect me. I have been, well was courted enough to know that it isn't uncommon for a suit to be pressed. Caspian is… he is strong enough to decide what he wants without caving to external pressures. He will do as he chooses, whatever that may be."
There was silence after Susan's speech, then Mari blushed a bit and bobbed a little curtsey.
"I meant are the pins too uncomfortable, my lady?" the woman explained, looking embarrassed to have seemed to be prying. Susan realized her mistake, then she started to smile.
"They are fine. Pins are not called 'pillows' for a reason. And that was quite silly of me, wasn't it Mari?" she asked with a little laugh. The lady smiled back.
"I just need to get through this without making a fool of myself," Susan sighed. "I'm aware of the rumors that are running about, and even though things are not as they seem to the people, that does not stop them from wanting to see how I handle this. Especially if Caspian ends up favoring her…" She didn't know why it was easier saying this in front of another human. Maybe because the Telmarines didn't look at the Pevensies with as much awe and admiration as the old Narnians, and thus made her feel a bit more normal.
"The Telmarines gossip because it fills their time, not their minds." The lady in waiting's words were clipped.
"You say that as if gossip angers you," Susan raised an eyebrow. Mari blushed deeper, biting her lip as she tucked back a sweep of hair from Susan's brow.
"You may speak freely, Mari," she told her lady gently. "You may be a Telmarine, but we are all Narnians. You have the right to speak your mind to even the High King."
"If I were to speak my mind, my Queen," she sounded hesitant, but sincere. "Then I would say that the Queen has nothing to fear. I know what it's like to have a man look at you as if you are the only thing in the room. And when her majesty is with the king, there is no one else he sees. The daughter of Galma could be a great beauty, but it will not matter."
Susan gave her lady in waiting a thankful smile, than she said, "That man you speak of must be special."
"He…he was. Yes, my lady, he truly was." The muted grief in her voice caused Susan to fall silent, but not before reaching out and giving the woman's hand a gentle squeeze.
The daughter of the Duke of Galma squinted. And she had freckles. Caspian didn't know why that stood out so much in his mind as he bowed to the young lady, but it did. Therefore if someone asked what he thought of her, than that was what he was going to reply, polite or not. Because really, if anyone had bothered to ask if Caspian wanted these two to come calling, he would have certainly said no. There was way too much for the young king to have to think about, without having the ginger haired Lady Gerdi staring at him as if he was a prized horse she wished to buy. It was almost embarrassing.
Peter certainly seemed amused.
"I believe that it is love at first sight," Peter murmured to Caspian, his eyes sparkling mischievously as the lady curtseyed yet a third time, showing a gloriously dangerous amount of freckled cleavage. Their words were covered by the loud announcements of Galma's entourage and the many knights to the people. Some were well known to the Telmarine commoners from previous tournaments and they cheered mightily.
"Perhaps the High King is interested in taking a wife himself," Caspian replied out of the corner of his mouth.
"I would never enter contest with you for a lady, my friend," Peter snickered. "Not even one as doe-eyed and enthusiastic as that one seems to be."
"I am not sure how that dress is even staying on," Caspian whispered, raising an eyebrow dubiously.
"Oh, they use tape glued with honey," Lucy piped in, blissfully unaware as she slipped in line next to Peter. "Susan once told me that was how the more… what was her word? Eager girls did it. I never did quite understand what she meant, though. How does one eagerly wear a dress so tight?"
Peter coughed and Caspian grew red in the face, and both kings bit back laughs.
"Speaking of which, shouldn't Susan be here to greet them too?" she continued.
"Oh, that's a good idea," Peter snorted, once again smirking at the uncomfortable Caspian. "In a bit of a spot, are you?"
"Your Majesty's amusement at my expense is unkind," Caspian retorted, looking a bit wild about the eyes. "Perhaps the queen won't arrive…"
"Perhaps you ought to start running right now," the High King suggested, noticing that Susan was on her way towards them, looking very regal in her attire. She also looked quite important with the fully armored general, Lord Tenneth, a step behind.
"Running from what?" Lucy whispered, as Gerdi once more tried to catch Caspian's eye as she curtseyed very deeply.
"From those," Peter smirked, getting a befuddled look from Lucy, and no reply from Caspian. Craning his head, he saw that his friend was staring unabashedly at Susan. Peter had to admit, she did turn out well, for a sister and all. The Lady Gerdi followed Caspian's gaze, then frowned briefly. Susan stepped onto the platform, and with a tiny smile for them all, she turned to the Duke of Galma.
"My Duke," Susan said kindly, with the slightest nod of her head. "Lady Gerdi. Welcome to our home. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"
The Duke, a paunchy redheaded man named Hornabret (poor fellow), looked at Susan with slightly widened eyes. Then he swept down into a dramatic bow, taking her hand.
"Her Majesty is as beautiful as the stories have said," he oozed, pressing an overlong kiss to her knuckles and did not look like he planned on releasing her hand anytime soon. "Narnia has been too long deprived of such a flower."
"The Duke is kind," Susan replied, wondering if he was going to let go. He wasn't. Lucy rolled her eyes, Peter groaned silently, but Caspian's eyes narrowed.
"My lady has not been to Galma for a long time," he said with an oily smile. Then he kissed her hand again, mouth there even longer.
"I have not been to many places for a long time, dear Duke," Susan chuckled, then she shot Peter a helpless look.
"Hornabret, my esteemed Queen. Please call me Hornabret. May I call you Queen Susan, at your pleasure? It is such a beautiful name…"
Caspian gave a pointed cough, which the Duke seemed to not notice. Having done this sort of thing many times before, Peter was about to intercede. But then quite smoothly the other young king moved to Susan's side, the same one that the Duke had her hand.
"As much as I can appreciate formality, my good Duke, perhaps we should take this processional inside out of the heat, and refresh ourselves? Your Majesty?" Caspian emphasized her title deliberately, catching and holding the Duke's eye pointed as he held out his arm to her. Susan barely contained her amusement as Hornabret was forced to drop her hand so that she could place it lightly on Caspian's arm. The lady Gerdi watched with calculating eyes, and a tiny cheer went up from some of the Narnian Creatures as the pair fell in next to the High King. Lucy was holding Peter's hand, but she was grinning knowingly at her sister and Caspian.
"That wasn't quite subtle," Peter smirked.
"He irritated me," Caspian said flatly.
"Try not to get me into another war," the High King commanded. "I'm still up to my eyeballs in your last one."
"Then tell him to keep his bloody hands to himself," Caspian muttered under his breath, using one of Edmund's favorite phrases. Susan actually laughed, and Lucy shared a look with Peter.
"He has no clue, does he?" she asked her brother.
"Give him another year or two and he will."
Caspian simply grunted and laid his other hand on top of Susan's, knowing exactly what they were talking about. The Queen just smiled.
The best way to hide is right out in the open. Slinking about is the perfect way to get yourself caught, or at least cause suspicions to be raised. So the two met in the most visible place they could think of, right outside the throne room. The one had already been waiting for a while, the other had been forced to attend the royals at the processional, and now looked hot and sunburned.
"Took you long enough," the first one said, arms crossed.
"Took them long enough. Do you have it with you?"
The first smirked and openly handed the second a leather pouch, which the second held out for the world to see. He poked his nose in the bag, then grinned.
"I wouldn't spend too much time sniffing that, unless you want to see how well it works," the first suggested.
"Perhaps another time," the second laughed. He tucked the pouch into his belt. "I can't keep his Majesty waiting, can I?"
"Hmmmm…be careful not to give him too much. It could cause problems."
"Isn't that the point?" The second asked with an evil grin.
The first just shrugged. It was all the same to him. The boy wouldn't last long enough for it to matter anyways.
The day and part of the night passed by, and there was no sight of the Wolves.
"They're not coming back," Trumpkin said for the fiftieth time, poking at their small fire with a stick. "We're just wasting our time."
"They will return," Edmund assured the dwarf, although secretly he was beginning to wonder if his friend was right. If he was then they were back at the beginning, no closer to their prey than they had been two days ago. He was occupying himself by flipping a small dagger between his fingers.
"They gave their word," Reepicheep spoke up, as if that settled the matter.
"Great lot of good that is…" Trumpkin muttered, then froze as he felt hot breath across the back of his neck.
Maugrim snapped his massive jaws right beneath the dwarf's ear, making him jerk sideways in fright. The Wolf smirked as he sat down on his haunches in the place Trumpkin had just been.
"We have found the trail, pup king," he said, golden eyes gleaming as if amused. "You will not like where it leads."
"Not like we have a choice," Edmund shrugged. "Where are we headed to?"
"The Bad thing moves North… towards the mountains and the Castle of the White Queen." At this Edmund went still, his eyes locked on the Wolf's as if trying to find deceit there.
"They say those mountains are the home of hoards of Giants," Trumpkin told Edmund quietly. The Wolf watched as the king wearily stood up and tucked his dagger away.
"Then we shall have to move quietly and quickly," he said, kicking out the fire before taking up his horse's reins and mounting. He rode off towards the North, the Wolf slipping in and out of the trees as he ranged beside. Coming up more slowly behind them with Trumpkin (the dwarf had yet to get the handle of this riding thing), Reepicheep pursed his Mouse lips. Finally he nodded in satisfaction, whiskers twitching.
"This trip is most fortuitous," he decided. "For I always have wanted to slay a Giant."
The Dwarf knew better than to say a thing.