ZOMGZ! It's finally here! Lupus, with the final chapter! Once upon a time in the far-away land of Internet, it was never Lupus, until suddenly! It was Lupus. This chapter is special to my heart and not only for the ultraviolence, my droogs. I chose the best battle-music I could find: "Today I Woke to the Rain of Blood" by Combichrist. I also dropped a link on my profile to a YouTube Playlist of the SOUNDTRAAACK! Just Clickity Click! (I don't own anything by C.S. Lewis. This is a non-profic fanfiction.)
After four days of travel, they finally reached the ancient forests that were the Western Wilds. The roads here were few and mostly overgrown, like great tunnels of orange, yellow, and red hewn through the forest. They were endless, having few forks. In some places, it was impossibly narrow. It was very hard to imagine the Grand Visier and his men negotiating this wild place. There was moss on all the trees. All the trees had tangled roots.
There was barely a rustle to their left. Then there was a rustle to the right. Then a flapping sound from above. Suddenly, they were surrounded by a dozen or so black-bearded dwarves. A large-tusked talking boar stood before them on the road. King Edmund ordered all to stand down.
Scarlette had been riding in the cart with the cargo and was pinned by something with a leathery face much like that of an old woman, but more exaggerated. She also had large wings. Her hands were knobby and clawed. Her back was flesh colored with many freckles and large scales and ridges like an alligator. She had a stout tail that looked too short for her frame, a long torso, and was very pear-shaped with vestigial breasts that pointed straight downward and legs shorter than her arms. She was a hag (though hagon is the full word): a hybrid creature, always female, from a dragon and a witch.
The hagon is a highly desired minion amongst witches. Those who survive the terror of being mounted and rutted with by a careless, witless, fire-breathing, killer beast with magpie tendencies (not at all like a man turned into a dragon, but that is a story that happens much later in Narnian history during a wholly different dynasty); and who also live through the pregnancy, and birth gain an invaluable servant. There is only one witch who has undergone this ordeal more than once and lived, and the elder of the three offspring was pinning Scarlette.
"What's the matter, girl?" she said in a singsong voice as if talking to a child. "Never seen the like, then?"
"Who are you?" Scarlette said, mindful of the pack on her back that contained her purse, some money and victuals, and the sword she had come to call the "super-special-awesome" sword that was entrusted to her by Aslan himself was strapped securely to it (in case the White Rabbit appeared).
"Ohhhh! You said 'who' and not 'what'! Not common for a Jade."
"Oi! Princess!" one of the dwarves shouted, "Bring 'er down an' aroun'! Blade wants two 'er us wachin' th' cargo! Need room! We'll walk th' lady."
"Aye, then Coalbeard! We'll walk the bitch."
"Oi! An' th' name's Jet!"
"Of course it is, Jesse." she said carelessly. Jet fumed, but didn't take it out on Scarlette. He actually bound her gently and took care when putting a bag over her head. He may have made some compromises in life, but he was always respectful of women.
"Can ye breathe, then luv? Right then, now stand. Steady then. Now, one a' us 'ill be a'walkin' behind and 'e's got these two ropes then. When he pulls, turn that direction. And stay quiet with yer' ears open fer th' guy up front a'pullin'. 'E'll tell ye t'mind the roots n' stones. Quiet as a mouse 'e'll say it. Stealth reasons."
Scarlette nodded, but she was very unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. Should they resist? This was the battle situation she'd been dragged along for, wasn't it? But she'd come to trust King Edmund explicitly, so she went along, keeping her ears open for further orders as well as warnings regarding terrain.
And many there were as they were soon going off-road; their cart tipping and pitching over twisted, mossy roots and stones. There were bags over all heads of the party except for Hahrin's, who was only given blinders. A dwarf rode on Starfall's back and poked her shoulders to guide her. Slick leaves lined the ground and they all had to mind their step to not slip, even the horse and centaur. It was slow going, with many rests. Three times Scarlette was used as a hostage as they untied Starfall for her help unsticking the cart.
"Nice n' easy then," Jet would say, "Jest 'nother one'a these snags 'n th' way. Nice n' easy. Lady Starfall won't do nuthin' stupid t' make yer kneck bleed."
Occasionally, they would hear Princess talking to Blade, the boar, about what she saw ahead from her flight above the trees. She spoke now of large billows of smoke coming from where a series of settlements belonging to talking animals had been clustered.
"They're venturing further, culling, raiding, using, probably for meat and hide as well as dark magic and sacrifice. Talking or no, this madman pays no mind!" said the Princess with considerable outrage. "They were good ones there in the Maidenberry cluster. I hope some escaped."
"I had a good friend there that I will seek once this is over. I'll need to know his state for my piece of mind, until then, halt!" said Blade. "We are near to the destination and thus can use less stealth. Speak freely."
"Can we be untied, please?" Scarlette asked.
"Not quite. For all we know, Narnia has sided with Axartha. Until we determine your allegiance, be patient." Blade responded.
"But, um-, " Scarlette stuttered. "I think my uh- period?"
"The period of time takes as long as it takes to get there. Be patient!"
"That's not what I'm trying to tell you." Scarlette said. She gave an exasperated sigh, and recalled something humiliatingly useful from her first day in Narnia: "I'm having my menses." she said with clenched teeth.
"That I can smell. You will wait until we arrive at our destination. Resting time is over. March." Blade ordered.
Finally they arrived at the encampment of the resistance. They were brought into a tent and made to get on their knees. After what felt like a long time, a small group entered. The bags were finally removed. There before them lay a Tiger. Behind him sat a Satyr wearing bone jewelry, Princess, and Blade.
"I am Fang. Premier general of the resistance." spoke the Tiger. "You are King Edmund, the Glasswater Jade, and two of the citadel guard. I was just outside to view your tribute. The armor and weapons are very well made and sorely needed, but what is in these sealed jars? Is it dangerous to open them?"
"Not at all, General." responded King Edmund. "They are full of a highly medicinal herb called Cannabis that hails from our world, grown from seeds brought by this Jade. They are three distinct breeds that are curing in those jars. It's referred to Marihuana when it's cured. It will be until the next new moon before it's ready for use. It can be smoked, tinctured, and infused into butter, and possibly other methods. There is much to be explored. The jars must be opened daily and placed in the darkness of their chest for ten minutes so to avoid any blight or decay."
"These jars are sealed."
"We reseal them every time."
"This explains the large amount of wax. We didn't understand at first. And the seeds are from these plants as well?"
"All gifts, General." King Edmund said diplomatically.
"And they were meant for us and not Axartha?"
"There is a scroll in my boot: a letter of certification of intent. It's written, signed, and sealed by High King Peter. As I have been bound this whole time, I cannot have forged it." he said. Soon his boots were off and a small scroll was being presented for Fang to read.
"Untie them." Fang ordered. "And bring the lady some rags."
They were all provided with basic victuals consisting of dried meat and fruit, biscuits, and some strong Archenland wine, undiluted. Scarlette was startled by the overwhelming taste and the burn. It was sweet and high proof like port but strong like the time she turned some grape juice concentrate and a few ice cubes into a slushie with the blender.
As they ate, Scarlette couldn't take her eyes off of Princess. Finally, Princess looked back at her pointedly, then she squatted down, curled over, put her cloak around her and her hood up. This way she looked almost like an old woman. She reminded Scarlette of the old ladies in "Spirited Away".
"Is this better, dearie?" she asked, again addressing Scarlette like a child. It actually was.
"You called me a bitch earlier. Why?" she asked.
"Oh no offence intended, child. That was just to get under Jet's skin." Princess said with a chuckle.
"Worry not, youngling. Tis her way of showing affection." remarked Blade. "Edmund, so good of you to come. The weapons and armor are sorely needed, but I do hope this plant you've brought with you is worth only having a few fardels."
"It is. I can attest to the effects from our own Queen Susan, who personally verified. Starfall has as well, if you'd like to question her." he said with a smirk. "I am glad they sent you, my friend. Anybody else and I might've feared you a contingent of Axarthians."
"And had I joined them?"
"Verily, we would be dead right now!" Edmund said with a booming laugh. "Tis a good thing that would never happen. You are Wildling till death!"
"True, true." said Blade.
Soon after they'd eaten and had a good buzz going, they got down to business. A low table that had been sitting to the side was brought over for use. A piece of parchment was presented and Princess, using a startlingly skilled hand, drew an accurate map of the region they were in.
"The enemy encampment is here." she said, pointing. "Last time I was flying for recognizance, I saw one of my sisters in the air ostensibly doing the same for their side. The twins joined up with him, the fools."
"Not a surprise, considering your parentage. High miracle you're here." jibed King Edmund.
"Watch your tongue, King!" Princess said, extending one long clawed finger. "I was born to Jadis whereas you chose her side. I also suffered far more at her hand than thee. Centuries, boy." She lowered her hand and Edmund backed down.
"Enough!" growled Fang. "I bid the continue." he said to Princess
"Axartha's mind is nearly gone, according to word the twins sent when they bid me to join them. He's a puppet of his sons'. A puppet ruler like our mad sister Jezmae. I waited for the little fool to land before verifying that they are preparing further aggressions."
"Hoofwind, you spoke earlier of a vision." Fang said.
"Axartha's army is indeed on the move. We are to watch for the Albatross and drive the enemy to the clearing He flies over. The Lion will lead us to victory. The cracks in the bones I cast in the sacred fire confirm this vision." said the Satyr wearing bone jewelry.
"Do we have a back-up strategy?" queried Starfall.
"We will do as the shaman says." Fang said with finality. King Edmund looked about to protest, but a look from Blade had him holding his tongue.
"For Aslan!" Hahrin whinnied.
"For Aslan!" everyone but Scarlette answered.
"So I saw Starfall came with King Edmund." said a Jade with doe ears to a Maeman (who had a Human father and Maena mother). "I heard last time she was here, Fang tried for her."
"I'm sorry. What did Fang do?"
"He tried to get some horse pussy."
"Some what?" the Maeman asked again. Just then, Fang and company emerged from the tent and a hush grew over the crowd.
"HORSE PUSSY!" the Jade shouted just a moment later. There was a collective gasp and a long, awkward silence.
"So I took a shot." Fang retorted. He turned his head to face the Centaur, "Starfall, I respect you as a warrior."
"Likewise." she responded, blushing.
"All listen well to our Shaman!" Fang shouted, then stepped aside for the Satyr to speak. A Satyr's voice is tenor-pitched and very expressive. Hoofwind spoke passionately.
"The Axarthians are agitating for attack! We will meet them for battle come morning. We will look to the Albatross and drive them to the clearing He flies above. We will drive them there until the Albatross cries! We will hold them there until the Albatross passes low over and cries again! Then we shall escape to the trees! When the Albatross cries a third time, we shall bow to the ground and leave they who remain standing to their fate! THIS day, we will drive them back! THIS day, they shall know the Wild! THIS DAY, we will spill their blood! Til it rains down from the sky!"
There was a great cheer. Fires were lit. Logs were being thrown in feats of strength. The wine flowed. Blue paste was being prepared in bowls and painted onto all fighters with exposed skin. Hoofwind approached Scarlette with a bowl in hand.
"It would be my honor to paint you." He said.
"It would?" she asked.
"It will help you fight." she looked at him then looked around to see so many others being painted, chanting. She turned back and nodded. He gestured for her to sit and disrobe from the waist up. She did so.
"It's woad." he explained. "It gives strength and alters the mind. Some effects of battle on the soul can be mitigated if you change the perception enough."
"Less fear?" Scarlette asked as he drew sacred spirals on her chest.
"Less fear, child."
Axartha sat on a throne of bone set upon a dais in a velvet tent in the woods. His 3 sons were with him, making a show of giving him counsel he couldn't follow. His mind was failing him. He often repeated himself just minutes after he'd spoken. He sometimes forgot who he was, or had trouble recognizing his sons. He professed to see things in the tent that weren't there. He was worshipped as a god nonetheless; his sons were in control.
The Axarthians were far fewer than the Wildlings, but far more organized than the anarchic WIldling hoards they had been facing up to this point. His eldest son held a scroll from the Tisroc of Calormen that expressed His full support of the formation of Axarthia and that he had always regarded Axartha as a brother.
"We need to do something. Kareem. Malel. I'd like you to send, born from our hand, to carry out in our father's name, they who shall go forth. The land, teeming with soldiers, shall come to him, to be manipulated. Can you feel it?"
"Spare us, Shanti." Kareem replied with distain. Shanti was the eldest, but Kareem was of the opinion that he was unworthy of his status. Regardless, he left to carry out what Shanti ordered. He was all for conquest, not fanfare. Malel, on the other hand, thrived on being worked by anyone higher than himself.
"I feel it brother. I will not fail you!" he said as he turned and billowed away, all cape.
Scarlette and Edmund stood side by side, swords drawn. They could hear the drums and war-cries of the Axarthians through the trees. Fang's contingent was comprised of a ragtag few on the ground with the bulk of them hidden in the brush and trees, giving the illusion that their forces were one fourth of their true quantity. Scarlette was topless with cloth bandages binding the places where armor was strapped to prevent chafing.
Because she'd been in the tent with the counsel, she encountered slim pickings amongst the armor stores. She had no chest plate. Her breasts were bare and covered in wode. Her shoulders were protected with leather armor and she had on some petite gauntlets and plated arm guards. She had on a dwarven-made mail-kilt, a skirt-like piece of chainmail meant to protect the hips like a good long shirt of mail should without the weight of a full shirt. It was adjustable and she had it riding lower on the hips than she should've, but only to keep it over her pants (again to prevent chafing). She was wearing heavy leg armor. She only had her sword as no shield was petite enough. She also had a dagger on her hip for close combat.
Scarlette thought back to her first lesson:
"Am I doing it right?" she had asked Edmund as she held her sword before her for the first time.
"I don't know, you tell me." he said as he stepped forward and easily moved her sword to the side with his body. "You cannot cut without pressure and you cannot apply pressure without power. Stiffen your arms."
She came back to the present. She could see the enemy now, like small toy soldiers in their glittering armor. They marched closer, the air shaking with their drums. The Wildlings held steady, awaiting the signal. The enemy marched closer and, seeing the Wildlings spaced apart among the trees, accelerated their march, believing they were being handed a sure victory.
"Steady." said Edmund. "Wait for the signal."
"Fuck." Scarlette cursed. She was getting nervous. Soon she could see the whites of their eyes. One of them was finally close enough to attack a Maenad who was a few yards in front of her and to her left.
What happened next requires some explaining. Kind Edmund had never participated in a Wildling war before. In the Wilds, the signal always comes from the ground, from the front, and from the center. That is the position they took, not knowing the responsibility with it. So when the Axarthians drew first blood against them by sinking a scimitar into the arm of a Maenad who was hiding behind her shield; and that Maenad looked at Scarlette with a mixture of fear, rage, and disgust; and Scarlette looked around to see nobody doing more than block, hide, or be beaten as they were all waiting for this signal, she did the only thing she could do.
"Fuck this!" she said as she swung her sword forward and, without even thinking, made her first kill. The resistance of a neckbone is always more than you'd expect your first time, but you can do lethal trauma without beheading, and that's what she did. And that was that. No fanfare, just more killing to do.
The moment her first kill fell is the precise moment that everything went South for the Axarthians. The Wildlings were dropping down on them from the trees and coming out at them from the brush and ground. They were inundated, saturated, and outnumbered. Only their superior armor, weapons, and training gave them any chance. Thus began the attrition phase of this conflict. The Axarthians fought brilliantly, but the Wildlings had the home-ground advantage as well as a common directive: push them East.
When you expect your opponent to try to kill you and they're really trying to position you where they want you to be, it is easier to make deadly errors than you'd think. Every step toward your doom feels like a victory. You think you're gaining ground. You think you're brilliantly evading. You think you're winning. It's like the insect who fights the web only to become more entangled. Soon the bulk of the army was well on it's way to the clearing as the last remaining warriors, who were too competent in their art to be moved, were ganged up on and slaughtered as loose ends.
The Calormene Empire prioritized quantity over quality for most of their military. They taught scores of men a just enough about combat to function while teaching a few elite warriors to master combat. These elite warriors were used much like the U.S.A uses their Navy Seals, while the rest of the soldiers were cannon fodder. And none of the elite warriors were there.
Scarlette was lost in the killing. The psychoactive effects of the woad, the sleep deprivation, and the fact she had twice the training of the average Calormene soldier had her dispatching them like they were ghosts and she was pac-man. Her interpretation of the directive had her cutting down any Axarthian that wasn't heading East. She kept her sword pointing in that direction, ever gaining ground.
It wasn't long until she was joining the scores of Wildlings keeping the growing herd of Axarthians in the clearing. There was a loud peal from above. Scarlette stole a quick glance upward, but was unable to look long enough to identify what she saw. To her it looked like a glowing aircraft. It was in fact the Albatross. She realized it was a bird when He swooped down for a low pass over the battle with another peal.
The wildlings surrounding the Axarthians all booked it for the trees. Scarlette and others who had penetrated the throng were fighting their way out as best they could. Scarlette was one of the last to escape the throng.
Just as she reached the treeline, there was the third peal. She hit the ground. She then both heard and felt the great many birds speed from the trees and up into a great black flock that swirled like dark smoke above the clearing, blocking the sun like a storm. The Albatross stood out white against them. Scarlette watched in astonishment as the visage of the Lion appeared in the flock just moments before the birds began to swirl, diving downward then swooping back up, then down again.
The plague of birds viciously pecked at the ties of the armor and exposed flesh of the enemy soldiers, ripping then bearing their piece of meat upward to drop onto the world. Armor was falling and more soft flesh was exposed. More soft flesh was dropped. A human eyeball landed next to Scarlette's foot. Soon it was raining blood and gore.
The screams of the Axarthians blended with the thundering of the wings until they faded into nothing. It was over and the feathery cyclone dispersed. The peaceful birdsong that resumed and the sunlight that shone down on the ravaged dead of the battlefield seemed vulgar. Victory was sudden and absolute. The Wildlings all looked at each other as if just waking. Scarlette stood and walked back toward camp, resting her befouled sword on her shoulder like a baseball bat.
Scarlette was laying under a tree, half asleep with her pack under her head like a pillow ("super-special-awesome" sword-side down), when King Edmund kicked her foot.
"Oi, Scarlette. Get up."
"Uh-huh? Fffffffuuuuck." she responded, rubbing her face. She was coming down from the woad and was dead tired, not ready to face the ultraviolence she'd just participated in. All she wanted was sleep but, like a warrior, she stood. "What's up?" she asked.
"Follow me, and bring your sword. And do clean it! At least you didn't try to sheath it like that. Good grief!" he teased. Scarlette blushed, embarrassed. She wiped her sword down with one of her unused menstrual rags and a little spit.
They walked until the encountered a dead Axarthian soldier at the base of a tree, a look of pain and horror stiffened into his eyes. His armor was crooked on his torso.
"Divest this man from the waist up." King Edmund ordered. Scarlette did so. She looked with horror to see the man's torso blackened and bulging grotesquely. "This man was killed by a Minotaur using a club. I want you to take the tip of your sword and open his belly diagonally, from the ribcage to the opposite hip."
Scarlette inwardly balked at the order at first. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the woad or perhaps it was her trust in Edmund, but she complied. His innards spilled out. She saw that how he looked on the outside was nothing compared to the devastation within. There were visible ruptures to the walls of his organs. His bodily fluids had mixed and settled inside his torso and now spilled out onto the ground. The smell was unforgettable.
"What the fu-BLAAARGH!" she puked on the ground.
"The sword is a severe instrument of battle." Edmund began, "It's wielder bears witness to every bit of damage done. Those of tender temperament may be tempted to merely beat someone with the scabbard, or forgo the sword altogether and use a club as our Minotaur has. When we make the choice to keep the damage in this world hidden for our peace of mind, we run the risk of that damage becoming ever more horrifying. Remember: the sword is brutal, but truthful, and thus it is kinder."
Scarlette washed her mouth out with a sip of rakia as she contemplated this. Suddenly there was a pink streak in her peripheral vision. She quickly turned to see a blood-splattered albino bunny of the talking variety sprinting through the trees: the first sign. She looked back at Edmund and almost spoke before she remembered the first instruction: speak to no one until she finds the man with the mohawk. She smiled at Edmund with tears in her eyes and gave him a brotherly hug. The last he ever saw of Scarlette was when she was bounding through the trees after the White Rabbit.