Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own it.
Summary: See previous Chapters.


Chapter Eight

A new day has dawned, and I have sent my dwarf ahead to Aslan's camp, bearing a message. I wish to speak with the Lion, but I am not so foolish as to go without promise of safe-conduct.

Knowing what I do of him, I expect him to agree, but to lay restrictions, probably the insistence that I leave my wand where it can do no damage.

My dwarf returns, along with one of Aslan's heralds. Aslan has agreed, on the condition that I leave my wand behind at the white rock at the edge of his camp.

Good.

We arrive at the camp and I behold the scene before me. Dryads, beasts, fauns and others gather here under bright banners. But my attention is captured by the scene before me. Aslan. The lion fills my entire vision as I raise my wand, wanting nothing more than to strike him down.

Then my vision widens, and I only just manage to place my wand on the rock before I drop it.

I look upon the four children.
Peter, who killed Maugrim. A boy who is forced to become a man, woefully un-prepared for his duty.
A girl that I assume to be Susan. By all appearances, she is a brainless beauty, the required 'Daughter of Eve. Whether she lives or not, she will never be of true importance.
The traitor, Edmund. He is repentant of his sins, but knows that they will never be erased. His family has forgiven him, but he has yet to forgive himself.
Last of all, Lucy, the youngest, who found Narnia first. It is clear, also, that she loves Aslan, young enough to have unshakable faith, even is she doesn't fully understand.
I look upon Lucy, judging her worth, and my heart stops, an icy dagger plunging deep into my soul.

Make her a few inches taller, her dark blonde hair a few shades lighter, and falling to her waist. Take away the last remains of baby fat, the peculiar clothing. Dress her in the flowing gown and mantle of Charn nobility and twine flowers and leaves in her hair. I make these changes in my mind's eye, and the knife digs deeper.

Lucy could have been my Sorcha when she was that age.


I pull myself together and begin to move forward, halting as I hear the winged beasts snarling, screeching and flapping their wings.

I force myself onward. I have safe conduct and no reason or need to fear them.

I walk up to Aslan with a purposeful, business-like stride. I pause before him a moment, pouring all of my hatred and grief into a single glare at the Lion. "Aslan, you have a traitor there."

I see that the children and those surrounding them all flinch back in fear. They know it is true, but do not wish to lose the boy. Sorcha would frown in disapproval, but I feel a momentary flash of satisfaction at their reaction to my words.

Aslan, however, remains calm. "His offense was not against you."

My Sorcha committed no offense whatsoever, save that she was too loved, and a threat to my sister's power! You did not even enter the equation, and are relatively blameless, yet it was in Your name that my Sorcha was killed!

I regain control of myself with an effort. "Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?"

Please say yes, that I may say that I can kill one who harbors the traitor, rather than the traitor himself. The rest of Narnia can go to Hell or soar to Heaven, for all that I am concerned.

"Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time?" Aslan's eyes, fathomless and hypnotic, never leave mine.

Damn! He has not forgotten. I see the mockery in his eyes as I continue. "You know what is written there!" I point to the Stone Table. "On that very table of stone. You know that every traitor belongs to me, as my lawful prey, and that for every treachery, I have the right to kill!"

Again, my Sorcha would have frowned, but I find myself enjoying the looks of dawning horror on the faces around me. "You know, Aslan, that that human creature is mine! His life is my property! His blood is forfeit to me."

One of the nearby fauns bursts out, "Come and take it then!"

Ah, the folly of youth. I laugh at him. "Fool! Do you think your master can rob me of my rights, by mere force? He knows the Deep Magic better than that! He knows that unless I have blood, as the law states, the whole of Narnia will be overturned and will perish in fire and water!"

Alright, I may have been a bit dramatic in the execution of this little speech, but it is true.

Throughout this, Aslan has remained as emotionless as a rock, something that is starting to annoy me more and more by the minute. Now he speaks. "It is true. I will not deny it."

Lucy speaks, and the knife twists. "Oh, Aslan, can't you do something?"

I cannot fault her loyalty to her brother, however misplaced, but I wonder at the girl's intellect. No, Aslan could not do anything against the Deep Magic, and even if he were able, I doubt that he would. Lucy is fortunate, still so innocent in the ways of the world. She does not realize that she, along with her siblings and the rest of Narnia, are but pawns to him.

Aslan only looks at her. "Work against the Deep Magic? Wait here, all of you. I will talk to the witch alone.


We go apart. Behind us, I see Lucy crying for both Aslan and her brother. I see the fearful expressions on the faces of Aslan's people.

Aslan speaks first. "You have never held to that part of the Deep Magic, Queen of Charn. Why will you do so now?"

I have never held to it before because of the sole reason that my Sorcha had met her husband by someone showing mercy in a situation when they had the right to kill. I stare into the distance, knowing that Aslan can exploit any weakness that I show. "Indirectly, it will harm you. Also, while I believe otherwise, people say that you mourn all those who die, whether loyal to you or no."

The lion seems to sigh. "Is your hatred of me so great, Jadis? You would see the suffering of innocents, make use of the Deplorable Word?"

I counter his question with one of my own. "Do you remember a young woman of my world, Aslan? Kind and gentle, but executed in your name. That is why I hate thee, Aslan! Charn was already dead! Its people were dead, and its sun ready to die. I hastened the inevitable by a matter of weeks, and that is all. However, that has nothing to do with our topic of discussion."

Aslan sighs again. "I remember the girl. Had she lived, the history of Narnia would have been forever changed, a risk that I could not take. She burned brighter than the stars, and I would never have wished her death. But it was necessary, as much as I regret the loss of her life."

Necessary! I have no room to talk without being a hypocrite, but that does not stem my fury.
Rage, pure and undiluted, sears through me. Charn was destroyed before Narnia ever came into being! Aslan intruded upon my world, orchestrated the death of my child, all because he was worried about the fate of his world being changed? If trouble comes, one should deal with it, not go and kill an innocent woman to be killed on a maybe! All right, I have done so enough times to see the advantages, but there are more peaceful ways that would have been in better keeping with Aslan's character!
I cannot believe this. How does he know that the change would be anything worse than an ice age for a year or two? Aslan and his father are supposed to be infallible. How could they have missed what the advisor would do? How could they have allowed such a horrible mistake to be committed?

My irrational rage flares again, and I barely restrain myself from killing him with my bare hands. I open my mouth to deliver a scathing retort when Aslan speaks again. Had I been paying more attention, I would have realized that there was a plan behind his words. "I offer an exchange: My life for the Son of Adam's. And I offer my sympathy if the girl was close to you."

My eyes blaze as I turn on him, my teeth bared in a snarl. "I spurn thy condensing sympathy! How couldst thou comprehend the will to follow her that plagued Charn? Yet I will accept the exchange that thou dost propose. Tonight, at the Stone Table, where such things have always been done."

Ach. I am slipping into the high tongue. That is never good. Oh, well, it matters not.At last, Aslan's blood will stain the ground of Narnia, even as the advisor's blood, even as my Sorcha's blood, stained that of Charn.


We return. I notice that Aslan offers no specific detail on what we had agreed, saying only that I had renounced my claim on Edmund's blood.

It is at times like this that I regret that so much of history is written by men, or by the victors. They record only details that reflect well upon themselves. My own ancestoress, Lilith, was banished from Eden for refusing to submit to her husband, but it is recorded that she was cast away for disobedience. Aslan gives the impression that he has talked me out of the desire for blood. But how do I know that he will hold up his end of the bargain? I ask him. "But how do I know that this promise will be kept?"

He roars, and I hear the words beneath the thunderous sound. 'You wish the girl avenged. My life for the boy's. I will keep my word'

A series of images flash through my mind, images that I have tried for so long to bury.

The calm acceptance on my Sorcha's face as she looks at the executioner.

The look of regret on the executioner's face as he meets her eyes, the shame in his own, accompanied by the desire that it was someone, anyone, else who must perform the deed.

The sheer, unconditional love and wish to be remembered by the joyous times shared as she looks at Brand and I.

Sorcha's clear, untaught voice raised in song for the last time as she sings her death-chant, about the love she bore for all of Charn, both the people and the land itself, and the desire that they find the joy in life that she had always reveled in.

I stumble back in horror, then turn and flee.

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A/N – Only one more chapter to go, which should be up in the near future.

Thanks everyone, and don't forget to review.

Nathalia.