10. – Plague by Mice Delivered

Rikeety's men brought in a family of mice early that morning, carrying them on litters covered in white linen. Lucy had ordered them all shrouded in boiled and smoked cloth, in an attempt to keep the illness contained and stop its contamination. She still did not know if it had been airborne, or administered through direct contact.

"Rimity's family," Rikeety had said, his whiskers quivering, as the sick mice were unwrapped and helped into beds- They all looked as bad as any of the plague's victims, pale and quivering, boils spreading on their paws. "I brought her body to them for burial. It's my fault they're sick."

Lucy laid a hand against his shoulder in quiet comfort, but the proud mouse simply nodded at her, and stepped away.

At this point, nobody questioned that Rapachap and Rimity had been used by the White Witch to spread this disease among them. On the stretch between where Rapachap's body had been found, and the Castle of the Telmarin Kings, copious amounts of infected had been found.

"Rikeety," Lucy said softly, her hand tinkling with the warmth of his fur. "May I see your paws?"

Rikeety looked at her, his face stony and his eyes glazed.

"Of course, your Majesty," he said, but the courteous grant sounded hollow. He held out his soft pink palms, and she breathed out in sudden sadness.

"Oh Rikeety," she whispered. "Why didn't you say?"

He shrugged, hiding away his paws by folding them behind his back.

"The fever's not so bad, your Majesty," he said. "And the boils only began showing on the way back here, so frankly I didn't know."

.o.O.o.

Five people had gathered in the council room by noon. Caspian had managed to persuade Lucy to take a few minutes away from the sick, and eat lunch with him, Trumpkin, Drinian and Frostmane, while discussing where to go from the current situation.

"Still no news from Cair Paravel?" Lucy asked.

Caspian shook his head.

"None of the messenger hawks have returned- I'll have to send a messenger on foot, rather than wing, but I find myself reluctant to do so, with the sickness. It might spread to Cair Paravel if we give it the opportunity."

"I don't like it," Lucy said, frowning deeply. "I don't like that there's been no contact."

"About that-" Trumpkin said from his chair. "I have a suggestion."

They turned to him, Caspian raising an eyebrow, and Lucy smiling hopefully.

"Have you noticed something about the victim's you've been treating since you got here?" Trumpkin asked.

Lucy frowned, thinking back on the Narnians she had been treating, and going over them in her head. There had been both those who had been wounded in the war, and those who were ill, and as she recalled names and faces, her eyes widened, and a grin spread on her face.

"None who was badly wounded in the battle and were treated with the silver cordial have come down with the plague!" she almost jumped, turning to Caspian. "I know who we can send to Cair Paravel. The fastest runner in all of Narnia!"

Caspian blinked, surprised by her sudden excitement.

"Who?" he asked, a bit flabbergasted.

Lucy smiled joyously, as her blue eyes sparkled.

.o.O.o.

Goldspear's hooves pounded against the hard earth, his neck stretched forward, as he all but flew over the ground towards Cair Paravel. His flanks were heaving, his nostrils flaring, but there was an undeniable grace and dignity in the way his body moved, faster than any horse could have run. He was determined to make it to the castle before day was out, though he knew for most it would be impossible to cross the distance in such a short time.

Queen Lucy had asked him to make haste, so how could he do anything but the impossible for her?

He must not disappoint her. Never.

Sparks jumped when his feet found the cobblestones, and the castle walls came into sight up ahead. His heart clenched when he saw the black cloths hanging from the walls' windows.

The plague had taken Cair Paravel.

.o.O.o.

Aleety, the youngest of Reepicheep's nieces, was just a kit. Her fur was the colour of honey, and she stuck out her little pink tongue whenever somebody walked past her with anything sweet smelling. The boils on her paws were smaller than most, and she whimpered from the fever, and cried for her big sister Rimity, whom she whispered would always come hold her when she was sick.

Lucy held her instead, curling her arms around the tiny critter, and murmured soothingly- Aleety's mother was too sick to do it herself. When Aleety finally fell asleep, Lucy tugged her into bed and rose to check on the mother.

She smiled at Lucy.

"Thank you," she croaked in a whisper. "For all you're doing."

Lucy gave her fingers a soft squeeze, so as not to upset the boils.

"I'll get you some water," she told the sick mouse, rose and looked around. There was a pitcher on a small table a few cots over, but when she went to it, she found it empty. Sighing, she grabbed a clean glass from a cupboard, and left the sick bay. She fetched water from the pail left in her own room, and hurried back towards the infirmary.

Before she reached it, Lucy's hand twitched painfully and the glass fell from it, shattering on the floor. A whimper of pain escaped her and got lost in the surrounding noise, as shards cut her ankles, Another exclamation of pain broke free as both her hands started cramping and she shook, falling back against the wall, and sitting down.

Lucy stared in horror at her fingers, where the blackening had spread to reach her palms, spreading like cracks over her skin.

People shouted as her legs folded beneath her and a scream escaped her lips. She was burning, burning on the inside, her body cramping as if electrocuted. Lightning, lightning was striking, and in a flash she recalled the old apple tree back in England and the rancid taste of burnt flesh in her mouth. Gasping for air, the room seemed to shrink around her, and then- Her heart beat hard. One- Two- Three-

And she could breathe again.

Tears burst out on her cheeks, as she frantically pulled air back into her lungs.

"Your Majesty! What is happening?"

"Make room-"

Somebody lifted her up into her arms, and she vaguely recognized him as Captain Drinian, when he deposited her gently on an empty cot. She shook all over, as her body rebelled against whatever had just happened. Drinian turned her head to face him, seeking eye contact.

"Your Majesty- Lucy- do you know what is happening to you?" he asked. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Her hands are burned!"

Lucy tried to open her mouth to speak, but found that she shook too much, and could not find any words. Her eyes flickered out over the room in panic and she caught hold of Drinian's shirt, squeezing the fabric so her knuckles turned white, despite her aching fingers. What was happening? Why could she not stop shaking-

"Lucy!" Caspian called as he entered the castle infirmary, hot on the heels of the little sylphide who had hurried through walls and air to fetch him when Lucy collapsed. "What is going on?"

"It- it hurts-" Lucy managed to get out. Then, as her eyes rolled back into her head and darkness took her, the last that passed her lips where Aslan's name.

.o.O.o.

The sound of Goldspear's hooves echoed through a much too quiet town. The port should have been a bustle of trading and noise. People should have been going about their day, kids should have been playing, but only the far off seagulls could be heard. Those, and a wailing child somewhere.

The intense need to flee rose up through Goldspear's throat, but he bit down and continued into the town, up towards the castle.

He trotted through the open castle gates, glancing at the black banners with sick trepidation filling his stomach. Inside he shied away and almost fled. Corpses were laid out in neat rows, covered in cloth to keep away insects. Fresh corpses, as they had yet to smell rotten.

Shivering, he continued his explorations, heading towards the open doors into the storage rooms. He could hear something moving around in there, and it filled him with hope. Perhaps there was somebody there who could tell him what was going on-

The entirety of the wheat piles were covered in a living blanket of black rats, eating away without a care of Narnia's best bet for making it through the winter.

Tens and twenties of the rats ran from the corn storage as Goldspear whinnied angrily and stomped at them, but as soon as he turned towards the others, they surged back to continue eating. Already the unicorn could see that they were engorged and some of them simply laid sleeping, fat and exhausted by eating and digesting. The room was rank with the scent of their excrement.

The sound of voices made him trot outside. Somebody was alive!

Four people came down the stairs and into the castle yard, a litter between them, with a corpse covered in white linen. Three of them were strong looking men, although dirty and tired, and the last was a woman.

The woman led the other three carrying the litter, placing the dead body next to the others, and wiping her forehead tiredly. Her cheeks were hollowing and her eyes sad. Two of her helpers had boils beneath their chin and on the inside of their wrists. They looked at Goldspear with no fear, just tiredness.

"Who are you?" the woman asked hoarsely. Her dress must have been fine once, but now it looked worn and dirty. "Did the King send you?"

"My name is Goldspear- I was sent by King Caspian the Tenth, and Queen Lucy the Brave, since there had been no contact with the castle. I am to speak with Lady Isia Goldstream," the unicorn told her. Giving her a look over, he continued. "Am I to assume that I've found the right person?"

Lady Goldstream nodded, dragging her fingers through hair that looked to be golden under the sweat and dust.

"You have, but I fear I cannot allow you to return to Caspian with missive," she said, voice firm. "I've quarantined the entire town and castle, no one leaves, and no one comes in. I'm guessing word of the black banners will reach the King any time now, so he knows that we've been struck by some kind of plague-"

Goldspear nodded.

"It's taken to part of his army and the Castle of the Telmarin Kings as well, though there's only been a single fatality so far," he told her. "It's the workings of the White Witch. Is the entire town struck down by the illness?"

"No. Those who are well stay inside not to be infected, and those who have family members, they to tend to them. Each house is a quarantined zone of its own- We can't keep it up much longer though, or people will starve. I've had healthy people out, covered in smoked linen and freshly bathed, delivering food, but we're running out of delivery people, and without the market and food from outside of town-"

"The wheat-" Goldpear swung his head towards the storages and the rats.

"I know," Isia said, tears in her voice, though she held them back. "They came the day before yesterday, and we tried to chase them off and save the wheat, but- It's like they were possessed by something, and with people dropping sick all over, we just couldn't-" Half a desperate sob escaped her, and she hugged herself, before drawing a deep breath and steeling herself. "I had to make a choice between caring for the sick, and attempting to save the wheat stores."

"The Queen would never blame you-" Goldspear started, ever the loyal servant of the woman who had saved his life, but he was interrupted by Isia before he could finish his sentence.

"You said that before as well! Am I to deduct that Queen Lucy has returned once more?" she asked. "Is that why you've only had a single fatality, when we've had several, today alone?"

Goldspear nodded fiercely.

"Yes, the Queen has returned once more to Narnia, and she is caring for the sick at the Castle of Telmar. She is the reason I was sent here. I've been treated by her healing hands, and they believe that that gives me a certain imunity-"

"You have to bring her here!" Lady Goldstream said, gripping his muzzle tightly with both hands. "You have to get her here, to save Cair Paravel!"

.o.O.o.

Lucy was surrounded by black. Cold, empty, blackness. She stood alone, forcing her back tall, glaring furiously though there was nothing to be seen. Every instinct in her body screamed that something was nearing, something terrible. Something she would have to fight.

The hairs on her arms stood straight up.

Something crawled up her spine.

A breath pressed against the back of her neck.

Turning, Lucy faced the Hag behind her, hands closed into fists and blue eyes flaring with rage as she recognized her foe.

"Plague."

The old woman cackled, curled in on herself as she was, reaching out with her greedy pale fingers and taking hold of Lucy's dress. Almost lover like, she laid her arms around Lucy drawing their faces near. Her breath was rotten and sweet at the same time, her black eyes sparkling.

"So brave, so young. I thought you would have forgotten me, little healer," she crowed.

Lucy stiffened at her touch, forcing herself not to shy away, not to show fear in front of this crippled and terrible creature.

"I would not forget," Lucy bit out. "Not you, or any of Jadis servants. Not any of my enemies."

"Enemies?" Plague whispered lovingly, laying wrinkled fingers against Lucy's cheeks. "Oh we are not. I am in your home, all among you. I am in your friends, I make them need you. Without me, you would not be who you are- you would be useless without wounds or ill to battle. Just a tiny girl, no help to anyone."

"Get your hands off of me." Lucy's skin was itching all over as she fought not to pull away. Not to let her revulsion show, feeling like that would be her loss if she did. "You won't infect me, even as you try. I'm not yours to control."

"Infect you?" the Hag laughed. "Why? Why should I? There would be no point-" She reached down and took Lucy's hands instead, lifting them up between them so that Lucy could see how they had blackened further. How they had begun to cripple, as if the bones themselves were slowly burning. "Not when you're already being eaten from inside."

Lucy broke her hold, pushing the old lady away, and stepping back herself. She shook all over as she curled in over her hands, hiding them away. She bit her cheek, trying to hold back from vomiting as terror knotted up her stomach.

Plague continued laughing.

"When you're gone, I'll have them all. Fight as you may, the dead cannot heal."

.o.O.o.