Disclaimer: First of, some of you will have noticed I'm using some of Elecktrum's characters and have used them for other stories. I asked her a great, long while ago for permission and was granted it (you have my never-ending thanks for that). But I'm also taking liberties. For instance, I'm not playing within her canon, but kidnapping characters from it and stuffing them into my own sandbox (…which sounds way naughtier than it did in my head). In this instance, you may have already recognized Celer, Faun captain and sword's master. Honorable mentions of Kanell might occur as we progress. You may as well recognize Dame Utha, Galmian navigator, and indirectly, Ricanus, a Tiger of the Palace Guard. All wonderful characters from Elecktrum's universe. I'll try and keep track should others appear, but as a general rule anyone you recognize belongs to someone else – I am mostly borrowing here. Except for the times where I flagrantly abuse the site and stuff OC's into my stories ;). Second, Oreius belongs to Anderson.

A/N: That said, I feel like now is the perfect time in our story for a break in the shade with a cool glass of water? No?

Chapter 11: The Bight of Calormen

The mighty Ouranios was, as noted in the beginning of this tale, a mighty vessel of transport. One which kept the lives of many different Animals and Creatures within her womb, including two yellow lovebirds. One, quite ordinary and one a Bird of Narnia.

There were many such Birds in Narnia, but this lovely gentleman, bore the name of Twittlebeak and looked so much like his dumber cousins that he had been chosen to carry messages for both queens on prior occasions. He had been given a cage which he currently shared with one of said dumb cousins; the cage which served as his office on long journeys, had only a tiny door for a Bird such as he to easily open and close. Twittlebeak had once the honor of joining the Queen Susan on an outing to Calormen under the guise he now used as well. He had once been given to Tarkheena Jaerza, granddaughter to Mireya, mother of Shehyzan – The Mighty Tiscroc of Calormen, to spy on the young lady because of her magnificent garden parties. Oh and the things Twittlebeak heard in his time as spy, until one day during his missions, time and time again, he would open the latch to his cage and take flight into the air.

Narnia was part of him, this noble, little Bird. This spring-yellow Lovebird. No matter where he was Narnia would draw him home like a bowstring sent an arrow flying.

And so, with his beak on this day, he opened the latch on his cage and spent a moment watching one of the Captain's men upon his return to the mighty Ouranios. He felt instantly the urge to fly, for Twittlebeak was a perceptive Bird, who knew instantly that something, somehow, had gone terribly wrong. On this trip it fell on Twittlebeak's almost non-existent shoulders to alert the two eldest royals of Narnia upon any unintended occurrences revolving the two youngest royals. The faun soldier Titus had relayed his command through the Narnian cousin and thus the kindly, yellow Bird took flight deep into the azure sky on a straight heading towards the heavy, setting sun.

As the sky burned slowly from ochre, to gold, to orange flame, and to red embers Twittlebeak soared on swift updrafts until he saw, from his impressive periphery, an Albatross high above him. Soaring so close to the dark-blue dome near the stars that it nearly looked as though it would drift away into the universe.

With the slightest adjustment the mighty Albatross dove level to his fellow and nodded politely in greeting, asking companionably where the little lord was heading in such a rush. Twittlebeak answered, shouting to be heard over the wind, for his lungs were small compared to those of the Albatross, that he was heading home because an accident had befallen the youngest king and queen on the isle of Terebinthia.

This unnerved the Albatross so greatly that he without hesitation offered his assistance to the young fellow. For the remainder of their journey Twittlebeak dove under the traveler's massive wings and soared in the currents of their wake. He would swear until his dying day that no living thing except for the Great Lion Himself could have flown faster than those two, on that night.

The news went over as well as could have been expected. The queen paled and the high king stilled in preparation for something Twittlebeak had no comprehension of. "Where are they now?" Peter the Magnificent asked.

The Bird glanced at the unnerved general, Commander Oreius Cassioson, before he answered: "Titus informed me, Sire. Said the King and Queen were stuck under the mountain, Sire," The queen made a despondent little sound that Twittlebeak instantly feared she might cry and subsequently almost felt like crying himself.

"Nothing else?"

The king looked sad as well and Twittlebeak became doubly heartbroken. He had no recourse in such matters. He was but a lowly messenger and not a soldier or king or queen in charge of making decisions. He was but a Bird.

A little, yellow thing, but perched as he was, in the direct eye line of the Mightiest King of Kings, he felt himself rise and grow into a giant. "Master, Twittlebeak. Will you carry a message for me back to the isle from whence you just came?"

Twittlebeak nodded in the affirmative. He felt he could. He felt, not tired from his long flight, but rather invigorated and prepared for more. If even he could find his most recent wide, winged friend he would be all the more merry to accept. "Most certainly, Your Majesty."

"What is it?" Baskar snapped as Hellon tapped lightly on the doorframe of his study. "Enter, for Aslan's sake!"

"Sire, a dockworker requested an audience regarding the Ouranios."

The king tore his attention away from a map of the Blue Mine, marking the diggers' progress, and looked to Hellon with unerring focus. "What news?"

"A strange happenstance occurred this morn, as the dockworker recalls it. He witnessed a bird take flight from the deck of the ship, Sire."

"What?" The king frowned in burgeoning anger over the interruption.

"Sire, the dockworker claims the bird is of Narnian descent. A Talking Bird, Your Majesty."

"And what is his reasoning for making such a claim?"

Hellon cleared his throat and glanced away, clearly uncomfortable. "He claims he has seen this custom enacted on previous occasions. There was an incident in the port of Tashbaan two years prior where a Galmian ship made port for three days."

"And then," he prompted, impatient with the man's theatricalities.

"An incident in the lower towns caused five Birds of Narnia to take flight. A week later there were rumors of an attack on royalty, though no aggressors were ever tried."

"Which royalty?" The king found himself riveted, despite his better judgement. Fear beginning to blossom in the pit of his stomach.

"I know not, Sire."

"And what, pray tell, does the bird symbolize?"

"A bad omen, Sire."

He scoffed and looked out his window. "Spare me, wretch. Speak plainly!"

"The Birds have been re-inducted into the Royal Narnian Guard to carry missives and to act as spies, My Lord."

His words, heavy in meaning, were only outmatched by his despondent tone. "You fear the bird flew to Narnia with news of the mine?" The king swallowed and let a hand hover over the map.

"No, Sire," Hellon looked regretful at whatever loomed in his mind. "I fear the Bird flew to Narnia to call the Magnificent to war."

The king's breath left him in a great rush as he took in the words. He placed his quivering hand on the map and played with one of the markers for their progress. "Hellon,"

The servant looked up from his study of the floor. "Sire?"

"Where is my son?"

Hilio watched the proceedings with, what had long transformed from frustration into bleak despondence. He was perched on a mound of gravel, facing the mine. Half-eaten bread in his hands and an untouched decanter of wine at his feet.

"Sire?"

He looked up at the call. His father had sent a small group of men from the Storm. They lingered nervously on the fringes of the dig site after Hilio had explained to them, in no uncertain terms, that they were either to help or stay out of everyone's way. He had participated until he nearly dropped a rock on his own foot, spurring a jolt of anxiety over the prospect of losing yet another heir to the throne. The replacement master miner had ordered the prince on break and the young man had reluctantly capitulated.

As it were, the Narnian guard had refused any and all attempts to be relocated. They lingered stubbornly, insisting on helping with the excavation. "What is it, Captain Celer?" He stood up to meet the Narnian soldier.

"Any word from your King, Sire?"

Hilio sighed and shook his head. "The guard brought no word when they arrived," He looked towards the Terebinthian soldiers and felt a fleeting stab of disgust.

The faun captain's shrewd eyes followed the young prince's focus. "They've dug almost twenty feet into the mine with no secondary collapses as of yet."

"May the Witch's children have a Witch's luck, eh?"

Celer allowed for a small smile. "Indeed."

"How long did it take the Dwarves at the Narnian collapse?" The dark-haired prince was covered in a fine layer of filth that accented the blue smudges under his eyes.

"Nearly three turns of the full moon, Your Majesty," Celer had kept a watchful eye on the young human since the prince had announced his intention to sleep in the shantytown near the mine, feeling more than a little protective of the young human. He was self-aware enough to admit a strange likeness between the foreign prince and his own kings. He had taken to telling the prince stories of his ancestral home and what it was reshaping into after a hundred years of tyranny.

Hilio nodded with his somewhat vacant glare on the insolent mine entrance. "Did they all survive?" It remained obstinately difficult to enter, seemingly no matter how many stones were removed.

Much like that of the young prince, Celer's heart was heavy these days. A heaviness that would not be shaken, but nor shared as though mere words were sufficient. "No, Sire," Thus he knew no words were needed and felt perhaps this was why he felt a kinship with the boy. The prince understood with startling clarity his sense of loss. His worry and his fear. "Not all of them," He returned his gaze to the mine and waited another minute before he rose.

The prince rose with him in unspoken agreement and together they rejoined the men who worked ceaselessly to clear a path. Celer knew they might continue to do so until they found who they were looking for. He only hoped he would find them unscathed and whole, as they were when he last saw them.

"Thank you, Captain," Susan with longing eyes on the eastern horizon as the captain of the Dæios handed her a warm mug. The Galmian emissary ship carved through the waves like she was made to do, with barely a swell to show for it. The sun was setting against Susan's back and the faintest of stars began to twinkle just above the blue, eastern curve where ocean met sky. The ship was heading south east, from Galma's southernmost port.

In the vessels still anchored in Dawn were hundreds of Galmian envoys and soldiers, mixed with Narnian warriors of all size, color, and creed. In one of them was her brother, awaiting the message by Dove Susan sent to him.

"Dear, Brother," it said.

"I will precede your arrival by two days and they shan't be expecting a Queen. No matter their explanation I will find a way to inform you of the particulars.

Tell Dame Utha, 'raichi'."

She would await reply, if one ever came. Her brother had been in an unpredictable mood which was one of her reasons for so flagrantly disregarding his orders. Despite years of royal training her impulse would always be sororal as opposed to submissive. He would yell her ear off she was sure, his fear thrumming through him and causing an almost violent tension. Fortunately, she thought to herself with a smile, she was not alone.

From the space next to her Dahlia looked up through placid, diamond-eyes and offered a feline smirk. The Panther had refused to leave her Queen's side though Susan had initially insisted. Instead, summoning Costar in support of her argument, which had backfired horribly. The two Great Cats had convinced their Queen of the necessity of a guard, even when visiting allies. Especially when visiting allies, Dahlia had amended, against your brother's explicit command.

Susan was glad of the company now, as she watched the Dæios eat away the distance between herself and her siblings.

The parchment that contained a newly amended edition of Narnian legislation was twisted in between two anxious hands. The world had fallen away around the king in the days since his sons' disappearance and it was beginning to show. His wife had summoned him a few times. Tried. Hellon had ventured in to disturb him once or twice, but fled not to be seen after Baskar threw a pitcher at him.

Poor man, the king thought distantly.

Poor kingdom to be encumbered by an addled, old man for a ruler. To lose the only ones that could succeed him. The king – his kingdom – had seen far too much of the Winter War. Far more than was recorded in history books. Far more than the king could ever speak of. Galma had been sieged by ice planes, stiffening their oceans. Marooning them on a cold and barren island for almost a century. For them the first spring had been a blessing.

For Terebinthia the War had been such, only disguised. For eons the old bloodline had ruled the island with impunity. Stemming from Narnian mainland and received by an ailing nation the Terebinthian bloodline had mounted a throne swiftly.

But the Ice had brought so much death. An uprising had been swift, following in the wake of an even swifter panic. Bloodlines had been severed down to the very smallest babe. Old families became new ones under false banners without distress or delay. No other nations knew, none had noticed. Galma, Bastian thought, suspected. But differences in temperament were apparent even before the War. Galmians were legends of folk-songs. Men of myth, so closely linked to Narnian royalty or Archenland dukedom that they carried an aura about them. One of wisdom or power, Baskar was not sure. All Narnian royalty styled themselves in attributes visible only to a few.

Perhaps it was God. Aslan had risen to reclaim the throne with the children. For the children. In his wisdom he had placed them above all else and now a nation – many – followed his wise lead. Perhaps it was atonement. A slow death as antithesis to the swift one met by their previous monarchs.

But the turpentine trees had always grown wildly on Baskar's rock. His throne had never been dwarfed by another's, until now it would appear. Those children had brought the aura with them. The praying houses had been filled since their arrival, now transformed into shelters with ailing mothers weeping for Baskar's lost sons and Narnia's lost sovereigns.

A shout down the hallway caught his attention.

The door had been closed for two days. Baskar had fared longer without food, but felt the loss of youth keenly through his fast.

What would the Narnians say?

A timid knock awoke him from his half-slumber. Before he could answer a head peeked inside. That of his youngest son. "Father," he whispered. "You summoned me."

Baskar stared at his son's visage in awe. The boy seemed to have aged in a matter of days. As though weighted down. Covered in filth and despair. Becoming wiry and hard to look at. "Boy?" he whispered back. His voice having waned from misuse.

He entered fully. Alone. Hellon, that wretch is so scared of facing his king that he allows the boy to enter alone. Baskar sneered and watched Hilio retreat cautiously. The door was closed, but he had one hand on the knob like a timid faun. "Where's your mother?" he asked, suddenly realizing how little he knew of how to address the boy. How long had it been since they'd spoken without one of his older sons present?

Hilio glanced at the door. "I don't know."

"Did she see you?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Don't let her," He studied the boy up and down. "She'll rip out my throat for allowing you to pass unchecked in such a wretched condition."

His boy looked down himself and pawed meekly at the front of his shirt like a commoner. Baskar sneered, but instantly froze in horror at the unwarranted surge of animosity. He turned back to his desk where a map of the island had replaced that of the Blue Mine. His hands automatically smoothed down non-existent wrinkles. "Why are you here?"

Had he turned he would've seen Hilio's confusion. His unease. "You summoned me," he said again and stepped closer. Forgetting himself for a moment in the face of his sequestered father. "Has Hellon told you of what's happening?"

"Hm? No," The king rotated in his chair.

"The mine is being cleared, but it will take at least a week to reach the depth we suspect they were at when it collapsed."

Baskar nodded and let his eyes drift. "What of the men?"

"Weary," Hilio granted. "But determined."

The king looked up again, this time taking the moment to watch more closely. "And you, boy?" he whispered.

Hilio frowned and faltered. "I…"

"How fare you?"

A quiver of sadness rushed over his face before he quickly averted it. "I'm fine, Father. Thank you for the guards… They're quite diligent."

Baskar scoffed at the spiteful note his son couldn't quite hide. "Well good," He made to push out of his seat, but spared his son one close look before doing so. "We'll find them, Hilio."

The young man looked him in the eye for what felt like the first time in years.

"I promise."

With a last searching look, he nodded and made to turn. "If you require nothing further?" He gestured outwards.

"Where will you go?" Baskar asked, feeling irrationally destitute.

"Back to Blue Mine."

The king swallowed down a surge of sadness and nodded. "Very well," he said in a harder voice. "Go find your brothers."

Hilio might have smiled when he bowed one last time, but Baskar had already turned his back.

Susan made landfall late in the evening. So late the sun was absent and stars were speckled merrily across the black heavens. Birds had gone to rest and a peaceful wind blew in over the serenely lit port of Eion. Smaller than Dawn, larger than Cair Paravel. Paved in cobble stone with thatched houses and mild-mannered folk who cast wary glances as the Dæios slipped into place alongside an anchored fishing ship, directly in front of the harbor master offices.

An unerring sense of despondency began to draw at Susan's heart.

Lanterns were lit along the flophouses and taverns, but no music flowed out of the un-shuttered windows that Susan could hear. She looked to Captain Helios and saw her confusion reflected in his eyes. "There should be merriment, My Queen."

"Unless they're grieving," she finished. "Dahlia, Costar," The panthress and tiger slipped silently along behind her. "Stay in hiding until I say."

They nodded and seemed to almost melt into the shadows as Susan continued down the gangway, hidden by a midnight blue cloak, Helios by her side preceding her by half a step. He was a Galmian navy officer though he hardly looked the part with a worn, brown coat covering his evergreen uniform and scimitar. Narnian colors, Susan had noted, but Calormene weapons. The Galmians had taken to sovereign rule like starving children whilst the Terebinthians appeared, at first glance, less eager. She watched the streets as they climbed the terrain. Her delicate slippers had been replaced by warmer rigging boots, though neither were suited for walking longer distances.

They arrived at the gates of the Storm where Helios uncloaked with a flourish, as per the plan. He announced himself in the loud, posturing voice nobility so often perfected. The guards, who recognized him, floundered to open the doors. She saw one sprint ahead of them, presumably to announce their presence. She followed behind him with the hood of her cloak up and delicate hands gripping its edges to keep it there.

"Right this way, Officer," a page wafted them into an anteroom and promptly closed the doors.

Susan looked beyond the entrance, up to the raised thrones. Three, were there. Two were empty. One to the left of the king's seat was occupied by a lady. The one Susan assumed was Queen Hira of Eion. She drew her cloak tighter as Helios made his way closer, unmolested. There were more soldiers than the situation warranted, but it wasn't until she came closer that she understood why. In an alcove to the right of the thrones sat three ladies and three children of varying ages. Large copper basins were lit with whale oil and the ladies held their children and each other in suspense under the half-light.

They were frightened, Susan realized. Of Helios. Of Galma.

"Helios of the Royal Galmian Navy. What brings you to our doorstep?" The Queen asked in a clear voice. Not a trace of unease. Her hands were rested peacefully on either side of her seat and in her dark red gowns she looked the embodiment of royalty, Susan thought. Pale hair tied on the top of her head and serene, blue eyes watching her visitors keenly.

"My Queen, I seek an audience with the King," Helios replied with a low bow.

Susan looked down and wondered if Dahlia and Costar were watching her and waiting, but daren't turn to look. "The King is occupied. How may I assist you?"

Helios faltered and Susan placed a soft hand on his upper arm. He turned to her and retreated two steps to allow her an audience. "My Queen," Susan said as she drew back her hood. A shocked inhale echoed from the alcove where the ladies of court watched. Soldiers tensed. "I've come for news of my siblings."

The older queen watched her in momentary shock and gathered her hands over her stomach before she spoke. "I'm afraid he cannot help you in that respect, Queen Susan."

Susan drew the cloak away from her shoulders and stepped closer, noticing how the soldiers placed their hands on pommels throughout the room. "I come in peace, Queen Hira," she said with a pointed look at the armed guard. Assured Helios would die to defend her and rather loathing that idea. "I came out of concern, not just for my own but for yours as well. I hear your three oldest sons are trapped inside along with our youngest?" She looked up at the queen. Susan was now thoroughly bared and visible. Observable and readable, by any who so desired.

The queen made an aborted, little movement before she stilled. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," She started to shake her head. "I cannot-" She glanced at her ladies in waiting. "The King will see no one. Not even myself."

Susan softened as she felt a surge of pity for the woman, though the despondency thrummed on the edge of her mind. Hira was concerned as much as, if not more than, Susan. She sighed and looked down in thought. "Someone needs to fetch him, Your Majesty," She looked the queen in the eye. "He cannot hide from this."

It was the very first time, she realized, that she was faced with someone to whom she should have bowed. It was neglectful of her to have forgotten. The queen was a sovereign ruler. And older than Susan. She should have consulted with Hira for the correct course of action, sought her advice, and not approached in such an underhanded manner. She should have shown respect, but it's too late for that now.

Now she had only that mystical reputation her Narnian countrymen had been so keen to foster. Four magical children of another world had halted an eternal Winter and summoned the Lord of All Things by their mere presence. Defeated a Witch the same way. It was hard not to be affected when such was your story.

The queen looked understandably unsure.

"Forgive me, Queen Hira, but my brother will not show the same leniency. We were under the impression our youngest were safe. You have children of your own. Surely you must understand the concern?" It occurred to her that all anger she had previously felt, intermixed with frustration and fear, dwindled at actually facing someone who might feel the same. The queen looked stalwart on the surface, but there was a brittle countenance that betrayed her exterior calm.

Susan wondered if Hira saw the same in her.

Helios was watching them both, Susan in unabashed adoration. She had seen it when she and her brother had arrived in Galma, on every new face they encountered. So much so that it had begun to weary her and that she had to forcefully remind herself to be respectful of their adoration. To be mindful. It grew dull over the long months since she'd ascended and it had steadily begun to fill her with a strange animosity. That same anger she had become so very adept at ignoring. "Majesty?"

The queen looked at her another moment in indecision before she looked to the ladies of court. They were the wives and children of the princes, Susan realized. "Very well, Queen Susan."

She stood in a awe-inspiring flow of blood red silk and descended the three steps from her seat. She stopped in front of the younger queen and stood half a head taller than her. She glanced at Helios. "Stay here, Captain."

Susan looked at him and nodded, casting a subtle look around for signs of two particular felines. It was already dawning on her how useful Animals were in such situations. More than once the surety that an ally watched over her had been enough to calm her. "Await my brother's arrival. Inform him where I've gone if I don't return to tell him myself."

Helios nodded.

She followed the queen deeper into the castle, down chalked halls, adorned with more copper basins and fluttering linens. Dark colors, to no doubt show that the keep was in mourning. She hoped Cair Paravel wouldn't have to follow their example. Sent a thought to Aslan and wondered if he could even hear her, though the doubt was eased a second later. He always heard before. Now would be no different, but she was beginning to understand Him better with each day. Not all actions that should be taken, could.

She was learning.

The queen knocked on her husband's door and waved down the stationairy guards. "My Lord?" she called through the thick turpentine. "We have visitors, Baskar."

Seconds ticked by with inaction until Susan began to think the door would never open. Then suddenly it did. A harried-looking man peeked out only to look up and down the hall. "Is Hellon with you?"

"No, Sire."

"Who's this?" he muttered at Susan.

"This is Queen Susan the Gentle of Narnia, My Lord," Susan and Hira watched the king's face drop and whiten. His countenance went from frazzled and paranoid to aimless and fearful. He retreated uncertainly and allowed the women entrance, closing the door very softly behind them.

"My Queen," he exhaled.

She nodded to him in greeting. "King Baskar."

"Wh-Why are you here, My Queen?" A quick glance at his wife.

He was the first to use her title possessively. Susan felt a flutter and knew it must've showed on her face. "I precede my brother who's on his way now," She glanced at Hira. "He comes with High Duke Ayel Maeon-Tal and a faction of the Galmian navy."

The king drew a deep breath through his mouth as his face paled further. "We have nothing," He raised his hands in impotence. "We have nothing to defend ourselves with."

She nodded. "I know. He comes out of fear. Concern for our youngest."

The king saddened notably.

"I hear there was a collapse. I had hoped to see the mine before my brother's arrival?"

The king had begun nodding as she spoke. "In the dead of night?" Susan nodded. "Well then... Yes. Certainly. It is but half a day's ride away, if that," He held out a hand for her, but hurried forward when she made to get the door. He opened it for both women and retook his position at the lead once out of the room. "Have someone saddle our mounts," the king called to no one in particular. Susan wondered if anyone was around to do his bidding, but the older queen seemed as determined as he.

The stationary guards followed two paces behind as two more hurried to precede the group of royals. Together they exited into an inner courtyard. The castle, or villa perhaps, was larger than initially thought. Two courtyards lay on either side of the keep which sat atop a small bailey. There were no moats, but the outer walls were thick and discouraging to potential intruders.

The Narnians could take it over the course of one night. "This way, Your Majesty."

Susan nodded when she spotted the flurry of activity around the stables despite the late hour. Apparently someone had heard. One of the young ladies stormed out of a door along the walls of the courtyard with determined steps. "Sire, I wish to accompany you," she said with more spitfire than Susan though appropriate, but the king merely nodded without slowing his pace.

"I will stay," Hira said and placed a hand on the young lady's shoulder. "Lady Llithus, this is High Queen Susan the Gentle of Narnia."

Susan nodded and almost shot out a hand in greeting before she remembered herself. A sense of urgency beginning to take hold. The king had vanished inside the stables and was yelling at the boys before she had time to turn around. The four oldiers received four, nervous war mounts just as the king drew out two horses and a page drew the third for the lady.

Baskar held Susan's mount, a lovely Frisian, so Susan could climb up. No mention of a sidesaddle and but a hand of assistance as she mounted. She had ridden dressage saddles in Narnia, but nothing like the heavy stock saddles she now sat in. Two soldiers joined the other four as they launched into a brisk gallop, forming a loose circle around their three wards. They rode swiftly and without pause through the night. Had Susan been asked she could not have described the scenery, nor how many twists the path took on their way.

In her mind's eye a ghostly image of a collapsed mine replayed on a loop and all she felt was an unerring fear that there would be no one left inside to save.

TBC

A/N: The reference to 'raichi' is not from DBZ, but rather an old game called Tafl. I watched it played the other day and didn't understand a lick of it, but I thought it would make for a nice deviation from the chess I constantly force on Peter, Edmund and Lucy. So Susan and Dame Utha plays Tafl (which is not surprisingly also a strategy game).

Also I have previously written a rather long story, told mostly from Susan's point of view. She has a special place in my heart that one. Let me know if her behavior stirred anything in you?