Chapter 11
Things were not going well in the Telmarine camp. After their third attempt to make a bridge across Beruna was met once again with failure a la giant ice tower (the sight of which had Miraz's teeth grinding), the troops were once again seeped in paranoia that could not be threatened away by his authority. In fact the number of army desertions had never been higher in Telmarine history. Every time he left his tent he received reports of another man unaccounted for, and had likely turned tail and run from his duty. In total their army had lost a seventh of its men already to this.
The men who hadn't run weren't much better. He could hear them all muttering superstitious nonsense to each other whenever he walked through camp. The men were terrified of what may happen to them once they cross Beruna, and many were questioning Miraz's own sanity for perusing it despite the obvious danger (when they thought he wasn't listening, of course). If Miraz wasn't careful he may end up with a mutiny on his hands.
Lord Sopespian was not making things any easier. If Miraz didn't know better, he would have thought the Lord was helping to stir up the troops against him. But that couldn't happen, as he had made sure Lord Sopespian was too under his thumb to even think of rebellion.
Lord Glozelle was at least trying to improve things, even if all his efforts were fruitless. But his men trusted Glozelle, and the Lord had proven himself loyal to Miraz without question. But still, even he seemed to be viewing Miraz with suspicious eyes as of late.
Things had been looking up too. After men from three different camps had fled from their posts, all raving about demons and hell spawn rising from the grave to devour them, one stepped forward with a possible solution. He brought out a knife that he claimed would protect his men from harm by Narnian hands, and all it took was a drop pf their blood.
Miraz had been willing to grasp at straws by this point, and promptly gave the soldier a hansom reward, and a promotion. Even if the knife the soldier gave did not do what he said, if Miraz could get the troops to believe it could protect them, they would be less frightened and get back to work eliminating the pests that so vexed him.
It had taken a couple of days to get every single man in his army to place a drop of their blood on the blade, but in the end this plan seemed successful. The men had regained their confidence and were working again, this time even faster then before. But all that had gone down the drain when a colossal wave had swept down the stream and crashed into their progress, effectively destroying their hard work as well as whatever courage his men had gained, as well as causing a trout to fly out of the upset water and smack him in the face (Lord Sopespian was still laughing about it).
When he had found out that no men were seriously hurt in during this upset he tried to spin the whole thing as part of the protection. The Narnians could do their worst, but no men would fall by it.
Unfortunately while that did get the troops working again, it was obvious they were skeptical about the entire ordeal. If anything the knife was turning from a blessing to a curse. The men were starting to suspect several different possibilities from his association with it. One theory was that the entire spell was a lie made up to push the troops to put themselves in danger again. Another theory was the Miraz himself was practicing in dark magic and were beginning to fear he was and instigator in their misfortunes. The third and most common theory that the men were whispering was that he's simply lost his mind, and the protection the knife supposedly granted was simply the ravings of a mad man. Whatever the case, all the control Miraz had regained over the situation and his men had likely been swept downstream with the second bridge, and was even more lost to him by this new turn of events.
Contemplating all this Miraz strode into his tent to get a new change of clothing. The clothes he was wearing currently were soaked through from when the ice tower (grind, grind, grind) had burst from the water and sent his workers running like mice.
When he emerged from his tent he received word that there was a riot brewing down by the shores of Beruna. He quickly donned his golden armor and rode his horse to the scene, all the way trying to ignore the uncomfortable itching feeling he was beginning to feel all over his body. It was not regal to scratch oneself in public view, he reminded himself firmly. He couldn't loose command of his men even more by appearing undignified. Even so, he couldn't help but shift continuously in his saddle trying to relieve the worst of his itch.
When he arrived at the shore he saw Lord Glozelle and Lord Sopespian were trying in vain to calm the men down (well, Lord Glozelle was trying, Lord Sopespian looked more like he was amused by the whole ordeal). But the men were stubbornly refusing to try another attempt at a bridge. If the bridge had been destroyed three times in a row, what would make a fourth time any different. And perhaps this time the destruction of the bridge might have a more dire effect on those working on it, something worse then being sent flying though the air, or knocked into the river. These were the types of things they were protesting.
"The next man to protest against orders will find himself with his head separated from his shoulders!" said Miraz as he made his entrance on the scene, and came to a halt in front of a catapult.
Despite this threat all the men still voiced their complaints. While Miraz would love to kill them all, they were already loosing men by the folds. It would not do to loose more in such a wasteful manner. Miraz resolved to make sure these particular men were on the very front lines when they finally engaged the enemy.
"SILENCE!" he bellowed over their cries. "The Narnians are savages! Beasts! What makes you believe they will be content to remain on that side of the river forever! We have our enemies cornered, and are in prime position to stamp them out entirely! And you would let such a chance slip though our fingers due to petty superstition!"
That made the men quiet down and think for a bit.
"But why would building another bridge work this time, when all other attempts have failed?" asked one brave soldier.
Miraz scoffed at him. "It is the only way across," he snapped. "Unless you men believe you can carry the supplies and catapults across Beruna upon your backs!" he slapped his hand on the catapult beside him for emphasis.
He turned back to the troops to further motivate them when a terrible groaning stopped him from speaking. Looking back at the catapult, he found himself urging his horse into a run, as the catapult he had just struck was swaying dangerously.
He got out of the way just in time to avoid the catapult crashing down upon the area where he had been previously standing moments ago.
The sight of the wrecked catapult was the very last straw in Miraz's mind. There at the fords of Beruna in plain view of many of his men and two of his Lords the Treacherous Usurper to the throne threw a royal temper tantrum.
In the midst of ranting about insubordination and cursing the Narnian's mothers with every plague in the book, Miraz found himself pulling out the stone knife that had partially caused him so much grief, and throwing it with all his strength into the waters of Beruna.
He then turned his back on the river and was so caught up in raving about blasted bridges never getting themselves built and itchy pants, that he failed to notice the looks of shock and horror on the troops faces.
Finally Lord Glozelle gathered his courage and approached his king. "Er, My King…" he said carefully.
"WHAT!" Miraz spat at him, enraged at being interrupted.
Lord Glozelle soundlessly pointed at the river. Turning Miraz gaped at what he saw.
Ice was spreading rapidly over the rivers surface. Radiating outward from a central point that Miraz assumed was where the knife he had thrown had landed. As they watched the ice covered the river's surface entirely and began making its way up and down stream.
"Go!" he snapped at a man among the now silent protesters. "Check the ice."
The man didn't look happy about the order, but complied and tenderly stepped out onto the ice. When it appeared to be solid he wandered out a bit farther and stomped his foot on it. The ice remained whole and solid.
Miraz's face broke into a triumphant smirk. He turned to face Lord Sopespian and Lord Glozelle. "Gather my army!" he ordered. "We march upon the Barbarians today!"
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The assembled Narnians couldn't help but have incredulous looks on their faces as they viewed the elderly Cross Spirit that Lucy had summoned float over the Stone Table and snore like a hibernating bear.
"Er, your highness?" asked Doctor Cornelius. "Did he perhapse not hear your question?"
Lucy shook her head. "No Crux-jii heard it just fine. He's searching right now for the answers."
"Looks more like he's just sleeping to me," grumbled Trumpkin.
Nikabrik scoffed and nodded, trying his best not to look apprehensive. If this spirit ratted him out he was not sure how the others would react.
Reepicheep climbed on top of the Stone Table and made like he was about to tentivly poke Crux with his sword.
All of a suddenly the Spirit's eyes snapped open. "DIIIOOOOOO!" he bellowed, causing Reepicheep to jump back in alarm and fall off the table. All the other occupants of the room, save Lucy, had similar reactions of alarm.
"Did you find out anything about the White Witch's knife, Crux-jii?" asked Lucy calmly, used to Crux's eccentrics.
Crux nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid I could not find much, as that knife has nothing to do with Celestial Spirits, or the worlds I am familiar with. It likely originates from the same world as the Witch, and as such information about its creation is out of my reach."
"However I did receive some information about its history here from the stars of this world. As far as they know that knife has been with the Witch for as long as she has been here, which is since the very birth of this world."
"That old hag was that old?" asked Natsu.
"Yes indeed," replied Crux before continuing on. "The knife itself is seeped in her magic, but she used its power quite sparingly, most likely due to the drawbacks of her type of magic. After gaining her wand she used it even more sparingly. Usually for ritualistic killings of traitors, or when she wanted to kill a particularly important person."
"After her demise her knife fell in the possession of her followers, namely the hags. When Erza, Gray, and Natsu took care of the coven they failed to do so before the knife was passed along into the hands of another of her followers. After that the knife was lost to time, only just now reappearing."
"So someone in my Uncle's army is descended from a follower of the Witch?" asked Caspian.
Crux shook his head. "No, it is much more likely that the knife was in possession of a Narnian who wished to curse the Telmarine people, and gave it to them with that purpose in mind."
At that the group exchanged uneasy looks, failing to notice how uncomfortable Nikabrik looked.
"Do you know anything about what the knife may do to the Telmarines? Or to us?" Erza said getting back to the matter at hand.
"Hmmm…" Crux said, nodding his head slowly. "It is difficult to tell. The stars say the knife has many uses, from excruciating pain upon death, to causing enchanted sleeps, it may even have a possible origin in the Witch's hundred year winter. It is difficult to say what the knife may do to the people who now have possession of it."
Crux then drifted of to sleep, and the Narnians were left to chew on this new information.
Their musings were interrupted when Pattertwig the squirrel came bolting into the room.
"Your Majesties!" he shouted ugently, bearly pausing to catch his breath. "Beruna has frozen over! The Telmarines are preparing to cross it! They'll be here any minute! THEY'RE COMING!"
Everyone froze at this news as what Crux had said came back to them. 'It may even have a possible origin in the Witch's hundred year winter."
Immediately Erza jumped into action. "Tell all our troops to begin preparations for our plan if this place should be invaded! Tell all civilians to get to safety! It is likely our final battle begins now!"
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A/N Cliffhangers are eeeeevil aren't they? Don't worry it won't fester for long. Now the fighting will start soon, and who knows if it'll occur to Team Natsu to try and find Aslan. Now, should I do the duel between a Narnian royal, or should I leave that part out. Decisions, decisions.
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