Narnia: The Chronicles of the Lioness
Chapter 11
By: Koinu-chan16
Disclaimer: (checks her closet) Nope... I don't own Narnia.
Summary: LWW, Peter/OC. Lizzie and the Pevensies are sent to an old manor in the country where they discover a certain magic wardrobe...
Author's Note: Thanks for yet another review imakeladrygirl!
The Chronicles of the Lioness
June 3, 1940
(Lizzie's POV)
If anyone is watching the five of us outside, they might think we are just five happy, young people playing around and enjoying the cool, but sunny day.
But that is not the case.
I'm sitting up in a tree, flipping through a book, but not really reading it. I alternate between glances at the book and watching Ed, Su, and Peter playing play a ball game.
I haven't spoken to any of them much, especially not Peter, in the last few days, but then again, none of then have exactly been talkative.
Lucy is sitting at the base of the tree looking at book of her own. I'm the only one she hasn't been ignoring.
For the last few days Edmund has been really surly and spacey, like he is daydreaming or something…
Susan has been trying to act normal by putting up a falsely cheerful façade. She is trying to get us all to interact with more than nods, glares, and grunts. But she is not having much success, as we haven't been very cooperative.
As a matter of fact, the only reason the five of us are all outside together is that the Macready kicked us out of the house so that she could show it to some tourists (the old house is a historical landmark).
Edmund has the bat now and Su is poised to catch any stray balls. Peter has the ball and is pitching.
I look back at the book. The next thing I hear is a thud and "Ow!"
Peter hit Ed with the ball; he hadn't been paying attention, again.
"Oops. Sorry." Says Peter, but you can tell he isn't.
Susan throws him the ball.
Peter winds up and pitches again, this time Edmund is ready; he slams the bat into the ball which in turn flies high into the air. I try to follow it with my eyes, but the leaves obstruct my vision.
I hear a crash: breaking glass.
I gasp and scramble down out of the tree. I run to stand with the others who are all looking up at one of the ancient stained glass windows which is now shattered.
The five of us race inside and up the stairs to find that not only did the window break, but the ball hit a medieval suit of armor which has crashed to the hall floor, disassembled and dented.
I suck in a breath, "Oh my."
Peter turns on Edmund, "Good going Ed!"
"You bowled it!" he growls furiously back.
I open my mouth to snap at them both when we all hear the even thud of footsteps.
"The Macready!" hisses Susan.
I grab Lucy's arm and run, "Come on!"
The five of us run up and down stairs and in and out of corridors but the advancing footsteps follow us, trap us, and force us to retreat. The sound is coming up from the floor and down from the ceiling; reverberating from the walls.
I feel as though, something, some power, is working through the house chasing us somewhere, but it is just the Macready.
Isn't it?
We find ourselves in the hall with the guest bedrooms. The footsteps are still behind us, forcing us onward.
Lucy tries the door to her room, it's locked.
I frown and try my door. Locked as well.
Now I feel a strange, foreboding sensation as I realize something.
None of these doors have ever had locks on them.
"Come on!" Susan is holding the only unlocked door open. With a start I realize that this is the spare room, the wardrobe room, but with the footsteps close behind it is the only way out of the hall, so we all rush inside.
The sounds still pursue us.
Edmund goes to the wardrobe, opens the door, and gestures to the inside.
Susan stops, "You have got to be kidding!"
I push her after Lucy and into the wardrobe, "It's our best chance!"
Peter climbs in after me and pulls the door until there is only a crack of light.
He backs up and steps on my foot, "Ouch! Peter!"
"Sorry." He says.
"What is that smell?" asks Lucy.
"Camphor." Answers Ed from the back of the wardrobe.
"I suspect the pockets of these coats are full of it; to keep out moths." Says Susan.
Peter pushes me gently and whispers, "Back up, someone's coming."
I back up and into Susan, "Oh! Lizzie, you're on my foot!"
"Sorry I- Peter!"
"Ow!"
"Lucy stop poking me!"
"Ouch! I'm not!"
"Get off of me!"
"Oh!"
"Stop shoving!"
"Ed stop it!"
I notice that the softness and warmth of the coats has turned into a cold and unpleasant poking.
I gasp and fall forward into something even colder, and … wet?
End of Chapter 11
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