Disclaimer: Please, all honour to C.S. Lewis (on whom be the peace of God). I had nothing to do with it but child's play in this beautiful, inspiring universe.

Chapter Eleven

The next day I rose early, and there was bread and goat's milk laid out for me on the single table in the room I had been put in, but the Hermit was not around. I went out, and Bree and Hwin were standing a little ways off from the pool. The Hermit was still looking into it, and the lantern, though extinguished, still stood beside him.

"He's been there most of the night," Bree murmured. "I can't see anything in that pool of his, but it makes sense to him." He nickered. "There are odder things under the sky than a farsighted Hermit, to be sure, but still, it is very strange. He has not so far, seen anything important."

"At least, nothing he saw fit to tell us," Hwin modified.

I sat down beside the Hermit, and Hwin and Bree came up beside me. I bit into my bread, delicious, nutty, honey-bread, and drank some of my milk. I watched, and waited.

Every now and then, the Hermit said things like, "There is movement in the woods; Rabadash is at work," but it wasn't until eleven o'clock that things began happening in earnest.

"I see one- two- three eagles wheeling in the gap by Stormness Head," he began. "One is the oldest of the eagles. He would not be out unless battle was at hand. I see him wheel to and fro, peering down sometimes at Anvard and sometimes to the east, behind Stormness. Ah-" he said, and I sat up. "I see now what Rabadash and his men have been so busy at all day. They have felled and lopped a great tree and they are now coming out of the woods carrying it as a ram. They have learned something from the failure of last night's assault." The Hermit went on for a time about the foolishness of Rabadash, then took up again, "They are bringing their ram into position. King's Lune's men are shooting hard from the walls. Five Calormenes have fallen: but not many will. They have their shields above their heads. Rabadash is giving his orders now. With him are his most trusted lords, fierce Tarkaans from the eastern provinces. I can see their faces. There is Corradin of Castle Tormunt, and Azrooh, and Chlamash, and Ilgamuth of the twisted lip, and a tall Tarkaan with a crimson beard-"

"By the Mane," ejaculated Bree, "My old master Anradin!"

I shushed him. Some of these men knew my father, these were the hard ones, the ones I hadn't liked as a child. But the Hermit continued. "Now the ram has started. If I could hear as well as see, what a noise that would make! Stroke after stroke: and no gate can stand it forever. But wait!" he said, and his eyebrows flew up. "Something up by Stormness has scared the birds. They're coming out in masses. And wait again…I can't see yet." He paused, looking intently.

"Ah, now I can. The whole ridge, up on the east, is black with horsemen. If only the wind would catch that standard and spread it out. They're over the ridge now, whoever they are." He suddenly gave a jubilant cry. "I've seen the banner now," he told us. "Narnia. Narnia! It's the red lion. They're in full career down the hill now. I can see King Edmund…"

I remembered the dark-haired, fair-faced young man from Tashbaan, and grinned. The Hermit went on. "There's a woman behind among the archers. Oh!"

"What is it?" asked Hwin, her voice joyful, but anxious at the same time.

"All his Cats are dashing out from the left of the line."

I checked at this. "Cats?"

The Hermit waved his hand impatiently, as if adjuring me to use my head. "Great cats, leopards and such," he told me. "I see, I see. The Cats are coming round in a circle to get at the horses of the dismounted men. A good stroke. The Calormene horses are mad with terror already. Now the Cats are in among them. But Rabadash has re-formed his line and has a hundred men in the saddle. They're riding to meet the Narnians. There's only a hundred yards between the two lines now."

As the Hermit described the charge and who was in it, I wondered how on earth Narnia had got wind of Rabadash's attack on Anvard. "There are two mere children in the Narnian line," The Hermit was saying in surprise. "What can the King be about to let them into the battle? Only ten yards- the lines have met. The Giants on the Northern right are doing wonders…" he reported, then his face twisted into sadness. "But one's down. Shot through the eye, I suppose. The center's all a muddle. I can see more on the left. There are the two boys again," he said. His eyes widened suddenly. "Lion alive! One is Prince Corin."

I straightened up, recalling this name from Shasta's tale of Tashbaan. "The other," said the Hermit, "Like him as two peas. It's your little Shasta."

I bit my lip, and I saw Bree's tail start to twitch, though that, of course, explained how Narnia had heard of Rabadash's attack. "Corin is fighting like a man," the Hermit said. "He's killed a Calormene. I can see a bit of the center now. Rabadash and Edmund almost met then, but the press has separated them-"

I shook my head, and Bree tossed his mane. "What about Shasta?" I asked pointedly.

There was silence for a minute, and the Hermit groaned. "Oh, the fool! Poor, brave fool. He knows nothing about this work. He's making no use at all of his shield. His whole side's exposed."

Bree let out an anxious whinny. The Hermit continued. "He hasn't the faintest idea what to do with his sword. Oh, he's remembered it now. He's waving it wildly about…nearly cut his own pony's head off, and he will in a moment if he's not careful." The Hermit's voice rose. "It's been knocked out of his hand no. It's mere murder sending a child into the battle; he can't live five minutes. Duck, you fool!" he cried, "Oh, he's down."

"Killed?" I cried out, and Bree and Hwin with me. Oh, Shasta, not after all that, I thought, 'Poor, brave fool' indeed. Just like Kadmel.

The Hermit shook his head, "How should I know," he said sadly. "The Cats have done their work. All the riderless horses are dead or escaped now: no retreat for the Calormenes on them. Now the Cats are turning back into the main battle. They're leaping on the rams-men. The ram is down. Oh, good! Good!" he cried again.

"The gate's are opening," he reported. "There's going to be a sortie. The first three are out. It's King Lune in the middle: the brothers Dar and Darrin on each side of him. Behind them are Tran and Shar and Cole with his brother Colin. There are ten-twenty-nearly thirty of them out by now. The Calormen line is being forced back upon them. King Edmund is dealing marvelous strokes. He's just slashed Corradin's head off. Lots of Calormenes have thrown down their arms and are running for the woods. Those that remain are hard pressed. The Giants are closing in on the right- Cats on the left- King Lune from their rear. The Calormenes are a little knot now, fighting back to back. Your Tarkaan's down, Bree. Lune and Azrooh are fighting hand to hand; the King looks like winning- the King is keeping it up well- the King has won. Azrooh's down." He paused, then said loudly, quickly, angrily, "King Edmund's down-" he smiled in relief, "No, he's up again: he's at it with Rabadash. They're fighting in the very gate of the castle. Several Calormenes have surrendered. Darrin has killed Ilgamuth. I can't see what's happened to Rabadash. I think he's dead, leaning against the castle wall, but I don't know. Chlamash and King Edmund are still fighting but the battle is over everywhere else. Chlamash has surrendered. The battle is over," he said in surprise. "The Calormenes are utterly defeated."

I took a deep breath, processing that it was over, and that I was really, truly free. But two hundred warriors from my homeland were either captured or dead- and Shasta-

But The Hermit was talking. "Things are still happening. Edmund is shaking King Lune's hand- everyone is laughing. I see- Rabadash is not dead. He is caught- somehow suspended on a hook in the castle wall. Oh, wait, friends," he said joyfully, "Your little Shasta. He's not dead, after all. He fell, but now he's up. Dear ones, I don't even think he's seriously hurt!"

"Praise the Lion!" Bree said breathlessly, and I wondered why on earth he'd be praising a lion, of all things.

"Ah, Rabadash is being bound and taken away, screaming, howling like the miserable fool that he is. Corin has found your Shasta. It seems the two boys are friends. Corin is excited about something. He is taking Shasta to King Lune. They are talking- by the Lion! The king has embraced the boy- Shasta, not Corin- kissed him like a son. I wonder...but friends, we shan't be able to hear them, and I am sure Shasta himself will now be able to tell you all that transpires from here. Shall we see about some late dinner?"

I nodded dumbly, and the three of us followed the Hermit to the kitchen door, where the Hermit would make something nice for the horses and for me and him.

"But what can it all mean?" I found myself saying. "What will happen to Rabadash? And what about Shasta?"

"You may rest easy about Rabadash," said the Hermit. "He is a villain and deserves death, but Lune will not give it to him. The King is kindly, and merciful. As for your Shasta, he is a hero, though I can only guess who he is to the King besides that. Friends with Corin, and saviour of Archenland, though, I can suppose that he will go no further north than Anvard. The Prince lacks companions of his own age."

I nodded, suddenly sad. "You two will go to Narnia, won't you?" I said.

"It is why we came," Hwin said, sticking her nose delicately into the trough the Hermit now filled with oats for her and for Bree.

"My daughter, what shall we eat this afternoon?" he asked me. I curtsied.

"My father, pardon me, but I do not find that I am hungry," I said. I turned, and walked towards the Northern gate. I grabbed the bars and looked out, towards where I presumed Anvard, and the pass to Narnia lay.

Here now, was the problem I had anticipated as early as Tashbaan. Where was I to go now? Should I go to the king of Archenland, a woman of the race that had just attacked him, and beg sanctuary? Could I to Narnia, a land which, as the Hermit now confirmed, was just as full of talking animals and giants that needed no houses as it was of men, or more so? Who would be my friend, daughter of Calormen and traitor that I was? I had not realized how much I had counted on having Shasta by my side, even before I had recognized what he was worth. Now that he was gone, I found myself free, yes, but also lonely in a strange land.

I heard hooves fall behind me, and turned to find Hwin. "Aravis," she said. "You're worried again."

I went to her, and leaned my head up against hers. "What am I to do?"

She was silent for a time. When she spoke, she said, "You are as much a hero to Archenland as Shasta, and yours was the harder path to walk. Yours was the news he carried to King Lune. Surely, the Narnians and Archenlanders will realize how brave you've been. I can't imagine that they would turn you away, should you ask for sanctuary among them." She hesitated. "And if they should not, I did promise I'd look after you, though I know it's not what you would prefer."

"Hwin, how could you look after me?" I asked, half-laughing.

She was quiet when she answered. "I don't know, but I did promise. I won't have brought you to Narnia only to be alone. I wouldn't be a friend if I did that. Anyway, we needn't bother about it unless worse comes to worse. We'll do all we can to get you settled with humans- people that will love and respect you, and, like I said, I can't imagine it'll be hard- you are a hero."

"I'm a runaway former Tarkheena, a Calormene, and a traitor one at that," I said. But I stuck out my chin. "Still, better the life of a free beggar in the beautiful, kindly Narnia with a friend like you than the life of a caged princess in the cruel, sumptuous world of my fathers."

"You do not regret coming?" Hwin asked nervously.

"Never. But I do worry."

Hwin pushed at my cheek a little with her head, trying to comfort me, and together, we looked out towards the North.

The next day, after breakfast when the Hermit was inside, we began to talk.

"I've had enough of this," said Hwin. "The Hermit has been very good to us and I'm very much obliged to him, I'm sure. But I'm getting as fat as a pet pony, eating all day and getting no exercise. Let's go on to Narnia."

Bree looked horror-struck. "Oh, not today, ma'am," he objected. "I wouldn't hurry things. Some other day, don't you think?"

"We must see Shasta first and say good-bye to him," I said, "And-"- beg to stay? Plead for mercy as a runaway daughter of Calormen? My mind supplied. I settled for, "And apologize."

"Exactly!" agreed Bree far too quickly. "Just what I was going to say."

"Oh, of course," said Hwin. "I expect he is in Anvard. Naturally we'd look in on him and say good-bye. But that's on our way. And why shouldn't we start at once? After all, I thought it was Narnia we all wanted to get to?" She directed her words at me, and subtly stepped in front of me, signaling she'd shelter me, both from looking weak and from whatever came.

"I suppose so," I said.

"Of course, of course," said Bree, "But there's no need to rush things, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean," said Hwin. "Why don't you want to go?"

Bree's tail swished and his weight shifted from hoof to hoof. "Mmm…Broo-hoo…Well, don't you see, Ma'am- it's an important occasion- returning to one's own country- entering society- the bet society- it is so essential to make a good impression," He looked back towards his rump. "Not perhaps looking quite ourselves yet, eh?"

Hwin laughed. "It's your tail, Bree! I see it all now. You want to wait till your tail's grown again! And we don't even know if tails are worn long in Narnia. Really, Bree, you're as vain as that Tarkheena in Tashbaan!"

I smiled. "You are silly, Bree."

"By the Lion's Mane, Tarkheena, I'm nothing of the sort!" protested Bree. "I have a proper respect for myself and for my fellow horses, that's all."

"Bree," I said, suddenly resolving to find out what all this nonsense was about a lion. "I've been meaning to ask you something for a long time. Why do you keep swearing 'By the Lion' and 'By the Lion's Mane'? I thought you hated lions." I twisted a little, feeling the scabs stretch over my back.

"So I do," Bree said. "But when I speak of the Lion of course I mean Aslan, the great deliverer of Narnia who drove away the Witch and the Winter. All Narnians swear by him."

I shuddered. I'd heard the name. Aslan was the chief of the demons supposed to inhabit Narnia. "But is he a lion?" I asked.

"No, no, of course not," said Bree quickly, looking at me as if I were drooling.

"All the stories about him in Tashbaan say he is," I persisted. "And if he isn't a lion why do you call him a lion?"

At that very moment I understood the meaning of the phrase "speak of the devil". For a lion, an enormous lion, bigger than any I had ever seen or somehow knew would ever see again, had sprung up onto the wall. As soon as I saw Him, I lost all power of speech and motion. He glowed in the morning sun as he sprang down, landing silently inside behind Bree, but He seemed to exude a radiance all his own.

Bree's back was to the Lion, and it was making no noise as it approached, so he went on prattling. "-it would be quite absurd to suppose he is a real lion. Indeed it would be disrespectful. If he was a lion he'd have to be a Beast just like the rest of us. Why! If he was a lion he'd have four paws, and a tail, and Whiskers!" He broke off into a yelp, because right then the Lion had stepped up right beside him, so close that one of his whiskers had tickled Bree's ear. Bree ran as far as he could go, to the other side of the Hermit's enclosure, but he could go no further.

The Lion stood before us, and I knew, just as much and more than I knew my own name was Aravis, that this was Aslan, saviour of Narnia. And he was not a demon. He was a Lion. He was the Lion, and he was here, and real, and beautiful, and dangerous, and at the same time he was my only hope. The only hope I had ever had. In that moment, I knew Tash, and Zardeenah, and all of the countless others were nothing, were abominations, compared to Him. I felt all of my pride and anger and carelessness and littleness before his glory, and I could not move.

Hwin did. She moved forward, until she was almost nose to nose with the Lion. "Please," she said softly. "You're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else."

"Dearest daughter," said the Lion in a rich golden voice that seemed to shake the earth. He licked Hwin's nose. "I knew you would not be long in coming to me. Joy shall be yours."

Then he lifted his head and spoke in a ringing command. "Now, Bree. You poor, proud, frightened Horse, draw near. Nearer still, my son. Do not dare not to dare Touch me. Smell me. Here are my paws, here is my tail, these are my whiskers. I am a true Beast."

Bree stood at Aslan's feet now with Hwin, shaking. But he spoke. "Aslan," he said, and the word was a greeting and a recognition. "I'm afraid I must be rather a fool."

"Happy the Horse who knows that while he is still young," said Aslan, and I thought there was a note of humour in that voice bigger than the world. "Or the Human either." Then he turned those golden eyes upon me, and I began trembling. "Draw near, Aravis my daughter."

Something turned inside of me, leapt to be recognized by Him. I came, and shakily, I knelt at His feet beside Bree and Hwin.

"See!" He told me. "My paws are velveted. You will not be torn this time."

I looked into his face, and my back gave a sudden throb. "This time, sir?" I asked.

"It was I who wounded you," He said. "I am the only lion you met in all your journeyings. Do you know why I tore you?"

"No, sir," I said. He tore my back, and then He calls me Daughter. My brain reeled.

"The scratches on your back, tear for tear, throb for throb, blood for blood, were equal to the stripes laid on the back of your stepmother's slave because of the drugged sleep you cast upon her. You needed to know what it felt like."

I remembered what the Hermit had said, and what I had thought that night. I could not deny Him. Proud, Disdainful Aravis, who had stepped over poor Nasreen and had rejoiced in the prospect of her pain to spite Lanavisra… I despised her, and I would not go back. I bowed my head. "Yes, sir. Please-"

"Ask on, my dear," said Aslan.

"Will any more harm come to her by what I did?"

I looked into His face, and His eyes both approved and promised nothing. "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own." He shook His mane, and a lovely smell, of bravery, and of hope, if I may call them smells, arose from it. "Be merry, little ones," he commanded. "We shall meet soon again. But before that you will have another visitor."

In one swift bound He sprang to the top of the wall. He did not look back. He dropped over the side, and was gone.

A/N: Again, this is a chapter I've had to cut in half. But the result should be TWO lovely chapters rather than one that's too long to be quite so enjoyable. I hope I did justice to the Aslan-experience. I think I did…you tell me. Review please?

God Bless!

L.