Thanks to yetti and Queen Su for reviewing! I'm hoping to get a bit more action coming up soon so keep reading and reviewing!
King Levetine sorely hoped that everything was going to plan. When he had heard his prophet's prediction he had initially been doubtful of its truth. Cash, for that was the fortune-teller's name, was not renowned for his accurate foresights but the King decided to believe him this time because of the possibilities his prophecy opened up. It was too exciting a chance to just ignore. For years, decades, he had wanted to claim the kingdom called Narnia but until now it hadn't seemed possible. First there was the White Witch who had ruled over the land with an iron-fist and there was no way he could have ever contemplated defeating her. After her downfall, he had thought he might have a chance at fighting the new Kings and Queens and their army but he soon discovered – after scouting the country with many men and consulting several allies – they were too strong. However, he was always looking for opportunities so when he heard Cash's prophecy he had leapt on the olive branch extended to him.
"On the Eleventh Night of Winter, problems will fall upon the illustrious land of Narnia. The reason for their troubles will come in the form of a boy, a Son of Adam from another world; this boy, in certain hands, will bring wealth and power to whomever possesses him."
Leventine had decided to become those 'certain hands' because he wanted to be the one who overthrew Narnia's ever-popular rulers and claim their region for his own. Therefore, he had spent several days conferring with other prophets, wise men and advisors to obtain their opinion on the matter. They had, not wanting to upset or disappoint the King, immediately told him that he could create that future and then they had advised him on how best to take action. That was how he had ended up sending several of his soldiers to key points around the land so that they could pass through magical portals into an alternative universe and bring back a selection of human boys.
They had done so, with little trouble, and the boys – one of which would hopefully be the boy (Levetine was leaving this down to fate) – were now in the depths of Narnia's forests. The King drew a perverse pleasure out of being so close to the so-called magnificent rulers, under their nose even, without them being aware. The camp was well camouflaged; he wasn't taking any chances of being discovered and housed over five hundred men who he had shipped over. Levetine was now just waiting, waiting to see the hand that fate dealt him. He was biding his time until his possession of the boy, led to the downfall of Narnia's monarchs and his uprising.
Looking out of his shelter, the King observed a group of men trudging wearily back into the camp, passing through the moss green tents. They seemed to have been hunting because one of them had the carcass of a pigeon flung over his shoulder and another held a brace of a mixture of rabbits and squirrels. Levetine recognised the oldest of the men as Finnian, one of his trusted captains. Finnian had been one of his most supportive comrades during the abduction of the boys and had even completed some of the acts himself. Striding out to meet him, the King cringed visibly as his boots crunched on the snow. He hated the weather here. In Calormen it was never so bitingly cold or so disgustingly white. He liked hot colours and warmth.
They acknowledged one another curtly and then Finnian proceeded to inform his ruler on several important matters. He imparted some information on the position of some trusted informants and he told of how some of their spies had overheard that the Kings of Narnia were in search of a boy. Obviously they had also heard the prophecy and were seeking the child so they could remove the threat. Levetine smiled, pleased, as he had the boy in his grasp and there was nothing they could do about it.
The castle rose in the distance. A huge white beacon on the blue backdrop. The thick grey snow-clouds had dispersed to reveal a clear, crisp sky. Mounted atop the sheer cliff, looking out onto the sparkling sapphire sea, Cair Paravel couldn't help but bring awe to whoever beheld it.
A large white seagull soared lazily around the turrets, swooping and diving. Its cawing laugh travelled through the air loudly. Alighting on one of the many roofs, the bird preened its glossy feathers and nibbled at some irritatingly itchy part on its breast. Then, once more, it spread its wings and launched into space before climbing steadily into the heavens.
Crunching through the snow that lined the path to the castle, the small band of people and animals drew closer to their destination. Hooves, boots and paws left a trail of footprints in the white powder.
Hattie walked away from everyone else, dropping back so that she would not have to talk to anyone. She didn't feel in the mood for talking. She had refused to ride on a horse again so the two Kings had elected to go on foot too, so as not to be rude. This meant that the entire journey was longer but Hattie didn't care – she didn't want to share a horse with Edmund again, no matter what. In fact, every time he came close to her and attempted to start a conversation she would reply quickly and then move off. She guessed by now he understood that she didn't want to talk to him. Therefore he had moved on to stride beside Sharp and try an initiate a discussion with him. They seemed to be getting on all right.
High King Peter was another matter; however, he was walking alongside Kolfinna and trying to be polite and interested by asking lots of questions of the creature. The whole time he was just blanked by the large black horse. Kolfinna was blatantly ignoring all of his queries. Hattie was reminded of the aloofness that the winged-beast had displayed when they first met. This aloofness could even be interpreted as hostile. Obviously, Peter was a bit put out by the unfriendly nature of his companion. The girl moved forward, catching up with the pair to see what was up with the Kolfinna and maybe even to scold him for his impoliteness.
"So, I've never met a winged horse before…" Peter said, glancing at the animal to see if he would get a response. He didn't. But still he persisted. "Though I do remember some mention of your species in The History of Narnia book we have in the library. There was something about a horse called Strawberry that got given wings by Aslan….?" Once again, the young man gave Kolfinna a quick look but received nothing in return. "I'm guessing winged horses are very rare, then, considering I have not seen many or known anyone who has met one. How many of you are there left?"
Still no answer. Peter, usually eternally patient, was beginning to get a little frustrated.
"And what brings you here….from wherever you've come from? I mean, where do you originate from?"
The great pitch beast did not even acknowledge the fact that he heard the question. There was no indication. Peter pondered whether he was fearful of him, as King, but dismissed that notion. Kolfinna had been plenty vocal earlier. But why not now? Was his injury bothering him? The young sovereign could see the painful looking gash in his side and the blood that had crusted there. The sooner they got to Lucy and her cordial the better.
Suddenly, Peter was aware of another presence quiet close to him and he glimpsed Hattie joining them. The teenage girl was just as curious as the winged horse to him; to have just appeared to them when they were in the forest dressed in so little and in need of help. It all seemed very coincidental. Peter wondered whether she was from their world: the land of Spare Oom and War Drobe. That was a possibility. Not many humans were found in Narnia and she was not clothed in any attire he'd seen in this world. Still, he would have to probe her with questions later.
Peter noticed her glide slowly closer and then fall into step beside him. He smiled amicably. She offered a shy smile in return. Then she turned from him and instead posed a query to Kolfinna. Her voice brooked no argument.
"Kolfinna, what is wrong with you? The High King of Narnia has addressed you, spent time trying to get to know you and all you do is ignore him. Have a little courtesy. I may not know much about being a Winged-Horse but I'm sure your parents would have taught you some manners, especially when facing royalty."
Finally, the horse reacted, lifting his massive head and twisting his muzzle to the young girl who scolded him so boldly. His dark brown eyes were cold – colder than their warm colour would have suggested.
"Daughter of Eve, I promised to help you and follow you because you saved my life and as you can see, I am doing so. However, I do not make a habit of conversing with humans or many other lowly creatures for that matter (my parents taught me that). So, if you will allow me to remain silent and not reply to this boy's impertinent questions then I will be fine, thank you."
Peter couldn't help but feel a little hurt and embarrassed by the creature's harsh words. He'd only been trying to be friendly!
"Ridiculous!" Hattie, somehow, did not seem to quail under Kolfinna's frosty words, as she lifted her chin. "You are no better than the rest of us and unless you want me to stick that arrow back into your belly then you will answer King Peter."
Surprisingly, the rare creature seemed stunned by these blunt words and he looked a little ashamed. Then he turned to Peter and with a heavy sigh said, "Yes, Winged-Horses are extremely rare. I believe there are only about fifty still left and these are scattered across countries like seeds in the wind. And yes, the Great Aslan himself did gift one of my ancestors with the brilliance of flight for he was brave and honest. He was instrumental in the creation of the Narnia we know today. The lion re-christened him Fledge." All this was said with a hint of pride and smugness in Kolfinna's voice. "As I said before, all the Winged-Horses are spread far and wide. Personally, I have no place that I call home, I am a Wanderer. Exploring is what brought me to Narnian soil."
"See now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Hattie asked, sarcasm lacing her voice. She shot Peter a knowing smile and he found himself returning the gesture immediately, before he'd even thought about it. Strange.
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