At long last, I've managed to turn out a chapter. I'm so sorry for the wait. Thanks to Arquenniel, Caomhe of Tyrone, and Laer Fea for the help in brainstorming sessions.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to reviewers Rahmi, Eregnar, omishiloh, LunaNigra, King Caspian the Seafarer, Rolletti, Arquenniel, CN, Wildfire2, , where the wind blows, captive1princess, ginevra85, Taryn Streambattle, Autumnia, and any others that I may have forgotten!
A/N #2: A plot of some substance should hopefully be appearing so keep your eyes open for that. :)
A/N #3: Also a special note of thanks to those who have put this story on their alerts or favorites. We've passed one hundred favorites and are nearing one hundred alerts. It makes me very happy to know that people are enjoying this so much!
Chapter 14: Messenger
The sun was surprisingly warm for the season, though the snow had yet to melt from the mountain caps, giving a pleasant heat to the stones in Tirza's path. Her paws swiftly and surely found their way up and over the giant boulders, pine branches swiped at her fur, and the pebbled ground stirred under her powerful strokes.
Spring and autumn were among the best of seasons for a messenger such as Tirza. The winter's snowfall impeded her journey with its wet and slippery covering. Summer's heat sapped her of moisture and made the search for water all too important for the speed with which she would prefer to travel.
But in the cooling eves of autumn or the brightening of spring, Tirza could practically fly through the forests and plains.
Aslan had blessed them with an unusually mild spring and, as such, many delegations had left Cair Paravel earlier than expected to travel to other lands. One of those delegations had included High King Peter and King Edmund.
A day after their departure, however, Tirza had been summoned by a very grave General Oreius and Queen Susan. A sealed letter had been given to her care and she was instructed in the most serious of terms that she was to deliver their message at the soonest possible moment.
And now, hours and many miles later, she was nearing her destination.
The trail was easily followed. The impressions that twenty soldiers and two Kings left on the forest were unable to be completely swept away. As she gained on them, the markings became more and more fresh.
Several hours back she had passed where they had no doubt camped for the night, sooty fire pits and crumpled grasses revealing where they had taken supper and later slept.
Her task was also made easier by the fact that they were in no great hurry. Their speed seemed to moderated and comfortable and Tirza sensed that they would take camp soon before crossing into Ettin territory.
After all, they were not expected to reach the castles of the Giants until four days thence.
Her thoughts proved to be correct as up ahead she smelled fur and sour wine. A great leap brought her over a small ledge and crashing down before a satyr resting upon a tree stump. An undignified yelp echoed through the forest and a spear swung up before her eyes.
Tirza drew in a breath and spoke the greeting long familiar to her lips, "Hail Aslan."
"Hail Aslan," the sentry looked at her with wide eyes, his grip shifting around the shaft of his spear.
Had she been a first year messenger she would have reveled in his surprise, smiled at the way his feet shuffled in the snowy dirt as he attempted to recover his wits. However, Tirza had learned after a near unpleasant brush with a dagger and another such unsuspecting sentry that speed and stealth needed to be tempered with wisdom.
Wisdom in this situation was a slow moving paw and careful words. "I bring word from Cair Paravel for King Peter and King Edmund."
"O-of course." He swallowed visibly, "I'll just fetch…my comrade, shall I?"
"You would have my thanks, Master Sentry." Tirza waited calmly. Such things were best not rushed.
"Then…if you'll follow me?" A slow blink as her nod processed in his brain and then he wrenched around to face, presumably, the main encampment. Loudly and with little care for the burgeoning shrubbery, he stumbled off into the forest, helmet clattering about his stunted satyr horns and spear end dragging a furrow through the forest floor.
The journey, surprisingly, took little longer than a few moments, though each of those was punctuated with sharp, trepidation-filled glances thrown over the little creature's shoulder.
Tirza merely stalked serenely after him, feeling the heat of her journey recede into the deepest parts of her chest as the sharp pine air pulled at her short fur. Such ventures had ceased to lose their adrenaline-filled charge long ago. Not even the sentries' responses could amuse her. What did she care for a knobby-kneed satyr?
Her noble race of cougars had ceased to taste satyr-flesh for many, many years now. Besides, if Tirza's instinct was correct, the meat would be far too stringy with age or pudgy with disuse to offer any real temptation.
The foolish little beast would keep his sagging belly and matted fur.
At long last, the tented steeples of the encampment came within sight and soon enough, she was greeted by the satyr's superior who quickly recognized the official seal on the letter in her care and directed her to the main tent. A more suitably equipped dwarf escorted her to the gilded silks of the Kings' tent and had her wait before the darkened entry.
In a refreshing change from her recent meetings, High King Peter himself pushed back the fabrics and stepped out to join her in the midday sunlight. "Tirza, I trust your journey was uneventful." He dipped his head to acknowledge her bow and accepted the sealed letter.
Indeed, the King did look pale. But she had trouble being entirely certain. Not many were sure of the care of sons of Adam and daughters of Eve and many a great scandal had been caused when an unsuspecting creature asked if their affliction had caused so much hair to be lost.
However this day she had extra reason to wonder after her liege's health.
The two Kings had only been released days ago from the physician's care. Many in the palace had protested, as loudly and firmly as one can with their ruler, against the prudence of such a strenuous undergoing. But the two were not to be daunted.
There were rumors that not even Oreius and the Queens combined had tried to stop them to no avail. The wash maids were still chattering about how the Queens had only relented because the High King had threatened to throw himself from the ramparts if he was not allowed to leave the palace. Apparently, King Edmund had offered to throw him a rope after he'd seen the wisdom of his ways.
That also had been the discussion of many a maid. Some said that the brothers were perfectly serious. Others said the threat and following riposte were in jest, a ploy to win over their sisters.
Nevertheless, the two Kings were on the road to the Northern Plains within three days accompanied by a quarter of the regular troops. Not to be outdone by each other's tales, the maids had further informed Tirza before her leave of the palace that the Queens had tried to impress upon their brothers the entire royal guard and half of the regular troops but the number had been whittled down to the current stock and a magical dropper of mystically healing fairy juice.
Tirza loftily ignored them.
Such was the idiocy of the palace help. They were only rumors, after all.
King Peter smoothed the deepening wrinkles of his forehead, and slid his thumb under the royal seal. A quick jerk later and the wax popped free. He looked over at Tirza briefly, "Thank you for your promptness. You shall have your answer soon enough." He smiled, though the action looked as though it pained him and that in reality his mind was on other matters entirely.
"My lord," she bowed again, her whiskers brushing the long strands of grass.
The tent flaps waved in the breeze as the High King disappeared behind them, a glimpse of a tent full of maps and charts and wizened creatures awaiting him briefly greeted the day's light.
And so the first half of her duty was completed.
Lazily swiping her tail across the pine-needled ground, Tirza did the following half of her duty. She waited. Oftentimes the wait for the new dispatches took long spreads of time. She had learned long ago that sitting like a forlorn pup at the fringe of the royal tents was both unbecoming and imprudent.
She would wait under the sun's warming rays next to a nice quiet creek within both eyesight and earshot of the tents should she be needed but comfortable enough to recover her strength.
A few cooling laps of water, though bitingly cold, sated her thirst and she lowered herself to the forest floor, head propped on her paws for the delay. True enough, the wait was longer for some generals over others, and while the Kings were not exorbitant with time she did not expect to be on her return journey until the sun was beneath the western hills.
Such an inconvenience would bother other messengers but Tirza remained calm. The rest would be appreciated and her speed would not be affected by the growing cold of night.
What did it matter if she arrived in Cair Paravel at dawn or at dusk?
The sun slowly sank in the sky, a light breeze gathering and weaving through the light-dappled forest. Tirza remained where she was and none came to fetch her away. Her weariness gradually took hold of her shoulders and powerful hind legs and in a moment she was dozing off in the receding late afternoon warmth.
Time passed, though Tirza could hardly say how much. Bushes rustled and instantly she was awake.
A quick span of her surroundings showed that she was no longer alone. King Edmund was walking towards her, hands shoved deep in his pockets and head down. His boot-clad toes swiped at the branches that had the unfortunate burden of falling on his path.
He finally glanced up, and came to stand a few feet off. A wan smile brightened his face and he greeted her. "Hullo, Tirza. Pleased to see you in one piece."
"And you as well, my lord." She raised herself off the forest floor and lowered her head in respect.
"Yes, well, if my family had their way I would not be out from underneath the rooftops of Cair Paravel. I doubt I would ever even leave the gates of the palace." King Edmund blew out a breath and pulled a hand through his dark hair.
"My lord?"
"Sorry," he mumbled, tossing a glance to the great tents in which no doubt his brother and the generals sat in conference.
"It is no matter, my lord." Tirza tried to put him at ease. Perhaps he'd been sent to deliver the new dispatches. It would not have been uncommon. King Peter and King Edmund had little compunction for hiding away in enclosed spaces and any excuse to escape such confinement was readily accepted, even if it may have been considered mundane by some.
Be that as it may, no letter was procured and the younger King continued as if encouraged.
"It's just that Peter can be smothering sometimes. Terribly demanding…and loud." King Edmund drew his arms across his chest, shoulders back, and face determinedly turned to the encampment. "And bothersome. And, do you know? He's even got the audacity to claim that I snore!"
His dark eyes whirled on her. "Snore! Can you believe such utter lunacy?" and then the smoldering glare was burning holes in the main tent's grand arches, "as if I'd snore." His tone had dropped dangerously low, like a territorial male stalking his prey, "I don't snore. He is the one that snores."
Tirza bowed again, hoping that perhaps he might proffer the letter now.
He remained oblivious to her slight hint and stood beside her, scowling off into tent's opening.
Minutes passed and still no letter appeared.
Tirza finally settled her eyes on the opening as well. Perhaps there was a piece of this mystery she was missing. Revelation might be found in staring at whatever the King was so put out by.
After what seemed like an age, Tirza blinked, feeling the dirt building on her eyes and the wetness of tears to clean it away.
The young King remained unmoved. In fact, if possible his scowl seemed to have darkened.
Slowly, Tirza eased herself down into a sitting position at his side and waited still further. Revelation, it seemed, was not forthcoming and she had no desire to be weary when her task would finally be attended to.
The king hardly shifted after Tirza estimated an hour had passed. She doubted little would have changed even with the setting of the sun unless the tent flap was pulled away and High King Peter stepped outside. And such a thing did, in fact, happen.
The High King looked excessively weary, like a great bear emerging from a long hibernation to the sun-dappled fields of spring. He ran a hand through his hair and squinted over at the dipping sun. Only a few moments passed before he saw the pair of them sitting by the great oak. Shoving his hands in his pockets much like his brother had done, he walked over heavily, head down and shoulders tense.
"Tirza," he nodded his greeting to her and glanced sideways at his brother, "Ed".
"Your majesty" Tirza bowed.
King Edmund offered a frigid, "Pete".
The High King pointedly ignored the biting pronouncement of his name and focused his attention on her. "I'm afraid I haven't a message for you, Tirza. There was some…" he cleared his throat awkwardly, "disagreement over what the response should be exactly."
King Edmund snorted but made no other comment.
"If you wish for food, there is some waiting for you just in there," he pointed to a tent across the clearing. "It might be some time," his eyes dropped to the ground at his feet, "before I can persuade the others."
Tirza was about to thank her liege for his concern and politely accept a few flagons of cold water for her journey when it would eventually commence when she was cut off.
"Oh, come off it, Pete." The King's tone was surprisingly calm and tired even. "I'm not going to agree to some fool plan to stand against the Ettinsmoor giants by reinforcing the northern borders. They'll not be frightened a twit and we'll have a new garrison to explain to their diplomats."
It seemed both brothers were weary of the debate as High King Peter nodded absently, more interested in kneading a hand across his forehead.
"Just let the giants move as they will. We'll be in Ettinsmoor within a fortnight and there we can straighten this whole mess out. The giants will move their troops from the northern border and all will be well."
"I agree with you on that point, but the whole matter is just not that simple, Ed." King Peter held up a hand and the younger King's mouth that had fallen open, no doubt to argue his point further, stubbornly closed in deference.
"The generals are afraid that this is just the first move of many. For the giants of Ettinsmoor to move militarily, when they are aware that we will be arriving at their capital shortly, seems suspicious. If they moved to attack us, while in their territory, we would be in no position to defend ourselves. Think of where that would leave Narnia. They would have a kingdom in panic and two monarchs to bargain with."
King Edmund's facial expression demonstrated his disbelief that such a move would be taken by the giants.
"I know it's unlikely. But there is still that chance and while it is there, we need to be cautious. Even if their intents are merely defensive, to bolster weary troops as you believe it to be, we need to be aware that our own troops are likely as weary of being vigilant and we cannot allow such vital outposts as the ones along the northern border to be undefended.
He sighed sharply. "It isn't what I'd like either, Ed, but if Narnia lost an area that could have been held simply because we didn't send in a few dozen reinforcements..."
"I know, I bloody know already." The King drew his arms across his chest. "I just wish it wasn't so bloody aggressive." He glanced back at the High King with slitted eyes. "You know they'll wonder if we're mobilizing an attack if more troops are moved there."
"I know."
"Well, brilliant. It'll make our job that much more difficult…but I suppose there's nothing else for it."
"Then," King Peter hesitated shall I draw up the message?"
King Edmund looked as though a storm cloud had settled over his head but even Tirza could see his concession. "No, I'll do it. Leastways I'll know what exactly to tell the nobles who'll be questioning us about it."
"Ed…"
"I've got it, Pete. Reinforcements to the north." And the King turned on his heel and marched back to the main tent's awnings.
"Well, he was in a mood." the High King grumbled under his breath and Tirza discretely pretended not to have heard.
Such comments were not a part of her duties. Military strategies and disagreements between monarchs…well, that was for the politicians and washing maids to manage. Couriers, after all, only delivered messages.
And an hour later, Tirza was indeed returning to Cair Paravel through the starlit night bearing orders for an increase in troop support along the northern border.