21 - Training

Aslan's How, Narnia
2303

"Keep your sword up, Caspian," said Silas. "Don't lower it even for a second. I don't expect Miraz to fight with honor, though he'll expect it out of you."

Caspian was sweating and clearly tired, but the determination on his face was admirable. Not once had he asked for a rest; it was Silas who called them, when he saw the Telmarine prince flagging.

Jaelyn sat at the edge of their sparring ground, a space of similar size to the field they would use for the actual combat, but inside the How. Silas didn't trust the Telmarines not to send spies to observe Caspian's techniques, if they'd trained outside. All Miraz would have was the same knowledge given in training any Telmarine warrior.

Caspian would have that, and more. If anything good could come from not having existed for thirteen centuries, Silas thought grimly, it was that his techniques, passed on to Caspian, would be a surprise to the Telmarines.

Jaelyn had kept her nose in her infernal book since their argument yesterday. Nothing he said to her provoked a response. She wrote, or studied the inscriptions in all the How's rooms, or spoke with Cornelius. Even Caspian. That grated. It grated even more that it did grate on him.

Back to business. He owed it to Caspian to provide the best possible attention to his combat training. And he certainly ought not to have been bothered if she chose to smile and laugh at Caspian when he stumbled over a stone, as if the two of them shared a joke. The Telmarine prince seemed to have grown fond of Jaelyn in Silas's absence yesterday.

Fine, then. It bothered him. It bothered him enough that he decided the best use of his irritation was to redouble his efforts at pressing Caspian harder. The young prince answered Silas's unspoken challenge gamely, even though he was panting and sweating and tired. He would make a fine king.

During a lull, Silas sat with Caspian on a rough-hewn stone bench. Silas produced a handful of silvery birch leaves. "If it comes to it, and Miraz catches you off guard, you're to throw these in his face and say, Kieranti a'kashti. Got that? Caspian?"

Caspian had paused, eyes closed, breathing heavily. At Silas's prodding, he snapped his eyes open and focused on the handful of leaves spinning slowly in Silas's palm. "Magic? Is that not cheating?"

"It's going to be part of your arsenal, the same as your knife, or the swordplay I'm teaching you. My father has used it, and he's not a being of magic, either." Silas held out his hand. "Don't fool yourself. Miraz would use any advantage he has, as long as he can best you with it. Say it with me. Kieranti a'kashti."

"Kee-ran..."

"It's important you get this right, or it won't work. Roll the "R." Put emphasis on the last part of each word." Silas said it again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jaelyn's head come up from her books and papers. She watched them sidelong, with a curious look in her eye. Silas transferred the leaves to Caspian's palm, where they settled into a little pile. "Go on, try again."

Caspian hesitated only a second before responding. "Kieranti a'kashti."

The little handful of leaves spun upward, whirling around Caspian, sending sparks of light dancing across the cavern ceiling. The Telmarine prince grinned, a look of wonder on his face.

Silas chuckled. "Pretty, yes. And distracting. A good way to buy yourself some time and distance, if things get too close-quartered. They'll go wherever you direct them with a wave of your hand. To call them back, just open your palm and say, a'kashti."

Caspian made the response, and when the leaves settled back into his palm, Silas gestured for him to put them in a pouch on his belt. Caspian did so, then met Silas's eyes. "Thank you."

With a grin of his own, Silas stood. "Thank me by living through this."

- # -

That evening, Jaelyn was in what passed for her room while she was here, sanding the ink on a last page to dry it before bed. The little pewter pounce pot shone in the candlelight, reminding her of the glimmering leaves Silas had given to Caspian.

She studied her handiwork. This page was part of the history she'd written, of course ... but it was much more personal to her than dusty old words and pictures from happenings long ago and far away. She'd given him an entire page, for goodness's sake.

It was Silas, of course, with that little whirlwind of leaves around him, looking regal and confident and wise and ...

... and untouchable.

"How is it progressing?" asked a voice.

Startled, Jaelyn put the book down. Caspian stood in the entrance to her chamber with a curious look. He gestured to the book with a smile.

"Oh ... very well, thank you, Your Highness. Is something wrong?" she added, wondering why he'd trouble to visit her.

"I have come with a request." He gestured for her to approach him, clearly not wanting to intrude on her bedchamber.

She carefully put the book out of sight, somehow self-conscious of that very personal illustration of Silas. "How may I help you, sire?"

"That is just it," Caspian said with a smile. "You have been of help, and a great deal of it. Your master at Anvard must be very proud of you."

The thought of Rune, grouchy old Rune, brought a smile to Jaelyn's lips. "I would like to think so," she said with humor in her voice. The humor faded as she wondered what he must be facing now, and whether Miraz's army had yet advanced on the castle.

"I have no wish to steal you from your home," Caspian said, "but if all goes well with ..."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I would like to offer you a place in my court. As my personal scribe."

Her jaw dropped.

"I saw your work in the first book you created. Doctor Cornelius has read a great many texts, and yours is among the finest he's seen. He says you have a gift for storytelling."

"It's not talent, so much as the material itself," she protested. "Anyone could do it, with enough patience."

"I think you underestimate your skill," Caspian said, then he smiled. "But I am certain the subject matter was of great interest."

She blushed, and Caspian grinned wider. "Have you eaten, or were you ignoring the need in favor of your histories again?"

"I'm ... Actually, I'm starving."

"Good. It happens I am in possession of some roast mutton that needs eating, and there might be a pot of chocolate as well," he added with a teasing smile.

She smiled back, and as they left Jaelyn's chamber, they passed a group of dryads gathered around Silas. Caspian nodded to him, and Silas nodded back.

Jaelyn couldn't meet his eyes, thinking of the illustration she'd made in the book, and how it did so little justice to the man standing across the way. Rune had been right. Her work was without heart, without feeling ... until now.

"Not to turn your attention back to your work," Caspian said casually, "but Doctor Cornelius will be joining us. He has a few ideas for returning Prince Silas to his time."

Jaelyn's head snapped up. She stared at Caspian with unseemly and unprepared alarm.

The look in the young prince's eyes softened. He seemed to understand her agitation. "We both know he does not belong here, and that he must return to his home," Caspian said gently. "I do not want to tell him, yet, and raise his hopes without cause. But I thought you might want to know. And I want you to know, also, that no matter what happens, Jaelyn, you have a friend in me."

She marshaled a return smile. "I thank you, Your Highness."

- # -

Silas finished his discussion with the dryads, who returned for the night to their trees outside the How. They would warn those who worked or slumbered inside if any of the Telmarines approached overnight, though Silas doubted Miraz would try to attack. The arrogant Lord Protector believed all would be settled on single combat with what he thought to be an inexperienced youngster. Caspian was a fast learner, and brave, and eager to better himself.

And, more importantly, human.

A fist knotted Silas's insides. That again.

But Jaelyn belonged with humans, as he belonged with the dryads. Silas sensed that Caspian admired Jaelyn's courage and her desire to be of help. She would do well with such a friend. And if more came of it ...

Well, Jaelyn was not a courtier, but she was beautiful, and strong-hearted as a stalwart aspen. If Caspian had any sense whatsoever, he would not let such a woman get away from him, no matter what conventions might hold in this time for marriage between a king and common folk.

And many of the dryads of this time were beautiful themselves. Silas wondered if Selbaran across the sea contained any dryads still. No one had been able to tell him. If he must remain here, to Selbaran he must go.

As he returned to his own chamber for the night, he tried hard to ignore the small voice inside him, telling him that he could not force a love where love did not—would not—exist.