CHAPTER 21: Task Force Castle

D-day.

Several decades after the Great War (that is World War 2), when people say D-day, they often refer to the day when U.S. forces dropped the A-bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Of course, that happened years after Nia's adventures in that magical chest. And so, D-day meant quite differently to Nia. For her, D-day meant Disagreeable Day, or Defeat Day, or even Death Day…

But Nia's D-day was today. Now.

It was still dark when Fenrir and Gawgon assembled the entire forces of Harfang outside her gates As she watched Fenrir and Gawgon depart with their (admittedly VERY large) army, she wanted to throw up. Now, an hour later, she looked at the teeny fraction that was left to her, and felt like committing suicide.

They about a thousand hundred or so, consisting of dozens of disgruntled dwarves and some giants who weren't large enough to fight with the main army, and hundreds of Snow Tigers (which resemble the Bengali ones here in our world) and inky-black panthers and some minotaurs…

Nia was thankful Reginbrik and his crew was there. They helped ease the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Reginbrik smiled at her from his position at the head of the column. Toulouse pawed the ground beside her nervously, Misters Tumnus and Beaver both shifted their feet (and flippers) uneasily, and Bree whinnied as a marsh boggle strapped on his saddle. "Task Force Castle" (or "TFC", as Toulouse and Nia called them) had little or no armor on them. The ironsmiths in Harfang produced enough for the main army, but little could be spared for Nia and her fellows – she refused to think of them as her troops – in TFC. They had to make do with the few surpluses that had been made. Reginbrik and his crew managed to replace all the Harfang arrows, helmets, and axes with special, zinc-coated Aslium ones without anyone noticing. Nia herself wore no armor except a breastplate made of Aslium specially designed for her. Her sword hung on her side, and her archery set was slung over her shoulders. She wished her three-day training would be enough to keep her alive. She was a good fencer and a decent archer back in America, but that was quite different. The archery targets there didn't move, and the swords there were flimsy rapiers with rounded points.

"Where are those Vultures, anyway?" Toulouse grumbled at her feet. Mister Tumnus gave a nervous twitch, and Bree shuddered.

Oh, yes, the Vultures. They acted as lookouts and flew ahead to Cair Paravel and out into the sea to get a glimpse of their enemies. They were nice, really, except that they made everyone else uneasy. Where Vultures were, death was sure to follow. Nia wanted to drive the Calormenes away, not turn Cair Paravel into a slaughterhouse.

A black speck suddenly appeared in the sky, growing larger and larger, until Nia saw the silhouette of a large bird. The She-vulture perched on a dead tree to Nia's right and waited for her to say something, eyeing her intently with those beady eyes.

Nia fought the urge to swallow and said, "Tell us what you've seen, Olga."

"My kin and I have seen fifty ships under the banner of Tash, Milady," the Vulture replied in a rasping voice. "With approximately fifty men each."

"How many are the Defenders in the Castle?"

"About a thousand, Milady."

Nia bit back the urge to tell Olga to stop calling her Milady, but there was no use. She would keep on using that, anyway. The funny thing was, the Harfangers Fenrir put under her command never showed sarcasm to their young commander. Nia expected veiled criticisms from them, but so far, they respected her. If they weren't happy with their assignments, they didn't show it. Many wore perpetually disgruntled looks, to be sure, but they were that way before they were assigned to TFC.

Nia went back to the problem at hand. There would be two thousand Defenders once Nia combined her forces with the actual castle defenders, but they were still outnumbered by a good five hundred men, all of them extremely well trained in the arts of war. She'd seen the Calormene camp in Narnia, so she had some idea of what the battle, both the main one and the "side battle" would be like. It wasn't a pretty picture.

"Have you seen any non-Calormene ships coming, Olga?"

"Yes. About ten ships bearing the flag of a Bear."

"That's Archenland!" Mister Tumnus whispered.

"Yes, but how many men each?" asked Nia.

"There are about twenty men per ship, Milady."

Two thousand four hundred in all, then. But those men would come from the sea, and the only thing they would be able to do is fire arrows from their ships. Nia suggested they call the kraken and sink all Calormene ships, but Mister Tumnus said that the kraken live in the wide oceans in the east, far away from land. The merpeople were included in the one thousand Castle Defenders and…

"Who is in command of the Castle Defenders, then?"

"Queen Susan, Milady."

"Olga," Nia paused for a while, thinking of what she ought to do. "Tell your fellow Vultures to assist the Archenlanders in any way possible, and defer to the Lady Aravis – she is dark-skinned but she's one of us. Thank you, that will be all."

The She-vulture spread her great wings and flew away. Nia's troops stared balefully at her.

"Say something," Bree neighed softly in her ear. "They're expecting you to."

"Many of you probably don't know me," she said loudly, taking a deep breath. "I'm Nia Evenshire – call me Nia. I know I'm (very) young and inexperienced. You probably know a lot more about what we're going to do, than I do." At this, she gave a rather weak sort of laugh. TFC stared blankly at her. "I know," she plowed on, "some of us will probably die this day, and I know it would be very idealistic of me to think we're all going to survive." Still more stares. "In a few moments, we're going to ride to Cair Paravel. You aren't exactly excited to meet the Beasts there, aren't you? But we have to fight our very best, to maintain our freedom. Do you know what the Calormenes do to Talking Beasts and Giants and Dwarves?" Honestly, Fenrir should've given her a happier lot. This was getting ridiculous! "They capture people like you and put them on cages for them to look and laugh at, and they enslave people like me. Now, we don't want that, do we?" More silence. She gave up. These people were hopeless!

"No we don't!" Reginbrik said at the top of his voice (which was really tiny and high-pitched).

"No we don't!" chorused his crew.

"Down with the Calormenes!" one of the giants roared.

"Down with the invaders!" several of the TFC soldiers chanted in unison.

"For Narnia and for Aslan!" others shouted. Nia soon realized it was the traditional Narnian battle chant, and the leader of the army yelled it before they went to battle. But then, she didn't feel like a leader. Fenrir put her up to this. And the idiot had the gall to say Peter ordered it so! Peter would never do that! Nia wasn't fooled for a moment. He was just fibbing, probably to appease her.

"Let's go!" she said, and waited as the foot soldiers (which included the dwarves, boggles, Mister Tumnus, and Beaver) mounted the Panthers and Snow Tigers. Then, she mounted Bree, faced to the southeast, where Cair Paravel lay, and shouted, "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

"For Narnia and for Aslan," the army chorused back with surprising gusto. They didn't want to be enslaved – they were free Narnians, after all. And they travelled as fast as they could, the giants bringing up the rear, to Cair Paravel.

Cor's so-called navy was only a few hours away from Cair Paravel, and Aravis still had no clue as to what they were supposed to be doing, except fire arrows and throw stones. The merpeople would help, to be sure, but they were too… few. They had no communication with anyone for more than five days now, and she was growing increasingly nervous with every passing minute. She hoped the early morning fog hid them from the Calormenes' view.

"Lass," said Alf, looking up the early morning sky, "look up."

Aravis did, and saw rings of large birds, about fifty or so, circling the sky above King Lune. "Those aren't eagles, aren't they?"

"No, m'lady. They're Vultures – scavengers," Alf said, still looking up. They thrive on battlefields, where it is sure many people would die. They just watch, and then eat the slain once the battle's over. Their presence is not a very good omen."

A Vulture flew from the north to the circle, and the entire flock paused from their flight.

"They're talking!" Aravis exclaimed in surprise.

"Aye, they're Talking Beasts. No one knows where they nest."

The very same bird who had approached the flock now descended to the ship, and landed neatly on the railings. Several of the sailors gave a start.

"Worry not," said the Vulture, taking Aravis in with beady eyes. "I presume you are the Lady Aravis? Good. We are from Harfang. The Lady Nia ordered us to help you in your part in the battle. We are under your command."

Wait… Nia ordered the Vultures to defer to her? So Nia already held a certain degree of power… She must've convinced the people of Ettinsmoor to fight for Narnia! Aravis bit back the urge to laugh semi-hysterically.

"We're still a few hours away from Cair Paravel," she said calmly. "Summon your chieftains – or whatever you call them. We have a lot to discuss."

"You're sweating like a pig," Edmund told Peter as he rode to his position beside his elder brother at the head of the army.

"Of course he is," said his Horse, Philip. "He's wearing armor."

"I'm not sweating."

"You just wore yours. He's been wearing it for hours."

"We may lose today, Ed," Peter said quietly. "They're too many."

Sure enough, the plains several meters away from them looked like an ocean of orange, with orange banners dotting here and there, and the occasional black…

"Of course we won't!" Philip neighed, sounding like someone who wanted to convince himself. Peter wished his Unicorn, Leif, could talk. But of course, Unicorns couldn't talk. The only un-Horsey thing they could do was healing wounds by crying over them. Oh, and goring their enemies with their horns, too.

"Fenrir and the other Harfangers agreed to fight for us," said Edmund with forced cheerfulness. "These Calormenes are as good as dead. So relax, Pete. The battle's ours."

"I hope so," said Peter, looking at the ocean of orange in front of him. "I hope so."

"It will be as agreed, Fenrir," whispered Gawgon as the Harfang army stopped just out of sight from the Narnian army, concealed by the forest. "Our army shall be divided into two, and we shall hide in the trees on the flanks of the enemy, and, together with the the High King, King Edmund, and King Cor of Archenland, we shall crush the Calormenes."

"Position our soldiers, Gawgon," said Fenrir. "Lupus and I shall ride into battle behind Aslan's banner."

Gawgon and the rest of the army then went to their positions farther afield. The battlefield was surrounded on all sides by forests, which was lucky since it avoided premature detection.

"Sir," said Lupus rather hesitantly as Fenrir made his horse (not a Talking Beast, mind you) face south, in the direction of the Narnian army, "what will you say to King Peter?"

"About what?"

"About the Lady Nia, sir. He doesn't know about her leading the Task Force Castle."

Fenrir felt a stab of guilt at this. He had to protect his power, and he did, if by rather dubious means. He made Nia the commander of Task Force Castle against his better judgement because that was what Gawgon and the others wanted. Nia was so inexperienced, everyone was sure she would die almost at the onset of the battle. Fenrir remembered the High King's face when he asked about Nia. Peter was in love with her; it was so obvious. Peter knew nothing of what Nia was about to do; Fenrir made sure of that by keeping the Mirror. And he'd told Nia that Peter wanted her to command so she wouldn't blame him completely.

Not that he'd fooled her. He should've known Nia completely trusted Peter. He'd never seen anyone bestow another with such level of trust.

Oh, wait, he had. Queen Swanwhite and King Thorn trusted him not just with their lives, but also with their kingdom. But what did he do?

Fenrir shook his head. It was time to stop killing himself over that affair. "We tell him the truth." And with that, he heeled horse and trotted towards Kings Peter and Edmund.

"Yes, we get it," said Cor, shaking hands (or paws, rather) with one of the Wolves. "We'll wait for King Peter to shout his battle cry, then. Yes, thank you very much." Harfang's army sent two Wolves to the Archenlanders to inform them of the final battle plan. Cor liked the idea of trapping the infernal Calormenes to their deaths. He could still hear his family's screams as the warriors of Tisroc brought them to their deaths…

Oh, yes, vengeance was – and still is - a very good motivator. He would avenge his father and mother, and his twin, Corin…

"A good warrior is a calm warrior, sire," Sir Thom whispered in his ear as they went back to their positions, crouching in the forest.

"What?"

"I saw the expression on your face – don't take me wrong, I understand why. Don't let your emotions rule you. An angry warrior is a reckless warrior, sire. We can't afford to lose you. Take a deep breath… Relax."

Cor nodded and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Thom."

He ordered the entire army to stand up and start shaking their arms and legs. Anytime now they would be called into battle… Anytime now… Cor shook his legs gingerly and winced.

"Cor, we must hurry up!" Hwin said urgently. "The Narnians will give their battle cry anytime now." As if he didn't know that. He shook his arms and legs more vigorously, jumped up and down (the rest of the army imitated him) and mounted Hwin.

Far off, they all heard someone yell ("Probably King Peter," whispered Hwin) "FOR NARNIA AND FOR ASLAN!!!"

Cor drew his sword, pointed it northward, and he and his army galloped into the battle.

When Task Force Castle arrived at the scene, the battle had already started. Nia could see that some of the Calormene soldiers were already on the beach. The Defenders were putting up a good fight, though. Arrows tipped with fire were shooting out of the castle itself. Some of the giants said that the Archenlanders were systematically sinking enemy ships.

But the enemy was simply too many. The Defenders were slowly retreating.

"Let's go!" Nia yelled to TFC, and they ran into the fray.

Peter swung his sword left and right, cleaving a path of blood and hewn body parts. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he parried blows from the enemy. He'd lost sight of Edmund and Fenrir the moment the battle started, but that didn't matter. He knew Edmund was an excellent swordsman (I – the narrator – am using the term in a broader sense here; Edmund was only 13), and Fenrir had a reputation as a ruthless warrior. Doubtless they would both survive. Peter felt a surge of anger. Fenrir… The accursed man had put Nia in danger! He beheaded a Calormene soldier with a single blow, spraying blood on his face.

The Archenlanders hemmed in the Calormenes from the South, and the Harfangers under the giant King Gawgon trapped them from the sides. The enemy was trapped, and they knew it, so they struck back with the ferocity of a man with nothing to lose.

What… was that Cor? Peter saw the Archenlander king dueling with a large Calormene on foot. And then a mare kicked the Calormene from behind, killing him instantly. From the corner of his eye, he saw a blade swinging in his direction and hastily blocked it.

He hoped Nia was doing fine. If Nia were killed in battle, he would personally kill Fenrir, and Gawgon, and all the others who put her there. By the Lion, he would!

Nia had to give the Harfangers credit; they were more than a match for the Calormenes. The dwarves struck the enemies' feet and the Panthers and Snow Tigers attacked with unequaled ferocity. The giants plucked several Calormenes at a time, swung them around, and threw them into the far seas. As the combined forces of TFC and the castle defenders forced them to pull back, the retreating Calormenes found all their ships sunk by the Archenland navy and a large flock of Vultures. Nia's arm was more than tired from using that infernal sword! She was lucky it was lighter than ordinary steel, but she'd been using it for what seemed like ages! She silently thanked Fenrir for the crash course in swordsmanship. It was the only reason she was still alive.

Suddenly, a tall, dark, and very scary Calormene with a scar running from his temple down to his left ear loomed in front of her.

"Why my pretty," he said menacingly, "why are you here? This is no place for little girls."

"I'm here," she replied, sounding a lot braver than she felt. "Nothing you can do about that."

"Well then," shrugged the Calormene. "I'm very sorry to be cutting your life short, but a man has to do what he has to do." And with that, he swung his scimitar towards here. He was quick, and there was a lot of energy with that blow. Nia blocked him just in time. As they continued to duel, Nia felt her energy draining. The man was unrelenting! He swung; she rolled on the ground to avoid it.

Nia was too tired to fight decently. She just kept rolling and blocking. Her head was pounding and her breathing grew ragged.

A black blur appeared out of nowhere and bit at the Calormene's throat. And then, a sword suddenly pierced through his chest. The Calormene emitted a gurgling sound and then collapsed to reveal Aravis, looking extremely vicious with a bloody sword in her hand, and Toulouse, sitting on her shoulder.

"We won, Nia!" Toulouse was shouting. "We won!"

"We've won" Aravis piped in excitedly.

She raised her head a bit and saw Narnians jumping up and down, often tripping on Calormene corpses; she saw Tigers and Snow Tigers high-fiving each other. She saw Mister Tumnus and Beaver running to her, together with Susan and Lucy.

"We've won," she said weakly. "We've won…"

And with that, everything went black.

END OF CHAPTER