19. – Wolves of Hunger
"This here is about souls," Midwinter said, fingertips resting against the cool surface of the rock. "It's old. Part of the ancient magics, but it is about life and spirit."
Rikeety's ears perked and his tail lifted into the air, as Lucy rose from the base of the table to join Midwinter by its head.
"May I see?" she asked, hope almost breaking her voice.
Midwinter moved a step to the side, gesturing at what he had found. It was hard to see clearly, but it seemed an image of a faun and a nagia. The nagia was a woman with a snake's bottom half instead of legs, and a creature Lucy had not seen since her reign thousands of years ago. Between them, almost like a crack in the stone, was a golden line of lightning. It twined around their bodies, something tender about it.
"What is this?" Lucy whispered, touching the gold.
"It is some kind of ceremony," Midwinter said hesitantly. "Or at least I think so. The gold traditionally represents souls, and this- I think it is akin to a marriage of spirit. Something to tie the Old Narnians together, in pairings across species."
"Tied together." Lucy repeated the words, tasted them on her tongue, as she tried to grasp the meaning behind that. "So a soul untethered might be tied to this country."
"To another soul," Midwinter corrected. "But yes. That might be a possibility- Unless your soul would simply tear the other one loose to follow you to the land of Aslan. I am not a full shaman, and this, this is too uncertain for me to be sure of how your soul would react." He pawed at the rock floor with one hoof. "Besides, this does not show the elements of the ritual. Simply that it exists."
A loud screech echoed down the tunnels, being thrown across the stones and surrounding them. It sounded like a bird in immense pain and fear.
Already Rikeety was on his paws, running headfirst down the hollows, rapier in hand. Midwinter galloped behind him, pulling the claymore from his back as he did, and Lucy ran to catch up. The mouse and centaur lowered their pace so as not to leave her behind. Still, they almost fell out into the moonlight, and the sight that met them there.
A young gryphon, one front leg pressed protectively against its chest, reared on its hind paws and beat its wings to keep an attacker at bay. On her back, for it was indeed female, they saw a young New Narnian holding on for dear life. What horrified them the most, and stopped Lucy in her tracks, her knife suddenly heavy in her hand, was that the attackers were not enemies.
They were Narnians.
A fox with blood on its teeth, snarled at the gryphon, ears pressed down. Beside it, two dwarves shouted as they help up wooden clubs, and even a squirrel hissed angrily from the black-haired dwarf's shoulder.
"Just give us your food!" they shouted. "We know you have it!"
The gryphon shook her head, flexing the talons on her unharmed front leg angrily.
"We don't have any to give!" she screeched. "No more than the bread and cheese we already gave! Now leave! We do not want to harm you!"
Lucy stepped clear of Rikeety and Midwinter, holding her head high as she regarded them.
"Do as she says," she commanded. "You are outnumbered."
Everyone turned their heads to look at her, except the gryphon who kept her eyes on the attackers. The black-haired dwarf made a face at her, raising his club.
"By a wounded gryphon, a man tied to her back, a mouse, a foal and a noble woman?" he growled. "I don't care you've got a number on us, we'll kill you if you don't give us everything!"
"You are addressing Queen Lucy the Valiant!" Rikeety objected indignantly. "And you will adjust your tone accordingly!"
"Or what?" the squirrel shouted.
"Or we will adjust it for you," said Mecheep, as the rest of Lucy's mice guards stepped out from among the bushes, followed by Willowispila on her white stag and the doctors. The Old Narnians drew back, the fox's tail swinging in between its legs. And yet the rage and greed did not dissipate from their eyes. "Put down your weapons and lie stomach down on the ground. You are hereby taken into custody in the name of the Crown."
Slowly the Old Narnians did as they were told, their eyes black and filled with hatred.
A shiver ran down Lucy's back, her hands shaking at the sight.
.o.O.o.
Rocks slid beneath the unicorn's hooves as Goldspear made a power leap to get off them before it was too late. The muscles beneath Edmund clenched as the stallion made it up the cliff, and finally found sure footing once more.
"Careful," Edmund said, resting a hand against Goldspear's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
They had been trying to cross up the rocky mountain side for hours, but it was a slow track, and he worried for the unicorn's legs. Some of the jumps were too far for him to make on his own feet, but for those he could, he climbed himself. As they travelled, they spoke of many things or simply shared silence. Edmund had told the unicorn more tales of back when he ruled over Narnia with his siblings, and of Lucy, and Goldspear had in turn described what it had been like, growing up in a herd of unicorns in the Lantern Waste.
"I'm fine," Goldspear told him, breathing heavily. "I'll just need a rest after this next one, once we reach some place we can sleep."
Another few steps, and a galloping leap up the vertical cliffside later, and Goldspear managed to get them to a ledge wide enough for them to stop and settle. The unicorn lowered his head to the ground, breathing heavily. Edmund ran his hands over the stallion's legs, making sure none of them held inflamed heat or signs of harm.
"How in the world did Lucy…?" he muttered to himself, looking at the terrible rockface surrounding them. He saw no way his sister could have made the journey, alone and with no proper gear. As he remembered their packs, he hurried to find their blankets, and put them over Goldspear before the unicorn could catch a chill. Himself he wrapped in his warm cloak as he distributed food and water between them. The ledge was too small for them to risk lighting a fire for the night.
Instead they huddled together, sharing what warmth they had.
"I thought about what you said," Goldspear told him once they had regained a bit of strength. Edmund had offered to take first watch, so that the unicorn could sleep, but Goldspear had instead lain in quiet contemplation. "About how it is only just that we get a chance to fix what mistakes we might have made- And I thought about how Queen Lucy is the one who gave me that chance. I was dying when the badgers brought her to me, that I know."
Edmund listened respectfully, knowing full well how difficult a subject it was to speak about.
"Lucy would not think you owed her anything," Edmund told him. "And even if she did, she would believe it more than paid, by how you've served her since."
Goldspear nodded as only equines know how to, his mane falling in front of one eye.
"And yet, it does not feel paid for yet. Perhaps there is still some test awaiting me. Something I need to do, before I can honestly believe I have repaid that debt and reclaimed my honour. Before I can truly claim a new name for myself."
Edmund turned that over in his head.
"That is your decision," he said softly. "And I can see why you do no longer feel the name Goldspear suits, but know this- I do believe you are trustworthy. I would like to call you a friend."
The unicorn was silent for the longest time, and Edmund would have thought him asleep, had his breathing not been the same.
Finally, Goldspear answered him, with a soft whinny to his words.
"I would be honoured."
.o.O.o.
The large polar bear roared its rage at her, as Oakrynai tore free her oaken spear from its chest. Standing on two legs, the beast fell backwards, so black dwarves had to roll aside, so as not to be crushed. Quickly she raised the weapon again- Already a wolf jumped her, fangs slamming around the shaft.
Oakelaere's mistletoe arrows slammed into the wolf's side, and it too fell to the ground. Another set of arrows dispatched the black dwarves, allowing the dryads a respite.
Oakrynai had worked out the schedule for the dryads' patrols with the generals and King Caspian, and had set her warriors to effective work. As creatures who looked like trees, the Witche's bands rarely saw them before they struck.
This night, they had prevented a small group from digging wolf pits- dangerous holes in the ground, which would have been filled with stakes and hidden beneath a thin cover of hide and forest debris. Deadly for any who stepped onto it unaware.
Elmiriam laid a hand on Oakrynai's shoulder. The young elm had rough green hair, as spiked as the leaves on her tree, and sharp eyes.
She pointed ahead, to a hill in the distance.
Flags rose above it, marked with the icy crown of the White Witch, as slowly an army rose above it.
The time for respite was over, the second grand battle of the Ice Wars about to break loose.
Oakrynai signalled the dryads in silence, as they melted off in between the slumbering trees. Caspian would need to know, and right away.
.o.O.o.
Lucy tied off the bandage on Gerife´s leg, making sure it was secure, before stepping back. She sighed tiredly, the night's activities starting to catch up with her.
The captives were kept under guard, hobbled by ropes around hands and feet, or paws as it were for some of them. The Mice kept a vigilant eye on them. As was good, Lucy thought with a shiver, for they were being eerily quiet, and they kept staring hungrily at them all.
"There," she said. "That should keep it clean and stay any bleeding. There was no harm to the muscle, it seemed, so you should be able to make a launch into the air when needed."
Gerife nodded gratefully and made a clicking noise with her beak.
"Thank you," the gryphon hissed. "Now I must simply await Salden's return."
The young New Narnian man had gone with Midwinter into the How to seek any kind of myths or relics related to the Ettinsmoore. Gerife had told them how they had been chosen for this mission, because the Witch was moving her troops, as if in search.
Lucy smiled, turning her head to where Willowispila was standing beside her stag. The dryad must be one of the eldest living beings in Narnia, as far as Lucy knew. If anybody would know about the ritual of tying two souls together, it would be her.
"Willowispila," she called. "May I talk with you for a bit?"
The Willow turned her black eyes towards Lucy and nodded slowly. Lucy stepped towards her, meaning to walk a bit away from the rest of their group, to talk in private.
Pain shot through her body before she could.
Lucy gritted her teeth to keep from screaming, fighting not to pass out, as her hands spasmed, and her legs collapsed beneath her. She managed to stay somewhat upright, as she staggered to her knees, falling forward to catch herself on her hands.
Surprised and scared shouts sounded, as people rushed towards her. Mice was up on their toes, ears turned out trying to catch sight, sound and scent of the threat.
But there was no threat, just the terror of Lucy's time running out.
Willowispila leaned down to grasp her hands and help her to her feet. A soft hum sounded from her lips, barely enough to be heard, and yet it soothed the Queen. Lucy fought to hold back tears, as the dryad put her arms around her, supporting her long enough for a doctor to bring her one of the fold-out chairs brought for the journey. Lucy sank into it gratefully, as Rikeety brought her a waterskin.
The cold water helped somewhat.
The doctors and mice was a mess for a time, and only Lucy insisting that there was nothing they could do, several times, finally calmed them down.
Willowispila turned her eerie eyes on them and told them in a whisper: "If we are to bring help to Cair Paravel tomorrow, we must sleep." And Lucy wondered at how the Willow could speak at a whisper and still be heard.
Lucy looked from her hands to the Weeping Willow.
"I don't think I can, right now," she said quietly, vaguely aware that the rest of the camp was moving to make an attempt.
The willow waited silently, and Lucy sighed, moving to sit by the fire. There she settled in to await sleep, trying to relax. She still wanted to talk to the Weeping Willow, but as soon as the warmth of the bonfire started seeping into her, her eyelids grew heavier.
She fell asleep fast.
.o.O.o.
Salden finished another sketch of one of the wall paintings within the How. He carefully rolled it up so as not to unsettle the coal and smudge it, before placing it in the satchel Sergeant Harrod had given him.
"I can't find any others," Midwinter told him, the centaur lifting up a torch to give them a better view. "But if what you're looking for is there, my father should be able to find it from your drawings."
The young man rose.
"I'm sure the Shaman will," he said respectfully. He looked slightly bewildered and uncomfortable about the whole thing. "I cannot."
Midwinter smiled at him, trying to set him at ease.
"You are not entirely used to Old Narnians, are you?" he asked.
Salden shrugged and looked away.
"You all used to be fairytales to me," he said. "We, New Narnians, did not believe you to exist any longer, not for a hundred years. My mother used to scare my siblings and I with tales of dwarves who would steal us, if we did not act right. And then, out of nowhere, the fairytales become real, as our prince is first declared dead, then becomes King as his uncle is killed in battle." They continued their way through the tunnels, towards the exit. Centaur and human. "Our culture is changed in a span of a few short years. Suddenly animals can talk and think. Women can fight and govern." Salden sighed. "It can be… overwhelming, when you were raised in one world, to suddenly find yourself in another."
Midwinter considered it.
"I can see that," he agreed. "I was still a foal when the war happened, but I am old enough to remember. When I grew up, we had to hide from all sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. I was not allowed to gallop through open fields, but had to stay within the Lantern Waste and the great forests, always with my own people." He looked embarrassed, as he smiled at Salden. "Sometimes it still feels wrong to be out in the open," he admitted.
Salden allowed the surprise at the Centaur's words to wash over him, offering a tentative smile in return.
"This is a strange world, is it not?" he asked, hesitant humour in the quirk of his lips.
"Strange indeed," Midwinter agreed.
They re-joined the others by the bonfires, only to find that none but the guards were awake. The willow dryad had taken root and was almost returned to her tree form, reaching for the sky with slender branches.
A great feathered pile moved softly as the gryphon breathed steadily in and out. One ear tuft whipped through the air as they neared, and the feathers started to move. Gerife rose, clearly drowsy from her nap, and unsteady on both paws and talons. She shook her feathers out and stretched her wings, yawning wildly. Her ear tufts swung up to attention however, as she saw Salden.
"You are done?" she asked.
Salden nodded, hesitating to sit down by the fire, but Gerife gestured for him to do so. Midwinter folded his legs beneath him, before tumbling to one side and resting comfortable, back against the ground. He winked at Salden before closing his eyes.
"I need to wake up," she told him. "Wake up and warm up- I will go for a walk, and work my wings. We can fly when I return."
"As long as you are able," Salden said. "I would not wish you any harm."
Gerife gave him her most cheeky gryphon grin.
"I am very able," she told him, as she walked off. Her tail swung mischievously behind her.
Salden relaxed by the fire, picking apart a roll and putting small pieces of bread to his lips. He found himself watching the sleeping Queen. Watched how her hair fell softly around her face, relaxed in slumber and dreams, peaceful.
She had strode onto the battlefield, he remembered. Bringing healing and hope, and then she had asked him to watch a boiling cauldron, giving him something to focus on. Something else to see, rather than the fighting which had played on the inside of his eyelids.
He took a paper from the satchel, placing it atop the drawing board, as he brought out his coal. With the fast and sure movements of a trained artist, he started drawing, capturing the shapes, one by one. Only when he heard Gerife return, did he roll up the paper and place it together with the rest of them in the satchel. He would remove it once they returned to the Castle of the Telmar Kings.
"Ready?" the gryphon asked him softly.
Salden nodded.
"We should hurry," he said, and helped tighten her girdle before crawling up into the saddle. He had to bend over to strap himself in.
Rikeety watched them as they did, paw on his belt.
"Tell her Majesty thank you for the aid, and give her our excuses that we did not wait for her to wake. Our mission was to go with all speed-"
"And she needs the rest," Rikeety agreed. "I will deliver both thanks and apologies. May the wind be kind and your journey swift."
"Thank you," Gerife said, and lowering herself on her haunches, she launched herself into the air.
On the far horizon, the first light of dawn coloured the sky a sickly green.
.o.O.o.
Lucy was awakened by Rikeety gently placing a paw on her shoulder. She sat up, and accepted the mug of tea he pressed into her hands, before he jumped to extinguish the last of the fire. His fur was mat, and his whiskers drooped- she doubted he had slept at all.
"Rikeety," she called softly. "Sit down and eat something. That's an order."
The mouse sent her a glassy look, but then nodded, and did as he was told.
Midwinter stretched carefully, turning his human half around to limber up his spine. He shook his head in annoyance as he strapped on his claymore.
"Centaurs were not made for sleeping on the ground," he told them. "I didn't want to get my sleep-bundle, but I guess I'm getting too big to sleep like a foal."
"Sleep-bundle?" Lucy asked, curiously.
"Either a large pillow or a bundled-up pelt. It props up our human half, so they don't get tugged at by our equine parts all night," Midwinter explained. "Because our lower parts are so much wider than our upper, you see? Makes it difficult for us to sleep laying down- We can sleep standing up however, but it isn't quite as restful."
Lucy stood up and pulled her hair forward. She started threading through it with her fingers, removing the worst tangles from the night. Out the corner of her eyes, she noticed the captives moving. With a startled shout, she realized the fox had almost freed itself.
At the sound of her alarm, weapons were raised and people surged. Midwinter fumbled unsheathing his claymore, but managed as he turned to face the threat.
The fox bucked and crouched, having bitten through the ropes on his front paws, he managed to pull his hind legs free. Snarling, ears pressed to the back of his head, he leapt through the men and mice. Lucy barely managed to grab her knife and raise her arms before he was on her.
The fox slammed its teeth together less than an inch from Lucy's nose, as she fell backwards. Its claws dug into her arms and stomach as it clawed, trying to kill her, snarling so drool dripped against her face.
Midwinter stood frozen, eyes wide, claymore uselessly still in his hands.
As Lucy changed her grasp on her small dagger, the claymore fell to the ground, and Lucy wept as she shed Narnian blood.
The fox laid listlessly beside the fallen sword.