Chapter One
Aravis Tarkheena was in the possession of a dark secret.
The people of the kingdom of Archenland generally tended to consider their future king the finest warrior in all the land. She, however, knew the truth behind the matter; she alone, because while he would certainly never trip over his own two feet in front of his father's council, Prince Cor had a definite propensity to make spectacular feats of gracelessness whenever he was out of the immediate view of Very Distinguished Persons.
Of course, she was not the only one who had raised their eyebrows when, in a moment of distractedness, he once let a corner of the map he was holding dip into the flame of a nearby candle; or when he caught his toe on the edge of a carpet and knocked a laden serving table crashing to the floor; or when he slipped while climbing a muddy bank and brought half of King Lune's entourage rolling back down the slope with him. But Lune and his councilors liked to think that it was just a brief phase Cor was going through, and would certainly pass away after some time.
That considered, it had been a good ten months since Aravis had last seen Cor, and now she and her travel-dusted retinue were once again nearing the wide, green courtyard of the palace at Anvard. In a very few moments, Aravis would learn if Lune's prediction had come true or not: had Cor grown out of his clumsiness, or was he the same boy who fell up the stairs on his way to bid her farewell?
The sounds of approaching horses did not slow the calculated movements of two helmeted swordsmen that sparred on the green lawn. They made quite an interesting pair: a short and careful one and a taller, sturdy-limbed one with quick feet. (Aravis felt rather sorry for the smaller one; the bigger man seemed to be giving him quite the beating.) As for King Lune, fat and considerably more grey-bearded than Aravis remembered him being, he was settled into a cushy chair near the bubbling central fountain and watching the goings-on with animation and boyish glee, and Prince Corin (his face dirty and streaked with sweat) lounged on the ground nearby.
"Welcome back, milady Aravis," said a footman over the sounds of clashing steel, taking the reins of Aravis' horse.
"Thank you." Aravis accepted his hand and came down from the saddle, landing on the cobbled ground with a puff of yellow dust. "It is good to be back in Anvard. Though, I cannot say I missed this all this dreadful racket—tell me, who is fighting?"
"It is His Majesty Prince Cor and the Lord Darin," said the man, "They have been practicing their art all morning."
"Quite," said Aravis, thinking of all the irritated courtiers inside the castle with their fingers stuffed into their ears. "Well, take her away, and be sure to brush her well."
"Aye, milady."
As the footman led her mare away, Aravis flicked a hand to her retinue—a gaggle of giggly maids—and they followed him without much of a fuss. (Aravis had to wonder why now, of all times, they would cease complaining; all the way to Calavar and back it had been too hot, too cold, too sunny, too dark, too boring, too busy, too Calormene. She had been quite ready to run them all off a cliff somewhere.) But now she was finally back in Archenland, and she would only have to see the maids on occasion.
So she went towards Corin and Lune with that happy thought in mind. "I trust I find my lords well?" she said, kneeling in the grass at Lune's right hand.
"Indeed, indeed, Lady Aravis," said Lune. "But look upon Prince Cor! Has he not improved greatly?"
Aravis was quite used to the king's preoccupied manner of addressing her. However, she was not as impressed as he was at Cor's supposed skill; the youth didn't seem to have grown a single inch since she left, and he struggled to lift his shield as the taller Lord Darin hammered upon it. "Not that I can tell," she answered.
"Not that you can tell?" Lune blithered, finally turning to face her completely. "My lady Aravis, your time in Calormen has quite cobwebbed your brain!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, though, he paused, tweaked his beard, and then let out a great 'ha!' of laughter. "Why, Lady Aravis! Here you sit, still covered in the dust of Calormen, and I quite overlook your return! Oh, come here, my dear, and give me a kiss. That's a good girl. Your journey from Calavar was safe, I hope?"
"All too much so, my lord," Aravis responded, patting his fat hand. "I began to fear dying of boredom along the way."
"Nevertheless, I am glad you brought Lord Noll with you. Times are uneasy these days…"
"Aye. He was a great comfort to my maids, and Lady Noll especially enjoyed having him accompany her."
"Good, good. Corin, my son—get off your back and greet Aravis! It has been nigh a year since you last spoke to her."
Corin gave Lune a 'but Father, I want to watch the fight!' look, but sat up the rest of the way and nodded his head towards Aravis. "How d'you do, Aravis?"
"Well. And you?"
"Well. How was Calormen?"
"Oh," Aravis sighed, "hot, dusty, and stuffy, as usual."
"That's why Archenland is better," Corin said as if that settled it, and sat back.
Aravis rolled her eyes.
Soon after, Cor found himself backed against a stone support with Lord Darin's sword at his neck. Lune gave a shout, Aravis blushed for Cor's sake (a crown prince who can't hold his own against an aging lord? How embarrassing), and Corin jumped to his feet. Lord Darin stepped away from Cor, letting him come slowly away from the wall, and then gave a whoop, leapt in the air, and then promptly lost his balance and went clattering to the ground.
It was then that Aravis realized it had been Darin backed against the wall.
"I don't know what's happened," said the real Lord Darin mournfully as he pulled his helmet off to reveal a very red and sweaty face. "I remember a time I could have held off a youth His Majesty's age all morning."
"Ah, old friend," said Lune, rising to greet the man. "You performed excellently, as usual. You must remember that you are not as young as you used to be."
"Bah. I am still sprightly."
The men continued to discuss the match, but Aravis was now concentrating on Cor. With the help of Corin, he was scrambling to his feet and pulling off his helm, saying, "This blasted armor. Knocks me off balance every time I move."
"I would argue it is your own feet that do that," Aravis retorted, standing up and going over to them. "Most impressive."
"Aravis!" said Cor, freezing in place. "You're back!"
"Hello to you, as well."
"Well, hello. Now that that's out of the way, what did you think? I mean, besides the falling bit."
Aravis eyed him. It was not exactly in her nature to hand out compliments—he needed no help in getting a big head—but the fact remained that she was indeed pleasantly surprised at his new-found skill. He was still a rather funny-looking boy, though, with nose and ears that were growing faster than his angular face could keep up with for the time being. "Well," she said slowly, "I rather thought that you were Lord Darin, and Lord Darin was you. You've grown quite a lot."
"Father said I hit my stride this winter," said Cor proudly, drawing himself up. "See, Corin? I told you."
Corin grumbled. "I haven't got it with me."
"I want it by tonight."
"Or what? You'll knock me down?"
"Or I'll fall on you."
"Have you been betting again?" Aravis said. "You know your father—"
"It's only a small one," Cor interrupted. "Five gilds. That's all. I bet him that I would be taller than you by the time you returned. And am I, Corin?"
"Aye," Corin said begrudgingly, and then added in an undertone, "it's about time."
Despite herself, Aravis felt a bit pleased that she had not been entirely forgotten while she was gone. "Well, fine, then. But don't let Lune get wind of—"
"Get wind of what, my children?"
Lune had come up behind Aravis while she was speaking, and all three of them gave a little start. "Nothing, Father," Cor and Corin said in unison.
The old king may have been jolly, but he certainly was no fool, and he eyed them all with a piercing gaze. "I should hope not, for it certainly would be a shame to have to lock you all in your chambers again."
"Aye, Father."
"Good. Now, Aravis, dear…tell me, are you much exhausted from your journey? I know it was a lengthy one."
"Not terribly, sire," she answered. "But I am in need of a decent bath and change of clothes, I think."
"She smells like horse," said Corin.
"Shut up," said Cor.
"Quite understandable," Lune told her. "I shall have the bath tended to right away. But you know what this week is, of course?"
How could she forget? It was Cor and Corin's nineteenth birthday in just a few days, and, as Cor would be taking the throne on the eve of their twentieth, it was their last chance to celebrate a birthday together as twin princes of Archenland. (Apparently, as Cor's letters had told her, there were to be dances and feasts in abundance.) But, feeling a bit impish, she answered innocently, "No, what is it?"
The looks on the boys' faces were well worth it.
"It is that of my sons' birthday," Lune answered with a wink. "There is to be a special meeting of my council tonight after sup to discuss what that will entail for these rascals, and we had hoped you would arrive in time to attend."
"It would be an honor, I am sure," Aravis said. "I will be glad to."
"Very good. Now Cor, Corin, I think you ought to bathe, too. You smell worse than horses. Like perspiring horses. Or dead perspiring horses. Dead perspiring horses that have been lying around for days."
"But Father," Corin began.
"Oh, never mind that, Corin," Cor said. "Aravis, come upstairs with me. There's something I want to show you."
"'Please,'" said Aravis.
"Please."
"All right."
Cor gave his shield, sword, and helm to a nearby footman and led her from the courtyard into the cool, bright corridors of the palace itself. He walked quickly and with a purpose, and Aravis was proud to see him confidently step over thresholds and slightly upturned carpets.
"How was Calavar?" he asked her, sounding genuinely interested.
Aravis sighed. "Oh, all right, I suppose. My father's wedding went on as planned."
"And?"
"And, he and his new wife are happy enough together, I suppose. They were yet getting along when I left, and that had been two months since the union."
"How does your brother like his new stepmother?"
"He never particularly liked Darya to begin with, and Parvin has already given him his own pony and convinced our father to send him to Tashbaan for school, so he does seem to like her better."
Cor slowed his paces as they approached his chamber door. "But you are glad to be back in Anvard, yes?"
"Yes," she told him archly. "I was treated far too nicely in Calormen."
Grinning, Cor pushed his door open (it always tended to stick) and ushered her in. As much as their master had changed, Aravis had been expecting Cor's living quarters to have altered somewhat, as well; but nay, they were as cluttered as they had been when she left. Stacks of parchment littered the fine mahogany desk by the window, books sat neglected besides the bookcase, and halfway-melted candles sat on every level surface.
Nevertheless, it was familiar, and Aravis began to relax.
"It's in my bedchamber," Cor said. "Wait here a moment."
He ducked into the next room, and Aravis caught a glimpse of his bed and a floor littered with discarded clothes before he pushed the door closed behind him.
"Yes, sire," she sniffed.
"I can hear you," Cor called.
While she waited for him to return triumphant, Aravis took it upon herself to begin picking papers up off the ground and placing truant books back in their places on the shelves. However the young man managed to keep his chambers so impossibly messy was beyond her—didn't he ever get lost in the piles of clutter? His bookish habits already lent a sort of busyness to the room (every available inch of wall space was filled either by windows, bookcases, seating, or vast tapestries depicting great moments in Archenlandian history) and the extra mess probably didn't help his two left feet.
At last, Cor came back, hefting in one hand a large leather-bound volume. "I found it—the nasty bugger was hiding beneath my bed."
"What is it?" Aravis asked, curious despite herself.
He motioned for her to sit on the bench beneath the west window, and she did so after removing a stack of maps. "I had meant to give it to you for your eighteenth birthday," he said, sitting beside her and placing the heavy book in her hands, "but then you left for Calormen and I couldn't. But that wasn't entirely bad—gave me a chance to finish decently."
Aravis traced the cool leather with her fingertips. "But what is it?"
"It's a book."
"I see that. But what of?"
"That's what reading is for."
Arching an eyebrow at him, Aravis slipped her fingers under the cover and opened it to a page somewhere near the middle. "'…of a lady who had likewise an only daughter, for the sake of her riches, had a mind to marry her, and though she was old, ugly, hook-nosed, and humpbacked, yet all this could not deter him from doing so. Her daughter was a yellow dowdy, full of envy and ill-nature; and, in short, was much of the same mould as her mother.' Why, Cor…is this your handwriting?"
He beamed. "Aye. You told me once you enjoyed our fairy tales, so I wrote them all down for you."
Aravis flipped through the pages, admiring the thick, confident writing and colorful paintwork. The details were not nearly as fine as the books she was accustomed to reading in her father's house, of course, but the fact that it had been she who taught Cor how to read and write in the first place made the simple volume infinitely more precious to her. "Thank you, Cor," she said sincerely, looking up into his face for the first time since her arrival. "It's lovely—really."
"Corin said it was nonsense."
"You ought to know better than to listen to Corin. Remember when he told you it was fashionable to wear your hose pulled up to your chest?"
"You always insist upon reminding me of that," Cor said darkly. "I, for one, wish to forget that incident entirely."
"That I will never allow," Aravis replied, closing the book. "You walked about with your tunic tucked in and your yellow trousers heaved up to your shoulders all day, and no one said anything."
Cor leapt to his feet. "At any rate, there is something I wish to ask you before the meeting with my father's council tonight."
"I won't tutor young Lady Anwyn, so stop asking."
"Did I say anything about tutoring?"
"…No."
"Then pray let me continue."
"Aye, master."
"Fine, then. You remember me telling you about that blasted…oh, what's it called…nestling year, or some ought?"
"The fledgling year," Aravis corrected. "Aye, you wrote me about it. Is Lune still asking that you go?"
"Aye," Cor said with a sigh. "And I suppose I must."
"You sounded rather enthusiastic about it in your letter. 'A whole year of observation and study!' I believe you called it. 'A real chance to learn about my people!'"
"Well, aye," Cor began uncomfortably.
"You haven't lost your nerve, have you?"
He ground his heel into the stone floor, stretching with some apparent discomfort. He had, indeed, grown taller, Aravis noticed with a flash of awkwardness as his tunic lifted above the waistband of his trousers for a moment. "Not exactly," he said. "Well, in a manner of speaking, no. Oh, don't give me that look! …Very well, I am a bit apprehensive now. But just a bit."
"Whatever for?" Aravis cried. "A whole year of adventure, and without your brother! What more could you ask for?"
"But you know as well as I the state of the kingdom," Cor replied mournfully. "Ever since the Narnian kings and queens left, the whole North has been in an uproar. The Telmarines are growing rapidly in the west, Narnia is disintegrating without proper rule, and if we lose that our biggest ally, we might have to fear the resurgence of the western tribes. Father says that if the situation does not improve, we shall have to assume control of Cair Paravel. The common people sense this—they are growing uncomfortable. And I am to spend a year among them?"
Cor's agitation was contagious, but Aravis got up and placed the tip of her index finger at the center of his chest, applying increasing pressure. "You are going to stop bleating like a petulant sheep, first and foremost," she said. His mouth was drawn up in a scowl of consternation. "And secondly, you have nothing to worry about—we are not Narnia, and you will be traveling under assumed names. No one need know you are Prince Cor of Anvard. Simply pick the right retinue, and you shall scarcely know it before the year is over and you return."
He sighed, and his chest rose and fell under her finger. "Well, since you're so insistaent on the subject, you've brought me to my next question. What if I were to ask you to be part of the retinue? What would you say?"
Aravis paused. She had spent the last two weeks in the saddle, and not even another week would pass before she would climb into it again, not to leave it for a year. "I wonder if my legs can withstand it so soon."
"I suppose," Cor mused. "I hadn't thought of that. But…you will think about it, at least? I rather missed you while you were in Calavar, and besides—I need companions with varied skill, and you wield the finest mind I know of."
Aravis took her hand back. "Very well. I shall think about it."
As Cor nodded, pleased, there came a knock at his door, and a few menservants bearing buckets of steaming water entered.
"Pardon me, sire," said a footman, bowing low, "but your bath is being prepared."
"I ought to go see to my own," Aravis told Cor. "Enjoy yours."
"Be thinking about it, Aravis," Cor replied. "Really."
"Aye, aye."
Aravis curtsied, Cor bowed, and then she let herself out. Cor had indeed given her a great deal to think about, but as it is very hard to think when there is sand in every crevice of your body, she hurried to her old chambers and the awaiting hot bath, leaving the more difficult topics to consider another time.
A/N: Hi! Welcome back to all our returning readers, and an especially big 'WELCOME'! to all our new readers!
Wow—a new year, a new start, a new fic—plenty of change for Schmo and Sushi! But no matter what life throws at us this 2010, we hope you enjoy "The Fledgling Year."
Sushi dedicates this to HaloFin17, who gave her a springboard for this fic, in the hopes that she will someday write Narnia fics, too! :)
