(words 2,214 inclusive this posting)
(I draw inspiration for my stories from the Chronicles of Narnia in all its manifestations both canon and non-canon).
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We come here just to play in his garden.
Warning: rated T plus for some graphic depictions of violence.
The Nail: Suspension
chapter 1
"Six months ago"
Gravel crunching under foot, Queen Jadis paced up and down the bank of the Great River. She pride herself on being prepared for almost any eventuality but what was she to make of this. The cat's offer to take the place of that simpering little whelp had caught her completely off guard.
Could he be that much of a dolt not to see that with his death she would simply sweep aside all opposition, march to the sea and this time raze his capital to it's foundations.
Her musings were interrupted by a burly minotaur pushing his way threw the crowd. The soldier burdened with an arm load of fur went down on a knee in front of the queen, his nose inches from the ground.
"My liege lady, I found these along a path leading up to the stone table," the minotaur rumbled.
The winters queen tentatively poked at the items held out to her as if the beast was offering up some old weather-beaten carcass.
With an almost imperceptible gasp she grabbed a fistful of the material, turning it over in her hand. These outer garments by the look of them were not of narnian origin.
'Brought here by those accursed children,' she wondered. A mirthless smile briefly touched the red lips of that pasty white face. The second time this day she held the future in her hands. The first being the fate of the lion and now these baubles.
No one knew better then she the affinity the magic of narnia holds for things from the world of men. That worthless chunk of metal she tore from a streetlamp back there had blossomed into a copy of its sire the moment it touched the ground. The pearl necklace commandeered on planet London proved essential in the rituals used to bring down the Tree of Protection.
These coats were exactly what she needed for one of her greatest incantations but She would have to put those plans off for now. She had a battle to prepare and precious little time to spare for these piddling distractions.
The members of her entourage backed away in surprise when their queen roared, "Deadeyes!"
An animated bag of filthy linen separated from the crowd and shuffled to the sorceress side as fast as her legs could carry her. The hag upon reaching the enchantress looked up into the face of ruination before averting her gaze.
Deadeyes was not her given name but if the queen chose to call her that, well so be it. The hag had no desire to find out what lay in store for those foolish enough to point out any flaws in their benefactor.
The toady gushed. "How may I be of service most exalted one."
"Give me your spell book and something to write with," the queen commanded.
Deadeyes without further question produced from her belt pouch her spell book, a bottle of magic infused ink and a bobtail quill pen.
Jadis gripped the hag by the shoulders, spinning her around so Deadeyes faced in the opposite direction.
With a hand, the sorceress forced the hag to stoop down even further so she could be used as a writing desk. Jadis dropped the tome on the crones back and began to scribble furiously across the last page, stopping occasionally to gather her thoughts. The queen finally straightened, much to the relief of the minion, and tore the page from the book spine.
Folding the sheet of parchment into a perfect envelope, Her highness spoke into the ether. "Clean her up."
A bogle rushed in to gather up the book and scribing implements, in the process it scattered drops of ink everywhere including the hag's back. The ghastly looking creature, with a sneer shoved Deadeyes possessions back into her waiting arms.
Meanwhile the usurper queen closing her eyes whispered an incantation before pressing the signet ring on her left index finger against the dispatch. Murky tendrils of magic swirled skyward from the icy seal left behind on the missive as she lifted her hand away. The thin seal of ice was not the kind one might expect, one of crystalized water that quickly melts in the new spring air.
No. This was ice wrought by the darkest kind of magic. The same kind of ice that made up the floors and walls of the witch's house. A Smoky Quartz colored substance that does not wither under the burden of even the longest of summer days.
Jadis admiring her handy work cleared her throat, a signal to all to pay homage to her holiness.
Her left hand shot out with the speed of a viper's strike as she hooked a claw like fingernail under Deadeyes chin forcing the hag to gaze upon her face.
"Deadeyes, my dear,' she intoned with mock sincerity. 'I want you to take these... things' - Jadis cocked her head in the direction of the bowing minotaur - 'back to the study hidden behind the mirrored wall in my sleeping chamber. When you get there, store these rags in the corner cupboard. Once you've done that, read this letter," the witch said as she slipped the envelope into the hag's script.
"But not until then." She said in a tone that left no room for question.
"Oh, and tarry not little slave, for I want my best tacticians at my side when I take the field two days hence. Now be off with you," The Witch said with a dismissive wave of the hand.
The hag found herself buried under an avalanche of fur as the minotaur drop the coats on to her out stretched arms. Deadeyes in deference to her sovereigns lofty position took three steps back before turning and scuttling away.
Jadis watching the hag depart allowed herself another smile. Deadeyes was one of her most able spellcasters but the witch knew well that greater power breeds greater ambition. It did well, from time to time, to remind these vermin of their limitations.
Unerringly as a homing pigeon Deadeyes pressed on north by west all day and into the night. No rock or rill nor bush or tree, no slope of scree or broad mountain valley would she let turn her feet aside. The wee hours of the morning found the hag slumped against the bole of some tree catching a few precious moments of rest before continuing. She reached the hills flanking the Witch's house about midmorning where she was met by a most terrifying sight.
Below, the fortress now occupied a small island near the southern bank of a topaz colored mountain lake but this is not what alarmed the hag. It was common knowledge among those who served the queen, the frozen tract the castle sat on had once been a reservoir built long ago by the beavers. She was only mildly surprised to see that a stone arch bridge connected the isle to the mainland. A hitherto unknown relic from the past buried beneath the ice and snow till now?
In truth the source of her trepidation was the sight of an army streaming across that cause way and leading that army was a very large golden lion. She had never seen his like before but there was little doubt who it was.
The queen had declared she would kill the cat before another dawn so something must have gone wrong. Paralyzed by fear and confusion all the little acolyte could focus on was the task her empress had set for her.
Hiding among the bulrush Deadeyes bide her time waiting to see if anyone else would come out. Deciding she had waited long enough she stole across the bridge and up threw the now splintered gate leading into the castle's courtyard. The place once crowded with petrified figures stood completely empty, confirming her suspicions.
Ascending the short flight of stairs leading to the yawning main entrance Deadeyes ghosted along the empty colonnade to the main audience chamber. She turned left then through a column flanked archway to another hallway then immediately turned right, sweeping up the stairs leading to the second floor and the queen's chambers.
Pushing open one of the two now unguarded doors spanning the entrance, she almost jumped out of her skin when something moved. Just the curtains steered by a gentle breeze wafting through the open windows. Still shaking, Deadeyes rushed across the room to the royal bedchamber. On the far side of her lady's boudoir stood the wall made up of reflecting panels, each one reaching from the floor all the way up to the ceiling.
Her hand sliding down the gap between two panels Deadeyes found what she was looking for. A depression in the side of the mirror that could be used to pull it open. With a click the mirror swung outwards revealing the holiest of unholies, the witch-queen's inner sanctum. The seat of acts so abominable even some of Her most ardent followers found it difficult not to turn away.
She paused a moment before passing through the opening. Her queen would often set magic wards at the entrance to mark the unwary, invisible weaves only Her Highness could see.
"And woh unto the trespasser so revealed," the little beldam whispered to herself.
Torches in the wall sconces having burned out long ago, the light streaming threw the door was the only source of illumination in the room. She hurried to the narrow wardrobe and pulled the door open. Inside the unusually tall locker hung smocks and aprons, some made of cloth and others made of leather. So stained with blood were they that no amount of washing would ever get them clean. Sharing the above shelf with a canvas kitbag, stacks of leather gloves some coated in volcanized rubbery tree sap displayed the same loathsome condition as the frocks underneath.
Her furry burdens having been hung on spare pegs, Deadeyes turned toward the open door so she could read the instructions her mistress had set down for her. She flicked a dirty thumbnail against the royal seal once, twice and on the third try it exploded in a shower of sparkling motes like fairy dust that quickly faded away.
Confusion spread over the hags face as she read the contents of the missive in the weak light. She stepped as far as was possible into the wardrobe and on tip-toes felt around on the shelf with a free hand. That hand fell upon the item she was looking for, another envelope. Taking it down the hag turned it over in her hand, stopping to verify the authenticity of the seal on the document. Satisfied, she returned the warrant to it's place on the shelf and quietly shut the closet's door.
She bustled from the study into the bedchamber swinging the mirror closed behind her. Tarrying a moment longer, Deadeyes tried using the greasy sleeve of her blouse to feather out any fresh fingerprints she had left on the grime coated glass. Deciding she had done all she could on that score, the hag dashed from the royal chamber, down the stares and threw the hallways as if a demon was nipping at her heels.
Her back resting up against one of the main doorway jambs, Deadeyes trying to catch her breath couldn't suppress a small chuckle. Looking back down the corridor into the Witch's house, the warm, gentle breezes and bright sunlight she had cursed just a day ago now offered a measure of relief.
Her confusion soon returned, though. The note containing the Queen's instructions, crushed in her right hand, she held up in front of her face. Curse the Queen, curse Jadis for entangling her in this web of schemes and intrigues. The more she tried to set things straight in her mind the more it made her head spin.
The letter she crammed back into her belt pouch. Her shoulders she squared. Her chest she threw out. There was only one person in the world who could properly explain all of this to her and that person was waiting for her near the ford in the Great River.
Deadeyes taking a deep breath wondered aloud, "Now, in which direction from here does Beruna lay?"
a/n. Thankyou for reading the introduction to my story. Let it be known here, your under no obligation to write a review. It is my fondest hope, though, you find this story immersive enough to continue following along. If not, well it's your time to do with what you please, isn't it?
One last thing, in future chapters I will be writing more detailed authors notes. Thank you for reading along and may the Lion's shadow blanket you wherever you go.