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Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belong to Jack and all his people.

Chapter 5

Pages and pages could be spent writing about Galian's feats at the tournament in Azim Balda, but fights are much more exciting to watch than they are to read about. To summarize, Galian eventually won the tournament, despite an injured shoulder and opponents bigger and stronger than he could ever be. Suruv was the man of the hour, and before Galian's deadly stroke fell on his last opponent, he was inviting several prominent Tarkaans to a banquet the following evening.

Aoife behaved herself this evening, or behaved according to Shameth's and Suruv's views of how she should behave, and was therefore released early on good behavior. She made polite small talk with some of the other guests, but mostly looked for a chance to slip away. Her opportunity finally came, and she found herself out in the humid air, a drastic change from the iciness of the air during her last visit. She walked about aimlessly, thinking about the week's events, about how she had missed Pericles, and about how she missed her mother.

Without really meaning to, she ended up in the orchards. Her mother had worked in the orchards, and had oftentimes brought the infant Aoife with her. The smell of apples was buried in her mind, the scent arousing images of her mother bent over her, singing a strange melody to calm her crying child. For one so little, Aoife understood very well about what went on in her mother's world. She knew exactly when to be quiet so that her mother could get back to work, and knew that the bad men would hurt her mother if she was not allowed to continue her work. Aoife's last memory of her was in their small, shabby hut, and her mother was rocking her to sleep. Soldiers then burst through the door, shouting all kinds of things Aoife didn't understand. Her mother, after a little bit of protesting, was dragged from the hut. That was the last time Aoife ever saw her. The next morning, a richly dressed woman came to fetch her, a woman she would learn to call "mother" but never really mean it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something galloping towards her. She turned to see the shaggy pony that belonged to Pericles, with it's master sitting atop the not-so-
valiant steed. Concerned, he dismounted, and asked her why she should be here, of all places.

"I was merely wandering. My footsteps usually bring me here, if I don't think about where I'm going."

"I see. Suruv let you go, then?"

"No, I more or less slipped out."

"He didn't stop you?"

"I don't think he saw me. What's wrong, Pericles?"she asked, now noticing the agitation of her friend's voice.

"It's Suruv. I can't be sure, but I think he and Shameth have entered negotiations for marriage."

She wasn't sure why the words shocked her so. She had expected to hear it sooner or later, for Suruv had always used marriage as threat, a tool to keep her in line. Still, hearing the affirmation of such from her friend's lips confirmed her worst fears. Images of married life with Shameth flooded her mind. She had always been strong-willed, but Shameth had ways of breaking even the bravest man's spirit, and she had no doubt he would put practice those methods with her, more so than anyone else. She could practically see the chains closing around her wrists, and the dark hallway that would lead to her cell...

"I won't marry him!"she exclaimed.

"Aoife..."

"I won't, Pericles, I'd rather be dead!"

"Don't say that!"he snapped fearfully. The thought of her dead was more than he could bear.

Fear crept into her voice as she leaned against the tree, whispering, "What am I going to do?"

It was the very question Pericles had asked himself. So many ideas came to mind, each one more unlikely than the next. He paced about, trying not to look at Aoife, for the sight of her terrified form unnerved him greatly. He stopped suddenly, dwelling on the plan that had come to mind. It had been done before, by a few. Aoife was strong and clever, she could do it...

"Run away."

"What?"she blurted, having been lost in her own thoughts.

"Run away. Escape to Narnia or Archenland, anywhere but here."

"But...that's such a long way. Can it be done?"

"There's a story in Narnian legend, about the lost Prince of Archenland. He was captured by spies of the Tisroc and brought down here, and was raised by a fisherman. One day he met a talking horse who had also been captured and sent down here, and they as well as a second talking horse and a Tarkeehena traveled the hundreds of miles, through cities and deserts, canyons and ridges until they reached Anvard. There's more to the story but I haven't the time to tell the rest now. The point is, yes, it has been done, and yes, it can be done again."

"I don't know the way, Pericles, and what would I do when I reached Archenland?"

"To the second, worry about that when you get there. To the first, I'll tell you what you need to know. We must be patient, though. We've got to devise a plan, procure some supplies for you. And before anything, you need to learn to fight."

"Will you teach me?"

"Of course. Don't worry,"he said confidently, noticing the agitation still present in her face. The more he thought on his plan, the more he was sure she could do it, "everything will be fine. You should probably rejoin the banquet, they'll be looking for you."

"Thank you, Pericles,"she said softly, then did something very uncharacteristic. Standing on her toes, she placed a timid but meaningful kiss on Pericles's mouth. As she slipped quickly away, Pericles stood rooted to the spot. His heart thundered in his chest, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded. Finally, he was able to make himself move, and as he walked away, he could still feel the warm pressure of her lips on his. He remounted his horse, and directed the steed back to the palace, unaware that a strange smile was frozen onto his face.