A/N: I wasn't satisfied with my last chapter, as it was more of a backlog device than anything. Something vaguely significant is actually going to occur, so be prepared…the story may actually start moving, for once…God, I'm so slow…
I've been thinking; I've got sequel plan for this, set in Prince Caspian saga, but I don't want to start another 'epic' saga before I've had a bit of a break. So I thought, how about I write about all the little antics the Pevensie's have got up to properly, in full story mode? What do you think? Would you read a small set of one-shots on the Pevensie's childhood, featuring:
The Peppermint Palaver, Candlestick Crisis, Nightmares abound, Swinging in the Rain and Aristocratic antics?
Sad titles, I know…but tell me what you think. It was just a thought.
By the by, it's nice to know so many of you have accepted Cifel. It is gratifying as an author to know an original character fits in well. He appreciates it too, though I'm not sure he will ever admit it…
Cifel: (sarcastic) four words: snowballs chance in hell.
And now, on to Ironic Synchronicity, chapter 23!
Chapter twenty three
"So you're saying they're alive! Are they alright? Where are they? How do you know! Oh, do tell us, Aslan!"
Lucy was practically dancing with excitement, wringing her hands in a mixture of eager joy and nervous anxiety. Toll smiled at Lucy's happiness, but was confused. She didn't seem to understand quite what the fuss was about. Susan placed a restraining hand on Lucy's shoulder and murmured a quiet:
"Calm down, Lu. Let him speak."
Susan looked to Aslan, his piercing amber gaze seeming to narrow and stare at her, apparently concerned. She shifted uncomfortably under the intensity, dropping her eyes to her hands, which were clasped in her lap.
"Daughter of Eve," Aslan began, softly "you are troubled. You seem…confused. Tell me, what is it you doubt?"
Susan couldn't deny, his gaze seemed very real to her at that moment. Surely her imagination was incapable of such invent? But this was…not possible. None of it was. Maybe she had eaten something which disagreed with her…
"Susan?"
Lucy had now joined Aslan in perusal, her hands on her hips, and Toll shifted uncomfortably, brushing a breezy hand against Susan's shoulder.
"Miss Susan? Are you tired? Do you wish to lie down?"
Susan shook her head curtly, her hair falling into her eyes. She brushed it away irritably, feeling incredibly foolish. She had had enough. She wanted to leave this place, this…confusion. None of it made sense. At all. Susan loathed not understanding anything, it made her feel…vulnerable. Exposed. She hated that creeping sensation, that lack of power, when faced with the unknown.
"I am fine. Please, Aslan. Do tell us about Edmund and Peter."
Aslan, of course was not convinced, but acquiesced nonetheless. Susan breathed a silent sigh of relief as she reluctantly listened attentively to the lion's words.
"As I said, Toll here has brought word of your brother's escape." Toll puffed out her chest with pride, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Aslan smiled kindly at her.
"The last that we know, they were in the Ettinsmoor mountain range, which is far north east from here, quite near the coast. This was about three days ago. I know not what has become of them since."
It seemed enough for Lucy, who, unable to control herself, ran to Aslan and embraced the lion tightly around the neck, burying her face in his mane, eyes welling up with tears of joy. Susan voiced a half hearted reprimand, but Aslan shook his head at her, eyes gentle.
"However, I find it unlikely they escaped unaided. I tell you, because you now hold the primary roles within this campaign. It is you who must decide; I cannot overrule you, but I will say this;"
Lucy drew back, eyes growing serious, concentrating; Susan leant closer despite herself, ignoring the embarrassed voice in her head which whispered of her folly.
"It would be most unwise to plan a direct rescue for your brothers; we have no way of telling where they are, nor where they are going. It is likely they have some sort of plan, and if my suspicions are correct, they also have a guide."
Susan blinked, and Toll straightened, taking a step forwards into the centre of the tent.
"If you please, my Lord, but I have seen this guide."
Aslan nodded for her to go on, and she continued in a babbled rush.
"While traveling through the lower valleys, I heard a terrible ruckus from where I had come. I turned, and saw a dark, winged shadow disappear over the rim of valley where I last saw the…the sons of Adam."
Lucy frowned, and thought of all the winged creatures she had so far encountered.
"Oh, winged? Was it a griffin, or some sort of bird?"
Toll shook her head fervently, adamant, looking to Aslan as she answered Lucy's question.
"No, Miss. He had arms and legs like a human, and his wings were far larger and darker than any other's I've seen."
Aslan nodded, face growing grave, and looked carefully around at all of them, pondering the spirit's words before he spoke.
"I know of this. But it is of little importance now. We must focus all our efforts upon the issue at hand; how we can use this turn of events to our advantage."
Aslan jerked his out outside, and lead them out of the tent. Lucy reached for Susan's hand, and Susan lifted her skirts as she followed Aslan up a small, grassy knoll. It was almost midday now, and the sun blazed down upon the camp, making each single blade of grass shine. Lucy smiled as she breathed the deep, sweet earthy smell of the land about them.
She truly adored this land. So different than the acrid, thick air of London. And even though she had only been here for a few days, she felt already as though she had grown a hundred years.
She looked up at her sister, whose face was hidden by the shadows cast by a nearby tree, dapple shade rippling across her features like a veil.
"Susan, do you think…"
Susan turned to look at her, and Lucy felt a sudden chill rise up her spine. Susan appeared so morose, so old, and she seemed to look down from so far above. She seemed very…sad, somehow. Lucy swallowed, and continued.
"Do you suppose we could stay…at least, for a while?"
Susan appeared to consider this, and her brow furrowed, as she gazed around, her eyes falling upon the great lion which marched before them.
"Don't you want to go home, Lucy? See mother, and father again?"
Lucy bit her lip, guilt filling her stomach. She was not proud of it, but she had indeed forgotten all about their parents. This place just seemed so…right. She felt safer here than she had ever done in their own world. Even when their father had been home to protect them, she had never felt at ease with the world about her.
Their house, their street, their town. She had always felt she didn't quite belong. She never fitted in at school, always felt so distanced from her classmates. They were pretty and girly, and altogether silly. Only ever cared about things like grades, or what hair band they were wearing.
But here…especially with Mr Tumnus, she had felt like she belonged. Like she mattered, had the power to make a difference. And she felt that, were she to return to their own world, she would never be content. Not when she had tasted the nature of true reality, real purpose.
"Of course I want to see them again…I just…I…"
She lowered her gaze, unable to put her feelings into words. She knew, anyhow, that Susan wouldn't understand. She had always been pretty, always strived to fit in, and did so with unpracticed ease. She could never understand what it was to be different. She didn't really want to be.
And with that realization, she shook her head and let go of her sister's hand, running to catch up with Aslan and walk beside him.
She would follow her own path, the path of her choosing, from now on.
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"Oh, wonderful." Edmund grumbled, as he and Peter stood upon the bank side of the river. "Absolutely fan-bloody-tastic. Just what I always wanted…more water!"
Peter, who was absorbed in the inky contours of the map, feigned temporary deafness and compared the landscape to the document. He nodded after a few moments, and tucked it back into his tunic.
"Okay. If we sail down this river, the river Shribble, we can reach the sea then sail along the coast to the Great River's estuary. We can then sail up there, turn down a small tributary,and end up right beside Aslan's camp."
Edmund, who was still glaring at the river with undisguised loathing, tore his gaze away to raise an eyebrow at his brother.
"Yeah, but just one tiny weensy problem with that, genius. No boat?"
Peter gave him a strange look, grinned and rolled his eyes.
"Drop the sarcasm will you? Honestly, you sound like our old Grand Pop…"
Edmund bristled, the river temporarily forgotten as his hands flew to his hips and he glowered at his brother instead.
"I am nothing like that old sod. He was sour and wrinkly, and he smelled."
Peter sighed, and muttered as he began to clamber down the cliffside in the bank of the river.
"Well, you don't smell so sweet yourself…"
"Excuse me, oh refined nosed one, but I just had an impromptu bath! Where are you going, anyway?"
Peter grinned as he gestured down to a point Edmund couldn't see over the rim of the bank. Edmund hesitantly leant over, and saw a small wooden, moss covered dock, tucked snugly into the side of the bank. Beside it, tied by a frayed rope, rocked a small, decrepit rowing boat.
Edmund's mouth fell open, as Peter smirked triumphantly, and jumped the remaining few feet to the rickety platform, a shower of earth shaken from roots sticking out in the bank following him. Edmund closed his mouth and edged closer to the lip of the ridge, eyeing the dock with trepidation.
"Are you sure it's sturdy enough to take both of us? Looks pretty old and busted to me…"
Peter blinked, and promptly raised one knee, and brought his leg down with all his strength. Edmund cried out a warning, but the dock held firm, only wobbling a tiny bit. Peter raised an eyebrow at his little brother as Edmund sighed and carefully lowered himself down beside his brother.
Peter peered into the boat, and picked up the long, filthy but strong structure which had a wide paddle at one end. He stood it upright and inspected it, craning his neck, as it reached far above his head. He slammed it against the dock and Edmund suppressed a cry as it rocked, and instinctively grabbed Peter's arm to regain his balance.
"Seems sound. Come on, Ed. This could cut the journey short by weeks. Don't be such a wuss."
Edmund glared at Peter's back as his older brother shed his pack and placed it neatly up one end of the boat, shoving it into a corner. He then turned and grabbed Edmund pack too, which was lying on the dock, and placed it up the other end of the boat to balance the weight. Edmund moved forward to study the surface of the boat, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted something shoved under the rim nearest the dock. It sat atop a small, filthy bundle which lay below it.
He clasped it, and pulled, falling back onto his dock with a gasp. A long pole with another, shorter pole attached at a right angle came back with him. Peter glanced up, and smiled in surprise.
"Oh, well done, Ed! You found the sail and boom. Great! This'll give us more control…"
As Peter busied himself with fretting over attaching the sail to the small indent in the boat, Edmund couldn't help but smile. It had been so long since Peter, or anyone for that matter,had said those words… 'well done, Ed'…and although he hated to admit it, his stomach filled with a flush of warmth and he inwardly beamed with pride.
"Hello, Edmund? Still with me?"
Edmund blushed as he realized he had been staring into the middle distance with a sappy, wistful look on his face. Peter withdrew his hand, which he had waved in front of his brother's face, and folded his arms. His lips curled up into an amused smile.
"And just what were you thinking about, hmm?"
Edmund shook his head violently, hair flying about his face, and grabbed Peter's shoulder in order to gain leverage to jump into the boat. It rocked, and Edmund felt a wave of nausea rise, as he subconsciously gripped Peter's shoulder tightly. He swallowed.
He absolutely loathed water.
There was a hand on his own shoulder, and Edmund raised his head to meet his brother's concerned, serious eyes. Peter's clear china blue gaze seemed to bore into his own, and Edmund knew he was not fooled by his façade of clumsy disregard.
"It's alright. Nothing will happen, to either of us. I promise."
He pulled Edmund to him for a brief, brusque hug, but Edmund knew he just didn't want to patronize him. And he was grateful for that. The one thing he had always loved about Peter was that he understood him; always knew what to do, and when. His older brother drew back, and fixed him with a warm smile.
"You hear? I promise you."
Peter ruffled his hair fondly, and reached over to untie the rope which anchored them to the shore. Edmund took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as he watched Peter reel the rope in and store it neatly under the plank of wood which served as a tiller seat. It was a good thing Peter had taken that sailing course last Summer.
Edmund didn't go, though. He wasn't brave enough. But he would be. One day, he would be. He had promised his father he would. Besides, as long as Peter went with him, he wouldn't be so afraid. After all, Pevensie's never break their promises. Ever.
Feeling slightly more confident, but still uncomfortable as the flow of the river took over and sent them speeding down the main tide, Edmund watched with interest as Peter removed his cloak and fashioned it into a sail of sorts, tying it around the top of the vertical pole and around the horizontal. It wasn't perfect, but it caught the wind and doubled their speed.
Edmund swallowed as the boat began to rock more violently, staring down at the glimmering surface of the water so close to him. He huddled closer to the middle of the boat, standing beside the main sail as the wind whipped at his hair.
"So, how long till we reach the sea, do you think?"
Edmund said, as he found his centre of balance by spreading his arms wide, and gingerly sat down on the ragged, dirty bundle which lay at the bottom of the boat.
And promptly leapt up with a surprised yelp, as it moved, and emitted a loud pained roar of displeasure.
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Cifel watched from the shadows of the trees, as the sons of Adam hastily assembled their temporary transport with seeming ease. Itappeared the eldest was quite knowledgeable when it came to sea travel. Impressive. But not enough to convince Cifel of their prowess. They needed no fishermen upon the throne of Narnia.
A light flutter upon his shoulder, and the spy he had sent out alighted upon his sleeve. The little robin fluffed its feather's in relief, folding its wings close to its round body. It cocked its head to the side, regarding Cifel with sharp eyes the colour of blackberries.
Cifel smiled, and touched a slender forefinger to its soft head, sending a pulse of warm revitalizing magic through its exhausted form. It shivered, and stood straighter, eyes growing bright with energy.
Cifel maneuvered it gently to rest in the palm of his outstretched hand, and brought it close to his face to listen to its silent, unspoken message, as it chirruped a small greeting before beginning its report.
Cifel listened in quiet contemplation, and remained quite still for a few moments after the creature had finished.
"So…the daughters of Eve have finally gathered their wits and acted. This is grave news. Foolish humans! How can they possibly expect to defeat the witch with such trifling naivety?"
The little bird jumped in fear as he instinctively went to clench his hand, but halted as he noticed its anxiety. He fixed it with an apologetic smile, and raised his hand high, whispering a final order before it fluttered away through the tree boughs above them.
"I thank you, little one. Kindly go gather your friends and bring them before me. I have yet more tasks I wish you to complete, and I made need more help than I anticipated."
He sighed deeply as he considered the news the messenger had brought him. This was getting out of hand. The daughters of Eve were misled in their assumption of advantage over the witch. As ever, she had deceived them all.
Including Lucifel himself.
No matter how they fought, the victory was ultimately the witch's. For Cifel had recently learnt that she still held the greatest advantage, a single fact which could undermine any of the efforts by the daughters of Eve to press their temporary upper hand.
The fact that…the curse upon the eldest Son of Adam had not yet been completely broken.
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Cifel: Of little importance! I'm gonna murder that stupid overgrown fuzzy cat…
A/N: So, just why is Edmund so afraid of water? You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out! There are VERY vague hints concealed within the dream sequences on the beach, but you'll have to look extremely closely to find them…(smiles) got you worried yet?
Many of you are anxious for the siblings to be re-united. But I'm afraid part of the concept of my story is that although a family should be united, that doesn't mean they can't follow their own destinies. It's all part of growing up. Also, I want it to be dramatic, and worthwhile. The buildup may be tiresome, but it makes the actual event all the more bittersweet.
Bittersweet? Oops…dropped another clue…
Take note: the injuries they sustained are not as serious as you seem to think. Peter can still walk, and the panic attacks occur at irregular intervals. Edmund, obviously, is now fine thanks to Cifel.
Toll: I love you, you love me, we're a happy faaaaaaaamily…SO REVIEW!
Cifel: (eye twitches) must…refrain…from…brutal…murder…ARGH!
So review, before Cifel and I get so annoyed we go on a mad Mary-sue mauling rampage…