Author's note: Thanks mucho mucho for the reviews (yet again!) but the gratitude must, simply must be shown! Here, the Witch makes a cameo (ta-da) and, to be quite truthful, this isn't a very eventful chapter, but is absolutely necessary to push the story along. Yah, enough of my ramblings, let's get on with the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to C. S. Lewis ('nuff said)
Chapter 13: The Witch's Bargain
Mallory awoke the next morning after a deep, restful sleep, in a most uncomely way. She had been sleeping on a pile of cushions in the pavilion beside Firumel (who didn't like the idea of sleeping on the ground at all) and accidentally tumbled off the cushions and right onto the Eagle, who screeched until everyone in the pavilion woke up, but soon returned to sleep.
"Really, Firumel!" she said crossly, "You needn't have made such a big fuss about it!"
"How would you like if I had jumped onto you instead?" he shot back.
Mallory blushed and stormed out of the pavilion.
She made her way down the hill towards the river and washed her face in the ice-cold water. The sun had risen and its happy, glad rays spread throughout the country. After she had washed her face, she trudged back up the hill, still a little sleepy, and went into the pavilion for breakfast, but just as she was about to lift the flap to the pavilion, she caught sight of Aslan and a boy walking all by themselves and engaged in deep conversation. She was curious about the whole scene, as she had never seen the boy before (perhaps it was Susan and Lucy and Peter's brother) but her stomach growled and she had to give in to breakfast.
The children were already seated at a low table whereupon a scrumptious breakfast had been laid out.
"May I?"
"Of course!" said Lucy and she edged over towards Susan, leaving space for Mallory between her and Peter. Mallory felt a bit awkward for having to sit beside a boy (much more a teenager), but she didn't want to appear rude, so she sat.
"Good morning," greeted Susan warmly and Mallory replied, "And a good morning to you too."
Peter, the boy, chewed absently on a piece of toast and didn't seem to notice her. He looked as if he was in deep thought. Mallory ignored him and asked Lucy to pass the jam.
When a few minutes of silence ensued, Lucy, who was feeling quite uncomfortable at seeing Mallory and Peter not even acknowledging each other's presence, cleared her throat and said, "What are you thinking about, Peter?"
He took another bite out of his toast. "Home."
"Funny, now that you mention it, I was thinking about Mum and Dad and England all last night too," admitted Susan. She finished spreading some butter on her toast and sighed. "I miss home, even if Narnia's a hundred times better than London, but still."
"I understand the feeling, Su," Peter smiled at his sister.
"But really," said Lucy, "we're in Narnia now. Must you think of home when we're all having such an excellent time here?"
"Ed's not," reprimanded Peter. "That's why we're here in the first place. To get him, and then," he put what was left on his toast on his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin, "we're going home."
Lucy stared at Peter in dismay. "Oh, Peter!"
"You don't really believe in us becoming Kings and Queens, do you? This kind of thing only happens in fairy tales. And we're not in one. We're in a very, very real and dire situation. We don't know where Ed is, or how is he faring, or most importantly, how we're going to get him back."
"No, you won't," said Mallory at last. "Leave it to Aslan. He'll take care of this."
"Can he?" he bellowed at her, finally losing his temper. "Aslan – Aslan – Aslan, that's all everyone ever says. That's all very fine for you, but it's not for me. I don't want to hang around here not doing anything while my brother's out there inches away from death and God knows what. I – I want to go out there and look for him. Yes, that's what I should be doing, and when I finally find him, I'll drag him back to England by the collar. And you're an outsider, probably one of these Narnians, and what do you know about losing someone, eh?"
"What do I know?" exclaimed Mallory. Surprisingly, she felt tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. The pain of separation and the joy of reconciliation churned and stabbed her heart. The good times, and the bad ones, the piggyback rides, the memories that were not hers yet felt so comfortable and familiar to her came back at once. And this time she couldn't stop the tears from falling.
Peter was stunned. "I'm – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - "
But she had heard enough. Mallory jumped to her feet and ran out of the pavilion as fast as she could so that no one else could see her crying.
Why? Why? Why? What had she done to deserve this? She hated Alvarya, she hated her and her memories, her unbelievable weaponry skills, her close, tight bond with Aslan. She wished that she could go back to London and forget all this. It was a nightmare, a nightmare that alternated with exhilaration and delight, but in the very essence, it was a horrible nightmare she couldn't throw away.
She ran into the woods and collapsed by a tree. Why? She gathered her knees to her chin and buried her face into the space between them. Why? Why? Why? The sobs were heavy and she didn't try to control them now.
Then, "Mallory?"
Her head shot up and she found Firumel looking down concernedly at her. He gasped. "What – are you all right?"
She nodded a little and he clicked his beak. "Come now, Mallory. What's happened? Would you like to share it with me?"
Mallory shook her head and calmed down so that the sobs would subside. This took quite a while, and as the last of the heaves ended, she took a deep breath and dried her eyes. All the while, Firumel stood beside her, patient and understanding. Thankfully, he understood her need to be silent.
Finally she managed to croak out, "I'm sorry, Firumel. I must have looked like an ass."
He laughed his cackle-like laugh and said, "Don't worry about it. Snowmane has been looking for you actually. He wanted you to ride him - " he chuckled, "I wonder what you've done to him. Narnian Horses, especially Unicorns, don't like to be tamed, you know. But when I asked him, he said that you were his mother's mistress (besides your excellent riding skills) so he had great respect for you. So I've thought it over, and I've connected it all with your extraordinary fighting skills and your odd speeches, and I've concluded this: you were some sort of great, heroic figure in the past, brought by Aslan for a heroic purpose, and then you were brought back here to Narnia to aid him once more." He beamed.
Mallory had to laugh. "I wish it was as simple as that."
"What? You mean I was wrong?"
"No," she said quickly, "No, it's just that – well, to be truthful, I don't even know the whole thing myself. I've just gotten bits from here and there - " (which is of course, not true, she couldn't help but think guiltily) " – so I'm afraid I can't confirm your theory."
"And it would be just plain silly to ask Aslan," Firumel laughed again and flexed his wings. "Boy, all this standing in the woods are numbing my nerves. Come, let's get back to the camp. I see the Animals are gathering. Let's go see what they're up to."
"Do let's." Mallory and Firumel rushed back towards the hill-top.
Mallory caught sight of Aslan and hurried towards him. "Aslan?"
Aslan let out a low growl and gave her a deep, trusting look. "Whatever happens, Mallory, you are to keep perfectly quiet. Do I make myself clear?'
"Yes, Aslan."
Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy had gathered on the other side of Aslan. Peter quickly cast his head down when their gazes met and a flush crept up his face.
Lord Marvyr came, and behind him was the Witch herself, in all her cold and white glory. Her skin was as white as sheet, her hair a pale, steely gold, and what Mallory noticed most about her was her height. She was definitely taller than the men of England, and even taller than the Centaurs. Beside her, a short, stout, grumpy dwarf huffed and puffed to keep up with her long strides. The air had suddenly turned chill, as if the Witch herself brought winter with her everywhere she went. Mallory heard a sharp intake of breath from Edmund, and Peter's voice saying, "Steady, Ed. Steady." However, the oddest thing about the Witch was, Mallory could swear that she had seen her before. There was something very familiar in the fierceness and chillness in her eyes.
She halted several feet away from Aslan and fixed an icy glare on Edmund and said, "You have a traitor with you, Aslan." But Edmund did not look at her. He just went on looking at Aslan, wondering what he would do.
"His offense was not against you," said the Lion.
"Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?" she snapped.
"Let us say I have forgotten it. Tell us of this Deep Magic."
"Tell you?" her voice suddenly went up a note higher and a tad icier. "Tell you what is written on the Table of Stone that stands beside us? Tell you what is written in letters deep on the fire-stones on the Secret Hill? Tell you what is engraved on the sceptre of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea? You at least know the Magic which the Emperor put into Narnia at the very beginning. You know that every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every treachery I have a right to kill.
"And so," the Witch pointed an unwavering finger at Edmund, "that human is mine. His blood is my right to claim."
Lucy gasped and gripped Edmund's hand tighter.
Suddenly, Peter drew his sword and pointed its keen, razor tip at the Witch. "Come and take it then!"
"Peter!" Mallory hissed.
"Fool!" The Witch's eyes blazed. "Do you think you can rob me of my rights by mere force? Your master knows the Deep Magic better than that. He knows that unless I have blood, all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water."
Even though this came out of the Witch's mouth and she might have been lying for all they knew, Mallory knew sullenly that she was right. It seemed like a complete dead-end.
"It is true," said Aslan. "I do not deny it. Peter, keep your sword and hold your peace."
Peter blushed a bit and sheathed his sword, but he still did not shift his angry glare from the Witch.
"Back, all of you," said Aslan, "I will talk to the Witch alone." He gave a look at the Witch which was polite, or disliking, or merely sad, none of them knew, and the Witch huffed and went into the pavilion. The Lion followed her and the camp was silent.
"Oh, I hope that everything will be all right," said Lucy, her voice trembling. "Oh, Edmund!"
Edmund did not reply, but he kept his eyes fixed on the pavilion. Peter took Lucy's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Susan sighed softly and looked sadly at Mallory, who tried to smile as optimistically as possible.
At long, long last, Aslan and the Witch came out from the pavilion and Aslan announced, "She has renounced the claim on the Son of Adam's blood." The camp erupted in a multitude of hurrays and clapping and the Pevensies hugged each other and Lucy cried and laughed as she said, "Oh, Ed! Oh, Ed!" and Peter messed his hair and said, "Good for you, Ed!" while Susan only managed to laugh with tears in her eyes.
The Witch was just about to turn away with glorious triumph on her face, but stopped, seemed to remember something, and whirled around. "But how do I know this promise will be kept?"
Aslan stood on his hind legs and gave a loud, deafening roar that shook all Narnia from the lamp-post to the windows of Cair Paravel. And, needless to say, the Witch picked up her skirts and fairly ran for her life.
