Chapter 14: Flight to Anvard

After the Witch had left, Aslan ordered for the camp to be moved to the Fords of Beruna.

"But why?" asked Susan.

"This place will be wanted for other purposes," he responded simply and proceeded down the hill. All throughout the journey to the Fords, he talked to Peter and Edmund about his plan for the campaign while Susan and Lucy and Mallory speculated about how Aslan had managed to deal with the Witch. Mallory had not quite made up yet with Peter and they were both carefully avoiding each other.

"Well, whichever way it is," concluded Lucy with a heavy sigh, "I'm certain that we'll never know it."

"Oh, don't you say that, Lucy," said Mallory. "You might just. You'll never know." And she thought about the dreadful thing she had done as Alvarya, and suddenly it occurred to her that it might have had something to do with the Witch.

After some time, Aslan fell back from the front of the group and continued the journey in a rather subdued mood. Just as Mallory noticed this, Edmund had fallen in step beside her.

"Hullo there," he said.

"Hello to you to."

"Edmund, this is Mallory," said Lucy. "And Mallory, well, here you go. This is Ed."

Mallory and Edmund shook hands. She couldn't help but notice that his handshake shook just the tiniest bit.

"Are you from England?" asked Edmund.

"Yes. London, to be exact."

"So you came here directly from London?"

"No. I was staying at my uncle's in Scotland. You?"

Edmund snorted a bit. "We got stuck with a dotty old professor in a big house right in the middle of nowhere. But honestly - " he quickly added, " – it isn't too bad. Why if it wasn't for the Professor, we wouldn't be here."

Lucy smiled and said, "And you will still be the same, old - "

" – grumpy and tiresome Edmund Pevensie," finished Susan with an ambiguous smile.

Edmund laughed. "Have I really changed that much? But that's good if I have, after, you know, what Aslan said, and I really want and mean to. Change, I mean."

Lucy threw her arms around her brother. "Oh, Ed!"

Mallory laughed. Suddenly she felt something warm and heavy rest on her shoulder and she turned around to look.

It was Aslan. His eyes were great and sad but his bearing as stately and stern as ever. "Come, there is something I wish to tell you."

She nodded mutely and followed him to the end of the march.

Aslan lumbered on for a time, his body seemed to be weighed down by a terrible sorrow, so terrible that it affected Mallory as well. "Aslan, what's the matter? Why are your spirits low and your heart so weary?"

He did not look up, if anything, his head went down a few inches lower. "Oh, Mallory. I have committed myself to a very evil pact that will lead to my undoing. How I regret my actions, yet I am glad that I had thought of it. Put your hand on my mane, Mallory, so that I may be comforted."

She obeyed. The soft thickness of his mane seem to heal her hands of its tiredness. After a while, she plucked up the courage to ask, "How did you deal with her? The Witch."

"I shall not speak of it now," he replied. "For it will only weigh your heart down with an unnecessary burden." Suddenly his head arched straight and he stopped. His gaze was fixed at the opposite bank of the river of Beruna. Mallory held her breath.

After a few minute, she heard a low growl come from the Lion. "She has done it. My worst fear has come to pass."

"What is it, Aslan? What is it?"

"Archenland," he said, and he turned to meet her face. "She has sent a legion of her army to storm the castle of Anvard."

Her jaw fell. "But – but how do you know?"

"Do you not see? They are moving south, which can only mean Archenland, of course, and they are moving slightly to the east. The Witch is clever enough to have found out the location of Anvard. I suppose she intends to storm it and Narnia at once." He growled, a true, feral growl that made Mallory's skin bristle with discomfort.

He resumed his walk but this time his movement matched more of a prowl than of a lumber. After a few minutes of thought, he finally said, "Mallory, I'm afraid that you have to do one more thing for me."

Mallory did not quail this time, but she tried to feel brave and willing, "What is it?"

He fixed his stern, solemn grey eyes on her and said, "Once the night falls, make for Anvard with all speed. Take Snowmane the Unicorn with you, for Firumel the Eagle will be needed in battle, though Snowmane is meant to be used by the High King, but I suppose Windstorm is just as worthy. Ride with all haste to the castle of Anvard and alert the King Rufus. He will have a better chance at defeating the Witch's army if given early warning. Mallory, can you do this?"

She nodded. "I can and I will, Aslan. But isn't it better to set off at once?"

He thought about it, nodding, then he said, "Yes, of course, haste is the essence, but it is also wiser to move by night. The darkness will shade you from the eyes of the Enemy. Furthermore, the remnant of the Witch's army will be occupied with another business tonight, so you need not worry about being ambushed."

"What business is that?"

Aslan sighed and shook his head. "It is of no importance to you." Mallory understood the finality in his words and remained silent. She knew and accepted now that he would tell her only what she needed to know. As much as she resented not being able to know things, she respected his decision.

The pavilion had been re-erected and most of the Animals had gone to sleep. Peter and Edmund went to bed early to rest themselves for the battle tomorrow while Susan and Lucy stayed up with two Dryads who told them stories of Narnia during the reign of King Frank and Queen Helen. Mallory heard only half of the birth of Narnia when she realised that she should be starting off for Anvard. On the pretext of going to the lavatory, she buckled the sword-belt on and went out into the inky blackness. Near the tent, a small fire was left burning and illuminated a small portion of the campground. A Centaur stood by the fire, stamping his hoofs every now and then.

Carefully, she tiptoed away from the entrance and moved to where the Animals slept. In the darkness, she could make out the faint silhouette of Snowmane's horn and she made her way towards him. She shook him gently.

"Snowmane . . . Snowmane . . ."

"Hrrumph? What?" he raised his head and blinked, then he said, "Oh, it's you, my lady."

"We've got to go to Anvard now."

His eyes widened. "Now?"

She nodded gravely. "Yes. On Aslan's orders. And don't you look at me like that, Snowmane, I'm not trying to run away from tomorrow's battle."

"No, of course not," said Snowmane hastily and he got to his feet. "Let's go. Anvard, you say?"

"Yes. As fast as we can."

Snowmane neighed softly and cantered towards the border of the camp. "Get on then, my lady."

Mallory climbed onto him and he trotted away south into thick, dark woods to make as little noise as possible. When they had passed the hill of the Stone Table, he broke into full gallop. Mallory gasped as she held on to his mane. Such speed! The Unicorn dodged bushes and trees with an astonishing agility. Sometimes he just rammed through small thickets and his speed never faltered. It took some time until Mallory could get used to the sudden lurchings and the wind whistling past her ears and whipping at her face. The ride was almost as exhilarating as that on Firumel. The rhythmic pounding of his hoofs matched the furious thundering of her heart.

When they broke out of the woods and entered a wide, pleasant plain, the night was considerably lighter. Mallory guessed that it was around two or three o'clock in the morning. Several minutes later she found Snowmane slowing down as they reached the narrow, rocky passes of the mountains of Archenland. And then they were in Archenland itself, and the sun began to rise in the east, throwing streaks of pink and orange in the sky.

By the time Anvard had come into sight, the sun had risen fully. Anvard was a castle of red bricks and it looked very homely. It was undeniably smaller than Cair Paravel, but it had a certain warmth that Cair Paravel lacked. Mallory felt her spirits singing as they approached the portcullis.

"Hold there!" A guard called out from one of the watch-towers flanking the gates. He wore a simple helmet and simple mail. "Who goes?"

"I am a messenger of Aslan and I wish to speak to King Rufus."

The guard's eyes widened when he heard the name. "Aslan, you say?"

She gritted her teeth and Snowmane stamped his hoofs in impatience. "Yes, Aslan. This is urgent!"

The guard nodded, still a little dazed, and disappeared into the tower and the portcullis was raised in a racket of clangings and clinkings. Before the portcullis had been fully raised, Mallory had urged Snowmane through it. They came into a wide, paved courtyard, in the middle of which was a lovely fountain. The courtyard was flanked by magnificent beech trees as tall as time.

The guard descended from the tower and led her and Snowmane to the great, wooden doors of the castle, which stood open. A short flight of wide, sweeping steps led up to the castle doors. Here, Mallory descended from Snowmane and followed the guard into the castle. However, she had barely taken ten steps in the vast entrance hall when she heard angry neighs and the shouting of men. She turned around and saw several men trying to muzzle Snowmane.

"Stop! Stop! What are you doing?"

"We're going to take him to the stables," replied one of the men, releasing the muzzle at once.

"Please, that is a Unicorn of Narnia. I hope you understand that it doesn't enjoy being muzzled, or being kept in a stable either, so do not attempt to bind him." She smiled a little.

"Yes, you heard my mistress," Snowmane added with the threat of a bite underneath his voice.

"Very well."

The guard led her through the great, big hall, which was void of decorations except a few rich tapestries and suits of armour spaced at regular intervals. The hall rose up and up and up until its ceiling felt like a thousand miles away. The ceiling was made of beautifully crafted stained glass so that when the sun shone, it cast dazzling, colourful rays on the floor and repeated the mystical symbol of the royal family of Archenland that was imprinted on the glass.

At the end of the hall was another set of heavy, wooden doors and these were open too. In the middle of the entrance hall, a set of wide stairs that led to the west and east wings of the castle stood on opposite walls. The guard led Mallory into the hall beyond the doors and she found herself in the great hall of the castle, which, if anything, was even bigger than the entrance hall. A little away from the doors, two lines of high-backed stone chairs started and continued all the way to the dais at the end of the great hall. The ceiling of the great hall was similar to the one in the entrance hall. Upon the dais there were two high-backed stone chairs that were bigger and more ornately carved than the ones below the dais.

On one of those big stone chairs sat a rather plump king with curly dark hair and dark beard. He was dressed in rich clothes. He appeared to be in deep council with two men who were dressed in plain brown clothes but the feathered caps on their heads showed that they were noblemen.

"Your Majesty," said the guard. In the almost-empty hall his voice echoed all throughout. The king lifted his head and called out back, "Yes?"

"This lady here wishes to speak to you. She claims to be a messenger of Aslan."

"Please, Your Majesty," said Mallory. "I bring dire news. The army of the White Witch, tyrant of Narnia, has come to Archenland to sack the castle of Anvard. At this very moment, they are preparing for battle." Actually, she wasn't very sure of this, but she supposed that they were most likely doing that.

King Rufus stood, ignoring the surprised looks on the faces of his advisors. "You say that you come on Aslan's orders?"

"Aye, Your Majesty."

"How true is this? Can I believe you?"

"As true as Aslan's heart."

"Then we shall be ready when they meet us. Guard! Call the Princes of Archenland to the Great Hall at once. And hurry!"