Disclaimer- C.S. Lewis owns the land of Narnia and its respective characters.
Aslan's Country by CS June
During the Golden Age of Narnia a young woman is established as Queen of the Western Wild. When a pact is signed between her and the High King Peter of Narnia it appears that they have more in common than just royalty.
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Chapter Six – Tale of a Queen Part 2
Suddenly a twig snapped and she had no time to turn around as heavy arms grabbed her from behind and clasped her mouth shut. A cold object lodged at her throat, a sear of pain shot through her as the blade dug into her skin. All the men stood alert as Emma was dragged by her oppressor into the light, the bade still digging deeper into her neck. Her screams muffled.
Emma dared not breathe, the blade was held much to close to her neck. Her hearted raced and tears flowed as her brain screamed for oxygen. Her view grew hazy as the man, Aedai began to speak to her. She made no attempt to reply as her legs grew wobbly. From the corner of her eye she caught a plump little woman emerge from a tent. She screamed at the men.
"Release her! She's but a child!"
The man holding her muttered and released Emma who fell to the ground.
She felt gentle hands pull her up, and the last thing she remembered was the soft brown eyes and fiery red hair of her savior. Emma fell limp in her arms, thankful and unconscious.
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Emma wearily opened her eyes to a bright orange canopy. Ugh. She gently messaged her temple. What a dream! She squinted more clearly at the orange roof. What...? Emma pushed herself up and looked at her foreign surroundings. Dream. Yes. It must have been. Her thoughts began to recollect the night before. Her horrifying experience in the water, the strange and barren forest, the fire, the men! The woman! Emma jumped to her feet in a frenzy. Not a dream? Impossible! She hesitantly peeked out of the tent. There were several more lined up to her right as well as her left. No one stirred within them, nor did she see any people outside. She drew back into the tent to look at her clothes. She was wearing the same large cotton night gown as the night before, her feet were still bear and dirty. Emma's gaze went to the large wooden chest in the corner. With curiosity, she cautiously opened it. Inside there were several articles of clothing; a small white blouse, a long and wrinkled gray pair of knee-length pants, a pair of flats and a black, bonnet? She let out a nervous cough which caused her to cringe and grasp at her throat which was wrapped lightly with a piece of cloth. Her shaking finger ran along the gash.
It really wasn't a dream.
Her eyes widened. She knew it was impossible, but here she was with a rather nasty cut to her throat, odd clothes at her feet, in, God only knows where. After a few moments of bewilderment she quickly dressed into the clothes left for her, or so she presumed. Emma wrapped the black bonnet around her head, slightly thankful for the privacy it provided, and stepped out once again into the camp. She took a deep breath trying to accept the obvious fact that Emma Mills was no longer dreaming.
She wandered further down the desolate camp until she came to the infamous campfire circle she had seen the night before. With a shudder she sat down on a log bench. Her hands wrung nervously in front of her. Such a nasty habit. She thought in vain to draw her thoughts away from her current situation. She heard the ground shuffle behind her. The hair on her neck stood up. She drew a quick breath.
"You're awake! Good gracious, you're a strong one aren't you?" It was a warm voice of a woman.
Emma turned around to see a short, plump women with fiery red hair and soft brown eyes. It's her! Emma quickly jumped to her feet.
"Relax dear. You've been through quite an ordeal." The woman saidas her face flickered with momentary annoyance. "What is your name, dear?"
"Emma."
"Emma? What a unique name... however it's quite beautiful."
The color of Emma's cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you."
"I apologize for the clothes... they are but a young boys, but you see, you wandered to a nomadic camp. We are severely limited in our resources, particularly women's resources."
Emma smiled pleasantly. "Thank you. I honestly don't mind. They're quite fitting!"
"Ah! What a pleasant girl! My name is Genetrie and you are in the domain of Nemorosia" She paused, "That is, assuming you are a foreigner."
Emma held her tongue for a moment. "Yes."
"Where are you from?" Genetrie prodded.
She hesitated once again, but preceded,"England."
Genetrie gave her a curious glance. "I have never heard of such place, however, I dare say I am not the wisest and most learned of sorts. Your clothes were highly," She paused, "Interesting."
Emma chuckled. "I am not sure where I am, though, I thinkI can say with certainty that this is no place in England. Where is, eh, Nemosia... in the world?"
The plump woman let out a hearty chuckle. "Nemorosia, and it is just west of the cold and bitter lands of Narnia, northwest to the cruel desert lands of Colormen, and east of vast and scarcely known land."
Narnia? Calormen? Emma felt her self grow weary as she quickly sat back down, her head spinning. "No England? Europe?"
Genetrie looked concerned. "No, dear Emma. I am afraid not. No Ang-lang or Er-up that I know of. I dare say, the others will find you quite interesting..."
Emma glanced curiously at Genetrie. "Idon't understand."
"Ah! Well," Genetrie smiled nervously. "Nor do I, but from the little I have gathered, you might be..."
Suddenly a loud horn wailed throughout the air. The two women turned their heads towards the barren woods in which, Emma assumed, she had ran through last night.
"Oh dear. We must get back to the camp." Genetrie gently guided Emma back towards the camp where men and women began to emerge from the bright tents much to the surprise of Emma.
They pushed their way through the hustle and bustle and planted themselves safely behind one of the central tents.
The highly confused Emma turned to face Genetrie. "I don't understand, what is going on?"
Emma noted as Genetrie's face grew grave. "We live in uneasy times here in Nemorosia, moreover, the west in general." She paused, "We are but one tribe out of twelve who rule this land, and I use rule lightly."
"What's so terrible about that?"
"Oh dear. We are not friends, and most of the tribes, including our own, are barely cordial allies. Often we are at war with one another, and it seems that such warfare is finally beginning to take its toll." Emma listened intently. "The southern Calormen is looking to expand and conquer our torn and broken nation."
Emma remained silent, slowly absorbing the information. It reminds me so much of my history lessons... She mused. However, this is not history, this is the present for these people. Emma frowned feeling an overwhelming sympathy for Genetrie. She said rather naively, "Have you tried peace talks?"
Genetrie's frowned increased significantly. "Be still."
Emma turned back to face the woods where a band of men on horses emerged. They were draped in dark robes, a shadow casted upon their features. Her stomach churned with anticipation. One of the front men drew his horse forward and with a wave of his hand all the men, including himself removed their head garments.
"We come in peace."
Emma heard Genetrie gasp.
The man, who's skin was bronzed but his eyes bright spoke again, "Is your council here?" His eyes wandered over the crowds occupants.
A young man with brown hair stepped forward. Genetrie made a significantly loud gasp. Emma only faintly wondered why.
"Who is asking?" Asked the young man..
The horseman's gaze quickly snapped back. He glared accusingly at the man before him. "Are you that ignorant? Do your elder tribe men teach you nothing of the evils of your neighbors?" Emma was quick to note the bitter cynicism that lined his deep voice, "I am the High Messenger, Sheakeil, of His Lord Jacuob from the clan of Terraen."
"What then is your message?"
"We are in urgent need of help. Our tribe is under attack from the south..."
"The Calormen?" The young man questioned impulsively.
"Yes. In our most southern region... they have," His voice quivered, "They have slaughtered all... they have ravished... killed even the women and children. senselessly, brutally, andmercilessly."
The few woman among the camp let out sad wails, the men grew angry, and Emma stood there horrified and indifferent. Then, almost instantly, the crowd grew silent, the man from the night before had said something. Emma listened intently as he restated his question to her horror as well as to the horror of the men on the horses.
"And why should we help?"
And to the amazement of Emma, the crowds head began to nod in unison. She was struck by their callous manner. It was barbaric to her. Her indignation grew at this disgusting sign of behavior.
"Please," The messenger pleaded, "I know we have a rocky history with one another, but I ask you not as High Messenger, nor Sheakeil, nor as the servant of Jacuob, or as a clansman of Terraen, but as Westerner, as one of you; please, we beg of you, help us." Silenced followed his desperately passionate speech; a second too long Emma thought nauseatingly.
"We'll have to call a meeting." Was his only response.
Emma was stricken. Their cruelty! Their stupidity! She thoughtangrily. They seek to only think of themselves and they think not of what the southern clan's downfall will do upon themselves.
Thus, with impulsiveness and courageousness quite foreign to Emma she took a step forward and belted loudly. "You selfish people! You fools! You think only about yourselves, do you? You heard the man! Men, woman, and children, innocent peoples, are being slaughtered and you stand here with your petty indulgences, your indifference and nauseatingly churlish behavior. These men are in need, and what say you to that?" The crowd had turned, confused and awe-struck. "If you came to these men in your hour of need, when your husbands and wives and sons and daughters and fathers and mothers were being slaughtered, what would you wish them to do? Stand there indifferent? Without a care? I have been here but a short time and you already disgust me!" She inhaled deeply, suddenly realizing the effects of what she had said, and her face grew awfully warm. Emma gulped nervously. Why on earth did I do that?
And to her least expectancy, for this was no mere flick in the cinema to which the scriptwas written to please and have a happy ending, the crowds faces grew solemn. They realized their own disdainful nature and they, themselves, were disgusted. They turned their eyes, full of shame,back toward the horsemen and apologetically uttered their penitences. After their apologies were through they grew angry and raised their voices as one yelling things passionately such as, "We'll kill those Calormens!", "We will help our fellow Westerners!" and "The West will notfall!"
Emma looked sheepishly toward the messenger. His gaze was upon her. His expression that of absolute gratitude.
And so, the beginning of a revolution starts, most unexpectedly, thanks to little Emma Mills.
Ah! Yes, yes, I know it's been a long time since I've updated, but don't worry- I was really busy with writing AP Language research papers, French papers, and taking final exams. But seeing as though I have had a break I'm updating! And look forward to next week, it's my spring break so- I'll be updating even more! Please continue to stick with me, I'm not abandoning this story for my life. And review too!