Again, I only own Rhianna and Darkmoon. Love them well.
Chapter Seven: The Power of a Sword
"Rhianna, are these for us?" Susan asked in amazement as she lifted the lovely, well-made dresses spread over the chairs in the tent that housed the baths. They'd been allowed to cleanse themselves of the dirt and grime of their trek and rub in fresh-scented oils. Now, each girl's hair glistened in the light and felt like the softest silk. Susan was exclaiming over the pretty green dress draped across a chair, while Lucy examined hers with pleasure.
The elf smiled. "Of course they're for you. The future Queens of Narnia deserve no less."
Susan smiled slightly, thrown off by Rhianna's reference to "queen of Narnia", but began to pull the dress over her head.
Rhianna glanced over the clothes laid out for her and smiled, pleased. A pair of soft, rawhide leggings and a loose white tunic awaited her. She pulled them on and then wrapped the thick, pale-green sash around her waist. Stepping to a mirror, she began to brush her long, wavy locks, before sweeping them up into a loose bun that just covered the tips of her ears. She helped Lucy into her dress, then bade them farewell for the afternoon, wanting to spend some time with Darkmoon.
The bugle of Susan's horn woke Rhianna from her dream-like doze against the soft warmth of Darkmoon's side. She jumped to her feet and re-strapped her weapons over her shoulder. She and Darkmoon had ridden into the hills and stopped on a patch of springy turf to talk and rest. Now, it would be a long, hard ride back if they were to make it in time. Rhianna swung onto Darkmoon's back and they were off.
Aslan's camp was in an uproar and, following the flow of the crowd, Rhianna found the center of attention to be a tall tree where Susan and Lucy were trapped by a huge wolf rearing up beneath them, snapping up at their feet. It was Maugrim. Rhianna knew him on sight. How could she forget those times when she had lain frozen like a rabbit in its burrow, hoping that he pass her by! Before she could move to interfere though, a hoarse shout rang out as Peter – coming seemingly from nowhere – drew his gleaming silver sword and bore down on the Witch's Chief Captain. In a brilliant move, he swung, missed, ducked under Maugrim's retaliatory swing, and drove the sword deep into the beast's exposed chest. The huge wolf collapsed on top of the young man and, for one heart wrenching moment, Rhianna feared that Maugrim, in his death throes, had taken Peter with him.
The bulk shifted and Peter, dazed but alive, wriggled out from beneath the dead beast. Susan had come down from the tree and was on him in an instant, hugging him tightly – blood, sweat and all – and crying tears of relief. He returned her embrace fiercely, his bright blue eyes shining with unshed tears. Lucy also scrambled down from her perch in the tree to throw her arms around her oldest brother.
"You care deeply about them, don't you, my child?" Aslan's deep, sonorous rumble caught Rhianna completely off-guard.
She nodded, not meeting his great, golden eyes. "It's hard for me to see them, knowing that I'll never know that kind of love," she said quietly, so that only he could hear.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Rhianna," he rumbled gently, a slight twinkle in his eyes, "You may be surprised one day." With that, he turned and walked away to call on the eagles and centaurs to lead an excursion to rescue Edmund.
"You've never fought with a sword?" the centaur Oreius exclaimed incredulously. "That an elf does not know how to –"
"Please, Oreius," Rhianna interrupted hastily, "let's keep the 'elf' thing quiet. I told you already that I've been on the run for ten years, meaning to seek you out, but I never found you. When I heard you were here…I came as soon as I could. You know I was orphaned too early to have learned how to use a sword."
Oreius winced. Even the indirect reference to her parents brought him pain and he chided himself for speaking so lightly of it. "Very well, Rhianna, I will teach you how to use a sword, though I'm sure you'll catch on quickly. Swordplay comes easily to elv– to your kind," he amended quickly. He led her to a rack of various different swords. "Try a few. Remember, a weapon chooses its owner. You will know each other."
She nodded and selected a long, thick-bladed sword with a black-steel hilt and grip. She gave it a couple of swings and nearly dropped it. "Nope," she grinned wryly, "not that one." Her second choice was one almost exactly like Peter's but this one, too, sent her off-balance. A short, light, two-edged sword yielded the same results. She tried sword after sword, but to no avail; none of them felt right for her. She noticed Peter a couple hundred paces away, in training with another centaur. He was doing well and cleanly disarmed his tutor with a flick of his sword. Rhianna sighed. If only she had a weapon of her own…
Oreius noticed her pause. "Did you give up?"
"No," she growled good-naturedly, "I've been turned down by every last sword in your arsenal and I've even retried a few, but either I'm not cut out for them, or they're not cut out for me."
"I see." Oreius looked troubled. "Well, there is just one more sword…" he ducked into his tent and returned a moment later, a long leather scabbard in his hands. He held it out to her. "Try it."
Tentatively, she wrapped one hand around the elegant leather grip and drew it. It chimed softly as it slid out of its sheath and hummed gently in her hands. It was a thing of beauty: shimmering steel blade – elegantly curved and slender – with a diamond-inlaid hilt and pommel. It fit perfectly in her hand and sang softly as she swung it around a few times.
"It's an elven sword," Oreius said softly, causing her to look up sharply. His eyes saddened infinitely. "It was the instrument that took your parents' lives." He looked at her steadily. "I know this because I fought beside them and killed the minotaur who killed them."
Rhianna dropped the sword as though it was poisonous. "I can't carry this weapon," she choked out, staring at it in revulsion.
"You must." She spun around to see Aslan standing behind her. "It is yours now, my child. Give it a new life, a new story. Perhaps, in the upcoming battle, you may use it to avenge the deaths of your parents."
Reluctantly, Rhianna picked up the sword and sheathed it. Fortunately, she was spared any further action or comment by the arrival of Susan and Lucy running towards them.
"Edmund's back! Edmund's back!"
Author's Note: Again, for story progression, I skipped Edmund's rescue, since it really has nothing to do with Rhianna and the struggle she's facing (or going to face... dun dun dun :)) Review Please!