Remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is too poor to buy.

-C.S. Lewis from the Chronicles of Narnia

~O~

Chapter 6: Chasing Pawns

~O~

Edmund had said goodbye to Lucy that early morning, promising that his return would not be without securing their sibling's safety and that of Narnia's.

His play will be crucial. Every move a monarch makes is a ripple effect; one mistake could be a wave of political turmoil that may take decades to broker. It's a game of chess, Edmund likes to think. He knew the moves that provided an opening, the right pieces to sacrifice, and the gambit that spells the endgame he had planned all along.

His brother Peter may have several advisors, but Edmund knows Peter would always have the final consultation with him. One word from him, and Peter would sway. He is Peter's confidence incarnate in that respect.

Now, Edmund is not so sure. He is second-guessing his move to be away from Lucy, fearing that this opening might just be the undefended square he did not see coming.

He had nearly died for that one mistake, and Aslan forbid he fall into a similar trap.

When Lucy finally introduced to him the pair who had saved his life, he couldn't help but feel a presence as familiar as it was malignant, like an inviting witch with sweets and warm drinks. That's quite the scary bit about evil, you see. They are not always dressed menacingly with an obvious tell about their intentions. They latch onto something deep within you if you had been foolish enough to be vulnerable, and vulnerable enough to give them an advantage.

But even Edmund knows it would not be fair to pass judgement so injudiciously. He welcomed the woman named Calla and the fox called Bane as readily as Aslan forgave him. But he kept his reservations to himself, deciding that he will wait until he finds pieces that don't belong and stories that don't add up.

For now, Edmund sees no other alternative, and his only hope is that he's played this game enough times to trust that his gambit will buy them enough time for a preemptive damage control.

As soon as Edmund arrives on board, he greets his crew and announces the intentions of the voyage. The trip to Archenland's ports will take an entire three suns at full rudder. He needs to get to Susan immediately and secure himself an advantageous marriage for his kingdom. It didn't matter what he felt about the situation.

If that's what it takes to keep his family safe.

The morning when Calla arrived on board, she settles in alone down in the ship's cargo hold where the rations and crews quarters were. As it was the beginning of the journey, the rest of the crew was up on the main deck, full of anticipation with the voyage ahead. The muffled voice of King Edmund making a speech travels through the timber of wood, but Calla is distracted.

It is constantly weighing on her mind, that while Bane did express cooperation on her plan, he made no secret of his disdain towards her.

She doesn't like that Bane hadn't spoken to her since. She doesn't like that Bane didn't even look back when she waved to him on the bow of the ship as it left the Narnian ports.

But she will make him understand. She will make him trust her again. When her plan works, that is. Exhaustion gets the best of Calla, and she succumbs to slumber.

That same day, though, she wakes up sooner than she wants to the cacophony of raucous laughter and hoots.

She balances herself in the hammock where she had drifted off to sleep, rocked by the ebb and flow of the ship. The sea is crashing loud against the hull but the cheers coming from the deck roar even louder.

Calla gets down on the cold hardwood of the ship and climbs up onto the deck, where the sun is blazing in its mid-day glory.

When her vision adjusts to the bright glare of the outside, she registers the sight of a sword about to swing in her direction, but she ducks just in time.

"Out of the way!" King Edmund yells at her as he dodges from a soldier and then another.

Calla wrinkles her forehead and watches him find his footing as he faces three Narnians, all encroaching closer but not without caution, as it is much too obvious that the King is more than a sword fighter: he is the bane of all battle strategy.

In one quick and effortless move, he attacks the human soldier with a trifecta of parries that leads to goading the other blade in a full arc and flinging it out of the soldier's grasp. He then moves on to the faun, swishing with precision-like aim and sophisticated grace. Calla gauges that his advantage is more so because of his confidence and ostentatious need to impress. Skill may be half the battle, but the novelty and flair of his performance was already half the win.

When the faun staggers after his nimble-footed quickness, the king appears crouching from behind, swipes his opponent's knees out of balance and makes the faun roll over his back and land face splat on the floor.

The King then eagerly faces the last soldier, a light elf but with enough bulk and muscle to evoke intimidation. The elf sprints towards him only for the seasoned warrior to side-step the attack. This continues on with Edmund merely shirking every jab with every twist and agile turn of his body, making the elf trip and throw his sword in the air, which the monarch catches precisely on the hilt.

It's impossible to defeat a quick-witted king that's light on his feet but delivers attacks with brute force.

Calla observes his victorious march on the deck, waving at his crewmen with an impish grin, but once again espouses humility by extending his hand to his fallen opponents and helping them up with a pat on their backs. He certainly has the panache to entertain a crowd, yet he still retains what makes him admirable as a just and fair knight.

Perhaps a good challenge is one of the quickest ways to earn his veneration... and trust.

~O~

Whatever lively noise the ocean makes during the day, it fills with ghostly silence at night. There are only sounds of the ship's hull creaking as it sways, cradled by a waves almost non-existent on the surface, one could make out a shadow moving below in the shape of their greatest fear.

But during the quiet of the night, it is where Edmund loves to stay on the quarter deck of the ship, sitting in a deep thoughtful manner with his eyes focused on a game he is playing against himself. He had brought with him a gorgeous chess set; its board was inlaid with ivory and its wooden pieces ebonised so that they always remained black, glossy, and pristine.

He is nearing the end of his game by the time he hears the sound of footsteps approaching but is unfettered by them until a shadow finally looms over the pieces on his board. "You seem very serious about a little game."

Edmund looks up to see the traveler, Calla, taking the seat across him. "You think of chess as simply a 'little game'? Why, you must be jesting."

"It's not nearly as exciting as watching you in swordfight," she replies, eyes focused on the pieces he had already put in place.

"You're familiar with the rules?" He asks, curious if she would participate.

"Enough to help you finish what you've started."

Edmund raises a brow. He realizes that this is the first conversation they've had since Lucy's thoughtful gesture of introducing them in Cair Paravel.

"Must be a relief going back home, after such an excruciating journey," he says in an attempt for small talk as he moves his knight across the board.

"I wouldn't call it home," comes Calla's response. "But it's what I've always known. So I suppose it is… your Majesty."

Edmund had always been a good reader of people, but Calla's face was devoid of expression at a topic most would have spoken fondly of.

"If you're worried about leaving your companion in Narnia, you need not to. My sister has taken it upon herself to take care of all those who were displaced," when he tries to meet her eyes, he finds them focused on the board, on the white pieces against Edmund's black. "I assure you, Bane will have the most dignified repatriation."

In place of a verbal response, Calla picks up a bishop and makes for a sweep across the board, capturing a black castle in the process.

Edmund is slightly taken aback but is nonetheless delighted at the notion of a challenge nearing the end of his game. "You should know, in formal tournaments, I've never been beaten once. On one occasion, though, I was forced to feign defeat for the prince of Calormen—his advisor informed me if I had not, we would have expected a declaration of war the next morning."

He starts playing defensively, building a fortress when Calla's rooks force a dangerous opening.

"Shame. It seems war is all men care to do."

"I couldn't agree more," Edmund says, shifting in his seat as the number of black pieces declined. "I suppose it's why I take such a fascination for chess. Though it mimics battles, it is scarcely fought for prize as it is won for honor."

"I had always known chess to be a quiet game."

Edmund only nods, if not in amusement of her candor. "You're not wrong. A loose tongue spells disaster—no, what was that saying again?" He thumbs the tip of his nose roughly.

"Loose lips sink ships," she replies, and the corner of Edmund's mouth lifts sparingly before dropping down again.

He captures with his knight the piece Calla had poised to capture the queen. What he doesn't notice was the white hanging rook that had moved to the far end of the board.

With her rook promoted as queen, Calla's subsequent moves breaches his fortress then locks his king en prise several times. A few frustratingly tense squares later, Edmund tips his king over politely.

"You have an edge I underestimated," he admits with resignation.

"Generous words, though I cannot take the credit, your Majesty," she says, holding his gaze. "You've been playing nearly the entire game yourself. I simply moved the last pieces you've already put in place."

"Speaks volumes of what it still costs to not look ten steps ahead," Edmund ponders, unbeknownst to him that most of his pieces are slowly being conquered as Calla plots her ultimate checkmate.

Something pulls his focus away from Calla and the chess board, and he couldn't divine if it was the wind that stopped blowing even if it made the hair on his skin rise, or the fact that when Edmund had stood up and walked to a higher vantage point, a stream of mist had already set in throughout the waters, cloaking the ocean waves and in all of its sinister secrets.

Then from afar. A melody.

That could only mean one thing.

"What's happening?" Calla has also stood up, following him when he walks in haste over to the ship's starboard, clutching at the rim and bending over to the mist around them. "Is that singing—"

"Shh!" Edmund shushes her mouth the moment he finds her next to him; the incessant rambling would have scared them away. "Over there."

It is almost too faint to hear but the stillness of the water and the glare of the moonlight outlines a silhouette amongst the rocks jutting out of the water. A shrill melody with a song mesmerizing and undulating in tune. It sounds as if it travels through the waves; the waters carrying it like flotsam that drifts and never sinks.

The figure on the rocks looks over their shoulder; long, black tresses cascading on the gradient between flesh and green scales.

"I've never seen them up close," Calla speaks as if she's holding her breath. "I almost thought they weren't real."

"Many had thought they didn't survive Narnia's hundred-fold winter," Edmund finds himself eager to tell such trivia, especially to a curious outlander. "They retreated so deep into the ocean before the ice froze their heart. And as the Great Lion breathed warm life back into the land, so they emerged. And they haven't stopped singing since."

"Do they sing for you?" Calla asks, still staring at the merfolk. What was only one figure became three as more silhouettes pull themselves onto the rocks, dragging their tail with them and letting their length dip into the dark waters. The singing only grows louder.

"For me?" Edmund frowns in confusion.

"Yes. You defeated who froze their home." She plaintively points out. "Jadis."

The sound of her name sounded like a gong that had gone off but instead roars with an ear-splitting pitch, and Edmund couldn't fathom why there's a sudden fuzziness in his ears. Like he's underwater. A suddenly nipping coldness starts from his fingertips, blue as the first time he had set foot in Narnia and held a silver canister full of temptations in his hand, the frost clinging to his skin but somehow it had felt like his whole body was set on fire.

"I—I..." Edmund clutches on the rim of the boat, reeling back from a string of memories that stemmed from something he buried deep within, deep as the trenches the merfolk had sought refuge in. But what made them surface?

The pain in his torso emerges up to his neck, and Edmund feels as if he's about to drown, both in the mist and in the melody.

"Did you miss me, Edmund?"

Edmund slowly turns to what horrifies him. In Calla's place stands his worst nightmare.

Author's Notes:

If you enjoyed this chapter, it would mean the world to me if you let me know—whether it's through kudos, comments, constructive feedback, keyboard smashing, one-worded reviews—anything to let me know how you feel!

Your appreciation is my motivation.

- nimf

Guest responses:

Aslanisalive12: I hope you do stick around for the surprises! :)