Chapter Nine: Phillip

I set Oreius to figuring out my equipment and the surest route to Caldron Pool, the point where the Great River enters Narnia. I had him do it because I knew he would not be content with anyone less preparing my gear. If I had asked Silvo the good general would have been breathing down the nervous Faun's neck. My valet had enough to deal with right now, he didn't need a growling, critical Centaur cluttering up my rooms. Oreius summoned Celer and they happily started planning as if for a new campaign.

I had asked to meet with Aslan in the library after I spoke to Phillip. Susan had set the librarians to researching the Western Wild and I was hoping the Lion could give me more details and clearer instructions. He agreed readily, nodding his approval of Phillip, saying, "It is best to bring a companion that loves your brother dearly. He'll be as anxious for success as you."

That said, Edmund and I made our way down to the stables. Phillip was out to pasture, so we walked along the paths to the green fields beyond the stables until we spotted him rolling around on some dust and grit, scratching his back. We both grinned and Edmund called out,

"Oi! Phillip!"

The Horse righted himself and looked around until he spotted us. Shaking off dust, he met us midway across the field.

"King Edmund. King Peter. Well met." He bowed to us, then butted Edmund with his nose. "How are you?"

"Sore, tired, and glad to see you," Edmund replied. "I should have come earlier. Thank you for the other night, you're quite the hero to the ladies-in-waiting."

Phillip looked smug. "They sent me carrots and apples. It was very kind of them."

I should mention here that Phillip was something of a rogue amongst the Talking Horses of Narnia. They were highly intelligent, cultured animals and usually had sophisticated taste and a love of finery. Except in times of war or extreme urgency (or revelry) it was considered the height of gauche for any Horse to allow himself to be ridden, much less guided by reins. It was the stuff of scandal and whispers behind stable doors. Phillip, however, cared not a whit for custom and equine social stance as he had carried Edmund at Beruna and ever since. He saw it as a badge of honor to carry a king on his back and he insisted that Edmund ride him regardless of the situation. There were plenty of dumb horses to ride, but Phillip scoffed at the notion of his king riding anyone less. He had taken it upon himself to improve Edmund's riding ability and the results were so impressive that I had considered asking him for lessons myself, for who better to teach a rider than the one ridden? Apparently of late there had been mutterings among the Talking Horses that perhaps this rogue was on to something when they saw how close he was to not only to Edmund, but to all of us. Some Horses had even talked of asking us to ride them on occasion, quite the reverse of normal equine etiquette. Phillip scoffed at their wavering and just went about his business.

"Careful," warned Edmund. "None of them are married."

Phillip nickered and nudged him playfully and Edmund laughed. He scratched under the Horse's chin in a way only a friend could, for we have learned not to treat our subjects like animals, but Animals. I was glad to see the ease with which they treated each other. Flisk, my own war mount, was far more formal and finicky, though affectionate with me in his own way. I supposed comparing Unicorns and Horses was like apples and oranges.

"Peter and I need to talk to you, Phillip," he said, "and he has a question for you."

He looked at me curiously, then suggested, "Let's retire to the shade. We can talk there."

Seated under the towering live oaks and silver maples with Phillip lying beside us, we told him everything we knew. He listened intently, his ears sharply forward as he took in every word, casting my brother several anxious looks as I explained about the Deepest Magic and the implications of Edmund being healed every night. Finally the Horse shook his head and muttered,

"Such wickedness."

I smiled as Edmund patted Phillip's neck. "Aslan said I should only take one person with me. He says two have a much better chance than a troop. Would you go with me into the west, Phillip?"

He blinked, surprised, then fell silent so long I grew uncomfortable, fearing I had put him under pressure to accompany me. Quickly I added, "If you don't care to, I understand completely. It's going to be hard and dangerous."

Cocking his head, Phillip gave me a keen look. "No so, High King. I was just trying to think of whom I trust to carry Edmund while we're gone." He looked at my brother. "I'll send you word."

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"We run the kingdom but not our own lives," grumbled Edmund as we headed back towards Cair Paravel.

I waved dismissively. "We make the big decisions. Let our friends and servants make the little ones."

"You watch. He's going to pick the oldest, slowest, dumbest horse in the kingdom."

"Maybe he'll pick Jett," I replied, referring to the coal black mare I rode most of the time. She was fast but sure of foot and with a very even temper.

"A donkey," continued Edmund, ignoring my optimistic suggestion, "or a pony at best. And Aslan help me if he gets word that I've ridden anyone else."

I laughed as we reached the stables. I saw several smaller Cats sunning themselves on the low wall running along the path all of them curled up or stretched out in luxurious comfort. After a hundred years of winter, few Narnians could get enough of the warm summer sun. I spotted one I knew well.

"Marin!"

The silver tabby raised her head and smiled, pleased with the attention before her peers. Rising, she made a great show of stretching before jumping down from her perch and looked up at me. "King Peter. King Edmund. Good morn."

"Good morning, Marin. I know you're not on duty, but can you take a message for me?"

"With pleasure," she lisped.

"Please tell Oreius that Phillip will be accompanying me. He'll understand. If not Oreius, Celer will do as well."

"Right away, sire."

Tail high, she trotted off.

"Now what?" wondered Edmund, eyeing the donkeys in the paddock skeptically.

"The library. Aslan is waiting. You'll look after Silvo for me?" I asked as we headed back towards the palace.

"Yes, I - " He broke off, realizing what I was asking and what he was promising. Wide-eyed and alarmed, he darted in front of me, walking backwards. "No! Peter, no! You can't leave them both taking care of me! It's two against one! They're worse than the girls! Not even I can make enough mess to keep them busy! No! I won't have it! I'm your brother! Please!" he begged as I kept walking, trying not to laugh.

"I'm moving into Phillip's stable!" he shouted after me, and I finally laughed as he'd intended all along.

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"...Aslan, he is fourteen."

Though quiet, Oreius's voice carried as we approached the library. I glanced at Edmund and he frowned. We had been raised not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to avoid hearing with the acoustics in the large room.

"And he is most capable, General."

Oreius, bless him, was one of the few people I knew who would argue with anyone whenever the safety of his monarchs was in question, including his monarchs themselves and now even Aslan. "I never said he wasn't. But to send him alone...why?"

Edmund stopped and put a hand on my chest to halt my progress. I gave him an annoyed look, for it was clearly a private conversation.

"A large band would attract unwanted attention. Alone, he will be able to travel quickly and avoid many forces that would hinder his progress. Besides, Oreius, where he is going, he alone may enter."

I smacked Edmund's hand down. "Not very noble!" I whispered tightly.

"But informative," he replied without remorse.

I shook my head and conjured up the dirtiest look I could manage. He was far from impressed. I made to push past him just as Susan and Lucy came up the stairs behind us, talking. I heard them say something about dresses and the morning and my mind immediately wandered away. Edmund recovered instantly and said, "There you are! Phillip agreed to carry Peter."

"Wonderful," exclaimed Susan. "Minovin said she's located some maps, too. They're not very detailed, but they're the best we can do for now."

I followed them into the library, not sure if I admired or condemned Edmund's cheek. A little of both, I supposed, hence my confusion. Oreius and Aslan stood at the table by the cold fire place. The table was piled high with old tomes and scrolls and large parchment maps. Minovin, the elderly Centaur that served as court recorder, came walking down an aisle with yet another scroll she had found. I stared at the intimidating heap of knowledge. The books were stacked higher than Lucy was tall and I lost sight of her as she circled the table to stand next to Aslan.

Oreius smiled at my expression. "Fear not, King Peter. Most of them simply repeat the same things."

"Ah," I managed. "So...what have you found?"

Minovin stepped carefully over the librarian, an aged Hedgehog named Irel who was curled up and fast asleep in a basket half-filled with scrolls. Pushing the basket and the librarian out of her way with one hoof, she spread the scroll out on the table.

"This was copied in the year 238 at the order of Queen Lily, wife of King Frank IV, when Narnia was trying to preserve the memories of the Flying Horses. It is a description by Fledge of the journey from Narnia to the Garden in the West. Unfortunately, it's the best we have." She handed it to me and with Susan and Edmund leaning over my shoulders I read the distressingly short account. High mountains, blue waters, snow, grass, deep valleys, waterfalls, toffee trees. Toffee trees?

Edmund frowned, then looked at the Centaurs and Lion. "Is it known how far he flew?"

Oreius, who had clearly immersed himself in lore of the Western Wild, said, "Accounts say that Fledge later estimated he flew a little under five hundred miles, sire."

I blinked. "Five hundred?" My mind was awhirl. That didn't seem so awful. Narnia itself was about two hundred miles from Cair Paravel to Caldron Pool, and narrower from the north to south. I could journey that far easily.

My expression must have betrayed my thoughts, because Oreius gently corrected, "As the crow flies, my king."

I opened my mouth, stunned, then shut it tightly. Finally I managed a small, "Oh."

The looks my siblings gave me were pure sympathy, for clearly they had entertained the same optimistic thought. Aslan purred to reassure me as he pointed to one of the maps with his paw. Not far beyond Narnia's border, though, the lines on it got vaguer until nothing but blank parchment remained. It was a depressing sight.

"Follow the Great River. When you find its source, you'll find the Garden. There will always be a path. Several rivers contribute to the Great River, but this is the only one that flows directly from the west. Do not lose sight of the river, for the mountains are steep and treacherous."

"Are they inhabited?" I asked.

"Not by Men and not by Talking Animals. There are other beings, though, divine waters and magical creatures of many sorts not found in Narnia. Some are intelligent, all are territorial. You must remember at all times these are not your subjects and will have little regard for the title of High King. Should someone invoke my name to you, though, they will be known to me. He who invokes me falsely will always be punished, while the true will be exalted. Remember this, for it will serve you."

I nodded, a little overwhelmed.

"Did Phillip agree?" pressed Oreius.

"Yes," Edmund replied for me.

"With your permission, majesties, I'll finish preparations. King Peter, do you wish to depart at dawn?"

Dawn?

The reality of the situation hit me and for a moment I couldn't find my voice. Recognizing what was happening, the others nonetheless remained silent. Finally I said, "Yes, please, Oreius," in a voice that wasn't as firm as I would have liked.

He bowed and departed, Minovin following him and allowing us time with Aslan. I swallowed and looked at them hesitantly. I was rattled but I tried my best to recover quickly. My brother and sisters were looking at me strangely and I understood how they felt.

"I...I'd best go talk to Silvo," I said awkwardly.

Susan stepped over to Lucy and whispered something in her ear. I watched as my youngest sister went from anxious to excited in a span of seconds. Her long face became animated and she nodded at Susan enthusiastically. Suddenly she burst out with a loud "Oh!" that roused Irel. She was positively glowing with excitement as she stood on her toes and whispered something back to Susan. Both girls nodded to each other, smiling as they conspired. Lucy suddenly tugged on Susan's sleeve. "I know just the thing! Mr. Tumnus! Mr. Tumnus!"

She ran off, still shouting for the Faun. Susan smiled upon us. "Excuse me," she said, "there's something I have to do." Gracefully she walked out, leaving both me and Edmund confused and staring after her. He looked to me for clarification and I could only shrug. Aslan chuckled and then carefully helped Irel out of the basket. He watched the old librarian waddle away, then regarded us seriously.

"You, good kings, must be brave and true throughout this ordeal, not only to each other, but to yourselves as well. You're both facing trials that will test your wills and your hearts. Peter, I know you're equal to this quest. And Edmund, I know you can endure. You must each have faith that the other will stay constant."

"We will," I swore.

"Yes," Edmund agreed, "we will."

"Of that I have no doubt," said Aslan, his eyes bright.