Well this took longer than it should have (5 vs. 2 months…oops). I'm quite picky with my editing these days and I am actually pretty consistent at writing, but most of my stuff is original fiction these days. I've written about 40,000 words since January, and I aim for around 100,000 per year, which is hard when I have a full time job :s
Anyway, I have written the next 2 chapters for this fanfic as well, so I should update within a reasonable amount of time for the next few ones. Fingers crossed.
The Ambassador
"Ambassador Aror," said Cor, moving up towards the man as he brought his horse to a stop and jumped down to the floor. A spritely man for forty years and fifteen stone. "What brings so sudden a return?"
A page boy came running out of the stables and Cor tried to ignore his swirling stomach as the ambassador handed the reigns to the boy.
"Your highness," bowed Aror, words disjointed as he recovered his breath. Wherever he'd come from, he'd come at great speed. "I bring news."
Cor frowned.
"What kind of news?" said Cor. "Good? Bad?"
"I am not sure, your highness," said the ambassador. "Only that it is perhaps unwelcome."
All the news Cor had got since his father's death had been unwelcome. He really did not want to have to deal with the Calormenes on top of his brother and Aravis and being King. King – he didn't like that word. It didn't seem to fit.
"Go on," said Cor, shaking his head to himself.
"The Calormenes, they sent me to ask if you were still of the mind of peace between Archenland and Calormen."
"Of course," said Cor, tugging at the neck of his collar.
At least the question was easy to answer. Cor had no intention of getting into national conflicts if he could avoid it. People died in wars.
"The Tisroc did express that he hoped you would say that," said the ambassador, straightening out his gold-yellow jacket. There was a red cross stitched into the fabric of his left breast pocket. "And he said that if that was your intention, he hoped you might give him a token of your dedication to peace between your two countries."
"A token?" frowned Cor. "What kind of token?"
"They wish to attend your coronation."
"My coronation?" said Cor, shaking his head. "No, I…"
He wasn't ready yet. The King was still warm in his grave, still heavy in Cor's heart. Everyone was so keen to move on, forget, crown him the new King and consign his father to the history books, but he didn't want to do that. A memory flashed in his mind.
His father lay on his death bed, skin pale, forehead beaded with sweat. He didn't look old – his hair was still fully blonde and only faint traces of wrinkles lined his skin. Cor had seen men live well beyond his father's age, on into the throes of old age and beyond.
King Lune had not even been felled in battle, merely stolen away by a sudden disease. Cor stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move closer. His father took a shaky breath; it rattled through his body.
"Cor, is that you son?"
"Yes father," he whispered, breaking out of his paralysis and hurrying towards the bed. He knelt down next to man, the cold stone floor digging into his knees. The King's hand lay limply by his side – five bones visible above the sunken skin, like valley ridges. With a shaking hand, Cor wrapped his fingers around his father's.
"Cor," said his father, turning his pale face to him. "I fear I am not long for this world."
"Don't say that," whispered Cor. "You might pull through. The disease has not taken you yet."
"No," the word came out as a wheeze and Cor's heart contracted. "But I know my time has come. The lion visited me in my dreams this evening."
"No," said Cor. "No, it is not time yet."
"It will be soon," said the King, quietly. "Let us not waste precious moments debating the coming of death when it is certain. There are many things that will fall on your shoulders, when I am gone, but I believe in you, Cor. You have the strength of heart and mind to lead this Kingdom, but it is not a task you should undertake alone. Look after your brother for me, and take care of Aravis, I fear she will need you more than you realise."
"No, father," whispered Cor. "I am not ready."
"You are son," said the King. A cough escaped his chest and his whole body shuddered. Tears slipped down Cor's cheeks. He wanted to protest, tell his father to stay with him. He wasn't ready, but the man had seen Aslan. The Great Lion was not easy to argue with. "Now," said the King. "I must see Corin."
"Your majesty?" a soft voice broke him out of his reverie and he spun round to find Trel standing beside him. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, trying to remember when she had appeared. The ambassador had also moved without Cor noticing. He was standing closer, a concerned expression on his face.
"Yes," said Cor. "I'm fine."
"You were saying about your coronation," said the ambassador. "Are preparations underway?"
He opened his mouth, but couldn't decide what to say. Yes, they were under way. No, he didn't really want them to be.
"Yes," said Trel, answering for him. "Why?"
The ambassador's eyes flitted between them, as though he wasn't sure whether he should divulge the information to the adviser. Cor nodded.
"The Calormenes," he said. "They wish to attend the coronation."
Trel's forehead creased into leathery crevices and she brushed her grey hair behind her ear.
"But Tisroc Rabadash cannot leave Tashbaan; how does he intend to come to the coronation?"
"The Tisroc does not intend to attend personally," said Aror. "He will send a proxy."
Trel twisted her braid between her aged fingers.
"Then we must account for this in the coronation preparations.," she turned to Cor. "Your majesty, I am aware that you do not wish to open the throne room, but this is a matter for the council. You must summon them and your brother, Prince Corin to discuss this development immediately."
Cor's stomach sank.
"I can't," he whispered.
"I know it is soon," said Trel. "But this is urgent. Treaties will need to be renewed when the Calormenes arrive and we will need to draft them."
"No," said Cor. "You don't understand. I can't summon my brother. He's gone."
"What?" said Trel.
"Your majesty?" said the ambassodor.
"He's gone," said Cor. "Run away. I don't know where yet."
The adviser stared at him for a long moment.
"We must call the council," she said at last. "This is an emergency situation now."
-O-
Cor tilted the heavy key to the side and the locked clicked, echoing around the hallway and from within the throne room. With a deep breath, he pushed back the doors. It had only been a week since the room had been locked, but the air was dry and musty.
His father's empty throne stood on a stage at the top of the room and beside it were two smaller identical chairs, one either side. The princes' seats. Cor's eyes pooled with tears, but he shook them away. The councillors filed into the room behind him. There weren't many of them – Trel, the ambassador, Lord Girin, his father's economic adviser and Lords Dar and Darrin who had always advised his father in everything.
As they pulled tables from the edges of the room to the centre to form a square council table, he tried not to feel like a child who had stepped into his father's clothes hoping nobody would notice.
He glanced around the chamber, chest tightening. The walls seemed to whisper impostor. They knew he wasn't ready. They knew he couldn't do this, but the council couldn't hear.
"We must order a search party," said Lord Dar, as soon as Trel relayed the news about Prince Corin.
Aravis' warning echoed in Cor's mind. How could she tell him not to order a search party, after what he'd seen in his vision? Cor gasped and every eye on the council turned towards him.
"Your majesty?" said Lord Dar.
He shook his head – he hadn't told Aravis about the vision. She wasn't being unreasonable at all. His chest tightened. He'd been so rude to her.
"Should we order the search party?" asked Trel.
"Yes," said Cor, turning towards the exit.
"Your majesty," said the Calormene ambassador. "Where are you going?"
"I just need to get one more person for the council," he said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Let me know what you think :)