Author's note: Once again, dear readers, I must offer my sincere apologies. Three weeks is much too long between updates. I had a summer reading assignment that wanted finishing. I will try to get the next chapter quicker, but I shall not make any promises.
Thanks to all my reviewers! You keep me on track.
Chapter the fourth: Midnight Journeys
As the moon rose to spread her silver-white glow over the slumbering lands and murmuring seas and the winking stars sparkled in the dark expanse of sky, the dull thud of hooves echoed through the tall, somber pine trees of the Shuddering Wood. High in the needle adorned boughs of a particularly tall pane tree, a great horned owl paused his mournful call to turn his big, golden eyes to the forest floor as a coal black horse cantered beneath his tree, leaving an eddy of swirling leaves in his wake. The momentary excitement having passed, the tawny feathered creature returned to his lonely vigil.
Onward the fleet-hoofed horse traveled into the wee hours of the morning, the dark tree trunks falling swiftly behind.
As the moon began to set behind the Western Mountains, the black-cloaked rider began to droop until his head rested on the horse's raven colored mane.
"Galen, wake up!" the horse whispered raspily.
"Wake up, boy!" he ordered louder. Finding his attempts unsuccessful, the stallion slowed to a stop, breathing heavily from his lengthy journeying. Turning his head to look at the rather sorry-looking bundle on his back, Aiolos let out a snort.
"Humans," he thought as he reared up, dumping the sleeping Galen on the forest floor in an undignified heap.
"Ow! Aiolos! What happened? What's happening?"
"You fell asleep, that's what happened, boy. Now we must run again, and you must not fall asleep, for you risk falling off if you do," Aiolos cautioned.
"My apologies, my friend. I shall try to do better," Galen promised, at once contrite.
"'Tis alright, my young companion. Dawn will come soon, and with Morning's fair light we shall rest. Now, mount up," Aiolos replied, tossing his head. Galen did as Aiolos said and remounted. The pair of travelers began their journey again, and Galen kept to his word and did not slumber.
An hour passed, and the moon dipped below the horizon as the eastern sky flamed with greens, blues, and reds. Little wispy clouds near the sea became tinged with gold and crimson, and lovely Aravir, Star of Beauty, Lady of Morning, shone ever-bright between them. Still the stalwart two plodded on through the forest, until, some time later, the sun rose in golden glory to wash the world in light and begin a new day.
Aiolos slowed to a stop, his withers speckled with the sweat of relentless travel.
"Now we may rest, Galen. Here, where the trees are thicker, we can bivouac in relative security.
"Where are we?"
"We are within three bowshots of the southern border of the Shuddering Wood. Look there, on the rise," Aiolos answered. Galen complied, and when he had topped the rise he saw the great pine forest tapering out to a smooth, green plain upon which a silver river shimmered as it snaked its way eastward. In the distance Galen saw the Southern Mountains rising in snow capped majesty against the azure sky.
"By the Lion, I knew not how far our journey would end up taking us," Galen remarked solemnly, his eyes set on the far off slopes of fork peaked Mt. Pire.
"Indeed, my friend, we have yet a long way to travel. We must rest now, during the daylight, and wait until darkness falls to continue. What lies ahead, Galen, holds considerable danger. We must be careful. Now will you be so kind as to remove this cumbersome saddle?"
Galen did so, and Aiolos lay down in the cluster of trees which he had selected. Galen curled up in his cloak on the needle strewn floor and sleep overtook him instantly.
The sun was setting behind the dark Western Mountains when Galen awoke. Aiolos was nowhere to be seen, and Galen began to fear that something had gone wrong. He found, however, upon leaving the thicket that Aiolos was nearby grazing on a convenient patch of clover and grass growing in a shaft of sunlight.
"Ah, good eventide, Galen. You are a deep sleeper indeed. As soon as the sun sets we shall embark, but now eat," commanded Aiolos, falling back to his clover. Galen opened his satchel and pulled out a round, muslin wrapped cake made of almond flour. Galen smiled as he bit into the cake, for his mother had made the cake with a little honey, just as Galen liked. He followed the cake with a shiny golden apple, than held out a second apple to Aiolos. After both quenched their thirst from a nearby stream, the sun had completely set behind the Western Mountains. The once green plain before them was grey in the twilight of the crescent moon's pale beams and the noble Leopard twinkled above them. Galen saddled and bridled Aiolos, ready to begin the journey again. Galen pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as Aiolos directed, for a mysterious rider was less likely to be trifled with. Aiolos trotted to the forest's edge and paused.
"Now, Galen, we must be doubly careful. It is all open country until the mountains begin, so we shall have little cover for the next few days. If we encounter anyone you must speak as little as possible. Tell them nothing that would jeopardize our mission. I shall not be able to aide you in such interactions, for I must appear to be a dumb Telmarine horse," Aiolos instructed, enunciating the last sentence with a hint of indignation.
The necessary precautions taken, Aiolos began his smooth canter, the steady rhythm of hoof beats audible on the wide plain. Galen had never before ventured outside the forest, and felt open and vulnerable on the wide expanse of prairie. He could see his breath puff in a misty cloud before him as they journeyed ever monotonously onward. The dark mountains ahead bobbed with the rise and fall of Aiolos' movement, and Galen ached for the hour when they would reach the protection and cover of their forested slopes.
A couple of hours later they reached the banks of the Archen River, a tributary of the Great River. The water churned and gurgled, swift with the spring snowmelt and silver in the moonlight.
Aiolos plunged into the surging current that was still as cold as a winter wind. The icy water soaked through Galen's leggings and the hem of his cloak, instantly chilling his through until shivers played deep inside his chest. Aiolos swam steadily, seemingly unaffected by the cold water, until his hooves rested on gravel and solid bank.
After a brief respite the two continued their trek across the plains. Soon they came to a pale dirt road on which they began to travel, for it lead directly to the Southern Pass and was the only was they could travel. A small village rose out of the grey horizon, and Aiolos increased his speed to a fleet gallop. The little thatched roofs and brightly lit windows soon passed and faded again into the horizon. Aiolos returned to his cantering.
Many such villages heard hoof beats echo through their deserted street, and many a townsperson peered from his window to puzzle over the passing of the lone, dark rider.
When the sliver of moon rose to its zenith above the starlit plains, Aiolos and Galen halted and turned off the road to a little babbling stream that splashed down from the mountains. There they took a brief rest to eat and be refreshed before continuing down the dusty road.
"How much further have we to travel, Aiolos?" Galen inquired.
"A good day's journey, perhaps more, before we reach the southern mountains. Tonight we will find some place to bivouac during the day, but we must be careful. There are many small villages and farms, but they are of no import. It is the town of Southton and its garrison of soldiers that pose the greatest threat. It lies directly between us and the Southern Pass, and we must travel through it to reach Archenland."
"I suppose we should move on, then, in case we are followed."
"I doubt if that is the case, but it is good to be cautious. Come."
Galen mounted up yet again and the pair continued onward.
The moon dropped, and finally winked out of sight behind the western horizon. The eastern sky began to pale as Aiolos and Galen were passing a small farmhouse. Both horse and rider were exhausted, and Aiolos had slowed his gait to a wearied walk. There was a well near the farmhouse, and it beckoned to Galen as he passed.
"Aiolos, are there any streams or sources of water near here?" Galen inquired of his companion.
"None that I am aware of, Galen. Perhaps we should stop for a moment and drink from this well here. The house is dark, but we must be quick as well as quiet," Aiolos replied, his thirst overruling his caution.
They stopped near the well, and Galen dismounted to draw a bucket of cool water from the depths of the well. Aiolos drank deeply from the large wooden bucket, and when the horse's thirst was gone Galen quenched his own. Just as Galen put the bucket down and made to remount Aiolos, they heard a distinct creak as the sturdy door of the house swung open. The light of a newly kindled fire glowed from the now open door, and grey smoke puffed out of the chimney into the predawn air. The light dimmed as a young woman stepped out of the doorway. She wore an old brown dress with worn sleeves and a creamy woolen shawl draped her shoulders. Her dark curls hung past her shoulders, and she held a crossbow in her hands, which she quickly leveled at the trespassers.
Galen and Aiolos looked up in surprise at the sound of the opening door, and Galen lowered his foot back to the firm ground. His cloak, though, caught on the saddle and the girl could see the straight broadsword at his side—unusual for a Telmarine to carry, for they preferred the slightly curved saber.
"What quarrel have you with us—er—me, lady?" Galen asked as Aiolos turned to face the girl, his eyes bright with the weight of captive words.
"I have no quarrel with you save suspicion, for you act as a thief pursued in the dead of night, yet all you have taken is water, which I would have freely given had you asked," the girl replied, puzzlement and curiosity coloring her steel-girded voice.
"Why, then, do you detain me?"
"I would know who you are, and why you have trespassed on my grandfather's land."
"My horse and I were tired from a night's long journey, and the cool water of your well was indeed a much needed boon for two weary travelers. I apologize for causing you trouble, lady. I did not wish to disturb anyone," Galen replied.
"You seem sincere in that regard, yet you still evade my questions. No matter, though. It is I who seem to have caused the more trouble," she said, lowering the crossbow. "I shall detain you no longer, but I offer the hospitality of mine and my grandfather's house if you would find comfort in a hot meal and a soft bed. Perhaps then you will satisfy my curiosity."
"I thank you for your kind offer, but I must decline," Galen replied, turning to mount.
"I see not why, good sir. There is no other place for the next fifteen miles," she said, now thoughtful. "Perhaps you have a mission of secrecy to complete—one that does not have the blessing of Telmar," she said in lower tones, her dark eyes hardening to look fully into his with a dangerous glint. Gale blanched, but said nothing.
"Perhaps," said she, stepping closer and lowering her voice to a tentative whisper, "a mission of import to…Old Narnia?"
Galen looked as though struck, but regained his composure quickly. He subconsciously curled his hand around the hilt of his sword.
"What know you of such things?"
"I am correct, aren't I? I can see it in your eyes. My grandfather has told me stories of Narnia all my life, though I never thought to see a living Narnian in my lifetime. It is apparent now—your hair, your clothes, your sword. Even the way you stand tells me you are no Telmarine. Trust me, for I speak the truth. You can be assured of safety in my home," the girl spoke earnestly, and to Galen she seemed quite sincere.
Galen looked to Aiolos, and at length he inclined his head in acquiescence.
"It would seem, my good companion, that we have little choice but to accept the lady's hospitality and trust Aslan to keep us between His paws," Aiolos remarked, dropping all pretense. The girl started at the sound of the stallion's deep voice.
"It is true! Grandfather told me of the talking animals, but I never quite believed him," she breathed, eyes aglow with wonder and excitement.
"Come, friends," she said, beckoning. "I am Saliha."
After Galen and Aiolos had similarly introduced themselves, Saliha led them to a barn across from the house and showed Aiolos to a roomy stall with fresh hay and oats in the feeding trough. Galen unburdened Aiolos of his tack and bridle, then bid him good rest.
"Have care, Galen," Aiolos cautioned lowly, his dark brown eyes meeting Galen's with a determined gaze. Galen inclined his head in agreement.
Saliha and Galen left the barn and walked to the house. She opened the door and led Galen into warm firelight.
"Please make yourself comfortable. I shall have breakfast ready shortly," Saliha said, laying her shawl on a nearby chair and bustling about the room. Galen sat in a wooden chair at the table, and soon the delicious aroma of bacon filled the farmhouse and biscuits baked golden-brown in a fire-warmed pan. Galen's stomach growled hungrily, fighting with his heavy eyelids for dominance.
Dawn came now, and the once dark sky was flooded with the brightness of a new day. Saliha shook Galen awake, for his drooping eyelids had been victorious, and placed a wooden plate full with crisp bacon and fluffy biscuits, and a glass of cool milk brought up from the cellar before him. A dish of yellow butter and a jar of good strawberry jam sat on the table within his reach. Galen's mouth began to water at the sight.
"By the Lion, Lady, such bounty! I thank you for your kindness. You have put heart and soul back into a weary, discouraged traveler."
Saliha smiled, and patted Galen's back in an almost motherly way as she softly said, "Eat heartily, then, good sir. I shall return in a moment with grandfather."
She placed two more laden plates on the roughly hewn table and ascended the creaky wooden stairs at the end of the room. Galen happily tucked into his meal, and presently Saliha came down the stairs followed by a stout, sturdy little man. His coarse black hair was streaked with grey, and he wore an old leathern tunic over a cream colored shirt and black breeches.
"Who is this stranger, granddaughter, whom thou hast let into our house unchallenged to eat of our food and perhaps steal what little we have?" The old man could be heard saying crankily as he puffed down the stairs.
"Grandfather!" Saliha reproached. "How couldst thou be so rude?"
At this he merely grunted and sat down to his own breakfast.
As for Galen, he put his fork down upon his now empty plate and addressed Saliha's grandfather.
"Your granddaughter has been most kind, Sir. She has shown hospitality to me, a weary traveler who wishes nothing more than to complete his journey. I am most grateful, for I would not have had shelter, much less warmth and comfort, were it not for her."
"Besides, grandfather, I thought thou wouldst approve," Saliha interjected. "Galen and his mount, Aiolos, are Narnian. Thou hast told me so much of Old Narnia, and of thy sorrow at its demise to the hands of those whose self same blood flows, at least in part, through my veins. I knew thou wouldst not turn them away," Saliha spoke earnestly. Her grandfather started with her revealing of Galen's origins and nodded as she completed her brief, yet compelling speech.
"Thou didst well, Saliha. I welcome thee into my home, my fellow Narnian," he said, and the bright glisten of tears unshed shone from his dark eyes as he continued. "Long have I waited, and long have I suffered here among the Telmarines. It is indeed a blessing to see another Narnian after so many years."
Galen now saw that the old man was truly a black dwarf—one of the few who had pretended to be men in the midst of the Telmarines.
"When thou hast rested, friend, I would hear more of thee and thy mission, but now rest."
Saliha stood, her own breakfast finished, and after picking up a pitcher of water, led Galen up the stairs to a narrow hallway lit by a window at the far end. Four doors lined the walls, two on each side. Saliha opened the door to the last room on the left.
"Here is your room, Galen. 'Tis small, but comfortable. Sleep well."
Galen nodded his thanks and she smiled back as she closed the door after placing the pitcher of water on a small table. Galen looked around the room. It was small, but cozy. The wooden bed had on it a light blue coverlet covered in tiny white flowers, and the curtains fluttering at the window were a fresh, clean white. On the little table was the ceramic pitcher Saliha had left and a small basin to match sitting next to it. A little mirror hung above it, and a blue towel hung on a metal ring beside the mirror.
Galen poured some water in the basin and splashed some on his dirty face. After drying it off, he removed his dusty boots, leggings, tunic, and tabard. He changed into the clean shirt in his satchel, then sank into the soft bed where deep sleep found him at last.
Author's note: There! The longest chapter I've ever written. Please review on your way out. I would really appreciate it. :)
Chapter Name Meanings:
Saliha: virtuous (Arabic)