Author's note: My apologies, once again. June is certainly not as soon as I wanted to update, but life had other plans. As a consolation, this is the longest chapter to date. I hope you enjoy it, and would greatly appreciate your comments. I also increased the rating from K+ to T because of some violence. It isn't all that bad, but I wanted to be sure.

Disclaimer: Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis, not me.

Chapter the Sixth: Flight to Anvard

"Aiolos, I thought you said there was a Southern gate!"

"Apparently not," Aiolos answered a trifle snappishly.

A noise overhead pulled Galen's gaze to the parapet and he watched as Telmarine soldiers flooded the wall. Galen turned Aiolos away from the end of the cul-de-sac and they entered a narrow alley between two rows of closely-packed houses.

"What should we do?" Galen asked in hushed tones.

"We could hide, or try to blend in until they reopen the gate. There is a tavern on the corner. You would be able to blend in well enough amongst its occupants."

A shout rang from the parapet and soldiers began to sweep the city.

"Well, it looks like our only choice," Galen responded.

They rode to the tavern and Galen dismounted.

"Tie the reins loosely to the hitching post so that I can pull them loose if the need arises."

Galen obeyed and walked towards the tavern door, pulling the hood of his cloak up around his head. He pulled open the crude wooden door and dim oily light spilled out into the street. The hum of voices momentarily stopped as Galen entered the tavern and all the occupants turned to look at the newcomer. Galen proceeded to move to an unoccupied table in the corner farthest from the fire and took a seat. Conversation resumed in the tavern. Clustered by the fire were rough-looking, bearded men with mugs of ale trading jokes and stories with small levels of truthfulness.

"So, what do you think about the rumor of a specter from the Black Woods haunting the southern roads, Jaden?" one Telmarine asked his companion.

"It sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me. Those simpletons imagine too much," Jaden replied with harsh laughter.

"There might be truth to the rumors," a wide-eyed wench remarked. "The Black Woods are full of ghosts. It could be a ghost come to take revenge for the conquests of King Caspian the Conqueror."

"What would you know of either ghosts or history, girl?"

"The young lady has a point, Jaden," another patron interjected with a grin. "Even now the soldiers search for some fugitive, and I have heard whispers say they search for the hooded specter."

Meanwhile, another tavern wench with dark wavy hair approached Galen's table. She wore a muslin blouse with ruffled sleeves, a brown gathered skirt and a blue corset top and carried a round tray.

"Can I get anything for you, sir? A mug of ale, perhaps?"

"Yes," Galen replied tersely. "Thank you."

The bar maid turned and moved back to retrieve the requested drink, puzzled by the strange hooded figure enshrouded in shadows. She returned to Galen's table and set a pewter mug of brown ale down in front of him.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and several helmeted soldiers entered the tavern. Murmuring voices hushed and turned to look. The first soldier stepped forward.

"We search for a fugitive. Have any of you seen any strangers?" he asked brusquely. Everyone looked at everyone else, but no one answered. The soldier took a step and seized the blue-clothed maid by the arm, drawing his dagger from its scabbard and pressing the sharp tip to the base of her throat. The girl gasped and the tavern patrons stood as the other soldiers drew their swords.

"Answer me!" The lead soldier demanded.

"The only stranger to come in here is the hooded one in the corner," the wench answered, her voice trembling. A trickle of blood formed at the dagger's tip.

The soldier released the maid and shoved her to the floor. The other girl rushed to her side.

The soldier turned his attention to Galen.

"Identify yourself," he ordered.

Galen stood, still hooded, and gave no answer, resting his hand on his sword. The Telmarine soldier reached up to pull back Galen's hood, but Galen raised his arm to block the Telmarine's hand and delivered a swift kick to his chest that struck the soldier to the floor. Galen drew his sword to meet the blade of the other soldier closest to him, parried the Telmarine's high slash with the flat and delivered a fatal thrust to the Telmarine's heart. The bar maids shrieked and another soldier attacked as the lead soldier regained his footing and attacked at the same time. Clashes of steel rang in the air and a flurry of swords flashed in the firelight as two more soldiers ran inside the tavern. Sir Achaicus had trained Galen well and soon another Telmarine lay on the floor slain by Galen's hand. The occupants of the tavern retreated to cower behind the bar as the four swordsmen fought.

Galen blocked a blow from one Telmarine and kicked another to the ground, ducked a high blow and dispatched the soldier who attempted it. A moment later another soldier fell, leaving Galen to fight just the leader. They went at it hammer and tongs, parry after parry, strike after strike. Finally Galen seized a second's weakness and the leading soldier joined his companions on the wooden floor, his blood mingling with theirs.

Galen ran from the tavern and found Aiolos waiting for him near the door. He paused for the barest moment to plunge his sword into the ground to clean it, then returned it to its scabbard and swung swiftly into the saddle as Aiolos took flight down the alley. One of the soldiers lying on the tavern floor summoned strength enough to blow his horn and sound the alarm with his last breath. The deep horn reverberated in the air and shouts of soldiers and the stomp of galloping horses gave answer.

"What did you do?" Aiolos asked.

"I killed four Telmarine guards."

"So much for blending in. I hope we can find a way out of this death trap of a city."

Pounding hooves thudded through the streets and with shouts they converged on the fleeing pair. Galen drew his sword once more and charged the Telmarine horsemen who blocked his way. One fell to a sharp slash and Aiolos continued to gallop through the Southton streets.

Several more blocked them in again and forced Aiolos to a halt. Galen fought well and dispatched several more Telmarines, but a hard blow from a Telmarine gauntlet unseated him and sent him tumbling to the ground. His sword flew out of his hand and in a flash four soldiers held him fast. Another seized Aiolos' reins. The one who unseated Galen remained on his horse and ordered that Galen be taken to the commander.

The Telmarines took Galen to the turret near the gate and told the guard standing there to inform Commander Despiadado that they had a prisoner.

A few moments later the steely-eyed commander descended the tower's stairs and joined his men.

"You have done well, Lieutenant," Despiadado approved.

"His sword, Commander," the lieutenant stated and handed Galen's broadsword to the commander. Despiadado took the blade and inspected it with a keen eye.

"Interesting. Blue steel, well tempered, well balanced. A fine sword, young one, but an old sword. It carries detailed inscriptions on the flat in a language I have never seen. What do they mean?"

Galen remained silent, replying with a defiant glare that flashed in his blue eyes. The commander frowned. Despiadado slowly circled Galen, the Narnian sword still in his hands.

"You are not Telmarine—your hair is too light, and your eyes carry the defiance of one who has not known the taste of submission or slavery. Telmarine villagers cower too quickly for you to be one of them. Archenlandish, perhaps? Or Terebinthian? Ah, well. You will tell me in time."

Galen continued to remain silent.

"You know not submission, but you will," he said ominously. He completed the circle and stood in front of Galen again and met Galen's eyes with a cold, hard stare of his own.

"Kneel," he commanded.

"I kneel to no one," Galen defied, meeting the commander's gaze evenly.

The commander nodded to the soldiers holding Galen and they forced him down, still glaring, with firm hands remaining on his shoulders.

"Who are you?" Despiadado asked menacingly.

When Galen refused to answer, the commander raised his gloved hand and struck a hard blow to Galen's cheek that sent a trickle of blood slowly snaking down his face. Galen raised his head up and met Despiadado's glare again.

"You may force me to kneel before you, but my spirit remains unbowed. I kneel to only One, and no Telmarine is He."

"We shall see," the commander replied, raising his hand to strike again.

At that moment Aiolos kicked one of the soldiers and pulled his reins from the hands of the Telmarine who held them and ran. Distracted, the soldiers who held Galen momentarily released him. In that moment Galen pulled a dirk from his boot and thrust it into the distracted commander's lower torso. With the momentum he forced the commander to the ground and wrenched his sword from Despiadado's hand. However, the Telmarine commander was not one to fall easily. As Galen retook his sword the commander dealt him a crushing blow that sent Galen backwards into the dirt before falling back himself. The other soldiers rushed to their commander's aid, giving Galen time to run to Aiolos and mount. Aiolos increased his speed from a trot to a full gallop and the pair made for the south end of the city.

"Leave me! After the boy!" the commander's strong voice ordered his soldiers, the voice hardly weakened by Galen's strike. Four obeyed his command and took to their horses while one stayed to help Despiadado into the turret.

Aiolos galloped down another alleyway and momentarily lost the Telmarines following. Both wondered how to escape the city, and at that moment a soft breeze blew past Galen's ear. The wind seemed to carry a trace of a rich, golden voice and a strange, sweet smell that caressed Galen's face. He could not explain it, but felt strongly impressed that he south wall would have an exit.

Apparently with the same thought, Aiolos turned and made for the opening of the alleyway. Narnian hooves pounded the road's dirt as they flew towards the south wall. As they approached it, the moon's silver light struck the wall in such a way that it illuminated a thin metal band that encased a rectangular section of stones in the wall for the barest moment—a flash of light and it was gone. Galen dismounted and found a concealed door in the wall that opened onto the southern mountains. The Telmarines did not trust each other, and left themselves escape routes just in case.

Galen wasted no time in remounting Aiolos and the two galloped for the hills. The guards on the parapet spotted the horse and rider almost immediately and sounded the alarm. From the top of one of the turrets the commander, now bandaged, stood with crossbow in hand.

"Fire at will!" he ordered, and added his bolt his men's.

Almost immediately a hail of crossbow bolts rained down on Galen and Aiolos from the parapet. Aiolos flew as fast as the wind he was named for, but one bolt, Despiadado's, found its mark as they reached the skirts of the Southern Woods. Galen uttered a cry as the bolt imbedded itself in his left shoulder. Aiolos continued to run, and soon they had left Southton's bristling parapet behind. The forest welcomed them within its dark borders as the two found the overgrown path of the Southern Pass and followed it.

"Galen, what happened?"

"A Telmarine bolt," Galen gasped.

"Break the shaft off as closely as you can—it will help if the bolt does not hurt you even more by coming into contact with passing tree limbs. I cannot help you beyond this, but we can make it to Anvard by mid-morning. Hold on tightly, my friend," Aiolos advised, and Galen struggled to obey.

As they raced to Archenland the mountains towered above them, and the pine trees creaked and groaned in the wind. It seemed as though the deep-sleeping dryads still mourned for Narnia. In an hour's time the pine trees began to thin out and become dusted in snow as the eastern sky became tinged with gold. Soon Aiolos picked his footing carefully along the eyebrow trail that the Southern Pass became as it climbed around Mount Argyros. As they rounded the mountain the trail thickened into a ledge that overlooked Archenland. A great swath of green spread out before them and the forked peak of Mt. Pire glistened in the golden morning sunlight. They continued on the trail as it descended the mountains. In a few hours they were cantering through the verdant deciduous forests of Archenland. They came across a clear, babbling stream and Aiolos decided to take a rest. Galen dismounted with a moan and fell to his knees next to the stream. Both drank deeply of the clear Archen stream.

"So this is what freedom tastes like," Galen observed, a trifle melancholy, "clean and sweet. If only Narnia could know this taste again."

"She will once again, Galen. I know not when, but some day the kings and queens of old will return to vanquish the Telmarines and bring freedom to Narnia once more. By preserving one of Narnia's greatest, most powerful treasures, you are aiding that freedom's advent more than anything else."

Galen paused for a moment, and then spoke again.

"Aiolos, I have committed a great wrong."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The Telmarine commander—I attacked him without warning, wounded him in the basest of fashions, and in so doing betrayed the honor of my Order."

"You have not betrayed your honor, Galen. The Telmarines had no honor in what they did to Narnia, the Telmarine commander had no honor in what he did to you, and you had little choice. If we were to escape and complete this mission you had to do what you did."

"Perhaps so, Aiolos, but it still does not feel right."

"It never will, Galen. Come, Anvard's gates are not too far away."

Galen remounted and Aiolos surged forward with renewed strength. As the sun climbed higher in the sky the high grey towers of Anvard came into view above the trees, the green and gold Archenland flag snapping proudly in the wind at every turret. The Narnians emerged from the trees and crossed the small plain to the wide, open gate of the Anvard castle. Many people bustled in and out of the gate, and the pair did not go unnoticed as they entered. Aiolos, as a talking horse, was somewhat larger than the dumb Archen horses, and several people murmured in puzzlement at the sight of the unusually large horse and wounded rider. A green-clad Archen guard stopped the pair at the inner entrance to the caste.

"What business have you in Anvard, sir?"

"We must meet with King Lorn. We come on a matter of the greatest importance," Galen replied, dismounting. Galen's legs buckled underneath him for a moment, but Aiolos steadied him.

"Perhaps you would like to rest first, sir, and have a healer tend to your wound. Your horse will be well taken care of."

"I am no one's horse, young one," Aiolos interjected, startling the guard and causing a few of the gathered crowd of people to gasp. "We have both come on this mission and we will both see the king."

"My injury can wait, although I thank you for your concern. We must speak with King Lorn. We have come across the mountains from Narnia to seek his aid," Galen continued.

"Telmarine! How dare you set foot in this castle!" the guard gave as answer, drawing his sword.

"Does a free Narnian horse allow a Telmarine to ride him? We come from the Narnian Remnants' Council," Aiolos declared. A murmur went through the crowd:

"Narnians!"

"We have not heard from them for decades!"

"We thought them all dead!"

"If you indeed speak the truth, then you are both most welcome in Archenland," the guard replied, replacing his sword in its scabbard. "Come with me, I will show you to King Lorn immediately."

Galen and Aiolos followed the guard into the castle. The walls and floor were made of stone and hung with colorful tapestries depicting events of Archenland's history—of Fair Olvin and Lady Liln, of the great battle with Rabadash the Ridiculous, of King Cor and Queen Aravis, of Prince Corin's fight with the great bear of the mountains, of King Ram the Great, and of the two battles of Mount Argyros-one that kept the White Witch from enslaving Archenland and the other the one that kept the Telmarines from doing the same.

The hallway opened into a great throne room composed of the same grey stone with white marble columns. Torches flickered in wall brackets, light flooded in from the stained glass windows on the balcony level, and behind the two marble thrones the Archen flag—a golden gryphon on a hunter green field—hung from the balcony railing. King Lorn and Queen Leila sat upon the thrones and were at present conducting some business with an ambassador from Galma.

King Lorn was a tall, broad-shouldered man with light brown hair and blue eyes in his mid forties and wore a blue shirt, leather jerkin, brown breeches, and tall boots. He was a kind, fair ruler with a strong sense of duty to the country he served. Queen Leila had wavy golden hair, green eyes, was about the same age as her husband, and wore a flowing blue dress. She held great love for Archenland and tempered her husband's sword with the gentle hand of wisdom.

"My king and queen," the guard cried loudly, "forgive the interruption. I bring travelers from the Narnian Remnants' Council who greatly desire an audience with your majesties." The Archen monarchs looked up in surprise at the mention of the Narnian Council and made their apologies to the Galman ambassador.

"By all means, sirs, come forward and state your business," King Lorn addressed Galen and Aiolos. Galen and Aiolos approached the king and queen and Galen bowed politely.

"We have come a great ways, and we ask that you grant us sanctuary. The Telmarines were loathe to let us leave peaceably, but by the grace of Aslan we escaped with our lives," Galen began.

"What matter could be of such great significance that it would require you to risk your lives and seek sanctuary in Archenland?"

"I beg your pardon, King Lorn, but the matter cannot be discussed in open court," Aiolos interjected. "Of your courtesy, grant us a private audience so that we may better discuss the matter at hand."

"Court will recess for lunch in a short while. If you would care to join us for midday repast, you could tell your tale in confidence then," Queen Leila answered. "As Narnians, our sworn allies, we grant you the sanctuary you have requested."

"My thanks," Galen said, inclining his head. His head did not raise, however, but drooped further towards the stone floor. Galen leaned against Aiolos for a moment, but still the thrones in front of him became blurred until they spun away and dark oblivion encompassed him as he crumpled to the floor.

Name meanings:

Despiadado is Spanish for "ruthless"

Argyros is Greek for "silver"

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