Author's note: Finally! A timely update! This chapter, dear readers, is what I wanted to get to in the previous chapter. The last chapter is the fluff to this chapter's meat. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
I would also like to apologize for the absurd length of this chapter. At my last check, it has just exceeded 8,600 words. So, grab some popcorn, put your feet up, and feel free to tell me that I've completely lost my mind.
Finally, apologies to my dear friend Fierce Queen. My Star Trek reference in the last chapter was less than clear. This one's reference, hopefully, is much more apparent and from one of our favorite Original Series episodes (and an episode where I much prefer the un-remastered version). I would also like to make it abundantly clear that any references to Star Trek are to real Star Trek, not this newfangled nonsense. You shall find neither 2009 nor Into Darkness among any of my references, I assure you!
Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia (or Star Trek). See previous chapters.
Chapter the Twenty-Eighth: Farewell to Archenland
28 Mayblossom 2076
The next day dawned fair and bright as the Archen monarchs and the two Narnians departed Silvercreek manor and its newlywed owners. The prime minister had departed the evening before, being recalled to Anvard by some forgotten legislative business. The horses stood ready as the friends exchanged fond farewells.
"Thank you so much for everything, my lady! Safe travels!" Niusha beamed as she embraced Lyra.
"I am so happy for you both. Aslan watch over you!" The princess returned.
Galen happily shook Emeth's hand and offered Niusha a smiling bow. Yet, he was happy as he mounted Aiolos and made, once more, for Anvard. The sea's call had not waned, and he was eager to seek the East.
The evening before, long after the wedding guests had retired, Galen and Aiolos returned to Barnsdale to call on Jonas. The Archen blacksmith had completed his task beautifully, and Galen had thanked him earnestly. Though Jonas could not help but be confused as to the Narnian's plans, the Archenlander graciously refrained from questioning him, instead praying that Aslan would guide his way.
The way to Anvard passed easily, but Galen quickly noticed upon their return to the great castle that something was amiss. A messenger stood somberly at the keep entrance as the monarchs drew their horses to a stop.
"What news have you, friend?" The king asked as he and his wife dismounted.
"Our ambassador to Calormen returned to Anvard this morning, my king. The Calormenes have ejected him from the country."
Lyra looked up at her brother with her eyes wide.
"What does that mean? What has happened?" Galen asked, concern in his voice.
"It means, my friend, that precious little stands between us and war," Ayden answered grimly.
Lyra and Ayden disappeared hurriedly with the king and queen, following the messenger to the council room where the Archen ambassador to Calormen waited.
Galen, feeling thoroughly helpless, busied himself with seeing to all the horses, including his fellow Narnian. When he was finished, the young knight found himself pacing the terrace absentmindedly. The thought of war worried him, not only for his own sake but for the sake of his friends. A few hours later, Lyra emerged from the corridor onto the terrace, her face ashen despite the warm glow of the setting sun.
"My friend, what is going on?" Galen asked anxiously, but upon seeing his friend his anxiousness turned to concern. The Archen princess stepped uncharacteristically slowly, preoccupied in thought. "Lyra, are you alright?" The Narnian rushed forward.
"I'm alright, Galen," Lyra shook herself out of her reverie and smiled weakly, leaning on the parapet railing.
"I've never seen anything trouble you so. What evil rears its head in Calormen?" Galen asked gravely, concern written upon his face. The Archen princess rested her head in her hand a moment, her eyes downcast. Taking a deep breath, she returned her friend's gaze and spoke more resolutely.
"The Tisroc was enraged at the death of his son, Prince Karim. Our ambassador reports that Prince Karim's guard returned his body to Tashbaan about a week after we returned to Anvard, and the Tisroc wept bitterly before the entire court. When Prince Karim's guards told the tale of his death and our escape (what little they knew of it), the Tisroc flew into a savage temper. He ordered all the prince's guards killed, and very nearly killed our ambassador. He stayed his hand at the last moment, though, and decided instead to send Ambassador Ryland back with a list of exorbitant demands to compensate for his loss. It has taken this length of time for the Ambassador to travel back to Anvard."
"But his son was in the wrong!" Galen protested.
"It matters not to him," Lyra scoffed. "His first demand is that father send me back to Tashbaan to wed his eldest son." The Archen princess had clenched her fist as she spoke, the knuckles turning white.
Galen paled. "How can he demand such a thing?!"
An angry tear splashed upon the terrace parapet, and Lyra drew a shuddering breath. "Oh, Galen, will I never be free of them?"
The Narnian slipped an arm around his friend's shoulders as more tears of anger and frustration joined their sister on the parapet wall.
"What have I done that I have brought the land I love to the brink of war?" The Archen princess despaired. "And this would be such a war," her voice filled with dread, "the conflict with the Telmarines last month would seem a merry jousting tournament. And what is even more infuriating is that it would be a war I could not fight," Lyra's voice took on another layer of frustration. "Every tarkaan, every soldier, even every messenger boy, would target me for capture and revenge. I cannot fight at my brother's back when I would serve only to bring more swords to it."
"It is not your fault, Lyra. Besides, how can we be sure this will lead to war?"
"Thank you, Galen, but I cannot see how it will not lead to war. The Tisroc knows as well as I do that father will never accede to his demands. Archenland is a proud country, and we would never roll over like a cowering dog before the feet of the Tisroc's throne. Even in his grief, he seeks a pretense to justify conquest."
"Is there nothing that can be done?" Galen asked earnestly.
"It would seem that our quest for the East has come at a most opportune time. It will take several weeks at the least for father to send a response, and by the time the diplomatic options fail, we will be well beyond the Lone Islands, I would think. It would be better for my country, at least, if I was thought lost at sea," Lyra responded with a wry smile.
Galen returned her smile, taking her hand in his and looking the princess in the eye just as she had done with him the week before in Aradale.
"My friend, I cannot hope to know how difficult this must be for you. But it may be that the horizon is not so dark as it would seem. Aslan has protected this land on many occasions, and I cannot believe that He will fail to do so now." The Narnian spoke from the heart, and Lyra could not help but find her heart encouraged by his kind, earnest words.
"Thank you, my friend," she smiled, the old spark returning in some small measure to her eyes. "Perhaps I may yet enjoy the adventure that lies ahead."
The evening waxed late, and the moon's waning crescent found Archenland's crown prince pacing the long grasses of Lyra's glen. It was the one place he could be sure he was alone, and here he, in angry tones, sought to reason with the wind.
"I cannot abandon her to sail to the end of the world, to face sea serpents, some mysterious unknown enemy, and Aslan-knows-what, but I cannot abandon mother and father with the Calormenes threatening war!" The Archen prince threw a stone at the water and sat down on the bank in frustration, his brow furrowed and his green eyes dark.
"Aslan, what do I do?" He despaired.
"You will do what you are meant to do," a deep, quiet Voice answered him calmly.
Ayden jumped to his feet at the unexpected sound to see the Great Lion Himself sitting beside the pool.
"My Lord," Ayden knelt and averted his wide-eyed gaze to the grass at the Lion's feet.
"Rise, prince of Archenland," Aslan chuckled. Ayden obeyed, but stood speechless before the Great Lion.
"Do not be afraid, dear one," Aslan smiled, and Ayden found his racing heart stilled at the sound of His voice. The young Archen prince sank down to sit in the soft grass at the Lion's feet.
"Aslan, what am I meant to do?"
The Lion chuckled once more. "You will be a great king of Archenland, Ayden. Trust that you will make the best decision for you and your people."
"Aslan, how can I know what is the best decision?" Ayden asked earnestly, seeking in the Lion's eyes the answers his heart could not provide. "I cannot abandon my sister, but I cannot abandon my country. What choice have I?"
"You do not abandon either your sister or your country, Ayden," Aslan answered. "Your sister walks a path that is for her, and her alone. You may choose to share that path with her for a time, but in the end it would still be she who faces the challenge and she who must conquer it."
"Will I ever see her again if I do stay behind? I cannot bear the thought!"
"No one is ever told any story but his own, dear one. The decision must be yours alone."
Ayden looked down for a moment, and then returned his gaze to the Great Lion. "What of Calormen?"
Aslan's countenance darkened almost imperceptibly. "The armies of Calormen pose a great threat to Archenland, but for all the Tisroc's railing he is a weak man who will not risk war without the full support of his most powerful tarkaans. But do not let the comfort of these words deceive you, Ayden. Calormen is a constant threat against which you must always be prepared to fight. You must not let Archenland become weary of resisting, for on that day it will fall."
Ayden's countenance fell, turning his gaze to the pool with hardening eyes as he pondered the Lion's words.
"Do not fear, prince of Archenland. I am with you always," Aslan spoke, His voice filling the air of the glen with a sweet, golden smell and calming Ayden's soul like a tranquil river. When the young prince looked up from the pool, the Lion was gone.
29 Mayblossom 2076
Galen awoke the next morning with a feeling of urgency. This morning, finally, he would, with Aslan's grace, put an end to the Knife worship once and for all. Lyra had recovered from last night's despair and had thrown herself happily into preparing for the execution of her unique plan. With all set in readiness the night before, Galen leaned back against the pillows as he pondered. He surely hoped it would work, but rather wished the ordeal was already over.
Finally, the Narnian pulled himself out of bed and dressed for the day ahead. Not soon enough for his liking, a bright clarion sounded as the court of Anvard assembled in all its finery. Each lord and lady wore his or her best attire and stood with happy anticipation to see the Stone Knife returned to its gallery after the long weeks of absence. Lord Trelain had heightened their anticipation with his flowering words over the past days.
Galen stood upon the great stairway of the throne room, dressed in his velvet tunic and carrying the carved mahogany box. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped its edges, nervous at the thought of what he needed to accomplish in the next few minutes. Taking a deep breath, the young knight steadied himself and looked up to the assembled courtiers, meeting their eyes and steeling himself for what lay ahead. The Narnian stepped surely down the marble stairs and traversed the corridor to the Stone Knife gallery. Standing within were the most senior lords of parliament (with Lord Trelain foremost among them) and the royal family. As the other courtiers clustered into the gallery behind him, Lyra, clothed in a shimmering white gown, caught his gaze and smiled reassuringly. The necklace at her neck sparkled a brilliant blue, and Galen found his courage as he reached the pedestal and turned to face the assembly.
"My lords and ladies of Archenland, I wish to thank you for the kindness and hospitality you have shown me. I am little more than a refugee, and yet you have given me every help. The land of Archenland is a beautiful and peaceful land, and, all things being equal, I would be pleased to call it my home. Yet, I will not deceive you, friends. I am greatly troubled by the manner in which a great many of Archenland's citizens, many if yourselves included, have come to worship the Stone Knife for the power it has shown. I have heard prayers uttered to It and pleas uttered to myself, and I am terrified that Archenland has forgotten the truth— that the Knife is a mere reflection of Aslan's great power, and I am nothing but His humble servant. The Knife is not an object deserving worship! None deserve that but Aslan Himself. As a Knight of the Order of the Lion's Redemption, it is my sworn duty to protect the Stone Knife— not for what it is, but for that to which it bears witness: the power and great love of the Lion. My lords and ladies all, listen to what I say today!" Galen's voice increased in volume, an impassioned fervor animating his voice and mesmerizing those who listened. "The greatest gift Aslan has given is His love, and He has given it to each of us! I implore you not to waste so great a gift on anyone less than Aslan himself!" Galen laid the box on the pedestal and opened the cover to reveal the Knife. It gleamed in the light and those present could not help but sigh in admiration. Galen turned to the pedestal and gingerly took the Knife in his upturned hands. "It deeply pains my heart to say that the greatest threat to the legacy of the Stone Knife is the Stone Knife itself."
"My lord, what are you saying?" Lord Trelain interjected in puzzlement and dismay.
"I am saying, my lord, that if you will not heed my words, perhaps my actions may be more persuasive." The Narnian knight brought his hand to the Knife's hilt and held it perpendicular to the floor. "As a knight of the Lion's Redemption I cannot stand idly by and allow its message to be so evilly twisted! May Aslan forgive me, I do what I must."
The courtiers' faces were filled with confusion, which quickly turned to horror as Galen lifted the Knife high in the air and then propelled it to the ground with brutal force. The obsidian blade struck the unforgiving stone floor and shattered into an infinite number of sparkling black shards. Many of the women screamed as the Knife fell, and men shouted for Galen to stay his hand, but it was too late. As an uproar ensued, Galen rose from the kneeling position where the exertion of mustering enough force had left him to stand silent and resolute, lifting his eyes to the golden light that streamed from the upper windows.
After a moment the king came forward and quieted the court. His face showed that he, too, was deeply troubled, but also deep in thought.
"My lords and ladies, I do not know what to say in light of this grievous act. I am as dismayed at Sir Galen's actions as each of you."
"Your majesty," Galen dropped to one knee before the king and bowed his head, "I place myself at your mercy."
"We will retire to consider the appropriate course of action, my lords and ladies," the king gravely continued, "but we would each do well to consider Sir Galen's words and search our own souls before we dare to condemn his. The Royal Court of Archenland stands adjourned."
The king, followed closely by the queen, strode from the room as the shell-shocked courtiers made way. The loud murmur of confused voices filled the air as the courtiers began to talk amongst themselves. The lords and ladies surged forward towards Galen, but Ayden stepped in front of the Narnian and held out a cautionary hand. Galen stood, Lyra's reassuring hand upon his arm as he left the gallery escorted by the prince and princess. The courtiers would have pressed closely, but found themselves silent as they watched with shock and anger the knight they had so idolized mere moments before.
Not soon enough for Galen, he and Lyra reached the top of the stairs and turned out of sight. In a few moments, the two reached the little turret-room that belonged to the princess and entered. As soon as the door shut behind him, Galen broke into relieved laughter.
"Oh Lyra, I have never been so nervous in all my life, but that felt good!"
"Galen, my friend, you were simply marvelous!" The Archen princess walked to the window seat as she spoke. She had surreptitiously taken the empty mahogany box from the pedestal as they left the gallery, and she now laid it open on one of the cushions. Pulling up one of the other cushions, she gently removed an object carefully wrapped in cloth from the space below. As she did so, her necklace began to glow with its own blue light. "Your words brought such a chill to my heart I almost forgot that you had no intention of destroying the Knife," Lyra continued as she unwrapped the object, revealing the familiar obsidian blade and glowing sapphire pommel of the true Stone Knife. The princess gingerly cradled the Knife in her upturned hands, lifting it towards her Narnian friend.
"Jonas indeed did his job exceedingly well," Galen spoke in soft admiration as he took the Knife from Lyra and laid it gently on its blue velvet cushion. "His duplicate felt so real that I found myself triple checking to make sure my sword hilt was not glowing. I so hated to destroy his beautiful work."
Lyra chuckled. "Agreed! Though you played your role exceedingly well, my friend. As for me, I am afraid the look on Lord Trelain's face made it very difficult to feign shock!"
"That was, I must confess, the best part! It would seem we have all given command performances today, Lyra. The king especially so."
"Indeed. Father wished to see this abominable Knife-worship eradicated almost as much as you. I dearly hope that we have succeeded."
"Aslan willing, we have. I cannot see that anyone would pray to an object they believe to be destroyed."
Silence filled the room for a moment as Galen closed the box's cover and returned the box to his satchel. Lyra was sitting on the window seat and found herself staring pensively at the horizon, but after a moment she looked back at her Narnian friend with a furrowed brow.
"If Aslan had not appeared with word of His Eastern sanctuary for the Knife and the only way to stop the Knife-worship was to destroy the real Knife, would you have done so?"
Galen sat on the seat beside her and looked down in thought for a moment. "Every word I spoke today in the Gallery came from my heart," the Narnian spoke softly, his gentle eyes hardening resolutely. "Yes, I would have destroyed it if there had been no other way."
30 Mayblossom 2076
The next morning the sun hid his face behind a bank of low-hanging grey clouds. A chill wind blew fitfully, bringing the scent of rain with it. Lyra had arranged for Galen's meals to be brought to his room in order to avoid the unwelcome and hostile attention that would now attend his presence wherever he went. News of the Stone Knife's supposed destruction had traveled faster than the winds, and even now Galen looked out his window to see Anvard's gate shut to keep a crowd of village folk at bay.
About mid morning, he was reading beside the fire when he heard a firm knock at his door. The Narnian opened it to find an Archen soldier standing at the threshold.
"I have orders to escort you to the throne room, my lord."
"Of course," Galen replied. "If you would give me a moment," he turned back to the room and laid his book down on the dresser. After ensuring that the top drawer was locked and buckling his sword-belt around his waist, Galen walked down the hallway and to the throne room, the Archen soldier close behind him. He stepped deliberately down the great staircase, looking once more upon the entire Royal court, who somberly turned their eyes upon him. The Archen soldier remained at the foot of the stairs as Galen continued down the length of the throne room. He proudly wore his grandfather's tabard and walked with his head held high as he approached the dais where the king and queen sat.
"Sir Galen of the Lion's Redemption," the king spoke. "I believe you know why we have summoned you."
"Indeed I do, your majesties," Galen replied, drawing his great sword and holding it briefly in salute. Dropping to one knee, the young knight laid the sword on the marble floor in front of him. "I am at your mercy, my king. Do with me as you will."
The king stood and indicated for Galen to rise. "The destruction of the Stone Knife has troubled us greatly. Yet, we know that you took such action with the noblest of purposes. After much thought, the queen and I have come to the conclusion that this deed is not for us to judge. The Stone Knife was in your keeping, and yours alone. We will not presume to stand in judgment where Aslan Himself holds surest jurisdiction." The king paced as he spoke, lifting his eyes briefly to meet the eyes of the lords and ladies assembled. "Many of Archenland's subjects have expressed trepidation that your presence may bring Aslan's retribution to our land. Archenland wishes to remain your friend, as I promised the day we met, but I cannot ignore the concerns of my people. Within the week, the Princess Lyra will be embarking on a diplomatic voyage to Galma, Terebinthia, and the other island domains. If you will, you are welcome to join her company. Perhaps in this voyage you will find what you seek."
Galen inclined his head in agreement. "You have my thanks, your majesty. It will be my honor to join the princess's voyage. I am grateful for all that Archenland has done for me, and I regret that we must part under such circumstances."
"Then we wish you well, Sir Galen," the king extended his hand and Galen took it in a firm warrior's handshake. "May Aslan bless your way."
The king returned to his throne and declared the Royal court adjourned. Galen bowed deeply, retrieving his sword and returning it to its scabbard before turning to walk the aisle of courtiers one final time.
That evening, the Archen royal family took a long last meal together before the journey to Ramstowne. Lyra lingered as long as she could, but at last resigned herself to finishing the inevitable packing necessary before tomorrow's early ride for Ramstowne. Ayden sat on the window seat as his sister hurried back and forth between her wardrobe and traveling trunk.
"I do so hate having to pack so much, but the Duchess of Terebinthia is so very stuck up about fashion that she would make the visit unbearable if I so much as wear the same dress twice in the same week," Lyra said with irritation as she folded a blue satin dress into the trunk.
"Not to mention the Governor's wife in the Lone Islands," Ayden added with a twinkle in his eye.
"Ugh. I had almost forgot about her," Lyra rolled her eyes. "I don't know what it is about the petty island domains that prompts such absurd, unjustified arrogance," Lyra's muffled voice echoed from the depths of the wardrobe. "The queen of the Seven Isles is a perfectly pleasant lady. It's these duchesses and governors wives that seem to think they have something to prove," she hurried back with several cloaks and two pairs of boots.
"I'm thankful I've never had to deal with them. At least the only thing the governors and dukes do is give unsolicited and inaccurate military advice. Their wives always seem to have their corsets pulled too tightly. I think it makes them snappish," Ayden observed.
"I'll agree with that," Lyra laughed dryly as she locked the trunk and pulled a large leather valise from beneath the bed. As she finished packing the last dress, she realized that Ayden had stopped conversing and was absentmindedly staring out the window into the dark night sky.
"Have you decided whether you will be sailing with me, brother?" Lyra asked quietly, sitting on the window seat next to him. Ayden stopped staring at the stars and looked down.
"Aslan appeared to me last night," he answered quietly, finally meeting her gaze.
"He did?!" Lyra exclaimed, eyes wide. "What did He say?"
"Well, He said the choice was mine, but He seemed to indicate that I ultimately cannot help you in the East," Ayden looked down again, his voice wavering. "And that the Calormene threat is my most pressing concern— one that will last for years."
"I see," Lyra said, her heart sinking.
"It well nigh tears my heart in two to think of not being by your side," Ayden spoke sadly, "But my place is here in this time of turmoil. I cannot leave Archenland vulnerable."
"I agree," Lyra replied, then paused quietly. "I— It—" she said at last, her voice catching and stumbling over the words. "I cannot bear the thought that I have brought such a threat of war and ruin to Archenland," a tear slipped down her cheek and she tried to quickly brush it away.
"Oh, Lyra," Ayden quickly embraced his sister tightly. "I never want to hear you say such a thing again! You are not to blame for what the Calormenes have done, and there is nothing you could have done differently that would change what is. Do not take this upon yourself," he spoke fervently, kissing the top of her head.
"Thank you, brother," Lyra laughed a little, still returning his embrace. "Oh, I shall miss thee," she sighed after a moment.
"As shall I, sister," Ayden sighed as well. "But we shall enjoy these next days as we travel to Ramstowne."
"Aye, we are not separated yet," Lyra smiled.
1 Greenroof 2076
The next day, the pale gold of sunrise had barely begun to lighten the Eastern sky and the birds had barely begun to sing when those who would be traveling to Ramstowne assembled in the castle courtyard. Galen stood beside Aiolos, securing a large leather bag to the Horse's saddle. The Narnian wore his grandfather's tabard and cloak, his quiver of arrows at his back and his sword by his side. His grandfather's sword, which had not seen much use of late, was strapped securely to the saddle's pommel next to the saddle-quiver that held his bow.
"Are you well, my friend?" Galen asked.
"Perfectly, my lad," the Horse answered. "I am looking forward to traveling the woods again."
"The saddle isn't too tight, is it?"
"No, it's just right. You worry too much, my friend," the Horse chuckled.
As they spoke, the knights who would be escorting them to the coast double checked their saddles and the Royal family stepped out into the courtyard. Ayden, Lyra, and King Lorn wore traveling clothes, but the queen wore a dress of soft green velvet. Although she wanted to accompany her daughter to the coast, the king and queen had decided that with the Calormenes threatening war it was important for at least one of them to remain at Anvard. As was her custom during a time of threat, the queen kept her sword hanging on her belt. Throughout the years, the Anvard soldiers had come to draw comfort from the practice, finding reassurance that their queen stood with them. The king, for his part, would take several days in Ramstowne to oversee a naval exercise as part of a critically important effort to convey strength to both the people of Archenland and the strategists of Calormen.
As the group prepared to leave, Lyra embraced her mother tearfully. After bidding the queen one last farewell, the king strode to the head of the column where his charger stood and gave the command to mount up.
"Off at last, my friend," Galen spoke softly as he mounted, and Aiolos whinnied in response. Lyra took her horse from one of the stable hands and took her place next to Ayden and his charger. Just as the golden beams of dawn began to burst above the trees, a clear horn sounded and the column began to move out. The twelve knights accompanying the party carried lances with green pennants that snapped in the wind, and at the end of the column a small supply wagon followed.
The column of horsemen turned east and slightly south, entering the lush green forest along a well-worn path. The light shone green through the leaves and the birds now welcomed the morning in their high-pitched voices as the Archenlanders made their way to the sea. Galen found himself next to Sir Torban and behind Lyra and Ayden, and was able to make pleasant conversation on the subject of various musical forms and instruments. However, though the individuals present did not shy from conversation, a pensive mood pervaded the traveling party and after a time, each person would fall silent as he pondered the uncertainty of the days ahead.
That evening, the travelers made camp a half-day's ride from Ramstowne. They had ridden hard that day and made excellent time, but as they had come closer to their destination they had turned to approach Ramstowne from the north. Now, the riders camped in the thick forest that adorned the southernmost spurs of Stormness Mountain, and Galen found himself fascinated with the great pavilion-tents that now stood beneath the oak trees. Each tent stood quite tall, tall enough for a person to stand upright, and was made of green canvass trimmed with gold and stamped with the Archen gryphon. The pavilions formed a circle around a large campfire where a servant was seeing to the evening meal.
Galen stood with Aiolos, freeing his friend from the cumbersome saddle and making sure the Horse was warm and comfortable.
"I hope you are well, my friend," Galen asked concernedly as he brushed the Horse's mane. "I dislike working you so hard. A Narnian Horse should not bear such a burden," the young man sighed.
"You worry too much, young one," Aiolos chuckled dryly. "I should hope I am not yet an old grey mare fit only for pasture."
"I'm sorry, my friend," Galen laughed, sitting down on a nearby log. He looked through the tree-tops to the deep purple sky above them. "The sky is beautiful tonight."
"Aye, Spearhead glimmers like a great diamond," the Horse stood next to him, playfully pushing his young friend off the log with his front hoof.
"Hey!" Galen laughed. "For what do I owe that, pray tell?"
"For naught," Aiolos whinnied contentedly, nudging his friend's sandy hair with his velvety nose.
"I hope you will be alright upon the seas, my lad," Aiolos spoke more seriously. "I wish I could come with you."
"I wish so as well," Galen sighed. "Do not worry for me, though, my friend. I'll be alright," the young Narnian smiled.
"Make sure of it, lad," Aiolos feigned severity. "Now off with you! We shall have an early start on the morrow."
"Fair evening, Aiolos," Galen answered, smiling as the Horse nudged him towards the campfire. "Sleep well."
2 Greenroof 2076
The second day of Greenroof dawned clear, although a thin grey band of rainclouds massed to the north. That morning, Galen awoke early and began to prepare to depart, saddling the spare horse that had been brought for him.
"Did you sleep well, my friend?" Lyra asked cheerfully as she came to see to her own horse.
"Aye, and you?" Galen answered with a smile.
"Likewise," she smiled in return as she tightened the girth on her horse's saddle, the cool morning breeze fluttering the sleeves of her green linen riding dress.
As they spoke, the king walked over to them and began to see to his horse.
"Good morn, your majesty," Galen greeted.
"Good morning, Sir Galen," King Lorn returned. "I am glad you are both here. I wished to speak with you a moment."
"Of course, father," Lyra answered. "Is anything the matter?"
"Nay, nothing is amiss. I understand our Narnian friends have some business to conclude before proceeding to Ramstowne," the king began, nodding at Galen as he spoke. "If it is agreeable, we will take the morning easily and meet you this evening at the bluff overlooking Ramstowne."
""That would be most agreeable, my lord," the Narnian answered. "Thank you."
"By your leave, father, I would like to go with them," Lyra requested. The king considered a moment before answering.
"Very well, as long as you will take Ayden with you, and perhaps one or two of the knights."
"Of course, father, thank you," Lyra smiled. "We shall see you this evening," she quickly embraced her father before hurrying off to retrieve her brother.
Before the sun rose much higher, Galen, Lyra, and Ayden, as well as Torban and Reinald, galloped northeast from the campsite. Galen still rode Aiolos, but without the cumbersome saddle, while Reinald lead the extra horse. Bearing towards the north, the horses began to climb rockier ground, and soon the great, towering peak of Stormness Head loomed above them, its stony ridges sharp against the bright blue sky. A dark green velvet skirt of trees covered the mountain's flanks, and the air grew cooler as they climbed. Had they followed the path farther up, it would have lead to the treacherous Stormness Pass, but they bore further east and skirted the edge of the Stormness wilderness. After stopping for a quick mid-day repast beside a chortling mountain stream, the knights continued their ride eastward. By late afternoon, the horses' hooves thudded against the soft white sands of the Archen coast. Aiolos and Galen turned to the north, and their friends followed. Though the cliffs were steep where the mountains plunged their stony roots into the churning blue sea, Aiolos knew well the path he sought. It traced its way to the tops of the cliffs and danced across them as it wound northwards. Soon, Aiolos spied the thin grey ribbon of a trail that climbed its way through the stony shoreline and into the thick forest above them, around the north of Mount Stormness and into the heart of the Narnian forests south of the Glasswater River. As they reached it, Aiolos slowed to a halt and his companions did likewise. The knights hung back a little and held the horses, while Galen and his friends continued a little ahead.
"Is this the path, Aiolos?" Galen asked after he dismounted.
"Aye, my friend. It leads up into the far eastern reaches of the Shuddering Wood, where several of my cousins and their herd live."
"Will you be safe, my friend?"
"Indeed I shall, Galen. More so than you, I fear," the Horse answered. "Worry not for me. You and I both well know the Telmarines' fear of the sea. They will not harry me, especially this far south of the Glasswater River."
"Good," Galen nodded.
"It would seem that our journeys together are at an end, my friend," Aiolos spoke, his brown eyes deep and gentle. "It has been an honor to aid you in your quest."
"Thank you, my dear friend," Galen responded, his voice catching. "It has been an honor to be in your company and I am ever-grateful for your counsel and for your friendship. I shall miss you greatly," Galen embraced the Horse's neck.
"Every time I look to the sea, I shall think of you, my lad. You shall always be in my prayers."
"Thank you, Aiolos," Galen smiled.
"I trust that there will come a day when I shall look to the sea and see you returning upon it. Aslan be with you," Aiolos spoke at last.
"And also with you, my friend," the young Narnian replied.
"It has been a pleasure to know you and to fight beside you, my good Horse," Lyra approached and spoke sincerely, and her brother spoke a similar farewell. "May Aslan bless you."
"Likewise, my lord and lady," Aiolos inclined his long head. "May Aslan keep you ever between His paws. Fare ye well, my friends," the Horse finished sincerely before turning and walking towards the path.
"Wait a moment, Aiolos!" Galen called after him momentarily and ran to catch up. "I almost forgot!"
"What is it, my friend?" Aiolos asked.
"Could you take this letter with you and make sure my mother gets it?" Galen asked, holding out a small leather pouch. "I'm sure one of the squirrels could deliver it once you reach the Shuddering Wood."
"Of course, my lad," Aiolos chuckled. "I would be happy to."
Galen hung the pouch around the Horse's neck and embraced him once last time. "Fare thee well, my friend," the young Narnian spoke softly.
"Fare thee well, young one," the Horse nudged the boy with his velvety head and turned once more to the wooded path. In a moment, Aiolos was gone, leaving Galen with the crashing of the waves and a melancholy heart. Bowing his head in brief prayer for the Horse's safe journey, Galen turned back to rejoin his friends. Lyra momentarily laid a sympathetic hand on his arm as he mounted the Archen horse Reinald had brought with them, and Galen offered a small smile in thanks. In the deafening silence where the only sound was of tumultuous waves pounding the ancient rocks, the five horsemen turned south to Archenland.
"Lyra, I could use a little help!" Galen called out after a few frustrating moments trying to guide his new mount to follow the Archenlanders.
"What is it, my friend?" the Archen princess responded, turning back to the Narnian.
"I haven't the faintest idea how to drive this!" Galen looked back at her with exasperation in his blue eyes, and Lyra could not help but laugh.
Several hours later, just as the last golden light of sunset winked out beyond the Western mountains, the friends found themselves overlooking the city of Ramstowne once again. As promised, the king and the rest of the knights awaited them on the dune bluff, their green pennants waving in the night's fragrant wind.
"We all hope your friend has a safe journey," the king spoke, and Galen nodded his thanks.
The king turned his mount towards the east and lead the column down the sandy path and through the heart of Ramstowne. The quiet streets rang with the bright echo of hooves as they passed, and finally the wearied horses climbed the little hill to the Ramstowne Keep, a small stone castle that overlooked the sea and served as the area's military headquarters. There they found a warm welcome from Admiral Hunt, who oversaw the fleet, and the exhausted travelers quickly tumbled into their beds.
3 Greenroof 2076
The next morning, Galen awoke to the sound of ships' bells and seagulls. It was a pleasant sound, and the salty tang of the cool air invigorated the Narnian. He leaned out of his open window to look at the sea, and gazing out over the turquoise waves and frothy white clouds made his heart long for the East and adventure.
Just as the Narnian finished dressing, a soft knock sounded at his door.
"Good morning, Galen!" Lyra greeted as he opened the door.
"Good morn," Galen smiled in return.
"As soon as we have breakfast with Admiral Hunt, we will be leaving for the ship!" Lyra's eyes sparkled with excitement, the shadow the Calormenes had cast forgotten for the moment.
"Wonderful!" Galen exclaimed, stepping out into the grey stone corridor and shutting the door behind him. "I can hardly wait!"
The two hurried down the stairs to the small, but clean and gracious, dining room where King Lorn and Admiral Hunt, a stately looking man whose grey eyes showed the wisdom of many years' experience, sat with their morning tea.
"Good morning, father!" Lyra kissed her father's cheek as she made her way to the little buffet beside the window.
"Good morning, Lyra," the king smiled.
"Your highness," Admiral Hunt greeted, standing briefly as she entered.
"Admiral," the Archen princess returned pleasantly as she took her seat. "How looks the day?"
"As fair sailing weather as I have ever seen, my lady," he responded. "An old sailor could not hope for better winds for today's maneuvers," he smiled. "But, if I may beg your pardon, my lady, I do not believe I have made your companion's acquaintance."
"Of course, my lord! This is Sir Galen of Narnia, who will be sailing with me on the Jewel."
"I see," the Admiral replied. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord," he nodded, but his eyes had grown somewhat colder as he heard the name.
Galen, for his part, politely acknowledged the admiral and ignored all else, quietly eating his breakfast and leaving conversation to the princess. As he finished, though, their voices lulled. Finally, the admiral spoke again to the Narnian.
"Sir Galen, news travels fast in this land. Begging your majesty's pardon," he glanced at the king, "I cannot understand why you would destroy so sacred and powerful a thing as the Stone Knife," the admiral spoke fervently.
"I am grieved more than anyone at the Stone Knife's loss, my lord," Galen replied gravely. "But I deemed the price of keeping it far worse. I could not stand to see the people of Archenland leave Aslan for the love of a stone, however wondrous that stone was. It was my duty to do as I did, and I hope and pray that Archenland's people will turn now to Aslan and seek His pardon with me."
"Forgive me, Sir Galen," Admiral Hunt spoke sincerely, meeting the Narnian's gaze steadily. "You speak with a conviction I can respect and understand. May Aslan bless your travels."
"Thank you, my lord," Galen bowed as he left the room. Returning to his sleeping quarters, Galen retrieved his bag and made sure the Stone Knife was safe in his satchel. Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, he buckled on his sword-belt and took up his bow before descending the Keep's stairs to the courtyard where the horses were in assembled. Admiral Hunt and King Lorn stood at the front of the column, while Ayden and Lyra stood directly behind them and the knights followed. Galen joined them promptly and mounted his brown horse, having learned the basics of guiding it from Lyra the day before. At the bright note from Reinald's horn, the column began to move out through the streets of Ramstowne. As they made for the docks, a crowd of townspeople began to cheer for the king as he passed. Rumor of the Calormene threat had also reached their ears, and the sight of their king, smiling and confidant, with a company of proud Archen knights reinvigorated their hearts. Though they, too, had heard of the Stone Knife's destruction with dismay, they did not recognize Galen since he had shed his grandfather's tabard in favor of a plain leather jerkin.
Finally, they reached the docks and Galen could see the tall masts of many ships towering above them.
"Captain Torin! How fare you and your crew!" Lyra exclaimed as she dismounted at the dock and greeted the Jewel of Archenland's captain.
"We fare well. A better ship you'll never find, your highness. We are ready to make sail at your convenience," the captain answered, his clear blue eyes reflecting a quiet anticipation at the journey to come.
"Then we sail as soon as possible, good captain!" Lyra answered
Quicker than Galen could have imagined, he found himself engulfed in the fray of preparations to set sail. Several sailors helped the servants load the luggage, what little there was, onto the ship, while others were hurrying to and fro to load last-minute provisions. The Jewel was as beautiful as ever, her three masts towering above the dock and her sails neatly furled to the yards. King Lorn and Ayden accompanied them both aboard the ship, doing their best to stay out of the way of the sailors as they readied the ship to sail. Lyra spent the last moments she could with her family. Finally, however, Captain Torin reported the ship ready to sail. At the king's nod, the captain gave the command to set sail. As the sailors climbed aloft to free the sails from their gaskets, the princess and her family exchanged their farewells.*
"I love you, father," Lyra embraced King Lorn tightly.
"Take care, my dear Lyra," King Lorn returned her embrace.
As the princess and king exchanged farewells, Ayden turned to the Narnian.
"It has been my honor to call you my friend, Galen. I dearly hope we shall meet again," the Archen prince spoke, extending his hand.
"As it has been mine as well, Ayden," the Narnian took Ayden's offered hand in a firm handshake. "Thank you for everything."
"You are welcome, my friend," he replied. "But if I may ask one thing of your gratitude?"
"Anything," Galen answered, meeting the prince's gaze.
"Look after my sister. I like it not that I shall not be there to guard her back," Ayden's voice hardened imperceptibly with unspoken worry.
"You have my word of honor that I will protect her," Galen replied solemnly.
"Then it is you who have my thanks, Sir Galen," Ayden gripped his hand once more. "Aslan bless your journey."
The Archen prince turned now to his sister, who embraced him tightly.
"I shall miss you so, dear brother," Lyra spoke, her voice wavering.
"Almost as much as I shall miss you, little sister," Ayden's voice could not keep itself firm either. "You shall always have my love and my prayers. Aslan be with you always."
"May He be also with you, Ayden. This shall not be the last time we speak, I promise thee, brother."
"I shall hold thee to that, sister," Ayden responded, and the Archen princess smiled in return.
Finally, with many a "fare thee well," the king and prince disembarked from the Jewel of Archenland. Admiral Hunt waited for them aboard the ship he commanded, which they promptly boarded. Admiral Hunt's ship was a good deal larger than the Jewel, a grandly painted vessel whose thick masts towered above seemingly unending rows of bow-ports.** As soon as the king was on board, Admiral Hunt gave the order to set sail. In anticipation, his men had already freed the sails and now had but to pull the lines. As the white sails caught the wind, the huge ship slipped its moorings and glided into the bay's blue waters.
As soon as the king's ship had made sail, Captain Torin gave the order to proceed, and the sailors pulled the sails taut. A fine southwesterly breeze blew from the mountains, and it caught the sails quickly. A turquoise wave ran up under the Jewel's prow, and she made for the open sea.
Galen and Lyra stood at the bow, just behind the bowsprit, and looked ahead.
"What ship is that ahead of us, the one the king is aboard?" Galen inquired.
"Ah, that is the flagship Thunderfist.*** She is named for Prince Corin Thunderfist, who lived at the time of Narnia's Golden Age, and seldom has the Archen fleet been without one of her line," Lyra replied, her eyes shining.
A first-rate ship of the line,**** the flagship Thunderfist was an intimidating, yet beautiful, warship, a predator of unmatched power and grace, and beneath the bowsprit snarled the figurehead of a great black bear. Half-way out into the bay, Admiral Hunt gave the command to heave-to, maintaining the ship's position in order to provide the Jewel of Archenland and its princess a proper farewell. The king and Ayden waved furiously from the deck, which Lyra happily returned.
"Look, Galen! The other ships are sending us off as well!" The Archen princess exclaimed. "There is the Thunderfist's sister, the Lion's Teeth," Lyra pointed to another massive vessel a little ways to the south of them. "And the Queen Aravis!" Here she pointed to a lovely smaller ship, a lady of the sea as her sailors might have called her. Bright purple flags waved from the mast-tops and stern, and her gilded prow pushed cheerfully through the blue waves.
"And these?" Galen asked curiously, pointing to a fleet of three ships off the port bow.
"Oh, that is the Fleet of Mountains, under Commodore Decker. The foremost is the Stormness, while the Pire and the Argyros follow her. And a little ways behind them, nearer the Queen Aravis, is the Fair Olvin, followed by the Lady Liln."
Galen watched in wonder as the Archen fleet, all flags flying proudly, bade farewell to the Jewel of Archenland and their well-beloved princess. The Thunderfist launched a flare into the air just before the Jewel passed, and it exploded into a brilliant cascade of purple light before fading away. Lyra ran back to the poop deck as they passed, and continued to wave to her father and brother until the Archen fleet and the green Archen coast faded from sight. While she remained at the stern, staring wistfully back towards Archenland, her Narnian companion returned to the bow and leaned into the salty wind as it blew across his face.
"At last, to sea!" he thought with exhilaration, and as the sun turned to sink into the west and he felt the ship rise and fall beneath his feet, the Narnian thought that he had never felt more alive. "For Aslan and the East!"
Author's notes:
* In anticipation of the last leg of the story, I have been trying to research the methods of 18th century naval warfare in order to try to provide at least a somewhat accurate description of the sailing. I take my information from Sam Willis' Fighting at Sea in the Eighteenth Century. Here, it would take approximately thirty minutes for the Jewel of Archenland to set full sail from its position with fully furled sails. For future reference, heaving-to is the practice of turning the mainmast sails at opposite angles to the sails of the foremast, thus maintaining its position temporarily without sacrificing maneuverability.
**bow-ports are the Archen/Narnian equivalent of a gun port. Since none of the books ever referred to the development of the cannon, I decided to replace the cannon of the 18th century warship with a kind of heavy crossbow that would serve much the same function. A more detailed description will follow in the next chapter as we and our good travelers explore the Jewel.
***See The Horse and His Boy; the Queen Aravis, the Fair Olvin, and the Lady Liln are also named for characters referenced in this book. Also, the names of the mountains Stormness and Pire are from the Horse and His Boy as well. I took my pen name from Mount Stormness; I am not inserting a reference to my name into the story for its own sake.
**** First-rate ship of the line referred, in the old British naval classification, to the largest warships carrying 100 or more guns (here, bows).