A/N: Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews on the previous chapter! I was actually deliberating for quite a while over whether or not to post this story at all since it's pretty unorthodox for Narnia, but your support has been absolutely amazing! I visited my mom the same day I posted Chapter One and read her all the reviews because they absolutely made my week, so thank you all very VERY much!
Also I forgot to mention last time that there is a trailer for this fic up on youtube (on the channel Tricia Pevensie), and I've also been posting some bonus Ruination content on my insta (tricia_pevensie) if anyone who isn't already following me there wants to check it out!
xXx
CHAPTER TWO: DEMONS
Lucy's stomach ached as the red glow of sunset cast her shadow starkly out ahead of her, and Cair Paravel's open gates came into view.
Sweat flecked her horse's sides and soaked the back of her dress, flyaway curls clinging to her forehead, muscles numb and buzzing, lungs raw with the chilly evening air as her horse blew clouds with every great puff of its flaring nostrils.
Peter's golden stallion streaked out in front of her, Edmund's roan a few yards away to her right, and the rest somewhere behind, riding as hard as their horses could carry them over the darkening, rolling landscape. Never once did they stop for a rest, and Lucy ignored the dull jolt of pain through her core with every jarring footfall.
No matter how badly she wanted to stop and breathe, that bear's bloodthirsty snarl flashed back to the front of her mind, and her heart pounded all the harder.
At last the gates rose up to greet them, and a moment later they all passed into the honey-gold stone of the upper courtyard.
"Close the gates!" shouted Peter as he pulled up, and the whole party slowed around him, circling to a sharp halt in the middle of the courtyard.
A clank of metal banged through the air, and then a heavy groan as the massive carved gates swung heavily closed, settling with a boom as the guards turned to the six of them.
Lucy slumped forward on her horse, finally settling into the saddle and letting her thighs and core relax. She glanced around at the others, all worn out, Susan pushing dark windswept curls out of her flushed face, Edmund leaning down to rub his horse's neck, Corin jumping off the moment he was allowed as creatures rushed up all around them.
"Your majesties!" barked a huge bulldog, "You're alright!"
"We were so worried," said a dryad as she hurried to take Lucy's reins and helped her painstakingly dismount.
Lucy dropped to the ground, steadied herself, and then looked at the girl, moss trailing through her hair, eyes deeper wells of green than you would ever see in a human. "What do you mean? How did you know?"
"The creatures have been coming in all day," she said in her rushed yet willowy voice, "Some only hours after your majesties left. They've brought the most horrible tales, and the spirits of my brethren in Dancing Lawn came bearing the same news not twenty minutes ago."
Lucy glanced around to find the courtyard filled with all manner of creatures, not just regular palace folk, but flocks of birds perched on low gables, a family of badgers from the shuddering wood, centaurs and fauns and tree women, all further than a day's travel from their homes.
"We came to warn you," barked a smaller dog with floppy ears as Peter dismounted. "But you were already gone, and we all feared the worst. Narnia is overrun, your majesties, overrun! Run! Run!" The last run was accentuated by a sharp bark, the doggish exclamation eclipsing his speech.
"What have you seen?" asked Edmund, dropping to one knee as all manner of small creatures flooded in around him, moles and rabbits and a distinguished river rat with a very gloomy countenance.
"Your forests, strewn with bodies," said the rat, "The living in hiding, the dead walking."
"The dead?" asked Corin.
"Well they're certainly not alive," said a hare with very long ears, his snuffly nose twitching as he spoke. "Leastways in any way that matters."
"Dead eyes, they have," said a raven that swooped in to perch on Corin's shoulder, "And death mouths, too."
There was a chorus of noisy agreement from the dogs, mixed heavily with growls.
"How did this happen?" asked Peter, running a hand through his hair, "What are they? What is it?"
"Does anyone know where this… this death came from?" asked Edmund.
"It came to us in the shuddering wood," whimpered one of the moles. "It was the bears, first. We heard them fighting, such vicious noises, all that roaring and crashing. But it was worse when the noises stopped. Dead silence, it was. And then it came lumbering through the forest, dripping and gurgling, and we all hid for our lives. I only got a glimpse of what happened to the others, when the centaurs came to find us. Eaten, they were, every last one of them!"
Lucy's stomach flipped over, hot tears rushing to the backs of her eyes.
Peter turned to the centaurs, who were standing solemnly off to the side of the crowd, huge and noble with expressions that would break your heart. "And you?"
"Word came from the west, your majesty," said Oreius, the chief among them and a good friend of the monarchs, "From the birds of Lantern Waste. They told of a madness spreading through the wood, but they could not give it a name, and few escaped to warn of its coming. We came to the city as soon as we could."
Peter nodded, his expression tight. "Thank you."
Thinly veiled rage roiled just beneath the surface, in the trembling of his hand, in the trained stiffness of his shoulders. Peter never could hide his emotions completely.
Edmund's were more like a dark sea lapping beneath his shielded exterior. Deep and dangerous but docile on the surface, giving the illusion of calm.
"Dancing Lawn is overtaken," said Peter after a long pause. "We arrived too late to fight. I don't know how many escaped."
A cry went up among the fauns, wails of utter despair and grief, and Lucy felt herself going numb, the reality of it all creeping over her with the awareness that this was not just a bad dream.
The next thing she noticed was Peridan's arm around her shoulders, strong and steady.
"Are you alright, my lady?" he murmured as the hubbub of voices rose around them.
"Y-yes," she said, and realized for the first time that she was shaking. She looked up into Peridan's face, his fiery hair bringing out the tinge of pink in his cheeks and the dried blood on his tunic, but in her mind he was still ghostly pale, veins snaking up from his throat like purple ropes. She blinked, reality snapping back into place as quickly as it had gone. But in the knight's eyes she saw it still, a haunted look, a knowing. "How are you feeling?"
Peridan put on a smile. "Right as rain, after your help."
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
A sudden noise from the animals distracted both of them from this, however; howls and whines went up throughout the assembled crowd.
"We must help!" cried one. Lucy couldn't see who it was, but it sounded like a fox or a dog. "We must go out and find our friends!"
"It's not safe," said a bird voice, "It'll be no use going out now, least of all at nightfall."
The argument went on for a few moments before Peter's clear authoritative tone cut through the chaos. "I forbid any creature from leaving this city, no matter how noble his purpose be. It is too dangerous now even for a trained knight to venture into the forest."
It was what Lucy had always called his High King Voice, and although a variety of mournful noises spread throughout the crowd of creatures, none tried to disagree.
"Guards," he commanded next, "Open the gates only to those you can be sure are sane. Be wary of the wounded, but do not turn any away unless their minds are overtaken. I will not turn any living Narnian away from this city until I have no other choice."
The palace guards nodded and returned at once to their posts.
"The rest of you," he said, his voice softening, "Make our guests welcome and comfortable. They have suffered enough today."
In a moment the creatures were all shuffling to obey, leading refugees through the courtyard into the rest of the city, and at last Susan let the squirrels down out of her arms and into the care of the other small, snuffly creatures.
Lucy hugged her own waist as the shadow of dusk stretched over the stone, dread settling inside the walls like a cloud, heavy and cold and blind.
Then Peter picked certain creatures out of the crowd: a dryad, Oreius, the raven, the river rat; and along with the rest of their party, he led them into the city after the rest of the Narnians.
Lucy followed a few paces behind, falling to the back of the group where Susan also trailed, and took her sister's hand. She hadn't noticed exactly when Susan started crying, but her porcelain cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling in the flicker of the lamps that lit the palace walls like pathways of stars.
Corin fell back to Susan's other side, and glanced at her face. "Don't worry, it's safe here."
"It's not here I'm worried about," she murmured.
The grand bridges and towers of the Cair felt like another world from the one they'd just escaped, safe and warm with little golden lights in the windows and trees tangled around archways, carpeting the stone with crimson leaves.
To Lucy it was only the illusion of safety. She knew the rest of Narnia was in danger tonight.
"I wish we could do something," she said, mostly to Corin. "I've half a mind to run out and carry as many creatures as I can hold back to the gates."
"I have, too," he said. "And I'd do anything to get another blow in on one of those monsters. They shan't so easily best me again."
"Oh, Corin," scolded Susan.
But her lecture was cut short as their party turned into a warmly lit hall, a long oak table and comfortable chairs of all shapes and sizes running the length of it.
A fire was already crackling in the hearth, and Peter dropped into a chair at the head of the table and rubbed his temples, all the life seeming to have gone out of him.
Lucy slid into a cushiony seat and helped the river rat up onto the table as the raven perched behind her and Oreius stood at the door, his tall head towering over the archway.
"Su, if this is too much for you-" began Peter, but Susan shook her head.
"No, Peter, I'll stay." Her voice quivered only slightly. "What else can I do?"
He looked at her, then looked at the floor, and pulled himself together with a deep breath. "Alright, then. Can anyone tell us what this thing is? Magic, or illness, or something?"
"If it's magic, sire," said Oreius, "It's like no magic I've ever seen before. It behaves like an illness of the body, but its effects are of the mind."
"I would say it were some ghoulish haunting," said the dryad, "But no spirit could spread through so many at once. At least none in my days, or in my mother's days."
"Hang on," said Edmund, looking back up at Oreius. "You said it behaves like an illness."
"Yes, but there is no such illness."
Edmund bit his lip, thinking out loud, "It's like some kind of… magical infection. Like a plague."
"A plague, sire?" asked the rat.
Edmund nodded. "You know, a deadly, fast-spreading disease. I learned about them in— well, in another world, I suppose. A plague could wipe out half the population if it was deadly enough."
"I've never heard of anything like that in Narnia, though," said Lucy.
"No…" Edmund shook his head, as if coming to the realization himself just as he was saying it, "Of course not. Even if there were such an illness, it would remain only among one species. How often do a human and a squirrel catch the same disease?"
"I suppose the better question is," said Peter, "Why is it happening now?"
"Because it's not natural," said Susan, "None of it is natural."
"Maybe it's something like going rabid," suggested Corin. "I've seen it in dumb beasts at home, it could be similar to—"
"No."
Everyone turned to look at Peridan, Corin's mouth still paused mid-word.
"No… what?" asked Lucy.
Peridan's eyes bored into the table. "It's not like that. It's not like going rabid. It's like… falling. Drowning. Losing yourself, until life is nothing but a dream. Until there's nothing left but hunger."
There was a long pause in which everyone could only stare at him, but he didn't look up.
"What kind of hunger?" asked Edmund at last, his steady voice cutting through the silence.
"Blood. Power. Everything. It wants everything."
"I don't know," said Corin, this time a little hesitant. "That kind of sounds like going rabid to me."
Peridan shook his head. "It wasn't like an animal. It was… a will. It knew what it wanted. I would say it was like a ghoul, only that doesn't seem possible. It was like… death itself."
The silence that hung over the room now was even more palpable than the first, and the deep, haunted look in Peridan's eyes sent a shiver down Lucy's spine.
"Alright," said Peter, "Well, this… death… it has to be coming from somewhere. If it was in Lantern Waste yesterday then it's spreading from the west."
"Are you saying we should track it down?" asked Corin.
"Not you," said Edmund, apparently already on the same page as Peter. "You're staying here."
"What about you?" asked Corin indignantly.
It was Peter who answered. "Edmund and I will ride west, try to find a point of origin. We can't do anything from here but watch the country fall around us, and how long until this infection breaches the Cair itself?"
"No," said Susan abruptly. "Didn't we just ride for our lives out of the west? How can you just turn around and go back? Narnia needs you alive!"
"There may not be a Narnia in a few weeks' time," said Edmund. "We have to do something."
"Well, my cordial can cure it," said Lucy, pulling the vial off of her belt. "There must be some way to—"
But the look on Edmund's face told her it was no use. "How long will that last? You don't have an infinite supply. Even if you could cure a hundred of them, where does that leave the rest? Or even the cured, if they're infected again?"
"We can't use the cordial," said Peter before she could object. "It's like any other war, Lu. You can't save everyone."
A burst of frustration exploded in her chest, but she knew Peter hated saying it even more than she hated hearing it. And no matter how badly she wanted to retort, she knew he was right. "At least take it with you. It's too dangerous out there."
But Peter shook his head. "Keep it here. Use it only as a last resort to save the city, should any infection creep past the walls. The Cair is our people's only defense."
Lucy wanted to stamp her foot. "Then take me!"
"What?" asked Edmund.
"I'm going with you."
"No you're not."
She turned to Peter. "You won't let me help any other way. I have to do something, Peter, please!"
He bit the inside of his lip, and it was hesitation enough for Lucy to make her case.
"There's nothing for me to do here. Susan can rule just as well without me, especially with Corin staying behind, too. Our people will be well taken care of, and I'll be a better use to you! I'm quiet, I can shoot." Her stomach churned even as she said it, but she didn't back down. "You'll need a good archer if you expect to last a day out there."
Edmund looked at Peter.
Both boys were silent, and she knew she'd made a good point.
"Alright," said Peter at last.
"Peter!" cried Susan, "You can't allow her, it's madness enough with you two going!"
"We'll be safer with an archer, she's right," he admitted.
"What about me?" asked Peridan.
"No, Per, you've had enough of an adventure already. I want you here, with Susan."
The knight didn't argue, but his face flushed slightly and he glanced at Lucy with a look of mixed relief and regret.
"Alright then," said Edmund, "That's settled. The three of us ride at dawn. The rest of you, keep the city safe. And, Corin?"
The boy's eyes flicked up to meet Edmund's.
"Write to your father. Tell him to close Anvard's gates. I doubt this will remain only in Narnia."
The sudden realization struck Corin's face, and he bolted up and ran out the door without even waiting to be dismissed.
"What do you hope to find in the west, my lord?" asked Oreius after a moment.
Peter drew a deep breath. "A cure, perhaps. But even if it's not possible, we should know where it came from. What it is. Even if we can't cure it, maybe… maybe we'll find a way to ride it out."
Lucy didn't miss the uncertainty in his tone.
It was well over an hour later when Peter finally dismissed them after a lengthy discussion of experience and strategy with the animals and the dryad and Oreius. Lucy regretted not leaving the first time he'd offered to let her and Susan go to bed, insisting she needed to hear it all, but internally she struggled to stay focused after that and ended up missing most of the important details anyway.
Even then, Peter kept Edmund and Oreius in his council while the rest filtered out.
The noise had died down in the Cair, the cool night scattered with only a few voices, wafting up or down from terraces and courtyards as she made her way up through the city's levels into her own wing of the palace, to her own door, and into her own bedroom, flickering orange in the firelight, warm and cozy as always.
She stripped off her riding clothes, washed the sweat from her face and arms at the basin beside her bed, and pulled on a soft nightgown.
But Lucy still felt cold.
The silence of the night crept in, along with images of death replaying in her mind, quelling any sense of triumph she had felt at convincing Peter to let her go with them. Her chambers felt too big now, too dark, too empty. Hollow, like hollow eyes.
She crawled into bed and burrowed down under the covers as the thick, heavy dread flooded in around her, determined to convince herself it was all just a bad dream, determined that in the morning she would wake to music and laughter, and no one would remember the dead eyes, or the Narnians lying lifeless in their own woods.
But no matter how she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to put it all out of her head, she only saw that bear's poor, innocent, stupid face, gaping-mouthed in the leaves. She still saw the fear in Peridan's eyes as the blue returned to them.
At last she sat up and kicked off the covers, bare feet patting across the cool stone floor and out into the hall.
In a few moments she was at Susan's door, knocking softly on the dark wood.
At first there was no response, and she wondered if her sister was asleep. She knocked again, waited, and had almost turned back when the door opened and Susan stood there in her silk nightgown, eyes glistening.
The two girls looked at each other for a moment before Susan took Lucy into her arms.
"Oh, Lucy…" she murmured, engulfing her in white silk and a faint lilac scent. She pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them.
Snuggled beneath Susan's covers with her head tucked into the crook of her sister's neck, she felt safer, just as if she were a child again, running from a nightmare; firelight flickering on marble walls, a heartbeat beneath her ear, though this one was just a bit quicker than it ought to have been.
"It'll be okay," she said, trying to convince herself as much as Susan. "We'll figure it out."
Susan's fingers laced through her auburn curls, combing them over her shoulder. "You don't have to go, you know." There was no conviction in her tone. Susan knew better than to think she could talk Lucy out of anything. But it was as if she needed to say the words anyway, just so that they would exist.
"And send the boys out alone? Su, you know that's a recipe for disaster."
She thought she felt Susan smile into her hair. But then there was a long silence, and Susan's voice was very quiet when she next spoke. "Everything is so different from before. It was always so clear, we always had an enemy to fight. But this… our own people…"
Lucy nodded into her neck. "And to think we were so happy this morning…" A lump formed in her throat. "When all those poor beasts…"
"Let's not think about that," said Susan with a shaky breath. "Let's just think about now."
"I wish I didn't have to think at all. Everything is so horrible. But we'll find something, I promise. A cure, something."
Of course, she couldn't promise, but Susan only nodded. "I know."
"And Aslan will help us. He's never abandoned us before."
Susan didn't say anything.
Neither of them asked the question "But why would Aslan let this happen?" They already knew the great Lion had his limits, even if they didn't understand them. Aslan was good, but that didn't mean evil never had the upper hand. After all, the Witch had reigned for a hundred years. Lucy only hoped this plague wouldn't last that long.
"You're right, Lucy," mumbled Susan, "Aslan will help us."
And although her mind still wandered in dark places, the thought of Aslan calmed Lucy's churning heart at last. She found herself drifting off, Susan's fingers still running through her hair, lulling her into a shallow sleep, and the next thing she knew was Edmund's hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently awake as pale early morning light shone through the windows.
She blinked, squinting hazily up at him.
"We ride out in an hour," he said, quiet enough not to wake Susan.
Lucy rubbed her face and sat up, the weight of sleeplessness still dragging her down, head fuzzy and eyelids heavy, but she slid out of bed against every bit of her will and followed Edmund out into the hall.
"You sure you're up for this?"
"Of course," she mumbled, voice still low and raspy, and Edmund actually smiled a little.
"Get ready, then. I'll meet you in the kitchens."
"Mkay."
"And don't fall asleep again."
"I won't!" she huffed, but the moment she ducked into her own room she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and fall back into blissful nothingness.
Instead she splashed her face with cold water from the basin and pulled on a fresh set of riding clothes, mustering enough mental strength to choose sturdy leather boots and vambraces, and a leather tunic on top of her thick cotton. She wouldn't be able to bear the weight of armor for days at a time, but she still wanted to pad herself for… whatever might happen.
Her hand subconsciously reached for her cordial, but then she remembered what they'd agreed upon, and reluctantly left it alone in its place on her vanity, stomach sinking even as she did so.
The air of the palace was stiff when she came back out half an hour later and made her way down to the kitchens. The city was holding its breath, as if awaiting a plunge.
She found Peter and Edmund already eating in the kitchens, with their packed bags on the long, low, rough-hewn table, and when she saw their eyes she wondered if they'd slept at all.
Peter gave her a smile, and she took the seat beside him, realizing the instant she saw food that she was starving.
They'd had dinner brought into the meeting hall last night, but Lucy had been too tired to eat much, and now she dug in greedily to the rolls and marmalade and slabs of ham laid out in front of her.
That was enough to wake her up the rest of the way.
"We ride west, keeping to the north side of the Great River," said Peter, "We're less likely to encounter anything up there where the woods are sparse, until the crossing above the lake. I don't think we'll have much trouble until we approach the lower mountains."
Lucy nodded as a dryad girl came in with a third pack. "This should be food enough for three days. Unfortunately we couldn't fit any more in the travel bags without weighing you down."
"Thank you," said Lucy. "I'm sure it will be just fine."
The three of them focused on eating for several minutes, and Lucy couldn't help but wonder when she would next taste warm food in these kitchens.
"The earlier we set out the better," said Edmund at last, and stood from his place to sling his pack over his shoulder.
Peter nodded and stood too, and Lucy took her last warm roll to carry with her and followed the boys out through the scullery door to the courtyard and across to the stables, sunrise having yet to pierce the mist that curled around the stone walls.
Three horses were already saddled and waiting for them (not talking horses, of course), and Lucy's insides tightened.
"What about Susan?" she asked.
Peter nodded toward the palace gates, and Lucy looked to see Corin and Susan hurrying out to them from the main hall, Susan still clutching a dressing robe around her shoulders.
She threw her arms around Peter the moment she reached them, and then Edmund, and then Lucy. "Be safe," she said as she pulled away and squeezed Lucy's arms.
Lucy smiled. "You too."
Peter clapped Corin on the shoulder. "Take care of her, will you?"
"To my last breath."
"And try not to burn the palace down while you're at it," said Edmund.
Corin shot him a dry smile.
Lucy pulled Corin into a hug, too, before mounting her horse and hanging her pack from the saddle.
The boys mounted up beside her, and then all five of them looked at each other, a hundred unspoken promises hanging between them before Peter urged his horse forward, and Lucy and Edmund followed him to the upper courtyard.
The guards saluted them, and the gate swung open.
Narnia lay beyond under a misty sunrise, as if nothing were amiss, but Lucy's heartbeat quickened ever so slightly as they rode onto the paved road, and she glanced over her shoulder one last time to watch Susan and Corin shrink into the distance, until the gate swung grindingly shut with a resounding boom, and they left the city behind.
xXx
A/N: And that's it for Chapter Two, folks! I know it was a bit slow compared with the first, but I can promise things will be picking up very soon. Thank you so much for reading this far! Please do leave your thoughts in a review if you so desire, and I'll see you in the next one!
