CHAPTER THREE: PARADISE
Pale dawn crept into the edges of Tirian's vision like clawed metal bleeding rust into stone, piercing hazy retinas as the thunder of hoof-beats stabbed through his skull and every jarring footfall dragged his bones down, aching to fall, to end, but somewhere in the back of his burning mind he knew he couldn't.
He had to hold on, white mane in his fists, black fur at his thighs, the warmth of blood under his tunic long since having gone cold in the sharp wind, still stinging, polluted lightning through his core.
Dew-drenched grass lashed at his ankles, the world a grey blur, swimming, lurching, falling.
And at last the singular thought that he had to hold on slipped out of reach just as Jewel's hooves clopped over stone instead of earth and a commotion went up around them, the noise drifting as if from miles away.
Air claimed him, and then the strength of familiar arms as the earth tilted and his head fell back against someone's shoulder, lowering slowly, surrounded by a rush of voices he vaguely knew.
Someone was shouting. He thought it might have been his father, though he could no longer remember why that mattered.
His eyelids fluttered just enough to make out a familiar grey beard and blue eyes, vision swimming in the light, mind swirling, drifting, lost.
The voice was right over him now. He'd never heard it like this before, panicked, terrified. "What did you think you were doing?"
Tirian wanted to say something, he should have said something, but the moment he tried to breathe he only coughed, white hot pain stabbing his midsection like lightning cracking his ribs, a pathetic squeak escaping his throat. His vision flickered black, numbness flooding the base of his skull as the world blurred grey again.
The arms around him tightened and the voices hurried in their murmuring. He thought he heard Jewel, even Cinder, though he couldn't tell what they were saying, and then his father's voice bellowed again, as if from a long way away, under water.
A moment or an eternity later a shadow crossed him and the patter of light feet skidded to a halt as a girl's voice gasped "Here, your Majesty."
The arms around Tirian shifted and he dropped a little, voice cracking in a small moan.
Then something cool washed through his middle, the oppressive pain subsiding, washing away, evaporating, as if leached from him.
Breath rushed into his lungs and he gasped, coughed, the effort still sparking pain but not enough to shatter him. He took another deep, free breath and his eyes fluttered open to a small crystal bottle as it was handed back up to someone. He thought vaguely that he recognized it from somewhere. And then his eyes wandered to his father's face, tears glinting in the King's eyes as he sighed and nearly collapsed into Tirian's chest.
A rather stupid and lazy grin tugged at the corner of Tirian's mouth. "I told you giants couldn't be reasoned with," he murmured, voice raw and cracked, and before he knew what was happening his father had pulled him into a tight hug and Tirian yelped, half laughing, half wincing in the warm and crushing embrace.
"Easy," he gasped, "I'm bruised all over."
The hug tightened for a second before Erlian drew him back to arm's length and gripped his shoulders with exasperated laughter in his face. "You deserve those for your rashness, you foolish boy." He ruffled Tirian's hair, and Tirian swatted him playfully away, still half-sitting in his lap just inside the gate of the northern courtyard, the first warm rays of dawn piercing the morning chill and splashing over the stone.
He also became suddenly aware of the crowd of horses and knights around them, and realized with a flood of memory that his father was meant to take a party out to meet the giants this morning. They must have been just about to set out just when Tirian showed up.
"I won, though," he said, coughing again to clear his throat as he glanced over to Jewel in the archway, dried blood streaked down his crystal horn, Cinder perched on his shoulder. "We won."
Erlian just shook his head.
"One of the brutes did get away," said Cinder, sounding simultaneously irritated at the loss and pleased to poke a hole in Tirian's perfect story.
"Badly wounded," Tirian cut in quickly, and looked back at his father. "They weren't here for a peace treaty, Father, they were—" For a moment he stumbled over the words, images of desecrated dens flashing back into his mind, a clearing littered with almost unrecognizable bodies, butterscotch rabbits in a cage. "They were hurting Narnians, killing them!"
Erlian's eyes flashed indiscernibly. "You shouldn't have been out there, you could have been killed. And so could your friends."
"But we weren't."
"Yes," said Erlian, "and aren't you lucky young Malahki is quick on her feet."
That was when Tirian glanced up to find Mal standing just behind him, diamond bottle in hand, dark hair uncharacteristically disheveled, flyaways curling around the braids at her temples. But his eyes never moved past the bottle.
"That's…" he breathed, glancing down at his stomach where now not even a trace of pain remained, despite the appearance of his blood-soaked tunic. He looked at his father with wide eyes. "That's Queen Lucy's cordial."
"So it is," said Erlian, "What precious little is left of it, and you have now forced me to use one of its priceless drops on your very stupid and thoughtless person."
Tirian looked back at the diamond bottle, ruby-red contents a mere splash in the bottom, golden lion's head stopper glowing in the warm morning sunlight.
"Sorry," he mumbled, but he was barely thinking about it.
Erlian shook his head and sighed. "Off of me, then. I fear I must now see to whatever damage you have caused."
Tirian scrambled up and Erlian got to his feet, looking to Jewel and Cinder just as someone else crashed into him from behind and nearly knocked him over, two hands clapping down on his shoulders, and he whirled to face Hosha.
"You almost died!" gasped the boy, glancing over Tirian's body with wide brown eyes before staring back up into his face, breathless. "That's awesome."
Tirian cracked a wide grin before he could stop himself.
"It is not awesome," snapped Mal, handing the cordial to a dryad girl who hurriedly took it away in the direction of the castle where Tirian knew it was kept in the healing chambers. She cast a scrupulous glance over Tirian's body and clenched her jaw.
Erlian leaned into the boys. "She's a wise girl, you would do well to listen to her."
Hosha sobered instantly and nodded, but the moment the king moved away he shot a small smile at Tirian.
"Get the healers to look at you," ordered Erlian. "All of you." He glanced again at Cinder and Jewel, and for the first time Tirian noticed his own blood staining Jewel's coat, as well as a web of lashes criss-crossing his creamy white legs which had already scabbed over.
Cinder looked prim and proper as ever, grooming stray tufts of fur.
"Get my sword back for me, will you?" Tirian asked before his father could turn away.
Erlian shot him a look. "Where is it?"
He stifled a grin, almost sheepishly. "Um, in the giant's throat?"
Hosha's eyes snapped up to him again, and Erlian pursed his lips in the way that told Tirian he was trying not to smile. He held his hand out, and Tirian quickly unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to him.
Erlian buckled it right under his own and mounted his horse, a huge grey charger. "Healer. Now."
Tirian couldn't help but think his sternness sounded suspiciously like pride.
Then the king turned toward the gate, and Gareth followed close behind, giving a wave to his own children and an extra smirk to Tirian that all but confirmed his suspicions.
"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," called Erlian.
"How would I manage that?"
"I don't know, but you always find a way." Erlian glanced over his shoulder and then motioned the party forward, riding out through the North Gate into the misty fields, the dew of which still clung to the hem of Tirian's trousers.
A minute later, their little group was alone in the courtyard, save for the guards at the gate and a few city folk who'd come to see what all the commotion was about.
Hosha was still staring at him.
"You killed a giant?"
"So did they." Tirian motioned to Cinder and Jewel, and the Cat looked about to correct him again before he added "Alright, as good as killed it. But the point is, we won."
"You're telling me everything," demanded Hosha, "Right now. We can get healers at the house. Oh, I can't believe you fought giants without me!"
"I would have brought you along if I could," laughed Tirian, "But I do think Gareth would have had something to say about that."
"Sneak me out next time."
"He will do nothing of the sort," cut in Mal, and steered them by the arms across the northern courtyard, past the great hall and into the more complicated mass of buildings that made up the city.
More than a few heads turned at the sight of the prince in such a state, but Mal's pace was so brisk that none had the time to ask questions, and now that he was walking, the ache of deep bruises up and down Tirian's body only became harder to ignore.
His head buzzed with a fuzziness that he could only attribute to blood loss—or perhaps the multiple times he'd smacked it into the ground in the past few hours, but he was leaning more toward the former.
He rested a hand on Jewel's shoulder to steady himself, and Cinder leapt from his perch to land on Hosha's shoulder instead.
"Hey," barked the boy, "Don't you have legs? Walk on your own."
"This is easier."
Hosha shot Tirian a look. "You just had to bring him back to the Cair, huh? I thought he finally went to live in his natural habitat."
Tirian smirked. "Can't you see how much he missed you?"
Hosha snorted. "Freeloader."
Cinder just settled down and draped himself around Hosha's neck, round green eyes glinting at Tirian.
A few minutes later they arrived at the arching entryway to the House—Mal and Hosha's family home—all staircases and archways in pale golden stone, flowers in the window gardens and climbing up pillars all along the front landing.
It was just off the palace itself at the center of the royal city, and was one of the oldest and largest houses at the Cair since its rebuilding under King Caspian, a fact about which Gareth never hesitated to boast.
Mal led the way through the low entryway into a high open living area, so large that even Jewel didn't make it feel crowded. It contained a large hearth disused in the summertime, a long table to one side, and several intricately carved benches stuffed with cushions on the other, surrounding a thick furry rug. It was also scattered with nooks of all kinds, staircases to upper floors, a towering hallway into a library and a huge stone kitchen through the open door on other side of the table, and the walls were hung with colorful tapestries wherever they were not cut with deep windows that stretched all the way up to the ceiling.
"Mother!" cried Hosha the moment they stepped inside, and Lady Shadoht looked up from the silk she was mending and stood at once, tossing the bundle onto the cushion behind her.
"Oh, Lion! What on earth have you been doing that you return in this state?" Her faint Calormene accent only sharpened the worry in her tone as she hurried over to them, wide skirts swishing, black hair pulled back like Mal's, rich brown skin just the slightest shade darker than her daughter's. "You know you worried your father sick! And all of us, too."
She took him by the arms and scanned him from head to toe.
"I'm sorry," smiled Tirian, and Hosha cut in.
"They used the cordial on him."
Shadoht raised delicate eyebrows, dark eyes snapped from her son back to Tirian. "You needed the cordial?"
"I'm fine now," he said quickly, elbowing Hosha in the ribs as the Lady eyed him disbelievingly.
"Yes, I can see that." She lifted the hem of his tunic and then pushed his hair back, brushing a scratch he had not yet noticed, hair tugging on dried blood as he winced. "Malahki, send for the healers."
Mal disappeared through one of the many doorways, and Shadoht motioned them into the room, wasting no time in scolding Tirian and Jewel for their stunt, though all the while listening diligently to Tirian's earnest excuses until Mal came back a few minutes later.
"They'll be here soon," she reported, and her mother nodded in thanks.
"I hardly need them," said Tirian, "Really." He pulled his tunic over his shoulders, ignoring the sharp protest of all of his muscles, and motioned to his perfectly smooth abdomen, not a scar to be seen.
Mal rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you could have more consideration around a lady."
"What lady? You're the only ones here."
She pursed her lips, and Hosha giggled.
Tirian held up his tunic, drenched all through with his own blood and the much darker giant's blood. It was ripped where the branch had pierced, fabric hanging thick and black and dried, though the memory of it was now more like a bad dream and not quite like something that had actually happened. "Well, this is a fine mess."
Shadoht took it from him. "I'll get some of Hosha's clothes for you until you can change into your own."
"Thank you," he said as she disappeared off into some other part of the house, and Mal crossed her arms.
"Really, what were you thinking? Running off by yourselves?"
While anyone might have said she was the very image of her mother—the same delicate arch of the nose, the same thin lips and dark eyes and refined jawline—Shadoht carried about her a warmth, from her gaze to her voice to her manners, and for every ounce of that warmth, Mal was just as icy. With the same eyes her gaze was twice as sharp, almost dangerous in its accuracy, and it flashed to Tirian now.
"Well, we weren't actually planning to fight anyone," he said, flopping down onto a cushioned bench and spreading his arms over the back. Jewel lowered himself onto the rug and Cinder leapt from Hosha's shoulders onto a round pillow in an ornate chair.
"Sure," said Mal, "That's why you brought a sword."
"I wasn't about to take chances! I knew something was up with those giants and I was right, do you usually walk fully armed into a foreign country and expect a welcome wagon?"
"You couldn't have waited ten hours?"
"Those Narnians didn't have ten hours! If nobody was in danger we wouldn't have attacked!"
Mal just pursed her lips. Even she couldn't argue against that, though it looked like she very much wanted to.
"You have to tell me everything," said Hosha, plopping down beside Tirian and tucking his legs up underneath himself, leaning in with anticipation. "Don't leave out a single detail."
So Tirian started from the beginning, from the moment Jewel suggested riding on his back (which shocked Hosha so much that it took several minutes to get past the ride through the forest), and even the arrival of the healers didn't hinder the animated tale as he described the giants and all of the ensuing battle.
Cinder tossed in his own commentary here and there, though it wasn't particularly helpful, and the nicest thing he managed to say was "Not bad, for a human. Except for when you died. We'll work on it."
The healers rather quickly deduced that Tirian was perfectly fine save for a great deal of bruising and a few scratches, which were promptly treated, and moved on to tending Jewel's scraped legs while Lady Shadoht returned with a fresh blue tunic for Tirian.
It fit nearly perfectly, except that Hosha was a little broader.
"What were they even doing here?" asked Hosha when Tirian's story finally concluded. "I mean, why would they be capturing rabbits of all things?"
"Beats me," said Tirian, "They were so… I don't know. I almost can't even call them giants, at least not like our kind, not even Stonefoot. They were… something else."
"And they weren't just capturing rabbits," said Cinder, "I saw them, they were after anything that moved. Or, anything that spoke."
Tirian furrowed his brow.
Hosha sighed. "I still can't believe you killed a giant. I've never killed anything."
"We've been hunting," said Tirian with an eye roll, "You've shot dozens of pheasants, and almost a bear that one time."
"Yeah but I want to fight. I beat you, I bet I could beat a giant."
"You did not beat me."
Hosha opened his mouth, but before his argument could escape, the chief healer stood up and reported that everything seemed to be in order, Jewel's injuries were minor and they would both be right as rain after a good long rest.
Lady Shadoht thanked them as they made their way out, and reiterated the part about rest. "You really ought to get some sleep, you've been out all night."
"I'm not tired," muttered Tirian.
"Well," said Mal, "I'm leaving."
"Where are you going?" asked Hosha.
"To meet friends. You're not the only people I know."
"We're more fun, though," said Tirian, and Mal shot him a look.
"I think we may disagree on the definition of fun."
"Yeah," said Hosha, "Go have a good time with the boring people."
"I will," she said, gathering her hair back behind her shoulders and brushing her fingers through to straighten the flyaways. On her way toward the door, she paused and glanced back at Tirian. "I'm glad you're not dead."
"Thanks," he said, and she turned and walked out, shoes clicking away over the stone.
"How could anyone want to be around that," muttered Hosha, tone hushed as if he was afraid she would still somehow hear him. "You know that's the closest she's ever going to get to saying I love you, right?"
Tirian snorted. "I think I like it better this way."
Then Jewel hauled himself to his feet.
"Hey, where are you going?" asked Hosha.
"I believe I'll be more comfortable outside."
Tirian realized it was the first time the Unicorn had spoken since they'd reached the House. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," said Jewel, "Just a bit tired from lugging your sorry carcass halfway across the country."
Tirian swatted his flank but grinned. "We have had a rather grand adventure."
Jewel just swished his tail and followed Mal out the door, leaving Hosha and Tirian alone as Cinder wandered off to find a good patch of sunlight and Shadoht busied herself about the mending, gathering up bundles of silk in her arms and taking them to another room.
"Move," said Tirian, "This is mine now." He shoved Hosha off of the bench to a small show of indignation, but his friend moved easily to sit on the floor and yanked one of the pillows out from under Tirian, flopping down onto it and folding his hands behind his head.
Tirian pulled another pillow from the other side of the bench and laid back, rolling over onto his side to look down at Hosha, who was staring at the ceiling.
"Were you scared?" asked Hosha eventually.
"No," said Tirian after a few moments of thought. "It was exhilarating, really, I didn't have much time to be scared."
Hosha sighed wistfully.
Tirian wound his memory back, the whole story playing out again. "All those animals, though," he murmured. "I've never seen something like that. They were just… it was evil."
Hosha looked up at him, dark eyes suddenly fiery. "I hope that giant comes back just so we can beat it again. Who do they think they are, walking into Narnia like that?"
Tirian smiled a little at his friend's burst of passion, even when the same feeling ignited in his own chest. "If it comes back, you be sure to give it a piece of your mind."
"I will," said Hosha, "Don't joke with me, I really will."
Tirian grinned. "I know. I'm quaking just thinking about it."
Hosha took his pillow and whacked Tirian with it before he had time to react.
"Pfft, hey!"
"Boys," calls Shadoht warningly from across the house. "I said rest."
"Sorry, Mum," Hosha called back, and begrudgingly flopped back down on his pillow.
They looked at each other and burst into giggles.
It was nearly half an hour later when at last Tirian drifted off to sleep, and the fall was so gradual he didn't even notice the room slipping away until he snapped back to consciousness at the touch of a strong hand on his shoulder.
He blinked.
Lord Gareth straightened above him, and Tirian furrowed his brow, glancing around the room, Hosha's pillow discarded beside the bench, shadows stretching where they hadn't been before, afternoon light streaming in through the windows.
He sat up with a stifled groan, pushing back messy hair as he squinted up at Gareth.
"Sleep well?" asked the lord in his warm, good-natured voice.
"Mm," mumbled Tirian, "Where's Hosha?"
"That, as usual, is beyond my knowledge," he chuckled, "but we've just returned from the north and your father is holding a council. He has requested your Highness' presence."
