A/N: Thank you as always to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on this story, I literally can't emphasize enough just how much that means to me and how grateful I am to every single person reading right now!
And for the other name pronunciation:
Shadoht — SHAH-dote
Happy reading!
xXx
CHAPTER FOUR: SEPARATION
Tirian was suddenly fully awake. "What? Me?"
His mind raced double time to put the pieces together. Gareth was back. His father was back. A council. And he was going?
He shot to his feet, and Gareth chuckled.
"Get yourself together, I'll walk with you up to the castle."
Tirian hurriedly ran both hands through his golden rat's nest and stooped to look in the low mirror on the wall just to the side of the entryway.
Shadoht came in from another room to greet her husband.
"How did it go?" she asked, hugging him and then pulling back with her hands on his waist. Tirian could see them in the mirror, reflected like a perfect painting, noble man and graceful wife, pale hand tilting brown chin.
"That remains to be seen," said Gareth. "I'll be back before dinner, we shouldn't be long."
He leaned in to kiss her and Tirian remembered he was supposed to be making himself presentable, quickly glancing over his own face and rubbing off the residual blood from a scab on his jaw.
Threads of resin-bound patch work peeked from his hairline where the healers had closed a small gash, but overall he looked like nothing had even happened, blue eyes clear as ever, high cheeks unblemished, nose arching ever so slightly where it had once been broken by Hosha's then-much-smaller fist.
He turned back.
"Ready?" asked Gareth, and Tirian nodded, shooting a quick goodbye to Shadoht over his shoulder as he raced out the front door.
It was all he could do to wait for Gareth in the street without bolting off by himself, but the lord's long stride caught up with him soon enough.
Cair Paravel stood majestic in the harsh slanting sun that lit up its every tower and cast Tirian's and Gareth's shadows out ahead of them as they passed intricate clusters of buildings, layered on top of each other to fill every nook and cranny with life all the way up to the palace itself, the grand entry hall opening up around them as Gareth turned up a flight of stairs.
Tirian already knew where they were going, hurrying up the corridor and bursting in through the doors to the long arched council hall, already filled with lords and other important officials seated along the dark table that spanned the length of the room and gleamed in flickering lamplight.
Tirian's eyes flew at once to his father where he stood speaking with another lord, royal robes still dirty from riding, loose grey hairs curling around the golden crown.
"Well?" he asked, skidding to a stop just beside him.
"Easy," said his father, squeezing Tirian's shoulder in greeting, "You'll find out when everyone else does." Then he glanced at Gareth. "I suppose you two were the last ones."
He nodded to the other lord and took his seat at the head of the table, Tirian hurrying to sit to his left as the last of the men followed suit, Gareth just a few chairs down from Tirian.
"It seems," said Erlian once everyone was seated, "That what my errant prince reported is true." He shot Tirian a faint smile with these words, but sobered quickly. "We found several forest homes destroyed and many of their occupants with them. The rabbits told us what they could, but I'm afraid they were still badly shaken, and most other creatures fled the area."
Tirian's stomach turned.
"It would seem, from their story, that these giants were more interested in capturing our beasts, but did not hesitate to kill any who resisted."
"Why would they do that?" asked one of the lords at the other end of the table. "It seems like a very strange attack to me."
"I would call it an act of war," said the man directly to Erlian's right, "Save that we have never before even heard of these brutes. What cause have they to spark war with Narnia?"
Tirian knew Lord Bran well; a shrewd and sharp-eyed man who had fought at his father's side in the last war, hair trimmed short, neat black beard beginning to grey.
"I would like to know the same," said Erlian. "I would like to know where they came from. We have no record of such creatures on any map or in any history book, unless the scholars turn up something we've forgotten."
"What of the giant that got away?" asked Tirian, "Jewel and Cinder injured it rather grievously."
Erlian shook his head. "We found only one body, but there was a trail leading up toward the Moors. It left enough of its blood behind to be sure it was injured."
"Perhaps that will send enough of a message," said another lord, "To wherever it came from."
"Or make it worse," said Gareth, but his expression and demeanor were relaxed, and Tirian was already well accustomed to the lord's habit of presenting the worst scenarios at every available opportunity.
"For now we will hope for the former," said Erlian. "What of the birds?"
"They have not yet returned," said Lord Bran.
"What birds?" asked Tirian, glancing from Bran to his father.
"We sent some volunteers to scout the northern border and the Moors, before you got back from your excursion." He gave Tirian a small smirk but his expression was serious. "In the event there were any more giants to the north we ought to know about. They should have been back well before now."
"Then we go ourselves," said Gareth, leaning back in his seat. "I can take a party north, if they don't return by the morrow."
"Is that wise?" asked another lord. "Surely if the birds had trouble—"
"Then it is our duty to find them, too," said Gareth, and Erlian nodded absently.
"Yes…" muttered the king, and then seemed to come back to himself. "Some danger may have prevented them from returning. And in any case, the Moors are full of caves, there are many places even a bird could not see from above."
"It's true," said Tirian, "Hosha and Jewel and I go up there all the time, it's like a maze. If there are any more giants up there they have plenty of places to hide."
Some of the lords still looked uneasy, but none could deny the king's point.
"That's settled, then," said Erlian, "If no birds are back in the morning with news, Gareth will take a party up to scout. We must know whether there are more of them, and if so how many, and how close. We will not be caught off guard again."
This was something upon which everyone could agree, and then Erlian asked Tirian to describe his experience to the room, to which he easily obliged. He told of the speed of the monsters, the skill. Erlian's party had seen for themselves the armor of the brute Tirian felled, the expert craftsmanship rivaling even the abilities of Narnian dwarfs, and it soon became clear to everyone else that these were not simply mindless beasts as they were accustomed to.
But throughout the rest of the meeting, there was only one thought in Tirian's mind.
He followed his father out into the hall the moment the council adjourned, hurrying to fall into step beside him as they descended the steps into the great pillared central hall of the palace.
"Let me go."
"Excuse me?"
"With Gareth, tomorrow, up to the Moors. I just told you we go up there all the time, I know it as well as the city. I want to help!"
"Don't you think you've done enough?" He said it with a smile, but the point still hung sharp in the air. "How can I send you up into the mountains when it has not yet even been twenty four hours since you last broke orders and nearly got yourself killed?"
"You would still be trying to reason with the monsters if I hadn't. Even more Narnians might be dead! I saved you some time. And besides, you never told me not to go, so technically I didn't break any orders."
Erlian shot him a dry look. "You know you're not too old for a whipping. I only thought you might have learned your lesson without it."
Tirian just smiled sheepishly.
At last Erlian stopped and sighed, and Tirian turned to face him.
"Tirian, you're only sixteen. This is serious now, you're not a soldier."
"You fought in battles when you were sixteen, you said so just yesterday!"
"Yes, because I disobeyed my father."
"But I bet you saved lives."
"I was in deep trouble for that."
"History doesn't have to repeat itself."
Erlian pursed his lips, Tirian grinned, and Erlian shook his head, bringing a hand up to rub his temples.
He sighed again. "I never did know what to do with you."
Tirian just watched him, waiting expectantly.
Finally he looked up again, pale blue eyes glinting in torchlight. "Your mother would have known how to tame you. Without her I've let you run free, and now here you are, becoming just like me."
Tirian blinked in faint surprise. His father almost never mentioned his mother. She died when he was born, he never met her, but he'd spent his life gazing up at the portrait above his father's mantle, delicate features and dark flowing locks that were so different from his own and his father's, ever-young in ultramarine brushstrokes. The kingdom said he was his father's copy, but Erlian said he had her look about him, too.
"Well," said Tirian, "I don't see how she could be too opposed to that. She did marry you, after all."
Erlian smiled in spite of his best efforts, a short laugh escaping him.
Tirian repressed a grin, still watching his father in expectation.
"The willow woman spoke of your bravery," he said at last, and Tirian's heart rose. "It is a feat to slay a giant at any age, no less in your first real battle."
"Does that mean I can go?"
Erlian sighed, and looked as if he would like to reproach himself, but eventually he caved. "Yes, you can go."
Tirian bounced on the balls of his feet and flung his arms around his father.
"But follow orders this time," Erlian said in his ear, beard scratching his cheek, "If Gareth tells me you strayed so much as an inch out of line, I'll confine you to the palace till you're grey headed and too old to fight."
Tirian pulled back and saluted with a fist to his chest.
"Oh," said Erlian, unbuckling a belt and handing Tirian's sword sheath to him, silver hilt shining out of it. "I suppose you'll be needing this, though I should hope you won't have to use it."
Tirian hurriedly buckled it around his own waist, standing even straighter.
"Now shoo, off to dinner. I have some things to finish here without you pestering me all night."
"Yes sir," said Tirian at once, and turned to go before Erlian grabbed him back into one more tight hug and ruffled his hair.
Tirian laughed, worming his way out of the embrace with some difficulty, and shot his father one more grin and a wave before bolting away toward the courtyard and the great hall.
By the time he'd finished his dinner and had any time to look for Jewel or Hosha, the sun was already setting, and he suspected he wouldn't get very far trying to get through Mal to talk to her brother at this hour, so instead he wandered around to the guest stables.
They were more like houses than stables, meant for talking horses, not dumb horses, whenever they visited the Cair for business or pleasure, and it was where Jewel stayed when he came up nearly every month from his home in the southern plains.
Sure enough, the Unicorn was lounging under the gabled wooden entrance, white flank gleaming with hints of every color in the last of the light.
"Jewel!" he called at once, rushing across the courtyard and crashing down at the Unicorn's side, knees scraping over straw and stone.
Jewel's legs were bandaged, but the cuts he'd seen earlier were only shallow lashes from the underbrush, and there was no blood even on the thin bandages.
"Gareth is leading a party out to the Moors tomorrow—at least if the scouting birds aren't back by then—and father said I could go!"
The Unicorn's ears pricked up in an expression which on a human might have looked something like a quirk of the eyebrow. "He did?"
"I know, I didn't really expect him to say yes either, but he was so impressed with how we dealt with the giants, I guess we really did prove ourselves!" Then a thought struck him. "Oh, should I have asked if you could go, too?"
The Unicorn chuckled, his usual low knicker. "Me? On a scouting mission? I'm not exactly the stealthiest creature, Tirian. Good luck hiding me in the mountains."
"Oh, yeah, I guess you're right." He smiled a little. "I wish you could go, though, we did so well last night. I think we make a great team."
"Don't praise us too highly," said the Unicorn. "It still could have ended badly. You got lucky."
"Lucky? What luck? That was all you and your speed. Look at me, I'm perfectly fine!"
"If that's what you want to call it."
Tirian swatted him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
Jewel shook his mane, and Tirian flopped down against his side.
"We do make a good team," said Jewel, his voice rumbling through his massive ribcage. "I think that's enough adventure for me, though."
Tirian looked up at him incredulously.
"For now, at least," he added quickly, but Tirian wasn't convinced.
"That doesn't sound like you. Wasn't it your idea in the first place?"
Jewel snorted. "You may have boundless energy for adventures, young prince, but you're not the one charging halfway to the mountains twice in one night."
"Young prince?" Tirian sat up again. "I am a full week older than you, you know, where do you get off calling me young?"
"You're also a Son of Adam," said Jewel, "Your lot matures awfully slowly. I was at full height before you could speak full sentences."
"Height, maybe," challenged Tirian, "But you don't just magically gain maturity by being bigger. I mean, look at Hosha, he's bigger than me and he's an idiot."
Jewel shot him a look that said more than any sarcastic words could have. Then a moment later he added "Aren't you taller than him now?"
Tirian ducked his head sheepishly. "Am I? Well, he's still got all the muscle. Just comes naturally to him, it's really not fair. And anyway, my point is that I'm older than both of you, clearly I'm the wise one here."
"Yes, of course," said the Unicorn, and Tirian shot him a dry smile.
"Thanks, I can really feel the respect."
He begrudgingly leaned against Jewel's neck again, laying his head back over the creamy white mane, and gazed up at the arch of the stable.
Something still struck him as off about Jewel's comment on adventures, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Usually the Unicorn didn't hesitate to leap into any adventure he found himself in, the two of them were always of the same mind, even more than he and Hosha were.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked, remembering the way Jewel had left the house earlier, and suddenly wondered if there was something more to it.
"Of course," said the Unicorn. "Are you sure you should be going tomorrow?"
"What? You think I shouldn't?"
"I didn't say that."
"Well it kind of sounds like you're saying that."
"I'm just asking if you're sure," said Jewel, craning his neck around and flicking his tail. His deep black eye met Tirian's, that well of mystery he always understood so well, but now its depths were murky, shrouded from him.
"I'm more sure about this than I've ever been of anything in my life," said Tirian, and he meant it. His heart swelled at the very thought, just as it had last night when they set out for the forest.
"You always are."
Tirian smiled.
He brushed off the strange feeling of disconnect that rose again in his head. He was too happy about the prospect of a quest right now to worry about it, and Jewel was right, he was probably just tired.
Several hours passed before Tirian was tired at all, even long after the sun had set and the shining stars came out.
He took his time going back up to the palace and to his own room, moonlight shining in through open windows and casting its silver glow over his bed.
Even a long bath didn't make him sleepy, and the moonlight had shifted significantly by the time his head finally hit the pillow.
He was rudely awoken just a few hours later by the impact of a large weight landing squarely on top of him, snapping the world groggily back into place around him.
"Mmf— wha—" he complained, shoving the invading weight away, but it only redoubled, and he squinted blearily up to find Hosha sitting on his bed, shaking him awake.
"Oh, get up, will you?"
"What— how— how did you get in here?" He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up against the carved backboard.
"Your father said you were still asleep, so he let me in."
"Wait— but— why?"
"By the Lion, Tir, I don't know how you convinced him to let you go but I'm so glad, my father would never have let me go if you didn't."
"You're going?!" Suddenly he bolted upright, grabbing Hosha by the arms.
His friend nodded so fervently he was practically vibrating, curls bouncing, and Tirian tackled him in a hug that tangled them both in blankets.
"Hey, what time is it, anyway?" he asked after almost suffocating twice.
Hosha rolled off and sat up again, hair sticking on end. "Sunrise was like three hours ago, when did you go to sleep?"
"I couldn't!"
"Yeah, well, I guess that's what happens when you go gallivanting off in the middle of the night without your best friend and then sleep for the rest of the day."
"You're coming with me this time, though," grinned Tirian, and Hosha's mock scowl faltered into a smirk.
"Bet I'll kill more giants than you."
"If there even are any more," said Tirian. "And we're not supposed to be killing them, anyway. Just scouting."
"That's the right answer," said Erlian from the doorway, and Hosha straightened up immediately.
"Sorry, Sire, I didn't actually mean—"
"I know," smiled the king, "Now get out of here, both of you, Gareth is preparing in the courtyard."
Tirian leapt out of bed with Hosha close behind, and threw a real shirt on before giving his father a rushed good morning on his way out the door.
"And get something to eat," called Erlian after him.
Mal was in the courtyard when they arrived (Tirian still munching on a scone he'd stolen from the kitchens) along with her mother and father and an assortment of scouts, including Cinder.
"Oh, great," said Hosha, "Does he have to come too?"
"I could ask the same of you," purred the Cat, and rubbed against Tirian's legs.
"Yes," said Mal, "So could I."
"Not this again," sighed Hosha. "Father, tell her I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
Gareth chuckled. "I think you might first have to prove that fact." Then he leaned into the boys. "And she's a woman, you can't stop them from worrying, it's in their blood." He shot a grin back at his wife and she gave him a smile and a shake of the head.
"Well, then, I hate women," muttered Hosha, only loud enough for Tirian to hear, though from Mal's glare, Tirian guessed her freakishly good hearing had won again.
He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes.
"Just don't die," she said, and walked away back into the city.
Hosha's scowl didn't last long.
Tirian swallowed the last bite of scone.
"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you?" asked Erlian, having taken a more reasonable pace down from the palace.
Gareth turned to him. "I think I can handle one scouting trip. Or have you forgotten the sorts of things we got up to in the war?"
"I don't think you'll ever let me forget," said Erlian. Then he turned to Tirian. "I expect you to follow his orders, no matter what. Despite what appearances may suggest, Lord Gareth does know what he's doing."
Tirian grinned. "I will."
Erlian patted him on the back before the party moved off to saddle up, all sorts of provisions already packed into the saddlebags of the horses that would carry them to the base of the mountains.
"I can't believe we're really doing this," Hosha murmured as they mounted up next to each other.
Tirian grinned.
It wasn't until they rode out through the gates that he realized Jewel hadn't come to see them off.
