CHAPTER SEVEN: FALLEN ANGELS

Tirian drew a sharp breath.

He did not for a second think to doubt the wild girl's words, so certain was the terror in her eyes that for a moment he was struck speechless, too.

"You— you know something about the giants?"

The girl swallowed, and he couldn't tell if she nodded or if it was only the trembling that shook her matted copper curls.

A thousand questions crowded into his head, but what he said, almost under his breath, was "I need to get you back to the Cair."

For the first time, the slightest hint of confusion edged out the fear in her eyes. "The what?"

"The royal city," he clarified, his wits catching up to him all at once. If she'd never met a talking beast before, then she certainly wouldn't have known Cair Paravel. "Sorry, I don't know how to— this is Narnia, by the way." He motioned pointlessly to the trees around them, long branches overhanging the river, the canopy still shimmering from yesterday's rain in the early afternoon sunlight.

She glanced around, seeming to take it all in for the first time.

"It's just, if you know something about the giants, then we need to know too."

She didn't look away from the trees. Faintly she nodded, but he wasn't totally sure she was listening.

"I'm sorry," he said, "What's your name?"

"Elise," the girl said reflexively, "Daughter of…" She trailed off in a breath, stuttering, grey eyes flicking back to him as if coming back to reality.

Tirian didn't know what to do with the silence that followed, so he just nodded.

"This is Jewel." He motioned to the Unicorn at his shoulder. "I'm Tirian. My father is King Erlian, I'm sure he will be glad to know anything you can tell us."

Elise blinked. "The King? So then… you're…?"

"The Prince," he supplied. "Yeah, don't let that bother you, though, you don't have to call me anything special if you don't want to." He glanced back at the forest. "Are you okay to walk? It's kind of a long way."

She made a motion that might have been a shrug under all her bedraggled trappings. "I've come this far."

Tirian bit back the question that rose at once to his throat. How far is this far?

She still hadn't told him where she came from, but based on her reaction, he wasn't sure he should ask again.

"Alright," he said, resolving to save it for later. "It's this way, then."

He held his hand out to help her over a log, and then they were trekking through thick forest, the thrill of the stranger and the mystery thrumming through Tirian's chest even in spite of the dread that lingered there.

Jewel stuck close to his other side, the boy and the Unicorn commenting every now and then on the places they passed, woodland homes nestled into branches or roots, the tops of old ruined towers peeking over the canopy where owls roosted during the day.

Elise gazed around as they walked, and stole short glances at Jewel, which Tirian pretended not to notice.

He couldn't help but grin the first time a passing fox surprised her with its cheerful "good afternoon!"

"Can all the animals talk in Narnia?" she asked when it had gone well out of earshot.

"Most of them," said Tirian, "And the trees, too, when they feel like it."

Elise looked up into the thick tangle of branches with wide eyes, and Tirian smiled to himself again.

She couldn't have been much older than him, though it was hard to tell under the layer of grime, and she sucked in a little gasp when at last, hours later, they came in sight of the shining towers and turrets of Cair Paravel, the sea beyond it stretching into pale blue eternity.

She almost couldn't seem to take in the size of it, slowing to gaze up at the arch of the gates as they passed through into the bright courtyard.

"Jewel, would you send word to Father?" he murmured, and the Unicorn broke at once into a canter up the street toward the palace.

Tirian waved to the guards and got a few bewildered waves in return as he led Elise further into the bustle of the city. She stood out now in her filthy things, even more than she had in the forest.

He scanned the street as they walked and his heart jumped when at last he spotted the telltale gleam of Mal's straight black hair across the wide market lane.

"Mal!"

The girl glanced over her shoulder, dark eyes locking onto them at once and then widening. The next moment the fruit stall was forgotten, skirts trundled up in her hands as she hurried across the paving stones, a basket bouncing in the crook of her elbow.

"Tirian!" she gasped, "What on earth— who— where did—?"

"This is Elise," he cut in before she could articulate any of her questions, "Jewel and I found her crossing the Shribble, she came from the Moors, she knows about the giants." The words tumbled out almost too quickly to be coherent, but Mal's eyes flashed with understanding.

She nodded to the girl. "Hello."

"This is Mal," supplied Tirian, and Elise made a little curtsey, awkward under the bundle of her cloak and muddy skirts.

"Malahki," clarified Mal, but moved on without scolding Tirian for the improper introduction. Her voice was clearer and stronger now than it had been in days. "Come on, let me take her to the house, get her cleaned up. Does the King know about this?"

"Jewel is on his way to tell him now," said Tirian, and hurried to guide Elise after Mal, who'd already started walking.

For once in his life he was glad for her efficiency, though Elise looked a bit left behind by the whole ordeal and still tried to look around at the towering stone buildings and all the different sorts of people passing them on the streets. Fauns smiled their good afternoons, two mice squeaked up at Tirian, and a massive centaur nodded such a majestic greeting as would put most kings to shame. Elise craned her neck to watch as he went on behind them.

Mal led the way up through the entryway to the House, out of the street and into the grand sitting room.

"Malahki?" called Shadoht from the kitchen, drying her hands as she stepped into view, "Did you get more— Oh, who's this?"

Tirian repeated the whole story, slower this time, and Shadoht took Elise by the hands, looking the girl up and down with the deepest wells of concern flooding her eyes.

"My dear child, are you hungry?"

Elise nodded, and didn't even have time to say it aloud before Shadoht sent Mal into the kitchen to fetch whatever she could find.

"We must get you into something clean," said the woman, "I'll prepare a bath, and a room if you'll be needing one, you just make yourself comfortable and I'll be right back."

Elise looked to Tirian for help, clearly overwhelmed as the regal Lady hurried from the room.

He smiled. "They're always like this, don't feel too burdened by it."

She lowered her head, quiet for a moment, and then leaned in almost sheepishly. "Their skin is so beautiful."

Tirian glanced back to where Shadoht had disappeared. He blinked. "You've never seen brown skin before either?"

She shook her head.

He let out a breath as his chest flooded again with awe for whatever had brought this girl so far. "Well, Lady Shadoht fled to Narnia from Calormen, in the south, like many did during the last war. Mal was a baby then. Lots of people have darker skin there."

It was a strange thing to say aloud, especially since he'd never thought much about it before, having grown up with Mal and Hosha practically as his own siblings.

Elise gazed on in wonder, and then the front door banged open and Hosha rushed in as if Tirian had summoned him with his mere thoughts.

The boy kicked off his shoes in the entryway and glanced up from his usual hurry just as he stepped into the sitting room.

"Wha— Tir? I thought you went—" But then his eyes landed on Elise.

He pulled up short, words forgotten at the sight of the stranger, a mere statue of a boy in the middle of the room as he stared.

The silence stretched on for so long that Tirian had to clear his throat. "Hosh? You okay?"

Hosha tore his eyes from the girl, lifting a finger tentatively to point as if Tirian somehow hadn't noticed her right beside him. "Who's that?"

"This is Elise," said Tirian for the third time. "I found her crossing the river, she's from the north."

Hosha looked back and stared again, nearly as bewildered by her as she had been by Jewel. "Hi."

She lifted her hand in an awkward wave. "Hello."

The silence returned. Hosha seemed incapable of speech.

"This is Hosha," introduced Tirian for him. "Her brother," he added, jabbing a thumb back toward the kitchen. "My, uh, friend."

"Best friend," he corrected, finally snapping out of his stupor. "I'm his best friend."

Elise extended a pale, skeletal hand. "Nice to meet you, Hosha."

He stepped forward hesitantly to take it, almost as if he were afraid to break her. "You too. Is that a wolf pelt?"

She looked down at her cloak and Tirian realized now that it did look a bit like some sort of animal, though it was so dirty and bunched up he didn't know how Hosha could tell what kind. "Yes, we had a lot of them last year. It was my first."

"Wait, you killed it?"

Elise nodded and grinned slightly, and it was the first time Tirian had actually seen her smile.

Hosha was staring again. "Wow."

"Alright, shoo," said Mal, whisking back into the room to wave Hosha away and hand Elise a few slices of some kind of fruit bread in an embroidered napkin.

At the same moment, Shadoht reappeared.

"Why don't you two occupy yourselves someplace else," the woman suggested as they took Elise off into another room.

Hosha's eyes snapped to Tirian the moment they were gone. There would be no occupying him.

"You just found her?"

"Yeah, how many times do I have to say it? She was coming down from the mountains."

"Give me the whole story, now."

"That's basically it. She hasn't said much about herself, but she knows something about the giants. Oh, and she didn't even know Narnia existed before now."

"What?" Hosha's eyes shone with a wonder that now reminded Tirian of Elise. "How is that even possible? How far away is she from?"

"I guess we'll find out," said Tirian. "I'm sure Father will want to see her."

He was proven right only a few minutes later when Jewel came in with the message that Erlian would come around to the house whenever she was ready for company, as there was no need to trot her all over the palace.

This left them only to wait.

And wait they did, no matter how many times Jewel suggested they might be happier if they went outside and actually did something.

Hosha could not be moved from the cushioned seat he planted himself in, except to pace, which he did frequently, and he asked so many of the same questions over and over again that Tirian finally whacked him with a pillow and accidentally started a small war.

This at least served as a suitable distraction for several minutes and left both boys giggling, draped dramatically over the furniture with cushions all askew as feathers floated through the air from the downy pillow that had met its unfortunate demise on Jewel's horn.

But then they were waiting again, and Hosha rolled onto the floor.

"How long do you think she was out there?"

Tirian glanced around for a pillow to lob at him, but to his chagrin they were already all on the floor. His hand closed around a cushion instead.

"Hey, wait, no," Hosha raised his hands in defense, and Tirian shot him a look of warning. "I just mean… with all that rain…"

Tirian loosened his grip and their eyes met. "I didn't think of that."

"Yeah." Hosha flopped flat on his back. "It must be bad, huh?"

"Well, she certainly gets nervous enough about mentioning anything." Tirian leaned his head back over the carved arm of the bench. "Or, I don't know if nervous is the right word. Haunted, maybe. Scared."

A furry black figure moved in the window. "I would be scared too, if the first thing I met in a foreign country was you."

Both boys jerked up to look as Cinder leapt down from the deep window sill and stalked across the room to test an abandoned pillow, afternoon light casting him in an orange glow.

"Have you been here this whole time?" asked Tirian, brow furrowing indignantly.

The Cat only settled down onto his new nest, looking a little too proud of himself as his muscles worked under his fur. "You know, you really can't sunbathe in peace around here."

"Get your own house," said Hosha.

Cinder flicked his tail.

Almost an hour later, the far door clicked open and Mal's voice jingled with gentle laughter halfway through a sentence as she stepped inside and another set of footsteps followed her into the room.

Hosha bolted upright and Tirian stood a second later.

He had to blink to even recognize the girl next to Mal.

Her hair was not only copper, but fiery red, falling in a mane of curls around her shoulders, and without all that grime she was almost pretty, in her own way, cheeks spattered with freckles and glowing with a slight rosacea flush. She was wearing one of Mal's dresses, green and gold, the hem just brushing the floor as Elise was at least three inches shorter than the girl who now hovered at her shoulder as if bound by some unseen force.

But before either of the boys could say anything, Shadoht's voice snapped from the doorway.

"Hosha! I thought I told you to occupy yourselves!"

Tirian and Hosha glanced around at the sitting area, the floor now dusted with a layer of white feathers and littered with mismatched pillows of all different shapes and sizes.

"We did!"

The Lady stopped in the middle of the room and crossed her arms, looking a great deal more like Mal than even Mal herself did at the moment.

"Sorry Mum," amended Hosha quickly, and ducked to pick up an armload of pillows before she could reproach him again.

Tirian hurried to follow, and Shadoht shook her head with a sigh. "Really, at your age."

"Technically this was Jewel's fault," said Hosha, scooping feathers into his hands and stuffing them into his pockets.

Cinder leapt up to the back of a bench as the boy dislodged his seat. "You hit a Unicorn in the face. You're lucky your heart is still beating."

Tirian didn't miss Elise's tiny start when the Cat spoke.

"My Lady," said Jewel, now turning to Shadoht, "The King has requested an audience with our guest, whenever she finds such an occasion agreeable."

Tirian glanced at Elise, who went slightly white and swallowed.

Lady Shadoht looked to her, too. "If you would rather rest first, I'm sure his Majesty will understand."

Elise glanced between the Lady and Tirian, clutching her skirts with hands that were still far too bony for comfort. "I… I can hardly deny an audience with the King," she said at last. "If it would help."

Tirian offered her a small smile.

Jewel went at once to fetch the King, and when he returned a great while later, both Erlian and Gareth were with him.

Hosha stuffed the last feather into his pocket.

Elise bobbed a short curtsey as the King ducked through the doorway, more graceful this time, but with the slightest tremble as her eyes lingered on the golden crown in Erlian's silver hair.

He smiled gently and greeted her before turning to meet Shadoht, too.

"It's okay," whispered Tirian when Mal took her to sit down, plopping right beside them. "You needn't think of him as a King, he's only my father."

"Yes," breathed Elise, clutching the hems of her sleeves, "But Kings are from fairy tales. I mean, the closest to nobility I've ever known were my village elders."

"Well, then, think of him like that. He may look grand, but really he's alright."

His father cast a glance across the room as the adults came to sit down, too, and Tirian shot him a broad smile, earning a suspicious smirk in return, though behind it all the King's eyes were still tired.

Soon enough they all found themselves crowded into the newly repaired sitting room: Tirian, Hosha, Gareth, Shadoht, Cinder, Jewel, Erlian, and Mal with her hand on Elise's back, reassuring the girl quietly that she need only say what she was comfortable with.

Erlian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and prompted gently, "How do you know about the giants?"

Elise studied her hands, several moments passing in dead silence before at last she spoke. "They attacked my village."

Tirian and Hosha glanced at each other.

"You say I am from the north, but in my home, we are the southernmost of all known territory, just off the sea, the inland isle of Madlen."

"Well, we don't have that on any maps," muttered Gareth. He sounded almost impressed.

"Nor do we have your country on ours," said Elise, eyes flicking to the lord. "We know only what is to the north and west of us. Barren wasteland has always been our fortress, but beyond that lies the land of the mountain demons, or, giants, as you call them, though they are not pure giants."

"Not pure giants?" asked Hosha. "How do you mean?"

"I know only what my father relayed to me," she said, her accent lending the faintest lilt to her words, "But he told the tale like this. Long ago, a giantish people ruled a city now called Ruinous, and in the latter days of that kingdom, as it was failing, some broke off and went north. They married the fae people they found there. That is where the creatures you know today come from; legendary warriors, men of renown. But they became powerful, and destroyed the last of their parentage, fae and giant alike."

"The City Ruinous," murmured Hosha. "Like in the stories."

Tirian nodded, lungs swelling so that he could hardly breathe. He had been wondering what happened to the ancient giants since he was old enough to read the tales for himself.

"Always have they been seeking to expand their territory," said Elise, "First conquering smaller giantish settlements, but then they began to move south." She swallowed. "My village feared it for a long time, though we hoped the water would protect us."

She fell silent for several moments, and something flipped over in Tirian's stomach.

"I was out hunting," she said, much quieter now. "That's the only reason I…" She took a breath, gathering resolve, and even then it took several moments for the words to escape, trailing off until they were barely audible. "They left nothing. My family, my people… all dead."

Hosha looked up, expression sober. "All of them?" he asked quietly, as if he couldn't quite conceive of such a thing.

Truthfully, neither could Tirian. He tried to imagine it, how it might feel to be the last alive in the Cair.

She only nodded, and Hosha looked down at his hands.

Mal squeezed the girl's frail shoulders.

"I saw it all from a distance. The fires. I fled south. It took me nearly twenty days to come here, though I fear I lost count by the end."

Gareth leaned back in his chair and let out a deep breath. "They will come back," he said quietly to Erlian, echoing the words Elise had spoken at the river.

The King nodded. "I see no other way, now. If they have taken Harfang, they are already moving further south than her village. They will take us no matter what."

The pronouncement sent a chill up Tirian's spine.

Then the King turned to Elise. "Thank you. If in any way we can repay you for this information, please do not hesitate to ask. You are welcome at Cair Paravel for as long as you would like to stay."

Elise nodded a sort of sitting half-bow, stammering for a moment. "I— thank you, your Majesty."

Next he glanced at Shadoht. "I trust she will be well taken care of?" The twinkle in his eye said he already knew the answer.

"We have plenty of room," she said, and her tone said anything less would be unthinkable.

Erlian smiled, and stood up. "Then we will not keep you any longer."

Tirian took the hint that he was meant to follow. He stood and bade goodnight to the room (the sun was now well down and candlelight flickered in the windows), and glanced back to share one last wordless look with Hosha before walking across to the entryway.

Part of him wanted to stay and ask more questions, but there was enough information swirling in his mind already to keep him well occupied. And in any case, Elise's tale seemed to have tired her out, now leaning heavily on Mal's shoulder.

If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought they were lifelong friends.

Jewel followed them out the door, and parted with another goodnight to head for the far courtyard.

Tirian fell into step beside the King, the summer night's breeze rustling his tunic and blowing wisps of stray hair over his eyes as he glanced up into his father's face.

Even distracted by whatever thoughts churned behind piercing blue eyes, the strength of Erlian's features carried a trustworthy calm, the shape of the crown lending a majesty to his silhouette in the moonlight that he hardly needed. Anyone would have recognized that nobility, with or without a symbol of kingship.

The image sent a rushing cool current through the blaze in Tirian's chest, even as the terrible words replayed in his head. They left nothing… All dead.

For a while they walked in silence, and they were coming up on the palace gates by the time Tirian finally spoke. "We will have war, won't we?"

Erlian looked down at him.

Of course, Tirian already knew the answer, but somehow he wanted to hear it.

"We will meet them in battle, yes. By Aslan's grace we may defeat them on the first turn and have no need for war."

Tirian looked down, matching steps with his father's swift and purposeful stride.

Erlian ruffled his hair. "We have some time to prepare," he added, tone lighter. "Our runaway cannot yet have reached Harfang. We may have a week or more before we risk facing any army."

Tirian smiled up at him. "We'll win."

"We have no other choice," said the King. The words were serious, yet laced with the sort of straightforward optimism he always seemed to carry about him.

Sometimes Tirian thought his father embodied everything one could possibly find Narnian.

He smiled to himself, and together they climbed the wide staircase up toward the royal apartments.

"I will not ask what you were doing up at the Moors again," said his father, stopping in the hall, "But I hope I can be assured it will not happen again until this issue is dealt with."

"Yes, Father," said Tirian.

Erlian squeezed his shoulder and moved to turn into his study.

"Are you working tonight?"

"Yes, I ought to make some preparations before speaking to the others tomorrow."

"Can't you do it in the other room?"

Erlian glanced back and took a breath, eyes sweeping over Tirian's face as if truly taking it in for the first time. He sighed, and the slightest smile tugged at his lips. "I suppose, I could."

Tirian grinned and leapt ahead into the common room they shared between their quarters, Erlian following at a more reasonable pace as he collected his things, a stack of books, a roll of parchment, the inkwell from his study. Tirian was waiting on the sofa beside the low table when at last his father settled beside him, watching as he flipped through pages in the lamplight and marked something with a quill pen, dipped it and then marked again.

Tirian rested his chin on his father's shoulder, tracking the delicate lines of his handwriting, beautiful arcing loops even in the hasty scrawl. But his head was too busy to focus on any of the words, churning up a restless energy even as his limbs grew heavy.

It wasn't the same energy that had plagued him the night before the scouting trip, though, or the thrill of adventure in that first ride with Jewel. It was deeper, in his very bones, lightning snapping in the clouds of his mind.

Did he want it, somehow? A war?

The images he'd conjured during Elise's tale played back to him again, cruel and beautiful monsters destroying everything in their path, leveling villages to ash, and something ignited in his veins. That same power he'd felt with giant-blood drenched through his hands, washing out the helpless frustration with something stronger.

"Shouldn't you get some sleep?" Erlian's voice rumbled in his ear.

Tirian shifted and flopped down onto his father's lap, twisting to get comfortable. "I can sleep here."

Erlian chuckled. "You used to do this, you know."

Tirian smiled. "I remember."

He'd been six, the last time his father had a war to worry about, the last time this kind of cloud had hung about him, dwelling late into the night on plans Tirian had been much too young to comprehend. But he still remembered the sound of the pen scratching over parchment, his father's soft muttering, the flicker of lamplight dancing over the table as his eyelids grew heavy.

"You were a good deal smaller then. I fear this sofa has not grown to accommodate you."

"I still fit." Tirian stuck his legs out over the arm, proving rather the opposite, but grinning all the same.

Erlian smiled and ruffled his hair, bending to plant a scratchy kiss on his temple, and Tirian squirmed away with a giggle to rub it off, rolling over and hiding from the flickering light in his father's tunic.

The scratch of the pen resumed, and his thoughts faded and blurred.

Monsters still roamed in his mind, but here, the comfortable warmth kept them at bay.

Here, nothing could shatter the churning confidence in his veins.

Here, even war didn't scare him.