Chapter Five

What Happened in the Lone Islands

Dark blood horrendously covered Rhindon, masking its silver sheen. Peter struck its tip to the ground before going down on one knee and leaning his forehead on its golden hilt. For a moment, he let himself rest and allowed the blood to drip away into the ground. He whispered a silent prayer to Aslan for his good grace in this successful battle. He then wiped his sword clean with a handkerchief he always carried for the occasion and sheathed it back into its place.

He surveyed his surroundings. All around him, in what used to be the town square of Narrowhaven, lay the carcasses of the evil creatures that had haunted and persecuted the people of these islands for almost a hundred years. He felt no regret at their deaths, yet he still recoiled at the carnage. Even if he knew these creatures were the foulest to walk this earth, he never found pleasure at ending any of their lives.

He met Oreius' eyes who saluted him. He saluted back with a sad smile. He turned to his other subjects and gave them the same gesture. That was how he met his troops after a victorious battle. No one laughed or screamed with pleasure, only diminutive smiles and a nod to acknowledge that they had done well. For Peter and the rest of the Narnian army knew that there was no such thing as a total triumph in any battle. There are always casualties.

The casualties today only numbered 20 who died and 48 more who were injured. This was a small figure but Peter never made a distinction if one died or 10,000. The occasion for mourning would be the same.

And that was the first task he ordered. After seeing to the care of the wounded, a short ceremony honouring those who had fallen was immediately done before their bodies were burned and their souls commended to Aslan.

Halfway through the funeral rites however, Peter and his troops were startled to hear voices shouting in triumph:

"They are dead! They are all dead!"

All the Narnians stood in alarm, weapons drawn and teeth clenched. But soon the source of the shouting appeared. Men, women and children had come from all directions. They had all run and hid during the fighting but now they had mustered the courage to come out into the square and watch these strangers that had killed their oppressors. They appeared dirty with sunken faces and sallow skin. Their eyes had a haunted look in them and Peter realized how much these people have suffered under the Witch's followers. Even now, they came forward cautiously, as if unsure if the Narnians might do them harm.

Finally one old man with a toothy grin came forward and stared at the image of the Lion on Peter's chest and those emblazoned on their flags.

"Narnia? Aslan?" he asked fearfully.

Peter nodded and put his sword down to indicate they came in peace. The rest of his troops followed suit.

The man's face immediately lit with joy. He turned to the rest of the crowd.

"They are 'ere! The proper Narnians came just like the elders told us 'bout! Praise to Aslan!"

One by one the faces of the crowd lit up the same way as the old man and there was a lot of laughing and crying with relief. Then one young lad uttered a victorious cry and that was soon echoed by the growing crowd.

"'Ail, the liberators! They 'ave killed all the evil! 'Ail! 'Ail!"

Soon there was dancing and singing of triumph. Five young men came forward dragging the dead body of a wolf. They had sharp sticks with them and they began stabbing the body several times, spurting blood everywhere. Peter stared in horror as the crowd egged them on, jeering at the corpse with an almost frenzied state.

"STOP IT!" Peter shouted over all the noise and everything was suddenly silent. The High King pushed through the crowd to get to the center where the dead body lay. He felt their puzzled gazes on him but he stared down at all of them with a look of disapproval. He ordered two of his troops to take the body away gently.

"Bring it with the rest of the other bodies. They are to be burned with dignity after we perform a ceremony for their eternal rest and a petition for their souls to be forgiven."

"But… but Sire…" said the old man who first recognized the Narnian banner.

"He is the High King of Narnia," informed Oreius. "And the rightful Emperor of the Lone Islands. You shall address him as such"

The old man bowed low. "Begging yar pardon, 'ighness," he said. "But these creatures… are wicked. They treat us bad for almost an 'undred years… they are the enemy. 'Onour them… unthinkable… they don't deserve…"

"I am aware of what they have done," replied Peter. "It is not to honour them that we bury them with respect. Instead it is an assertion of our own decency. What separates us from them is that we respect all creatures. If we besmirch their bodies, then we are just as foul as the most evil-hearted of them all." He turned to the rest of the crowd of Lone Islanders. "You will all do well to learn this if you wish to stay in these Islands that I reclaim as part of the Narnian crown. We come here not just to liberate those who are oppressed but to educate all in the tenets of justice and peace."

The crowd all bowed their heads and said nothing.

"I offer all of you a choice. You may remain here and abide by the laws set by Narnia. If you do, I assure you protection and a life free from slavery. If not, you may leave for some other land. Who among you disagrees?"

The crowd was completely silent and Peter was satisfied. He commanded solemnity for the next hour as they finished the ceremony for the dead from both sides. But when it was over, the Lone Islanders and even his own Narnian troops gave in to celebration again. Trumpets blared and everyone began shouting: Praises for Narnia! Praise the High King! Savior of the Lone Islands!"

"Take yar place at the Tower, yar majesty," said the old man who questioned Peter earlier. "It is the rightful capital."

A procession began as the eager Lone Islanders led Peter northwards from Narrowhaven where the Tower that used to be the seat of power was located. Amidst the confusion, Peter managed to send a winged messenger to the Siren Stealth to inform Lucy that it was now safe to land.

Peter would have wanted to wait for Lucy before he proceeded to the capital, but the Lone Islanders were too excited to wait any longer. They urged him on and Peter conceded.

The old man who Peter knew by now was named Dubio, kept next to Peter and appeared excited at finally entering the Tower he had heard so many stories about as a child. Along the way, he told Peter tales of rooms filled with treasures from faraway lands.

"They say there is a big room full of writin' and pit'tures. They 'ave stories of ancient kings of Narnia and all old Emperors of the Lone Islands. And then there are the pit'tures of lands beyond the Lone Islands—"

"You know what's beyond the Lone Islands?" asked Peter excitedly.

"No, Sire. I 'aven't 'eard stories of them. But me grandfather told me there are pit'tures there in the Tower, drawn by the Sea Child 'erself."

"The who?"

"The Sea Child, Sire. They say she's a sea creature. She comes to land at the last quarter moon. She's friends with the last Emperor of the Lone Islands before you Sire. That was before bad creatures came. They traveled to the east of the Lone Islands together and made pit'tures of what they saw."

Peter kept this in mind. Lucy would absolutely love to see those maps.

The procession took only a little more than an hour before they sighted the Tower. But one look at it and Peter was immediately dismayed. He expected something as grand as Cair Paravel. What he found was a massive stone building that was already half-crumbling due to years of misuse and filth. Peter realized that hags and werewolves and the other dark creatures that occupied it didn't put much priority regarding hygiene and general sanitation of their surroundings.

They entered the building cautiously—a smart move as they encountered two remaining hags hiding behind one of the rooms. Oreius managed to dispatch them without much ado. Afterwards, there was nothing more to bother them.

Contrary to Dubio's tale, there were no fine furnishings here or precious objects. All the furniture was mostly rotted away and the few pieces of jade pottery or jeweled mirrors they discovered every now and then were in pieces. The walls were covered with moss and lined with graffiti, but there was evidence that they were once painted with bright colours, and probably showcased wonderful murals.

Peter discovered a massive room that he figured was the library. But this was almost empty of books. Scorch marks in the middle of the floor indicated that most of the books here were burned. The few ones that managed to escape the flames were torn and scattered on the floor.

Peter picked up one and half of it crumbled in his hands. The few remaining pages that remained intact were damaged beyond reading. Something fell between the pages. It was a piece of paper that didn't seem to come from the same book, as the words were written in a different script—like a letter. It was barely readable but he managed to discern a part of it at the end just before it flaked away:

... growing darkness comes. I feel that our time here is ending and perhaps we will finally return to the world we have lost. But I know there, we will find each other again.

Emeth

Peter felt stinging sadness come upon him for no apparent reason. But then he caught sight of something on the floor. It was something made of wood and he picked it up, brushing off the dust.

It was a small wooden sword—just the size of a dagger. A toy, he figured. But it was made of hard strong wood that was beautifully carved with symbols on the hilt of a lion. Surprisingly it was completely intact without a trace of rot. Strange, it seems to be the only thing that survived undamaged in over a hundred years.

He held it up to the moonlight and he found an engraving written in a crude script as if it were made by a child. It was only one word, a name: Gale.

"Sire?" Oreius said as he came through the door. "I think it's best to set up camp for the night somewhere else. It's no use staying in the Tower."

Peter nodded. "Alright, let's go back to the village." He looked around but there didn't seem to be anything else of value. He slipped the wooden sword between his belt and his trousers and followed Oreius and the rest of his troops back into town.

When he got outside the Tower however, the wooden sword slipped off and landed on the ground. Peter crouched down to pick it up.

"Go on ahead," he said to Oreius who stopped just as he did. "I'll follow." The centaur general nodded and did as told.

It was already dark with only a little moonshine for light. Peter groped around the ground for the sword. He found it with his fingers and tucked it securely at his boot where his dagger (that he lost during the battle) used to rest. He made to stand up but a sudden dizziness passed through him and he saw the trees in the distance appear to grow hazy as if they were slowly fading away. At the same time, the rest of his view appeared to be changing. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it, thinking it was just momentary queasiness due to fatigue…

There was a feel of cold steel on his neck. His hand instinctively grasped the hilt of his broadsword.

"Drop it lad, if you value your life," hissed a menacing voice.

With a speed that surprised even himself, he drew his sword completely and blindly slashed away the blade on his throat with one swift move. He felt blood splatter on his face and heard a cry of agony.

He opened his eyes and saw a strange bearded man clutching his hand—or rather his bleeding wrist because his hand was currently missing. He suddenly realized he had just cut off the man's hand!

"Take him!" the man shouted.

He realized that there were half a dozen men around him, all armed with curved swords. They attacked at the same time. He didn't think but just met all of them with his broadsword. Steel clashed against steel and he thought of nothing but keeping those scimitars from grazing any part of him.

It seemed like a long time that he fought them off until a sharp pain pierced his left leg and he fell to the ground. Another cut came at his right arm, at the same time his sword was wrenched from his grasp. In the next instant, four sword tips were pointed at his throat.

The face of the man whose hand he had cut appeared before him.

"I should kill you now," the man said fiercely. "But then that would mean I lost my hand for nothing. I'll just have to make sure I get a huge profit out of you." The man picked up something from the ground. "And I get to keep your sword and fancy armour."

The man ordered his men to strip him off his armour. They found a wooden sword on his boot and tossed it aside. They were far too interested with the other items he had on. The man caressed the breastplate. "Fine steel," said the man with a greedy look in his eyes. "Where did you get it?"

"I—" he stopped, suddenly confused for he couldn't form a reply because he honestly didn't know.

The man eyed him carefully. "Who are you?"

He shook his head.

The man pointed the tip of his scimitar at him so close it grazed his flesh on his neck. He felt blood trickle down towards his chest. "What's your name?"

His eyes moved desperately in all directions searching for an answer. His gaze finally fixed on the discarded wooden sword on the ground. It shone in the dim light and he could clearly see the letters crudely etched in it.

"Gale," he read out loud.

The man snorted as if he didn't believe him while the rest of his men sniggered. "Emperor, my ass," mocked the man. The men with him laughed harder. "Well perhaps, we shall make our acquaintance with his majesty in more convenient quarters," continued the man. He nodded to one of his companions. "Do show our guest the royal treatment."

One of the men urged him to stand. He did so reluctantly, but as he did, he felt a hard blow to the back of his head before unconsciousness mercifully took him.

A/N: I'm glad you all (well at least those that reviewed) like cliffhangers, so here's another one. I'm going to make it really difficult for the Pevensies. It's going to be rough sailing for them for maybe a dozen chapters more (I'm not sure, I haven't written them yet, though I've got some good plots running in my head).

I'm not giving away anything yet, but I'm leaving clues every now and then so you'll get them eventually. Thanks to all those who are reading and reviewing. I get inspired to write faster when you do.