I was a few days into my journey now, and me and Typhon had quickly became accustomed to living rough. We rode slowly through the countryside, admiring Narnia in the height of summer. Every so often, we came across small villages, which would welcome us heartily and give us hospitality and the provisions that we needed. I felt honoured with the friendly kindnesses that seemed to come so easily to these salt-of-the-earth rustics.
However – I knew this happy, relaxed manner of living would soon become hard and dangerous. Indeed, as we ventured further north, the nights got colder and colder, and the villages far in between and unfriendly. I had to hunt for myself, whilst trying to make my provisions last. Poor Typhon had to forage for grass on the barren moors.
As I set up camp every night I began to wonder if coming north really had been a good idea. It wasn't the beautiful moors I had imagined; even in summer, they emitted an uncharitable, harsh look. I dreaded to think what they would be like in winter.
I began to fantasize about the warm south, or the populated west. I remembered the bright blue cornflowers swaying in the balmy breezes, the golden fields of hay. I thought of Narnia in the fruitful bounty of summer and I missed it.
Instead of doing the sensible thing and returning to the welcoming south, I persevered in my adventure north. I had come this far, I might as well carry on. At least until it gets really bad, I thought. I mean, I had defeated far worse enemies than geography and climate.
After a while of very slowly making my way north, I realised the already steep landscape was becoming immensely difficult to traverse. Sparse thickets of wind-beaten gorse dotted across the weathered, precipitous moor; in the midday (when the fog that accompanied the dawn had burnt off) I could see mountains in the near horizon.
Finally, finally, I was reaching the Far North.
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Lucy sighed. "Edmund, I really miss Peter."
She threw herself theatrically onto a chaise lounge, her face turned to the ceiling.
Edmund, looking out of the window to the west, leaned on the window sill and silently agreed. He had had no idea that Peter had it in him to run away from home so dramatically.
And in the back of his mind, he had a niggling idea that it was his fault that Peter had left.
"Yes, Luce, so do I." He replied.
"And I can't believe he put me in charge!" - Here Lucy sat up and stared at Edmund – "I don't even know what I'm doing! Susan's hardly helping, because she doesn't want to "usurp the crown" as she put it – you're still recovering, so I'm probably not even allowed to be talking to you about this – and all the fat old men keep trying to advise me in patronising manners!" Lucy crossed her arms and pouted.
Edmund chuckled at her. He found her rants amusingly sweet.
"You'll have to become accustomed, Luce. There's nothing we can do but try and help you."
"But...it's so boring!" She exclaimed. "And half the time nobody even tells me what's happening."
Edmund turned to face her and crossed his arms passively. "Then take charge. Make them tell you what's happening. You're the one Pete left in charge, so take the authority."
Lucy, lying down again, turned her head to face him.
"You think so?" she asked.
Edmund nodded. "That's what I'd do. Prove myself to them; show them that I am fit to rule the country."
Lucy grinned at her older brother. He had told her what she needed to hear, and now she leapt up and enfolded him in a massive bear hug.
"Thank you, Ed!" she exclaimed.
Edmund laughed and hugged his sister back.
"Anything, Luce. Anything at all. Now, I reckon it's late enough. There will be plenty of time in the morning to discuss everything properly."
"Alright, Ed. See you in the morning." Her skirts dancing around her, Queen Lucy left Edmund's chamber for her own.
Edmund turned back to the balcony. It seemed to be getting colder. Freezing, in fact.
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"Susan." A rich, velvet voice danced around her. It seemed familiar; in a vague fashion, she recognised it, although slowly, it seemed like a glass veil was being drawn over her consciousness and what was actually happening. She had a foreboding sense of déjà vu.
"Susan..." Again, the voice came. She whirled around, desperate to find the source of the noise. Recognition flooded back to her faintly – it had something to do with their coronation...
"Susan, Queen of Narnia, look at me."
Hang on – was that...?
"Aslan?"
Susan stood, totally confused, freezing cold and waited for the Lion to reassure her that she wasn't completely delusional.
"Yes, child. It is me. I am here, to help you."
"Help me, Aslan?" Susan turned and came face-to-face with the Lion's golden eyes. "What do I need help with? Is something wrong?"
Aslan gave a short laugh (is that possible with cats?) as if laughing at her naivety. "Susan – have you forgotten our agreement?"
For the second time, Susan was wholly bewildered. What was Aslan on about?
Then, an insidious trickle of ice-cold realisation wound through her heart. They had spoken lately, hadn't they? Now, what had they been talking about...?
Ah. Yes, that.
"Peter." She whispered.
"Yes." Aslan started to prowl around her, circling her. He looked faintly uneasy, as if he couldn't bear to be there. "What else?"
"Our plan."
The words were just there. She didn't think them, didn't mean to say them – but she had to. Parts of half-remembered conversation floated through Susan's mind, conversations she remembered having; but ones she didn't outright recall. They had a glassy, shiny quality to them; as if they weren't real, almost. But they had to be, didn't they? They couldn't've just appeared from the depths of her imagination, surely.
"Yes, child – now explain the plan to me again."
Our plan...
"Using my power as a monarch, I will use my power to bring Peter back to you." Yes, there it was. She could remember practically all of their previous conversation now (it was trickling back as slowly as treacle, but still, at least it was there) and none of it made sense. But...that didn't matter. Aslan asked her to do it, so she did it. There was no questioning it. The consequences didn't matter.
Susan's head was swimming. She couldn't move her limbs. She felt numb from the inside out.
"Good." Aslan's voice turned cold. "Now go back. You have proved yourself useful this far by sending out search parties. You will be rewarded." With that – he vanished, leaving Susan in a fog of confusion and obedience.
She twisted around and trudged back to her chambers. She slept, knowing nothing of what just happened.
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There you go! An update at last.
I'm sorry for not updating, but I have to revise for my dreaded Maths GCSE. Wish me luck :S
Question: Can any of my reviewers draw? PM if you can.
~pearlsofweird ;D 3