Seven
The Colormene prince had never seen Queen Jadis before. When his armed entourage met hers, he was visibly astonished. Jadis was over seven feet tall, her figure deceptively slender, but with a veiled strength. Her face was well-defined with high cheekbones and long-lashed blue-grey eyes. Her lips carried a regal curvature. The queen's hair was a lustrous, shining ebony, flowing free over her shoulders and upturning slightly at the ends. Her fingers were long and pale, beautifully shaped.
The prince bowed deferentially, shaking, and came up again anxiously licking his lips. She was clearly the loveliest woman he had ever seen.
Jadis stared patronizingly. "Prince Azerion."
"I meet you on behalf of my father, the Tisroc (May he live forever). You…you are as beautiful as a goddess."
"Do not waste my time with flattery."
"Oh, Your Highness, I sincerely meant it."
One look at his shocked face at being taken for a flatterer was enough for Jadis. "Sincere or no, I do not believe I called this assembly to receive your approval on my looks."
Prince Azerion's eyes went down to the snow.
"Now," continued the queen, "why I did call this assembly. You see, we have two fugitives on the run from justice, a renegade centaur and a small human child — a girl. I have reason to believe that they will enter your father's realm eventually (if they have not already), and so escape oversea. This must be prevented at all costs. Do you understand?"
"Ah…your majesty. If I may?"
"What?" Jadis wanted him to know he was being indulged. Only tolerated.
"A little girl? How could she have fallen foul of you at her age?" The prince knew it was a mistake to ask the moment the words left his mouth.
The queen drew herself up, giving him the full of her piercing eyes. This again sent the prince's gaze to the ground.
"That is none of your concern, insolent prince," Jadis said icily. "Suffice it to say that when she has entered Colormen, if she and her protector are not brought to me in chains before a fortnight has passed, it will bode very ill for you and your people."
The prince swallowed, visibly shaken, and turned to one of his higher ranking soldiers. They conversed a moment in hushed tones. The guard seemed rather upset. Finally the prince turned back to Jadis, whose eyes betrayed that she had taken the wait very badly. "Permit me one more question, milady." The queen tacitly gave her begrudged consent. "The Archenlandish seaports. Might they attempt to escape by them before fleeing to Colormen's?" The prince again saw his mistake too late.
"The Archenlandish ports? Do you dare to think me such an idiot as to neglect something that obvious? They have already been razed! Every ship anchored is now at the bottom of the sea. Without bothering to declare war I have subdued a nation, however small it was. It was very easy, prince, so very easy. They brought everything they had against me and it crumbled within a day. The same will happen to your land should you disregard my orders."
A chill ran down Prince Azerion's spine. He felt a brief inclination to fall to his knees before the queen and beg for mercy, while at the same time an urge to draw a sword and scream, "How dare you!" Neither seemed fitting at the moment, so he withheld. After a long silence, he finally met eyes with the queen and said, "To hear is to obey, Highness. Colormen will do what it can."
"So be it. And let the consequences of your failure serve as your incentive. Now go." Jadis did not move until the prince and his entourage had remounted and were well out of sight, racing madly back over the border, richly colored banners snapping wildly in the wind. For while the prince had never been a man of much courage, being threatened like that had struck a chord. While he agreed to her face, he wasn't certain that they could find these renegade Narnians. And if they could not…well, they had to be prepared. One thing was for sure — they wouldn't go down without a fight.
"Orieus!" called a voice loudly over the wind. "Orieus, hold! We mean you no harm."
Orieus did not slow. He knew he could trust no one, not even a fellow centaur.
The thundering of heavy centaur hoofbeats shook the ground and sent snow flying far behind in the asperity of the wind. Orieus ascended the roughly hewn, slushy trail up to the crest of a hillock. When he had reached it, he did not slow. He didn't have time. Taking a sharp left, he careered over the side and down the path through the trees. Lucy held tight as the centaur gathered all his strength and leapt across a broad stream in the valley and headed straight up the side of the next hill. It wasn't long before the snow on the ground had thinned. Orieus' hooves struck mud and sent great chunks flying out behind. The relentless, trailing hoofbeats at times neared and at times faded. The muck was terrible for gaining footing, and many a time, Orieus slipped and just barely found his balance. Finally, they reached the summit of the path leading up the side of the pass, which wound around the side of the rugged cliffs on the left, treacherous and narrow. Lucy gaped in fear, but Orieus only paused a moment before galloping onwards… Water from melting snow trickled down the side of the ledge in various rivulets, collecting in the basin below. Orieus reached the bottom, cleared the stream, and shot on up towards the stony trail, his flanks covered in foam from his exertion.
Lucy looked back. The pursuing centaurs had reached the crest of the hill behind and, marking them, quickly plunged over down towards the stream. Gaining her first good look at them, Lucy noticed that they were all similarly dressed to Orieus and bore weapons of like make. "They're gaining," she whispered. She wasn't sure whether she was talking to Orieus or herself.
The steep acclivity of the cliff-side path hindered all concerned parties. Orieus was going all out, severely taxing his endurance and will. His breathing was ragged and quick; his sides heaved. His hooves gripped best they could the falling stones of the trail, and with each laborious leap up the side, a shower of pebbles rained down behind.
Lucy didn't have time to comprehend all this. All she knew was that she was in danger and that she was afraid. All she knew was that she must hold on with all she had.
Finally, the trail wound around to the right and leveled off some. Orieus picked up speed and leaned slightly towards the cliff wall, lest in losing his balance while running heedlessly, they both plunge to their dooms.
Lucy now saw the first signs of green she had seen in what seemed like forever. An early spring green, of tentative grass and slowly unfurling leaves, but far, far below them and shrouded in mist.
The centaur ate up ground in the relative ease of the present trail. The elevation finally increased again, and Orieus struggled for extra momentum that would aid in this next path's challenge. When they reached level ground again (and far sooner this time), Lucy saw to her horror that the trail ahead had been completely washed out. An enormous mud rift scarred the mountainside, evidence of a recent landslide's fury. A few second's gallop ahead, the path was gone, plunging down hundreds of feet to whatever chasm waited below. The trail resumed twenty feet on, none the worse. Orieus slowed, clearly dismayed. The spring meltdown would be their undoing.
"Alright," Orieus panted, completely breathless. He spoke very quickly. "We're going to try something. Hold on—."
"You're going to—?"
"We have no choice!" Orieus bolted towards the gap, faster than before. Lucy leaned in and clung to his midriff, trembling in terror. The second they reached the edge, Orieus propelled himself off with all four legs. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. For what seemed the longest time, they were flying forward and the air was rushing past. Next thing she knew, Lucy felt a sharp jolt. She forced her eyes open. They had made it, but barely. With an audible sigh of relief, she turned to look behind. The other Centaurs were racing single-file along the ledge, towards the gap. They had seen Orieus' leap, but were uncertain of whether they should try it themselves. The nearest of them, a muscular bay bearing a long sword in a sheath at his side, called out loudly: "Orieus, by Aslan, we mean you no harm. Come and at least let us speak!"
Orieus thought a moment, then finally slowed. None of them were archers, and if the bay (Orieus knew him as "Naron") tried anything, he could turn and run before anything became of it. He carefully brought himself about and trotted to the edge.
"What have you to say then, Naron?" questioned Orieus guardedly. Lucy shifted, trying to see around her guardian's body.
Naron panted, out of breath. "We are not trying to harm you…or the queen. Yes, we were originally sent by the White Witch to track you down, but we never intended to follow her orders. We instead used them as an excuse to find and protect you. Let our wounds speak for us. Ridren here had the worst of it: bitten by Maugrim in his final throes."
"Maugrim is dead?!" Orieus asked in disbelief. "You killed him?"
"And his wolves," added Naron.
"Hmm…," mused Orieus. "If that is true… Swear that this is true in Aslan's name."
"I swear by Aslan," said Naron, "that all I've said is true and that we are here for no other reason than to be of assistance in the queen's escape."
"Very well," said Orieus, relieved. "But now how do you intend to cross over?"
"If you'll wait, we will retrace our steps and proceed down to the lower trail. It will be longer, but we will hurry best we can. Meet us at the crossroads."
"Agreed," said Orieus. "And…thank-you."
