A/N: Enter a few more characters, including Miraz and Cornelius. To get the dialogue and action from these movie scenes perfectly, I actually went through each of the scenes over and over again, taking notes on each expression, tone of voice, action, etc. Luckily, I had a movie transcript that I found online, which had all of the dialogue and some basic action. Thanks, NarniaWeb!
This is another one of my edited chapters. The scene in Miraz's castle is pretty much the same, though Flynn and Tempestra's duel is new.
Miraz's Castle
Professor Cornelius' Study
It was not a good day for Miraz. Cornelius knew that the Lord Protector was often in a bad mood, but today he seemed to be angrier than usual. And it wasn't just because Prince Caspian had escaped. At the moment, though, Miraz's anger was hidden behind a controlled visage as he sat down on Cornelius' own chair, putting his feet up on the tutor's desk where a red arrow quivered in the middle of an ancient painting of four young men and women riding on horses.
"What do you know of Queen Susan's horn?"
The Lord Protector had never asked before of the old Narnian history. If what he said was indeed true and that famous arrow had been found in one of his soldiers, and he had begun to take interest in the forbidden history…then perhaps Caspian had done the right thing. Perhaps he had summoned the very people who could help him take back the kingdom.
Cornelius lowered his glasses to look at the arrow, his face carefully blank.
"It was said to be magic," he said finally, replacing his glasses.
Miraz raised his eyebrows skeptically.
"Magic?"
"The Narnians believed that it could summon their dead kings and queens of old. At least, such was the superstition." The tutor attempted to make it sound like a fairy tale, but he knew the Lord Protector would not be fooled - especially if the fairy tale could be a threat.
Indeed, Miraz got to his feet and walked behind Cornelius, barely contained fury radiating from him in waves. The professor was reminded of a large cat circling its prey.
"And what does Caspian know of this superstition?"
More than you think, Cornelius thought, though out loud, he politely remarked, "My lord, you forbade me from mentioning the old tales."
"So I did," Miraz replied. "Yet I receive another report of a woman who has light magic and can fight like a man. What do you know about that?"
The Lady Lightning, Cornelius thought, astonished. She, too, had been summoned by the horn. If she and the kings and queens of old had appeared in Narnia, then perhaps the Narnians had a fighting chance of winning back their kingdom. Caspian would not be without allies.
The tutor looked down, hiding his expression.
"There were stories," he said slowly, "of a woman called the Lady Lightning. She was a fierce warrior and clever advisor, completely loyal to the high king of old. She was not of this world."
"Then she had best return to her own," Miraz sneered. "Meanwhile…"
At the sound of heavy footsteps, Cornelius turned to see Miraz's ally - General Glozelle - and two of his soldiers enter the study. He had always known that it would come to this, especially after Prince Caspian disappeared, but he couldn't resist a parting shot at Miraz. Turning to the Lord Protector, the tutor looked the man in the eye.
"I will say this: if Caspian does know of the deep magic, my lord would have good vision to be nervous."
Great Woods
Narnian Camp
"Block! Parry! Protect your side!"
Tempestra leapt backwards as Glenstorm's broadsword cleaved the air and struck her own upraised blade, a borrowed longsword that felt heavy in her hands. There was no respite, however; a second later and the centaur's sword swung towards her left side, which she had a habit of leaving exposed. The vigilante parried the attack, then followed through to lunge at the centaur's torso. However, he deflected the swing and made to thrust his own sword at Tempestra's right shoulder.
The two allies had made it a habit to practice swordsmanship whenever possible. Tempestra had some basic knowledge of fighting with swords and other old-fashioned weapons, but it wasn't enough for a full-out battle. Yes, she could get away with using her twin knives and lightning, but in a fight bigger than a small skirmish against one or two opponents, the vigilante was at a disadvantage. Glenstorm had noticed this and taken it upon himself to give a crash course in sword fighting to the young woman, who knew she would have to use a standard sword.
Julia's skill was steadily improving; already, after two weeks, she was able to fend off Glenstorm, one of the best fighters of the group, for ten minutes before he disarmed her. He also had her building up her forearm muscles by doing practice cuts in the air over and over again whenever she had time. After that, she practiced cuts from different angles, repeating them over and over again until her body had memorized the movement. Glenstorm had no time to teach her more than the basics of sword fighting, but he drilled her in the basics until she mastered them.
The girl almost wished that she had more time before the inevitable fight, so that she'd have more time to practice and improve. The practices had a double effect of showing the Narnians, some of whom sometimes stopped by to watch the two spar, that Julia was in no way shirking hard work and the opportunity to learn. She wasn't as good as the legends made her out to be – to the disappointment of some – but she was on her way.
An hour and many bruises later, Glenstorm finally announced that the practice was over, and the few Narnians who had been awake and watching turned away, discussing the training. Tempestra wiped the sweat from her forehead – it was early morning but she was already sweating heavily – then looked up at Glenstorm.
"I guess I'm lucky I'll never have to fight you," she commented wryly. "I'd never win."
The centaur sheathed his broadsword with one smooth movement and looked down at the girl.
"You have neither the strength nor experience," he pointed out fairly. "But if you were to use your magic, the fight would undoubtedly be different."
Tempestra rested her sword on another rock for its owner to find, then began her post-workout stretch.
"The fight would be a lot different if we were fighting unarmed," she added, swiveling her joints. When she clasped her hands in front then easily rotated her arms behind her back, Glenstorm stared. The young woman noticed his astonishment. "I'm double-jointed," she explained with a laugh, relaxing her arms again. "It allows for some…unique skills. Among others."
"How useful are those skills if you can't use a sword?" The two of them looked around to see Flynn the faun watching from a few feet away, his face set in a stubborn expression. He had been watching their practice and listening to their conversation. "That is-" he continued, at Tempestra's eyebrow raise "-battles are only won with weapons. No one will be unarmed."
"You'd be surprised," Tempestra replied coolly. The Narnians who had been watching their practice were now listening, and she could practically sense their doubt. This was it; Flynn was voicing their collective skepticism about her ability to hold her own in a fight. It seemed a display of her talents was in order. Tempestra glanced at Glenstorm, who nodded.
The young woman beckoned Flynn over, and the faun approached warily. She handed him her practice sword, then took a few steps back. Turning to the crowd of Narnians, which was growing larger as more woke up and wandered over, she showed them her silver armguards.
"These are my only weapons," Tempestra declared, indicating that she did not have her knives or her sword. "All of you know about my lightning abilities, and you know that I'm learning to fight with a sword, but what you don't know is that my first and best skill is hand-to-hand combat."
She turned to Flynn, who was watching her guardedly.
"Attack me," she ordered, her gaze sharp. "Don't hold back."
Flynn paused for a brief moment, then lunged at her with a yell.
Tempestra feinted to the side. Taking advantage of Flynn's momentum, her arm shot out and caught him under the chin. The faun landed heavily on his back, then scrambled back to his feet, clutching his sword tightly with both hands. The young woman took a few steps back, letting him recover from his disorientation. That casual move alone would incense him.
She was right. Flynn came at her again, raising the sword to chop at her skull. Before he could bring his weapon down, however, Tempestra curled her fingers and used the heel of her palm to strike upwards at his chin. The faun's head snapped back, and the young woman followed it up quickly with another palm strike to his diaphragm. Flynn dropped his sword and fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.
Tempestra waited, her hands clenched in loose fists. She didn't know faun anatomy enough to judge where his kidney was, but she would have targeted that otherwise. It would have been a lot more painful than merely getting the wind knocked out. There was a still moment as everyone waited with bated breath for Flynn to recover. When he did, it was faster than Tempestra expected.
Grabbing the sword from the ground, the faun thrust it at the young woman's torso. It was a strike that was meant to drive through her stomach and kill her painfully. Tempestra dodged neatly out of the way, grabbed Flynn's sword wrist, then twisted it to the side. He dropped it with a strangled yell, which was cut off immediately as the young woman whipped her other arm around his, and halted the blade of her hand against his throat. Had she decided not to stop, she could have crushed his windpipe and killed him.
There was a tense heartbeat as everyone froze. Tempestra's eyes were dangerously dark as they stared challengingly at the faun. For one moment, they remained motionless. Then Flynn stepped away and bowed low to the young woman; when he looked up again at her, it was with a newfound respect. As the tense atmosphere deflated, the Narnian crowd began to applaud, and Tempestra relaxed once more.
"You didn't use your magic," Flynn remarked, puzzled, as she picked up the sword and offered it to him. "You could have used it."
Tempestra just smiled.
"I don't know what the legends told you," she replied, amused, "but I don't use my lightning for everything; it's second to my combat skills. I've been learning hand-to-hand combat much longer."
"Then you must have had a skilled teacher." Glenstorm approached as the mass of Narnians began to disperse. As the centaur joined them and took the proffered sword, Tempestra smiled dryly.
"I trained with more than a few people," she admitted. "But I never learned how to use swords much. My, ah, principal teacher didn't see much use for it."
Thinking about her "principal teacher", Damien, reminded her why she was there. She'd been so busy scouting and training with the Narnians, she'd almost forgotten her real goal: to do whatever it took to find Aslan and ask him to return her to Earth. But what did this even entail? What would she have to do, exactly, to finally get home? Find the ancient kings and queens? Travel with them? Fight with them? Go to war?
A firm hand rested on the girl's shoulder, and she looked up. Glenstorm was looking solemnly at her.
"Aslan will soon return you to your world," he told her, as if reading her thoughts. "Do not despair." When Tempestra gave him a small, grateful smile, the centaur turned the practice sword over and hefted it. It looked small in his hands, especially compared to his broadsword, which was almost as big as the young woman was. "This weapon is not fitting for you," he mused, looking it over. "But perhaps another will do."
By day, the parade of Narnians trooped through the Great Woods, as they were called, in search of recruiting more Narnians. By night, they camped in the forest and posted sentries to stand watch. The best cooks in the group were responsible for making dinner, and soon everyone would be gathered around fires to eat – centaurs, fauns, dwarfs, cheetahs, badgers, and other talking animals. This was Tempestra's favorite part of the day: after the meal but before sleeping, when everyone was full and satisfied but still chatty. It was then that the Narnians told stories. They usually recounted legends about the Golden Age and the kings and queens. The badgers, who were famous for safeguarding history and stories, would narrate grand battles, glorious victories, and thrilling adventures. They spoke of honorable knights, noble kings and queens, and valiant Narnians. They used their words to illustrate the splendid castle of Cair Paravel, gracefully dancing trees, and the gorgeous royal court. They told of the Long Winter under the White Witch, the Winter Revolution and Aslan's rebirth, and the fifteen golden years. They rarely spoke of the Conquest of Narnia, though when they did, it was with bitterness and hate.
During one night, they were discussing famous battles: the Battle of the Beruna, the Battle of the White Castle, the Battle of Anvard, the Battle of Gold and Silver, and the Siege of Cair Paravel. Eventually, Tempestra asked Glenstorm to recount how his family survived the Telmarine invasion. He clearly did not wish to speak of it, but Tempestra had asked politely. Though a moment of silence passed around the group of Narnians huddled around the fire, the young woman did not take her eyes off the centaur. She would not take back what she had said.
A deep crease appeared between the leader's brows.
"It was one of the last fierce battles against the Telmarines," Glenstorm began slowly. "The invaders had created a new weapon, able to fire many arrows from a large wooden machine." Tempestra fleetingly imagined a kind of medieval wooden machine gun that spewed arrows instead of bullets. "My ancestors took flight during the battle. They lacked the honor to properly fight the enemy." The centaur bowed his head. "They were cowards."
Tempestra could see how Glenstorm would think that his ancestors were cowardly for running from battle – certainly she knew far too many heroes who would have shared Glenstorm's opinion – but as a former thief, she understood his ancestors' motivations. Upstanding morals hardly had a place in real life.
"Maybe they weren't really cowards," the young woman suggested, staring at the fire. "Maybe they were wise." When Glenstorm looked at her sideways, she continued, "Look - honor and nobleness and all of that happy idealism can't always hold up in real life – not in helplessly dangerous situations like that battle. They only work in idyllic situations and fiction." She shrugged, her eyes still on the flames. "On Earth, we have this saying: live to fight another day. And that day is now. Because your ancestors ran, now you have a chance to destroy the Telmarines and take back Narnia."
Glenstorm went silent once more, though this time his face was more pensive than doubtful. The other Narnians too had gone quiet, though the atmosphere became more comfortable. For a moment, no one said anything, until Flynn spoke up. Ever since the duel with Tempestra, he had become one of her closest allies in the group.
"Surely you must have grand battles where you come from," the faun remarked, from his position across the circle. "There are heroes there, right?"
Tempestra smiled wryly.
"We don't have battles in the same way you do," she pointed out. "And we have very different technology. It's a different way of war; asymmetric warfare is more common now." When the Narnians just stared at her uncomprehendingly, she added, "But battles in our fantasy stories are the same as in Narnia."
"Such as…?"
She sighed.
"There's a book written by an English author; it takes place in a fantasy land, kind of like Narnia. There was a small army, probably outnumbered eight to one, and everyone knew that they were going to die. So the leader of the army gave a rousing speech about facing death and fighting for the end of the world. So all the soldiers charged forward, even though they knew they couldn't win."
The young woman inwardly smiled at the fascinated looks in the Narnians' eyes. They were no stranger to bad odds, but fighting for the end of the world was probably a goal they hadn't thought of fighting for. Here, they fought for Narnia and Aslan.
"The battle cry?" Glenstorm asked quietly.
Tempestra gave a small smile.
"Death. They shouted 'death' over and over again, and they charged their enemy. And that was the most courageous part of it. They weren't afraid of death. They welcomed it." She paused, remembering the point of her speech. "But like I said, that's just a story. Yelling 'death' never won any battles."
Glenstorm nodded solemnly.
"Yes. But would I too have warriors of that courage. After fear of death, there is nothing to stand in the way of a warrior."
The centaur's reply made sense, but he seemed to miss her point. Tempestra opened her mouth to continue debating it, but gave up and closed her mouth as she realized that it was useless. Soldiers could not be completely realistic and pessimistic; they had to have some ideals. They just needed a balance of both. Courage could get warriors far, but bad odds could easily destroy them. Tempestra had never fought in a conflict with such overwhelmingly bad odds, and she wasn't planning to. She was realistic; she picked her battles well.
The next morning, Glenstorm and a few other leaders of the Narnian group, including Tempestra, were gathered in a circle in deep discussion. Shortly after the sparring practice, an unfamiliar faun and minotaur had come to the camp, claiming to be from another group of hidden Narnians. Within minutes of meeting Glenstorm, the two Narnians were meeting with the leaders of the camp, relating their information as precisely as possible.
"And you say that your numbers are greater than ours?" That was Flynn, perched on top of a boulder.
The unfamiliar faun nodded.
"More than twice your number," he explained. "We sent out scouts to look for more Narnians after the horn was heard."
"And here we are," the minotaur finished, gesturing to the large camp. "We must join forces."
"So we shall." Glenstorm had remained standing as he surveyed the two scouts. "You say that you have a base."
The faun, who seemed to be the more talkative of the two, nodded eagerly.
"Aslan's How."
A murmur of surprise rippled among the leaders of the camp, except for Tempestra, who was silent. She, like Glenstorm, was standing, though she was leaning against a tree a little farther from the rest of the group. However, she could hear just as well, though she preferred to stay out of notice.
"You have over four hundred in the How?" Another centaur asked, amazed. "Impossible."
"We have dug tunnels underground," the faun explained, smiling proudly. "Extended the networks, made room for the Narnians who have come from all around. More come every day."
"Then we shall go as well," Glenstorm decided. "It is a strong base, and a revered place."
"But who is this?"
Everyone turned to look at the minotaur scout, who had finally noticed Tempestra and was gesturing towards her with his heavy axe. Seeing this, the girl frowned slightly. Straightening, she came forward to stand next to Glenstorm, the obvious leader.
"I'm Tempestra," the young woman replied coolly. She was used to Narnians looking at her with suspicion – experience with Telmarines had tarnished their view of humans, legend or no – but she still didn't like it.
"She is the Lady Lightning of old," Glenstorm explained. "She was summoned by the horn, and has come to fight alongside us all."
"Hmph." The minotaur looked away, though the faun looked awed. Clearly, he put more faith in legends than his companion.
"Glenstorm!"
Everyone turned as Ferrah skidded to a halt in front of the group. The cheetah had been scouting as usual, but his return was unusually early.
"Ferrah. Report."
"There is a fight, General," the cheetah exclaimed excitedly. "I had but a moment to see, but there were Telmarine soldiers attacking another Telmarine, younger with less armor and weapons. They're here, in the Great Woods" Another murmur of surprise, mixed with hostility, rippled through the group. "The young Telmarine was with the badger Trufflehunter, and the black dwarf Nikabrik."
"He has kidnapped them?" Glenstorm demanded.
"No." Ferrah shook his head. "He is helping them."
Reepicheep was aghast, to say the least. Trufflehunter, one of his oldest friends, had just defended a Telmarine - of all people - right when he was about to do away with said Telmarine.
"Trufflehunter? I trust you have a very good reason for this untimely interruption."
A couple of feet away, Nikabrik supported the badger, wearing a sour expression.
"He doesn't," the black dwarf stated. "Go ahead."
Trufflehunter looked at Reepicheep meaningfully. Underneath the mouse, the Telmarine was still looking nervous.
"He's the one who blew the horn."
Reepicheep looked astonished.
"What?"
Before Trufflehunter or the Telmarine could explain, there was the sound of plodding hoofsteps, and a deep voice rang over the entire area.
"Then let him bring it forward."
A/N: Next - Caspian enters the story!