Disclaimer: I am a college student, meaning I don't have money for food let alone a book and film dynasty.
a/n: You guys have NO idea how sorry I am that it's taken so long for me to post. I started college in August and it's been a really tough transition, so I hope that I'm kindofsortof forgiven.
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Chapter 6: The Quest
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Caspian's eyes opened slowly after being rudely awakened by a sudden twitch in his right leg. He was thrown off for a moment, seeing the canvas roof of a tent over his head instead of the red velvet curtains that he usually slept under, but he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his tired eyes and remembered that he was not at his uncle's fortress, but instead was in a camp among the roots of massive trees. His back ached slightly, and the leg that had twitched was being plagued by pins and needles as it woke up at a slower pace than its master.
Dawn had barely begun to light the sky as Caspian clambered out of the slapdash shelter he'd constructed late in the night, stretching and yawning before he kicked said shelter down to the dewy grass. He had slept in that wretched structure for close to three months at this point, with only Destrier for company and the occasional passerby for a clue as to a handful of possible places that the Daughter of Eve might have been. At one time. Quite a while ago. Or so a helpful farmer's sister's neighbor had been told. Maybe.
The king had begun to assume that he would be bald by the time he found this elusive Daughter of Eve, with his habits of running his hands through his hair or just plain pulling at the brown tresses when he was exasperated. And, it was needless to say, His Majesty had been exasperated since the first week of seeking this Daughter of Eve out. He tugged at the dark locks as he walked to the tree where Destrier had been tied, patting the warhorse on the nose softly.
"I do believe that this endeavor has stolen more time than previously predicted, my friend." The king murmured, and then set to picking up each of the horse's legs to check the overworked hooves for dirt or injuries. With all four hooves being in working condition, he gave the horse a genial clap on one great shoulder and turned back to his makeshift camp. It was so messily set up that Caspian was able to disassemble his rustic sleeping quarters in a matter of minutes, roughly stuffing the canvas tent back into a saddlebag and popping a few pieces of jerky in his mouth in the process. With no more ceremony than a swift kick to scatter the ashes from his cooking fire, the king had leapt into the saddle and urged the horse into an easy trot.
As the trees thinned around him, Caspian reached into a side-pouch near his hip and yanked an odd-looking scrap of cloth over his head. To a normal person, it was a hat that covered nearly the entirety of one's head. To the king, however, it was his pathetic and slightly embarrassing attempt to keep from being recognized. Nonetheless, His Majesty tucked a generous amount of dark hair into the awkward cap and sighed in stylish defeat. Besides his last-ditch-disguise cap, Caspian had left his silken (not to mention comfortable) finery at Miraz's fortress and taken a rough tunic, leather vest, and trousers that were of the most unbearable fabric that the king's skin had ever been forced to encounter.
Caspian grimaced at the thought and absently itched at his legs. This little disguise was necessary for his seemingly random escape from court; his tutor had actually suggested quite an elaborate ruse for the situation, shocking Caspian more than anything had in quite a few months. Cornelius had tugged at his beard and stared thoughtfully out the window as Caspian was being berated by his advisors with loud shouts of "You don't know what you're doing!" or "You're needed to greet So-And-So! The alliance will be ruined!" One particularly enthralled Lord had exclaimed "Pardon me, Your Highness, but this is no time for a holiday!" nearly making Caspian burst out laughing in a very undignified and taunting manner. But then Cornelius had spoken in his soft voice, suggesting that Caspian could be away from court for as long as was necessary, as long as it was not revealed that he was absent from it in the first place. The Lords threw a few more tantrums and had another handful of angry fits, but in the end, Caspian told them that they were to trust in his judgment as their rightful king, and marched out of the throne room.
So now, King Caspian X, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of The Lone Islands, was "sick" in bed with a terrible fever from a wound obtained in the Epic Battle for Narnia's Freedom, and Plain Old Caspian X was on horseback in a Narnian forest on a possibly fruitless quest.
Letting out a heavy breath, Caspian's mind quickly fell into the monotonous sway of Destrier's slow trot and his thoughts drifted to what the outcome of his questing would be. He had no idea how he would distinguish this woman from the hundreds of others that populated his land, and even when he did find her, would she be willing to cooperate with Aslan's wishes? Another disturbing thought came to his mind; could it be, perhaps, that this Daughter of Eve was to usurp him? No woman had been in power since the Golden Age of Narnia, so it almost didn't cross the king's mind, but it seemed like something Aslan would set into motion. Maybe the Daughter of Eve would prove instrumental in the defeat of the few remaining pockets of Telmarine resistance, though Caspian would probably have trouble finding enough time to train a woman in the ways of warfare. And what if he didn't find her in time? Aslan had said that she was in need of his protection, but whatever evil that was hunting her may have already reached her. What would he do then? What would he have to show for his abrupt departure from court?
The king suddenly shook himself out of his daze to focus on Destrier's path, which had veered off course in just a short period of time. With a scowl, Caspian tugged brutally on Destrier's reins to attempt to return to their earlier route. The trees had once again grown denser and older around them, and the forest was completely unfamiliar. How, exactly, had His Majesty drifted so far? Black brows furrowed in annoyance as the king attempted to identify where he was in the forest. Sunlight was scarce, except for a parting in the trees quite a while in front of him. Feeling that there were very few options at that particular juncture, Caspian urged his stallions into a canter with a swift kick to his flanks.
The going was slower than the king would have liked, since the stallion needed to go slowly to avoid being pummeled by wayward tree limbs, but the clearing ahead gradually grew closer. Things began to take form within the little circle of light, at first looking like brightly-colored blobs and then becoming dozens of horse-drawn carts and bustling people. Gypsies, the king realized, bringing Destrier to a complete stop.
Caspian scanned the trees around him for any potential threat, or any belligerent voices emanating from the colorful caravans of the gypsy camp, but heard none. Slowly, he urged the horse on towards the lively grounds, tense with the apprehension that one of them would recognize their monarch and cause a scene. He ran a hand over his saddlebags, making sure that no clever hand could make its way into his things, and then dismounted. Curious faces peered out of the shoddy tents on the outskirts of the caravan, and the king did his best to appear casual as he maneuvered between them with Destrier's reins in hand. Some of the gypsies, mostly boisterous older men, approached him without hesitation to thrust their various wares under his nose that sounded slightly, if not enormously, overpriced. A necklace for pretty girl, dried herbs for cooking, brightly-colored cloth, and dozens of other trinkets were shoved at Caspian as he passed by the gypsies' wagons.
He tried to politely decline all of the insistent merchants, but after a solid fifteen minutes of nonstop pestering, they had worn away his patience. After a few well-placed scowls, the peddlers backed off and let Caspian pass without any more interference. Destrier whinnied subtly as Caspian tugged him along, meandering through the camp without much idea of where he should be going. He attempted to ask several people if they'd heard of a Daughter of Eve that wasn't from the region, but he was unceremoniously told to move along if he wasn't going to buy their goods. Caspian came close to reprimanding the rude merchants for scoffing at their king several times but managed to move along without blowing his cover.
After a long time of walking between the wagons, Caspian grew exasperated and stopped to climb atop Destrier and get on his way again. Truly, he was disheartened; he'd hoped that one of the boisterous peasants could have directed him out of the forest, at the very least. But no, here he was, leaving behind civilization for the untamed and questionably-populated forest once again. May Aslan protect this Daughter of Eve when I finally find her, or I will most definitely throw her from the cliffs at Cair Paravel, the king said to himself as he grasped the saddle's horn to hoist himself up.
"Yer Majesty, one moit wonder why 'is 'ighness is away from 'is loverly castle. Is moy king lost in the woods this foine day?"
The hoarse and crackling voice froze the entirety of Caspian's body, and the king whorled around to find the voice's owner. He had been found out.
It was an old woman, dressed in a robe of many colors, and a long braid of snow-white hair over her shoulder. The wrinkles in her face ran deep into her dark skin, and her hand was knobbed and crooked as a dog's hind leg as it reached towards him, but her eyes were dark and intense as they surveyed him. Before her was an upturned barrel, covered in a pretty piece of silk and several sets of dice, and he realized that she was a fortune-teller, a reader of minds and of the future.
"Good woman, what would make you think that I am the king?" he said, albeit shakily.
The woman's mouth widened in a toothless grin that seemed to be kind and scrutinizing at the same time. "The dice never lie, Yer Majesty. Oi was told you moit be gibbin' me a visit."
Caspian cleared his throat, wariness beginning to creep into his mind. "And what were you supposed to do if the king actually showed his face here?"
"Oi'm to gib Yer Majesty a message 'bout a Daughter o' Eve." The woman gestured to a crate opposite her. "Yer throne, Majesty." She chuckled roughly and gathered up the dice once more.
The king swallowed and secured Destrier to the woman's caravan wagon behind him. "I have no way to pay you, milady, my money has been spent on the course of my journey. That alone should be proof to you that I hold no kingly riches."
The woman shrugged him off. "All the be'er to fit in wiff the common man, eh 'ighness? Oi need to be gibbin' you a bit o' prophecy now, Majesty, so if'n you moit sit down to 'ear it, oi'd be greatly 'bliged."
After a short bout of apprehension, Caspian finally sat down on the flimsy-looking crate. "Very well, woman, prophesy me."
The woman ran her sharp eyes over the king's face as she began to move the dice between her twisted hands. Her eyes fell to a chain about the king's neck. "Yer Majesty moit pay with tha' trinket 'bout yer neck, were oi to charge yeh."
Caspian blinked and his hand went to his neck. Long fingers tapered down a chain to the small trinket that hung from it: a tiny gold sword with a miniature crown just under the hilt. It had been a gift from High King Peter upon his departure. For luck, he had said, since it had aided him for so long in his first reign; Caspian had almost forgotten that it was around his neck.
"I am sorry, but there is no way I could part with this particular ornament." He made sure that the charm was tucked into his tunic before he folded his hands on the barrel in front of him. Abruptly, the woman grabbed one of his hands and put it palm-down on the barrel. Before he could find time to be alarmed, she had reached around to a sack behind her and drawn out a large handful of black powder. The king watched in fascination as she traced the shape of his hand with the powder and made intricate designs coming off of his fingers.
The woman's sharp eyes surveyed her set-up with seasoned awareness, her gaze flitting back and forth between the occasional twitch of Caspian's fingers to the way the black powder had fallen on the barrel's silk cover, all the while rolling the dice together between her twisted fingers. Her dark eyes closed for a moment as she murmured cryptic whisperings, and then the little dice were flying from her grip to mingle with the powdery forms.
"You 'ave been seerchin' wivout d'recshun, 'ighness. May's well been bloind." The woman said immediately. "Oi kin tell ye roight now, yer to be lookin' south."
Caspian's spirits rose. At last, a trail to follow!
The ancient dark eyes continued to run over the outcome of her ritual. "A large gatherin', oi'd reckon, somefin' akin to a market. Yer to be lookin' in the market fer somb'dy as well, looks like they've to do wif water. And yer to be hearin' of that which 'is Majesty is looking fer, from this somb'dy." Her gaze shifted to the young king across from her whose eyes were wide with interest. "Majesty should be arrivin' in three days, if Aslan should keep any sloight delays from 'is 'ighness' path."
Filled with renewed fervor, Caspian leapt from his seat and placed his hands around the nearest of hers. "A thousand blessings upon you, m'lady! Upon my return home, I shall send you anything you desire for what you have done for me. Tell me, what is your name so that I may reward you in kind?" the king asked gleefully, and the woman looked up at him with a crooked grin.
With one gnarled hand, she patted his with tenderness. "Oi'm called Jyneera, 'ighness, but oi shall be needin' no reward. We all are gibbin' a lot in loife, somefin' that makes the future possible fer our children's children and all the way after 'em. Oi think that moine was to talk to Yer 'ighness on this day, and to think that oi may 'ave made life better fer somb'dy else is enough reward fer any old woman to accept." With that, the woman gestured towards Destrier's waiting form. "Now off with ye, Majesty. You've a great deal to do."
As her words rang in his head, Caspian bowed to her and gave her a meaningful smile before he turned and leapt onto Destrier's waiting back. "Come on, my friend, we've at last got our heading!"
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Okay, the next post will be in a few days, promise!!
Love eternally, Fausta