Chapter Sixteen: Aslan's How
(Corin)
That Dwarf is going down.
Lucy draws one of her swords and faces the Dwarf. He is the first to strike, aiming for her face. Why the heck did he want to rough up her face?
Lucy, however is too quick and blocks his strike. The two dance around for a few moments—Lucy clearly toying with him, even if he is a formidable swordsman—before she whirls into a series of rapid strikes. In no time her sword is pointed at Trumpkin's throat and his—Peter's actually—lies in the sand several feet away.
"Beards and bedsteads!" he gasps. Lucy just smiles mischievously, sheathing her sword before walking over and kissing me.
"Maybe that horn worked after all." Trumpkin mutters.
"What horn?" asks Susan. He stares at her for a moment.
"Yours, your majesty."
Susan's face lit up. "Oh, Hune…."
Peter, Edmund, and I end up taking turns rowing the soldier's boat up the Glasswater River, as Trumpkin directed us on where to go. Apparently the Stone Table where Aslan was killed and rose again had a bunker of sorts built over it, as a sort of sanctuary and tomb.
"Why is it so still? The trees…they aren't moving at all." Lucy comments. Trumpkin gives her a funny look.
"They've been like that since you lot left. The Telmarines invaded and the woods went silent to protect themselves."
Lucy looks saddened by this and says no more.
Eventually we haul the boat onto a gravelly little beach. Susan spots something furry moving around on the opposite side of the beach and moves towards it, while Lucy sits down with her head between her knees, face rather green. As we finish beaching the boat, I hurry over to Lucy and rub her back.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
Lucy breathes in deeply. "I think I have over thirteen hundred years of morning sickness to make up for." She chokes, claps a hand to her mouth, and vomits at the edge of the water. I glance back at Peter, Edmund, and the Dwarf. They all look rather green. As Lucy finishes, I look over to Susan. She's farther up the beach, still headed to the animal.
"Hello there!" she calls. Now I can see it's a bear, rising up on its hind legs to look at us. Trumpkin stiffens.
"Don't move, your majesty!' he yells. Susan whirls to face us. Then she looks back. The bear is rushing towards her, with no sign of intelligence in its furry face.
She turns and begins to run. Trumpkin draws his small bow and notches an arrow. Then he hesitates, looking to see if the bear can talk or anything.
Susan trips and rolls over, screaming as the bear looms over her.
"Shoot, Trumpkin, shoot!" Peter yells.
An arrow whistles past us and the bear falls, but it's not Trumpkin's.
It's Lucy's. She drops her bow and glares at Trumpkin. Peter and Edmund rush to get Susan while I move to support Lucy.
"Next time a bear rushes my sister, don't just stand there! Shoot it!" she snaps.
And then promptly turns green again and vomits in the water. Trumpkin grimaces and slices off a few pieces of bear meat.
And we continue on.
We camp that night in a little clearing, around a small fire Edmund coaxes out of a few damp sticks. I hold Lucy close, the night is chilly and I don't want her to be cold, even though we're under her thick cloak Mrs. Beaver made Lucy as a wedding gift. It turns out I don't need to worry. Aslan's blessing on Lucy is as strong as ever and once she lies down, flowers and grass cover her and me in a thick woven mat, just like a blanket.
I wake at dawn to a snap of a twig. Lucy is no longer in my arms. I sit up and look warily around. The fire is down to coals and ashes. Lucy is just disappearing into the forest. I slip up and after securing my swords to my waist, follow her. She is walking in between a lane of flowering trees, laughing with a dryad.
As she does, I sprint to catch up.
"Lucy!" I wheeze when I get there (I'm not a morning person at all.) She turns and smiles at me.
"Good morn, Corin! This is Phoebe." She says, gesturing towards the dryad.
I make a courtly bow.
"Excuse my manners, Lady Phoebe. Good morn to you." I say politely.
The dryad nods and turns to look down the lane before gesturing to us, trying to say that we need to continue walking.
"Goodbye, Lady Phoebe!" We call, walking on. A few more feet down the lane, Lucy and I stop short. A beautiful smile illuminates her face. There's a wide smile on my own, I'm sure.
"Aslan!" Lucy exclaims. She rushes forward and hugs the Great Lion. I follow quickly.
I can't stop myself from asking. "Why didn't you come and save the Narnians while we were gone?"
Aslan sighs sadly. "Things…never happen the same way twice, dear ones."
Snap. I jolt awake, back at the campsite with Lucy cuddled beside me. She rolls over and looks at me. I nod. As one we slip into the woods and walk to where Aslan was. Lucy seems to glow after being near Aslan. We pause near Lady Phoebe's tree. Lucy rests a hand on her trunk.
"Wake up. Please." She whispers. The branches stir a bit, but nothing else happens. Only Aslan can wake them, it seems. We continue on, sadder. As I pass a large holly bush, Lucy right behind me, she suddenly claps a hand over my mouth and draws me back.
"Minotaur. Get him. I'll be lookout." She breathes in my ear. I nod, drawing one of my swords soundlessly, and creep out of the bush towards the Minotaur. A bird's whistle sounds, a code Lucy and I developed while tracking rogue Dark Creatures, and I whirl. A dark-haired young man with olive skin is advancing upon me, sword drawn. He slams into my sword with a yell of rage and we begin to fight. I disarm him quickly and swing at his head, but he ducks, causing my sword to stick in a tree. He kicks my side, sending me sprawling before turning and tugging at my sword, trying to free it from the tree. I dive for his sword just as he frees mine.
"Corin!" Lucy shrieks. Half-a-dozen daggers are suddenly pinning the other man's billowy sleeve into the tree. She comes barreling into me, squeezes all of the air out of my lungs in a hug, and then turns, drawing both of her swords while I draw my remaining one. We are back to back, ready for attack from any of the Animals surrounding us when the dark-haired man asks,
"Who are you?"
"Lucy! Corin!" Peter shouts as he, Edmund, Susan, and Trumpkin fly into the clearing. The man looks down at the sword, then at Lucy, before turning to our siblings.
"You're the Kings and Queens of old?" he looks impressed. If we were our English ages I'm sure he wouldn't be.
"Yes. And you are?" Lucy asks frostily.
"Caspian, my lady. I'm glad you're all here. We need help."
Lucy smirks. "I suppose before anything else, you'll be wanting those knives out of your shirt?"
Caspian nods. Lucy first takes my sword and hands it to me, before pulling the daggers out easily.
"How did you do that? I couldn't pull them out." Caspian asks.
"That's my secret, Prince Caspian." She replies. He stares her down, an odd look in his eyes. She just stares defiantly back, daring him to question her further.
We make introductions quickly and head to Aslan's How. I don't like the way Caspian is looking at Lucy and by the look of it, neither do the rest of us. Lucy keeps a hand on a dagger anytime he comes near her.
At the entrance to Aslan's How, the path is lined by centaurs, swords raised in a salute. Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and I look to Peter and nod. He begins to walk down the path, with two of us on either side, flanking him. Lucy smiles at a young foal of a centaur, barely able to hold his sword above her head. His father lifts his arms with one strong hand, the other holding his own sword aloft.
Caspian trails behind us, a lost puppy of a prince. I wince at the thought of him being on Narnia's throne.
Upon entering the How, Lucy trails a hand over a picture of Mr. Tumnus under the lamppost. A single tear runs down her cheek.
"Mr. Tumnus, Orieus, the Beavers…they're all gone." She whispers. I hug her and kiss the side of her head.
"It'll be okay, Lu. They're with Aslan."
She nods and we continue to the Stone Table. Upon entering the great room where it lies, Lucy walks slowly over to it, and lays a hand on the once-rough granite, worn smooth from centuries of existence.
"He must know what he's doing." She says, loud enough for us all to hear. I'm about to agree, and I can see Peter and Edmund nodding, when Susan says loudly.
"I think it's up to us now."
We all turn and stare at her incredulously before straightening and putting on the "Regal act" as Edmund calls it, when the war council enters.
It's time to win back Narnia.
A.N. Hey y'all! Sorry about the wait, I had computer issues. I will have another chapter up by Christmas—my present to you all! Enjoy this one first, though.