Aslan in the Wood Between Worlds

A/N A quick word of acknowledgement to my reviewers, your feedback and support is much appreciated. Grateful thanks also very much due to everybody who has clicked through thus far. There are 8 chapters planned for this story, all are at least at first draft, so am aiming to update ever 7-10 days or so.

The stillness seemed to be hovering, hanging taut in the air, waiting for an action to shatter it. Imagine if you will, stepping into the grand gallery of a famous museum, at a time when it is closed to visitors; or observing from a station platform the empty seats of a brightly lit railway carriage, about to pull away as the final departure of a wintery night. I suspect you would probably half dream, half feel the people who had been in those spaces before. The feeling was what Inyang assumed mortals called eerie. There was a sense of something lacking, and of the landscape stoically anticipating it to be fulfilled again. And yet as Inyang well knew, some events still had to happen in this place. Rain must fall to nourish the trees and presumably keep those pools toped up. Wind must pull old leaves from the mesh of branches above him. Gravity drop the overripe fruit from bushes onto the soil and… Something scuttled over the Angel's bare foot. Thick, soft hair brushed his ankle and a he felt the pressure of a fleshly pad together with its accompanying claws gouging into him. A few seconds later there was a second occurrence, and this time Inyang was able to watch the swaying rear of a guinea pig rush headlong into the undergrowth in pursuit of its mate.

Inyang moved through the thicket until he came to the edge of a wide knoll, with pools of glistening water scattered across its shallow concave surface. There, in the dried out hollow of what had once been a portal to Narnia, stood Aslan, proud, powerful, but also humble.

"You must come no nearer," Aslan called.

"Indeed."

"Like Kings upon a chess board it is dictated that we two should not touch."

Inyang bowed his head and sheathed his wings, "There is only one King present, Sire," he said, "I am but a messenger and facilitator."

"Then let us discover how suited to your calling you really are. You may begin"

When Inyang finished speaking Aslan rolled his head and pawed at the ground. "What makes my Father, The Emperor, so sure of this impending catastrophe that he sent you too me?"

Inyang had prepared himself for the question. "There are little tells my Lord; you may well have seen them yourself. In the Narnian case I should imagine there will be small piles of snow where none was before, maybe you sometimes come across a bare rock face that was previously capped in white. That sort of thing. But most of all, there will be a feeling in undercurrent. A change so small and slow that even your Kings and Queens would not have known it creep upon them. But once recognised it cannot be ignored. As the Master of Your Country, it ought to be possible for you to detect the tiniest of gaps in the fabric around you."

With a small growl in his voice Aslan replied, "I cannot deny."

"May I take it that you will assist, and allow those summoned directly into Your Country a passage back?"

"I must always accede to my Father, but I fear the events that led to this rift are so deep and entwined within the history of Narnia that they cannot be undone."

"I understand your concern," replied Inyang.

"The children of Earth were vital in preparing our final outcome, and I rewarded them for the price they paid. That sacrifice is forged into the very ground."

"Quite so," Inyang's appointed task was to make bargain with, as much as convince the Lion; and despite the current imperative, this process was still distasteful for him. "Actions that occurred within Narnia itself must remain within Narnia," he said, "to tamper with that reality would cause greater instability, even if one desired such a change."

"My heroes knew the risks, which is why they fought so bravely. We should always honour the commitment of Eustace and Jill. But now must we move on, and discuss the others."

That was all The Lion would say. Throughout their history, Inyang mused, humans had often thought themselves as subservient play things to their perceived Gods, sometimes with good reason. And yet it was the spark of individual thought, the spirit that made these mortals what they were, that was in reality so prized by their forces of Creation. That same trait also happened to be what fascinated Inyang most about Earthlings. The unpredictability and shear variety of humankind. A species that had rationalised its very existence through stories; and had come to rejoice in and fear those stories themselves, as much as in the power behind them. With the fate of two Earthlings decided, the debate with Aslan had now basically come down to a trade off, and Iynan remained grateful his own duties were rarely this stark.

"You appreciate the situation perfectly Sire," he said quickly, "the catalyst of using the force of the train crash as a bridge, propelling free-willed Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve to your Country, by which I mean your Kingdom, not Old Narnia, is the root of our current uncertainty. But if they were to return to their own time, using that very same rift, then we believe it will start to close itself."

"Meaning my beloved ones must instead choose themselves to return into my country."

The Angel's turned his head away from the intense, unblinking face of Aslan, and focused upon an odd shaped rock standing close by the pool that he knew linked the wood to Earth. A marker placed there over a century of Earth time before; and still yet unmoved.

"It may not be quite that simple Sire," he said carefully. "To fully close down the unwanted energy ripples, we now believe we should ensure the Earth crash does not actually occur, at least not in the way that it did."

Aslan roared. Leaves fell all around him, while some even dropped onto Inyang, from where they hissed out of existence. The Angel was rocked, but quite literally managed to stand his ground. "My Father," cried Aslan, "The Emperor Over The Sea, cannot and would not try to stop such a force, it would be an abomination of law, magic and the land."

"Stop the force no," Inyang parried, "But alter, dissipate, delay the full impact; that is certainly within his power."

Aslan paced around the perimeter of the extinct pool, wiry muscles coiled. "What you say about human choice is undoubtedly correct," Inyang went on, "It is the very thing your Father allowed to blossom within them. An inner strength that meant those young people were able to fulfil the prophecy and so defeat Jadis. This is the power they can still bring into your eternal Kingdom, just as long as it is done by their own will."

"Then while they complete their stories on Earth, I must wait and trust."

"Mortal time is of little consequence to us. Besides, should not a great General have faith in his soldiers, just as deeply as they do in him? Whatever else may transpire, there is one at least who has already shown you true loyalty."

"Yes, she will never fall from me, of that I am certain. But what I ask you, becomes of those mortals in your protection? Those who journeyed to another part of my Father's kingdom, because of the train accident."

"A mere bagatelle," the relief of having got this far made Inyang exaggerate so convincingly, that he almost believed it himself. "We have whole teams on our side who specialize in repairing this sort of thing. Mortals are always returning to Earth with tales of near death experiences, long tunnels, bright lights, great wooden doors… Some of them are even true."

"You speak so lightly."

"There will be eddies of course, perhaps some of these may even turn out to be for the better, but the impact is nothing like our current worry. Within its own bubble you see, Earth history is pretty elastic, not that you even had the stuff in Narnia." He was prattling now, with relief, anything to cut the tension and unnerving weight of debate with The Great Lion of Narnia.

"I understand, but if we agree to take the course of action proposed, it seems to me you cannot guarantee that The High King of Narnia will be at my side when the moment comes to close the final door."

"No, my Lord," Inyang bowed again, "but did you not pronounce Frank as the first ever King of Narnia? Maybe a first can also be the last."