Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Oreius also does not belong to me. I do, however, wish I could play in Narnia.
Chapter Fourteen
Nine days earlier . . .
"Help us. Please, help us. Please, Aslan, just let Peter come for us. I can't bear–"
Susan froze when the makeshift curtain over the cave where she was being kept was swept aside. Then, forcing away the dread and revulsion she felt, she put on a coy smile and turned.
"My King."
Zeier lifted her out of her curtsy and pressed a sloppy kiss to the back of her hand.
"My Queen."
He pulled her roughly against him, that too familiar gleam in his eyes, and she touched two fingers to his lips, shuddering inwardly to feel his hot breath on her flesh. Gentle, Aslan had told her that first day she was brought here, when she had begged Him for help, when she was ready to trade her life for her honor. Gentle, He had whispered, and she knew she had surprised this conscienceless brute by treating him with courtesy, by feigning admiration and even desire.
"Patience, My King," she told him now and not for the first time. "Until matters are settled with the High King and I am yours lawfully. When your Queen gives your kingdom an heir, you would not want anyone questioning the legitimacy of his birth."
He seized her hand, crushing it until she thought she would have to cry out. Then he released her and traced one calloused thumb along the line of her jaw.
"Fair and wise, I see." He traced that thumb along the side of her neck and then his hand was suddenly at her throat, squeezing just the slightest bit. "Wise enough, I hope, to know it would be fatal, to you and to your brother, if you even consider deceiving me."
She slid his hand up until she could press her lips to his palm, holding it there, holding him there with smoldering eyes. Then she released his hand, again letting that coy smile play over her lips.
"I have told you before, My King. I am weary of forever being sheltered and watched over as though I were made of cut glass. My brothers think I am no more than a little wax doll without a thought in its head. They hardly let me out of their sight. I am called Queen, but I have no power to do anything but sit at my sewing and ornament their great occasions of state. I would be a true Queen, and I would have a true King. A man.." She touched her fingers again to his lips. "My brothers are only boys. They think I should be forever a child." Again she smiled. "I am a woman."
"Yes," he breathed, siding his hands from her shoulders to her arms. "Yes, you are."
"But when they see I have chosen a King for myself, a man strong enough to rule the West of Narnia, when they give us this land as our own and they themselves bow before you, who could deny your right?" She smiled a little more boldly. "Who could deny you anything?"
He nodded, his teeth white and wolfish in his dark face as his hold on her tightened. "And then the Jewel of Narnia shall be forever mine."
She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Soon, My King. Soon. Perhaps we should speak to my younger brother about it now?"
She watched his eyes. She had made casual mention of talking to Edmund before now, but she had not been allowed to see him since they were taken five days ago. As always, Zeier merely sneered.
"Do not worry, My Queen. He is being shown the best of Calormene hospitality. And, when your elder brother comes, we will show him the like."
Susan kept the smile fixed on her face. She had walked a knife edge these past five days, convincing Zeier that she cared nothing for her brothers or for her sheltered life at Cair Paravel. She could not let him see her longing for them now. Oh, Edmund, what are they doing to you? Peter, where are you?
She shrugged carelessly. "They both weary me. Tell my younger brother what we wish to have and then send him back to Cair Paravel. He will serve well enough as messenger boy to the High King."
"In good time, My Queen. When we have reached our castle and made it fit for royalty." He cupped her cheek in one hand, eyes again aflame. "Fit for my bride."
He leaned forward, pulling her tightly against him, and she discretely turned her face away.
"Not yet, My King. But soon." Once more, she smiled that coy little smile. "Very soon."
He held her there for a moment more and then, with a shudder, released her. Then he laughed.
"Soon, My Queen."
With a curt, ungainly bow, he left her, and she sank down onto the pile of blankets that was her bed, her head in her hands. Oh, Aslan, please. Please–
"His bride!"
Susan looked up and then drew back, staring at the woman who stood in the cave opening. Azar. She was still wearing Susan's dress and some of her jewelry. She was still wearing that dangerous, glittering smile that Susan had never seen her without.
"Bride," Azar repeated, circling Susan now, her wicked curved blade drawn. "Bride and Queen. After all the time I've been with him, after all I've done for him, he would never give me either title. I have a Queen's fine clothes. I have a Queen's rich jewels." She displayed her hand, taunting her captive with the delicate wreath of daffodils and mountain ash leaves that encircled her finger. "Even this to mark me as a Queen. But I see now that you've bewitched him with your false tongue. I know a remedy for that, but do not worry. Our men are not so particular. You will please them well enough with or without one."
She laughed softly, still circling. Then she seized Susan by the throat, pressing the razor-edged blade flat to her cheek. Susan's heart pounded wildly, beating like the wings of a frantic bird suddenly snared, not daring to struggle, not daring to breathe.
"Aslan," she whimpered, and the fingers on her throat tightened.
"Your demon Lion can do nothing to save you now. You are in my power, not His, and I have not the tiniest shred of mercy."
"Aslan," Susan repeated, forcing herself not to flinch.
Azar squeezed harder. "Silence or you will not live long enough to be thrown to the men."
Susan shut her eyes, knowing she would very likely never open them again, and then she set her jaw. She knew who held her in His paws.
"Aslan!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs.
She heard Azar's curse and braced herself for the final blow. Instead she heard another curse, a deep-voiced Calormene curse, and Azar was dragged away from her, shrieking as Zeier struck her again and again across the face.
Susan shrank into the corner as the woman lunged at him, cursing in return.
"I will kill you, Zeier! I will cut your throat and dance barefoot in your warm blood!"
He grabbed her by the hair with his right hand and by the wrist with his left. There was a sickening snap as he wrenched the blade from her grasp and threw her to the ground.
"Pig!" she howled.
He slashed her once across the face and then twice more and then dragged her from the room by her long dark hair. Her screams rang through the cave until they were drowned out by the cheers and catcalls of the men.
Susan pressed her hands against her ears, trying to blot out the horrible, bestial sounds coming from beyond the curtain, but then they changed. This was not bloodsport but battle.
She leapt to her feet, but before she could do more than wonder what to do, the curtain was again shoved aside and Zeier rushed in followed by several of his men, bloodied and sweating in the torchlight. Saying nothing, Zeier merely grabbed her arm and hurried her into a tunnel that was barely tall enough for them to stand in. It twisted and turned, dank and close, seeming to narrow more and more as they moved on. Oh, Aslan, where are we going?
She did not know how long they had scurried along before Zeier called a halt. He shoved her against the wall and then stood in front of her, his broad back blocking her sight and her escape.
"Light it," he growled.
A moment later there was a burning hiss and then an explosion. The tunnel behind them fell in on itself. There was no going back.
OOOOO
Susan paced in the wide, vaulted chamber, empty but for the pile of blankets in one corner. A bedchamber, perhaps once the White Witch's own. Our bedchamber, Zeier said.
It had been nine days since they left the cave. He would not wait any longer. His men were securing the castle, already repairing the breech in the wall and filling the storerooms with plunder. Other troops, men and Beasts, all of them Fell, were coming to follow him, drawn by his promise of bounty and pleasure. No matter how she coaxed and cooed and promised with her eyes that his waiting would be well rewarded, he said he would have her as Queen and consort tonight.
"And my brother?"
She still had not seen Edmund, and she had not dared ask about him before. Oh, Aslan, let him be safe now with Peter.
Zeier had only laughed. "Do not worry. I made certain he was released before we left the cave." Then he had given her a sly smile. "To send the High King a message."
There was something nasty in the way he said it, something cruel and pleased, but before he said anything more, one of his men came to the doorway.
"Pardon me, My King, but the sentry says you are summoned to the gate."
"Summoned?" Zeier sneered. "And who dares summon the King of the Western Wood?"
Susan trembled, forcing her expression to stay placid, not allowing the sudden surge of hope to show in her eyes.
"It is the High King Peter, Sire. He would speak to you."
"Ah." Zeier smiled serenely. "Now, My Queen, it is time. Time for you to show your worth and demand from the High King what is ours by right."
He smoothed his hair, settled Edmund's stolen cloak around his shoulders, and walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the eastern gate. Susan crept to the doorway, keeping herself in the shadows until she could decide what best to do.
Zeier was exchanging pleasantries with her brothers as if they were on the best of terms. Brother Kings indeed. She dared not look out, but she could hear Peter's voice, oh, dear Peter, he had come for her at last. And, from what Zeier had said, Edmund was with him. Why had he not yet spoken? Oh, it didn't matter. They were here. They had come for her. Even now Peter's voice came to her, calm and clear, the voice of the High King. Aslan's High King.
"You will come down or, before Aslan, we will bring you down. You and this false Queen you claim. Come down, both of you."
"Perhaps, High King, you would like to speak to her yourself." Zeier turned back into the room and reached out his hand for her. "Come, My Queen. You are called for."
She took his hand and stepped onto the balcony, out of the shadows at last, and saw Narnia's army spread out before her, the gallant Centaur General at their head, and her brothers, her Kings, gleaming gold and silver there in the sunlight, eyes burning with righteous fury. Then Oreius went pale. Edmund's eyes widened and Peter gasped.
"Susan."
Author's Note: Soooooooooooooooooooo . . . here we are at last. And what do you think happens next?
Another Author's Note: In a review, Ann said, "And do you have any recommendations for other good Oreius stories? Where he's the narrator instead of just background?"
Right now LadyAlambiel is writing a very intense tale that has Oreius as the main character. It's called A Light in the Darkness: Rekindled. You might enjoy that story and her other Light in the Darkness stories. Oreius is a major player in all of them, and they're highly entertaining.