Title: The Taste of Murder
Author: Rolletti
This story takes place during the Golden Age.
Ages: Peter 18. Susan: 17, Edmund 15, Lucy 13
I do apologize for the late arrival of chapter four. I had a very difficult time with professors breathing down my neck before finals, and had to devote ALL of my free time to studies. I could cry now just thinking about it. Thank you, FelipeMarcusThomas for encouraging me to study hard instead of giving in to the pull of this story.
I saw this disclaimer on someone's story and thought it a good idea to put on my own: I've read so much that I hope I didn't steal something from someone's story, if I did please accept my apology.
No Slash What So Ever
Disclaimer: Yep, I do not own any part of C.S. Lewis' works, and I'm still regrettably poor.
The Taste of Murder Chapter 4
Peter shook with rage as he gripped the hilt of Rhindon. He tried to bring his breathing under control as he stared into the fire nearest his tent. His nostrils flared, infuriated with the decision he was forced to make. "Don't look at me like that, Oreius. Her death was merciful." Oreius stomped his foot and whipped the air with his tail in protest. "She deserved to die along with everyone who caused the death of my subjects, and the abduction of my siblings. Besides, if she was a soldier in a war you'd think nothing of it."
Oreius knew the king was right, and he was sure if he knew the woman's exact role in the atrocity he would have killed her himself. Nevertheless, he had her body buried out of respect.
Tavunis Faun approached the fire where the king and Oreius stood with feigned confidence, and added two more logs to chase away the evening chill. Earlier, he pulled the shortest straw between three Dwarves, a Dryad and a brother Faun to see who would go near the king to attend the fire. The king's savage mood was still evident after leaving Cair Paravel, therefore most left him to the brave General Oreius. Tavunis, a great warrior in his own right, made no eye contact, deposited the wood and quickly joined his companions as he wiped his brow and horns. The subjects of Narnia loved and treasured their dear High King, but none rather stand face to face with his dark side, not even his loyal soldiers.
After a moment of silence while watching the fire consume and crackle, Peter's cold eyes traveled up to meet his commander's. "We are near the land of the Hzans. They have something I want."
"No Peter!" exclaimed Oreius vehemently, too shocked to realize he spoke out of term. "This is madness, you've gone too far! If you go, surely Narnia will be without a High King." The muscles in Peter jaw began working as his chin rose in defiance. Oreius took note and began to twist the knife, "And your siblings will suffer as the new orphans of Raccoon village suffer."
A minute muscle jumped in Peter's face as the small hairs on the back of his neck rose. Hurt, he studied the face of the general as sorrow whispered his name. He swallowed thickly and whispered, "I take that risk with every campaign, Oreius, you know that."
"But setting foot in that accursed land is foolish."
"I'm a fool for my family," said Peter, the firelight revealed the unshed tears. "Can you fault me for that?"
Oreius remained silent.
"I'm going to seek out the Hzans, not for only my sibling's sake, but out my duty and love for Narnia. Strangers came into our home, killed our people, and increased our despair by taking away our king and queens. One day the citizens of Narnia will again sleep in peace when they lay down to rest, and the Hzans are going to help me accomplish that goal. I'm leaving at first light."
"I will be ready."
"I do not expect you to accompany me," said Peter as he shook his head in protest.
"Goodnight, Your Majesty," said Oreius, his arms folded across his massive chest, and face harder than usual.
Recognizing the dismissal, Peter face softened as he realized further argument would be futile. "Goodnight then." When he reached the entrance of his tent, he turned and said, "I'm not ashamed for I did. I carried out my sentence, woman or not. But for what it's worth, it hurt all the same."
"Understood, Your Majesty," came the gentle, fatherly reply from the great Centaur General, and the approving nod of those that stood by.
Peter stared into darkness as he lay on his back, mindlessly twirling his ring. Thoughts of the Hzans kept him awake for more than half the night. 'When Edmund finds out about my trip to the Hzans he's going to kill me. He'll ask Aslan to bring me back to life just so he can kill me again.' Peter sighed and turned as much as he could in his hammock. Thoughts of the devilish creatures, and what he must do, were overwhelming. He saw in his mind's eye creatures moving just underneath the surface of the earth like a fish swim through water. Everyone knew only the ignorant stepped foot on that accursed land.
NnNnNnN
Dananal's world spun out of control as he ran, instinctively fighting off the branches that tried to whip his face, shred his clothes. His vision was hindered by the heavy rains as he tried to find Galenor's hideout. Fear hindered him most of all, fear and grief. Earlier, hidden behind a tree, he saw the cruel beheading of his devoted friend. He followed Rundell a day after she left the group. He tried to talk her out of it, but the stubborn wall she erected refused to allow her to listen to reason. He had finally caught up to her and was about to alert her of his presence when he saw…him. Dananal didn't need anyone to tell him who the pale figure was. One look told him the rumors were true. He saw from his hiding place that the king did not blink when Rundell revealed herself as a woman. The only expression he held was the barring of his teeth when he swung his blade, which actually sung as it sliced the air. Without a glance back, the king was gone.
Dananal wasn't too keen on women. They were only trouble in his eyes, and that included his mother. He only saw them as demanding, money grubbing, baggage who deserved the back of his hand. But Rundell was different. When she wanted something, she didn't play the manipulation game, or wait for a man to get it for her. If she wanted it, she took it, and cut the throat of anyone who tried to take it back. She was feisty, could out drink any man, and be the last one standing in any brawl. She refused to cut her luxurious hair. It was to remind the cutthroats around her that a woman had beaten them.
Now she was dead.
Dananal stopped running, his breathing uncontrolled. He rested his hands on bent knees, overcome with grief remembering the expression of hope on Rundell's face as her head fell.
NnNnNnN
The door slammed against the wall startling everyone in the room. A massive man stumbled in wet, muddy and broken.
"What are you doing here? I thought you left with the rest of those traitors! Come to your senses have ye?"
"She's dead, dead, Galenor. Rundell's dead. He killed her. I saw it happened with my own eyes. Her body lay near that winding brook with her hat clutched in her fingers. Her head lay nearby."
Lucy and Susan gasped. Edmund swallowed thickly desiring more than ever to be free for his brother's sake. He recognized the name Rundell. She was the one who cut into Lucy's neck and threatened to kill her. She was the same one who took her sword and killed his defenseless subjects.
"Some magnificent king. It seems he takes pleasure in killing women too," growled Galenor at Edmund.
"She chose the sordid life she led, and there are consequences. Rundell drew the blood of a Narnian Queen. No one does that and live. Galenor she has been tried and judged for her crimes against Narnia. Rundell's death was required, as is yours," proclaimed Edmund with a final verdict.
An odd feeling of facing a great judge was so overwhelming that Galenor took an involuntary step back. He stood in disbelief as the judicial tone from the child sent chills up his spine. He quickly turned away from Edmund's eyes to gather himself. His nostrils flared as he took in deep breaths to calm himself. Suddenly, Galenor's men stood straighter as they watched their leader square his shoulders with confidence. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, and the other sliding down his face, Galenor turned to look at Edmund and his sisters. "I have been a fool."
"I've been telling you that since you brought us here," said Edmund with his signature eye roll.
"Shut up you little maggot, or you'll find your teeth shoved down your throat. Listen," he said to his men. "If the High King is bent out of shape over these three, it could only mean one thing...," Galenor smiled evilly, victoriously. "We have him by the royal crown. He'll do anything for these runts. I'll wager he'll even lay down his life for them. It's time to make a move. Carson," he said as he grabbed the man behind the neck joyously. "Quickly, find your way back and find me some potential buyers; rich ones!"
NnNnNnN
Parts of Narnia went about its daily task in ignorant bliss, but the news of the great tragedy at Raccoon village spread like a deadly wildfire. Mr. Tumnus and Mr. Fox were trusted to keep Cair Paravel and the kingdom in order until, "I bring my family home." Every morning, throughout the day and evening, from the biggest to the tiniest resident of Narnia, fervent prayers went up to Aslan for their Sovereigns. A special prayer was said for the High King's sanity, as his overwhelming love for his siblings was greatly known throughout the land. There were no celebrations of birthdays, new wine or marriages. In a land where the inhabitants found any reason to join in a feast, there was none to be found. The trees lost their vibrancy as the whole land spoke in whisper as it grieved. If someone was walking about, there was one audible word they heard as they passed each home; Aslan, Aslan, Aslan.
Amid the prayers for their Sovereigns were prayers for the hearts of Narnians. They beseeched Aslan for forgiveness as the taste of murder settled thickly over the land. The White Witch stole 100 years of their lives, now with the kings and queens gone, their Tree of Protection, there was another threat to their lives. The citizens of Narnia wanted revenge, not wanting to sit back and allow another lifetime to be devastated. Mr. Tumnus and Mr. Fox found they had an enormous task keeping the fires of rage at bay, especially since they too have had that same… raw taste.
"Aslan, please help us," said Narnia.
NnNnNnN
Banoc took refuge under a thick green bush during the storm, and was all too grateful that it was big enough to hide him. Immediately after the rain, birds began to flit about and tweet. They sung along with other forest creatures that rejoiced after the refreshing shower. Banoc checked his surroundings for hidden enemies before he cautiously stepped out of his sanctuary. Unfortunately, getting out was harder than it was getting in. For instance, parts of his body was held prisoner by thick, intertwining branches. If his enemy were near, he would have alerted him by the loud grunts and wildly shaking the bush. With only his right foot left to free, Banoc gave one final tug. It was that last tug that sent him careening down the unseen slippery slope. Down, down, down the wet terrain he went, gaining momentum as he tried to desperately seize the wet surface. His nails peeled back as he tried to dig his fingers into the ground, his bloody hands adding to his slippery dilemma. Eyes wild with terror, Banoc screamed in horror when he found himself freefalling, grasping the air. His body bounced a few times before it slammed against the trunk of a large tree. As the world began to fade, intense, ice blue eyes appeared above him and said, "Hello. I've been looking for you."
Banoc was deep underwater swimming to the surface, to light. The closer he was to freedom the clearer the birdsongs were. When he broke through, he gasped for air as the world slowly came into focus. Banoc had regained consciousness. Once his vision cleared he found those same predatory eyes staring at him, only they were upside down, or rather he was. While unconscious he was strung upside down from the very tree that stopped his fall. There was no doubt who hung him there as he began to tremble. For days, he heard the screams of others in the woods, and he was sure he was looking at the cause of them.
"Do you have any siblings?" inquired Peter as he sat eye to eye with the man.
"Nnn, no, You're Majesty."
"Any children?"
"Yyyess, Your Majesty."
"Have they ever been abducted?"
Banoc was silent and looked away before he whispered, "No."
"So you are incapable of understanding the pure agony, the despair that has ravaged me every waking moment, and my dreams," said Peter as he watched the full moon rise.
The man had the audacity to look embarrassed. "No, I, I don't care much for children, not even my own…those that I know of."
Peter pursed his lips. "At this moment you are in no position to defend yourself with your arms tied to your body. But I have a strong desire to cut your tongue out and everything in your throat for relaying such filth."
"I didn't touch them, I promise…the other king and queens. I promise I didn't touch them," quivered Banoc as he felt the sweat roll into his hair.
The moon was half way up into the sky when Peter turned to look the man in the eyes. "Imagine this. You come home from a hard day's work, settling disputes amongst your subjects, which is quite difficult concerning elephants and giraffes." Banoc brows creased in confusion. "The table is beautifully set, the food smells delicious, but there is no family to greet you. No kisses, no hugs, no cheeky little brother you would stop the world for."
The man did not think Peter could look any colder, but the shiver that ran up his spine confirmed he could. "You took my two sisters, the very flowers of Narnia. Sweet natured, very…"
"I beg your pardon, your Majesty, but the little'un killed three men, and the eldest sister nearly bit off Galenor's finger."
"I didn't say they were helpless," said Peter conversationally. He stood and tested the security of the man's bindings, very satisfied with his work. "Look, today is a full moon…" Peter was interrupted by sweet, melodic voices that slowly filled the air with music; soft and hypnotic. The reflection of the moon danced in Peter's eyes to the rhythm of the chorus. The king stood unemotional and dead, a dark and sinister contrast to the music weaving itself around them. "It's the Yarweens," said Peter as he answered Banoc's unasked question.
The harmony grew as the moon climbed higher in the sky when suddenly there they were, the Yarweens in all their feminine glory. Even in his position Banoc was mesmerized by their striking beauty. Stunningly pale they were,yet pleasing to the male eye. They flew gracefully with delicate wings, their dance enticing as their song swelled with the rising of the moon as their stage. Three of the alluring creatures flew closer as they continued to sing in their exotic tongue. Elegant fingers gently caressed Banoc's cheeks as he was admired through luxurious lashes and captivating eyes. Their sultry gaze held him prisoner as their song seduced his senses.
Peter stood in silence as he watched how Banoc suffered from the desire to reach out and touch the very essence of temptation. He saw how the man forgot his plight as he hung upside down from a tree. Meanwhile, the music filled the sky as the moon continued to climb, reaching its goal, its zenith.
The music instantly stopped.
All but one forlorn note. Then another was added to it, then another and another. Each note building on top of the other as Peter watched the three Yarweens pick up thick, wide vines growing out of the ground underneath Banoc. One of the three slipped her fingers through the man's hair before she stepped closer and kissed him deeply.
"You people should know the terrain before you go walking about, taking what doesn't belong to you," said Peter to Banoc, void of expression.
The Yarween gradually broke off the kiss and look demurely over her shoulder at Peter with a sensuous smile. Slowly the sirens took flight as they circled around the obsessed Banoc, whose eyes caressed the dips and curves of each shapely form. Powerless, he continued to watch in a dreamy state, licking the sweet taste of a Yarween from his lips. Around Banoc they flew, higher and higher into the sky clutching their vine adorned with thick, six-inch thorns. As the music climaxed the three Yarween flew straight up in unison, muscles taught as they pulled, eyes bright with complete satisfaction. Banoc's scream joined the chorus.
Peter turned and walked away as he removed the plugs from his ears. He glanced back at the demonic forms of the Yarweens as they disappeared within the branches of the great tree, and the roots greedily fed on Banoc's blood.
Peter continued his trek to the land of the Hzans.
tbc