Title: The Taste of Murder
Author: Rolletti
This story takes place during the Golden Age.
Ages: Peter 18. Susan: 17, Edmund 15, Lucy 13
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 9
Oreius found the king's saddle located in a corner of the king's tent. The doctor watched in hope as Oreius slowly turned the saddle over. Sure enough, toward the back where it wouldn't rub against the horse, was a small cloth with something intricately sewn inside…the vial.
"Careful," said the doctor, his hands mirroring Oreius' as he detached the cloth.
"Scissors," spoke Oreius softly, barely breathing. "What are we doing Dacor? It's survived all this time it will not break."
"Yes, but we also don't want it to spill. If she put in one drop it may have evaporated," said Dacor with bushy brows drawn together. "Right?"
Oreius ignored Dacor's gloomy declaration of doom, and carefully cut the needlepoint work that housed the love of a queen. As he slowly peeled layers of dark, grey cloth back, the vial came into view. It sat like a jewel of hope, just one drop, to save the king in a dire situation. Hands that could wield a claymore, snap a neck, or instantly kill, delicately delivered the vial to the doctor. There was no need for words when their eyes met. Oreius gently held Peter up by the back of his neck, allowing his head to fall back. The move caused his mouth to slightly open. The doctor looked nervous when he broke the seal to guide the vile between the kings lips.
Bothe the general and Dacor waited with baited breath. They've seen the quick effects of the cordial in the past and hoped it worked the same against the Hzan's poison. After thirty seconds the fever raged on…forty…forty-five, sweat continued to make a trail, fifty, sixty…" It's been a minute, Oreius. No change," said the doctor.
"No, give it time, it will work," said Oreius as he tenderly traced Peter's brow.
They waited.
Dacor grunted after another minute with no change.
The two could practically hear the clock ticking away the seconds where there was none.
"It's been three minutes Oreius, maybe we should…"
"No! Give him time. Not only is the cordial fighting, but so is he."
"So you're the doctor now are ye?" came the cynical reply.
Oreius stood ominously to his full height, daring the doctor to utter another word. Dacor recognized the sign of family members and friends who refused to believe the inevitable of a loved one too sick to carry on. The physician nodded his head in sympathy and exited the tent into fresh air and silvery moonlight. Most of the camp was asleep, which he was relieved to see. He wasn't in the mood to answer any questions about the king's condition, especially to the energetic squirrels.
After refreshing himself with a bit of food and water, and secretly a quick swig of a more powerful drink, Dacor felt he could face Oreius again. Actually, he mentally prepared himself for battle. An hour had passed since he administered the cordial, and the doctor preferred Oreius to come to terms sooner than later. Dacor adjusted his clothing, smoothed down his beard, stood straight and tall—for a Dwarf, and marched toward the tent. However, the good doctor stopped in his track when he saw Peter step out of the tent before he could pull the flap back.
The physician stuttered at the sight of his king. His king, who seemed to be free of fever, studied him with clear blue eyes and breathed in deeply. "Dacor!" said Peter with a half hearted smile, resting his hand on the physicians shoulder. "It's good to see you again, thank you for all you've done. Oreius told me you've spent three days caring for me, but I don't thank you for that tea. That I do remember throughout all those horrific nightmares and hallucinations.
Dacor turned his head and coughed while he secretly wiped away a tear of joy. He roughly cleared his throat as he placed his fist on his hips, looking steady up at the king. "So you decided to wake up I see. Well it's about time…Your Majesty. Now get back to bed. I won't hear any cheek from you until morning, so off with you!"
Peter smiled at him, took in another good lungful of fresh air and went back into his tent. Doctor's orders ruled over all who were sick, even a king, and it was in Peter's favor that he remembered so.
Dacor harrumphed as he literally tucked Peter in tightly where there would be no escape. He fussed about the tent clearing used cloths, water bowls and a tiny vial. "Oreius, you are always underfoot. As you can see he's well, and won't break. Now get out, you'll see him in the morning with everyone else," Dacor said roughly with a wink. Oreius turned to Peter to bid him good-night, but the king was already asleep. "I promise not to leave him, Oreius, not until I see how he's doing in the morning," the doctor said gently. Oreius nodded his head and looked once more on his High King. He thanked Aslan for answering his fervent prayers as he walked out of the tent.
The next morning was met with cheers and tears as the Narnians welcomed their king back amongst the living. A hearty breakfast was made to celebrate, but not for the king, he had to sip broth and eat bread, by order of a cantankerous Dwarf who called himself a doctor. A Falcon was sent back to Cair Paravel with glad tidings and a special note from the king himself, stating all is well with him.
Another day to recuperate was all the doctor could ask. To request the king to delay anymore than that would be suicide.
Peter was brought up to date on events he missed. Tracks that have since been washed away, but remembered by scouts, were described in detail. He will himself investigate once he was free from Dacor. The fire in his blood never dissipated, only simmered, but he felt it the demon lurking, stirring the fire.
Oreius saw it happen. For a moment he stood in the eye of the storm, clear and beautiful was Peter, but now he braced himself to meet total destruction. This Galenor measured against the dead white witch, deserving of death, but Oreius couldn't help feel sorry for him. His will not be a quick death. He took the wrong children this time and will suffer like he has never suffered before.
NnNnNnNn
The next morning Yori rapped on the door before opening it. He didn't like the piercing, cold look in Edmund's eyes at their last meeting, and felt it was a deathly mistake to surprise him by barging into the room. He never met a boy so dangerous and never wished to again…but then again, there was Peter. He may not have a choice.
"Hello, is all well?" he asked before he cautiously pushed his head through. With apprehension, he looked directly at Susan's bandaged arm.
"Yes, Yori thank you. You may want to remove this bucket so you won't get into trouble, you left it here last night," said Edmund, standing next to his sisters, obviously wound tight ready to strike at a moments notice.
"I will Your Majesty, but first take this bucket of fresh water, and I have some fruit I picked from the forest. I re-visited the places you went to a few days ago. I even found more shrooms. There isn't any more meat of course, and I doubt Galenor would allow you out to hunt more game. He's in a bit of a snit as you might imagine," he said as he exchanged the old torch with a fresh-lit one. "It turned out that Dananal told those who were standing guard that Galenor wanted them to switch. It's my guess he wanted revenge for Rundell. They were very close, but no one knows exactly how close," he blushed.
"He did mention her," informed Edmund as he finished off a berryberry fruit.
Yori lost his train of thought as he saw Susan's pink tongue peek out to lick the juice off the corner of her delicate mouth. He often imagined kissing her soft…his line of vision became instantly full of Edmund.
Yori immediately felt his heart plunge down into his boots. There was no other explanation why his heart felt as if it stopped, or that draining feeling in his chest. He couldn't move and his arms tingled. He was going to die.
"EDMUND PEVENSIE YOU UNHAND THAT BOY RIGHT NOW!" demanded Lucy.
Those who guarded the closed door on the other side took a step back, preparing to defend themselves.
Frightened to death, Yori jerked and pulled against pure steel that gripped his tunic under his neck. His eyes were wide with fright, his breath caught in his throat, choking him. He escaped Edmund's grip, actually he was released as the youngest queen commanded, by Edmund who shook in anger. "I have had enough!" the bloodcurdling words rose from deep within Edmund's chest; his fist shook midair as his eyes followed Yori out the door.
The time had come. They've seen the signs for days. Susan and Lucy knew not to utter one word until Edmund was in control of himself again. Everyone had a breaking point, and the Queens of Narnia knew just how far the kings could be pushed before they became a living nightmare.
The sisters sat together meekly as possible, barely breathing, barely moving, until the inevitable pressure building in their brother had a chance to explode. They were not afraid of him, just for him…and anyone who stepped through that door at that very moment.
The girls knew if it wasn't for their presence Edmund probably would have freed himself days ago or at least tried. Unfortunately, because of them, he wouldn't make a move until the condition was just to his liking…unquestionably safe. That window was now closed because of Dananals murder attempt. They were watched too closely now.
It didn't matter there were three now on guard, whatever sounds came out of that room all refused to open that door. Especially after the condition Yori was in when he ran out, he looked as if he was eye to eye with death itself. The dead bodies still burned in their mind's eye as they stood in the watered down blood from the room. The fact that their cohorts were dead did not disturb them; more riches with three less anyhow. But the children, now they were disturbing, their existence was a reason to fear. How did they kill three men without possessing weapons? None thought to check them and who would?
NnNnNnNn
After some time, hesitant footsteps moved toward the sisters who found comfort and strength in each other. A hand tilted both their chins up while a thumb brushed their cheek. "Forgive me?" Both girls launched themselves at their remorseful, and again rational brother. All three held tight to each other and hope.
"Oh Ed, are you alright now?" asked Susan, as she held on to her brother.
Lucy couldn't help the hot flow of tears that brimmed over. It was painful to see him that way, their loving protector. She tried to speak, but couldn't. The words wouldn't come. Edmund held her tighter in understanding.
"It's alright, I'm alright now," he encouraged. Five minutes later, he had to basically pry his sisters from around his waist and sat them down on their crate.
"Oh, Ed, Yori, you scared him half to death. He's our only ally," said Lucy. Kneeling before them with his eyes closed tight, he held a kiss against their joined hands still held in his. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she whispered.
"It's alright, Lu. I am grateful for everything Yori has done, it's just…"
Susan kissed softly him on his bent head, "Shhh Edmund. Your nerves are raw. Come, lay down and rest." Susan guided Edmund's head down on her lap while she ran her fingers through his dark hair. She'd seen Peter do it a number of times to calm Edmund down at the end of a stressful day, it worked every time.
Eyes closed, Edmund felt a feather light kiss on his cheek. "I love you, Edmund," he heard Lucy whisper.
NnNnNnNn
"Curse Dananal, he cost me three men!" Galenor raged in another room with only Manwen for company. "I want these little maggots off my hands and my pockets filled! Where is Carson? He should have returned by now."
"Well, we traveled a great deal to get here. He'll come…that is…" Manwen's voice trailed off.
"That is what?" asked Galenor sarcastically.
"That is if he got away." The two men stood looking at each other from across the room. Both understood, but neither wished to voice the unspoken.
"I hate those children," said Galenor defeated as he slumped into a ragged chair. "I hate them, hate them, hate them."
Manwen sat across from him and said, "Well, I found out what happened earlier. Dananal told Hamar and Jenkell that you said to switch with them, that you wanted three guarding the door instead of two. I guess he wanted revenge for Rundell's death more than filling his pockets.
Galenor chair broke into pieces when it hit the wall behind him. "We all miss Rundell, she was worth a hundred of them mangy mutts put together, but…" A heap of expletives spewed from Galenor's mouth as he kicked the wall. "This is a real mess!"
NnNnNnNn
The forest was filled with fog on the day Peter and his small army set out. It was quiet, no birdsong, no whirlings of bugs. The eerie scenery fit his mood quite well as he searched for anything unusual. Scouts went out ahead, but haven't returned with any good news in two hours.
Was it Aslan or just luck that the king saw something unusual on the forest floor? A flower. There were a variety of wild flowers about, different colors and scents. But this flower, this particular flower was a Narnian flower; Majestic, exotic, breathtaking…Susan's. Scenes of Susan flashed through Peter's mind when he deeply inhaled the scent; her sweet laughter over tea, the daily kisses she had for her sister, twirling in a field of flowers with her hair about her shoulders carefree. That particular flower was placed in her hair by Edmund, who since he was a baby, played in its silkiness.
If the ground could feel the hot rage within the king it would have shook and split open. That flower unlocked a shock wave of rage in Peter that none had ever seen. His sibling's captors would die at their own hands if they knew what horrific revenge the High King of Narnia had in store for them.
Sunbeams pierced through the forest, burning the fog into more of a finer mist. It was enough to uncover the man who ran with confidence. Omer tried his luck to be unguarded since there had been no signs of anyone in the woods for days. He was meticulous in his search day and night for anyone seeking him out. So, on he ran; his lungs burned, and his muscles ached as he pushed them to the limit. He remembered the long trek it took to get to the far off land, and doubling back to reach the hideout, but it was a forest. A forest where all the trees looked alike, every bush and blade of grass sort of blended into a nice ball of…green. He was lost for days, but now had the confidence he was headed in the right direction.
Poor Omer, he was the most unfortunate man...that day.
He halted. He thought he heard something or someone behind him. Omer decided to turn right and ran as fast as he could, but…he heard a twig break before him. Squatting as low as possible Omer stilled in the summer heat. He couldn't hear anything other than the hard thump, thump, thump of his heart. He was careful, watching for days with only the wind for company. He wondered if he was imagining things as his eyes wildly searched the forest. It was pure torture to stand there while his eyes stung from his sweat. He decided to run left, back tracing his steps to safety. He pushed himself, he didn't allow anything to stand in his way as he jumped, flipped and zigzagged his way across the forest floor.
He heard it for sure that time. Leaves crunched, branches swished, and twigs broke, not only behind him, but to the left and right of him. He turned and ran faster. He refused to be caught, not by that nightmare. / It wasn't my fault Galenor took the wrong children. He promised me it would be an easy job, well it wasn't. Thought of getting a taste of the eldest girl's lips for compensation, but her hot tempered wretch of a brother was always aware. Well, forget them all. I'll be free once I get out of these woods. /
His next thought was cut short as a blinding white light exploded in his head. Either Omer face ran into Peter's gloved fist, or Peter's fist slammed into Omer's face, either way Omer was laying flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him.
Rhindon services were required again as it held the misfortunate man on the ground. Omer looked from the point of Rhindon and up the blade to its master with the cold dead eyes.
"I didn't touch them!"
"That is most annoying. Right before the others died, they uttered the same thing. I don't want to hear your weak confessions. Of course you didn't touch them; my brother would have killed you if you tried."
Omer took a good look at who held a sword to his throat.
What happened next was unexpected by both parties. Omer laughed. He laughed good to the point of tears. "Is this it? You are just a boy with a few pets, well trained pets too to herd me towards you. That was a good trick to scare me into running this way. Now let me up you little…"
"Where are my brother and sisters?" said Peter, the point of Rhindon rest at the bottom of Omer throat. He stared unwavering at the man who suddenly became defiantly quite. Omer raised his chin, daring Peter. "Are you expecting me to run you through? What, and walk around all day with the stench of your blood on my boots? No, this will not be quick. Ah yes, I'm going to have fun with you." Omer was suddenly paralyzed.
A subtle move by Peter signaled for Oreius while unreadable, ice blue eyes chilled the kidnapper to the core. For the first time in his life Omer laid eyes on a mighty Centaur. He shook uncontrollably, afraid of the monster that oozed with unbridled power and halted beside him. At any moment Omer expected a powerful kick to the head that would end his life most painfully. He gasped when he heard the boy king speak to the creature and received an answer in the common tongue. Now he understood the gruesome stories. He believed Peter was the king of monsters that walked the earth, and the children he sought… Omer looked quickly to the right when he saw a Faun approach and screamed himself into a dead faint.
"What just happened?" asked Peter.
Oreius and Anmor shrugged their shoulders in bewilderment.
Peter kicked at the man's shoulder, but there was no response. The crease between his brows was a mix of confusion and frustration. "Is he dead?"
"He still breathes," said Oreius.
"Good. Do you have it Anmor?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," replied Anmor, giving Peter a small sack that moved on its own.
Peter took his water skin and poured it on the man's face. "Wake up, I don't have all day! No, no, no. tsk, tsk, tsk. You lie right where you are," he said replacing Rhindon. "I don't know why you fainted; maybe you are suffering from a lack of a deficiency. No matter, you will not live long enough to rectify that."
Omer couldn't stop shaking; he couldn't get enough air through his nose, but was too scared to open his mouth. There he was on the ground lying at the feet of a boy, a child compared to his years, afraid. Tears fell from his eyes in shame.
Peter remained silent, giving the man a chance to comfort himself as he watched. Peter's imposing presence unnerved the man more when he crouched next him. The king's vacant eyes disturbed him more than the creatures that stood near. "It has been a week since my siblings have been stolen from me. You stole. from. me."
Omer swallowed thickly as the sweat rolled into his ears and hair. He refused to look at those eyes again, and turned his attention to the sky that peaked through the leaves of the trees.
"Obviously you don't have anyone to love, you couldn't possibly. No one who can honestly love would steal the gifts that Aslan gave me. Aslan," he whispered, his eyes softened as they trailed off into the distance. Omer's whimper caught Peter's attention again…and the demon.
Peter took the brown bag clutched in his hand and spilled the contents on Omer's chest. "Do you know what these are? No, you wouldn't know because you are not from around here. Let me tell you about these centipedes. They are not the centipedes you see every day. They don't live in my land, they are from here and I am most grateful. Oh look, they've started." Omer looked down to see short, fat centipedes rise up, their red antennae rigorously moving, guiding the creatures towards his face. "No doubt you can see the black claws, very poisonous. Oh no, no lie still, they'll only grip your tunic anyway. You can't shake them off." Omer moved anyway, but Rhindon bit him in the neck. "Don't move," Peter smiled.
The creatures sought the moister it craved as it moved its body one segment at a time. Omer screamed with his mouth closed, pleading with the dead eyed king who stood over him. He tried to shake the creatures off but Rhindon bit him again much harder. Not satisfied with the obvious entrance, feeling the moister there, the centipedes moved forward and gained entrance to Omer's flaring nostrils. They were obviously too big, but they forced themselves through anyway. Omer screamed as he experienced the fire that ripped through his sinuses, making room for the rest of the pest to enter through his mouth. These wiggling creatures made their way to the back of Omer's throat, gagging him. With armor like plates, the centipedes began digging and pushing towards their goal, their source of survival…his heart. There they will mate, lay eggs and die, leaving their hatchlings to dig their way out.
"You took what belongs to me. Now you have a taste of my agony." Peter turned away. "Oreius, let's move. It's time to find the rest. Peter walked away listening to the gurgling sounds of Omer choking on his own blood.
TBC
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to pmbs1992 who is highly allergic to cliffhangers. (^_^)