THE LION, THE CAT AND THE TURTLES
Based on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird
and
The Chronicles of Narnia
by C. S. Lewis.
CHAPTER THREE:
Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad, Wolves?
Riding a Centaur is not something that most people, even in Narnia, ever get to experience.
In fact, there's an old Narnian saying which goes: "it's as impossible as putting a saddle on a Centaur," and which is only used about things you're completely sure can't be done. Centaurs are proud, free creatures and not, as they themselves would indignantly say, pack-horses. Only once in a very great while, and only when no other solutions would be practical, might some of the more free-minded centaurs allow someone to ride them. This is considered a great honor and privilege.
If Leonardo had known all this, he might have appreciated his ride a little more. As it was, the main thing he appreciated was the fact that he'd been trained in keeping his balance, and endure pain and discomfort, from an early age. It was much harder and more uncomfortable to ride a centaur than it was to ride those horses he'd gotten to ride back in his own world; not only was there a lack of a saddle, but Moorwin also clearly wasn't used to having passengers and took little care for him as she galloped forward through the woods.
"How far is it to Cair Paravel?" Leo shouted above the wind in his ears.
"About one hour, if I could gallop the whole time," Moorwin answered back. "But I can't do that, especially not with a passenger! I will have to slow down soon! How fast would you say your invisible creatures were moving?"
"Nowhere near as fast as your galloping!"
"Good! With a bit of luck, we've overtaken them by now!"
Soon after, Moorwin did slow down to a trot -- which was both better and worse for her passenger, as the pace grew more comfortable, but the amount of bouncing up and down grew worse. If they hadn't been in such a hurry, Leo thought as he tried remembering the meager riding lessons he'd had (was it something about rising up and down in rhythm with the horse to avoid being jolted?), he would rather have walked.
His situation was not, he mused, a bright one -- though he had been in much worse places than this, none of them had ran on such a strange and unpredictable time that there was a very real danger that even if he did make it home, everyone he knew and loved would have died of old age. He could, of course, end up being lucky and return to his own world only seconds after he'd left, but how could he be certain?
Just then, a sharp jolt brought on by Moorwin jumping over a small brook tore him out of his gloomy thoughts, and for a few seconds all he cared about was regaining his balance and not falling off. Even several minutes after he'd steadied himself, his mind was fully occupied with just how bumpy and awkward this ride was.
But now he felt his resolve strengthening. There was no point in thinking about time now; there was absolutely nothing to be done about it at the very moment, and he'd probably be better advised focusing on his current situation and what he could do. He was, after all, a Turtle on a mission, and if the benevolent king of this land (because there was no reason to assume that this King Rilian was anything but benevolent) was threatened, and Leonardo was in a position to do something about it, then... well, not doing anything would just be dishonorable.
He was sure that his family would have agreed with him there.
"You did not by any chance happen to see, or feel, if we were passing the invisible creatures?" said Moorwin, sounding slightly out of breath (though not nearly as much as anyone else might have after sunning for so long).
"No, but I wasn't really in an ideal position for feeling anything," said Leo apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to riding."
"And I'm not used to having a passenger, so we're even there," said Moorwin. "But when the King's safety is at stake, we must all make sacrifices." She seemed to have caught more of her breath now, so she went on as she trotted: "How much do you know about Narnian history?"
"Only what Portly told me."
"Knowing Portly, that would have been quite a bit. Still..." Moorwin seemed to consider her words. "We Narnians are perhaps a little over-protective of King Rilian. But we almost lost him once."
"I didn't hear that part of the story."
"I won't make too long a tale of it," said Moorwin, "for I don't think I have the breath for that. Suffice to say, back when he was still Prince Rilian, the king once vanished from Narnia and was gone for years. We all feared he was dead, but it turned out he had been imprisoned by a powerful Enchantress."
"What happened?" said Leo, glad to have something besides the riding to focus on.
"Two children came from another world and broke the enchantment and freed him. Which is why we now call him 'Rilian the Disenchanted.' That was ten years ago. I was only a foal back then, but I remember seeing the children." This speech seemed to have taken up quite a bit of Moorwin's breath, so she had to pause a little before she continued, not without a certain pride: "My father was one of the centaurs that carried them back to Cair Paravel. In fact, they went along the same path we're going now."
"Hmmm," said Leo, because this new information had given him another thought."What happened to the children afterwards?"
"They went back to their own world, I reckon. Isn't that what they all do in the end?"
"Moorwin," said Leo, "am I right when I say that on all the occasions when someone came from other worlds to Narnia, it was to either put a king on the throne, or to remove a king or queen that was ruling without the right to do so, or to help out a king in a time of great need?"
"I haven't heard it put quite like that before," said Moorwin after a brief pause. "Mostly, it's agreed that they come when Narnia is in need of aid. But then again -- the fate and well-being of a King is often closely linked with that of his country!"
Leo didn't answer that, partly because Moorwin now decided that it was time for another gallop, and once again he had to focus on bracing himself so he wouldn't fall off. Nonetheless, he thought when he had steadied himself, all this couldn't be coincidental. Portly and Glenstormer had been right: Whatever had or had not happened for Leo to suddenly find himself in this strange country, all signs pointed to one thing: it seemed like he was the latest in the line of people called to aid Narnia.
Luckily, the Narnians seemed friendly enough, and it was always a relief to meet people who didn't question his strange appearance... but there was something, well, odd about them. Oh, he didn't think they were evil or anything, but there was just something about this place and its people that struck Leo as... different. And it wasn't just the fact that they seemed to consist mostly of centaurs and dwarfs and talking animals and other strange creatures either.
It's more like the land itself, he realized. Something about the air... and the plants and trees... and even the ground and rocks. They seem slightly more...
Try as he might, though, he couldn't really identify exactly what there was more of, or why he felt that there was more of it, or what it all meant.
The journey went on. Moorwin went as she had said -- short periods of intense gallop, longer periods of brisk trot. And Leo didn't know if the air and the land was having some unexpected effect on him, or if he was just discovering that he really did have a natural talent for horseback riding and just never had the chance to properly develop before, but he found that the ride was becoming easier as time passed.
That's not to say he wouldn't still be glad when this ride was over, but the bumping and bouncing were slowly starting to bother him less. After some time, he thought he barely felt them anymore -- though just as he'd thought that, he realized that he did still feel them. His arms and legs ached from holding on for so long, and his body felt more than a little beat-up. But (and here he gacve a silent thanks to his endurance training) he found that he could still cling on.
The landscape was starting to change around them; the lush and dense forest thinning out until it was replaced completely by a grassy plain, a well-travelled dirt road stretching across it and towards the horizon. And then, in the distance, on a hill and overlooking what seemed to be a small village, a castle.
Even from such a long way off, Leo could see how huge, how impressive, it was. Built in stone and looking as if it could stand up to almost any siege, it was a castle that any king would have been proud to call his own.
"Cair Paravel," said Moorwin, quite unnecessarily. "We are almost there! Let us gallop the last bit!"
"Wait!" Leo suddenly shouted, as another sensation overcame him, a feeling of displacement, of something wrong...
"What is it?" Moorwin came to a halt.
Leonardo briefly closed his eyes, focusing intensely on the sensation. Something was there. Something unseen, unheard. He opened his eyes again. "They're here. Just behind us, but closing in fast."
"The invisible creatures?" said Moorwin.
"That's them," said Leo. All of a sudden, he didn't feel so sore or tired anymore; he instead felt the familiar excited tenseness he always felt right before going into battle. "Get ready to run. I'm not used to horseback, or Centaurback fighting, but if we need to fight them..."
"Don't be ridiculous," said Moorwin. "You can't fight invisible creatures. You won't even be able to see where they are."
"I don't need to see them," said Leo. He took a few deep breaths and concentrated. Don't be fooled by the invisibility. The creatures are there, they're just trying to convince the world around them that they're not. Don't pay attention to that. See what's there, not what they want you to think is there.
And now he knew for certain that ten or twelve creatures were approaching him at great speed. He couldn't tell just what they were yet, but he could definitely tell that they were not friendly. They had a feel to them that he was all too familiar with; he'd felt it with Foot ninjas, Triceraton soldiers, and numerous others he'd encountered over the years: They were killers, killers on a mission who wouldn't hesitate to take down anyone who might get in their way.
But he had dealt with such people before.
"Who goes there?!" he called, drawing his swords. "You may be invisible, but I know you're there! Show yourselves!"
The creatures, seemingly surprised, slowed down before him. He was beginning to make out their shapes now; they seemed like four-legged creatures at first but as they came closer some of them seemed to shift and take on a more human shape. It was as if they came more and more into focus as they slowed, and he heard one of them speak, with a gruff voice: "I thought you said we would be invisible to all like this!"
Another one, the one that Leo judged the biggest and probably the leader, said in a voice that sounded wilder, harsher and stronger: "We were supposed to be." The creature fixed Leo with a stare, and came even more into focus; it seemed like a man, but an extremely wild and feral man dressed in ragged furs. "Who are you, who can see through the Red Lady's powerful enchantments?!"
"You tell me who you are first," said Leo, making sure to keep both his swords in plain sight. "Be warned -- if you approach the castle with hostile intentions, we will fight you!"
The creatures came even more into focus, and it seemed as though whatever it was made them invisible was wearing off as they spoke, because Moorwin took an involuntary step back as they grew clearer and sharper; twelve beings, some looking like their leader -- wild, and savage men -- while others looked like unnaturally large wolves, and yet others appeared as some strange hybrid of human and wolf, but were growing less wolf and more human by the second.
"Werewolves!" Moorwin exclaimed.
"I was not addressing you, horse," the leader snarled. "We have business with the so-called King of Narnia. A business proposal, so to speak, to the mutual benefit of everyone."
"I see," said Leo. The feeling of fierce hostility radiating from the creatures didn't exactly make him inclined to trust them. "Tell us this business proposal, then."
"I have a different proposal for you," said the leader, his voice twisting into a savage growl. "Stand aside, and we will not kill you!"
"If that's the attitude you bring forth business proposals with," said Leonardo, "then I doubt you'll get to any sort of agreement with the King. Royalty have this thing about good manners. And I'm sure that trying to sneak up on them while invisible counts as a breach of etiquette as well. Now, I suggest you turn around and go back while you still can!"
The savage growl of the leader was picked up by the rest of the Werewolves, a few of them looking ready to attack there and then. "Why should we pay any heed to your words?" said the leader. "We outnumber you. If you fight, you shall die!"
"Perhaps," said Leo loudly, to make himself heard over the growls, "but take this into consideration: You're no longer invisible, and can, I should think, be easily seen from the watchtowers at the castle even from here. To get to the King, you have to get through the village, and even if they managed, the castle is bound to have guards and archers. You'd be dead long before you could even get the King in your sight."
For a long moment, the Werewolves glared at him, their bodies poised to attack. Leo braced himself, and felt Moorwin do the same, for the inevitable battle... but then, the leader made a sort of hand signal to his comrades, and in one swift movement all of them dropped down on four legs, turning back into wolves, and turning around to start running back towards the forest.
Leo didn't waste any time. "Go!" he hissed to Moorwin, sheathing his swords and clinging onto her.
It took a few seconds before the words registered with the Centaur, who was apparently baffled that the inevitable battle had somehow not happened, but then she seemed to understand, and she turned and began galloping towards the castle at full speed.
"I've never heard of anyone talking their way out of a situation with angry Werewolves before," she panted. "They're savage beasts!"
"Let's just hope they don't remember that and try to come after us before we've reached the --" Leo glanced back, and saw to his horror that three of the Wolves had turned and were running after them, even as, in the far distance, the leader howled for them to come back. They were probably the ones that had given into the rage instead of following the more sensible route of caution, Leo thought fleetingly before making a decision. "Run to the village as fast as you can! Warn them!"
"What are you --" Moorwin began, but didn't get any further as Leo jumped off her back and rolled as he hit the ground.
Ignoring the pain that shot through his sore and aching body, he got to his feet, drawing his swords again. "GO!" he roared, using the same voice that he used with Raphael whenever his brother got stubborn and there wasn't time for a longer argument. "They can't be allowed to reached the village! Too many innocents! I'll hold them off!"
Moorwin wavered for a split second, but then ran in the direction of the village at an even higher speed than she had managed with Leo on her back.
Content that she would reach the village and at least give the people there some warning before they were attacked by raging Werewolves, Leonardo turned back to face the three charging creatures, who were gaining in on him with the speed, it seemed, of race cars.
"Come on," he taunted, to make sure their attentions were all on him on not on Moorwin. "Who's afraid of the big, bad Wolves?"
The fastest Wolf sprang on him like a furry streak of lightning with bared teeth and claws, but Leo was prepared for just this, and threw himself aside at the last minute, so the Werewolf landed ungraciously in the dirt, leaving itself open for the slicing of Leo's sword. A neck -- be it animal or human -- is actually quite a bit tougher than most people think, and a Werewolf's neck tougher still, but nevertheless, and with one swift, skillful swing of the sword, the Werewolf's head was separated from its body.
Leo had no time to celebrate his victory, because the two other Wolves were jumping on him now, both at the same time. One of them, he managed to avoid completely, but the other collided with him and sent them both tumbling down. For a brief moment, everything was complete chaos, with furious claws slashing against him and teeth snapping wildly in front of him, but thankfully, the wolf misjudged and only managed to scrape his plastron. It would have been lethal to a human, but as a Turtle, Leo's heart was protected by a shell that the Werewolf's claws didn't manage to slash through.
Kicking as hard as he could, Leo was able to send his opponent flying before getting back to his feet just in time to have the other Werewolf, the one that had missed, attack with a ferocious growl. Leo just narrowly avoided being pushed over again, jumping aside and onto the second Werewolf, which was in the process of raising itself again but now collapsed under the sudden extra weight.
"Back off, or I kill your comrade here!" Leo shouted to the first Wolf, as he brought one of his swords down to the second one's neck.
It didn't work. The Wolf merely jumped at him again, with bared teeth, and Leo had no choice but to slice at it with both swords and jump aside.
The Wolf stumbled and fell to the ground, dead.
The one remaining Wolf tried snarling, but couldn't quite seem to manage. Since Leo had been forced to jump off it, it was rid of the extra weight (and of the threatening sword towards its neck), and managed to raise itself
"You will... pay for this, creature," it threatened, coughing and wheezing.
"That may be, but you aren't the one who'll make me pay," said Leo, holding both swords out at it. "Surrender. You're wounded and weak, and you don't stand a chance."
The Wolf's eyes narrowed, filled with hatred, but it didn't answer.
"What do you want with the King of Narnia? Who sent you?" Leo demanded.
"We were sent by... the Red Lady," it answered. "That is... all you will learn from me." With that, and with a sudden and surprising new vitality, it turned and ran, away from the village and back to the forest, where its other comrades had vanished previously.
Leo let it run. It was too fast for him, and besides, he hated killing, even when it was necessary, even in honorable combat like this. That werewolf had had enough wind knocked out of it for now what it wouldn't be a threat, at least for a while.
Not to mention, now that the danger was over and the adrenaline level was sinking, he again realized just how much his entire body was aching after that ride through the forest.
He looked over at the bodies at the two other Werewolves and briefly considered making a fire and burning the bodies -- it wouldn't do at all to just leave them lying there -- but in the end, he decided against it. It would only take time and resources he didn't have. He'd just have to get someone from the village to come and tend to the bodies, or...
He looked up as he heard hoofbeats from the distance. Moorwin had returned from the village, and was galloping towards him. Leo hailed her with both swords, before stepping over to the edge of the road to wipe the blood of the swords in the grass. It would have to do until he had the time to clean them properly.
"I returned as quickly as I could," said the Centaur. "The villagers are warned, and a couple of the knights are saddling up and ready to ride to your aid as we speak. Where is the third Werewolf?" she added as she saw the two bodies lying there in the middle of the road.
"It ran," said Leo. "Apparently, it didn't feel like taking chances. Do you think these knights will be able to take care of these bodies? I'd do it, but... I left my matches in my other belt."
Moorwin flashed him a rare smile. "I am sure arrangements will be made. You have probably done enough for one day -- foiled a probably threat to the King, killed two Werewolves and frightened off ten more... that is a good day's work in my eyes. The King shall want to reward you for this!"
"If he could arrange it so I could have a hot bath, that would be nice," said Leo, stretching his sore muscles. "I wish we knew more about who'd sent those Werewolves, though. I was hoping to take one or more of them alive, to interrogate, but they didn't give me that option. I suppose we could try running after the one that got away, but he has to be far off by now."
"And Werewolves are experts in covering their tracks," said Moorwin. "Not even the best hunter in Narnia could track one that did not want to be tracked. But I suppose you, with your, shall we say, skill in sensing them...?"
"I can really only do that if they're in my immediate surroundings. Useful for hide-and-go-seek, but not for tracking." Leo paused, as he remember what the surviving werewolf had said. "By the way, you wouldn't know who the 'Red Lady' is supposed to be, do you?"
Moorwin shook her head. "I heard the Werewolves mention the name, but I can't say I'd ever encountered it before."
"Well, the one who ran for it just now said that she was the one who'd sent them in the first place."
"Perhaps the King, or at least someone in Cair Paravel, knows more," said Moorwin thoughtfully. "We had better request an audience as soon as possible." She was about to say something else, when once again, hoofbeats were heard from the direction of the village.
They both turned to see two men on horseback, clad in armor, coming rushing towards them. They were, as Leo guessed, the knights from the village, come out to help them against the werewolves.
As Raphael might have said, had he been there, 'trust the cavalry to arrive just after the danger is past.'
Just at the edge of the forest, the wounded Werewolf rejoined his comrades, who were waiting for him, still in wolf forms, in the shadows under the trees.
The leader greeted him with a mighty blow of his paw that sent him tumbling, and then stood above him with bared teeth, as the other Wolves gathered in a circle around the two, watching with detached emotionlessness. None of them felt, or even thought about feeling, the slightest bit of sympathy -- the culprit had disobeyed a direct order, and was now getting his punishment, as was only fitting.
"Idiot!" the leader growled. "Did I not tell you not to go back? The green creature was right, we would never have gotten to Cair Paravel without the invisibility spell of the Red Lady."
The wounded Werewolf tried to raise himself, but was knocked down again. "We shouldn't have allowed the Green Creature and the Centaur to live," he said weakly. "Now they will inform the King, and Cair Paravel will know about us. They'll increase their guard, probably employ magicians to see about countering invisibility spells. Any hope we might have had about reaching the castle at all is gone, Red Lady or no."
"That might very well be," the leader agreed. "But you and the other two still disobeyed orders, and look where it got you."
"Why could we not," the wounded Wolf said, knowing he was fighting a losing battle but determined to make his point nonetheless, "have charged the Green Creature and the Centaur all at once? We could have stopped them and killed them before they ever reached the village! They wouldn't have stood a chance against all of us!"
"We did not do that," said the leader, "because we were too close to the village and were at risk of being seen and hunted down by the villagers. We did not do that because the Green Creature is an unknown factor in this, and a warrior besides -- and it's folly to rush into unprepared combat with an obviously powerful enemy that you know nothing about. And, most importantly, and this is really all the reason you should need," he said, letting his voice become a snarl, "we did not do that because I said so."
There was a short pause. Nobody spoke, or even made a sound.
Then, the leader got off the wounded culprit and looked at the others. "We will have to inform the Red Lady about this new development," he said. "We will also have to inform her that the first part of her plan has failed... as well as trying to find out why her invisibility spell faded when we talked to the green creature. As a little reward for your folly," he added, looking at the wounded wolf, "you shall be the one to ask her."
The wolf got back to his feet and whimpered nervously.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Author's notes: I know, I know, the traditional legends say that werewolves can only be killed by silver or fire. But Narnian Werewolves are different from most of the legends -- the one in Prince Caspian dies quite easily from a normal steel sword, and even though Caspian is bitten by it, he does not turn into a werewolf himself, nor is it ever mentioned that he might have.
As for the village near Cair Paravel: You're right, Narnia-fans, if you read the books they say nothing about a village. However, in The Last Battle (which takes place hundreds of years after this story), there's a city around Cair Paravel. So the village here is the meager beginnings of this, though it'll take two hundred years before it's grown large enough to be called a city.
In the next chapter, we're back in New York again (yeah, we're doing the "every other chapter" thing, but you must have caught onto that by now) to hear Susan's story, and why she turned away from Narnia in the first place.