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 SIX:
The Box of Doom


April O'Neil was no stranger to the odd and unusual. Ever since that fateful day when her life had first been saved by a group of mutant Turtles trained in the art of Ninjutsu, said life had been more or less one long string of odd and unusual events.

Mutated animals. Aliens. Superheroes. Time-travelling. Parallel dimensions. Horrible monsters. And, of course, Casey Jones (who, being human, should logically have been less odd than all those other things but somehow managed to be twice as odd).

Occasionally, she wished that it would all be a little simpler and more, well, normal... but those occasions were rare. Most of the time, she counted herself as lucky and privileged to be a member of the close-knit family that was the "Turtle clan," and if not having a normal life was the price she had to pay for that, she'd pay it gladly.

Even so, when the photograph of the old wardrobe suddenly opened its doors and that bright white light filled her vision, April knew at once that her life was about to enter a whole new dimension of odd.

Blinded by the bright light, she felt the world around her slip away, and for a moment she had the strangest sensation of falling through and endless nothing, before she suddenly realized that she was lying on her stomach on a cold, hard surface, and something heavy was lying on top of her.

As her vision returned, she found herself on a marble floor, and on the bottom of a pile consisting of herself and what seemed a multitude of Ninja Turtle arms, legs and shells.

"Ooof," she managed to say. "Get off me!"

"Sorry, April," came the muffled voice of Donatello.

The weight on her lessened considerably as the pile sorted itself out and got up off her. Breathing easier, April took Don's offered hand and, despite feeling very dizzy and confused, managed to get to her feet and get her first glimpse at her surroundings.

And gasped in wonder.

The room they were in could have been taken straight out of Arabian Nights, particularly one of those versions that goes on and on about the exquisite and grand beauty of the Sultan's Palace. It wasn't particularly large, but the floor and walls were shining white marble, the ceiling seemed to be gold studded with all kinds of jewels, and on every single wall hung colorful tapestries with intricate and beautiful patterns. Three of the walls also sported elegantly arched doorways, leading out to other rooms that from the small glimpse they got of them were just as elegant and richly decorated. There were no visible windows, or lamps, or any other probable light sources, yet the room was somehow brightly lit.

"Man," said Raphael. "Looks like that crazy ol' woman knew what she was doin' after all! She actually sent us to another place, through a doorway on a picture! Anyone got any idea where the heck we are?"

"Or where Mike and Klunk and Mrs. Palmer are?" Don added, letting go of April's hand.

It was then April first realized that the only ones there were Raph, Don, Splinter and herself. Mike and Klunk were nowhere to be seen, nor was the old woman, Susan Palmer. "What happened to them?" she managed to say. "What happened to us?"

Splinter seemed to have come fully to his senses again. He held up a hand for silence and said, in a low voice: "I do not know why Michelangelo, Klunk or Mrs. Palmer are not with us, but it might have something to do with Mrs. Palmer's claims that she was never to return to Narnia."

"You think this is Narnia?" said April.

"I may be wrong," said Splinter. "but it seems the most likely. Our purpose was to go to Narnia and seek out Leonardo, after all, and it seems like we have graciously been offered a way in. I pray that Michelangelo will be all right, though," he added, a trace of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, as if it weren't enough ta worry about one missing brother," Raph muttered. "Now we gotta worry about two."

"With any luck, Michelangelo is still back in New York," said Splinter.

"Well --" Don began, but before he got any further, he stiffened and looked towards one of the arched doorways.

In the sudden silence, April could hear footsteps rapidly approaching from outside the room.

She barely had time to register anything else, because by now Don had grabbed hold of her and hauled her in through another of the doors, while Raph and Splinter vanished in through the door on the opposite wall.

They'd only just ducked out of sight when the footsteps came to a halt, and a voice sounded: "I was certain I heard someone talking in here."

"Perhaps you were mistaken," said another voice. "Or perhaps it was a pair of slaves."

Don and April pressed themselves against the walls on each side of the door to lessen the chances of being seen from outside, and Don looked at April while pressing a finger to his beak. April nodded to show that she understood -- they were in a strange place and had no way of knowing whether the owners of the voices were friendly or hostile, or what they might say to finding strangers, and Mutant Turtle strangers at that, in what might even be their home.

"Slaves in the Forbidden Wing, without being accompanied by a guard or by the Tisroc himself -- may he live forever?" the first voice said, sounding both angry and afraid. "If any impudent slaves or intruders have dared enter these rooms... Hopefully they have not found the Box!"

Don and April exchanged hurried looks. These people definitely didn't sound like they'd be friendly if they found them here. Don clutched his bo staff and April tensed up, ready to either fight or run, whatever came first.

But all of a sudden, Raphael's voice sounded: "Lookin' for me, boys?"

There were a couple of startled yells, the sounds of a very brief struggle, and then -- silence.

After a few seconds, the voice of Raph sounded again: "Feh. Amateurs. Even a low-rankin' Foot Soldier woulda put up more of a fight than that."

April decided to risk a peek, and was greeted by the not-unexpected sight of Raphael standing over the unconscious bodies of two men. They were dark-skinned and dressed in rather elaborate-looking uniforms, and a pair of scimitars were lying on the floor right next to them.

Splinter emerged from the door, looking grave. "I am afraid that did not buy us very much time. Someone else is bound to come by before long."

"And judging from these two bozos, they won't be happy ta see us," Raph added.

"Very likely not," Splinter agreed. "With that in mind, let's make good use of the little time we have and get out of here and find an exit as quickly as possible."

For the first time, April turned to look at the room she and Don had hid in. It was smaller than the first one, and though made of the same marble and gold didn't contain the same tapestries and decorations. But the one thing that grabbed her interest was the small, one-legged table in the middle of the room -- or, to be more precise, the box that was resting on top of it.

It was a small, wooden box with a hinged lid, covered in beautiful and intricate pattern carvings. It looked completely oridinary -- pretty, for sure, but compared to the tapestries and decorations in the other room it wasn't much -- which was why April hesitated. Why would anyone who owned a building as richly-decorated as this keep such a plain-looking box in a room all to itself?

She lingered at the thought for a moment or two, but then decided it wasn't worth pursuing and instead turned around. "No exits in this room, Splinter! Just a table with a box of some sort."

"There is no exit in the room Raphael and I were in either," Splinter answered, turning to Raph. "Raphael, see if you can find a way out of this building, but be careful that you are not seen."

"Gotcha, sensei!" Raph vanished out the door where the two guards had entered.

Splinter carefully stepped over the two unconscious guards, and walked up to April and Don. "Be ready to move out as soon as Raphael returns," he said. "We need to get somewhere safe to regroup and consider our strategy."

"Let's just hope there's a safe place we can get to," April muttered. "We know nothing about this place, not even what's outside these rooms."

"Well," said Don somewhat smugly. "I wouldn't say that. Let's use the Sherlock Holmes method and look at what clues these three rooms can give us. Of course, if we're in a different world, it might be a little harder to know what's valid and what isn't... but if this room, and the clothes of these two guards, is any indication of what the rest of this place is like, then I wouldn't be surprised to see flying carpets and stuff like that outside."

"So you noticed that too?" said April.

Don nodded. "Still... the way Mrs. Palmer described Narnia, it sounded more like a pseudo-medieval European society. So either we're not in Narnia, or whoever owns this place is just not following the local style."

"Didn't those two guards say something about someone called... what was it again... Tisroc?" said April. "Ever heard of that?"

Don seemed to think this over for a couple of seconds, but then he shook his head. "Can't say I have," he said. "At least Mrs. Palmer never mentioned anyone called that. Master Splinter?"

"I am just as much in the dark on this as you are, my son."

"Well," said Don thoughtfully. "Let's get back to that one. Given the way those two guards talked about a Forbidden Wing and a box, and given that the only box I can see here is that one," he pointed at the box April had been looking at, "it seems we've stumbled upon the keep of something out of the oridinary. Why would such a plain wooden box like that be kept by itself in any place named 'forbidden,' much less in a place that looks this rich?"

"Maybe it contains something... extremely precious," April suggested.

"Or something extremely dangerous," said Don. "I heard the fear in that guard's voice when he mentioned the box. Besides, if it was precious, why hide it in such a plain-looking box?"

"To fool thieves?"

"Why? No thief who managed to sneak into a forbidden place would pass by even a plain-looking box, especially if it was the only thing around small enough to carry. No," said Don, "I think we've somehow managed to stumble upon the keeping place of something extremely dangerous, belonging to someone very rich. Which means we should probably get ready to fight a lot of guards. We can hope that they're not used to warriors, though, given how easily Raph dealt with these two. I'd say we can probably fight our way out. Elementary, my dear April."

"But..." April turned to look at the box. "How dangerous could whatever's in this box be? It's so small."

"So's a hand grenade, but that doesn't make it any less lethal."

"Let us focus on our escape, rather than what may or may not be inside this box," said Splinter. "Your logic makes sense, Donatello, but without having seen more of this place for ourselves, we cannot know anything for certain. Now --" He suddenly stiffened for a fraction of a second and turned his head sharply towards the door Raphael had ran out. "Wait! I can hear Raphael yelling!"

"He must have been discovered!" said Don.

"April," said Splinter hurriedly. "Take one of the scimitars," he pointed to the weapons still lying on the floor, "and try to make yourself acquainted with it. If we are not back in five minutes, get out of here any way you can!"

With that, and before April could answer, both Don and Splinter had vanished out the door to come to Raph's aid.

Not five minutes earlier, Raphael was racing down the marble-covered, tapestry-decorated corridor, silent as a shadow, and he couldn't help but feel his spirits lift as he ran. Finally, he was doing something, not just sitting around and waiting or listening to stories. He didn't understand how the others could have the patience to sit through that Mrs. Palmer's sob stories while knowing that Leo was out there and probably in trouble. If Raph had been in charge, there would have been far less talk and far more action in situations like this.

He loved his family and would gladly die for any one of them, but man, could they ever be frustrating at times.

The corridor ended, and Raph found himself in another corridor, running sideways from the one he'd been in, and for the first time since he'd found himself in this crazy marble building, there were windows, huge windows with the same kind of arched top as all the doorways, in a row along the wall -- and with real, actual sunlight streaming in through them.

There didn't seem to be any glass in any of these windows, so with some luck, this could make for an excellent emergency exit.

Taking a quick look around to ensure that there weren't anyone else in the corridor, he scooted up to the closest window to peek out of it.

The building he was in seemed to be on top of a hill or something, overlooking a mass of elaborately-shaped buildings; spires, battlements and balconies en masse, a number of what looked like minarets, and in between it all were zig-zag roads and huge flights of steps, all of which were bustling with crowds of people. The heat of the air stood against him, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of city life, mixed with the scent of oranges and lemons, from all the orange and lemon trees that seemed to grow everywhere there wasn't a street or a building.

Okay, thought Raph, when did I get to Agrabah?

He was just about to lean out a little further and try to judge whether they would be safe climbing down this wall, when he heard noises from down the corridor.

Damn! he thought, looking for a place to hide, only to discover that there weren't any -- at least not in the corridor. He had no time to run down the corridor he'd come up either, so that only left one alternative.

Two seconds later, he was hanging on the outside wall, clinging to the windowsill and hoping that he was less exposed out here than he felt.

This might not'a been my best idea ever, he mused, glancing down and seeing that he was about thirty feet up in the air and directly above an exposed area that seemed to be a garden of some sort, where a huge amount of people -- all dark-skinned and elaborately dressed -- were gathered for what seemed to be a party of some sort. There were musicians and jugglers and drinking and dancing...

...and if even one of them looked up right now, Raph was screwed.

He hadn't even finished thinking the thought before just that happened. A woman's voice came down from the crowd, speaking more or less the exact words he'd been dreading: "O great Tisroc -- may you live forever -- what is that green creature hanging outside that window up there?"

"Great," Raph muttered under his breath as all the people down in the garden stopped whatever they were doing and looked up, a collective gasp going through the crowd. "Brilliant. Thank you so much, fate. Let's not give Raph a break or anything."

"O foul creature!" a man shouted from below, and Raph could see that he was dressed in the same garments as the guards he had knocked down earlier. "What foul deeds brings you to the Palace of the Tisroc -- may he live forever? Speak, beast, and know that the palace guards of the Tisroc --may he live forever -- will slaughter you, should you attempt a deceitful answer!"

"Yeah, hello to you too!" said Raph, deciding to try the diplomatic course first. "I'm just a little lost. Any of you people know how I can get ta Narnia from here?"

There was another collective gasp from the crowd.

One of the people down there -- Raph guessed from the fact that he was even more elaborately dressed than everyone else, and the fact that everyone seemed to shut up immediately when he spoke, that he must be some kind of king or ruler -- raised himself and roared: "Narnia! Narnia! The accursed barbarians of the North! Foul sorcerers and demon-worshipers! Look, my people, look! Now they are sending their demons even to the city of Tashbaan -- even to my own palace to spy and to work their wicked magic! I command you to answer, foul demon! What wicked sorcerer do you obey?!"

Okay, these people are wacko, Raph concluded. No point in even tryin' ta reason with 'em. He swung up on the windowsill, getting to his feet and standing in the window, looking down at the party. "I am the great and powerful demon Raphael!" he shouted. "And in the name of my Master Splinter, beware my wrath! But first -- Bye!"

With that, he jumped back inside and got ready to run back to Splinter and the others.

Only to find himself face-to-face with around ten guards blocking his way. Oh. Right.

"Foul demon!" one of them cried. "You will never get to the deepest secrets of the Tisroc -- may he live forever! You three, run to the sacred chamber and secure the Box of Doom!" he called to three of the guards, who immediately ran down the corridor towards the room with Splinter and the others.

Raph took one look at them, and then -- since their cover was blown anyway -- raised his voice and called out, hoping that it would travel far enough down the corridor that Splinter's keen ears would hear: "MASTER SPLINTER! THE GUARDS ARE COMING!"

"Silence, filthy demon!" the leader of the guards commanded. "Attack him, men!"

Quick as lightning, Raph drew both his sais from his belt. "Yeah, men, attack him!" he agreed, grinning madly as the guards advanced on him.

He hadn't had a decent fight in weeks.

The land of Calormen lies many miles to the southeast of Narnia, a vast desert separating the two countries, and though the far larger Calormen has never yet seriously tried to invade or go to war against the northern lands, the relationship between Narnia and Calormen has always been somewhat uneasy.

Narnians think of the Calormenes as a brutal people divided into oppressors and oppressed with absolutely no middle ground, and the strict Calormen class and caste system (not to mention the common use and ownership of slaves) is viewed with distaste. The Calormenes on their side view the Narnians as uncivilized, savage barbarians and sorcerers who consort with demons and use evil magic (which is exemplified by the large number of Talking Animals, Fauns, Dwarfs, Giants and other "inhuman" creatures up in the north).

Still, many rulers of Calormen -- Tisrocs, as they're called, thought to be descended from the god Tash -- have been quite eager to one day claim Narnia and the northern lands as their own, and when they haven't done so yet, it's mainly for fear of the "foul sorcerers."

April O' Neil, of course, knew nothing of this, although it might have interested her greatly to know that while she was still pretty far away from the country she and the guys was searching for, and probably couldn't have ended up in a worse spot for so-called "Friends of Narnia," she was at least in the same world.

All right, she thought to herself as she picked up the scimitar from the floor and glanced at her watch. Five minutes, and then I go after you. Got it, Splinter.

She swung the weapon testingly around a few times.

While she had been training under Splinter for some time now, and was getting to be quite skilled with the sword, the much shorter, curved blade of the scimitar felt strange and awkward to her. She had mainly practiced (and on occasion, fought) with straight-bladed weapons, and curved blades demand different techniques and strokes.

It wasn't exactly an ideal weapon for her, but it would have to do.

She glanced at her watch. Three more minutes, and then I'm coming after the guys. She moved over to the door, listening intently for the sounds of a fight or running footsteps. Two and a half minute. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear the sound of a fight somewhere in the distance... Three min -- ack!

She hadn't intended to think, or say, "Ack," it's just that this word is often the one that first one that pops into your head when someone sneaks up on you from behind, wraps a sudden arm around your chest, and places a scimitar to your throat.

"Barbarian woman," sneered the voice of the guard. "Drop your blade, or you shall lose your head!"

"Ack," said April, almost involuntarily dropping her weapon and inwardly cursing herself for being distracted by the sounds of the fight instead of checking whether both guards were still unconscious.

"Why are you here, wench, and where is that green creature?" the guard demanded.

April tried to swallow, but found that she couldn't manage. Don't panic, she thought. You've been in worse situations than this. "I'll tell you if you remove that scimitar from my throat," she said.

"You will tell me now!" said the guard. "I see from your skin color that you are one of the accursed barbarians from the North. Have you come here to steal the Box of Doom and bring wicked sorcery down upon us?"

"If I say no, will you let me go?" said April.

The guard laughed, an unpleasant and short laugh. "No."

"All right," said April. "Then I won't feel bad for doing -- this!" And with that, she pulled back from the scimitar as far as she could, at the same time moving her elbow back sharply and hitting the man in the stomach.

Now, if Calormen palace guards had been equipped with proper armor, this move would have been quite useless. But as luck would have it, the Tisroc saw no point in equipping the palace guard with armor, given that no-one in Calormen (for the Calormenes are, on the whole, a law-abiding and Tisroc-fearing people) would ever dare enter the palace uninvited. So actual armor was reserved for the City Watch and the soldiers in the army, whose jobs were more dangerous, while palace guards were provided with fancier cloth uniforms that mirrored their higher rank.

So the guard had no metal breastplate to protect him against April's sudden elbow attack. Neither did he have the necessary protection for her next move, as she took advantage of his being momentary stunned, wrestled free from his grip and kicked him in the groin.

He gasped and sank to his knees, the scimitar falling uselessly to the floor.

April didn't miss a beat. She knew she had to get out of the room and eventually the palace as well, but that there was likely to be more guards out there and that she couldn't be sure to meet up with Splinter and the guys before she met the guards. A scimitar would help her, true, but if Don had been right, there might be something in this room that would help her more.

She rushed into the smaller room, and grabbed the wooden box from the table.

The guard, struggling to get to his feet, gave out a yell of fear. "Not the Box of Doom!"

"That's right," April panted, holding the box to her chest and tensing. "The Box of Doom. Tell me, what should I do with it? Should I open it?!"

"Even a barbarian cannot be that mad!" There was genuine terror on the guard's face. "If that box is opened, the sky will fall on us all!"

Yeah, right, April thought. "You'd be amazed at how mad a barbarian can be," she said out loud. "Now you and I are going to take a trip around this palace, and you're going to help me find my friends, and you're going to warn everyone that we see that the mad barbarian woman has the Box of Doom and won't hesitate to open it if anyone so much as thinks of doing something she doesn't like. Is that clear?"

"The Tisroc -- may he live forever -- will have my head for this! Have pity with a poor man who only does his job and has five sons to feed..."

"Well, it's your choice. What'll it be? Do as I say -- or get crushed by the falling sky?!" April made a motion as if to open the box.

"No!" the guard screamed. "Very well, thrice-damned barbarian! I will do as you say!"

"Then march!" April commanded. She took a quick glance to the side to check if the other guard had stirred yet, but he still lay in a crumpled heap on the floor and didn't look like he was going to wake up for a while. So she picked up the scimitar from the floor, in case she met someone who wasn't afraid of a box; and then, with her newfound prisoner, she marched out of the room and down the marble corridor, towards the sounds of the fight.

Fighting against these guards, Raphael decided, was not unlike fighting your average street punks -- if the street punks had been slightly better organized and didn't have any guns. Just swap the cries of "freak" and "alien" for "demon" and "foul sorcerer," and the dialogue was remarkably similar as well.

His sais flashed like lightning; he spun around, jumped and kicked where he could, feeling his spirits rise even further. There seemed to be no end to the guards, more of them arriving from both ends of the corridor, but luckily for him, just as had it looked like there would be too many of them for him to comfortably deal with, Splinter and Donny had arrived and joined into the fray.

"Isn't this just like you, Raph?" said Don, sending two guards flying with a great swing of his bo. "We leave you alone for five minutes, and you end up in a fight with half the populace!"

"Sorry, I tried ta negotiate," Raph answered, slamming the heavy hilt of one of his sais onto the head of one guard, who immediately lapsed into unconsciousness, "but they thought my demands were too unreasonable!"

"Die, foul demon!" a guard shouted, lounging at Raphael with a scimitar, only to be flipped over by Splinter and landing heavily on his back. Raph took the opportunity to push another guard over him and use both fallen guards as a sort of springboard, somersaulting over the heads of two other guards and sending them tumbling to the ground with another flash of his sais.

This move brought him to the very edge of the melee, which was why he was the first to see April come marching up the corridor, following a terrified-looking guard (whom Raph vaguely recognized as one of the two he'd knocked out just ten minutes or so ago).

"April, stay back!" he warned, but it was too late. One of the guards sent flying by Don's bo crashed into the guard directly in front of April, who toppled and slammed into the woman.

April lost her balance and fell to the ground, and the small wooden box she was carrying slipped out of her hand and hit the floor about the same time as she did, bouncing once as its lid sprung open.

And then -- Raph wasn't quite sure how it happened, but smoke, red smoke, welled up from the open box, expanding and swirling and shaping itself in mid-air, until it took on the shape of a woman. And all of a sudden, just as if reality or Raph's perception of it had shifted, it was a woman; living and breathing, with dark skin and wearing what was unmistakably a harem girl's outfit -- complete with a bare midriff and semi-see-through pants -- in red silk.

Raph almost dropped his sais in surprise, and would have been attacked by the closest guard if said guard hadn't also caught glimpse of the smoke-to-woman transformation.

"L-lady Asheena?!" said the guard.

The woman looked momentarily dizzy, as if she was coming out of some deep trance, and stared uncertainly at the scene in front of her.

Then, she seemed to come more into focus, glared at all the fighting guards and mutants, and with an irritated expression on her face, snapped her fingers.

Immediately, the fight stopped, all its participants -- guards, Don and Splinter -- frozen into their battle positions, still like statues.

"I do apologize," the woman muttered. "I just cannot deal with huge fights just after waking up like that." Then, she looked over April, Raph and the few guards who had escaped the freeze and were now gaping at her with astounded expressions. "Well," she said, looking resigned. "Which one of you was it that opened the box?"

"Ah... me?" said April in a small voice. "But it was an accident, I didn't mean --" she cut herself off as the harem girl dropped to her knees in front of her, bowing her head.

"O my Mistress," she said. "Your humble servant obeys you. What is your wish?"

The third thing Michelangelo noticed after his vision returned was that Susan Palmer was lying at his feet, on her back, unconscious and unmoving.

The second thing was that none of the others seemed to be around, apart from Klunk, who was still in his arms and gazing around with big cat eyes.

The first thing was that they were no longer in Susan's over-filled apartment, but under a clear, blue sky, on a gentle and gradual slope with an orderly row of trees on one side and a sandy shore with a calmly roaring ocean on the other, and no sign of a house or car or cloud of smog or anything that even hinted of New York City.

"Whoa..." for a moment, it was all Mike could do to keep himself from falling over in sheer astonishment. But then, he came to his senses. No, his mind told him. There'll be plenty of time to wonder what the heck happened later. There's an unconscious woman by your feet, deal with that before you do anything else.

Anxiously, he put Klunk down on the ground before kneeling beside the unconscious Susan.

"What's happened to her?" said the cat, sniffing at the woman's fingers.

"Dunno," said Mike, hearing how worried his own voice sounded. "Hope she's not -- nah, she's breathing... and a steady pulse too..." He breathed a sigh in relief, but only a small one. What was wrong with her? Had she simply fainted after the strain of going all, uh, Queen, or was it something more serious?

"So where are we?" said Klunk, looking around. "And where are all the others? Splinter?!" he called. "Raph? Donny? Apriiiil!"

There was no answer.

"Looks like we're alone here, buddy," said Mike anxiously. "Looks like that light... whatever it was... either just took us since we were closest to Mrs. Palmer when she started going all Queenish, or it took the others and sent them somewhere else."

"Like where?"

"No idea. Hope they're all right, though." Mike swallowed, looking down at Susan again. "Man, what I wouldn't give to have Splinter or Donny here right now. They'd know what to do with a fainted woman." Mike tried to think -- wasn't it something about turning them over to their side, so they wouldn't choke on their tongues, or something?

He reached out, grabbing her arm and shoulders and began to turn her.

"Step away from the Lady, fiend!" a sudden voice ordered; a small but stern voice filled with a cross demanding.

Mike instinctively let go of Susan, who rolled limply back on her back, and looked up to see one of the strangest things he had ever seen outside daytime TV: A large mouse, standing on its hind legs and with a white feather stuck behind one of its ears. In its paw, it held a miniature rapier that seemed to be glowing with a soft, pulsating light.

"What the...!" said Mike, astonished.

"Step away from the Queen," the mouse repeated. "If you are friends, I shall not harm you -- but if you seek to harm so much as a hair on Her Majesty's head, you shall find that decades of bathing in liquid light has not taken the sting off my blade!"

"Look, I --" Mike began, but was suddenly interrupted by Klunk.

"Go nibble on a bit of cheese, why don't ya?!" The cat was arching his back and fluffing out his tail, glaring at the mouse (who was easily larger than him). "We're not afraid of a mouse with a glowing toothpick!"

"Excuse me?" The mouse looked furious.

"I told you to go stick your head in a mousetrap!"

"Uh, Klunk..." said Mike, making 'quit it' motions with his hands. He'd had no idea that his cat could be so... Raph-like when faced with a weapon.

The mouse was right in front of Klunk in the flash of an eye, holding the rapier dangerously close. "Be grateful, vermin, that my business here is only with the Queen, or I should have been more than happy to teach you a thing or two on how to properly address a Mouse!" (He pronounced it, impossibly enough, with an audible capital latter.) "Now, for the last time! Stand aside, unless you will --"

"Whoa, wait, wait," said Mike, scooping a struggling Klunk up in his arms. "You know that she's the Queen?"

"Of course," said the Mouse in a dignified way. "I have been sent here by the Lion himself to tend to her in her time of need, like my people once tended to him in his!"

"Look, this is obviously some sorta mistake," said Mike hurriedly. "We're with her. Or, I mean, we're here to..." he paused, realizing that he had no idea why they were here. "Look, we don't want anything bad to happen to her, either!"

"Then do stand aside and let me tend to her," said the Mouse, a little calmer but still glaring suspiciously at Klunk.

"Don't let him do it!" the cat hissed. "I'm the Chosen of Aslan, not him! You can't trust a mouse as far as you can throw it!"

The Mouse's expression changed a little, though not much. "My humblest apologies, Cat," he said in a voice that didn't sound particularly humble or apologetic. "I did not realize you were completely insane. There is no honor in fighting the delusional -- though if you refuse to let me tend to the Queen in her need, I will make an exception!"

"Well," said Mike. "Not to be disrespectful or anything, but how do we know you're not gonna hurt her?"

"How do I know that you aren't?" the Mouse countered. "Aslan told me only to go and tend to the Queen, he said nothing whatsoever about turtle-like creatures who try carrying her off --"

"I wasn't gonna carry her off!"

"--and rude felines. But if you truly are on the side of the Queen and the Lion, swear to me now that you will not do, and have not done, anything to harm Her Majesty!"

"We swear," said Mike immediately. "Don't we, Klunk?"

"I'll swear if he swears," Klunk answered, who seemed just as suspicious of the Mouse as the Mouse was of him.

"Very well." The Mouse raised his glowing rapier to the sky. "I swear upon my honor, upon my tail, and upon Aslan himself, that I seek no harm to the Queen."

"That good enough for you?" said Mike.

Klunk nodded slowly, and didn't protest when Mike stepped aside to let the Mouse go up to the still unconscious Susan.

"Thank you," said the Mouse courteously. He swung his rapier around and then, to Mike's surprise, plucked out of thin air what looked like a little piece of red-hot coal. It didn't seem to be burning him at all, but before Mike could speculate on what the reason might be (it might have had something to do with the glowing rapier), the mouse had dropped the coal into Susan's open mouth.

Klunk twisted and wrestled himself out of Mike's arms, landing on the ground and running up to the Mouse. "Are you crazy? Whatcha go and make her eat hot coal for? As if she wasn't in a bad enough situation as it was?! And you swore by your tail that --"

And then, a loud gasp from Susan made them all turn and look at her.

She had opened her eyes, and was now staring up at the sky with an astonished expression on her face.

Mike leant over her. "Mrs. Palmer?" he said. "You okay?"

Very slowly, she nodded. "I... think so. What happened?"

"You're telling me that the red-hot coal actually made her better?!" said Klunk in a disbelieving voice. "Why didn't anyone tell me that coal had healing powers?! I can think of at last a dozen situations where knowing that would have come in handy --"

"Don't display your ignorance," said the Mouse, glaring at him. "That was a fire-berry from the valleys of the Sun."

"A what from the valleys of where?"

Susan slowly raised herself into a sitting position, staring at the mouse. For a long time, she said nothing, just staring at it with increasingly wide eyes, while the mouse seemed to momentarily forget its quarrel with Klunk and instead bowed deeply and elegantly.

"Your Majesty," it said. "I am proud and delighted to meet you again."

"...Reepicheep?" said Susan, in a voice barely above a whisper. "Is that really you?"

Mike and Klunk looked at each other, and almost simultaneously mouthed: "Reepicheep?!"

"Indeed, your Majesty!" The mouse straightened itself and smiled widely. "Reepicheep, former Chief of the Talking Mice of Narnia. I'm honored that your Majesty has not forgotten me."

"Believe me... you're not someone a person forgets easily." Susan shook her head, but with a faint smile upon her lips. "So, the photograph did work. Am I -- are we," she added, glancing at Mike and Klunk, "back in Narnia?"

But Reepicheep looked solemnly up at her. "Aslan once told your Majesty that you would never return to the land of Narnia, and your Majesty should know as well as anyone that Aslan never lies. And I," he straightened himself, "have sworn never to return to Narnia's shores. I'm sorry, your Majesty, but this is not Narnia."

Susan's face was a mask of disappointment that quickly changed to one of concern and anxiousness. "Where are we, then? And -- why did you swear never to return to Narnia? Has something happened?"

"Many things," said Reepicheep. "But worry not about Narnia. The story behind my oath is a long and complicated one, not swiftly told. I would have thought that your royal siblings, King Edmund and Queen Lucy, might have told you about it."

"They..." Susan paused. The emotion drained from her face and she was once again an old, mournful woman. "They might have, but I didn't... I didn't want to..." She sighed heavily. "Lucy and Edmund... they died a long time ago. Along with Peter, and... everybody. There's only me left. And I'm old now... Too old."

Reepicheep placed a gentle paw on her knee. "As long as one is alive, your Majesty, one is never too old. And death is never enough to part you from your loved ones. We shall all meet in Aslan's country when the time is right for it."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. But there are things to be done here and now, and your Majesty is the one who must do them. Can you walk?"

As Susan nodded and got to her feet, Klunk whispered to Mike: "You really think we should trust him?"

"Mrs. Palmer knows him," Mike whispered back. "Besides, he fed her that... that... whatever it was, and she looks a whole lot better now, doesn't she?"

"But -- he's a mouse!"

"So? Master Splinter's a rat, and ya never had any problems with him."

"Of course not. I don't mind rats. But mice? They're horrible! Always tormenting poor cats, dropping anvils in their heads, hitting them with frying pans, blowing them up with dynamite..."

Mike couldn't help laughing. "Donny was right... we really need to start being more careful with what we watch on TV when you're around! Klunk, buddy, Tom and Jerry isn't real! It's just a cartoon! 'Sides, we don't really have much of an alternative, do we? He's the only one who knows where this place is, so he's prolly the only one who can help us get back to the others... and maybe even find Leo!"

Klunk didn't look like he was completely convinced. "All the same, if that mouse starts reaching for a frying pan, I'm gonna have his hide -- no matter if he was sent by Aslan or not."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's notes: Klunk vs. Reepicheep -- it had to happen! (Of course, Reep would have won the fight quite easily, so Klunk was lucky that Mike intervened.) Really, when I started out writing this I knew I had to use Reepicheep somehow, but I didn't want to contradict the canon of the books too badly -- and canon states that the valiant Mouse sailed East to Aslan's country and never returned to Narnia. But then, when Reepicheep makes a cameo in The Last Battle, it's mentioned very specifically that he carries a sword -- but he threw his sword away at the end of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I suppose he could have gotten a new one in Aslan's country, but still... here was a tiny little plot hole that I could exploit. Was it possible that Reepicheep had made one last return to the world and gotten his sword back?

Then I got to think about what might happen to a sword that had spent several decades half-buried in the waters of the Utter it had been normal water, the sword would have rusted, but this water was described by Reepicheep as "drinkable light." And really, the idea of Reepicheep with a glowing sword with mystical (possibly holy) properties was too fascinating not to use.

As fun as it is to write Reepicheep, though, even more interesting (to me) is the part of the story that happens in Calormen. There'll be more on the so-called Box of Doom and the Tisroc -- who is not going to live forever whether I want him to or not -- and this strange woman, Asheena, later on.

In the next chapter, however, we'll get to know more about the Red Lady, and see Leo start on his mission for King Rilian.