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 SEVEN:
The Witch, the Hag and the Werewolf

King Rilian had originally planned on coming along to find the Red Lady, claiming that it would be a poor King who stayed behind in safety while sending an honored guest out on a perilous journey, but Puddleglum had managed to talk him out of it.

"Begging your pardon, Sire, but it's all in the best interest of the country that you stay here," the Marsh-wiggle had said, with his customary gloomy expression. "What with the Witches and the Werewolves and Aslan knows what else out there, it's the duty of the King to put the interest of his country first. You are the only King we have! The castle might collapse or we might suddenly run out of food and starve to death or that your Majesty might get sick and die, but at least you're in a good position avoid being mauled by wild animals or having a tree fall on you -- or meeting that Witch, whoever she may be."

"Puddleglum," the King had sighed, "a mother hen would have accused you of being too overprotective." But he had finally agreed to stay behind.

When Leonardo had respectfully declined the use of a horse, Moorwin had finally offered to accompany him as his guide to the forest. To everyone's relief, the Turtle had welcomed her company -- although the King had taken taken her aside shortly before the departure and begged her to be careful.

"It's with a heavy heart I send you out," he'd said. "Though I trust you to guide Master Leonardo truly, and I trust him to be valiant in battle, I do not like sending a loyal subject -- much less a good friend -- out on what may be a dangerous journey. I shall count the days until you, Aslan be willing, return safely to Cair Paravel."

And so, it was a thoughtful Moorwin who returned to the forest with her new companion -- at a considerably slower pace than the journey to Cair Paravel had been.

In some ways, she supposed it wouldn't have done much harm to let Leonardo go on alone on this trip at all. He certainly seemed to be the type to manage perfectly well on his own, no matter where fate might send him, but she had promised King Rilian that she would stay by the Turtle's side. And not only was it unthinkable for a true-blooded Narnian to break a promise to her King, but Moorwin's family had been special friends to the Royal family ever since her Grandfather commanded King Caspian's army in the fight against Miraz the Usurper.

In fact, Moorwin had always been very fond of King Rilian, even on a more personal level. They had been occasional playmates when they were younger, and even now, when they were both grown, she thought of him with great fondness and -- well, yes, love. Of course, she knew very well that he was a Son of Adam and she a Centauress, and that there could never be anything more between them than friendship, but still...

Still, she hastened to correct herself, there was no point in daydreaming like a little foal about things that could never happen. It was much better to concentrate on the task that lay ahead of her.

"Moorwin," said Leo, calling her out of her thoughts, "how many people, or animals, or Centaurs, live in the forest? I forgot to ask the King."

"I... can't tell you the exact number," she answered, pretending that she had paid attention all along. " Forest-dwellers are not easily counted. Thousands, at least. Why are you asking?"

"Just wondering if it was possible to get the message out to all of them," said Leo. "Someone must have seen those Werewolves after they ran from us... I was hoping we might get some information that could lead us to their current whereabouts."

"I see," said Moorwin slowly. "Well, upon my word, if you want to know the latest gossip of the forest, Portly would be the person to talk to."

Leo smiled. "I'm not surprised. Anyone who likes to talk that much has to be pretty well-informed... Assuming he lets people get a word in edgewise."

"I think we had better see my Grandfather first of all, though," said Moorwin. "This will interest him greatly, and he may have some advice for us."

Truth be told, she was rather anxious to see Glenstorm again -- even if it hadn't been all that long since she left him, quite a few things had happened since then, and she really wanted his perspective on the new development. Who knew, maybe he had even seen something in the stars about this Red Lady character.

The Red Lady sighed and toyed with the ruby on her necklace.

Why did everything have to be so difficult? It had only been a couple of days since she first heard the reports of that green-skinned creature who had somehow seen through her enchantments and killed two of her werewolves, but already this creature was making more complications for her. Thanks to him, Cair Paravel was now guarded so well, and by so many eyes, that not even her stealthiest subjects, aided by her subtlest magics, could get in undetected.

And the green creature was still out there. Whispers around the forest and the countryside informed her that he had pledged his alliance to king Rilian and had vowed to find and probably destroy her, the Red Lady. Normally, she wouldn't have been too concerned about this, for a Witch -- especially an immortal and ageless one -- makes many enemies in her long life, and so far she had been able to deal with most of her enemies.

But this green creature... if he really was an agent of Aslan, he would probably mean a lot more trouble. That wretched Lion tended to choose agents that were far more dangerous than they seemed at first glance -- for example, you wouldn't have guessed that the four children that first stumbled so helplessly into Narnia during the Hundred-Year Winter would turn out to be four of the most dangerous opponents ever, ancient prophecy or not. And who could forget the two children and the Marsh-wiggle from just a few years back? The Red Lady had seen them with her own eyes, however briefly, and they were so weak and pitiful that she could have destroyed them all with a flick of her wrist; and yet they had toppled the mighty underground empire of her sister, the Lady in Green.

But then again, the Red Lady thought to herself, my sister always was a bit of an idiot. Going around and turning herself into snakes, as if that ever helped anyone. She giggled as a new thought struck her. I bet she looked incredibly silly when she died. Here she was, having survived for more than a thousand years after the Hundred-Year Winter, plotting in secrecy and just getting ready to take over Narnia... and then: Ooops, dead because of two babies and a frogface!

She laughed heartily at this, imagining the dumbstruck face of her sister in her last moments. Maybe she'd even turned into a snake, and the look of a snake in embarrassment and shock had to be something worth seeing. The Red Lady was almost sorry she'd missed that.

And yet, she mused as her mirth died, she was my sister, and I am under an obligation of honor to avenge her and preferably see to it that her plans of conquest of all Narnia are honored and carried out. What a drag.

To comfort herself, she held the ruby up in front of her face to admire her reflection in the shiny red surface for a while. It was a heartening sight-- pale and unclear and not at all as good as it would have been in a proper mirror, true, but the radiant beauty was obvious enough to lift her spirits considerably.

She really was pretty, she thought with great satisfaction. No, she was more than pretty, she was gorgeous. Why, even the fabled Queen Swanwhite from long ago, whom the legends claimed was "so beautiful that if her face were reflected in a pool the image of her face remained for a year and a day," would have appeared as plain and unattractive next to the Red Lady. (Not that the Red Lady's reflection ever remained behind her, of course, but whoever believed in those old legends anyway?)

No, the Red Lady suddenly thought, she really couldn't sit around and just admire herself now. There was work to be done, plans to be made, annoying green creatures to be taken care of. She winked coquettishly to her reflection before tearing herself away from it, instead clutching the ruby and commanding: "I want the Captain of the Werewolves here. Now. Oh, and he's to bring that old woman, Ylgameth," she added almost as an afterthought.

The ruby glowed for a brief moment, as if in acknowledgement.

Not two minutes later, two people entered her throne room; one was the Captain of the Werewolves, in his human form, and the other, being pulled along, was an old, white-haired and remarkably ugly woman. The latter met the Red Lady's eyes immediately, her face filled with barely-hidden contempt -- but at least it also contained some of the proper submission that a weaker person should show when faced with a superior.

"You called us, M'Lady," said the Werewolf, bowing without letting go of the old woman's hand.

"Yes, I did," said the Red Lady, acknowledging them both with a short nod. "I called you here because you're the most loyal and the brightest of all my Werewolves, and I asked you to bring the old woman because I, however much I might dislike most of the idiotic things she say, might need her council."

"M'Lady," said the old woman, managing to make it sound almost like an insult. Immediately, she gave a shriek of pain.

"None of your cheek, Ylgameth" said the Red Lady, clutching her ruby and delighting in seeing the ugly old woman doubling over with the agony. "You don't like me and I don't like you, but I'm still the youngest and the last -- and the most beautiful -- of the Northern Witches, and you will respect me as such. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

"Perfectly... M'Lady...!" Ylgameth managed to say.

"Good." The Red Lady let go of the ruby, and watched the old woman steady herself, breathing in relief. "And with that out of the way, I have been thinking about this green creature that's been stopping my plans. We don't know much about him, other than that he's apparently capable of seeing through my invisibility enchantments, and a skilled enough fighter to take on three werewolves on his own. Where did he come from, and what does he want?"

"If you would just heed my council, M'Lady, we wouldn't need to bother with the green creature," said Ylgameth.

The Red Lady glared at her. "For the very last time," she said (although she knew she had said this 'for the very last time' at least ten times before), "I am not going to call Jadis back to life."

"With all due respect, M'Lady," said Ylgameth, with very little actual respect, "Queen Jadis was the first, the oldest and the most powerful Witch of Narnia. She alone had the power to gather all the dark creatures of this world: The Cruels, the Succubi and the Incubi, the Wraiths, the Efreets, the Orknies..."

"I know, I know, you don't have to list them all."

"The point is, only the White Witch could unite them. When she died, the only ones who remained loyal to the Northern Witches were the Hags and the Werewolves. Even the Black Dwarfs are refusing to have anything to do with you anymore. Your sister made an attempt, at least, by trying to get the Giants back as our allies, and the enslavement of the Gnomes and Salamanders, but now that she is dead, all her attempts are for naught."

"And good riddance, I say," the Red Lady snorted. "The Giants are idiots, the Gnomes are cowards and the Salamanders are useless. I can't even begin to imagine what my sister saw in them in the first place. And besides," she added, glaring at Ylgameth, "I wouldn't call too much attention to the situation of the Dwarfs, if I was you. It was your fault that we lost them to begin with!"

"I was merely trying to get something done, M'Lady. The plan was flawless. Miraz the Usurper --"

"Miraz the Usurper has been dead for decades, and so has just about everyone else who was involved in that idiotic plan of yours!" snapped the Red Lady. "I'm not stupid. I know perfectly well that when a Witch is called back to life she's so furious that she kills everyone around her. But you neglected to inform that Black Dwarf of that little detail, didn't you? Remember how his kinsmen took it when they found out that his life would have been forfeit even if the ritual had succeeded? No, Ylgameth, there will be no further attempts at calling Jadis. I see no reason to waste the lives of perfectly good Werewolves and Hags, not to mention myself. Is that clear?"

"M'Lady..." Ylgameth's voice turned sweet, soothing and pleasant, all hostility and loathing suddenly vanishing. "I beg you to reconsider..." She didn't get any further before falling to her knees and shrieking in pain.

The Red Lady looked at her with a stern expression as she continued clutching her ruby. "I said, is that clear?!"

"Obey the Red Lady, Hag," snarled the Werewolf. "We are both her sworn subjects, and we will follow no-one but her! M'Lady," he added, glancing up with bloodlust in his eyes. "Permission to teach her an extra lesson?"

"Permission denied," said the Red Lady, and after a bit of inner debate loosening the grip on her ruby. "That is, unless she continues to nag like this. Well?" she added, looking at Ylgameth, who was still on the floor and gasping.

"M'Lady," said the Werewolf when it became clear that the Hag was too out of breath to speak at the moment. "If you will permit me to say so, the green creature can surely be disposed of quite easily. I hear he's on his way back to the forest as we speak, far away from the protection of Cair Paravel." He grinned toothily. "Even he would not be able to fight against fifty Werewolves."

"You would do that for me? You're so sweet," the Red Lady cooed. "Of course, you are all completely in my power and would suffer horrible, horrible pain if you dared resisting me, but it's nice of you to offer to do it of your own free will, all the same." She blew him a kiss. "But I don't think that's the way to go. We've seen what might happen when these agents of Aslan try fighting back. And he seems to be resistant to my magic as well, or at least he can see through my illusions. I wouldn't want to risk it without some kind of back-up plan."

"Wait..." said Ylgameth from the floor, struggling to raise herself and failing. "Here's an... idea... for you... All you have to do is... put the green creature... under the same spell that you had... intended for the King. No-one could stand against that spell."

"I would need a part of him for that, you idiot," said the Red Lady. "A tooth, some skin scrapings, a fingernail... or does he even have fingernails? I'm not sure. But I'd need some small part of him here, with me, for the spell to work. For that matter, I need a part of the King as well, and I don't have that either. Why do you think I sent the werewolves to Cair Paravel to begin with? But now Cair Paravel is impossible to get to for even our most savage warriors or powerful spell-workers, and the idea is completely and utterly useless. Thank you for your horribly bad advice."

"Put a spell... on someone else," said Ylgameth, who was recovering and talking a little more easily now. "Someone inconspicuous... someone you can put under your control and send to Cair Paravel."

"Hmm." The Red Lady paused in thought. "And the green creature?"

"Surely... it wouldn't be hard to get that small piece of him... once he is back in the forest."

The Red Lady sighed, but finally nodded. "All right. But if we're doing this, we'll do it the proper way. Captain... gather the troops and make the preparations. You're both dismissed."

"My pleasure, M'lady," said Ylgameth, sarcasm dripping from every syllable as she retreated from the room, following the Captain.

The Red Lady allowed herself a small sigh. Ylgameth had really been such a pain ever since she had entered the Red Lady's service five years ago, with her constant whining about how they should resurrect Jadis. But she was the oldest and wisest (though not by any means the most powerful) of the Hags, so she was handy to keep around in case some good advice was ever needed.

Ylgameth didn't realize this, of course, but it would have been the easiest thing in the world for the Red Lady to wipe her mind, make her forget everything about Jadis and her obsession with resurrecting her: The problem was that she couldn't have done it without at the same time removing a good part of her experience and wisdom.

And that had actually been pretty good advice, even if Ylgameth couldn't have known just how good. After all, very few Hags and Werewolves knew the real reason why they, unlike all the other former members of Jadis's army, stayed loyal to the dwindling Witch Clan... It was old magic. Get a small piece of someone -- a strand of hair, a tooth, a fingernail -- and you've got them under your control. And Werewolves shedded like mad, and Hags needed to cut their nails approximately once a week.

The Red Lady stroked her ruby, almost as if it was a beloved pet, and went back to admiring her pale reflection. A very beautiful and very evil grin had appeared on the reflection's gorgeous face, and its eyes twinkled with mirth and mischief.

"You are so cute when you're scheming," she lovingly told the reflection, being rewarded with the look of mutual adoration.

Yes... she thought gleefully. I think I have an idea on how to do this... with any luck, I'll be able to deal with both the green creature and the King all in one stroke.

Of all the Centaurs in Narnia's forests, none were more respected or revered than Glenstorm, previously General of the Old Narnian Army, personal friend to King Rilian and to King Caspian before him. Though he was getting on in years, even for a Centaur, Glenstorm was still clear of mind, and widely considered a source of wisdom and advice, though he himself would argue that particular point.

"What I know, I learn from the skies," he said. "The stars provide all answers; my role is simply to read them."

And for nearly two hundred years, he had done exactly that, and the stars had revealed their secrets to him time and again. They had told him of the fall of Miraz the Usurper and the rise of Caspian the Tenth; they had warned of great tragedy and peril for young Prince Rilian shortly before his mother, the Queen, died -- but after the Prince had vanished, they had also spoken of hope and of aid from unexpected places.

Now, they were speaking to him of great danger and even greater confusion. They spoke of old enemies resurfacing in new ways, of vengeance and betrayal, of deceit and despair -- but also of revelations and justice, of great heroics and greater love. They spoke of choices that had to be made, that could change the entire world, and of events being set in motion which would have profound effects on both past and future, beyond what even he could see.

Following Moorwin's departure for Cair Paravel together with the otherworldly traveller, Leonardo, Glenstorm had watched the sky closely, and poured over his star-charts and books to see if he could find out whether this meant that his Granddaughter would be pulled into the upcoming events, and if so, what part she might play in them.

What he found was both clarifying and confusing all at once. The charts he'd drawn up for Moorwin did not directly confirm or deny that she would get involved in the events that were to follow, but they did speak of hardships and trials, of great losses but also great victories, and most of all of changes.

Whatever Moorwin was going to go through, it would change her greatly, though Glenstorm couldn't say how. He knew that while the stars never lied, they would seldom tell the whole story. Still -- it was a Grandfather's right and priveliege to worry about his Granddaughter, and he was determined to find out all that he could.

And with that in mind, he packed a few of his most important star-charts in his satchel and set out for Aslan's How, where he hoped he would find the answers he was seeking.

If he'd waited a while longer, he might have been home when Leonardo and Moowin came to call on him, and the story might have turned out quite differently -- which just goes to prove that even a Centaur might make very grave mistakes every now and then.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's notes: And so we find out a bit more abut the Red Lady -- she's the younger sister of the Lady in the Green Kirtle (in this story most commonly referred to as simply "The Lady in Green"), the villainess of The Silver Chair.

It's a semi-popular theory, based on Nikabrik's attempted rescurrection of the White Witch in Prince Caspian, that the Lady in the Green Kirtle was in fact the White Witch called back to life -- a theory at least partly supported by the fact that they're played same actress in the BBC TV series -- but I never quite bought into that; they strike me as two very different people. So, for the purpose of this story at least, the Lady in Green was another Witch, younger and not as powerful, who was present among the evil creatures in Jadis's army and among the few survivors of the final battle. Of course, if the White Witch and the Lady in Green were not the same, I did want to at least explain why nobody had brought the White Witch back if it was so possible... But I think I managed to give an at least semi-plausible reason here: Anyone who tried would effectively have ended up dead. It seems like poor Nikabrik was being played for a fool all along.

A reviewer called Elizabeth commented on my portrayal of Aslan, but since the review wasn't signed I can't answer it with a private message -- so I'll answer her questions here: I wasn't trying to undermine Aslan's "true form and personality," and I actually try very hard not to contradict the Christian overtones in the character. In my original draft of the story I had him make a reference to Narnia as "one of my worlds," but removed it because it made it seem like he only ruled over a limited number of worlds, and that does go against canon. I never wanted to say "Aslan is not Jesus," because, well, he is. But at the same time I didn't want to directly say "Aslan is Jesus" either, because to me that goes against his portrayal in the books. Lewis hinted at it many times, yes, but none of the stories, not even The Last Battle, ever used the name Jesus or directly mentioned the Christian religion.

To me, Aslan works best if he remains a slightly mysterious character, one that shouldn't be explained or examined too closely... I find it very telling that in the books he hardly ever introduces himself by name; we're almost always told his name by other characters. Even in A Horse and his Boy, where Shasta directly asks Aslan who he is, Aslan simply replies "Myself." And that's how I try to write Aslan: He's the Lion, and he is Good, and you don't really need further explanations. But if you want to read him as Jesus, and King of All Worlds, there shouldn't be anything in this story that contradicts that.

Elizabeth also asked about the Turtles' signature colors, and, well, that did make me think a little. This story, as originally conceived, was written for Stealthy Stories, which is a TMNT discussion/fanfic community. I knew that several of the members there were not very familiar with the Narnia books, which is why I've spent so much time on introducing Narnian concepts and history in this story: For several of my original readers, this was their first introduction to Narnia, and I wanted them to discover it along with the Turtles in the story.

Somewhere along the way, though, this seems to have become more a Narnia story that happens to star the TMNT, rather than a TMNT story that takes place in Narnia... if that makes any sense. And after I've started revising and posting the story here, it seems like I'm getting a few readers from the other side of the fandom, who are familiar with Narnia but not so much with the Turtles. Hopefully the Turtles don't need all that much introduction (after all, some of C.S. Lewis's protagonists don't really get much introduction before they go into Narnia either...) But, I'll be happy to give you their signature colors:

Leonardo (the leader) -- Blue.
Michelangelo (the wisecracking goofball) -- Orange.
Donatello (the smart guy) -- Purple.
Raphael (the hotheaded rebel) -- Red.

Hope that helps. And now that this impossibly long edition of the author's notes is over... Next chapter, we'll return to Calormen and see what happens in the palace of the Tisroc, and get the real story behind the so-called "Box of Doom."