Creeping Death
Zia was on patrol the night it happened.
Darkness had long since descended over Narnia, although the usual peace remained inexplicably absent. Something sinister lurked in the still shadows – an unknown entity that made Zia glad of the bow resting snugly across her back. Only the crunch of her footfalls and the gentle sound of her breaths coming and going interrupted the eerie quiet – which was what unnerved Zia the most.
Picking her way over tree roots and guided only by the weak glow of a gibbous moon, Zia allowed her thoughts to wander. Lapse in concentration was risky on a night like this - danger could present itself at any moment – but she felt nauseous from the qualms that churned her stomach. Perhaps a distraction wouldn't go amiss.
Randomly, she thought back to that Solstice evening four years ago - the mark of her childhood's end. The memory of sitting on the cool sand by the lagoon was vague and hazy in places. Empress Nina's fierce blue eyes and the luminous Solstice moon were the most prominent features of the scene she conjured in her head.
Since then, Zia had grown in ways she'd never even thought upon before. She was still slender and delicately built, giving the impression that her spine could be snapped like a twig. Save the improved muscle definition on her upper arms developed from handling a bow, not much had changed physically. The major transformation was taking place inside her mind - she was becoming a true Dryad Guardian and Knight of the Forest.
Over the years, she had been instructed in the ways of protecting the innocent and healing the wounded, knowing when to lead and when to follow, when to listen and when to be heard, and masking any raucous urges with a placid expression and unwavering patience (this was the part she'd found most difficult). She was still learning but had already acquired admirable levels of skill, proving herself to be a quick learner and able pupil.
These assets had not come without hard work. Archery, in particular, had proved to be more arduous than she'd bargained for - as the Empress had warned.
Autumn steadily inched its way through the forest, painting over the green canvas with striking shades of gold and red. Zia's clan began to prepare for the oncoming winter. They saw it as their duty to assist the creatures (both Talking and not) in gathering enough food and preparing their homes so that they would be sustained through the upcoming months.
Zia had been let off helping out this year. Instead, she found herself standing in the middle of the archers' training ground. It was essentially a large clearing with several sturdy targets set out along one side, evenly spaced to minimize chances of accidental injury. Zia was steered rather vigorously towards one right in the centre by her teacher, Sayalla. Sayalla's build was more of a battle-hardened, experienced knight than a graceful archer – she stood stocky and solid as an oak. Her jaw was square and her mouth firmly set. Dirty blonde hair tried desperately to make an escape from the tight bun scraped at the top of her head. Yet, somehow, Sayalla's features succeeded in appearing just as attractive as the next Dryad in the clan. Nevertheless, her presence was much more intense and fierce. Zia was instantly nervous of her.
Sayalla handed her a slightly battered training bow. Her eyes were greenish brown in colour and ever so slightly squinty. They ran the length of Zia's body, palpably taking the whole of her in. The scrutiny was uncomfortable – Zia shifted anxiously from foot to foot, unable to glare back as she normally would have.
"Chin up, child," Sayalla ordered. The command was so sudden that Zia instantly snapped to attention. "An archer never looks down at the ground. How in Aslan's name do you hope to aim?" Zia opened her mouth to protest but Sayalla barked, "The first rule of archery - never lose focus on your target. You lose focus, you miss. Got that?"
Angrily, Zia nodded. She did not like this woman one bit.
"And don't scowl," Sayalla added. "Archers must always appear respectful and proud."
Zia's fingers tightened around the bow.
Although Sayalla was a little brutal, she was a good teacher. First she instructed Zia on how to correctly hold the bow – this part she managed to grasp almost straight away. Next, Sayalla showed her how to stand: sideways on to the target, knees strong but supple, chin always up. Zia was made to practise her stance over and over until she could do it without thinking. By this time, Zia was ready to take the bow and hurl it at Sayalla as hard as she could. It was only after four or five lessons that she was finally permitted to actually try to hit the target. At first it seemed impossible – her arms were too weak and her fingers too stiff to effectively grip the string and draw it back. Her arrows largely ended up falling uselessly to the ground, and were sometimes followed by the bow itself. Zia tried uncommonly hard to hold back her temper, fearing Sayalla's reaction if she lost control of it, but eventually it all got on top of her and she couldn't take it any longer.
"That's it!" she screamed, hurling the bow down in fury. "I give up! This is positively unfeasible. I'll never be able to do it!"
She poised to bring her foot down on the helpless bow and crack it in half under her heel but Sayalla glowered at her in such a way that she froze, foot still in mid-air. Sayalla had been a teacher for going on two centuries and was used to dealing with amateurs - particularly teenaged ones - but never had she met anyone as explosive as Zia.
"Child," she growled through gritted teeth. "If you break that bow, I swear by the Lion's Mane you will regret doing so."
Zia gulped. Sayalla's even but powerful tone and the lethal expression on her face was enough to completely dry up her throat. Shakily, she lowered her foot. Her muscles tensed – something in Sayalla's posture told her to prepare for a fight but the woman made no move towards her.
"Pick up the bow," she commanded, still in the same quiet, even tone. Volcanoes erupted behind Sayalla's eyes; to disobey now would be like walking right into a lion's den.
Swallowing hard, Zia did as Sayalla said. She cradled the bow against her chest like it was a small child, utterly ashamed of what she'd done.
"Now, I'll ask you nicely, once, to stop behaving like a baby," said Sayalla, gazing at her levelly. "You are a respectable young lady and I suggest you act like one. If you choose to disgrace yourself like that again, there will be severe consequences."
Zia nodded. For the first time, she found herself subdued to the point of speechlessness.
Back in the present, Zia allowed herself a small, private smile. Although she'd hated Sayalla steadily for months after that incident, she hadn't dared step out of line. She'd also found that with obedience came gentler tones and, after that, a mutual respect between teacher and pupil that allowed Zia's progress to make a rapid ascent. A year ago she had been shocked when Sayalla had presented her with a gift - her very own dwarf-made bow. Sayalla had said that perhaps they had both learned something from the other as she passed the beautiful object into Zia's trembling hands. Zia couldn't see what a woman so unquestionable and passionate could have learned from her but by then she knew to keep her thoughts to herself when it was not necessary to make them heard.
Somewhere in the darkness to her left a bush rustled, though no breeze had touched it. Zia started violently, hand flying to tightly grip her bow. Deft, practised movements meant she had an arrow notched in less than five seconds. Gloom restricted the view of her surroundings – she would only have the enemy in sight when it was almost on top of her. Breathing shallowly, she stepped around in a circle, scanning the darkness in vain for any sight of the disturbance.
Suddenly, she saw something; a small movement in the shadows that clearly indicated a living creature was present. A pair of eyes glinted for a second before vanishing again. Zia held the bow steady, preparing to strike. Whatever it was need only come a few steps closer.
"What are you pointing that thing at me for?"
Recognizing the voice, Zia sagged like a doll. She lowered the weapon just as Breejit's long face appeared from beneath the bracken. He was looking at her incredulously, as though he couldn't quite believe she'd been ready to shoot him.
"What are you doing here, Bree?" she asked dryly, although her heart still raced in her chest.
The Fox had now fully emerged from the undergrowth, allowing Zia to see him clearly. He trotted up to her, eyeing the bow warily. "I came to make sure that you're safe, of course," he answered, as though it were obvious.
Zia rolled her eyes. "I don't need protection." She looked pointedly at the arrow still clutched in her hand – the one that had almost ended up embedded in his chest.
Breejit planted himself in front of her stubbornly.
"Look, Bree," she sighed, slinging the bow over her shoulder. "I've told you before, you don't need to supervise me all the time. Besides, I'm already tense and you make a lot of noise."
He looked indignant. "I do not. Can't an old Fox have any fun?"
This made Zia smile. She decided to humour him, at least for a little while. Plus, she'd be glad of the company – maybe having him there would help ease her nerves.
"All right," she conceded. "You may accompany me. Just this once, though. Next time you're staying at the Grove."
He raised a front paw in a mock salute. The soft pad-pad-pad of his dainty footsteps beside her did soothe Zia's quailing stomach, but only slightly. Her mind still retained the premonition that something horrible would happen. Something they were not expecting. Something that would set off a devastating chain of events. The feeling was cold in her gut and far from pleasant.
They circled the perimeter in companionable silence. Breejit seemed - or else was pretending to be - completely unaware of the unease that prickled the back of Zia's neck. It was a wonder he couldn't sense a change in the air like he had done at the beach, a lifetime ago when she'd first laid eyes upon King Edmund.
No! Zia reprimanded herself internally. I must not think about him. I only knew him for a short time but in that time he caused me almost nothing but trouble. I should have listened to Bree and just left him be in the first place.
Despite her self-assurance of Edmund's bad influence, keeping herself away from him had not been easy. For the first few days after the Solstice she'd been utterly miserable. Even after months had gone by her dreams remained haunted by his face. At first she'd managed to hold off any urges that demanded she return to the beach in the hope of seeing him, but gradually her will-power was eroded by overwhelming desires. She was not proud of doing so but she'd given in to them once. Just once, she'd stolen away from the Grove when no one was paying attention enough to miss her.
Finding the way down to the beach was like second nature. Sure enough, he was in the water, still as glorious as the first time. What Zia wasn't prepared for was the twinge of longing that almost tore her open. The desire to go to him was so strong and engulfed her so quickly that she was on her feet and running before her brain could catch up. She'd almost reached the shore, but what she saw next stopped her dead.
An all-too-familiar head of auburn hair stepped away from the tree that had obscured her from Zia's view. Pelerine's curvy silhouette floated gracefully along the sand like a cloud. She moved to stand in the surf, fiddling with a lock of hair and giggling as Edmund aimed a splash in her direction. He was grinning too, grinning so wide that his teeth glinted in the moonlight.
Breejit watched a look of desperate sadness take over Zia's features. He gently bumped her hand to draw her away from her memories and back to the present. He smiled up at her as best he could with his foxy mouth. She giggled at the attempt and affectionately fondled his ears.
"It'll be all right, Bree," she whispered. He couldn't tell if she was trying to convince herself or him.
"Yes," he agreed, nuzzling into her touch.
Suddenly, an almighty explosion rocked the world and sent both Zia and Breejit tumbling to the ground. Roots and thorns scratched and tore at her hands but Zia was back on her feet in a matter of seconds, searching the shadows. Black silhouettes of trees moved closer together, protecting each other from whatever had caused the dreadful noise.
"What in Aslan's name was that?" Breejit exclaimed.
Zia didn't answer. The niggling in her mind had suddenly intensified. This was it, whatever she'd sensed before was happening now. Why hadn't she acted earlier? Why had she just continued on as though nothing was different?
Another earthquake rumbled and shivered along the forest floor. This time they both managed to stay on their feet. In the distance a red and orange glow flickered between the trees. A dreadful realisation slapped Zia in the face.
"Fire!" she cried. "And it's coming from Dancing Lawn!"
Then they were both sprinting and time seemed to slow down. More tremors shook the forest and they stumbled often. Zia tried to think around the terror in her mind as the flames leaped higher but all rationality was gone, leaving only cold, raw panic. She felt as though she was moving through treacle; an age passed and the Lawn wasn't moving any closer. She pushed herself harder, biting back a cry as pain shot up her legs. Thick smoke burned in her throat, making it almost impossible to draw breath. The heat was tremendous – far greater than any Solstice fire. Sweat itched and trickled down her face. Behind her, Breejit was fighting for breath. They were close enough now that they had to stop or risk being seen.
Ducking behind a thick oak trunk, Zia motioned for Breejit to keep quiet as she struggled to calm her own ragged breathing. Over the sound of the roaring, crackling flames, they could hear muffled shouts. Deep, thundering voices unlike those of any creature Zia knew, occasionally joined by shrill, grating shrieks. Breejit writhed as the sounds abused his sensitive ears. Zia tried to help by covering them with her hands but to no avail.
Zia longed for a glimpse of the monsters that had done this to the beloved Lawn. At the same time, she willed them to stay hidden. Pain clawed at her heart as the first charred remains of a beautiful tree groaned, creaked and crashed to the ground. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream – the dying tree let out an inhuman shriek as it fell that seemed to go on forever. Tears streamed down Zia's cheeks but she could do nothing except stare at the scorched carcass, knowing that, somewhere, an innocent Dryad had just vanished into thin air.
The pair knelt, both speechless and rooted, until dawn. The jeers and cackles did not cease for a moment during that time – the noises of triumph made Zia feel sick. At last, as the sky began to pale with the rising sun, the unseen devils quietened. Shadows shrank back and light was cast on the figures. Zia breathed in so sharply that she was sure they heard her. Grotesque, mutilated creatures lumbered out of the trees. Some had twisted, devilish horns skewered into their heads. Others had veined, leathery wings protruding from their backs. They were a mass of hooked beaks, squinting eyes, crushing hooves, wickedly pointed talons and fur matted with something that looked sickeningly like dried blood.
The group stampeded right past their hiding place. For several agonizing minutes Zia was convinced they would be discovered but, as the last one passed and their jeers faded into silence, she and Breejit were still safe behind the tree.
Neither of them spoke as they rose from their stiff positions and made their way on heavy legs to inspect what was left of Dancing Lawn. The scene before them resembled a battlefield - filled with blackened skeletons and desiccated grass. They both choked up with wretchedness as they picked up sticks of charcoal and stamped out any remaining fires. Every Solstice flashed before them at once: merry memories that did not belong amongst the wreckage.
For a while Zia and Breejit walked slowly around the clearing. They trod lightly so as not to disturb the peace, tainted though it was. Zia gently touched the trunk of each tree in turn, murmuring blessings to the deceased Dryads. Breejit did his best to clear up the debris but his efforts did nothing to restore any of the Lawn's former glory. The people would be devastated when they found out what had happened.
With that thought in mind, Zia began to cry silently. She curled up into a ball on the hard ground and hugged her knees as though they were the only things keeping her from flying apart. Breejit nestled into her side, hoping their shared warmth would bring some comfort. If Foxes could cry, he would also have been in tears.
They didn't move as the sun climbed higher and higher. Somehow, the damage looked worse in daylight. Black, brown and grey stood out starkly against spring green. This was supposed to be a happy time; the first few weeks of spring were when the Dryads and Nymphs were at their most cheerful, but the mood would no doubt be severely dampened when word got out of what those hateful demons had done.
"Why, Bree?" Zia whispered forlornly, gazing once more at the graveyard of trees. "Why would anyone do this?"
"I don't know," he replied sadly. "I wish I did. But then, I don't wish to find out." He sighed. "We should probably head back to the Grove. They'll be worried about us and the Empress needs to know what happened here."
"Yes," Zia agreed. "She'll know what to do."