Author's Note: I want to inform all my readers that the Susan/Rabadash scene is not strictly according to C. S. Lewis's writing and more of my own imagination. Other than that I wish you all a good reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.
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Susan raised her head, blinking in the sudden light as the door to the murky room opened. She groaned as she moved her stiff neck.
It bitterly cried out against it, protesting vehemently and for one lightning instant Susan felt as if she was going to die.
Where was she?
Certainly not in Cair Paravel.
Her luxuriant curls, glossy and glittering black, now hung limply by her face in loose ringlets and dust was splattered across her face.
Oh Aslan, help me… Please…
She heard light footsteps and within a few minutes a pair of finely polished boots appeared in Susan's line of sight. She tried to hold up her head and stared unbelievably into the sneering face of Prince Rabadash.
Impossible.
Utterly Impossible.
Completely Impossible.
She did not believe her eyes.
But even as she thought that, Rabadash leaned down and smirked, saying loudly in his mocking voice.
'So Princess Susan, tied up in chains in a servant quarter? How can it be so?'
'Not princess, Rabadash, Queen. Queen Susan of Narnia. You have to address me as such.'
Anger ran across Rabadash's face and he raised his hand to blow a stinging slap to her cheek.
Susan gasped, touching her red cheek, now filled with pain. He grinned jubilantly. His expression sickened her.
Now she remembered. Mere flashes. The ball….. the dance….. lights out….. darkness….. and then nothing.
They had kidnapped her!
'What do you want, Rabadash?' she asked dully, realizing her foolishness.
'Dear Susan, the sight of your beauty hurts me so. I hate to see it ruined and in chains. And so I propose a deal.'
'What deal?' she gritted her teeth. Rabadash smiled pointedly.
'You become my bride and I free you. Come now Susan, your brothers have gone away to war, your sister is alone. You wouldn't want something to happen to her, would you?'
Susan swallowed. Lucy. Not her.
She would do anything. Anything.
Her voice faltered as she began to speak, trembling
'I…'
It was then that the door to the murky room flew open, crashing against the neighbouring wall.
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Edmund dipped swiftly, like a lithe bird swerving to avoid a flying rock, as the enemy's sword went crashing over his head.
His dark eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth against the force of the attack. The dance of death had begun.
He pushed his skinny from around the ground occasionally ducking and bending low. He raised his thin sword round and round in a curve as the enemy yowled and fell to their feet, dead.
It was not over yet.
Not in the least.
He pushed back his coffee coloured hair, confusion lining his face as he saw the few wounded men, running away.
'Should we follow them?' One of the centaurs shouted, shooting arrow after arrow, stabbing two of the men trying to escape.
Edmund thought quickly.
No.
If they gave chase to the enemy they would spread out too much and it was very clear that the men were running back to their camp where other soldiers resided.
It would be freely giving in to death.
'No!' he bellowed to the Narnians closer to the fleeing men than he. 'Fall back! Do not follow them!'
They were reluctant but came back to him, gathering together, some falling to the ground in pain because of the wounds they had sustained and others hurrying to take them to the healers.
Edmund scanned the boundary. The village was still not completely free of occupation and understandably its natives were unwilling to come out and talk.
He signalled to Orieus who was shouldering his ash wood bow. He trotted over
'I hope you were not wounded, my lord Edmund.'
'Likewise Orieus . Do you have any knowledge of the other commandments? Of Peter or Isabela?'
'I am worried as you are, my lord. I have not heard of them since morning when King Peter and that Vladimar went into battle. The different commandments spread out in different directions. No one knows where they are but it was confirmed that they are nearby. The High King in the north and the High Queen towards the west. Do you propose we send more soldiers to them?'
'No. But do send some Narnians to scan he border of the Narnian camp. Post soldiers at different areas and make sure that the camp is well protected. And come to my tent then along with the available commanders of the commandments and Lords Peridan and Cale. We need to discuss different strategies.'
'Yes my lord.' Orieus went off, burying away to assemble the required people.
Half an hour later, all of them sat cross legged across the woven mat laid against the cold floor. Some leaned against the poles supporting the tent.
'My lord Edmund, the enemy seems weak compared to the description provided by the search party sent by us. Giants.' Lord Cale asked thoughtfully. He was a young man, barely older than Peter but was a sickly shade of pale because of his Archenlander descent. 'Where do you suppose they are hiding then?'
'Cale someone like you should know that giants cannot be hidden.' Peridan reprimanded, throwing a grin at Edmund. 'However I think they are still unsure of our potential. These tribal people do not know of what kings and queens are.'
'But still,' A faun argued. 'My lord it seems suspicious. These people are hiding something.'
'Yes, giants.' Edmund said dryly. He wanted to continue when a young squirrel scurried in, shyly gesturing towards Edmund.
'What is it Alvin?' He asked.
Alvin coughed lightly.
'My lord Edmund, King Peter is back.'
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Isabela gasped as she felt the sword sliding just beside her back, the hair on her spine standing up and freezing as goose bumps broke out over her skin. She glanced up through her bangs, ducking expertly to the side, her figure waving around, almost dancing, as she tried to escape the bloodied sword jabbed at her again and again relentlessly.
She gave fleeting look at the masked man in front of her, covered in armour with black wrappings. He grinned at her wolfishly, his expression hungry for blood.
'You can't dance forever, my pretty one.' He cooed to her.
'I won't.' she replied sweetly and lunged at him, her own thin blade of pure steel weaving out before her in a lethal arc that left a large scar on the chest of her opponent.
He snarled at her, fury lining his features hidden behind the mask.
'I'll kill you!' he growled, waving his weapon, his expression befitting a maniac. 'I'll kill you!'
'You can try.' She said, her tone taunting and she jabbed harshly at him with her sword.
He staggered back and stared at her, amazed.
She did not waste a breath and applied her full force, which wasn't much considering her weight, on his sword, their weapons matching like thunder crackling.
He fell back and the metallic blade flew out of his hand, weaving around, suspended in the air. He fell to his feet, clutching his chest.
Isabela's chest tightened when she saw the red blood staining his pale hand. She tried to smile triumphantly but failed as her eyes followed his limp form flop in front of her feet like a rag doll.
She stared at him, her face pale and haggard. Oh Aslan…. What have I done?
Suddenly she felt something sliding through her flesh and she turned around to meet the steady, smirking glare of an old man.
The moment of pity had allowed a thin dagger to slide through Isabela's shoulder forcing her to scream in sudden pain. She collapsed down, clutching her shoulder as her victim had previously.
The man glanced briefly at her, his gaze taken aback and snide.
'Women are no more than dolls. Shouldn't be involved in battles. Your king ought to know that.' He said gruffly. She glared at him, venomously.
Gritting her teeth she jumped lithely to her feet, her wounded arm's muscles clenched and tensed. She narrowed her eyes into green slits and leaped on his, furiously hitting him with the hilt of her sword.
He howled in pain and pushed her back, waving his hands wildly. She clutched his collar sharply, struggling to stay on her feet and keeping hold of him.
He pushed her sword back with his own and fiercely scratched at her. She ducked back from his lethal blows, zigzagging from one side to another.
He followed her, raising his hand to stab her but she grasped his hand sharply and used all her force to twist it back so that his own dagger pointed towards him.
He lifted one heavy hand and hit her on her stinging shoulder. She bit her lip so hard that blood appeared; she could taste it. But she did not let go. She would not let go.
But then she felt herself flying off the man and her aching shoulder colliding against the ground and the red earth flew into her eyes temporarily blinding her as her head hit the ground along with her body.
She struggled to get up and rubbing at her eyes saw a hairy man with long, brownish hair that could have classified him as a wolf. He grinned at her, his teeth yellow and dirty. She grimaced.
He held up his long fingered hands and flashed his eyes back at his two companions. A signal: Cover me. Don't you dare disobey me.
Isabela glanced around desperately for her sword and saw it was lying just beyond her reach. She rolled down, her fingertips reaching out towards it and she fought to get on her feet.
Her ankle turned around and she winced. Damn it!
The wolfish man grinned again and lunged at her. In fact all of the men jumped on her. She fell back, gasping from the struggle and waving her sword wildly.
She hit anyone and everyone.
The wolfish man cried out as she stabbed him in the throat. He glared at her with his slit, yellowish pupils. His hands shot out grasping her throat. She kicked him off.
By the time the enemy retreated and the remaining one hurt man scurried off like a rabbit desperate for its burrow, Isabela was aching all over, every move painful, every inch of her body hurt.
Quietly she slipped into the tent assigned to her and Peter before anyone could spot her. Already Peter had warned her to keep her position in her mind even after a battle. He had been kind but Isabela had understood the hidden meaning behind his words.
She laughed bitterly.
A High Queen couldn't be seen in the state she was in.
She glanced at the mirror, gaping at the ghostly white face she saw.
It is me, she thought dully.
Blood lightly tinged her cut lip, running in a slim layer across her jaw. She rubbed it with burning hot water to stop the flow of blood.
The cool feeling of her nightgown over her offered her some relief as she sank into the same delirious slumber she had in the previous days of war.
It seemed only a few seconds when Peter shook her awake, hastily kicking away the covers from her as he raced down the large aisle lined with Narnian camps followed by the galloping Orieus.
What was going on now?
Couldn't the enemy rest for a while?
Alarmed shouts reached her ears and she sleepily rubbed her eyes trying to focus in on her surroundings.
She failed.
Finally she managed to stumble out of the tent, her hair messy and curled from sleep. What she saw made her heart stop.
Gusts of wind blew directly overhead, swirling wildly and in a maniac way. The whirls upon whirls of the blustery weather gathered together. The full moon which could have been clearly seen just minutes before disappeared behind greyish clouds which crawled over the night sky.
The thunder, which even as she stared, crackled overhead and as she looked on it flew fiercely through the galaxies to blast a depression in the earth.
And as Isabela was pushed back by the roaring crowd of Narnians, holding tents and weapons and food and other things they could possibly carry, it began to rain.
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Hope you all like it! Please tell me what you think. Your suggestions and comments are warmly welcomed! Reviews!
A. L. Potter