I know we all thought this would never get updated, right? But we were all wrong! I'm in it to win it and have the entire rest of the story plotted out. Charlie will be spending a bit more time in Narnia than I'd initially planned, but I think that's okay. Life has settled down a bit for me. I'm currently unemployed and desperately needing a job, but my mom and sister are done with their cancer stuff and my stepdad's doing okay on chemo and so life is sort of putting itself back together, I think. I hope, at least, haha! Thanks to everyone who has sent me encouraging emails, both about family stuff and about this story. I can't let you guys down this far in, right?
Chapter Fifteen
For a million hours Charlotte cooked in the cavern - or so it felt. The heat made her drowsy and lethargic, the warm glow from below hurt her eyes when she peered over the edge. At first there was only silence punctuated by the popping and crackling of the liquid fire oozing around the bottom of the rock column. Occasionally she became aware of a hissing, the sibilant language of the salamanders barely reaching her ears as they would temporarily surface to converse.
For a million hours Charlotte lay limply, silently, growing hungrier and thirstier and more listless. The growling in her stomach was bad but the parchedness was far worse. The heat made her sweat and pant and in no time at all her lips had blistered and split, her tongue shriveled in her sandpaper mouth, and her eyes ached in their sockets.
"Aslan," she sighed. "This was not how I wanted to die." Sometimes she'd find the energy to roll over, temporarily relieving some of her body from the heat. Her feet fell asleep first, and then her hands, and finally her ears began to tingle.
"What have I done?" she coughed, feeling her body melt around her. How lovely that would be, for her body to become a nice cool puddle of liquid that would then almost instantly evaporate and rise to the dirt above her head. Even as she looked up, a few handfuls floated down to her face and she couldn't find the energy to brush them off. A gradual thumping had begun during the millionth hour, a drum rolling to the hour of death.
"This is not how I wanted to die," Charlie croaked out again, finding her last ounce of strength was just enough to roll her body to the edge. There she teetered, the billowing heat rising up like a balloon beneath her body, holding her onto the platform. The drumming became louder in her ears. The entire world felt like it was shaking, blowing up, collapsing around her. Small explosions of color in her eyes held off the approaching blackness for as long as they could.
With a final shove, Charlotte was off of the platform, falling, her hair streaking the air behind her like a flame in and of itself. Her body went limp and she closed her eyes, ready to no longer be so thirsty.
Charlotte's body was snatched from the air only a moment before she hit the flames - in fact, the very ends of her hair were singed as she was carried inches above the surface of the molten fire. But Charlotte's vision had already gone black and she was only vaguely aware of this sensation, this freedom of flying.
What a relief, her heart thought, to be rid of it all.
There was a beat, a heartbeat perhaps. For some time, all that Charlotte knew existed was this beat. What it her own heartbeat? Was this the afterlife eternity - nothingness and the beating of her own dead heart? But no, because eventually she noticed the sound of her heartbeat alongside the beat, quicker, then slower, then quicker again. She became aware of the pumping of blood in her temples, then her neck, and then the rise and fall of her own chest. It felt like something heavy pressed on her chest, but something cool and light rested on her arms and ankles.
The distant beating was no longer just a beat, but punctuated with a ch-ch-ch sound, a tambourine perhaps. A flute trilled and something that sounded similar to bagpipes but a tad less whiny carried the melody.
Pretty certain at this point that she wasn't dead, Charlotte opened her eyes but immediately squeezed them shut as the world dipped and spun. Sudden action to either side of her, muted voices, and a damp cloth on her forehead helped Charlotte ground herself, and after a few minutes she tried again, this time sitting up as she opened her eyes.
A fox was inspecting her ankles. Of course. Her little black paws spread some sort of goop over the exposed flesh and Charlotte shivered, feeling the cold of it sink deep into her bones. Charlotte just stared, because it was one thing to be told that animals could talk and move almost humanlike, but it was an entirely different thing to see this behavior in action.
"Here, little one, let me brush that gorgeous hair of yours," a second fox offered. Charlotte didn't see her before she felt the weight on the bed behind her, and then a brush began working its way through her tangled hair. "It's such a lovely color. Truly beautiful."
"Oh, stop with your self flattery, Camille," the fox at Charlotte's ankles insisted. She laughed, Charlotte thought - a joyful barking. Seeing Charlotte's confusion and mistaking it for confusion about the joke, this first fox explained, "It's the same color, you see. Your hair and our fur, it's very similar. You must be considered very beautiful where you come from-"
A voice from the doorway bellowed unnecessarily loudly, "If the visitor is awake, we should move, as it's just after daybreak."
"Oh, but she hasn't even eaten yet," Camille insisted. "Let her eat-"
"Our location is known and to remain would be foolish," the creature retorted, then disappeared.
"What sort of animal was that?" Charlotte asked, her first time speaking. Her voice was gravelly and it hurt her throat to speak. Somehow she found it in her to be curious when really she just wanted to drift back to sleep. Both foxes thrust glasses of liquids at her, then gave their barking laughs again, waving their paws at each other for thinking so alike.
"Anyway, dear, that was a capybara. They aren't native to Narnia, by any means, but they've migrated here from the south."
"Archenland?"
"That's right. Have you been there? Come, little one, up up. Let's get you dressed so we can move. We'll get food for you on the road."
Charlotte had many questions but none of the answers seemed that important. Where they were didn't matter because they were leaving. Where they were going didn't matter because she had nowhere else to go. Where this dress they were helping her ease over her head had come from didn't matter, either. The blue fabric clung to her a bit loosely, soft against her skin, plain but with just the faintest shine when the candlelight hit it just so. It trailed several inches past her feet, though, which would make walking hard.
"There. Ivy will be able to hem that right up once we get settled tonight."
Charlotte nodded absent-mindedly, gingerly touching the red welt on her wrist where the salamander had grabbed her. It no longer hurt, which she guessed had something to do with the thick goop coated smeared across it. The medicine was clear with small bits of something green. The skin cooled everywhere the goop touched. But again, what it was didn't matter because at least it didn't hurt. There were a dozen small burns on her arms and legs, but she wasn't sure when she'd gotten them. It didn't matter.
"Georgia, be a dear and grab that basket. It's got some food in it." Charlotte was gently pushed towards the door, but felt her legs weaken with only a few steps. She would have sunk to the floor had not the suddenly-reappearing capybara braced her stomach.
"No good, no good at all! We shall have to call a transport and that will take ages!" he cried, throwing his arms up in frustration as soon as Georgia and Camille had taken Charlotte from him. He stomped off. In less than two minutes, though, "transport" had arrived and Georgia and Camille eased Charlotte out the door.
They had been inside a tree, one of a hundred pressed together in this dense forest. Animals poured from other trunks, bags slung over their shoulders as they fell into a parade. It must have been a parade, or else this was the worst evacuation Charlotte had ever heard of, because the drums and tambourine she'd heard early were leading the procession, growing fainter as they marched into the distance.
"All right, up you go," one of the foxes -for they really were identical, so Charlotte couldn't tell which was whom - encouraged, easing Charlotte gently towards a dark, very large centaur. Charlotte had of course never seen one before, and yet something in the way he stood let her know right away that this whole situation had him disgruntled. She vaguely remembered Peter saying they hated being ridden, that they felt themselves too good to serve as beasts of burden or transportation. Surely there was a horse-
"That's enough out of you, Krikorian," the capybara snapped, hitting him on the rear. The centaur turned a murderous look to him, which was enough to make the capybara yell something about hurrying it up before scurrying off. Georgia and Camille helped Charlotte mount the centaur's back, ignoring his huffs of disgust.
"I'm sorry if I'm too heavy," Charlotte offered. She felt she needed to apologize for something but that it really wasn't fair to apologize for being too weak to walk a great distance.
"If she can mount, she can walk," Krikorian grumbled, but Georgia or Camille both barked something at him to hush. With a sigh, he rose and took off at a trot for the parade, leaving Charlotte to quickly grab onto his shoulders, feeling awfully uncomfortable about it.
Once in line, Krikorian settled into a gloomy acceptance of his role as transport and silently marched, his chin held defensively in the air. Charlotte resisted the urge to untangle his matted hair, and instead began to dig through the basket of food the foxes handed her. Her stomach was silent until she took the first bite, and then it erupted in an angry, noisy growl reminding her of just how long it had gone without sustenance. She didn't bother breaking off pieces of the large cheese block, just took big bites from the corners. Her lips stung and small dots of blood were left on the cheese from her parched lips. She shoved two, three crackers in her mouth at a time and didn't wait until she'd swallowed before popping in grapes and some strange small green fruit. In no time at all she'd emptied out the whole basket and relished in the stomachache that followed.
A sleepiness overcame Charlotte, but on the back of a grumpy centaur was no place for a nap, so she glanced around at the rest of their parade go-ers to keep herself awake. She'd been as prepared as an individual could be, but it was still surreal to see this hoard of animals trundling along together, animals that back in England would have fought or eaten or ignored each other at best.
Georgia and Camille kept pace on either side of Krikorian, and it was to her fox caretakers that Charlotte asked, "Are we going to Cair Paravel? Did Prince - or, well, King Caspian, I suppose - did he finish rebuilding it?"
"We are indeed going to Cair Paravel, but it was rebuilt a long time ago. Did you know King Caspian the Tenth?" the fox on the right, Camille, asked. "It would not be the first time a son or daughter of Eve visited for a second time-"
"No," Charlotte interrupted. "I'm afraid I didn't know him, though I've heard good things. Peter said he would make a wonderful leader, maybe even better than he himself."
This time it was the fox on the left who interrupted, "You don't mean High King Peter, by any chance? Not High King Peter the Magnificent."
"That's quite a title." Charlotte tried to think of him as the Magnificent. She thought he was grand but she was also aware he was rather thick-headed and stubborn and, well, was anyone magnificent in their twenties? She smiled at the memory of him stealing cookies from the plate, which was certainly not royally magnificent!
"He's your friend?" Georgia pressed gently, sharing an excited look with her sister.
"Well, he and I . . . are . . . I suppose you could say we're friends . . ." Charlotte's hesitation conveyed the opposite of what she meant to convey, however, and the fox sisters barked joyfully to each other. It wasn't just any daughter of Eve that had been clutched from the very brink of death in the Salamander's layer. Why, it was High King Peter's lady friend!
"Your name, lady?" Camille or Georgia asked. Charlotte didn't miss the appended title of respect.
"Charlotte. Or Charlie for short."
Suddenly Krikorian's voice rang out as he began plowing his way through the ranks of animals, waving his arms to motion them to move, bellowing, "Make way, make way for High King Peter's Lady! Make way!" Charlotte hadn't even realized he'd been listening!
Her face turned bright red as she insisted, "Oh, no! That's not it at all! We're just- we aren't married, and I'm not exactly his-"
"Come now, lady," Georgia insisted, leaping to keep up with Krikorian's hastened steps. "You needn't mince words here. We saw how your eyes lit up! We understand everything. We must treat you with the respect you deserve. High King Peter would want it so, don't you think?"
Were they right? Had her eyes lit up? Surely not. It was nothing more than the relief of having a shared connection, of knowing she could drop a name that would entitle her to being well taken care of. She couldn't let them think that she and Peter were, well, intimate.
But then, how much harm was there really in letting them think what they would? Peter would never be back in Narnia; he said Aslan had told him as much. And she wasn't lying. She was just . . . omitting some things. Letting people fill in the details for themselves.
Starting over. Truly and entirely starting over. It sounded wonderful, to be among people who only could know as much as she said about herself. Here she could be whomever she wanted to be - in a way, truer to herself than she'd ever been in the real world. In this strange manner, she could have Peter without actually having him. Nobody would get hurt if she just pretended. In fact, everyone would be better off. She would never have to pretend she didn't feel anything for Peter, but that awful girl could keep the real Peter, who probably deserved her anyway.
Charlotte decided to stop worrying so much about what was real and what was only pretend.
So she settled back and let Krikorian proudly carry her to the front of the parade, where she belonged.
Cair Paravel was even more magnificent than she had expected. The painting in the museum and the details given by Peter, these were all outdated. The castle grounds had expanded and been embellished, she could tell having never even been here before. Yet she recognized instantly that the throne room and great hall had been rebuilt almost identical to the plans from Peter's day. Instead of four thrones, though, there stood only one, a lovely marble creation with soft blue and silver cushioning. Even lovelier was the girl who sat atop it.
Her hair was long and so blond as to be almost silver. It certainly shone like silver in the flickering candlelight attempting to compensate for the decreasing sunlight outside. Her round, delicate face peeked out from between the curtains of curls, her blue eyes startlingly dark and her soft pink lips curved upward into a smile. She rose when they bowed, as though impatient for the formalities to be passed, and Charlie saw that her long curls extended almost to the floor. They swished side to side as she took several steps forward to balance on her toes at the edge of the dais where the throne sat.
"Lady Charlotte," the girl grinned. "It's wonderful to see you looking so well."
Charlie felt her face flush with embarrassment. She didn't know quite how the queen knew her name, since she hadn't heard any introduced, nor did she know how to reply.
"Thank you, your majesty," she stammered back, curtsying again.
The queen's laughter was light and chirpy like sweet little bird as she plunged from the dais and grasped Charlie's two hands in her own.
"Honestly, Lady Charlotte, you mustn't joke like that! Imagine, you calling me your majesty!" The queen glanced around at the people and animals gathered in the throne room. They laughed with her, though this only confused Charlotte more. The queen kissed her on the cheek as though they were old friends and insisted, "You must call me simply Mistiana and nothing else. From one queen to another-"
"Oh, but I'm no queen!" Charlie gasped, shaking her head emphatically. "I'm only-"
"Semantics, Charlotte. Only a matter of time and you will be one of the highest queens. Married to High King Peter. Imagine!" Mistiana sighed. Charlie couldn't help but think that she was rather bubbly and silly for a queen, but she didn't say this. After all, if Lucy had been a queen and Peter had been a High King, royalty must be handled a bit differently here than in Europe. So she kept quiet and forced a smile. How pathetic was it to lie about whether you were going to marry someone? Perhaps it would be better to correct this whole thing . . .
"Come, we have much to talk about," Mistiana continued. She motioned to everyone present that they were dismissed and asked to be alerted when other "units" returned. She then led Charlotte from the hall to one of the many verandas that looked out over the sea.
Charlotte's arm fell from Mistiana's as she stepped quickly to the railing and leaned against it. The ocean was beautiful. For a moment thoughts of Peter and Narnia and the whole situation fled and she thought only of the beautiful sea. A salty breeze twisted her hair into her mouth, which ruined the moment a bit but made her laugh. After traveling all day and then such a rushed, odd introduction to the queen, the peace was welcome. The sun reflected on the water, a shimmering expanse of orange and red broken only by the occasional white cap and small dark bumps in the water.
"Whales," Mistiana explained. "They're headed back north after the winter."
"Do they talk?" Mistiana answered that they didn't and again offered her arm to Charlotte. "Excuse me, but what year is it? What's the world like right now? I'm afraid I know where I am but now when or why."
"2402 is the year. I'm Queen Mistiana, the only child of King Rilian, the son of King Caspian the Tenth," the queen explained. She led Charlotte slowly along the outer walk and down to a lower veranda that was beautifully and intentionally overgrown with flowers.
"He married a star, didn't he? King Caspian did? Peter told me that but it never quite made sense. How can a star be a person?"
Mistiana giggled, a sound like the tinkling of bells, but continued to answer her earlier questions, "The world right now is at peace. My father died only a few years ago, but since then life has been joyful and wonderful except for a couple skirmishes here and there. The salamanders are our only real concern right now - I'm sorry, I hope I haven't spoken too soon." Even as she said this she gently took Charlie's hands and turned them over, examining the burns on her wrist and arms. Charlie had almost forgotten all about her time with the salamanders until just now. The memories made her frown and she felt a heaviness creeping across her shoulders.
"How was I rescued?" she asked, trying to power through the memory.
"A raid," Mistiana explained. "We didn't receive word that a human had been captured until after the raid had finished. We sent word to the warriors but you had already been delivered to a guard and were on your way here."
"So it was just a coincidence?" Charlie pressed. The memory came to her fuzzy and indistinct, but she could at least remember that she had rolled herself off the platform serving as her prison. She had meant to end it all and . . . something had grabbed her, she thought, or maybe caught her. But had a perfectly timed coincidence saved her life?
Mistiana pressed a delicate kiss to Charlie's wrist and insisted, "There are no coincidences." The burns momentarily disappeared where her lips had touched before turning red again, but at least they weren't hurting.
"It was a guard that brought me here? It seemed more like a parade . . ."
"Oh!" Mistiana laughed, tugging her along again. "Of course you aren't familiar with the great game. During times of peace, it's how we keep active and alert."
"What is?"
"Hide and seek!" Charlie must have gaped because Mistiana's amusement pealed forth again for several seconds until she could speak again, "I knew that would surprise you! You do look absolutely darling when you're surprised. Did you know that? Your eyes get ever so large."
"But hide and seek is a children's game!"
"Everything was once a children's game," Mistiana argued. "Narnia has five guard units. Four set out and have a three days to find a hiding place, then the fifth unit begins their search. The challenge, of course, is to hide so many people while also obtaining the food and shelter needed to survive. When a unit is found, they parade home making as much noise as possible to call the other units home. Of course, the birds help and carry the song along. The game rarely takes longer than two weeks. Partly that's because after two weeks of hiding, units tend to get bored and give themselves away the slightest bit."
"So I was part of a giant game of hide and seek?"
"Yes," Mistiana beamed. "If you'd like, you can play again. The next game isn't until the end of summer but I'm sure Georgia and Camille would love to have you again. They seemed quite taken with you."
Charlie almost laughed - Susan and Peter would never believe this! That is, if she ever saw them again. If she had her choice, she'd stay in Narnia forever. It would be too bad if there really was no way to send a message back to Susan and Lucy, though, to let them know she was safe and happy. Perhaps Lucy would even visit again! She didn't know for sure that Lucy wouldn't, and that would be great fun. Another breeze brushed against her cheek and she closed her eyes for a moment, even as they walked, simply feeling content.
"I want to hear all about your life out there," Mistiana sighed, as though reading her mind. "I want to hear all about High King Peter. I'm sure you have a very romantic story!" Charlie opened her mouth to reply but stopped when she saw the flicker. Mistiana's eyes glanced for just a second at the young guard standing at the corner of the veranda. As soon as they had noticed him, her eyes darted away and a soft pink hue crept into her cheeks, no doubt because they'd approached him as Mistiana said the word "romantic." Yes, Charlotte knew just how giddy and embarrassed such coincidences made a young girl. But then, as Mistiana had said, there were no coincidences. The reason that Mistiana now tugged her more quickly along was obvious.
When they were around the corner and out of ear shot, Mistiana slowed and lifted her chin as though to dare Charlie to comment on their sudden flight from the veranda and its young guard.
"Now, let me show you the whole castle so that you can move about freely. You simply must make yourself at home here," she simply continued. Charlie smiled and allowed herself to be pulled along. What a lovely time she had happened to land in Narnia!
My apologies if this chapter feels rushed and scattered. The first chapter after a hiatus always feels bumpy to write but the next chapter should smooth everything out and clarify quite a bit.