A/N: We're actually here. The last chapter of Heartworm. This section has been the longest one to write by far, and I don't even have the words to express how grateful I am to everyone who's stuck with this story through these slower updates and a lot more angst than I planned on. Honestly thank you to every one of you who's read, left a kudos, bookmarked, or left a comment. Hearing y'all's thoughts is always a highlight of these updates and I hope you enjoy this last chapter of Heartworm!
Chapter 88 Content Warnings: battle gore, snake
Chapter 88: not afraid to die
Addie
King.
Intruder.
Killer.
Tried to kill the Lady. Has to die.
He's dropped his sword - fool - but his grip on her wrist is strong as shackles.
No, he's King… King…
Unimportant. King, killer, nothing - meaningless.
Her Lady has spoken. She commanded that he die.
With a snarl, Addie hooks a leg behind him and throws her weight forward. He topples and drags her with him.
The winded cry that leaves his royal mouth is choked in a spray of blood. But something about it is…
The king says her name in a wet cough, a plea. Her name, like he knows her, like…
It doesn't matter. He's come to invade Underland, steal the rings, kill her Lady, already tried—
The man is wheezing as she wills her dagger to cooperate, to meet his throat and spill the scarlet-stained cost of crossing the Lady, of trying to conquer her lands. The last thing he'll see is her by the light of the Lady's eternal fire.
He's going to die. She's going to kill him.
She's going to…
"Addie, please."
Barely words, that - a bloody tangle of a plea.
Even battle-broken, the king is strong. His grip holds, keeping her blade at bay.
"Please, stop," he coughs. "I know… I know you're—you have to be in there, Addie."
She's nowhere, she's nothing. There is only the Lady and her great quest that will make an empire of every world she touches.
Addie bares her teeth and strains. The dagger barely moves.
The man shifts, throws his weight, and suddenly she's on her back and he's above her, slamming her wrist to the floor.
The dagger skitters across the floor, out of reach.
He's going to kill her!
Addie scrabbles, kicks, bites, anything. She can't die, she's needed! Opheodra needs her! You must protect us both, the Lady said, and she will, she will!
The king shoves her down, and dull pain erupts as her head hits the floor.
Caspian, King Caspian is a…
He's a conqueror, intruder, murderer, will gladly kill her and the Lady because she's made herself his enemy and he is so accomplished a warmaker, and…
Addie's fist curls into his leather collar, her arm aching with the strain of keeping him back. He's pushing her down and her arms are trembling, struggling to hold him away.
And then her strength fails.
Panic thunders in her stomach as the king looms above her, eclipsing her view of anything but him.
Except he doesn't go for the kill. He just… stays there, panting, pinning her wrists but no more.
Any moment, those eyes will narrow, bloodlust overtaking the pain of his injuries, and she'll be dead.
Any moment.
The moment drags on.
He's…
He's injured - bloody mouth, laboured breathing. And he's…
King Caspian is looking down at her like she's clawed open his chest and ripped out his heart. Like she's holding it, bloody and beating, before his lips.
The sight of it stabs somewhere deep in her chest.
Oh, she hates him, hates this feeling. The Lady promised she'd never feel this again.
But Caspian is…
"I'm begging you," he gurgles. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth. "Stop."
Her mistake is looking up.
Eyes, his eyes. Dark as new moon midnight.
She has seen them before.
She's seen these eyes wide with surprise in a pre-dawn kitchen, manners eclipsing defensiveness, felt his hand in hers.
Just Caspian. This hardly seems the place for titles.
She's seen him wary and guarded - Thank you for your discretion - stormy and furious - Tell me why you returned - cold and distant - new research assistant - red-rimmed and exhausted - I tried, Addie, I'm so sorry.
She's seen his eyes swimming with sorrow, flashing with terror, bright with pride - in caves and throne rooms, bedrooms and halls, on fields and in starlight.
I know you, whispers something deep, long-buried and tentative. I know you.
His eyes have been tender, too.
Not like this. Like you're saying goodbye.
Soft with concern. Sparkling with amusement. Gentle with care.
Look at me, Adelina.
There is no malice in those eyes.
No viciousness. No rage.
No hate.
Pain stabs through her again, and inside her comes a crashing wave, a crack of thunder, a lightning strike splitting the world in two.
"Caspian?" His name wobbles on her tongue, taints her mouth with bitterness as she frowns through a haze of smoke.
His face slacks in surprise, and his hold loosens.
Caspian is here? But how?
Strum. Strum.
Yes, he must have brought his armies here to kill—
No, no, here to…
Addie coughs, smoke-sweetness curling away, its acrid underbelly churning her stomach.
If Caspian is here to make war, why has he come alone?
Let her go, he said, not long ago. Let them all go.
Is he here to stop Opheodra?
Impossible. No one finds Underland without the Lady's blessing.
"You can't be here," Addie whispers. "You can't."
Because if he is, then… then he's charged right into a trap. There's no escape from Underland, or from the Lady. She was supposed to escape, to go find him, and she failed. If Caspian's here, he'll either die or become yet another of Opheodra's unwitting servants, and there will be no one left standing between the witch and the rest of Narnia.
But he is. Somehow, some way, Caspian is right here, straining to breathe, bloody and bruised, those impossibly dark eyes glistening as he stares down at her.
He came. And now her failure has doomed them both.
The smoke thickens.
Opheodra is still playing.
Addie feels her hand seek the dagger, and it won't obey her silent command to stop. She's breathing in a foul-sweet stench like soured milk and rotting fruit, but her palm craves the press of a hilt.
And Caspian's hardly holding her down.
Don't let go, she screams, the plea caught behind a bubble like stone in her throat. Please, don't—
"Cas," she forces out. "I can't…"
She blinks, and he looks worried. Blinks again and he looks murderous, straining like a beast against her, ravenous for the kill.
The heat of an enchanted fire kisses her cheek, catching on her hand's shiny scars.
Her Lady needs her. Have to reach the dagger, strike now, before he—
No, she can't—
Give this burden to the fire.
Something happened to you in the north, Addie. I will find out what.
The Lady's spell has broken only twice. Once when she disappeared into the Wood. But before that, there was…
Addie pulls free and shoves a hand into the flames.
Caspian lurches and almost falls onto her, catching himself with a bloody grimace.
The pain doesn't come right away. For a long, terrible moment, it hovers out of reach, taunting as she reaches desperately for it. Her scars from the fire gods must shield her, however briefly. But then, oh God, then—
Sizzling, searing agony. It starts in her fingers and races over her hand, melting the scars of the first time the Lady's magic was torn away.
Addie's face contorts, and a scream, a real scream, tears past her lips.
But it's good. The stench of burning flesh chokes out the enchantment's saccharine-sour poison, and the pain scorches away the witch's magic, leaving blessed sweet clarity in its wake.
Caspian yanks her hand from the hearth. He's saying something, bloody lips moving frantically, but the words are lost to the ringing in her ears.
Gasping, Addie breathes in freedom and exhales poison. Tears leak from her eyes, and she doesn't have breath to reassure Caspian as he hauls her to sit, or to tell him to please let her wrist go, it really hurts, and—
Fabric rustles. Somewhere, scales scrape over the floor.
Oh God, no.
"Go," Addie coughs out, shoving Caspian toward where she thinks the door is. "Please, you have to—"
Twin emerald eyes appear in the smoke behind him, and the firelight glints off bared fangs.
She doesn't even have time to scream his name.
The snake strikes.
Fangs as long as daggers sink past armour, puncturing reinforced leather and metal. Caspian's mouth falls open, shock and pain crumpling his features. Bloody foam drips from his lips, splatters onto his battered chestplate.
His eyes dim as he collapses to the floor.
Addie scrambles up, cradling her burned hand, and runs. Caspian dropped his sword near the bed, the dagger flew off somewhere, and…
Metal clangs as Addie trips over his sword. She lifts it clumsily, its weight unfamiliar and awkward, impossible to swing effectively one-handed.
The snake hisses.
Through the smoke, the bed looms ahead. And there, on the nearest corner, lie the pouches that hold the rings.
Addie drops Caspian's sword and sprints, good hand outstretched. Behind her, that sickening slither of scales rushes closer.
Almost… yes!
Her fingers closes around the gold pouch. She fumbles with the drawstring and shakes the rings out. They twinkle a brilliant sunshine-yellow in the gloom, ready to whisk the first living thing that touches them into the Wood.
Addie shoves a hand in the pouch, using the velvet as a barrier between the ring and her skin, and, spinning, throws a yellow ring right into the snake's open mouth.
Instantly, it vanishes.
"Caspian?"
No answer - only a gurgle.
The world itself seems to shake as Addie rushes to Caspian's side and finds him seizing, eyes rolled back in his head, lips turning blue.
No, no, no, he's—he can't, he—
"Don't you dare," Addie cries, trying to hold him still. "Don't you dare!"
Bloody foam dribbles past his lips.
He needs the cordial.
After she tried to steal it back, Opheodra's kept it tied around her waist. Which means the cordial, if it was still with her in serpent form, is…
The pools must be stable. Opheodra came back when she crossed before.
Addie clutches Caspian's clammy hands. "Hold on, okay? I'll be right back."
He's not going to die, she tells herself, over and over as she races back to the bed and secures a ring in each pouch, then slips the second green one into her skirt pocket, a mad, desperate plan taking shape. He's still alive, idiot, don't cry like he's already dead.
The instant she reaches inside a pouch and touches the yellow ring, Opheodra's room vanishes.
Darkness.
And then, light. Soft, green, like sunbeams through leaves.
Addie grips the rings' pouches, velvet crushed in her fist, and hopes against all hope that she's not hurtling into the snake's open fangs.
There's no splash as she surfaces. One moment, she's floating in the between, and then she's blinking against lazy sunbeams filtering through the lush canopy overhead.
Opheodra is sprawled ahead, half-woman and half-snake, clawing at the perfect grass as she pulls herself toward another pool. Hissing, snapping words bleed from her mouth. Though they sound similar to her ritual magic chants, her voice has no echo beneath it, no sinister underbelly of power.
She sounds like… like just a woman. A sick, dying, furious woman, pale as a sheet.
Queen Lucy's cordial is tied at her waist, hanging from her green kirtle.
Addie holds her purpose close before the Wood's fog sets in. Only two things matter. First, Caspian needs the cordial to survive.
Second, Opheodra can never return to Narnia.
"You…" Opheodra glares over shoulder, her white face twisting as scales soften to a flowing skirt and her body finishes its transformation. "Traitor!"
"As you made me." Addie's hand throbs, the pain a welcome anchor. Opheodra was all too pleased when she obediently trotted around betraying everyone else.
The witch latches onto a tree and slowly pulls herself up, her usually brilliant eyes a dull, flat green. She's weakened, but there's no telling if the Wood's magic will drag her into sleep.
"Faithless girl," the Lady snaps, bracing against the tree. "After all I've done for you!"
"I know. That's why I'm here."
"This is your gratitude?" Opheodra's lips curl back from her teeth. "You betrayed me, Adelaine, and for what?"
Addie clenches her teeth. There isn't time for this! Caspian doesn't have time for this!
But Opheodra won't just hand over the cordial.
Addie steps closer, careful to keep one heel in the water.
"The cordial can't help you, or you'd be using it right now. Give it to me, and I'll give you a green ring. You can go home."
Opheodra laughs, scornful and bitter. "For your precious king? Little mouse, he's already dead."
He isn't!
Addie swallows the agonising possibility that he might be, that this might not matter at all. Even if he… if he's…
There's still Narnia. Caspian would want his people to be safe.
Pulse thudding in her throat, Addie holds up the green pouch.
"Go home, Opheodra. Go anywhere you want."
Opheodra shakes her head, a conqueror's gleam in her gaze. "Not without my army."
"I could always leave, abandon you here."
Opheodra hisses, forked tongue flicking out as her pupils elongate. But the rest of her stays human.
"Take any other world," Addie says, willing her hand to stop shaking. "Any of them, just not this one. Not Narnia."
"Perhaps I'll conquer yours!" Opheodra snarls, lunging forward only to fall to her hands and knees.
Addie catches herself going to help and stops short, holding the green pouch close.
Opheodra has to accept the trade. She has to, or she'll be stuck here.
But she's a proud woman.
"What is your heroic plan, hmm?" Opheodra sits up, and a slight, unsteady echo makes her words carry. "Crawl back to the man who spurned you time and again? It's already too late."
Addie, please. I'm begging you.
There's no way to know.
Addie holds firm and says nothing.
"What fate do you think awaits you in that wretched world? You led their king to his death. Some might say you killed him."
She didn't!
Doesn't matter, because Caspian isn't dead, and he won't be.
But if Opheodra hears too much of her hope…
"Opheodra, please." It's as natural as breathing, to let grief seep into her voice - weakness Opheodra needs to hear. "You… you can have it back afterward. You can take the cordial and the rings and your throne; I won't get in your way."
Opheodra's glower turns up at the corners.
"Oh Adelaine, you poor thing. You must know they'll execute you for everything you've done if you go back."
I know you're in there, Addie.
Addie thinks of Caspian's face, bloodied and bruised, her eyes fill.
"Come with me," Opheodra croons, not as sweetly as her usual poison, but softly enough Addie shivers. "There is no place for you in Narnia. But you shall always have a place by my side."
Addie wiggles her fingers, burned skin cracking and bleeding.
Words that would normally wrap her in relief and belonging now make her stomach clench as she hears the dark promise for what it is.
"The cordial," Addie says. "Or you can rot here for the rest of your days."
She opens the green pouch, slips her hand in, and steps back toward the pool she strayed from.
In an instant, Opheodra's put-on concern splits in two.
"You ungrateful wretch!" the witch shrieks. "This will mean nothing!"
Addie almost shies away from the pure, uncloaked hate in Opheodra's face. But hope keeps her strong, a surge like high tide as the witch yanks the cordial from her kirtle and throws it onto the grass.
I'm coming, Caspian.
Addie tosses the green pouch past Opheodra and dives for the cordial. The witch curses at her, but she hardly hears it. She's already back at the pool to Narnia, her hand in her skirt pocket, a ring cool against her finger.
A shriek of rage chases her, but Opheodra's fury comes too late.
Addie shuts her eyes as the water closes over her head.
When Opheodra's room solidifies around her, the smoke is clearing and Caspian is terribly still.
Addie almost trips over her own feet sprinting to him, his name caught in her throat, tangled with too many apologies he can't hear.
He's still breathing - shallowly, more like a twitch than proper inhales, but breathing.
Alive.
Barely.
Addie swears as she fumbles with Queen Lucy's cordial. Her left hand is useless - red, bleeding, impossible to command - and her right is sweaty with panic.
"Come on, come on!"
Finally, the cap twists off and tings to the floor. Addie opens Caspian's mouth and tips in a drop.
His chest shudders and falls. Doesn't rise again.
She waits.
Nothing.
In the room over, a door slams open, and armoured footsteps rush in.
"Goddammit Caspian, wake up!" Addie whispers.
She lightly slaps his cheek - nothing.
Another drop.
Nothing.
"No. No, you can't do this. You can't just—" A strangled sound cuts her off - a cry, desperate, like some wounded, bleating animal. Me, she realises, the awareness leeching away, utterly unimportant when faced with the horrible, impossible stillness of Caspian's chest.
"You're not. You can't be. You… people need you. They need you, you know that, I know you know that, so don't you fucking dare—" Another raw sound tears her throat, stung by the salt dripping into her mouth.
Behind her, the footsteps clank closer, running, and there are voices. The witch's guards, come too late?
Caspian's sword is half the room away. In reach, if she runs. Burned hand be damned, she can still try!
She caps the cordial, but before she can lunge for the sword, hands close around her shoulders, pulling her away, away, and Caspian is—
She's lifted and dragged aside, kicking uselessly as she screams his name, over and over, prayer after unanswered prayer twisting over each other.
The cordial lies twinkling in the firelight, sparkling like it didn't just fail.
Soldiers surround him, blocking him from view. The wail that tears from her isn't - can't be - human.
And… and neither are two of the surrounding men. They're fauns, which means these must be Caspian's men swarming around him, saying "Your Majesty!" and "Lion's Mane!" and "Tend the king!"
"The cordial," she yells, struggling against the iron grip holding her back, the armoured chest she's held against. "It's right there, use the cordial!"
Suddenly there's a cough and a flurry of movement, some exclamation of "Oh, thank Aslan!"
What a dangerous thing: hope. How treacherously it takes hold of her, renewing her fight, even though she knows better, that the soldier holding her won't let a criminal and a traitor go so easily.
"Stand back, give him some air!" says a faun.
The soldiers stand up unevenly, a smattering of smiles and a sniffle or two. There were eight before, but now…
Nine.
Hope twists, knots into paralysis that steals her voice and turns her limbs to stone.
Through the rushing in her ears, she thinks she hears her name - spoken like a question, hoarse but familiar, so familiar.
The soldiers part, and—
Her name, again, a sharp sigh of two syllables from blood-stained lips.
She can't move, can't reply. Can't even breathe as he takes Queen Lucy's cordial from a faun and rushes over.
A steady grip, warm fingers around her wrist. The return of pain she forgot about, charred skin bleeding, a bloom of clarity.
Caspian tips the cordial over her hand, and a single red drop splashes onto torn flesh.
The pain melts away - slowly, then all at once, like water from a broken pot.
Addie breathes, and Caspian is still there. Her eyes flutter, blinking back more tears, and is it possible that she's not imagining… that he's really…
Her left hand is whole and spotless, skin stretched over bone and sinew, a lifetime's worth of mistakes erased as if by magic.
And still, Caspian, here. Breathing, alive, his thumb stroking her wrist, lingering over a vein.
His chestplate has two holes at his shoulder, but the skin exposed there is smooth.
Caspian looks past her and nods. The hands on her arms fall away, the wall of armour retreating.
Addie sways. Caspian steadies her, and her face twists.
"Are you alright, Addie?" He's saying, sharp with urgency, like he's been repeating the same question for some time. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Her throat contracts around a sob she swallows, because if she's crying she can't see him.
Addie reaches up to feel for herself that he's whole, that this isn't another trick of the witch's magic. Caspian's skin is warm with life, his pulse a steady hum against her fingertips.
Her mouth moves on its own.
"Am I hurt?" Addie looks at him, incredulous. "Am I…?"
Caspian's brow furrows.
Addie curls her fingers through the holes in his armour and sniffles.
"What the hell were you—Why would you—Caspian, what is wrong with you?" She shakes him, suddenly shouting, ragged with grief so pungent it's fury. "You charge in here alone, swinging your sword around like some goddamn stupid hero, like you're not the King of Narnia, and you—you almost—and she almost—"
Addie shakes him again for good measure, trying to rattle some too-late common sense into that royal head of his. And all the while, Caspian just stares at her.
"You almost died!" she screams. "I thought you had, you—you're the king, you're the king, you can't just—you can't do that, you—you bull-headed, asinine idiot!"
Her sobs wrench free, a dam breaking to flood a valley. Caspian's grip tightens, probably a warning or a silent plea to shut up, but she falls into him, balance lost, distantly aware she shouldn't, that she has no right to, but Caspian isn't pushing her away - he can't be pulling her in, she's imagining that - and he's alivehe'salivehe'salive.
Caspian is alive and wrapping strong, steady arms around her, and she's too grateful, too greedy, to do anything but cling to him.
Caspian
Addie, my Addie. There you are.
Caspian tucks Addie into his chest and holds on so tightly his arms tremble. His hands roam - chastely, seeking injuries he might have missed. Mercifully, he finds none.
None of the body, that is.
All the while, Addie mumbles an endless litany of shaky curses and scoldings, her tears hot on his neck as he presses his lips to her hair.
Lion, he could listen to her berate him for hours, because Addie's voice sounds like her again - boiling over with terror and fury, but her. Full of spitfire, soft with…
You almost died! You can't do that!
Is it care or guilt wracking her so?
"Don't you ever do anything like that again," Addie warbles.
Caspian holds her impossibly tighter. "I could say the same to you."
Addie hiccups and throws her arms around him at last, inhaling shakily when she finds the other two punctures behind his shoulder, though the wound itself is no more.
He remembers little of it. He knows Addie attacked him - on the witch's command, no doubt - and he couldn't bring himself to truly hurt her. He threw down his sword to ensure he wouldn't.
After a brief struggle, Addie seemed to be fighting the ensorcellment and thrust her hand into the fire, and just when his wits cleared enough for him to stop her…
Agony. There was pain, a scorching flood of venom, a hiss, and the last thing he saw was the shadow of a monstrous snake.
A soldier coughs, and a few more shuffle and glance away.
"The gnomes?" Caspian asks them, absently stroking Addie's tangled hair.
"Awakened from their enchantment," Aimar answers. "And mightily anxious to be free of this place."
"They gave us no trouble once we explained our purpose was to end the witch's reign," a faun, Oslus, chimes in. "Is she slain?"
That, he does not know - only that the witch is no longer here.
The last he saw, she was chasing Addie.
"Addie." Reluctantly, Caspian takes her by the chin and pulls back to look in her eyes.
Hazel, rimmed in red. Not a hint of green from any angle.
Caspian cups her face. "Addie, where is the witch?"
She shivers, but Addie answers quickly. "Gone. She's… here." Addie reaches into her pocket and produces a green ring and the yellow pouch. These, she gives to him. "After she… when you were—"
A tear slips down her cheek. Caspian gently wipes it away.
With a shuddering breath, Addie gathers herself and continues. "I got to the rings first. The Wood weakens her, stops her magic, so I trapped her there."
But Addie is holding a green ring and a yellow pouch - yellow to travel, green to return. If the witch has a pair of rings, she isn't trapped at all.
At his frown, Addie loosens the drawstring. Caspian stops her as she reaches inside. He has no desire to be swept into the Wood.
"It's fine, it's not—look, it's green."
Green?
Caspian lets her tip the ring into his hand, and it is, indeed, the second green ring.
"I followed her, and I tricked her," Addie explains. "She has both yellow rings; she can't go anywhere. And the cordial, it's here, I brought it back."
Addie followed the witch, and she brought back Queen Lucy's cordial?
The cordial is the only reason he's still alive.
Addie saved his life.
As he stares, imagining Addie facing down the serpent - alone - and tricking the very witch who ensorcelled her and hundreds more, Addie puts both rings in the pouch and closes his fingers around it. When she meets his gaze, her eyes are filling.
"Caspian, I… I'm so sorry I took them, I… She…"
Her tears overflow again, sorrow he's quick to wipe away, but he has no words for the knot in his chest.
But he has words enough for her.
"She's gone now," he says. "You're safe."
Caspian folds Addie back into his arms and accepts his sword from Oslus. There is much still to be done.
Before leaving the relative safety of the castle, they gather more rations, blankets, and torches and peer out the windows to assess the state of Underland. Three hours ago, Caspian would have been certain that all the witch's former slaves would be relieved at their newfound freedom. But after Hallgrim…
He cannot assume his remaining troops will find only goodwill awaiting them.
Below, the steady hum of work has stopped. Sacks and hammers and axes lie scattered in the streets, and the gnomes seem to be hiding, darting from shadow to shadow in small, organised groups of six or less. What few humans he spotted earlier are nowhere to be seen.
Behind the castle, a red, glowing seam has opened in the earth. Gnomes run to it a few at a time and disappear over the edge, crawling down into whatever fiery pit lies beneath the broken ground.
"Making their escape, by the looks of it," says Aimar. "One fellow said something about going home."
Addie flinches, her eyes glazed over. Frowning, Caspian squeezes her shoulder.
More pressingly, the sea has risen to claim half of the city. Rowing ships float through the flooded streets - some have rammed into buildings, others into each other. A few still bob in the water, their decks empty and lifeless. One or two of them may still be seaworthy, but even the smallest would need a crew of at least twenty-four, by his estimation.
Caspian has only ten, counting himself. Addie is far too unwell to take a turn at the oars.
He hopes the sailors evacuated to higher ground, that the black sea has not robbed them of their lives at the very cusp of freedom. And he prays there are enough of them willing to join him to make a complete crew.
"I don't like the looks of that," mutters a soldier. "If that flood continues, this mountain'll be an island inside three hours."
Caspian gently nudges Addie. He's kept her under his arm, and mercifully, she's not protested.
"Addie, are there any paths to the surface on this side of the sea?"
She stirs as if waking from a dream. Slowly, Addie nods. "I think so. The—Opheodra, she mentioned two under construction. I think one's supposed to come up near the river. I don't know if it's finished."
As he feared, the sea may be their only escape.
"We must go now, before the sea encroaches further," Caspian says. "Men, be ready, but present no threat unless provoked. These poor souls may yet be our friends."
The first gnomes they find are the two Caspian knocked out. At the sight of him, they bleat and scurry down the hall.
"Peace, my good sirs!" Caspian calls, stepping forward with his hands palms out. "We are not your enemies."
"No? Oo-ee-ee, but you might be!" says the shorter one, with a nasally squeal.
"Begging your pardon," says the second, hunched over like he's bracing for a lashing. "But if you serve Her Grace, then you are no friend to us."
"Then you will doubtless be glad to know Her Grace has been thoroughly and irrevocably banished," Caspian answers. "You are free of her wicked influence once and for all."
"Banished?" The taller gnome blinks his owl-eyes and scratches his snub nose. "Are you quite certain?"
"Yes."
Caspian turns to find Addie peeking from behind him, her voice a-tremble but a determined set to her spine.
"She's gone now," Addie continues. "Gone for good. You're safe, you can… you can go home."
The gnomes let loose with a whoop and a cheer that echoes off the walls, but Caspian's gaze is fixed on Addie as he suddenly realises that she can't. With both yellow rings lost to the Wood, Addie has no way to return to England.
Not only did she save his life, but she gave up her home to do so.
Caspian gathers himself enough to urge the gnomes to go spread the glad tidings to all their fellows. As they cartwheel off down the hall, chanting "the witch is gone, we're free, we're free," he takes Addie's hand, throat tight with gratitude no words can express.
He still tries, leaning down to murmur his thanks into her ear.
Addie says nothing, but her brow knits as if in pain.
He'll address it later, when they've escaped the threat of drowning.
By the time they exit the castle, with two dazed human servants in tow, the city is alight with dancing and fireworks, multicoloured lights reflecting off the rising water. The gnomes seem remarkably unconcerned with the sea's advance; they cartwheel and jump through the streets, splashing like children, their construction tools cast aside, their fireworks casting vibrant red, gold, and purple on their clay-grey skin.
They're almost unrecognisable from their dismal, enchanted selves. They greet Caspian's company with cheers, easily parting to let them through.
Addie does not seem to share their joy. She hasn't said a word since they left the castle. While the gnomes are vibrant with their freedom, Addie looks stricken whenever she sees them.
Caspian keeps her close and does not ask. There will be time later, when Underland is behind them.
From the gnomes, he learns there is a path to the surface from here, but they'll have to cross the flood to reach it. If they hurry, the current will still be manageable.
"Dreadful road, that one," says a horned gnome who's kind enough to pause in his jig to give directions. "So near the surface, dear me! A few hours' digging would send you tumbling out into Overland."
"Thank you, my good sir," Caspian says, nearly shouting to be heard over the celebrations. "Spread the word we are headed that way; I fear there are more of my kind still trapped here."
"Sons of Adam? That's easy enough!" The gnome points again to the path, dimly lit by Underland's blue lanterns. "We've been sending them up there. You know, not a one of them's accepted our invitation to Bism?"
When Caspian asks what Bism is, half a dozen gnomes chime in, talking over each other in a cacophony of enthusiasm.
"—Deep Land—"
"—fire river—"
"—living gems, mind you—"
"—most splendid witticisms—"
Bism, from what he can gather, is a fiery land deep below even this underground land, home to the gnomes, and the witch tore them from its comforts some months ago. Caspian thanks them and makes to move on, but Addie hangs back.
"Excuse me," she says, barely intelligible over the gnomes' chattering. "But do you have fire gods in Bism?"
A pug-nosed gnome with the gangly stature of a Marshwiggle is kind enough to answer her.
"Fire gods?" he says. "No, I'd not call the salamanders gods. You really ought to come meet them; they're wonderfully clever with riddles, you know. Just don't look directly at them - rather too bright for your eyes, I'd think."
Addie's face falls. Caspian takes her arm to hurry her along. Much as he would marvel to see Bism with his own eyes or listen to the gnomes' stories, they have no time.
"Best hurry," she calls over her shoulder. "I don't think the earth will stay open forever."
Did she witness the witch summoning these creatures?
Another question for later.
Caspian makes for the distant, lantern-lit path, pulling Addie with him as his soldiers make way through the crowd.
When they reach the passage, the dip has flooded as high as his waist. They have to cross in pairs to better withstand the current. Caspian calls his strongest man - a Telmarine from Ettinsmoor with a barrel of a chest - and crosses with Addie between them. She's keeping up, but her feet have been dragging for ten minutes. Her strength is already flagging.
The fording leaves them all wet and shivering. With the flood licking at their heels, they jog up the steep incline into the tunnel. Caspian orders the torches be saved for an emergency, so the long, dusty trek is lit only by Underland's pale blue lanterns. They appear to be illuminated by moss-covered stones, which shine dimmer than the glow-moths.
At the first bend, they find other humans - sailors, gaunt and pale but alert. They spin around, startled, half of the twenty brandishing pickaxes and hammers as if to fight for their newfound freedom.
I need no magic to serve my lady.
Or, perhaps, to avenge their mistress.
"Peace," Caspian says, hands out in placation as he nudges Addie behind him. "We mean you no harm."
"You're free now," Addie adds unsteadily, as if she's caught in a dream. "It's alright, she's gone."
Murmurs ripple through the men and their posture relaxes, though disbelief still haunts the more haggard faces.
"Is this true?" A man pushes through the group, and they part to reveal the same captain Caspian bluffed into granting him passage. His voice is clearer, his weathered features the same yet different - as if a great weight has been cast off.
"Yes." Caspian watches him in case the man reaches for his cutlass, but the captain only frowns.
"Your face is known to me, soldier. Tell me, did you serve in the Ettinsmoor—" The captain cuts himself off with a gasp. "King Caspian?"
Caspian nods cautiously. "I am he."
The captain is kneeling before he finishes speaking, unstrapping his sword and offering it on flat palms. All the sailors follow suit, casting down their weapons and kneeling in fealty.
"Lion bless you, Your Majesty," the captain says, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "We had lost hope of any deliverance until this very hour."
There is no air of deception about this man - only gratitude and relief.
Caspian accepts the sword and helps the captain to his feet.
He should have come sooner.
"Do you know this road?" Caspian asks. "The gnomes told me this path leads to Ettinsmoor, but it may not yet be complete."
"I have no more information, Sire," says the captain. "The gnomes said this was the only way to the surface from this shore. We thought it best not to risk a sea crossing in this flood."
The sailors mutter agreement, wisdom proven by the sound of a ship crashing against the rapidly submerging city behind them.
Suddenly, the ground shudders. It begins as a rumble like a company of snoring minotaurs, but swiftly builds into a violent, deafening shaking.
The force of it throws them all to the floor. Caspian pulls Addie into him to break her landing and rolls to cover her from the falling pebbles and dust as he prays the tunnel won't cave in.
"The crack's closing!" someone shouts.
One less place for the flood to go.
Caspian pushes Addie against the nearest wall, wishing he had a better shield than only his body.
With a final thunderous crash, the earth stills.
Miraculously, the tunnel holds.
The others stir, coughing cave dust. Caspian gets to his feet and brushes off Addie first, shaking her when she stares blankly ahead.
"Addie?"
Her eyes focus - hazel and haunted.
"I'm fine," she says.
More reflex than truth, that - hollow and unconvincing.
A problem for later; over the scattered calls of alarm and relief, the sound of rushing water grows louder.
Caspian raises his voice to be heard. "Up, and onward! We've no time to waste!"
With Addie tucked into his side, he takes the lead with his men, and the formerly enchanted fall in behind.
Eventually, despite the need for haste, they have to catch their breath. They sink to the uneven ground and rest against the earthen walls, their pants echoing in the tunnel. The roof is now low enough to see, and the path only narrows further up.
The gnome said the workers were several hours from breaking through. They'll likely have to dig their way out.
Caspian tries not to dwell on it. Queen Lucy's cordial renewed his strength, and there will be time enough to rest when they're safely in Ettinsmoor. Reinforcements must have reached the manor by now.
When they distribute rations, Addie picks at hers, as if every bite is a struggle. She's barely managed half before she's packing her portion away.
"Finish it," Caspian murmurs. "You need your strength."
Addie purses her lips, but she takes a few more bites before stopping again.
Caspian sighs and doesn't press.
After the quick meal, they get to their feet and set off once more.
When the winding tunnel is so low Caspian has to bend to keep from bumping his head, the tunnel ends. Shovels and pickaxes litter the ground, and the lanterns are closer together. Mercifully, the water seems to have slowed. After hours upon hours - perhaps a full day, by now - of climbing with precious little rest, they've outpaced the flood.
At the sight of the digging tools, everyone surges forward with newfound urgency. Even Addie rallies, despite the exhaustion bowing her posture.
Caspian calls order before eagerness turns to reckless digging.
"We'll work in shifts," he says. "When we break through, we'll likely have days yet of travel on foot."
He assigns himself with half his strongest soldiers and another seven of what others have strength enough for hard labour to the first shift. Addie, he ushers to rest against the nearest wall - out of the way, but in his sight.
As the hours of backbreaking work tick by, she barely moves. She doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, though she must be famished and exhausted. Twice, her eyes drift closed and she slumps, but she startles awake almost instantly.
Many of the disenchanted are similarly restless. When his soldiers distribute the rations, only five of the witch's former slaves accept food: the captain and four of the diggers. The others stare into nothing, absently passing the offered meal down the line.
For a third time, Addie's head lolls.
She jerks upright with a soft gasp. Caspian sets aside his pickaxe and goes to comfort her, but Addie is already on her feet, marching toward him with her mouth set in a determined line.
On her way, she grabs a shovel.
"No." Caspian intercepts her with a hand to her shoulder. "Addie, you should be—"
"Please." Addie's voice wavers. "Please, I… I need to be doing something. I won't get in the way, I just…"
She needs a distraction.
With a nod, Caspian lets her pass.
Addie takes to the work at hand with steely, single-minded focus. And with every shovelful of dirt and stone she moves, the tension in her face bleeds away until her expression is blank and easy.
When the first shift ends, Addie persists. How she still has strength, he knows not, but there is a certain… peace about her. A sorely needed tranquillity he can't bring himself to disturb.
Handing off his pickaxe, Caspian wipes his sweaty brow and takes his meal with his men, reviewing the digging's progress and the quickest routes back to the manor depending on where they might surface. It'll be easier to plan when they can see landmarks and get their bearings properly.
The earth is colder and wetter, and the men found a few sparse roots.
The surface is near.
Halfway through the second shift, Addie stumbles. Caspian's beside her in an instant, casting the shovel aside and pulling her away.
She makes no protest - the most damning indictment of her fatigue there could ever be. Of the rations he offers, she takes little: a sliver of dried meat and a bit of hard cheese. But she eats.
Sleep is another matter. Caspian drifts in and out, unable to truly rest as axes and shovels chisel away at the earth. Every time he comes to, Addie is staring at the ceiling.
The witch is gone; this, he knows. Yet Addie is so still, so inanimate, that alarm flares in his chest.
"Addie."
She blinks and meets his eyes.
Hazel.
Caspian exhales relief.
"Try to sleep," he murmurs.
Addie looks down, picking at a cuticle, and shakes her head.
While some of the disenchanted have surrendered to sleep - often waking themselves and others with their tortured mutterings - Addie keeps herself awake, though she seems to be fighting a losing battle. Her blinks are long and slow, and her chin is dropping toward her chest.
When her eyes close, Caspian rests her head on his shoulder. The armour he's kept on as a precaution won't be a comfortable pillow, but it's better than nothing.
No sooner has he settled her than the earth ahead crumbles, and sunlight spills into the tunnel. Addie jolts, eyes wide and her pulse trilling rabbit-fast against his fingertips.
"We're free. We're free!"
"Sire, we've broken through!"
"Keep at it, men!" says the captain.
Snow gusts in on a frigid wind as the men widen the opening and clear the debris. Clods of earth echo as they fall onto the frozen river below, and a steep cliff-side looms ahead - the other side of the Great Northern River.
When the way is clear, Caspian takes Addie's hand in his and steps out into the light.
A/N: And that's Heartworm! I hope y'all enjoyed that conclusion as much as I loved writing it ❤ Drop your final predictions for what Addie and Caspian will get up to in the coming chapters in the comments!
Soooo who's excited for Part 5: Amneria? 👀 Chapter 89 will go up in 2 weeks! If you've been chafing for the happily ever after, Part 5 is all about getting us there, finally 😇
Chapter 89 Preview:
Addie shies away as if the pouch holds poison.
"No, I… I'll manage."
Strangely, Rainroot doesn't insist.
"Is that all?" Caspian says. "Is there nothing else you can do?"
