A/N: I live! Kidding, I've been up all night, so I am in fact a blurry-eyed cryptid come to haunt the keyboard once more. Right, on to the chapter! I hope y'all are buckled in because this one's Fun.
Oh, and if this chapter title sounds familiar, it's because I realised at about 4AM this morning that the song I picked for Ch. 73 is in fact much better for this chapter, so I did a lil switch-a-roo and also changed the Ch 78 song, because second-guessing myself is one of my all-time favorite hobbies.
Chapter 79 Content Warnings: magic rituals, general ensorcellment
Chapter 79: take me to your city
Addie
It's cold out on the moors.
Last night's powdery snowfall sparkles under the pale winter sunlight, chunks of compacted snow falling from the horses' hooves. The wind comes in bursts, howling and whispering and curling with its own will, but always frigid. It's a cold that hurts to breathe and makes bones shiver.
Gritting her teeth, Addie pulls her fur-lined cloak tighter. Ettinsmoor is beautiful - in the way of stark, unforgiving things - but she hopes Opheodra's realm is warmer.
By late afternoon, an arched stone bridge as tall as a castle tower lies before them, spanning the gorge marking Ettinsmoor's northern border. Snow and ice crust the steep cliffs, their stone faces pockmarked with occasional grottoes and caves. Below, the Great Northern Rivers froths over jagged rocks, its distant roar barely audible over the wind.
Opheodra leads the way on Snowflake, approaching the Giant bridge as if the cracked and crumbling stones are old friends.
Addie chews her lip. It's high. If any stone gives way…
"Come, Addie," calls Opheodra, slowing Snowflake to a trot. "We may sleep in comfort on the morrow."
Opheodra's voice whips away Addie's hesitation, and she follows, with the northmen's stoic presence close behind.
Sunset bathes the road in short-lived red-gold brilliance quickly hidden in the shadow of the mountains towering around their small party. There's nothing here but rocks, weeds, and whatever creatures are hardy enough to survive - mountain goats, birds of prey, hibernating bears, wolves.
Addie fights a yawn and takes an apple from her saddlebag, enough to sate her hunger without spoiling her appetite. Opheodra said a feast will await them in her realm, but they must have hours yet to ride.
A howl echoes down the mountain.
Addie drops her apple. The horses dance in place, heads high and ears flicking.
Up the rocky terrain, loping forms creep through the shadows - too large to be mere beasts, too hunched to be men.
Opheodra soothes Snowflake and continues on, unflinching. When Addie cranes to look at the northmen, their hands hover near their weapons - sword for one, battle-axe for the other.
Addie's bay tosses its head and jumps into a trot, its pace tight and coiled. With a curse, Addie re-centres herself in the saddle and grips the reins.
"Opheodra?" Addie calls. "Shouldn't we -"
"Come along!" urges Opheodra. "They will soon pose no danger."
Addie glances back again. The taller northman draws his broadsword with a dull ring, his brown eyes scanning the landscape.
She doesn't even know their names.
When she asks for it, the shorter one - with the light brown beard and softer shoulders - volunteers his.
"Varn. And that's Hallgrim."
Hallgrim - who almost lost a leg protecting her - points to the road ahead, his icy gaze trained up the mountain opposite them.
"Ride on, milady," he says.
Addie follows his line of sight. "You see something?"
Hallgrim grips his sword, arm flexing with muscles as thick as Addie's neck.
"Not yet," he repeats. "Go."
"Addie, don't tarry!" Opheodra calls, a vision of flowing spring-green silk as Snowflake prances ahead. "Our journey beckons."
Varn nudges his horse into a walk and stops beside Addie.
"Best heed Her Grace," he says. "We'll be along shortly."
"Adelaine!"
Palms clammy, Addie ignores a pinch of nerves and obeys.
Opheodra steers Snowflake to the right, following a narrow path up a mountain face. The four of them ride single-file over packed snow until Opheodra leads them into a cave. Addie ducks to enter, but the ceiling opens up quickly, tall enough for even the northmen to ride comfortably.
Addie slows her horse and looks back. The northmen haven't come yet, though no sounds of battle echo from below.
"Shouldn't we wait?"
"They will follow," says Opheodra, without sparing a glance. "They have some loose ends to tidy."
"Loose ends? The wolves?"
Addie's brow furrows, a fleeting memory prodding her mind. At Osta, the werewolves hesitated a moment before attacking Opheodra's soldiers.
The image fades away like smoke, carried away on a dank draught wafting from the cave's depths.
Opheodra's face floats into focus. Addie's horse shifts, whuffing as Snowflake comes beside them.
"I see our travels have wearied you," Opheodra croons. "Fret not; you may rest on the sea."
Addie straightens, grimacing at her sore bum, and urges her horse onward. "What sea? The Eastern Sea?"
The Eastern Sea is the only Narnian ocean she knows of; open tundra lies north of the Wild Lands, Narnia and Archenland lie to the south, and Telmar and dense woods to the west. They've been travelling north all day, the sun slowly arcing from their right to their left.
Opheodra smiles. "No, not the Eastern Sea. You will see it in due time."
A question bubbles up, only to dissolve on her tongue like overripe fruit. Instead, Addie smiles and says nothing. She hasn't come this far without trusting her Lady.
"Addie, be a dear and light us a torch."
Dutifully, Addie fetches one from her saddlebags. At first, she fumbles with the steel and flint, but finally the sparks catch on the torch's resin head, and it flares to life. For a moment, its light beats back the dark and cold, and Addie basks in the heat and pine-fragrant smoke.
A memory whispers at the edges of awareness, of earthen tunnels and a prince's cloak.
Addie flinches, and it evaporates effortlessly, like a drop of water on a searing pan.
There is only Lady Opheodra's indulgent smile, golden in the orange light, and the long stretch of darkness ahead.
When Opheodra clicks Snowflake onward, Addie keeps pace without needing to be asked.
The cave is endless - a winding tunnel leading them ever downwards, beneath the mountains and moors until Addie's pulse pounds just thinking of the weight of the earth above them.
The clip-clop of their horses' hooves echoes deep into the tunnel, filling the surrounding space with oppressive noise. Gradually, the rhythm is joined by a distant pitter-patter, rising over the minutes to more clip-clip-clopping hooves as another torch follows them around a bend. The northmen say nothing as they approach, but nod at Lady Opheodra when she turns to face them.
Addie can't help but notice Hallgrim's armour shines slick with blood, but when she asks, he denies that it's his. Varn is much the same, but at her question, he spits onto the cave floor.
"Vermin," he says.
Addie frowns, concern bubbling up - a trained reflex to the sight of blood. She brought a few herbs and bandages, but she's not a healer by trade.
"But you're unhurt?"
Varn and Hallgrim trade a look.
Eventually, with torchlight shining on the blood flecked on his cheek, Hallgrim answers.
"Yes," he says, quieter than she's ever heard him speak. "Unhurt."
"Good," Addie says. After all, it'd be a waste of the fireflower cordial if he died of infection mere weeks later.
They ride on.
Time loses meaning as the horses plod downhill, always downhill. Addie focuses on her empty stomach, mourning her lost apple so she won't think about the miles of rocks above or wonder if the tunnel's ever caved in.
Opheodra is calm, so she shouldn't worry. Opheodra wouldn't bring her here if it was dangerous.
The tunnel narrows and forces their party of four to ride single-file. Varn takes the lead, torch held high, followed by Opheodra. Addie gives Hallgrim her torch and falls in behind, grateful the northman is between her and the darkness filling in after them.
It's warmer now, strangely. Warm enough to shed her cloak, but Addie only lowers her hood and lets herself sweat beneath her clothes. She needs the comfort of something around her.
Ahead, the echoes of hooves grow louder, clopping over stone instead of packed earth. Varn's torch illuminates an archway, and all at once, the narrow path widens into a large cavern. For a moment, Addie breathes easier just having space again.
Until she looks up and can't see the ceiling. Only blackness.
Her breath catches in her throat, frozen, then returns harsh and too fast. Addie digs her nails into her palms, crescent-shaped pinpricks bringing sense.
She's fine, this is fine. Her Lady knows this path, knows what she's doing.
A horse trots up beside her, and Hallgrim's voice cuts through the fog in her ears.
"You'll get used to it, milady," he says, his tone brusque but his eyes slightly softer.
Addie's exhale shakes. "How long did it take you?"
Hallgrim shrugs, his chainmail rattling under his fur mantle. "Few trips. Keep your eyes ahead. Her Grace knows every path through Underland."
"How did she find them?"
"I have known the dark places of this world long before you were ever born, Adelaine."
Addie startles, flushing at her rudeness, though Opheodra shows no overt displeasure. She doesn't even turn around.
Opheodra raises her hands above her head and brings them together in a sharp clap. As the sound ripples and echoes through the cavern, tiny blue lights spread overhead. They're too dim to be proper stars, but Addie peers up, hoping to see a night sky winking down at her. Below, the lights spread, and Addie breathes in wonder and awe. They've stepped from a path under the world and into the space between stars.
Addie blinks as a water droplet hits her nose. Wiping it away, she looks closer.
It's not stars, nor the sky. It's only the cavern ceiling, higher than the castle throne room and riddled with shining rock formations that occasionally drip water into the vast space. Each drop ripples the cavern floor, betraying a vast lake that reflects the lights above, a breathtaking and illusory mirror-sea of stars. The ripples quiver to the waters' edge - ripples that return, unlike the pools in the Wood Between Worlds.
Above, the lights flit within tiny areas, illuminating hair-thin threads dangling a few inches below.
Opheodra's clear voice sends another echo through the room, brightening the lights. "Douse the torches. We shan't need them until the pale beaches."
The northmen obey, leaving them guided only by the strange blue luminescence.
Addie gawks as they continue.
"What are they?" she asks. "Some kind of insect?"
"Bioluminescent larvae," Opheodra answers. "Sound awakens them. After a few months, they mature into glow-moths - much like the fireflies of Overland, but for their softer light."
Overland is what Opheodra calls Narnia, Ettinsmoor, all the lands under the sky - a name she only started using on this journey.
Addie steers her horse away from the lake's edge. She'd rather not disturb its peace.
Suddenly, Addie's stomach rumbles, the growl of hunger echoing in the cavern.
For God's sake!
Addie turns to rummage in her saddlebag, silently cursing the wolves for costing her an apple.
"Here."
Addie finds Hallgrim beside her again, his hand extended toward her, thick fingers dwarfing the apple in his palm.
She thanks him and accepts it.
The glowing insects light their path from the cavern into another tunnel, steeper but wider than the last. Addie grips the saddle, her thighs and back protesting sharply, and lapses into silence.
When her stomach again voices its hunger, the glowworms are sparser and sparser, and darkness closes around them. Opheodra orders the torches be lit again, and with a strike of flint and stone, fire flares to life in Varn and Hallgrim's care, illuminating a strip of pale sand that disappears into still, black water. A rowboat is beached on the shore, its stern tied to a sturdy pole.
"Is this the pale beach?" Addie says, following suit as the others dismount.
Opheodra beckons her toward the boat. "It is. Varn, tend the horses until a ship comes to fetch you."
The northman bows. "Your Grace."
Meanwhile, Hallgrim loads all but Varn's saddlebag into the boat and offers his hand to Opheodra, who steps gracefully aboard.
Addie hesitates. She'd rather not leave anyone behind in the dark.
"When's the next ship coming?"
"Shortly," Opheodra answers. "Come, Adelaine."
A horse snorts, and Addie spares a glance for the animals and Varn, who's retrieved a small flask from his saddlebag and toasts their coming departure.
Lady Opheodra takes her place at the ship's bow, sitting in a cushioned chair with a backrest elegantly carved into a snake's head, while Addie sits at the stern. Hallgrim unties the boat and heaves, grunting as the boat scrapes over the sand and into the water. Stomach flipping, Addie clutches the boat's sides and prays she won't turn green. There's no cordial to save her from seasickness here.
The bone-white sand billows under the water, marking their passage. Addie dips her fingers into the water and finds it cold to touch.
Hallgrim doesn't seem to mind his wet boots as he vaults into the boat, sets his torch aloft midships, and takes his place at the oars.
Addie trails her hand in the water, staring as her ripples meet the oars' disturbances and Varn shrinks into the distance, their four horses his only company.
"Is it far?" she murmurs.
Lady Opheodra crosses her ankles and relaxes into her throne.
"Not far at all."
Varn is still visible when out of the darkness, a line of pale blue lanterns approaches, illuminating a long, flat ship gliding through the glassy water. Dip-splash go the oars in perfect rhythm.
The ship isn't as large as the ships moored at Cair Paravel's docks; it doesn't have sails or a raised quarterdeck, but it's wider and longer, a sleek vessel as unnervingly quiet as the Sunless Sea itself. A snake is the ship's figurehead, fangs and forked tongue bared in a menacing hiss.
Addie tangles her fingers in her lap, picking at her cloak's fur lining. As Hallgrim rows them around the bow, the snake seems to stare at her imperiously.
With a shiver, Addie looks away.
Hallgrim rows beside the ship, where a swing-like lift hangs at the ready. At Opheodra's beckon, Addie wobbles over and stands on the wooden plank with her, the damp, coarse rope chafing her chilled palm as they're lifted aboard. Hallgrim climbs aboard using a rope ladder rolled down the ship's side, his boots and pants still wet from their departure on the beach.
Meanwhile, the crew rig and lower a second crane for their rowboat. The moment it settles on deck, the men hurry to unpack their bags and take them below.
An arm slithers through the crook of Addie's elbow.
"Welcome aboard the Emerald Krait," says Opheodra. "She shall carry us across the Sunless Sea."
Admiration comes slower than it should, good manners and deference snagging on irrational nerves.
"It's quite a ship." Addie summons a grateful smile.
A short man with a scraggly beard but well-kept clothes approaches and bows to Opheodra.
"We're ready to depart on your word, my lady."
"Then do so with all haste. There is much to be done," Opheodra says with a wave of her hand, already walking toward the stern. The man - captain or a first mate, most likely - backs away, still bowing.
Addie and Hallgrim move to follow Opheodra, but she dismisses them, too.
"Remain on deck as you please, Adelaine; the time is yours. I must retire to my quarters. Hallgrim, see that I'm not disturbed, and inform me of our arrival."
Addie steps forward. "Do you need anything?"
"How thoughtful you are." Opheodra half-turns at the stairs leading below deck. "I require only rest for what is to come. You, too, should rest, my dear. You will need it."
Rest would be lovely; God only knows how long it's been since they set out from the manor.
Addie nods, eyelids heavy.
"Hallgrim, show my guest to her quarters when she's ready."
At the northman's bow, Opheodra disappears into the ship's underbelly. Though it's dimly lit, her light footsteps pad on until a door clicks shut behind her.
The ship shifts beneath Addie's feet. In near-total silence, the crewmen set to the oars again, pulling the ship through the shadowy sea.
"You should retire, as Her Grace said."
Addie turns to Hallgrim, a slight breeze stirring her hair. "How long is the journey from here?"
The northman hovers near the stairs, his face impassive as ever. "Two days, perhaps three. It's difficult to track without the sun and stars."
A sudden inhale draws Addie's eye. The oarsman nearest to them has straightened, his knuckles white as he grips his oar and doesn't row. His pale face, unlined by age, seems frozen in a muddled frown.
The bearded captain from before strides down the deck, beady eyes fixed on the motionless oarsman. At the sound of footsteps, the crewman jerks back to life, rowing in time with his fellows. Yet he still sits stiffly, his breathing rasping.
The captain turns away.
Steadying herself, Addie wanders to the railing and runs her hand over the polished wood, tracing its intricate, scale-like pattern.
"How do you tell time? Is there a clock aboard?"
Hallgrim's bulk shadows her. "We don't need to. All is as Her Grace wills it."
From the corner of her eye, she sees the oarsman slump, posture now identical to the rest of the crew.
Addie's eyebrows draw together, something souring in her stomach.
She breathes, and the sick feeling vanishes.
Seasickness. She's prone to it.
"You must be tired," Hallgrim says.
Addie nods and follows him belowdecks, past an ornate door carved with similar figures to the Giant Bridge - giants brandishing clubs, minotaurs, centipedes, and gods wielding spears and blowing wind. A single serpent frames the scene, twin emeralds inset for its eyes.
Hallgrim leads her to the next door, into a small cabin with a bunk, a hammock, a wash bin with a round mirror hung above, a nightstand, and her saddlebag. At once, Addie sinks gratefully onto the bed, fighting a groan as her sore ass meets the plush mattress. If she ever rides a horse again, it'll be too soon.
Before she can thank him, Hallgrim closes the door and his heavy footsteps fade away down the hall.
She's alone.
Addie toes off her boots and wiggles her toes, wincing as her calves protest. Taking off her cloak and dress proves painful - her arms are strong, but horseback riding has strained muscles she didn't even know she had.
At least that part of the journey's over.
With a sigh, Addie peels back the blankets and slides between the sheets, welcoming the idea of sleep.
It doesn't come.
Addie stares at the ceiling - planked wood, almost black, with a long grain - and wills her body to rest. The ship hardly rocks and she ate recently, so there's no reason for her stomach to be pinching.
It's too quiet - like the water outside, the ship, the crew, the very air itself is waiting for something.
Eventually, she slips into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.
The journey drags on, the constant darkness obscuring the passage of time. Addie sleeps too much, loath to leave the comfort of bed when her whole body aches from the journey. Without the sun to coax her to rise, she drifts between sleep and wakefulness until her stomach growls insistently.
Lady Opheodra remains locked away in her cabin, so Addie eats in her room and tries to stave off boredom by sketching the ship's intricate carvings, squinting in the dim, bluish light of the lanterns. She doesn't recognise the wood, and when she asks the man with the scraggly beard - Captain Gamal, as he introduces himself the third time she asks - he merely shrugs and says, "Deepwood."
When she runs out of carvings to draw, Addie tries to capture the oarsmen and the empty sea. All around, the water is still but for the ripples cast by their oars and the ship's wake. The eternal night beyond the lanterns is absolute, impenetrable, and she wishes the glowworms from the mirror cave were here, too.
She draws them, too.
Soon, Addie's stylus is a nub, worn down to nothing after so much shading.
Opheodra hasn't emerged, and Hallgrim guards her door.
With nothing else to do - the ship has no galley - Addie wanders the deck.
The Krait is no Lily of the River - this crew mans the oars in silence as the captain walks the deck. No one sings or starts playful duels. The oarsmen never look up; their eyes are fixed forward and down, their pale faces drawn and blank as statues. Yet they move with purpose, every oar-pull precise and uniform.
Addie stops before a thin, grizzled man with wiry arms and grey in his moustache. Four jagged scars cut across his face and crooked nose, and one of his eyes is milky white.
Those scars look like a werewolf's work.
"Excuse me," Addie says. "Not to bother you, but…"
The man glances at her. His good eye flickers green in the lantern light.
Addie blinks, and it vanishes. When she looks again, his good eye is brown.
"I… did you -"
Boots approach in a measured march. The man rows steadfastly, assuming the same downcast features of the others.
"Miss, the crew is not to be disturbed."
Addie meets the captain's stiff manner with a smile - slow, measured, like Opheodra's.
"Where did all of you come from? Ettinsmoor?"
Captain Gamal clasps his hands behind his back. "It's no matter. We serve her Ladyship now."
Addie glances at the oarsmen, but no one speaks, or even glances up.
"But you came from Overland?"
The captain's lips thin, and he gestures ahead to the stern. "Perhaps you should retire to your quarters."
Addie hesitates. Are there werewolves in Underland, or is that man from an Ettinsmoor village?
She won't find out now, not under the captain's eye. Maybe later.
Whatever the reason, it must be magnanimous. Most likely, the man came to the Lady's employ after his village was attacked, and Opheodra clearly takes care of her people. This man is lucky to be under her protection.
With nothing better to do, Addie retreats to her room. She may as well go to bed early.
As she undresses, a glint of green flickers in the mirror. Addie sets aside her dress and looks again, but her eyes are the same hazel they've always been.
She must be more tired than she thought. Laying down, Addie gives in to the siren call of her bunk and sleeps.
She wakes groggily and rubs sleep-salt from her eyes, groaning as she stretches her sore legs. After a quick breakfast of bread and soft cheese, Addie trots upstairs, only to slow when the same darkness greets her.
She misses the sun.
A cool breeze stirs her hair. It's dank, stale, doesn't smell briny like the Eastern Ocean, nor fresh like the Great River.
Addie shivers and pulls up her cloak hood. The soft rabbit fur tickles her forehead as she wanders to the bow and peers into the unending sea. Hallgrim said it's a two-day journey, but without the sun, she's unsure how much time has passed. She's slept more on this ship than she usually does in half a week, and all her body seems to want is more sleep.
With a yawn, Addie turns away from the sea and sits to watch the ship's minimal activity. The captain is continuing his pacing up and down the ship's deck, though the oarsmen do nothing but row and stare blankly into nothing. As he makes for the bow, Captain Gamal suddenly stops, eyes fixed on her.
Addie lifts her chin and stares right back. She's in no one's way here, and Opheodra never said she had to stay in her room.
It's only when the captain approaches further that she realises he's looking past her.
"What is it?" Addie asks.
"We've nearly arrived," says Gamal. "I will inform her Ladyship."
Addie turns to see for herself, leaning over the railing alongside the serpent figurehead. At first, she sees nothing but the same flat water and blackness so thick it seems to press in on the ship.
But at last, at last, lights! Dim and flickering, but lights just the same - blue, like the ship's lanterns, more muted than the glowworms.
As the ship glides on, the lanterns reveal another ship, then another. No vessel is as large or ornate as the Emerald Krait - this must be Lady Opheodra's flagship. The passing oar-ships are plainer, about half the size with half the crew. The ships slide past, the swish-creak and gentle plop of oars rotating in their sockets and meeting the water. No one from the Krait calls a greeting as they pass, nor do the other crews call to them. Every oarsman is single-handedly focused on his task, no more and no less.
Soon after, a cloud of lights appears on the horizon, rising above the water like a mountain of distant blue fireflies - or candle-bugs, as Cesare would call them. He might come up with another name for the glowworms, and these lanterns.
Addie grips the ornate railing against a sudden pinch of nausea.
She wouldn't want Cesare to travel here. It's… too far below ground. Not meant for children.
Addie brushes off the thought. Cesare's safe and happy in the Narnian capital, and she's here, with the only friend who's truly understood her.
"Ah, Addie. I trust your quarters were comfortable?"
Addie greets Opheodra with relief - even two or three days was too long a separation. Lady Opheodra's emerged from her cabin, resplendent in her flowing green dress that ripples like water in the slight wind. The voyage has been easy on her, if her radiant smile is any indication. Hallgrim follows her, straightening to his full height after stooping on the lower deck.
He seems… smaller, somehow, here in Underland. The oppressive gloom dwarfs everything, even Hallgrim's towering figure.
"Yes," Addie says to Opheodra. "Thank you."
"Excellent. And now, pray, look upon my city."
Opheodra joins her at the bow. Something in Addie's chest eases at her nearness.
On the Sunless Sea, it was easy to wonder if this was all there was: an unending ocean of still waters below and the totality of the darkness above. But now, the journey is almost over, and she's not alone.
As they approach, the mountain of lights indeed reveals a city - or the beginnings of one. Half-built warehouses and columned structures cover the hill's slopes, most framed with scaffolding. Busy workers - all human, as best she can tell - stack bricks, mould clay, unload ships, ferry crates of supplies from the harbour to the few completed storage buildings. Not a single soul is idle, all completely focused on their work.
"What do you think?"
"It's a wonder," Addie answers. "I can't even imagine how you get enough supplies and food down here."
Opheodra loops their arms, her hand cool even through Addie's sleeve. Addie leans into the contact.
"There are many paths to Overland, and I have made fortunate alliances," says Opheodra.
Addie thinks over their horseback journey. Caves and grottoes pockmarked the cliffs under the Giant bridge.
"The Northern River?" Addie guesses.
"How observant you are! Yes, that is one route - more a summer and spring venture, when the shallower parts of the river flow freely."
"Oars up! Ready to make fast!" cries the captain as they near the docks.
As one, the crew pulls in their oars. When the ship reaches a quay, she's properly tied off and the gangway is extended. Yet, the second Addie, Opheodra, and Hallgrim disembark and two crew members leave their bags on the dock, the Krait casts off again, a rowboat tugging it back out to sea.
Addie watches it go. The harbour is nearly empty, all but three ships rowing out to sea. Even those three are busy with preparations, oarsmen taking their seats and awaiting a captain's orders.
"The Krait must fetch Varn and our horses," says Opheodra. "No other vessel is quite large enough."
Varn's still on the far shore, waiting with a torch that must've burnt out by now?
Addie stares out at the Sunless Sea. Surely Varn knew he'd be waiting this long, but to leave him behind…
She exhales, and the thought curls away like smoke.
"Come, Addie," says Opheodra, as Hallgrim follows closely. "There is an urgent matter for which I require your help."
After disembarking the Emerald Krait, Opheodra leads them through her quiet, murmuring city. Addie stays close to her side, hurrying to keep pace as they wind past clusters of workers - some scarred by werewolf claws or teeth - and up the mountain, where a palace twice the size of Opheodra's Ettinsmoor manor towers above.
Addie tries not to stare.
"Unfortunate souls," Opheodra says when Addie falters at the sight of a teen boy with a hideous bite mark mottling his neck. "Their villages were overrun; so many of these citizens had nowhere else to go."
Addie swallows, throat tight. She knows too well what that feels like - the suffocation of being adrift, torn from home, trying to eke out a life somewhere else.
Maybe these people will find a new belonging here, as she will.
On impulse, Addie looks over her shoulder, where Hallgrim follows silently.
"Are you from Ettinsmoor?" she asks.
Hallgrim's jaw tightens, but he answers, short and curt, a simple "I am" and nothing more.
Opheodra pats her hand. "You mustn't press him," she murmurs. "It is not a happy tale, and it is his alone to bear."
Shame heats Addie's face, and she falls quiet.
She wouldn't want her life's tale spread around, either.
Addie follows Opheodra up the slope and around the palace. As they walk, workers stop to stare at Lady Opheodra, and when she beckons, they wordlessly lay down their tools and follow. Soon, hundreds flock to their procession, the measured thunder of their footsteps juxtaposed by their silence. When Addie looks at them, none of their pale, gaunt faces meet her gaze.
Their procession journeys beyond the city to an empty expanse of bare clay and stone behind the palace. Hallgrim strikes a torch, its light a harsh orange after days of seeing by the dim blue lanterns. His torch is soon joined by dozens, then hundreds of others as the workers light their own.
Still, no one speaks.
When the slope flattens and turns downward again, Opheodra stops.
"Here, I think," she murmurs to herself. "Yes, here it will be." Straightening, Opheodra turns to Hallgrim. "Draw a wide circle 'round us both, Hallgrim. Carve it deep."
Addie frowns as Hallgrim draws his broadsword and digs it into the ground, steel digging past dust and clay, scraping over stone and drawing sparks.
The workers gather around them, forming a half-circle dozens of bodies deep between their trio and the palace.
"A circle?" Addie picks at her nails, the workers' silence oppressive as the almost-whisper of a memory prods at the base of her skull. Something, something about… circles and blood and ice…
"Be still, Addie, sweet," says Opheodra. "You do trust me, don't you?"
Trust her? Certainly! Who has done more for her than Lady Opheodra?
Affirmation flies from Addie's lips.
"Of course," Addie says. "Implicitly."
Opheodra's mouth curls into a smile, her green eyes unblinking.
"And I, you. Take this and listen carefully. You must do everything I tell you." Opheodra reaches into her kirtle pockets and produces a dagger, slim and polished, with a hilt like a coiled serpent. "Do not falter now, for my realm is in danger, and you must help me secure it."
The scarred oarsmen and city workers flood Addie's mind. All around her, they stand, eyes locked on her. Opheodra means her to be their salvation? But how?
What can she do that Opheodra cannot?
"From the werewolves?" Addie guesses. "But what can I do about that?"
Opheodra presses the dagger into Addie's hand, cool fingers guiding hers around the hilt.
"Werewolves, yes, they are a danger," says Opheodra. "And many others. The world above is not a kindly land, as you well know. Without you, all is lost."
Overland has werewolves and thoughtless kings who make cruelties of kindness.
Addie nods, her head heavy. "I suppose it's not. I'll… whatever you need, I'll help."
"Of course you will, my dear. Quiet, now, I must concentrate."
Opheodra follows Hallgrim around the circle and calls the men of Underland to lift up their voices and repeat after her, words dripping from her lips like molten gold, hot and rich and echoing. The air fills with the rumble of their voices, a sound like thunder racing over open plains. Though Addie can't understand their words, something in her clenches and shies away.
Something… something is…
No, everything is alright. She can't falter now, can't fail Opheodra in this hour of need.
As the workers repeat her chant, Lady Opheodra stops in the centre of the circle, facing the darkness ahead with her arms thrown wide. Her sweet voice murmurs in a strange, hissing language that flows like water, a constant string of sounds rather than words.
The sound hooks in Addie's stomach, pinches like hunger and twists like fear, yet her heart beats the same and her breath quickens only if she consciously wills it. Despite the growing roar of so many voices, Opheodra's whispers are as clear as if she's speaking at Addie's shoulder.
"Opheodra?" Addie murmurs. Her own voice has never sounded so small. "This is… necessary, isn't it?"
She doesn't even know what this is.
Opheodra's eyes snap to hers, scolding. Addie falls silent, gripping the dagger in her hand like a lifeline. Twin points prick at her - the hilt-snake's fangs, threatening to puncture the soft skin of her thumb.
The chant continues, never pausing for even a breath, and Opheodra's pupils narrow and elongate as she speaks, a faint pattern appearing on her skin.
Addie bites her cheek and forces herself to be still, be obliging, be helpful, because doesn't she owe Opheodra this? Opheodra, who freed her from the treachery of her own heart and brought her to Underland, where the troubles of Narnia and its king are mere trifles easily forgotten?
Addie tastes copper in her mouth and grimaces. She's seen a circle before, felt a knife at her throat, almost drowned in her own blood…
That was a lifetime ago, and this is Opheodra, the only person she can trust. Opheodra wouldn't harm her. Opheodra is just protecting her realm.
Opheodra is…
Opheodra is kneeling, palm splayed over the ground, head bowed, and skirts whipping like a thick, scaly rope.
The earth rumbles, trembling under her feet.
Addie falters back. Hallgrim's solidity stops her.
"Steady," he mutters, a heavy hand grasping her shoulder. "Stay inside the circle."
A quick glance shows Addie her heels are at the edge.
Opheodra's chant crescendos.
The ground cracks, and a fiery glow races around the circle.
Hallgrim pushes her forward, and Addie stumbles into the centre, heart pounding in her throat. Beneath Opheodra's hand, the crack lengthens, racing out to either side, like a torn seam, a jagged cut.
The workers break their formation and approach the crack, lining up six bodies thick before the opening. As one, the first line of men bends down, picks up shards of stone, and cuts their palms. They tilt their hands, and drops of red fall to water the earth.
Addie's breath shallows. She's seen this before, with a Stone Table at her back and treachery and -
This, here, is different, must be different because Opheodra is doing it.
The first line retreats and passes their stones to the second line. They repeat the motion, their chant never faltering as their blood trickles from their palms. Then the third line, fourth, fifth…
Addie grips the snake-hilt dagger and remembers Hallgrim at her back.
She can't run. Moreover, she shouldn't.
Opheodra's counting on her.
When the last man has bled into the crack and reformed the semi-circle, Opheodra turns to her.
Addie shivers and holds herself firm, summoning courage as she looks into Opheodra's eyes.
Her pupils are narrow and vertical, as black as the Sunless Sea.
Quick as a viper, Opheodra's hands lash out and take hers, cold fingers squeezing her wrists, and she slashes the blade across her palm.
Addie yelps, the cut burning as Opheodra sheaths the dagger and stretches her hand flat, straining the torn flesh.
Addie's blood drips down and stains the seam in the stones.
Opheodra throws her head back and screams, bellows, and all at once her words are lost to the thunderous crack of the earth splitting in two.
Addie sways as the sound sears her ears and rock undulates under her feet.
Opheodra holds her fast, nails digging into her skin, still forcing her palm open. From below, a red glow drowns out the lantern light and Addie's nose itches with a sneeze.
She smells sulphur.
It's her only warning.
Heat blasts up, and Addie screams. Her skin sears, hair singed, and she's burning, burning, burning!
Pain jolts through her like lightning, and all at once her head clears.
This is wrong.
Oh God, this is wrong.
Opheodra's not protecting her realm, she's breaking it! And these people, these people -
"Stop!" Addie digs in her heels and tries to yank away, ignoring the sting of Opheodra's nails. "Stop, what are you doing!"
The crimson glow of the fire below lights Opheodra's face, and there is no kindness here, nothing but hunger and power and magic, dark and terrible magic.
What has she done?
The Wild Lands - also known as Witch Country among the more superstitious.
Opheodra's gaze flicks at something behind her. Addie wrenches free, fist closed over her cut palm, cradling her hand to her chest, and maybe she can run, maybe there's a way to stop -
Pain cracks across her skull.
Addie crumples, and the darkness takes her.
Caspian
"Concerning as continued piracy may be, Terebinthia is not a Narnian possession. Any further actions on our part may provoke retaliation."
Glenstorm shifts, the rug muting his hooves as he regards the Lord of Glasswater's representative.
"Perhaps, but Terebinthia is beset by plague and we are well-poised to meet any threat," says the centaur. "These pirates haunt Narnian territory. If Terebinthia is the source, a confrontation may be inevitable."
Surveying his circle of advisors, Caspian leans on his chair arm and strokes his recently trimmed beard. He's in no hurry to start another war, but Glenstorm is right that many of the pirates are Terebinthian.
It's possible the King of Terebinthia has sanctioned the pirates himself in a desperate bid to boost the island's struggling trade prospects. With the plague ravaging its population and crops and few countries willing to risk catching the disease themselves by trading with them, Terebinthia's situation worsens by the week.
What is piracy in the face of starvation?
"I'll not provoke one until all diplomacy fails," Caspian says. "But if the king continues to refuse our aid and we have proof he's supporting or sanctioning piracy, then…"
A low rumble cuts him off, rolling in from a distance.
Caspian glances outside, expecting to see thunderclouds, but the sky is a clear, brilliant blue.
The rumble grows, and the floor trembles under his feet.
Chair catching on the rug, Caspian stands, hand at his hip though he wears no weapons to council.
Out in the hallway, someone screams.
Caspian sprints for the door, half his council already following, and his palm just closes around the handle when the ground jerks and the windows shatter.
"Lion's Mane!"
"Kegs and kettlehorns!"
"Aslan help us!"
Caspian wrenches open the door and rushes out into the sea of screaming, running servants, lurching as the floor shakes beneath his boots. The very stones of the castle shake, and a crack spiders up the far wall. Tapestries and framed paintings fall, vases shatter as servants drop them in their haste, and the hallway torches splutter.
Lion, what is this? Aslan's judgement, come to crumble the castle made by conquerors' hands?
A tapestry falls onto a torch sconce. A fire flares, and servants rush to smother it.
"Your Majesty!" Glenstorm shouts.
Caspian glances up and dives to avoid a shower of falling bricks. They crash to the floor, sending fragments scattering across the hall and a cloud of dust billowing into the air.
With a final roar, the shaking subsides.
Outside, inside, everywhere, the screaming is morphing into crying.
A/N: Well then, perhaps some slight oopsies were made 😬 But the silver lining is soon our two favorite idiots will be back in the same location 👀 I'll leave it to y'all to guess where.
Chapter 80 is coming in... y'know, let's just say 2 weeks, and we can all be pleasantly surprised if I get it out sooner.
Chapter 80 Preview:
Addie,
You must write to me that you are well. Here in Narnia, the earth shook as if struck by a dozen catapults at once. Some of the weaker buildings in the northeast collapsed entirely, and there is hardly a corner of the kingdom that did not at least feel the quake. As you must know, Ettinsmoor, too, suffered some damage.
Please confirm that you are uninjured and safe.
If I do not hear from you within three days, I am sending an escort to fetch you, whether your project is complete or not.
Urgently,
Caspian X