IMPORTANT Authoress's note: As I have unthinkably updated twice in a single day, please be sure to read the previous chapter, Venom, before you read this chapter. Otherwise you will be most thoroughly lost. If the last thing you remember was escaping Dark Island, go back one chapter, please! If you're in the right place, read on, and enjoy the second part of today's double feature. Merry Christmas to all.
Disclaimer: the usual disclaimers apply. no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter the Fifty-second: Avalon
31 Frostmoon 2076
A few hours later, in the full light of morning, a longboat pulled towards the shore with Galen, the first officer, and a detail of marines in tow. Galen gazed back at the ship, its masts silhouetted cleanly against the blue sky, and found his heart torn. He had imagined this day differently, with he and his lady fulfilling this last stage of the quest together. Instead, she lay terribly ill, and he ached to be at her side, even as he stood on the cusp of accomplishing his long mission. The pall of her illness cast a long shadow. And what was yet to come?
His reverie broke as the ship reached the shore. The only suitable place for landing was a wide, shallow bay, and with a little careful timing between breakers, the sailors managed to land the longboat on the soft sand without wetting the passengers too badly. Galen stepped out lightly and took stock of the landscape. The beach rose softly towards two gently sloping hills, and a pleasant looking valley opened between them.
"Sir Galen," Barstowe addressed once the boat was secure on the sand. "Lead on."
The Narnian nodded, then turned and began walking towards the valley. The heathery brush gave off a pleasant, purplish smell, like violets after a spring rain. They had not gone far when the valley opened into a sort of ruin, and Galen found himself trail to a stop. He observed the strange scene before him with quiet, inquisitive reverence. Tall trees spread golden leaves over a smoothly paved courtyard, and streams of light fell softly among the delicately hewn stone pillars that lined it. A long, carved stone table stretched the length of the courtyard, covered with a crimson cloth that reached almost to the ground. Shining silver and gold dishes set the table, with jewel-like salt cellars interspersed among empty platters and serving bowls. Carved stone chairs with silken cushions stood along the table's length. The place seemed both ancient and new at the same time. Galen entered the courtyard and began to walk the length of the table, pondering its meaning.
"What is this place, my lord?" The first officer breathed. The marines followed behind them, their faces mixed between wonder and apprehension.
"I am not entirely sure, commander," the Narnian knight answered thoughtfully. "But I believe I begin to understand."
He came to the head of the table and noticed a great rock standing to the side. With a flash of realization, he recognized it as the same stone that had appeared in the courtyard of Anvard all those months ago. The one from which he drew the sword he had carried ever since. He approached it and rested his hand on it. At that moment, he heard a rustle behind him and the marines' corporal quietly called his men's attention.
"My lord," Barstowe warned.
Galen turned around to see a slender girl standing on the path behind him. She seemed only thirteen or fourteen years old, but she carried herself with the quiet dignity of a great lady. Her blue, sleeveless dress trailed behind her, and her pale gold hair hung freely down her back. She looked at the group with curious blue eyes, lingering on them each in turn. She looked last at Galen, and he bowed in greeting.
"My lady," he spoke gravely.
"I offer welcome to the knight of Aslan and his company," she answered, her clear voice soft, but resonant. Galen's eyes narrowed momentarily in surprise. His Archen green tabard did not give any indication of his commission, and its worn and mended condition did not necessarily mark him as the leader of the group.
"We thank you, Lady, for your welcome," the Narnian answered at last, and she scrutinized his face anew, as though weighing his character.
"Will you grant me a favor, sir knight?" She spoke again.
"If it is in my power to grant, my lady," he answered shrewdly.
"May I see the sword you carry?"
"You may," the young knight assented, then carefully drew the sword from its sheath and held it with the blade pointed downwards, so she could see the flat.
"Courage in faith, mercy in strength," the girl read the words inscribed there knowingly.
"And do you know the words on the other side?" Galen challenged quietly, and she looked up at him evenly.
"Persevere in duty, for Aslan's glory," she completed, and he inclined his head. It was her turn to offer a challenge. "Return the sword to the stone."
"When my mission is complete, my lady, I shall do as you ask," Galen answered quietly, returning it instead to its sheath. "And if this is, indeed, the place I am commissioned to find, then you will call it by the name that Aslan used for it when He commissioned me."
The Jewel's first officer and the marines looked at the Narnian with new respect. Despite all they had seen and endured, the reality that Aslan Himself commissioned their voyage had not come home until that moment. The girl remained unruffled at Galen's challenge, and she stood straight and solemnly as she answered him.
"Then I welcome you again, knight of Aslan, to the Table of Aslan at the beginning of the end of the world."
Galen bowed in acknowledgment. When he straightened, he observed the girl keenly, realizing that a subtle light radiated from her. "You're one of the stars that fell this morning."
The Archenlanders nearby looked at each other in confusion, but the girl smiled broadly. "And you are undoubtedly the student of centaurs."
"Indeed," he laughed. "And the other star?"
"My father, Ramandu."
Recognition dawned on the Narnian's face. "An ancient and respected star," he inclined his head. "I can think of none better to whom to entrust my charge."
The girl bowed.
"My lady," Galen drew himself up. "If it is convenient for you and your father, I will return this evening and complete the legacy and commission of my order."
"It is convenient," Ramandu's daughter answered. "Go in peace."
The afternoon light streamed in the cabin's diamond-paned windows, reflecting off Galen's armor and the silver and blue of his grandfather's tabard.
"You look well, my love," Lyra smiled at him from her sickbed. Dressed in his polished armor and velvet ceremonial cloak, the Narnian knight indeed looked splendid. But sadness lingered in his eyes as he looked at his lady.
"Lyra," he pleaded, "you can't. It will make you weaker."
"Galen," she chided gently, "I am losing this battle, and you can see it as well as I can."
"No, Lyra," he cut her off sharply, his voice breaking as he looked away. "I cannot—I will not—accept that."
"Please, my love," her voice was soft and sad as she took his hand in her own, "let me see the fruition of all we have fought to accomplish."
The young knight avoided his lady's gaze for a while, and when he looked up at her, at last, his eyes were full of tears. She looked back at him, her eyes bright with fever and determination, and he relented, looking down and nodding. The tears fell when he closed his eyes, and he shuddered as he struggled not to weep. Squeezing her hand, he stood abruptly and left the cabin.
"Bryan," he addressed the medic waiting outside the door, "she has need of you."
Picking up his kit, the medic hastened inside, and, after collecting himself, Galen turned determined steps to the ship's quarterdeck.
"Captain Torin," he hailed as he reached the deck, "The princess will be accompanying us to shore."
"Is that wise, Sir Galen?" The Jewel's commander's eyes narrowed.
"I would not deem it so," the young knight answered sternly, "but she will not be dissuaded."
"Very well," he responded, then turned to his first officer. "Commander, inform Captain Anderson that the princess will require an escort. I will join the shore party, as will Lieutenant Payne."
Barstowe acknowledged, then set about fulfilling his superior's orders. It took about twenty minutes for the crew to prepare the boats. When word passed that they were ready, Galen left his place at the rail, where he stood straight and staring, and turned heavy steps back towards the princess's cabin. The medic waited outside the door.
"At her highness's request, I provided a tonic that will strengthen her for a time. It would be best if she returned before its effects wear off."
"I understand," he answered.
The ensign inclined his head and withdrew. Galen raised a hesitant hand to knock softly on Lyra's cabin door. After a moment, the door opened. The young knight looked at his lady, who smiled gently at him, and felt a poignant pang. She wore the blue dress that caught her eyes so well, and having washed her face, brushed her golden hair out of its tangled braid, and benefited from the tonic, she looked for a moment almost well again.
"My lady," he smiled at her, trying to conceal his concern.
"My lord," she inclined her head in return. She held her own best cloak on her arm, and Galen promptly helped settle it on her shoulders. She swayed a little, and her knight quickly wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.
"Aslan's mane," he thought silently, his jaw setting grimly as they walked towards the deck. Lyra felt horribly thin and fragile under his firm grasp.
As they walked out onto the deck, Captain Anderson called the marine escort to attention. Galen inclined his head to the marine captain as they passed. In a few minutes, he settled his lady in the stern of one of the longboats, tucking her cloak and his own tightly around her as she rested against him. It did not take long before the marine escort and the Jewel's captain joined them in the boats. The sailors pushed off and began to row with strong strokes towards the shore. Although problematic breakers usually washed the shores of the shallow beach, the water this evening was providentially calm. The sailors and marines leaped from the boats when they touched shore, and then they drew the boats up on the sand. Galen gathered his lady up in his arms and stepped cautiously from the boat, taking care that she did not get wet. He carried her carefully over the sand, regretting how easy a burden she had become to carry. When they reached the heathery valley, he set her down, and, leaning on his arm, she was able to walk the short distance to Aslan's Table.
"This is beautiful," Lyra breathed, smiling with wonder, as she took slow, frail steps. "It is a fair sanctuary Aslan has prepared."
"Indeed," Galen murmured, returning her smile.
Presently, he guided her to a stop at the foot of Aslan's Table. The golden light of sunset washed through the trees, illuminating the rich feast laid out upon the table. An extremely ancient man in a silvery robe sat at the head of the table, his daughter standing at his side. Galen stood straight-backed and solemn, continuing to support his lady, as he looked at the aged star from across the long table.
"My lord Ramandu," the Narnian knight spoke after a moment. "I am Sir Galen of Narnia, knight of the Order of the Lion's Redemption. By your leave, may I seat my lady, the Princess Lyra of Archenland, at Aslan's Table?"
Ramandu slowly inclined his head, and Galen helped Lyra to sit in the stone chair at the foot of the table. She sank into it with relief.
"Thank you," he spoke, standing straight and proudly beside his lady's chair. "These are our companions, Captain Torin of the ship Jewel of Archenland, and Captain Anderson of the Royal Archen Marines, who leads the princess's escort. They and their fellows have sacrificed much to bring us safely to this place."
He paused, and the officers bowed respectfully. Ramandu inclined his head again, and the marines lined up at crisp attention in front of the pillars nearest their sovereign.
"My father and I welcome you and all your company to this sanctuary, Sir Galen," Ramandu's daughter spoke. "State your solemn errand."
"I come to fulfill the duty of my Order to protect the Stone Knife, which drew the blood of Aslan on the eve of the Battle of Beruna, when Our Lord gave his life willingly on the Stone Table that King Edmund might live."
"You and your forbears have safeguarded it with honor," Ramandu's daughter spoke, her voice strangely grave for her youth. "Here, as Aslan has Himself directed, the Stone Knife will be kept in honor while world lasts. Come forward."
Galen drew the carved wooden box from the bag at his belt and held it carefully. With ponderous steps, he traveled the length of the long table to stand at Ramandu's other side. Deliberately, the Narnian knight placed the box on the table and opened the cover. He paused a moment, looking upon the White Witch's cruel and ancient weapon, the relic he had guarded by his oath and his life. Taking a deep breath, he took the Stone Knife carefully in his hands and lifted it up.
"In Aslan's name, I complete the mission of my order and entrust to you, my lord Ramandu, the guardianship of this ancient and solemn treasure."
Galen turned and carefully placed the knife in Ramandu's wrinkled hands. The aged star did not speak, but inclined his head once more before carefully handing the Stone Knife to his daughter. She, in her turn, placed it deliberately upon Aslan's Table. When she returned to her place by her father, she looked up at the Narnian knight with a steady gaze.
"And now, my lord?"
Galen held her gaze a moment, and then nodded. Stepping away from the Table, he drew his sword and approached the great stone.
"And now," he answered, "I return what was given."
Taking a deep breath, he placed the tip of the sword at the top of the stone. For a moment the stone resisted, and then the sword slid into the rock as though through butter and stuck fast. The Narnian knight removed the scabbard from his belt and placed it before the great stone, then stepped back. Momentarily, the sword, stone, and scabbard vanished, to the astonishment of the Jewel's captain and the marines, who had not been present when the sword and stone appeared in the Anvard courtyard. From across the table, Galen met Lyra's gaze, and she smiled at him with sparkling eyes. Relief and joy flooded through him. He had completed his task and fulfilled his promise.
Ramandu's daughter invited Galen and his company to remain and dine with them. But at the shake of Lieutenant Payne's head, he declined.
"Thank you for hospitality, my lady," the Narnian knight answered, "but the princess is unwell and must return to our ship."
"Then go with Aslan's blessing, my lord," Ramandu's daughter returned graciously.
Galen turned to his lady and offered a hand to help her up. She took it and stood, but a few steps from the Table, her strength ebbed away and her knees buckled beneath her. Galen held her firmly, and she weakly rested against him, her eyelids fluttering with exhaustion. The young knight sank to the pavement, supporting her carefully.
"You've overdone it, my lady, as I told you," he chided softly, stroking her cheek gently as the medic rushed forward.
"The quest is complete," she murmured, looking up at him joyfully through feverish eyes. "I would not have missed it for all the world."
Galen looked down in sorrow and could not answer. The princess smiled at him and reached a trembling hand to his cheek, where tears had found their way to fall.
"I'm so proud of you, my love," she whispered, and then her arm fell back from the strain of the exertion. Payne took her wrist gently and checked her pulse. After a moment, he released it.
"My lord," the young officer spoke, his voice somber.
Galen glanced at him, and the grim look in the medic's eyes took the Narnian aback.
"We should return her to the ship," the young knight answered hastily, looking back at his lady.
"My lord." Something in the medic's insistent tone stopped him.
"Please," Galen pleaded, barely audibly, not daring to take his eyes from Lyra's pale face. He could not bear the grave certainty written on the medic's face.
"The princess will die on the way if you try."
The Narnian flinched as though stung, and his tears flowed freely now. She labored even to breathe, and the pitiful sound tore at his heart.
"Lyra," he called her softly, and her eyes struggled to focus on him. "I love you," he whispered. She made no response but smiled at him serenely. "Please," he begged, whispering, "please stay with me."
Meanwhile, Ramandu approached, leaning heavily on his daughter's arm. Galen did not notice the aged star kneel beside them on the stone pavement. Ramandu observed the Archen princess with pity in his ancient eyes. Then, he stretched out a hand and laid it lightly on the princess's head. Startled, Galen looked up in alarm, which turned to panic as he felt her fall limp in his arms.
"No, Lyra!" the distressed young knight cried, feeling frantically for a heartbeat. The marines around them cast down their eyes. Captain Torin's face was furrowed with anguished sorrow, while Captain Anderson clenched a fist as he looked away. In the silence, Ramandu stood and returned to his daughter's supportive arm. The slender young lady searched her father's face inquiringly, and he inclined his head slowly. At this apparent answer, she turned to the Narnian before her.
"The princess lives yet, sir knight," Ramandu's daughter's clear voice rang through the courtyard, and Galen looked up at her, his eyes wild with hope. "Hold your vambrace before her lips."
The Narnian obeyed, his heart in his throat, and indeed he could see the faintest mist appear on its polished surface to testify that she still breathed. Shaking with relief, he bent over her and kissed her forehead, cradling her pale cheek in his hand.
"My father placed her in a deep, dreamless sleep," Ramandu's daughter explained. "It may preserve her life a while longer."
"Can your father heal her?" Galen looked up hopefully. But the lady shook her head sadly.
"He, too, is weak. This enchantment is beyond his strength, and it is entirely possible she may never wake." The young star paused. "I pray that Aslan will heal your lady, my lord. You and your company are welcome to stay as long as necessary."
"Thank you for your kindness, Lady," the Narnian knight inclined his head in return.
Ramandu's daughter turned and slowly helped her father to the far end of the courtyard, where they disappeared into a door in the hill. The door shut behind them, and all fell silent. After a moment, Galen collected himself.
"Captain Anderson," the knight addressed the faithful commander of the princess's guard. "Take my cloak, if you would be so kind, and drape it over yon chair."
The marine promptly obeyed, unfastening the rich velvet from the Narnian's shoulders and laying it carefully upon the great stone chair in front of them. With great care, Galen gathered his lady up in his arms and stood. Then, he gently placed her in the chair, resting her head carefully against the tall stone back. After tucking his cloak around her shoulders, Galen straightened and addressed Anderson.
"Keep a good watch, captain."
"Where are you going, my lord?"
The Narnian's eyes glinted with determination.
"To beg Aslan for her life."
Authoress's note: I can't promise an update in a week this time, but I hope it won't be too long. Thank you for reading! Up next: Sacrifice.