(3,668 words)
(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).
(revised)
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We come here just to play in his garden.
Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.
~~~ 1 ~~~
Overture
God said, "Let us make mankind in our image and likeness and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, the cattle, over all the wild animals and every creature that crawls on the earth." Genesis 2. 26-27.
"Rise up King and Queen of Narnia. Father and mother of many kings that shall be in Narnia and in the Isles and in Archenland. Be just and merciful and brave. The blessing is upon you." From the coronation of King Frank the 1st, and Queen Helen. 2nd day, Narnian year 1
~~~ II ~~~
The Cusp of Winter
Within sight of slumbering Cair Paravel, out on the ice choked Bight of Calormen a breeze stirs to life. This flesh numbing apparition sets off westward up Glasswater Creek towards the Archen river. Along the way the temperature of this gale climbs steadily to almost the level of freezing. Past the Shuddering wood, unseen forces steer this wind in a more northerly direction. Over the river Telmar, beyond the Great River and Western woods at a place in Lantern Waste where a westward trail makes a turn to the north the dying zephyr stirs a few loose strands of hair on the head of a child. A female child dressed in clothing ill suited to the winter weather. A very special child this one is, a kind not seen in the land for near a hundred years. A girl child approaching that age when most daughters of the land are putting up their dolls in preparation for their forthcoming passage into adulthood.
Pushing her way pass the snow laden branches of some yew trees, the child comes upon a most unusual sight. There, on the far side of the path stands an antique streetlight, it's cheerful luminescence helping to dispel the wintry gloom. The apparition's architecture brings to mind derelict examples she had seen dotting older parts of London. The vista before her seems somehow oddly appropriate, like an illustration gleaned from a book of fairy tales. 'I must fetch the others here to play' She thinks. Pondering what to do next the child is shaken by the realization she is not alone!
~~~ III ~~~
Further to the north but still insanely close for a Daughter of Eve, two tormented hills flank an icy plain. Issuing forth from this expanse under the ice is a brook who's name by the grace of the creator has been lost in the mist of time. The waters of this tributary meander their way southward to eventually weep their shame into the Great River. Back in the north, that desolate reach of ice and snow is dominated by a fortress who's towers bear a striking resemblance to needle ice. Those tiny strands of frost you sometimes find blooming along country lanes on chilly mornings.
Standing taller then a floor clock, the melancholy enchantress who rules the land from this Keep is no daughter of eve. This usurper settles onto her frost covered throne, upholstered for her comfort with the skin of some unfortunate narnian. She slouches forward and rests elbows on the chare's ice encrusted arms. Lacing her fingers together she cradles her chin on waiting thumbs, touching steepled finger tips to her nose in contemplation. She had earlier this day presented that tedious fool Tumnus his weekly stipend of food before dismissing the lout. She trust the delicious irony of wrapping his gratuity as Christmas gifts wouldn't be lost on the sniveling lackey. All at once a shiver running between her shoulder blades unsettles the witch. 'Something is not right' She thinks. 'I shall go out myself and check the Waste and the Wood come the morn.'
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pages 1-3
The Narnians
"The Lion, the Witch, the wardrobe and Beyond"
~~~ Chapter1 ~~~
Death on the Mountain
Once upon a time long ago or maybe in days yet to come there was a land called Narnia. A magical kingdom locked in the throes of a frozen curse. Every tale must have a beginning, so let this one start here -
A band of smugglers battle their way up a boulder strewn ravine with another consignment of aid for the north. Minuscule ice crystals driven by the wind sting like tiny daggers and tug at the threadbare cloth wrappings they use to ward off frostbite. Archenland's green fertile valleys having been left behind, ahead to the north buried deep in the mountains the Inn at Midway village beckons. The promise of a hot meal and the opportunity to sleep out of the weather for a change spurs them on.
The sight of miniscule snowflakes hanging in the air as the wind retreated so captivated young Fain the sled's abrupt halt caught him completely off guard. Straightening, he looked over the cargo's canvas cover first to his father Tem, then beyond to two snow blurred silhouettes blockading the pass ahead.
Fain smiled as he recognized his friend Kinoe the oath breaker, one of the two minotaur who called Midway village home, the other one being his beloved mate Helria. The figure standing next to the minotaur, comically small by comparison had to be a red dwarf. A descendant of those refugees who built Midway village back in the beginning of what turned out to be the endless winter. Their survival in that place having been assured with the discovery of that dirty, vile smelling and life sustaining black rock, coal.
Tem with a wave of his hand beckoned his people follow. Turning slightly Fain planted his right hoof firmly in the snow and shoved against the load with his shoulder. The fauns, one on either side of him took up the cause bumping the hauler forward. The bear and badger up front leaned into the doubletree of the sleigh as they crept sluggishly up the hill.
Left hand resting on the cutlass sheathed at his side, cloak bellowing in the breeze as he strode ahead, Tem's progress through the fetlock deep snow was occasionally hindered by soft spots in the otherwise hard packed crust. Reaching the committee of two Tem turned to watch over his crew until they came safely to a stop a short way down the ravine. His attention turned back to his hosts, the smuggler captain transferred the longbow in his right hand to his left before gripping the proffered bracer bound wrist of his minotaur ally.
"By the horns of your ancestors." Tem tossed out the minotaur challenge in jest while at the same time vigorously pumping Kinoe's wrist. "Is it just me or has late winter hung on too long into the early spring this year?"
Kinoe in his basso buffo voice countered the insult with, "And your father's beard too... It's true, late winter still rests heavy on the spring air, you can feel the Witch's hand in it."
Releasing Kinoe's wrist Tem turned slightly giving the dwarf a slap on the shoulder of his leather tunic, in return the dwarf faked a jab at Tem's midsection causing the satyr to flinch.
"Aye, it be her au right. Wonder what's put a bug up'... The dwarf paused, jamming the stem of his unlit pipe between his teeth... 'up her butt this time. Somethings up, ats' a' sure."
The smuggler captain gathered up the edge of his frayed travel cloak in his free hand and drew it across his chest. Making a histrionic flourish with his weapon laden left hand, Tem bowed in a show of mock supplication.
"Pray tell master Grunram, what brings the high elder of Midway village away from his warm lodgings to meet with a bunch of snow blind outlaws," Tem asked trying to keep the mood buoyant.
"We'd been expecting ye,' The dwarf, with a quizzical look on his face said, 'So I sent Midway's wolves out to scout yea up."
Grunram's disposition grew a shade darker. Lowering his voice he looked about furtively before continuing. "They found ye right anuf' but they also cut trail on the false queen's lackeys."
Tem pressed the dwarf for more information. "Have they found the village, do you know?"
"Scoutsar' still out coursing but the weather's pretty much wiped away any sign," Grunram volunteered.
"A moment if you will," the satyr enjoined.
Tem bending his arm up at his side pointed the index finger of his right hand towards the cloudy sky.
...
The sledge drawing to a stop the fauns, Mosus and Asuls leapt into the air nearly at the same moment. Landing on the rear edge of the sled's runners forced them to dig into the snow checking the backward slide of the conveyance. The successful completion of this task seemed to greatly please the fauns. Fain enjoying their antics thought again how much the two had come to feel like brothers to him.
The starets holding council a short way off, the sled's crew settled in for a well deserved respite. The fauns were going on about what a wonderful chapter this was going to make in their book. Fain, meanwhile, scanned the pass behind them in hopes of catching sight of their main scout Merbos the fox. Fain's chest swelled with pride, for Merbos was a legend in these parts and people knew he chose to work with only the best.
Tucked up in a ball, Tobruk the addle headed bear rest against the front of the sleigh. Seeing him, one would think you were gazing upon the biggest hedgehog in all Narnia. Azron the kindhearted badger, Tobruk's friend and mentor sat in the snow on the other side of the sledge's tongue. Knees tucked up almost to his chest, the badger rest his cheeks on balled up paws, his side of the doubletree nestled comfortably in his lap.
Fain hopping onto the sled's dirty white sailcloth tarp sprawled out on his stomach. Resting his chin on folded arms, Fain marveled at the easy way his father commanded the trust and respect of his peers. The old feelings of doubt welling up inside him, he again wondered if he would ever achieve his father's level of self-confidence or plough the depth and breath of Tem's convictions.
He was of late having difficulty reconciling his own newly cultivated skepticism with his father's oft repeated liturgy about some magical lion, 'who would rescue them all and usher in a New golden age for Narnia.' A belief he found difficult to balance against the sight of sunken eyes and empty bellies on the mothers and babes they encountered everywhere they went.
Tem just then made a gesture with his hand that caused his son immediate concern. This was a signal he and father had worked out as a way of silently telling Fain he was needed as a scout on their flank. Father would not have used the signal unless something was amiss.
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Fain rolled onto his back and vaulted off the sleigh to the snowy ground. Shedding his bow case and falcata he undid his travel cloak stuffing the garment in a gap between the tarp and one of the lashing ropes. A spare quiver of arrows he normally wore upfront on his sash belt he repositioned to hang over his right hip. Retrieving his weapons he used their straps to tightly wrapped them into a neat bundle.
There was no need of special trail craft here. Fain had been this way many times before so he knew well the lay of the land. Four meters up the western side of the ravine ran a shelf of rock that paralleled the trail all the way up to Midway valley. It would make an excellent vantage point from which to scout until it turned west still clinging to the cliff face that encircled much of the valley.
His cloak left behind, Fain gathered up his weapons bundle saying to no one in particular. "Think I'll have a look around."
Asuls and Mosus reclining on their respective sled runners gave the impression of a pair of bookends. their backs resting against the canvas cover, hands clasped behind their heads, each with a right leg crossed over a left knee, their eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Why de yea not take yea rest while yea can friend satyr," Mosus instigated with his best dwarf idiom.
Asuls taking a stab at imitating the nonchalant manner of Azron the badger chimed in. "I'd say old fuzzy face here is trying to make us look like a couple of slugabeds in front of the captain."
Fain grunting noncommittally strode off to find a proper spot where he might make a try for the ledge. A place that satisfied his needs having been chosen, he calculated he'd need two or three strides to buildup enough speed to make the leap.
A flash of motion to his left caught Fain's attention. A reddish gray blur low to the ground weaved around and behind the stones littering the base of the west wall. The sight of Merbos trotting past on short fox legs bought a smile to the satyr's face.
"All is well Master Merbos," He asked.
The fox without breaking stride barked between labored breaths. "All is well, - young satyr – Fain," before the distance between them made conversation impossible.
Bundled up weapons in hand Fain returned to his starting point. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to help clear his thoughts. Two long strides and he was airborne, aiming not for the stone shelf itself but it's fringe instead. Painful experience had taught him that leaping directly onto icy ledges more often as not led to a bloody nose and bruised stifles.
The trajectory of his arc peeked just short of the granite mantle leaving him suspended in midair. At this point he flicked his burden onto the rock overhang and grabbed the seemingly proffered ledge of stone with both hands. Drawing himself against the cliff face, his hooves found easy purchase. Kicking a left leg up onto the lip of the out cropping Fain pulled himself the rest of the way up.
Rolling up on a knee he retrieved the weapons bundle and set about braking it down. Passing his head and left arm through the strap attached to the sword's scabbard he let it drape over his right shoulder. Fain with practiced hands reached behind and twisted his sash belt through a split ring attached to the scabbard's chape.
A most unbecoming way to wear the traditional satyr's weapon but Father had insisted he'd carry it that way, explaining, "I know it feels awkward son but hopefully you'll think twice before drawing it." Da's advice, as usual, had proven to be right. Fain would continue using his fists to settle most of the disputes he got into.
He was shaken from his musings when from below Mosus called out, "Hay, son of Tem, ya missed." The observation was followed by a chorus of laughter. Their stab at humor was answered a few seconds later with a well aimed barrage of snowballs.
Dusting snow from his coat, he again knelt and set about untying the leather cord that held the sack-like top of the bow case closed. He removed from the bag an ancient centaur crafted horn bow, the only possession he considered truly to be his own. Passing a hand reverently along it's length, Fain could almost feel a physical connection to his progenitors who had once yield it.
He took time after stringing the weapon to sight down its length looking for any sign of warpage. He knew he would find none though because this family heirloom had learned its shape long before he had even been born.
The bow set aside, Fain took the case and collapsed it's top inward exposing the arrows nestled inside. It now would serve as his primary quiver.
Ducking his head and right shoulder through the loop formed by the case strap he let it drop to lay flat over the sword scabbard. Fain standing reached up over his shoulder, checking once more to make sure the falcata's grip wasn't fouled by the bow case. He next rolled his shoulders a few times in an effort to help distribute the load.
Something touched his left ear causing it to flatten back against the side of his head. Looking quickly left and right then up, a snowflake drifting down kissed the lashes of his right eye. He became aware also of a cold breeze combing through his coat. 'Its starting to snow again and the winds picking up too,' He thought sourly.
The bow retrieved, Fain nocked arrow to string. He thought it best if he backed his way along the shelf to better scan the trail behind them. It seemed reasonable to assume if trouble was hunting them it would be coming from that direction. Working his way along the high trail he'd pause every few steps and checked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't wandering to close to the edge of the drop off.
Passing over his father's group two things caught his attention. First, father had shifted position to better keep an eye on his son. Secondly, stuffed behind a sash belt closely matching his natural color, Kinoe carried a miner's pick instead of sporting his favored battle-ax.
The head of the ravine having been reached Fain slowly wheeled right to left surveying the valley floor through the sight window of his bow. He finished up his sweep looking westward along the high trail and right into the face of a very large wolf! He hesitated unsure if it was one of Midway's friendlies or something else but before he could challenge, the wolf lunged sending them both over the edge.
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Fain tried yelling a warning but to his dismay it came out sounding like a scream of terror. The cry was cut short as he slammed onto the frozen snow below. His back burned as if he lay in a hot skillet, the back of his head felt like a smashed egg shell.
The final blow came an instant later when the wolf crashed down shoulder first onto the young satyr's thorax. Staggered, the wolf rolled off him disappearing from his sight.
Fain struggled to draw breath as his vision filled with billowing translucent clouds that seem to spread out and dissipate only to be replaced by another wave of clouds and another, and another. Awash in pain Fain became aware of the wolf's warm moist breath against the right side of his face.
"You die now - scum," the wolf growled. Fain braced himself for the esophagus crushing deathblow that was about to come.
The words amplified by the ravine behind him, Tem's voice boomed, "Try Me - You Mangy Lap Dog!"
"With Pleasure - Meat," Came the wolf's guttural decree.
Fain felt the wolf's hot breath sweep across his face as it turned away. A gray blur sailed across his failing vision almost at the same time.
An anguished canine howl filled his ears and a moment or so later came his father's reassuring invocation of - "For Narnia!"
Pandemonium broke out as the sounds of a battle joined reached his ears. 'Fain, son of Tem would not be left out of this fight' He told himself.
Raising up on an elbow pain like a thousand-thousand static electric shocks radiated through his chest. Dropping back to the ground panic washed over him with the realization he had no feeling below his hips. A sense of utter helplessness engulfing him he believe he now knew what it was an animal must experience when held in the jaws of a hungry predator.
Overwhelming sadness crushed his spirit like a bolder as Death's bony fingers began to tighten around his throat, choking off his breath. The lack of air clouding his vision, Fain riling against the injustice of it all was shaken by a voice, an unfamiliar voice inside his head that said to him - 'You are nothing special.'
Inexplicably Fain drew comfort from this pronouncement. The voice spoke to him again and with it came great understanding.
It, in a soft voice said. "Everyone who ever lived or ever shall live, regardless of their station in life will stand in this place someday."
This revelation ignited a flame that inwardly warmed him, driving out his fears and doubts. he now understood what it was the voice was trying to tell him.
Whatever lay beyond the veil, be it paradise or total nothingness his time had come and there was nothing to be done about it. What would be, would be.
His vision in those last few seconds clearing revealed to him the cloud filled skies of the endless winter. Lying there in the snow Fain tried to reach up, to touch it, to warn the winter that, 'eventually it too would pass. His family, all the others, they mustn't lose hope...'
His strength gone his hand dropped back to the snowy earth where it came to rest on the grip of his beloved horn bow. 'For Narnia.'