We Seven

A Narnia & Mirror, Mirror Fanfiction

Part 7

"Ugh! What do you think's taking them so long?" Jo asked, pacing the length of the cavern in front of the Stone Table as she and Nicholas waited for Edmund to return with Glenstorm the Centaur and the good Giant Wimbleweather. "Either Miraz accepts, or he doesn't."

Nicholas had been alternating between dangling a bit of thread he'd pulled off the frayed end of his cuff in front of the cat he'd rescued during the raid and looking at his pocket watch, even though it didn't keep time anymore. Only the cat had fallen asleep – he'd been getting too lazy to chase the string for a good hour before he dozed off, besides – so Nicholas was peeking at the watch again.

Opening and closing it gave him something to do.

He'd wanted to bring the challenge to Miraz himself, but Edmund was a king while he'd only been an Archenlander prince turned Narnian lord, and – apart from that – he'd injured his arm during the raid and the unsightly bruise where the blood gathered under his skin certainly didn't give the desired impression. Of course, he didn't think Wimbleweather was much better as a sentry, regardless of his being a giant, because the second he said two words any Telmarine worth his salt would be able to tell how incredibly stupid he was. Hopefully, Edmund would have the sense to tell him to remain silent until they got back to the How.

Poor Reepicheep had also wanted to be a sentry beside the king and – worthy mouse – sensed Nicholas had been overlooked in the same manner as himself for this noble task; he'd been unceasingly kind and gallant to him ever since, never minding their former disagreement about the cat. Nicholas flushed with shame to remember his thoughts about the rat traps and cheese now.

With an exasperated sigh, Jo plopped down beside Nicholas, looking at the watch in his hand, at the miniature of his sisters within. "They were lovely."

He smiled a wet smile. "Thank you."

Then, "Oh!"

"What is it?"

"Nothing," said Jo; "it's just... I hadn't realised before... Your eldest sister looks a little like Susan."

The facial features were sharper, the head larger, the hair lighter, but there was a certain resemblance.

"I suppose she does, in some ways." Nicholas considered, squinting harder. "Although, I think the resemblance is stronger in the little portrait here than it was in real life. My sister and yours had very different bearings and ways of speaking and comporting themselves."

It explained a couple of things, Jo thought to herself. Firstly, why Nicholas – back when he'd been Prince Alexis – had not been initially drawn to Susan, despite her being thought – by most – the prettier sister. Most boys would have looked at her before Jo. But Alexis probably associated Susan looks with those of his sister, at least on some subconscious level. Second, Rabadash's interest. Nicholas told her Rabadash had been considered as a possible marriage match for his sister once, and had thought her head was too big. Susan looked rather like her, but with smaller, more delicate features.

Clearly that old – literal – ass Rabadash had a type, too...

She was about to ask Nicholas whether he thought the resemblance had had any bearing on the Calormene prince's obsession, when Reepicheep came padding across the stone floor to tell them his mice had spotted Wimbleweather on the horizon and so Edmund must be returning.

They met their brother outside the How, looking grave. Lucy and Royce were standing a little way off, whispering to one another.

"Well, Ed? Here we all are." Nicholas gestured round. "Is it good news or bad?"

"Both," he said drily. "Depending on how you view it."

"And what does that mean?" asked Jo.

Edmund gulped once and glanced over their heads at Lucy and Royce, who stared back with four pairs of wide light-blue eyes.

"It means, Josephine," he said, "Miraz has accepted."

Jo had a great deal, on all sides, to worry about, following Miraz's acceptance of Peter's offer of single combat.

Obviously, she was anxious for Peter, doing the actual fighting.

He might be the high king, he might have fought giants before, but he was the age and size of a schoolboy again, while Miraz was a grown man. Moreover, a grown man who was not above killing people who got in his way, given he'd murdered his own brother. Even with everybody watching them, it was difficult for Jo to imagine Miraz would behave honourably and not pull any dirty tricks.

Besides, if he did cheat, if Peter was harmed or killed by foul play, what could their side – outnumbered by the Telmarines as they were – really do about it?

Then, out of sight but not in the least out of her mind, there was Nicholas.

Peter suggested – and they'd all agreed – Nicholas ought to be the one to ride out with Lucy to find Aslan and, hopefully, bring him back before a full battle was underway should anything go wrong with the duel between Miraz and Peter. His reasoning was that Nicholas was one of their fastest riders. He could drive any beast at top speed, let alone a simple horse. Hadn't he rescued Edmund – albeit what felt like lifetimes ago – by means of speed and of a single reindeer pulling a sledge? But there was also some heavy-handed diplomacy in this suggestion; none of them liked the idea of a haemophiliac near such an unevenly matched battle, especially after how badly the raid on Miraz's castle had gone, Peter included, and so he'd found a way of keeping Nicholas out of it without giving offence to his brother-in-law.

It was hardly a safe substitute mission, on any count, however. Anything might go wrong. He and Lucy might be seen and stopped. And even supposing they made it through unhindered, Aslan himself was not a tame lion. Jo wondered if Aslan might not be upset with all of them for how poorly they'd handled things this time.

Her fear for her husband was only worsened when Caspian returned riding the horse Lucy and Nicholas had left the How on earlier, unaccompanied by either of them. Caspian brought the horse to Susan and whispered something to her as Jo came pushing her way through the Narnians watching the duel, breathlessly demanding to know what happened.

Susan put a hand on her arm. "She got through. Lucy did. There were Telmarine sentries, but she slipped off the horse and got past them."

Jo felt blood thrum in her ears. "And Nicholas?"

Susan dropped her sister's gaze, discomfited.

"What?" she demanded, maybe a little louder than she meant. "What is it?"

"He fell off the horse, too," Caspian explained. "He hurt his arm again, the one he injured before in the raid. He fell directly on top of it. The sentries were nearer than I. They took him. But I am sure once Queen Lucy returns with Aslan, they will be made to give him back to our side."

Jo snorted. "If they don't kill him first, you mean?"

"Jo, for pity's sake, don't nag at Caspian like that," Susan told her. "It wasn't his fault. Nicholas knew – we all knew – what risk there was."

She narrowed her eyes. "So, what, Su? If Nick's run through by stab-happy soldiers, or tortured, or bleeds to death because the Telmarines don't know about haemophilia, it's fine because we always knew sending him out as Lucy's only guard was a risk, is that it?"

"N-no," she stammered, blinking rapidly. "Of course not. I only meant–" She clenched her jaw a moment, choking off. She was not sure any longer what she meant – what she had meant when she'd begun talking, trying to be sensible – and Jo was glaring daggers, making her falter.

"I truly do not believe they will do anything to him," Caspian interjected, hoping to stop the sisters quarrelling and calm Jo's fears. "They cannot be high-ranking men. All their superiors are here, watching Miraz. And I know these sorts of men; they will not act without orders, only detain him."

Whirling on him, Jo fumed, "You shouldn't have taken the horse and left him!"

"The Telmarines would have already taken him away, Jo – how could Caspian have caught up?"

"He had the horse, didn't he? What in blazes did he come back here for?"

"To tell you what happened!" But he looked rather miserable, perhaps wondering if Jo might not have a point.

"To tell Susan, you mean." She shook her head as if desperate to clear it, as though the motion could empty it of all her buzzing, racing thoughts. "Look, whatever, all right?" Glancing over her shoulder at Peter and Miraz circling each other, hefting their broadswords, sweat pouring down their faces, "The minute anything in this fight goes wrong, I'm going after him."

Susan cried, "Of course you aren't!"

But of course, Jo insisted she was. In a confusion, as the prisoner of the Telmarines, not to mention a lord of the old Narnians, anything might happen to him. And she did not intend to let it.

Susan whispered something to Caspian that made his eyes widen slightly, but then he handed her something wrapped snugly in a little cloth bundle. Tsk-tsking her disapproval, she pulled back the wrappings and withdrew her ivory horn that had been her Christmas gift the first time in Narnia, the horn which brought them here this time.

"Take this," she said to Jo, and pressed it into her hands. "If you do go rushing off into the wretched wood to rescue him... Well, I still think you're being naughty – downright foolhardy and naughty to a fault – and if Peter weren't fighting Miraz right now, I'd tell him not to let you do it. But of course I can't stop you. So you might as well have something. If nothing else, I daresay it's as good as a flare would be in our world. You probably will get yourself lost and nothing better for all your pains. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Jo's face softened and – tucking the horn into her belt – she grabbed Susan's and kissed it. "You're a brick, Su!" she cried passionately as she released her. "I'm sorry I ever thought you a wet blanket, even when I never said it aloud. You always act as if you're set against everything, just like a cross schoolmistress, but deep down you know when a thing's got to be done and you'll give freely of the best you have to help!"

"Hmmph." Wiping at her cheek with one hand, Susan cleared her throat several times and tried – and mostly failed – to look stern.

Perhaps because the Telmarines – excepting those younger ones who, sometimes secretly, were more like Caspian, loving the old ways – were not very honourable, and would certainly have made their conqueror ancestors proud enough, it was inevitable that there would be a betrayal.

Miraz would slip, and although Peter would have not only let him up but – if it could be risked – have helped him up, the usurper's own men were hardly of the same noble turn of mind.

Later on, when they were talking about it briefly amongst themselves, Susan was indignant they'd tried to blame her! Oh, that wretched moment when Sopespian pointed up and said she'd shot their king, when he'd just stabbed him before them all!

"The Telmarines are blind! Anyone could see that thing sticking out" – and she blanched, hating to think of a dead body, even when it was that of the murderous uncle of Caspian who she liked so much – "of...of him... Miraz, I mean. Anyone could see it was not one of my arrows."

"Or," replied Peter, having had a closer view of the whole scandal than his sister, "they simply wanted a reason to bring it to open battle. We all guessed it would happen, Su."

Still, it seemed pretty unfair.

Jo thought so as well, but – since she supposed Peter was safe enough with Edmund, Royce, and Susan watching his back – her chief care was for her captured husband, and she took off just as she'd said she would.

She managed to go around the battle, largely out of harm's way, though it was vexing because the quickest way is often the straightest line; even in a country that has become dense with pines as Narnia had during her long absence. And, moreover, for all she knew, each moment counted. There was no telling what the Telmarines would do with Nicholas now both armies were in chaos and there wasn't even a clear leader supposing their side beat out Caspian's, not anymore.

Arriving at Beruna's Bridge, she stood panting on one side, looking out at reinforcements for the Telmarines right across the other. That they might take her, too, when they crossed the bridge, never entered her head, not even when she spied Nicholas hunched up front on a horse like a child or a potato sack in a way she was sure he must find very uncomfortable and embarrassing, a Telmarine in full armour behind him. She did have time – just – to feel sorry for the poor horse. Nicholas had always been slight, even if he was tall, but it was easy to suppose – from the mount's perspective – his small weight couldn't be a very welcome addition to that of the behemoth draped in mail.

She heard Lucy's cheerful cry of, "Jo!"

Turning, she saw Lucy – hair flashing golden in the sun and her cheeks flushed – running alongside Aslan, who had a strange old lady on his back.

Jo would have cried with relief. Here she was at the end of her strength, no idea how she was to proceed, and rescue had come! And she hadn't even needed to blow Susan's horn to summon it! She wanted to whoop, but the cheer died on her lips before ever it became proper sound.

Aslan's roar was very loud, but it wasn't that – nor the increasing whoosh of water – which silenced her; she was not drowned out, though she got a literal and very thorough dampening. The roar summoned a river-god whose gushing mouth gurgled, "My chains are loosened!" as he surged over the Telmarines in a deluge.

They were all washed away, and Nicholas with them.

Jo's mouth was still a silent O, one of complete horror, and she sank to her knees in the bank, rather muddy now. She was beginning to sniff, her thin shoulders shaking, droplets (or maybe tears) sliding off her nose and chin, when the watery hand of the river-god deposited a dripping but otherwise – apart from his previously hurt arm – unharmed Nicholas beside her.

Just as a giant whose hand was flesh instead of water might have done, the river-god patted Nicholas's head. He was already soaked to the bone, so it could not make him any damper, and clearly the gesture was meant to be affectionate.

Jo stared, grateful but uncomprehending.

"Thank you." He nodded at the river-god, granting his wife a little side-smirk. "Grandfather."

"Jo." Susan's eyes were rimmed with red. "Aslan wants to see you and Nicholas. He has something to say to you both."

Lucy glanced up from where she was sitting with the Talking Mice, holding back a smile and listening to Peepicheek, Reepicheep's second in command, recounting Aslan's restoration of his chief's tail – as if she hadn't been there for it and seen the whole thing transpire for herself – and asked if Aslan wanted her as well.

"No, Lucy," Susan told her – speaking somewhat shortly – just Jo and Nicholas; what Aslan had to say, she sniffed, wasn't for 'the ears of you younger ones'.

And Jo, though she suspected something dreadful must be up, because she'd seen Peter and Susan walking with Aslan earlier – and now Su looked so unhappy, downright miserable – couldn't really blame their little sister for breaking her queenly repose and sticking her tongue out at them.

Jo wasn't certain what she expected, but she felt a rush of relief when Aslan had nothing more shocking to say than that she and Nicholas – if he chose to return to their own world with them – would not be returning to Narnia.

It might have been something far worse. He might have said he couldn't heal Nicholas's injured arm this time. Or announced the Telmarines had extra reinforcements coming in from some hither unknown place and he would not be here to help them when they arrived.

Instead, Aslan – looking golden and grave – shook his great mane and said, "You must begin to come close to your own world now you are getting older." To Nicholas, he added, "As the world of your adoption, of your choice, that is the world you must come to know me better in. It would do you no good, my son, to know me only here when your heart is there."

Jo frowned. "Are you in our world, Aslan? How come you don't visit us there? I'd like to see you."

"I don't doubt you would, daughter of Eve, for you have been as glad as any of my visits in this world, but in yours I have another name. I know you always, child – but do you know me yet?"

"Guess I don't," she mumbled but was not unduly distressed, because Nicholas had walked around Aslan's tawny bulk and taken both her hands, as she'd taken his in the treasure chamber.

Guilt at her own relief struck her when she saw Susan saying goodbye to Caspian and realised. If Susan's prince was going to be king of Narnia, if they'd done everything to restore him to his throne, then he wasn't coming home with them.

And if Susan was not to come back, not ever...

"Rotten luck," Jo said, and tried to put her arms around her sister, to offer comfort.

Susan rebuffed her, albeit gently. "He is thirteen hundred years too young for me, you know. Now be quiet – Aslan is gathering the Telmarines together and has something more to say."

Before he did, he roared and created a door within a twisting willow tree near the edge of a small cliff-side. After this, he recounted a story revealing the Telmarines were not originally of the Narnian world; rather they – or at least their ancestors – were pirates from the same world as the Pevensie children.

"Gosh!" said Royce, impressed on account of pirates. He'd been fighting real pirates! Or nearly.

Before she schooled her features into cold blankness, Susan appeared momentarily angry. Jo realised, later, she must have been thinking how extremely unfair it was, Caspian being one of their kind, descended from their own world, a son of Adam, but he could stay on in Narnia while she...

While she was to be barred.

Aslan offered the Telmarines the choice – and again Jo noticed Susan trying very hard not to be cross – between going back to a world where there were no Talking Beasts or staying in Narnia and living under the new order, where they must not think of themselves as superior to animals any longer.

Caspian was surprised when his own aunt Prunaprismia (holding her baby in her arms), who had never seemed the trusting sort, accepted the offer. Her dark red hair looked blood-coloured under the midday sun and she gave her nephew a haughty look, only there was something – something new – in it, or underneath it perhaps, that made him sorry he had always disliked her, that she had always disliked him, that they would never know, now, whether they would have always felt disdain for each other if things had been different.

He gave her a regal bow as she stepped forward with his cousin and went through Aslan's door with her teeth set.

And then she was gone – disappeared – and the Telmarines were shouting how did they know it was safe?

The old lady who had been on Aslan's back when Jo had seen him call up the river-god she'd thought – for an ugly moment – drowned Nicholas, asked if she must go to prove it was all right. Caspian put a hand on her shoulder, restraining her, for – as it turned out – she was his childhood nurse, the one who told him stories before she was sent away and replaced by his tutor, and he was not at all keen to lose her so soon after finding her again.

Nor did he like the idea of his old caretaker living in another world with a crew of bitter Telmarines who'd made it clear they didn't hold with the things she held most dear.

By way of finding a solution, Nicholas gently nudged the cat through, though this took a great deal of coaxing, and the mewling, uncooperative cat swatted at him and flopped down uselessly in front of the tree-door several times in refusal, before it was managed.

(Anyone who knows about cats of course knows Nicholas was extremely lucky not to be scratched or bitten in the process.)

When the Telmarines were still not satisfied, scoffing it was only a dumb cat, Edmund whispered, "Aslan, maybe you should have changed him into a Talking Cat first."

Aslan laughed a lion's laugh, a great rumbling golden one, and said, "Nay, son of Adam. You know me only a little, but well enough – I hope – to understand I don't achieve ends that way."

"Besides," Peter added, "we couldn't have a Talking Cat prowling about our world. It would cause a great stir."

"It might be all right, I suppose," put in Royce, "if you could persuade the cat to keep quiet when people – people who didn't know his secret, where he came from – were around."

"Royce" – this was Jo – "have you ever met a cat?"

In the end, of course, it was they themselves – the Pevensies – who had to prove the door's safety by going through it, back to the underground of the Strand Station, which seemed especially dreary after the brilliancy and beauty of Narnia.

None of the others seemed to be taking anything home with them, but Aslan didn't stop Jo from carrying off her rucksack containing Swan-white's veil, nor did the chain with her engagement ring vanish when her Narnian clothes became her school uniform again.

She made a face and tugged at the hem of her newly restored beige skirt. "Yuck," she muttered.

For the colder months, those in the dead of winter, Helen had arranged with the headmistress for her eldest daughter to wear trousers, to be more comfortable, but she wasn't allowed them at the beginning of the term.

Then Jo stopped groaning over her bare legs and despised knee-high stockings, and saw Susan withdraw a glittering object – especially bright in this dingy tunnel – from her pocket, just as Edmund began complaining to the others he'd forgotten his new torch.

She realised she'd been wrong about no one else apart from herself bringing back a keepsake from Narnia.

Susan had carried out the little chess knight she'd found.

Helen Pevensie was surprised to find a cat rubbing his head against her leg. Indeed, so surprised she nearly dropped the pale blue china plate she'd been drying.

Setting the narrowly salvaged plate down out of harm's way and draping the dishtowel over her shoulder, she put a hand to her brow and tried to think. She couldn't remember having had a pet in the house before. Where had this funny puss come from?

Still, he was acting as if he belonged here... Tail up and swishing... And it was rather quiet – even lonely – with the children all gone to school for the term, even her little Lucy...

She supposed she could find something for the cat to eat...