Chapter 3 - A Meeting on the Pebble Beach
When they exited the ruins of the fortress that was their home for the better part of their lives, the heat of the midday sun was already so strong, the four decided to hide in the shade of the garden. The siblings settled next to the fountain from white stone, or more precisely next to what was left of it. All that remained of the familiar centaur statue that once proudly stood on top was a half-crumbled pedestal. The trees around were so overgrown the blue sky above them wasn't even visible. But none of the trees spoke a single word. All was so silent, except for the always hungry seagulls.
While his younger brother was up, testing the balance of his sword he had found minutes ago in his chest, Peter was sitting on the sandstone bench, his eyes continuously examining the ruins of Cair Paravel and the mouth of the Great River. The island on which their seat was built was so beautiful, way more than anything he had ever seen in England. Yet wherever he looked, not a single soul around.
"Who could have done it?" His one-year younger sister was still puzzled, looking at him for his opinion. Her blue eyes resembled the colour of the nearby river.
He couldn't answer her. "What calamity had befallen on our seat of power?" It was a question that permanently settled in his head the moment they discovered where they were. Peter ventured into his now much clearer memories, to the time when he was still a king to look for any clue, any hint of possible reason why. But he couldn't find anything, some of his memories of old life coming back just minutes ago when they re-entered Narnia.
"We were gone for just a year." He gestured towards the overgrown trees and broken stones. He hesitated for a while, trying to convince himself of the inevitable fact. "Stone is stone. Even in Narnia, it doesn't break apart so quickly as these ones," he gestured towards part of a wall that once was a garden house. "Maybe it was a year.. but just for us. Maybe time flies much more differently in Narnia. Just like when we came through the wardrobe into our old home."
Edmund overheard their conversation and assumed a position nearby, being satisfied with his chosen sword. "I agree with Peter. This place has been in ruins for quite some time. Mayhap it is a work of Calormen. They certainly weren't very considerate the last time we crossed paths, remember sis?" He grinned at Susan, who just snorted and looked away in disgust when remembering Rabadash.
"When we left while on the hunt for that white stag, Narnia lost four of its rulers, without having any clear inheritors." Peter's face was down, fixated on the orange woodcutter beetle near his foot. "What if this is our mistake? We weren't here when our friends needed us the most."
There was a long silence. The wind whispered to them, bringing the subtle taste of sea salt with him. On one tree branch, a squirrel was watching them, without uttering a word. The last time Narnia was so quiet, there was snow everywhere.
"You may be right Peter," interjected Lucy with a sad but stable voice. "We left in a hurry. We didn't have the chance to tell anyone. I didn't even say goodbye to Mister Tumnus before we left for the stupid hunt. And now... they are all gone." A single tear slowly made its way down her cheek, falling down on the ground, the ground where they used to play with Edmund, the ground full of good memories. Her siblings looked just as sad.
Lucy straightened up. "But we can't blame ourselves for that. Narnia never truly belonged to us. It was a good time, but also a borrowed one. And after all, we are now back for a reason."
Edmund looked cheered up by her little speech. "That's the spirit. We must find what happened here and who is the enemy of Narnia that did this, if there is any left that is." His hand was pointing towards the main tower of the castle, but his piercingly brown eyes were locked on his older brother, who still didn't look fully out of his sour mood.
"And how exactly are you planning to find that ou..." Susan suddenly stopped mid-sentence, fixedly looking down at the river over Peter's shoulder, her skin suddenly paler than it normally was. "What is it?" asked Peter, alarmed, as he turned his head towards the source of his sister's apparent uneasiness.
"There is.. something in the water." She was right, her eyes again proving infallible from the bow training. Now, Peter could see it in the distance too. A large log was slowly swimming down the river and on top of it, something that rather alarmingly resembled a person. Trees from the garden suddenly blocked their view. All the siblings left their belongings behind and rushed down the steep slope as fast as they could, Peter leading the way.
They had to hack their way through some thorny bushes, but it hardly mattered, as someone clearly needed help. At last, a narrow beach appeared, strewn with white and grey pebbles. The mouth of the river looked even wider than from afar. Thankfully, the log was not traveling in the middle, on the contrary, it was getting closer to the shore. Without a boat, it would be an inhumane task to pull out the person barely holding on from the deeper parts.
Without any hesitation, Peter jumped into the clear blue river. Edmund, who dropped his sword somewhere on the way close behind his older brother. The current in the massive delta wasn't so strong, for which Peter was grateful. After a few quick strokes, he got to the log and waited for Ed.
The man looked nearly unconscious and utterly exhausted, certainly unable to swim to the beach on his own, even though it was close. His scratched hands were clinging to one of the narrower side branches. He didn't even notice someone else was trying to save him, his head resting peacefully on the wet wood.
"Hey, hey!" Peter tried to wake him up, with his answer being only a subdued sigh. "This is bad," Peter thought.
"Ed, get to the other side. We need to direct the darned log to the beach." Despite the fact the log was hardly moving, it was still a dangerous job. Peter had to use all his strength, grunting in the process, but they made it close enough to stand in the water and tried to grab the man. Susan soon joined them, helping her brothers to drag the limp body onto the beach.
The young man in the unfamiliar black armour had drenched short brown hair and was incredibly pale, even more than the stressed Susan. The situation became worse when Edmund looked at his hands and the red colour was ominously visible.
"He is bleeding!" screamed Susan now directly looking at Peter, her worried look asking him what to do. Peter had seen multiple wounds during his reign as high king. There sure were a lot of them after the battle of Beruna. That one year back in England was a long time, however, even with the world war still without any signs of stopping. Yes, there were stories, pictures of the wounded war veterans, but he nevertheless grew a bit accustomed to the less violent civil life in England.
"Ed, help me roll him over." Once they could see his back, it was not hard to spot the problem. Likely an arrow wound, Peter guessed. "Not looking good. He must have lost a lot of blood."
He looked at Lucy with a grim expression, but his little sister's hands were already frantically looking for something in her small leather purse. Her most prized belonging that once saved Edmund from the clutches of death was soon in her tight grip. The almost heavenly red liquor filled just half of the gold-embellished bottle, being used a number of times already.
Although he often reminded her to use it only in the most severe situations, Peter quickly nodded and with Susan, they gently rolled the wounded man on his back. Without any hesitation, Lucy knelt near him and poured one drop of the miraculous cordial into his mouth. They were all on edge, patiently waiting for any reaction. They waited a long time in complete silence, hope gradually abandoning them. Peter noticed that tears started to appear on Lucy's face. His instincts immediately told him to hug her, but Susan was quicker in that regard. "You did everything you could," Edmund comforted her, as Susan stroked her light brown hair.
Suddenly, a subtle bubbling sound. A thought appeared in Peter's mind just as unexpectedly. "He is trying to breathe!" With a desperate push, he positioned the soldier on the side. It certainly helped, as he was now freely coughing a small amount of water out of his body. Lucy and Susan both had the exact same reaction, indicating their sisterhood, mouths open in utter surprise. Peter was worried for a while, that the nearly drowned man would cough his lungs out, with how heavy and unending it was.
"UGHE, UGHE.. Ughe." The man was now able to move his hands and looked visibly less pale and for lack of better words, less dead. Gradually, the coughing started to disappear, as the man used his left arm to shift onto his back. His eyes were wide open, glassy and a bit red from his time in the river. The younger siblings stood up, but not Susan and Peter. "Hey, can you breathe alright?" asked Susan with concern.
His eyes weren't looking at her, they weren't looking at anything. "The arrow," he gasped with some difficulty. "Whers the... arrow."
"It must have fallen off. Don't worry, the wound should not bleed anymore. We gave you medicine," tried to explain Susan. He tried to stand up but was unable to lift himself yet. Edmund urged him to be careful.
"I was... floating in a river. Where am I?" he asked a bit panicked. He spoke English, but his accent sounded very strange, as if old. Peter looked at him, still a bit worried, but it seemed that the cordial had worked wonders yet again. "Yes, you were. On a log, but we pulled you out."
The stranger went silent for a moment, almost as if trying to learn again how to properly breathe. With a sudden growling sound, he managed to finally sit. "Thank you for that," he murmured weakly. "I thought I was done." At last, he examined his saviours. In their clothes they took from the royal chests, the siblings must have looked a bit out of place. Both brothers wore their leather vests, under them a blue and a red shirt. Susan wore a purple shirt, a similarly coloured long skirt, and a leather corset. On her back was a quiver, although she forgot her bow near the fountain when running to the river. Only Lucy wore a simple orange-white girl's tunic.
The soldier briefly brushed through his short hair, as if trying to remember something. "Áris be good*, I lost my sword too," he cursed.
Meanwhile, Peter was studying him, puzzled by his appearance. He certainly doesn't look like a Calormen, which was a welcomed fact. "Perhaps he could be a traveler from Archenland? Or maybe even more likely, a lost fisherman from Galma. The island wasn't that far from Cair Paravel after all. Either way, he should be able to tell us what happened here."
"My name is Peter," he introduced himself in a friendly but careful manner. "This is Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. My siblings." Edmund nodded his head while Lucy smiled somewhat shyly.
"My pleasure. I am Flori. I would have gotten up to properly greet you, but... I am afraid my leg is still not healed." he said in a tired while trying unsuccessfully to force a smile.
"No worries. We thought you were dead just a few minutes ag..." Edmund tried to clarify but was soon shushed by his older sister. "Rude," she whispered and then worryingly looked back at the soldier. "Can you tell us who attacked you?"
His eyes closed as if he was trying to forget what happened, but his mouth opened nonetheless. "The leg... that is the work of a hired asesino*. I was too slow. The arrow... There were many of them. Just like from the old stories. Little dwarves with hammers, a goat-like man, huge Taurus that stood on two legs. He had a damned axe. Monsters from the forest."
The Pevensies all looked at each other as if looking for answers and opinions of others. "You are describing a Minotaur," Peter declared with confidence. Edmund followed with a question directed at his older brother. "Dwarves, Minotaurs, do you think her creatures united again and attacked Narnia? There is no snow or ice. Surely, she couldn't have come back from the dead."
Flori disrupted their little contemplation. "Of course, there is no snow, it is the middle of summer," he explained carefully. It sounded a bit as if he was trying to talk to a crazy person. "Look, I don't know who they were or how you know about them, but the deep woods are dangerous. Nothing but suffering ever came from them." Peter took notice of a painful sadness that suddenly settled deep down in his eyes.
"Where are you from, Flori?" asked Susan emphatically, yet curiously at the same time.
"From the Town of Caspian, although I was born near Marchendale*." All the siblings seemed perplexed by the answer. "Aand that is in.. Narnia?" asked Susan carefully.
For his part, Flori looked more puzzled than all of them combined. "Damn, you never heard of those places? Really? They should teach more geography in Archenland. Don't be surprised, I recognize the accent*," he smiled, the first time that it was genuine.
Lucy looked like she was about to say something, but Peter moved his hand a bit in order to stop her. It would be rather difficult. Explaining they are kings and queens from ancient legends, not just some kids from Archenland. This Flori probably already thought they were weird, and this would not help at all. Besides, nothing yet guaranteed Flori could be trusted. He remembered the first time they ended up in Narnia when the White Witch deceived his younger brother so easily. Peter decided it would be better to act more carefully this time.
"I may need a bandage." Flori's attention shifted from them back to his leg, when he carefully touched the wound under his thigh, where he had a gap in his armour. His weary eyes unexpectedly widened. "It's gone. The sword wound is gone," he exclaimed happily.
Edmund's expression was that of satisfaction. "Pretty awesome, isn't it? You can thank Lucy for that. She once saved me when I was nearly dying with the same cordial. Not as tasty as it looks, but everything can't be perfect."
The little grey stones under Flori shifted, making gentle sounds, as he finally stood up on his legs. He still looked a bit sick, but overall, significantly better than just a few moments before. "My lasting gratitude, moza*. I am in your debt," he remarked towards Lucy. His voice was mild and filled with sincerity.
Only now did he register the imposing structure in front of him. The ruins of the fortress stood on a huge cliff, its high towers mostly crumbled, but parts of the buildings and most of the walls still stood. They were barely visible, as nature already claimed the castle a long time ago, mainly with acacia, roses and ivy. "Is that... what I think it is? Dear lord, I never saw it with my own eyes. Must have been hours in the darned river if this is what I think it is."
"Cair Paravel," assured him Peter, but was quickly engulfed in remorse again. "How great was the view out of the King's tower." One could always see the ships, sailing on the dark blue ocean towards the river from the numerous islands Narnia controlled. Sometimes at night, when he wanted to be alone, the charming and mysterious songs of the sirens could be heard. Not anymore. "What if the place will never be the same again?" The idea alone adamantly pressed against his chest.
"Do you know what happened here? Why is it so desolate?" asked Peter with the hope that the situation may be a bit more clarified.
The soldier narrowed his eyes as if again puzzled they didn't know. Nearby, a woodpecker bird started to drum into some tree with his beak. Maybe Peter was just imagining things, but he could feel the tension in the air. "My grandfather once told me he sailed around with traders when he was a mere boy. He described the place very similarly to what we can see now. For what I know, it had been abandoned for a very long time," he shrugged his shoulders.
Peter didn't want to press the matter anymore to not raise any suspicion, but a certain weird feeling told him that Flori was concealing something from them. His brother stopped his worries for the time being. "We should head back to the gardens. There is drinkable water, and more importantly, my dropped sword lying somewhere on the way," declared Edmund jokingly.
This chapter was a bit shorter, but the Pevensies appeared, so that should be a compensation. Susan is of course the worried one, Lucy is the heart of the group, Edmund the jokester and Peter the brave leader. If you want, you can let me know how you like these personalities so far, but I can tell you some of them will change as the story progresses.
Next time we will leave Cair Paravel and go back to Enara. Miraz will finally make an appearance.
Notes*:
Áris be good – A prayer addressing one of the three champions of God. Áris is a corruption of the Greek god of war Ares. He plays a similar role to the Telmarines, so it is mainly used by soldiers. Even though Telmarines lived in Narnia for a very long time, their religion is still derived from their original home, Earth, mostly from Christianity. Will touch more on that later.
Asesino – Assassin in Spanish.
Marchendale – A non-canon town in northwestern Narnia where Flori was born.
"I recognize the accent" - As ancestors of the people of Archenland originally came from the late 19. century England, their accent is indeed a bit similar to the Pevensies. Funnily enough, Flori thinks he recognizes the accent. Of course, he cannot know he is wrong.
Moza – A girl in Spanish
Character Summary:
Florien Kastelo – Telmarine soldier, currently guardsman, Age 18, Short brown hair, Tall, Left-handed.
Peter Pevensie – Age 18, golden hair
Susan Pevensie – Age 17, pale skin, blue eyes.
Edmund Pevensie – Age 15, brown hair.
Lucy Pevensie – Age 13, light brown hair.
