Narnia fic: Carpetbaggers Chapter IV, Part 12 (1400 words)
Chapters I and II are here.
Chapter III and earlier parts of Chapter IV are here.
*
Even the bird-song was muffled in the misty pre-dawn morning. Narnia's stars, so much larger and brighter than England's, were paling, and a faint green light crept up the eastern sky. Susan shuffled her feet, toes curling cold inside her boots, and rubbed her hands on her arms.
Beside her, Edmund puffed with effort as he drew the tiny bow back and forth, drilling into the wood. Fraxinus looked on from Edmund's other side, and grunted once (in approval or discontent, Susan couldn't tell).
Around them, people were gathered, standing silent in the clearing; in the darkness they were just odd-shaped shadows, no two the same size. But for all the chill in the air (and again Susan wondered about the turn in the weather: how soon would it come? Would they be ready for it?), they stood quietly, even contemplatively. Well, mostly quietly: one of the Centaurs stamped, and was hushed by Silversharp.
A spark, at last, sprang from the end of the drill: a flicker of light in the darkness. And another, alighting in the shavings and punk Edmund and Fraxinus had gathered. Edmund didn't speak yet, but gathered tinder carefully, feeding it to the tiny fire until it was a fist-size flame, burning merrily in a copper bowl chased with the same runes Susan had seen on the Stone Table.
"Now, king," said Fraxinus quietly, and Edmund stood up, balancing the bowl between his palms. He went to step forward, and then stopped, and turned toward Susan.
"I think..." he said, and extended the bowl towards her.
Susan caught her breath, nodded, and lifted her hand to take hold of it. Thus, carrying the fire between them, they stepped forward towards the pyre.
The dryads had worked through the night, bringing wood and stacking it just so; the Centaurs had laid the dead among the logs, washed and wrapped and limbs straightened: gathered in, in whichever way was appropriate for their people. The two great Cats were curled tight like house cats on a pillow; the Dwarfs all faced their beloved earth; the dozen Fauns each had given up a horn to a comrade-in-arms before being laid with their heads toward the rising sun. Even the Goblins had their right hands bound to their left shoulders in the ancient tribal salute.
The sun was just about to rise. Susan and Edmund paced once, twice, three steps, and then stopped. "How do we light it?" Susan asked in a whisper, her face flushing. She had not realized she had a role in this, and had slept while Edmund conferred with Fraxinus and Stormcoat about the ceremony.
"Torch on your right," hissed Edmund. "Light it from the bowl."
The pyre climbed high before them: too many dead to count, and Susan wondered what had happened to the dead after the first battle. They had swept away to Cair Paravel without a thought, afterwards. Surely they did not still lie on that plain, skin withering in the summer sun? Surely not.
She made sure Edmund had the copper bowl firmly in his hand, and reached for the torch. It was lighter than it looked: a length of dry oak bound at one end with pitch and grasses. She raised it to the crowd around them (it seemed the right thing to do) and lowered it to the bowl.
There was a crackle, and then fire sprang up in a bright crown at the top of the torch. Susan lifted it again to the crowd. Edmund stepped away for a moment, and then touched another torch to hers. In the flickering light, his face was pale and set. He looked away, over her shoulder, and shook his head. "Not yet," he said.
They stood there, holding the burning torches, watching the horizon, until at length a single ray of light came over the hills to the east to touch the treetops around them. "Now," said Edmund, and began to pace clock-wise around the pyre.
Susan turned and walked slowly counter-clockwise, and at every step she touched the torch to the bundles of tinder and kindling in the pyre, stacked under and around the (too many) Narnian dead. At the south end she saw the Cyclops' body, and caught her breath in a gasp, but did not shame herself. She recovered, lit the bundle with the torch, and went on.
By the time she met Edmund again where they had started, the fire was beginning to spread throughout the pyre, crackling and snapping. It was no longer quiet in the clearing, and it was quite uncomfortably hot so close to the flames.
Edmund led her away from the pyre, still walking slowly and ceremonially, and finally stopped where it seemed that everyone could see him. "We send our brothers and sisters to Aslan's Country, with honor and love," he said. "May they find rich grazing, good hunting, fertile soil, and the peace he promises us. Honor and peace to them all."
"Honor and peace to them all," said the company, and with that Edmund and Susan reversed their torches, extinguishing them in the damp earth.
They left the pyre burning behind them, tended by three of Stormcoat's Centaurs and one of the Goblin prisoners (Goblins have specific requirements for their dead that other peoples find disturbing), as they struck camp and headed back south and east towards the Witch's castle. Susan was glad to put the battlefield behind them, but the smell of the pyre followed them for some miles until the wind finally changed in mid-morning.
Armies, even small ones, travel slowly, and armies burdened with prisoners even more slowly. So it was no surprise that Rhea met them at mid-day near Tumnus' cave, returning from the Witch's castle with word from Peter and Lucy.
"Well?" demanded Edmund, as the Wolf fell into step with them, near the head of the line. They were at least out of the forest and into more open country now, and could spread out a bit; Susan had been uncomfortable at how they had been strung along in a long line. That was, after all, how they had been caught off-guard yesterday.
Was it only yesterday? Astonishing.
"They are both well," said Rhea, with a sly flick of her ears. "The Castle is taken, with no losses. They were naturally concerned about you, queen," she said, looking at Susan, "after the Eagle's garbled message, but I was able to reassure them."
"Next time, I'll send a Magpie along," promised Edmund.
"Anything else?" Susan asked. She was sore after sleeping on the ground again, and hungry for something other than Fraxinus' horrid gluey mash. She would even be willing to eat dried mutton, if she had enough water to wash it down with. Maybe they could do some fishing or hunting once they got to the castle.
Rhea's hackles ruffled, and she dropped her voice. "Your brother is unsettled. By what, he would not say, but I think they made some disturbing discoveries in the castle."
Susan wasn't surprised, although it wasn't something she had thought about, either. But the castle had been the Witch's capitol, and her prison as well. She didn't like to think what it was they had found--had there still been prisoners locked away? How horrible!
"He'll tell us when we get there," said Edmund. His mouth was set, his face as pale as it had been before dawn.
"No doubt," said Rhea, and glided away to greet Stormcoat.
They walked on for some way, following the advance guard, a squad of Fraxinus' Fauns and two young Centaurs. In the distance a scout came cantering out of the trees. Over breakfast, Stormcoat had had a long talk with Edmund about battle array and things like that. Edmund's face had turned purple once or twice, but he had never stomped off the way he used to when Peter dressed him down, so Susan decided it went all right.
"I don't like being separated like this," she said, as they approached the trees. "I worried about Lucy all day yesterday."
"Huh," said Edmund, thoughtfully. "I didn't."
Susan scowled. "Edmund--!"
He waved a hand at her as he stepped over a fallen log. "Not like that, Su. Just--I can't say how, it's like I just knew she was all right. When I thought about her, I wasn't worrying."
"Well, I worried," said Susan. She stepped over the log too, and adjusted her bow so it hung more evenly. "But--but I wasn't worried this morning." She touched Edmund's shoulder, and he glanced back at her with an inquiring look. "Why wasn't I worried about Lucy this morning?"
"Because she was all right," he answered.
Susan rolled her eyes. "Yes, but how did we know that?"
Her brother just shrugged, and turned away to follow the Fauns up the trail that led over the wooded ridge. Just beyond that, they were told, was the Witch's castle. "It's Narnia, Su. It must be magic."
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments; comment here or there.
Chapter III and earlier parts of Chapter IV are here.
*
Even the bird-song was muffled in the misty pre-dawn morning. Narnia's stars, so much larger and brighter than England's, were paling, and a faint green light crept up the eastern sky. Susan shuffled her feet, toes curling cold inside her boots, and rubbed her hands on her arms.
Beside her, Edmund puffed with effort as he drew the tiny bow back and forth, drilling into the wood. Fraxinus looked on from Edmund's other side, and grunted once (in approval or discontent, Susan couldn't tell).
Around them, people were gathered, standing silent in the clearing; in the darkness they were just odd-shaped shadows, no two the same size. But for all the chill in the air (and again Susan wondered about the turn in the weather: how soon would it come? Would they be ready for it?), they stood quietly, even contemplatively. Well, mostly quietly: one of the Centaurs stamped, and was hushed by Silversharp.
A spark, at last, sprang from the end of the drill: a flicker of light in the darkness. And another, alighting in the shavings and punk Edmund and Fraxinus had gathered. Edmund didn't speak yet, but gathered tinder carefully, feeding it to the tiny fire until it was a fist-size flame, burning merrily in a copper bowl chased with the same runes Susan had seen on the Stone Table.
"Now, king," said Fraxinus quietly, and Edmund stood up, balancing the bowl between his palms. He went to step forward, and then stopped, and turned toward Susan.
"I think..." he said, and extended the bowl towards her.
Susan caught her breath, nodded, and lifted her hand to take hold of it. Thus, carrying the fire between them, they stepped forward towards the pyre.
The dryads had worked through the night, bringing wood and stacking it just so; the Centaurs had laid the dead among the logs, washed and wrapped and limbs straightened: gathered in, in whichever way was appropriate for their people. The two great Cats were curled tight like house cats on a pillow; the Dwarfs all faced their beloved earth; the dozen Fauns each had given up a horn to a comrade-in-arms before being laid with their heads toward the rising sun. Even the Goblins had their right hands bound to their left shoulders in the ancient tribal salute.
The sun was just about to rise. Susan and Edmund paced once, twice, three steps, and then stopped. "How do we light it?" Susan asked in a whisper, her face flushing. She had not realized she had a role in this, and had slept while Edmund conferred with Fraxinus and Stormcoat about the ceremony.
"Torch on your right," hissed Edmund. "Light it from the bowl."
The pyre climbed high before them: too many dead to count, and Susan wondered what had happened to the dead after the first battle. They had swept away to Cair Paravel without a thought, afterwards. Surely they did not still lie on that plain, skin withering in the summer sun? Surely not.
She made sure Edmund had the copper bowl firmly in his hand, and reached for the torch. It was lighter than it looked: a length of dry oak bound at one end with pitch and grasses. She raised it to the crowd around them (it seemed the right thing to do) and lowered it to the bowl.
There was a crackle, and then fire sprang up in a bright crown at the top of the torch. Susan lifted it again to the crowd. Edmund stepped away for a moment, and then touched another torch to hers. In the flickering light, his face was pale and set. He looked away, over her shoulder, and shook his head. "Not yet," he said.
They stood there, holding the burning torches, watching the horizon, until at length a single ray of light came over the hills to the east to touch the treetops around them. "Now," said Edmund, and began to pace clock-wise around the pyre.
Susan turned and walked slowly counter-clockwise, and at every step she touched the torch to the bundles of tinder and kindling in the pyre, stacked under and around the (too many) Narnian dead. At the south end she saw the Cyclops' body, and caught her breath in a gasp, but did not shame herself. She recovered, lit the bundle with the torch, and went on.
By the time she met Edmund again where they had started, the fire was beginning to spread throughout the pyre, crackling and snapping. It was no longer quiet in the clearing, and it was quite uncomfortably hot so close to the flames.
Edmund led her away from the pyre, still walking slowly and ceremonially, and finally stopped where it seemed that everyone could see him. "We send our brothers and sisters to Aslan's Country, with honor and love," he said. "May they find rich grazing, good hunting, fertile soil, and the peace he promises us. Honor and peace to them all."
"Honor and peace to them all," said the company, and with that Edmund and Susan reversed their torches, extinguishing them in the damp earth.
They left the pyre burning behind them, tended by three of Stormcoat's Centaurs and one of the Goblin prisoners (Goblins have specific requirements for their dead that other peoples find disturbing), as they struck camp and headed back south and east towards the Witch's castle. Susan was glad to put the battlefield behind them, but the smell of the pyre followed them for some miles until the wind finally changed in mid-morning.
Armies, even small ones, travel slowly, and armies burdened with prisoners even more slowly. So it was no surprise that Rhea met them at mid-day near Tumnus' cave, returning from the Witch's castle with word from Peter and Lucy.
"Well?" demanded Edmund, as the Wolf fell into step with them, near the head of the line. They were at least out of the forest and into more open country now, and could spread out a bit; Susan had been uncomfortable at how they had been strung along in a long line. That was, after all, how they had been caught off-guard yesterday.
Was it only yesterday? Astonishing.
"They are both well," said Rhea, with a sly flick of her ears. "The Castle is taken, with no losses. They were naturally concerned about you, queen," she said, looking at Susan, "after the Eagle's garbled message, but I was able to reassure them."
"Next time, I'll send a Magpie along," promised Edmund.
"Anything else?" Susan asked. She was sore after sleeping on the ground again, and hungry for something other than Fraxinus' horrid gluey mash. She would even be willing to eat dried mutton, if she had enough water to wash it down with. Maybe they could do some fishing or hunting once they got to the castle.
Rhea's hackles ruffled, and she dropped her voice. "Your brother is unsettled. By what, he would not say, but I think they made some disturbing discoveries in the castle."
Susan wasn't surprised, although it wasn't something she had thought about, either. But the castle had been the Witch's capitol, and her prison as well. She didn't like to think what it was they had found--had there still been prisoners locked away? How horrible!
"He'll tell us when we get there," said Edmund. His mouth was set, his face as pale as it had been before dawn.
"No doubt," said Rhea, and glided away to greet Stormcoat.
They walked on for some way, following the advance guard, a squad of Fraxinus' Fauns and two young Centaurs. In the distance a scout came cantering out of the trees. Over breakfast, Stormcoat had had a long talk with Edmund about battle array and things like that. Edmund's face had turned purple once or twice, but he had never stomped off the way he used to when Peter dressed him down, so Susan decided it went all right.
"I don't like being separated like this," she said, as they approached the trees. "I worried about Lucy all day yesterday."
"Huh," said Edmund, thoughtfully. "I didn't."
Susan scowled. "Edmund--!"
He waved a hand at her as he stepped over a fallen log. "Not like that, Su. Just--I can't say how, it's like I just knew she was all right. When I thought about her, I wasn't worrying."
"Well, I worried," said Susan. She stepped over the log too, and adjusted her bow so it hung more evenly. "But--but I wasn't worried this morning." She touched Edmund's shoulder, and he glanced back at her with an inquiring look. "Why wasn't I worried about Lucy this morning?"
"Because she was all right," he answered.
Susan rolled her eyes. "Yes, but how did we know that?"
Her brother just shrugged, and turned away to follow the Fauns up the trail that led over the wooded ridge. Just beyond that, they were told, was the Witch's castle. "It's Narnia, Su. It must be magic."
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments; comment here or there.