Daughter of Nowhere || A Narnia (Prince Caspian) Story

5: Thieves By Night

"You called, my liege?" asked Zenya, and the others looked up.

"Miraz's army was spotted at the Fords of Beruna," the prince explained. "They're going to build a bridge across the river."

And if they succeeded, nothing would stand between heavily-armed Telmarine troops and Aslan's How. Ina listed her head. "What are you thinking?" She knew Caspian would not suggest a direct attack on the camp; the Narnians lacked the numbers to do that.

"They have weapons," he said. "Plenty of them."

She understood immediately. "A raid."

"Only a small company will go," Kerissa the faun interjected. "We cannot risk them discovering our full numbers."

"I'm in." Ina gestured at the board. "But how are we going to get the caravans through the woods?"

At this, Caspian grinned. It was the grin of a student who'd been asked a question he knew thoroughly. A smile so keen that it made Ina's breath hitch with anticipation.

"Who said anything about caravans?"

***

The moon was a thin, curved slit in the sky; whatever illumination it provided had dissolved into the night. An acrid smoke smell hung above the Telmarine camp, their torches and machinery producing wafts of it. Hidden behind a tree, Caspian crouched, shrouded in darkness. His watchful eyes surveyed the camp, noting every shape and figure.

A soft rustle of leaves stirred beside him. "The griffins are in position. So is Kerissa," Ina said. Her hairline glistened with a light sheen of sweat; Caspian felt the same trepidation. "It's time."

He loaded a bolt into his Narnian crossbow, the familiar weight of a sword by his side. "Do you remember the plan?"

An impatient hiss. "Of course." Tonight, Ina wore a leather vest over her shirt, more daggers tucked into her belt than usual. One of them was already in her palm. She tossed a glance back at the woods, where dark shapes lay still, waiting to emerge. Ten Narnians: four centaurs, five fauns and a minotaur. If one of them died, the blame would be on Caspian's shoulders.

Biting his lip, he cleared the thought. Worrying was a waste of energy.

"Shall we?" Ina's green gaze was measured, calm. If she was afraid, she hid it well. Caspian nodded.

They left their cover, two silhouettes crossing a distance before flattening their backs against the first tent. Behind it, three watchmen sat around a fire; the flames cast shifting shadows on the canvas. Caspian's arrow flitted through the air and plunged into the chest of a soldier.

The other two guards stood in shock, but Ina's blades cut them down before they could utter a word.

Soon they were moving further into the camp, the Narnians trailing behind them. Their footsteps seemed awfully loud to Caspian's ears, the sound pushing his nerves beyond reason. With each passing second, he expected guards to pour out of the tents in ambush. But the camp lay still and silent; everyone else was fast asleep.

"Here," he whispered, gesturing at a large shape that loomed before them: the weapons caravan. Ina climbed into it gracefully and unlatched the door with a soft click, revealing the armory within.

But instead of swords and axes, which were their priority, they were greeted with the sight of ranged weapons: spears, javelins and crates of crossbows.

Gathered around the caravan, the Narnians frowned. "These are not blades," said Xanthos, the centaur leader.

Caspian gritted out, "I made a mistake."

"It doesn't matter," Zenya broke in. The grip on her longbow was white-knuckled. "We stick to the plan."

Caspian pushed out an angry breath and spun around, moving further into the camp, Ina close behind him. The second caravan lay deeper in the camp, and even Caspian was not sure where it was exactly. He and Ina would have to find it first before sending a signal for the others to follow.

As they left, the Narnians began to rope the weapons together, making them easier to carry. He caught sight of two griffins swooping downwards from the sky, landing lightly on the soft grass. They would carry the weapons back to the How.

"How much further?" Ina's voice was laced with fear. Her apprehension was not helping.

"You know, I don't live here—"

A patrol guard rounded the corner. His mouth dropped as he took in the invaders, but Caspian had already fired an arrow, silencing him with deadly speed. Ina lay the soldier down on the ground quietly.

"This way."

Back at Aslan's How, he could only map the camp's layout the way he would've set it up; he didn't think that his uncle would do things very differently—another mistake. His heart thumped wildly as they moved through the camp, seconds turning to minutes. Thankfully, there weren't many watchmen around; the Telmarines were foolish enough to think that fires could keep Narnians at bay. How very wrong they were.

Relief flooded Caspian when his eyes fell on the caravan, this time a much bigger one with crates piled outside. "There." He didn't miss Ina's quick glimpse into the carriage, checking its contents. Her doubt stung, but he couldn't blame her.

"Help me up," she said, and Caspian put his palms together, which she stepped on none too gently. Lithe as a cat, she clambered to the top of the wagon, and caught the torch that he tossed her. She then waved the torch a few times in the air before dropping to the ground in a practised roll.

He expected her to preen. Instead, her pupils blew wide with alarm, and she yanked him behind the carriage.

"What the—"

"Three guards, headed our way," she whispered. A dagger materialized between her fingers.

Caspian unsheathed his sword. "They saw us?"

She said nothing, but the guards' growing footfalls were answer enough. They had to time it perfectly. Too soon, and the men could run; too late, and they were dead. The first guard rounded the corner, and Ina flung her blades.

Caspian slammed his sword into the second, but as the soldier died in his arms, he found Ina staring at the third, unmoving. Her expression was stricken; she looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Ina!" he yelled, but it was too late.

The guard opened his mouth in a cry and tore back to the camp.