Revolution || Narnia Fanfiction || thecallofnarnia & NaturallyNarnian

Chapter 2: Ignition

It was much later that night that the flaming torches of Heath's patrol party lit the narrow, shadowed ledge of an Ettinsmoor mountain path. Though the ground was uneven and the sky around them grew darker by the minute, the small group continued upwards, unwaveringly brave but tripping and cursing most of the way.

The further they climbed, the more cutting the biting winter wind became.

"You sure they're up here?" A breathless voice called from the back of the group.

"They've always camped up here." Heath called back, resisting the urge to form a sarcastic reply. "No one ever came to face them up here because," He kicked a stone to his right, and with many thuds, which grew quieter and quieter, it tumbled down the mountain face. "Of that."

"Didn't a group try to fly up right after the Four found out about the camp?"

"They tried." Heath confirmed. "They were shot down."

"Shot down?"

"Just flaming arrows. Then the flying Rebels took out the survivors."

The weary group trekked on in silence.

"You've lost your optimism!" Heath called back suddenly, rounding a particularly jagged edge to find a large cave entrance. "We haven't been shot down! My suspicions are confirmed, too... Nobody's home."

The reactions to this news were mixed. There were some curses and mutters that they'd come all that way and would get to see no action. Others, however, released relieved exhales and dropped any heavy packs or weaponry that they'd been carrying.

"Pick them up." Heath ordered instantly. "Don't drop your guard here."

"Why?" A hound, Clemnard, who had just allowed a fellow Soldier to unclip his pack, tested grudgingly. "There's no one here."

"You're a bad sighthound!" Bronmind, a large bear called, who had immediately led a few of his comrades further into the cave and now emerged, carrying a young but struggling, clawing wolf by the scruff of their neck. "Here's someone!"

Swords were drawn instantly as the bear threw down the Wolf, who slunk back against the nearest, darkened wall, but was ultimately surrounded.

"Where are they?"

The wolf only answered with a low growl.

"Speak if you value your life." Heath demanded, blade pointed directly at the Rebel, who lowered himself and took a step back, but could go no further.

"I do not."

Heath held the creature in a solid, hateful glare for a moment. "Then you will die no matter what- but your cooperation will make it less painful."

"New Narnians do not torture. Your threats are empty."

"We do not torture under the name of the Kings and Queens." Heath replied, his blade now resting just into the fur of the wolf's neck. "I sometimes like to act...independently. Personal satisfaction, you know? I would start by slicing down your side, finish with a flourish by taking off your tail. Then, your ears, carve a little more, perhaps..."

"What I would tell you will not matter. It's already begun."

Heath's voice fell to a dangerous, rarely, rarely used tone. "What is?"

"The end of Narnia's safety."

Heath swallowed at the wolf's words. Perhaps not so much at his words, but at the satisfied, undeniable confidence in which he'd said them with. Then, Heath scoffed. "That's a shit one liner."