The caravan driver had had a long day. Three bloody carts of goods in one afternoon, he cursed in his head, from Telmar to—wherever exactly this was. Morale was low amongst the soldiers; the king had been working them in a near obsessive fashion. First it was the bridge—which had cost the lives of several men to build—and now this attack in the middle of the forest, on a people who were few and strange, but dangerous.
Oh, yes. Dangerous. the men were afraid of them, he could tell. The Narnians were unnerving as much as they were fascinating. And the fact that their young prince, descended from the royal bloodline, sided with these people made the Telmarine soldiers all the more skeptical.
Not to mention the men still doubted their newly-elected king. Or rather, self-appointed king.
The caravan jostled with every rock and root on the forest floor. Inside, the grains had long since scattered from their originally neat piles, forming a large pool of mixed lentils. But the men will not complain; they will eat what has been delivered, and they rarely checked the supplies, so desperate they were for food in this isolated camp. They would never notice that inside the wagon, hidden carefully behind the canvas covering, two young souls crouched, keen-eyed and heavily-armed.
Not daring to speak aloud, Caspian made a series of complicated hand gestures to Ina, which she did not appreciate.
What? she mouthed.
"We're going to reach the checkpoint," he whispered. "Hide."
But they needn't have bothered, really. The guards gave a grunt, and waved the caravan through without even a glance at its contents. The wagon continued its rattling until it came to a stop.
Quickly, they lifted the canvas flap and hopped out, scuttling behind a nearby shrub to take cover. Mere seconds after they did, the driver appeared and began unloading his goods.
Their surroundings were quiet for now; the soldiers did not gather at the goods storage area, especially not after supper. Ina and Caspian were lucky to have caught this caravan; it was likely the last one that entered the camp for the night.
"Where would the prisoners be kept?" she murmured.
Caspian squinted from behind the bush, trying to make sense of his whereabouts. "I don't know. We've never kept prisoners at camps before."
The training grounds lay before them, while the soldiers' quarters were to the south. She saw that most of them had already retired to their tents, and allowed herself a small breath of relief.
"Then where would you have kept them?" she prodded. Ina saw that Caspian's dark eyes were constantly darting; she felt the same nervous energy herself. The shadows seemed to wash the colour from his tan skin; either that, or he was pale from anxiety.
"I wouldn't have kept prisoners."
"Caspian, I swear—"
"But I'm guessing they're there." He jerked his chin towards the training grounds. No torches were lit there; they would have to trust moonlight to pave their way.
"Alright, then. Let's go."
As soon as the driver turned his back, they moved out of the shrub, crossed a short plain and sneaked behind a weapons tent. From here, they could hear the sound of a few swords clanging, and fear prickled their skin.
Not everyone was asleep, it seemed.
Ina chanced a peek around the corner.
In a small clearing, two men were duelling, though their movements were lazy and lacked finesse—they were probably just trying to pass time. And beyond them—her heart gave a hopeful lurch—was a crude wooden cage, its bars visible across the distance. Ina shuddered at the thought of such barbarism. She imagined Miraz would be above keeping women and children in cages. She was wrong.
"I see a cage," she breathed. "But I can't see if they're inside."
"Might as well start there."
They approached carefully, moving in and out of darkness until they were close enough to properly view the cage. Now, they could see that there were indeed people behind the bars, huddled close. To their dismay, a soldier stood guard, spear and shield in each hand. He didn't look tired, as if his shift had just begun.
"Even if we take him out from the back, the other two would see," said Caspian, gesturing at the battling soldiers.
"Do you think we can wait them out?"
"Probably. It's the safest bet we've got. But let's move around to the back."
They gave the camp a large berth, not wanting to take any chances. When they eventually reached the cage, they found that the training ground was empty.
A trill of anticipation ran through Ina. She felt Caspian's whisper a warm breath in her ear, "Now. I'll take care of him; you get the door."
Ina nodded and followed him. Moving with feline stealth, Caspian emerged from behind and drove a dagger into the guard's back, hand clamped over his mouth. Quietly, Ina headed for the giant, rusted padlock.
Shh. She pressed a finger to her mouth when she saw the startled faces staring back at her. There was a woman who must be Sapphira, and two young boys not older than ten. Her half brothers, she realised with a jolt. Elias's sons. Even in the dim light she could see the resemblance—dark curls, soft cheekbones, shrewd eyes that contemplated if she and Caspian were friend or foe. Their grubby faces suggested that they'd been trapped here for a while. At least Elias hadn't lied about that.
"Elias sent us," Ina mumbled as she picked the lock, practised hands twiddling the two knitting needles she'd taken from Trufflehunter's belongings. Trufflehunter. The name gave her a renewed sense of urgency.
"He's alive?" Sapphira clutched the bars. There was no mistaking her expression—it was love; undeniably, clearly, love.
"Quite so."
The three watched warily as Ina struggled with the padlock; it was so rusted that the pins were difficult to feel, and her sweat-covered palms were definitely not helping.
"How much longer?" Caspian asked.
"Keep quiet."
Voices, deep and slurred. They came from across the training ground.
"Hurry!"
But Ina hadn't even secured half of the pins. "We won't make it."
Heart pounding, she tugged Caspian's arm and they slid around the cage, hidden behind the prisoners' silhouettes.
"I'm tellin' ya, they're savages, but not very bright," said one of the soldiers. "This'll be easy!"
"Our general doesn't seem to think so."
"Regardless, that boy king is way in over his head."
Ina shot Caspian a worried glance. Three soldiers, headed this way. Even though he'd gotten rid of the body, they were sure to notice the guard's absence.
"Oi! Wasn't Ammuz supposed to keep watch?"
Their footsteps grew closer and closer. Ina glanced at Caspian and he nodded.
They sprang when the soldiers' footfalls halted, sleek shadows materialising from darkness. Ina's knife cut one soldier down, and they made short work of the other two. The men had been holding flasks of beer, unprepared—a stroke of luck for her and Caspian. Unfortunately, a short scuffle broke out between Ina and her victim, and she muffled his cries a little too late.
She had to pray they were far enough from any waking soul.
Her fingers found the lock again; this time she worked through the pins much faster. Distant noises travelled through the air, setting her further on edge. A bead of sweat rolled into her eyelashes and she wiped it away impatiently.
Click.
The lock had snapped at last. Caspian swung the door open, wincing as it creaked. Without a single word, Sapphira and her children scrambled out of the cage.
"This way."
They led the family down another path that winded through the woods; it was a detour, but it took them further away from the camp. A feeling of safety came upon Ina as they ran past the trees, but she knew she could not let her guard down. The forest was no longer a refuge from Telmarines. So they kept running, never stopping to rest, and after an hour or so, much to Ina's relief, the familiar outline of Aslan's How came into sight.
Caspian gestured to Sapphira. "He's in there."
The woman simply nodded and pulled her sons closer. Then, quite suddenly, she spoke. "You're Elias's daughter, aren't you?"
Ina let an awkward silence drag out before she reluctantly replied, "Was."
"He's spoken of you," the woman continued as she walked behind them. Caspian cast Ina a quick frown.
"Madam, I hardly care," she replied with exaggerated patience. "So please, let us make haste."
"He searched for you."
Ina halted.
Blood rushed to her head at the mention of Elias's lie, echoed so innocently by his wife. But Sapphira did not sound like she was lying.
Ina rounded on her. "Do you know what he's done, Sapphira? As we speak, your husband is holding my friend at knifepoint. My friend, who is more a father to me than Elias will ever be."
Sapphira gulped and curled her hands at her sides. "Love brings out the worst in us. Would you not do the same for His Highness, here?" Her eyes flicked to Caspian.
Ina ignored the question and marched on. "Call it whatever you want. That man has no love for me."
"Not the way I see it."
She said nothing to that.
Caspian's fingers brushed her elbow. Almost there, his touch said, though Ina wasn't sure just how she knew that. She gave his arm a short squeeze in return.
When Ina and the others reached the room that held Elias, it calmed her slightly to see that Trufflehunter was seated, albeit still within arm's reach of her father. Elias was holding the knife, but he wasn't pressing it into the badger's body anymore. Peter sat in a corner, gray shadows circling his red-rimmed eyes. His tawny hair was sleek with grease; he looked horrible for a High King, though Ina knew that was probably because he hadn't slept a wink in days.
Elias swung his head up. "Bain! Seth!"
"Papa!" The boys dove into their father's embrace. Ina herself swept Trufflehunter up into her arms, and though she knew he didn't like being lifted, he beamed at her through misty eyes.
"Thank Aslan you're safe," he murmured into her shoulder.
She smiled, relief crashing over her like a wave. "You have a bad habit of feeding your enemies."
"Caspian doesn't count."
Bless Peter for having the good sense to snatch the dagger out of Elias's hand. It was as if someone had popped the bubble of happiness that cocooned them; everyone was instantly aware of the violence that took place hours ago.
Elias and his family eyed the rest fearfully. He knew he had lost his advantage; anyone could hurt him now. Or worse, his family.
It was Peter who spoke at last. "Get out. Before we change our minds."
Elias seemed to hesitate and glance at Ina. But it happened so briefly that she couldn't be sure.
With hurried motions, Sapphira herded her husband and sons out of the doorway, and they were gone within the blink of an eye. The others didn't move; the silence was so sudden that they didn't know how to react.
Then, as if her body decided to act faster than her mind, Ina was tearing past the room and into the craggy hallways.
She saw their scampering figures and stopped. Her footsteps must've been loud, for they were all alerted by her presence.
For an instant, Ina stared stupidly at her father, and he stared back. She felt as if she were looking at an image from a dream, familiar yet strange. So many questions surged through her mind: Is it true that you looked for me? Why didn't you find me? Why did you leave?
Have you ever loved me?
Instead, all she said was, "Do you...need a horse?"
Frowning, Elias nodded silently. His sons and wife had fixed their gazes on her, too. All of them had brown eyes save for the youngest boy—his were green like his father's, like Ina's.
"Down this stairwell and to your right. You'll find the stables there. Take the white horse."
They nodded once more and left.
Ina had the sudden urge to follow them, to make sure they didn't take Caspian's steed, Destrier, or her own Bree.
Or did she just want to see her father once more?
Peter, Trufflehunter and Caspian found her gazing at the doorway through which the family left. "What did you say to them?" Trufflehunter asked kindly.
"I gave them a horse. Kerissa is going to kill me," she said, only half joking.
Peter looked puzzled—and maybe even a little annoyed. They didn't have many horses, after all. But then his face broke into a wan smile, and Ina saw that he was actually handsome when he wasn't being stern.
"Just this once, I'll take the blame for you," he said, and turned to leave.
"Peter!" Caspian called, and the High King paused. "Rest well...for tomorrow."
The corner of Peter's mouth lifted. "You, too."
Then he was gone, leaving the others to breathe in the stillness.
Ina gazed at the troubled faces of Caspian and Trufflehunter; they both looked like they had escaped a tunnel only to find themselves in a cave. "Are you alright?" she asked.
They both bowed their heads wordlessly. "Tomorrow," Trufflehunter sighed.
Caspian repeated, "Tomorrow."