Two Kings and Two Queens.
Peter sat on a bench with his three other siblings, feeling sore and bruised. They were waiting at a train station for the train that would take them back to boarding school.
"You're welcome," his brother said.
"I had it sorted," Peter huffed, getting up from the bench.
"What was it this time?" Susan asked.
"He bumped me," Peter replied.
"So you hit him?" Lucy asked with wide eyes.
"No, after he bumped me he tried to make me apologize. That's when I hit him."
"Really, is it that hard to just walk away?" Susan sighed.
"I shouldn't have to! I mean, don't you ever get tired of being treated like a kid?" Peter asked, frustrated.
"We are kids," Edmund pointed out.
Peter looked down on his brother, and said the words that had been on his mind for the last year.
"Well I wasn't always." He could sense his siblings share the same feeling he had. "It's been a year now."
"I think that we should just face it. He's not going to call us back," Susan said. Peter saw Lucy look at her with hurt in her eyes. How could she say that?
"Uh, Oh," Susan said suddenly, and turned her body towards her siblings. "Pretend that you are talking to me."
"We are talking to you," Edmund replied, getting himself a glare from his sister.
"Ow," Lucy cried out, jumping up from her seat.
"Stop it Lucy," Susan said sternly, but then Edmund jumped up. Pretty soon, all four siblings felt as if something was pulling them.
"It feels like magic," Lucy shouted.
"Hold hands," Susan cried. Peter grabbed her hand, and then reached his hand out for his brother's.
"I'm not holding your hand," Edmund whined at Peter.
"Just do it," Peter ordered.
Suddenly, the train station disappeared. The bricks and tracks melted away, replaced by rocks and sand. Peter's heart caught in his throat. They were back!
Peter watched Susan and Lucy give each other a look, and race down the beach, throwing off their jackets. Peter and Edmund followed close behind. Soon, all four were in the ocean, splashing each other and laughing with joy. But Peter noticed that Edmund had a peculiar expression on his face.
"What is it Ed?"
"Where do you suppose we are?" his brother replied.
"Where do you think?" Peter asked, surprised that his brother would think anywhere else.
"Well, I don't remember any ruins in Narnia."
Peter followed his brother's gaze. Sure enough, there were ruins that he didn't recognize.
The four siblings looked at each other curiously. Where were they then?
Peter led his brother and sisters up a steep path towards the ruins. As they reached the top, they realized that they were completely surrounded by water. They were on an island!
The four of them set off in different directions, looking and admiring the place they had discovered.
"I wonder who lived here," Lucy commented.
"I think we did," Susan replied. Peter looked at his sister questioningly, but noticed that she held something in her hand.
"That was part of my chess set," Edmund exclaimed.
"Which chess set?" Peter asked.
"Well I didn't exactly have a solid gold chess set in Finchley now did I," Edmund said sarcastically.
Peter looked at the golden knight piece, with a red ruby for an eye.
"It couldn't be," Lucy whispered. Peter looked over at his sister, and saw her gazing at the center of the ruins.
Lucy walked toward the center, the three siblings closely following.
"It is."
"What is it, Lucy?" Peter asked.
To answer him, she took a hold of his arm, and pulled him towards a small mound of rocks, turning him around.
"Imagine columns," she said, pulling her sister's arm, "And a glass roof." Taking Edmund's arm, she put him on the right side of Peter, then went to take a place to the left of Susan. Suddenly, they saw the place that it once was.
"Cair Paravel," Peter said hoarsely. It was Narnia! They were at Cair Paravel, their home! But still, a single question came to Peter, one that he did not say aloud. If they were in Narnia, and they were all together, then where was Miranda?
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Cornelius looked through another book, and still could not find the origin of the arrow. None of them seemed to have anything on the arrow. He put the book down, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He had been up for hours trying to figure this out.
Suddenly, he heard noise in the courtyard, and raced to the broken window, putting the arrow in an inner pocket in his robes. Looking down, he saw the group of soldiers that had set out the night before chasing the prince. Destrier was with them, a small bundle on his back.
Cornelius's shoulders relaxed at the sight of no Caspian. But news traveled fast through the city, and he quickly found out that though they had not gotten the prince, they had got a dwarf. Curious about a Narnian, he went down to the prison cell.
He went down two stories of stairs, and entered a steel door. Then, a voice said;
"What do you want?"
Cornelius turned his head to see a soldier glaring at him.
"Is the Narnian prisoner down here? I wish to speak with him. I thought that I might take some notes."
The soldier rolled his eyes and muttered something about news traveling where it shouldn't and meddlesome old men. But he let Cornelius through, and he went down to the cells.
The dwarf sat on a small wooden bench, not talking or moving as Cornelius approached. As he came up to the bars, the dwarf dared to raise his eyes to look at him. A small smile came up on his face, and he whispered;
"Half dwarf."
Cornelius's eyes widened.
"How did you know?"
The dwarf allowed a small chuckle to escape him, and said;
"Just call it the ability to feel other dwarfs. Not to mention that you are shorter and fatter than any other man, even an old man."
"Well, you are right. I am half dwarf."
"I know that I am right. I wouldn't have said it if I was wrong."
Cornelius was silent for a moment, then asked;
"How did they find you? Why did they bring you here?"
"They are Telmarines. They do whatever they want. As for how they found me, I attacked them, trying to protect another."
Cornelius's head shot up.
"Who were you protecting?"
"Oh, I'm not sure. It was a tall young man, with dark brown hair. He had fallen off of his horse."
"That was Prince Caspian!" Cornelius all but shouted.
"The prince! Well, that makes things different."
"Yes it does," Cornelius agreed. The two were silent for a few moments, both of them soaking in this news.
"Is he safe?" Cornelius whispered.
"Yes. I left him with a friend. And I told him to take care of him. I just hope he knows which take care of him I mean. But if he doesn't, Trufflehunter will."
Cornelius did not ask who Trufflehunter was. He assumed it was another Narnian, and as long as Prince Caspian was with Narnians, he should be safe.
He suddenly felt a point to his side, and he looked into his robe. The arrow had gotten loose from its place, and had slightly pushed in his side enough for him to feel it. Taking the arrow out of his robe, he studied the feathers once more.
"Where did you get that?!" the dwarf suddenly exclaimed.
Cornelius nearly jumped out of his skin as the dwarf spoke.
"It would be a lie to say I found it. Let us just say that it found me."
"If I may?" the dwarf whispered. Cornelius handed the arrow to the dwarf, and could see tears spring up in his eyes.
"Ever since I found this, I have tried to find its origin. Do you know?"
"Do I? Every Narnian dwarf knows their origin. These arrows are not made anymore, but none were stronger or faster. This is an arrow used during the Golden Age. Used by the greatest and best of the Narnian soldiers and fighters. It was said that even the Warrior of Narnia used these arrows."
"Warrior of Narnia?" Cornelius asked, puzzled.
"Don't tell me you've never heard of the Warrior? He lived during the Golden Age of Narnia; he was Narnia's protector, and the bodyguard of the kings and queens of Cair Paravel. The day that they disappeared was the day he did. Never again has a Warrior set foot in our lands."
Suddenly, two soldiers barged into the dungeons, and the dwarf hastily gave Cornelius the arrow.
"Thank you," he whispered. And then, he was dragged away.
Cornelius looked down at the arrow in his hands. Now that he knew its origin, he wanted to know who the Warrior was. He raced up the stairs back into his rooms, and opened up a book. He was going to find out who this person was.
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"Catapults."
"What?"
"This didn't just happen. Cair Paravel was attacked."
Peter looked down at what his younger brother was looking at. He was right. Cair Paravel had been attacked. He glanced up, and saw something familiar.
"Edmund, come here." His brother followed him to a wall, and Peter felt his way to the end. Pushing with all of their might, the brothers slowly moved the wall away, to reveal a door on the other side. The wood was old and rotting, taking no time to knock it down. His brother and sisters watched as Peter then tore a part of his shirt off and wrapped it around a stick.
"I don't suppose you have any matches with you?" Peter asked his brother.
"No," Edmund answered, looking through his bag, "But would this help?" He pulled out his new torch.
"You might have mentioned that a bit sooner," Peter laughed.
Smiling, Edmund led the way through the tunnel. The four siblings held their breath as they walked down the flight of stairs. Looking below them, they saw things that looked familiar. Getting excited now, they raced down the rest of the stairs.
The first thing they saw was four marble statues standing behind four wooden trunks. Three siblings raced for the trunks, and began opening them like old friends.
"I was so tall," Lucy said almost wistfully, holding up a full length dress.
"Well, you were older then," Susan said.
"As opposed to hundreds of years later, when you're younger," Edmund commented, a huge helmet on his head.
Suddenly, Lucy said;
"What's wrong Susan?" They all looked at the eldest sister, and noticed a peculiar expression on her face.
"My horn! I must have left it on my saddle, the day we went back," she replied. Everyone was silent at the loss of such an important gift.
And then Peter looked up at his own statue. A tall young man with broad shoulders and a crown upon his head stared back at him. Now things would get back to normal!
He walked up to his own trunk and opened the lid. The very first thing he saw was his sword, Rhindon. Picking it up, he slowly unsheathed the sword. It shined in the light, and Peter felt himself go back years ago. Once again, he felt like the high king.
"When Aslan bares his teeth, winter meets its death."
"When he shakes his mane," Lucy whispered, "We will have spring again." Then, a horrible realization dawned on her. "Everyone we knew; Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers, they're all gone."
The others were silent as the words sunk in.
"I think it's time we found out what went on here," Peter said, a strength in his voice that his siblings recognized. They all nodded, and began rummaging through the trunks for clothes more their size.
As Peter dug through his trunk, his hand found a small leather pouch. Curious, he opened the pouch, and pulled out his birthday necklace from his 18th birthday. He smiled at the small replica of Rhindon, and slipped it on his neck, then felt something else in the pouch. He put his hand in, and pulled out something else. He gasped!
It was Miranda's necklace!
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Miranda sat in the forest, her back resting against a tree. She was exhausted. She had been running for she didn't know how long, trying to find the source of the horn's cry. And now, lack of sleep and food had finally caught up with her.
"Maybe just a few moments," she told herself, "Just a few minutes."
And, wearily, she closed her eyes. Within moments, her breathing became deep and slow. And she fell asleep.
She awoke what seemed like only seconds later. She could promise that she heard voices. Becoming really still, she listened, and then heard;
"I just think that it would be better if we waited for the kings and queens." The voice was soft and smooth, and Miranda knew immediately that it was a talking animal.
"Well I'm coming with you. I would love seeing you try to explain things to the minotaurs." Miranda recognized the gruff voice of a dwarf.
"Minotaurs? They're real?" Now Miranda didn't recognize the origin of this voice at all. The being who had said this had a heavy accent, and she had a feeling that it was human. But who it could be, she had no idea.
"And very bad tempered," the soft voice said.
"Not to mention big," the dwarf commented.
"Huge," the soft voice answered again, as if to completely make their point.
"What about centaurs? Do they exist?" the unfamiliar voice asked.
Now the travelers were within Miranda's eyesight, and she could clearly see them. The soft voice turned out to be a talking badger. Miranda smiled at a familiar sight. Her gaze then fell on a black dwarf. Again, a small smile crept up on her face. Then she looked at the strange one, and had to keep her voice muffled as she gasped.
The strange voice was indeed a human. A tall, dark haired young man with a sword at his side, and Miranda recognized that type of sword. The style was Telmarine; she could even see the emblem on the sheath.
"Well, the centaurs will be more likely to take your side," the badger said, answering the young man's question.
"What about Aslan?" Miranda's eyes widened as he said the words. How would he know about Aslan? Why would he want to know about Aslan? Telmarines never had cared for Aslan or the Narnians, and from the way things seemed now, they still didn't. Why did this one young man know or care to know about Aslan?
"How do you know so much about us?" the dwarf questioned suspiciously.
"Stories," the young man answered, as if it was the only answer.
"Your father told you stories about Narnia?" the badger asked.
"No, my professor," the young man answered. Then he began to say something else, but then, it seemed as if a great pain had taken him, and he said;
"Listen, I'm sorry. But these are not the sort of questions you should be asking." With that, the young man began walking forward again.
But the badger paused a moment, and sniffed the air.
"What is it?" the dwarf asked his companion.
"Human." Miranda pulled herself completely behind the tree, afraid that she had been discovered.
"Him?" she heard the dwarf ask.
"Yes, the young man that has been with us this whole time. Yes, I couldn't figure out his scent until now," Miranda thought, rolling her eyes. "Of course it's not him."
"No. Them!" the badger said, panicked. Miranda suddenly heard noises from another side of the forest. She turned her head, and saw a group of soldiers advancing fast.
"Run!" the young man shouted.
Miranda pulled out her bow and took out an arrow. Aiming carefully, she shot one arrow, then as fast as she could, took another out. Within seconds, that arrow was shot too. Miranda shot two more arrows before she looked behind her towards the badger, dwarf, and human. The badger was on the ground, wounded. He was handing something to the young man, and he took it, trying to quickly secure it in his belt. Miranda caught sight of what it was.
It was Susan's horn!
He was the one that had sounded it, crying for help! Without another thought, Miranda reached back for another arrow, and shot down another soldier. Then, suddenly, man by man fell down, and never came back up. Miranda's eyebrow knotted in confusion as she watched this strange sight. Finally, all of the men lay dead, and the grass suddenly seemed to be moving, right towards the young man.
A big ball of fur appeared out of nowhere, knocking the young man to the ground, disarming him. Miranda saw a mouse a foot tall. A smile creeping up on her lips, she slowly walked away. She knew that if this mouse didn't find out that he was a friend soon enough, that at least the badger would let him know.
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Sniff, sniff
That smell was unfamiliar to Trufflehunter. It wasn't a bad smell. Actually, it was kind of pleasant. But never before had this scent come to him. Following his nose, he came right up to one of the dead soldiers, and was surprised to see an arrow in him. Pulling it out, he took a good smell.
Yes. Whoever had shot this arrow was who he smelled.
"Nikabrik, I think that you should take a look at this."
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Peter looked behind him to make sure that his companions were keeping up. He saw his two sisters, his brother, and now a dwarf, following close behind him. Even though it had only been this morning, Peter smiled at how they had met the dwarf.
"Drop him! Is that the best you could come up with?"
"A simple thank-you would suffice," Susan said.
"They were doing a good job of killing me on their own!"
"Well maybe we should have let them," Peter said, angry at this welcome.
"Why were they trying to kill you anyway?" Lucy asked.
"They're Telmarines. It's what they do."
"Telmarines? In Narnia?" Edmund exclaimed.
"Where have you been the last few hundred years?"
"It's a bit of a long story," Lucy said.
Oh, yes. That had been a bit of an adventure. Trumpkin had by this time proven himself quite good and loyal, not to mention willing to do anything to free Narnia.
But now, it was getting late, and they decided it was time to rest for the night. Peter's gaze rested on his youngest sister, still not looking all too cheerful.
"Do you really think that I don't know Aslan when I see him?"
Yes, he admitted it, he had been wrong. They had even gone back when he realized his mistake. But there was no hiding the disappointment on Lucy's face. They hadn't believed her, and that was enough.
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Miranda's back rested on the grassy floor. Finally, she had found some water and a little bit of fruit to sustain her. And now, she was ready for some much needed rest. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep on the forest floor. And once more, the dream came.
But it didn't happen the way it did before.
She saw the arrows shot, but this time, there was no cry, and there was no blood. The next king of Narnia was safe.
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Cornelius bent over the book he was reading. After many long tedious hours, he had found a book that told of the Warrior. Cornelius was amazed as he read of the many deeds he had done, of the friendship he had with the high king, and of what he was willing to sacrifice for Narnia.
But a small paragraph had caught Cornelius's attention, and he read;
After the Warrior has come once more,
And all things in Narnia are well,
The heart of the Warrior will become sore,
It shall become dead and still.
Fear not young Warrior,
He waits for you,
Waiting with his arms open wide.
Your heart once weak,
Now is strong,
And you shall stand by his side.
"What could it mean?" Cornelius asked himself. Would the Warrior truly die after it was all done? If not, what did the poem truly mean?