chapter 24

                                    

                                          
Chapter 24
A Drop of Blood
"Cakes and kettledrums!" A small chamber adjacent to the Stone Table was packed with Narnians and their two allied Telemarines. The troops outside had forced their hand. Their small army was unprepared and largely unarmed. Escape was not an option. Telmar had the How surrounded. In any case, the guardians refused to flee. Peter had proposed a plan to strengthen their numbers. Trumpkin was not in favor of it. "That's your next big plan? Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest?" 
"It's our only chance." Peter folded his arms and nodded to Dahlia. "And she'll be safe." 
Since the invasion of Telmar, Narnia's enchanted forests had fallen silent. Among the greatest losses were the trees. Ancient roots lay still for 1300 years. Dahlia remembered how they used to dance. The boughs would sway in synchrony, creating a symphony of rustling leaves. They had loved Queen Lucy the most. The idea was that if she spoke with them, they may be pulled from their slumber. Dahlia would ride with her as a guard and, if the first plan failed, a mystic to charm the earth back to life. 
Peter continued. "We only have to hold Miraz's troops off until Lucy and Dahlia get back." 
"If I may?" Caspian chimed from his seat against the wall. He scanned the room, waiting for an objection. None came. Word spread that he had reconciled with the mage. That was enough for any nay-sayers to hold their tongues. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer, but as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people. There is one in particular that may buy us some time."
***
Dahlia twirled her olive branch in the air like a baton. She stared at one of Miraz's watchmen on the tree line. The new king had set up camp deep in the woods. Edmund walked beside the mage with his own olive branch as a peace offering. Their armor glinted in the afternoon sun. Swords shined on Edmund's hip and Dahlia's back. They were going to challenge Miraz to single combat in Peter's name. Some theatrics seemed appropriate. "Do you think he'll accept?"
"Of course, he will," Edmund nodded. He straightened his posture and let the olive branch hang at his side. "Miraz is the type of man who will do anything to prove his strength. He'll revel in the chance to exercise his new power. All we're doing is dropping the idea in his head." This had been his area of expertise in the Golden Age. Peter handled the larger diplomatic responsibilities, but Edmund worked at the smaller cogs that made the kingdom run. Dahlia was always his escort on errands like these. She knew which strings to pluck to make their adversaries wary.
***
"I, Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election and by conquest, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands, in order to prevent the abominable effusion of blood, do hereby challenge the usurper Miraz to single combat upon the field of battle," Edmund read the prepared scroll in front of Miraz and his council of lords. The men sat rigid in their plush armchairs around an intricately carved table. Of course, Miraz had lugged his new luxury into the woods. "The fight shall be to the death. The reward shall be total surrender."
Edmund rolled up the scroll. He tossed it over his shoulder. Dahlia, who had been leaning against a tentpole, extended the flame she was twisting between her fingers. The parchment ignited. It fluttered to the ground in a pile of ash. Dahlia whistled. The ashes danced off into the woods.
Miraz's men ogled at the dancing ash. Dahlia walked to stand at Edmund's side; her footfalls shook the platform. The eyes of the council followed her. She folded her arms slowly. The council stared at her hands as if waiting for a miracle to spring forth. Telemarines - Caspian excluded - had been raised to fear the magic of old Narnia. To them, Dahlia was a mythical beast. Miraz cleared his throat to regain their attention. "Tell me, Prince Edmund–"
"King."
"Pardon me?"
"It's King Edmund, actually," he corrected in a blase tone. "Just king, though. Peter's the High King." Miraz blinked twice. "I know, it's confusing." 
Dahlia snorted behind her hand. The two kings looked at her. "My apologies, Your Majesty." She inclined her head to Edmund. If Miraz had powers like Dahlia's, steam would be pouring from his ears and upturned nose. "Please, continue."
Miraz scoffed. "Why would you risk such a proposal when our armies could wipe you out by nightfall?"
"Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" Edmund was bluffing, but Miraz didn't know that. "Only a week ago, Narnians were extinct."
"And so you will be again." 
"Well then, you should have little to fear." 
Miraz barked an ingenuine laugh. "This is not a question of bravery." 
"So you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?" Give or take 1300 years. The slimy grin melted off of Miraz's face.
"I didn't say I refused," Miraz hissed, leaning forward in his chair.
"You shall have our support, Your Majesty," one of the lords said, "whatever your decision." 
"Sire." Lord Sopespian. Dahlia recognized him from the visions. "Our military advantage alone provides the perfect excuse to avoid what might otherwise be–" 
Miraz shot up and drew his sword. "I'm not avoiding anything."
"I was merely pointing out that my lord is well within his rights to refuse." Lord, Dahlia noticed, not king. 
"His Majesty would never refuse," a soldier in the doorway rumbled. His name was General Glozelle. He and Lord Sopespian were always lurking at Miraz's side in the visions. "He relishes the chance to show the people the courage of their new king." Miraz narrowed his beady black eyes on the guardians. His small, pointy beard stuck out under tight lips.
"You." He pointed his sword at Edmund. The just king stepped back. Dahlia took her cue. She called to the wind. It rippled her hair and scattered papers on the table. Silver currents swirled in her eyes. Miraz's sword wavered. "You should hope your brother's sword is sharper than his pen." 
A satisfied grin slunk across Dahlia's face. She bowed deeply, letting her silver eyes flash once more before she doused them. Edmund led her from the tent. Once they were out of earshot of the camp, he swung his arm around her shoulders. "Told you it would work." 
"I almost wish we could have speared him right then and there."
"What, and miss the show?"
"I'm missing it anyway. Cheer Peter on for me."
"I will."
***
Dahlia sat astride the horse that had carried her from the Telemarine castle. Destrier's fur was the same deep brown as Caspian's eyes. The prince helped Lucy onto the saddle behind Dahlia. He adjusted the straps, then patted Destrier's mane. The steed leaned into his hand. Unable to speak like his equestrian ancestors, this was the closest he could get to showing affection.
"Destrier has always served me well. You are in good hands."
"Or hooves," Lucy grinned. She wrapped her arms around Dahlia's waist.
Caspian smiled at the young queen. He stared up at Dahlia. "Good luck."
"Thank you." She inclined her head to the hallway that connected this little chamber to the How. "Look after them for me."
"Of course. Travel safe, my lady." The prince stepped back. Torchlight illuminated an audacious smile and slightly pink cheeks as he added, "I won't be there to catch you this time."
Dahlia hummed. "What a shame." She snapped the reins before her teasing smile became a more giddy one. The tunnels darkened as torches became more sparse. As they went deeper, Dahlia was reminded of Peter calling it a tomb. She whistled an extra wisp of fire to life. Dahlia followed the earthen smell of natural magic. After the third junction, Lucy poked her side.
"What was all that back there?"
"Hush or you're going alone." But she was still smiling.