Chapter 4

The waves that lapped against the rocky shore of the bay were grey and barely blue. The sun hid behind the clouds as it usually did afraid of the new sovereign ruling Narnia. Two armor covered soldiers rowed in a small boat, carrying unpredictable cargo yet silent except for the water hitting the oars. Then one spoke up.

"He won't stop staring," The man rowing glanced down at the individual at his feet. "So don't look," The other soldier readjusted the crossbow on his knee. Their paranoia and uneasy feelings of danger did not leave their bodies. The soldier glanced again at the small man at his feet, who stared back at him with resentment and another unexplainable expression. His hands and feet bound and he himself, gagged. The man stared back quietly, only further aggravating the soldiers.

"Here's far enough," The man burst out angrily. The small man's eyes suddenly grew frantic as both men stood up and grabbed him, prepared to throw him overboard. An arrow embedded itself in the side of the boat and all three men looked up to see a woman load another arrow onto her bowstring. She aimed at them as four more people ran up behind her, sheathing swords, daggers, and aiming one more arrow. "Drop him," She commanded. "Crows and crockery" The small man mumbled under his gag before being tossed into the water.

Susan shot an arrow into one of the soldiers and Samantha got off a clean shot to the heart, on the other. Peter dove after the man and pulled him ashore while Edmund dragged the boat up on the sand. Lucy dropped to her knees and cut the man's bindings with her dagger as the five individuals stood around him. He rolled onto his side and chocked up water, trying not to ingest sand in the process. They all looked at each other and waited for the stranger to speak. And speak he did.

"Drop him!" He furiously threw down the shredded rope. "That's the best you can come up with?" He glared at Susan. "A simple thank you would suffice," She replied. "They were doing fine drowning me without your help," He motioned toward the water, the scorn still in his voice. "Maybe we should have let them," Peter said. "Peter," Samantha chided touching his shoulder. The man sighed and stood down. "Why were they trying to kill you anyway?" Samantha tilted her head in inquiry. He looked up at the petite blonde. "They're Telmarines," He flicked his arm trying to get rid of excess water. "That's what they do,"

"Telmarines?" Edmund questioned, "In Narnia?" "Where have you been for the last few hundred years?" The dwarf of a man derided. "It's a bit of a long story," Lucy smiled down at the man. Susan looked over at Samantha and gave her a half smile. Peter looked down at her as she handed him back his sword. Suddenly it dawned on the man as he watched them. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he paused still not believing. "You're them?" "You're the Kings and Queens of old, and you, you're her?" He looked at Samantha. Her eyes held confusion at this man's recognition. "High King Peter, the magnificent," Peter extended a hand. The short man eyed it with an entertained air. "You probably could have left off the last bit," Samantha said. The man laughed. "Probably,"

"You might be surprised," Peter drew his sword. "Oh, you don't want to do that boy," The dwarf cocked an eyebrow. "Not me, him," Peter looked over at Edmund. Peter gave his sword to the man as Edmund drew his. The man feigned weakness and let the sword tip drop to the sand. Edmund glanced over at Peter. The man swung out and clashed swords with the dark haired boy. He swung again and Edmund ducked only to be knocked in the nose by his elbow. "Edmund!" Lucy shouted. "Oh, you all right," The man, mocked. He swung again and Edmund dodged it whacking him in the rear with his sword. Lucy laughed.

The man looked back at Edmund and grunted, swinging again. Edmund ducked, jumped and dodged his swings. They clashed, blocked, clashed again, until Edmund had the smaller man beat. The tip of his sword pointed at the man's jugular, and the man's eyes wide in disbelief. He fell back onto the sand. "Beards and bedsteads," he exclaimed. "Maybe that horn worked after all," Peter looked over at his siblings. "What horn?" Susan said.

Screams echoed throughout the fortress as a woman gave birth to a baby boy. One lone soldier approached a man who looked out across a kingdom that he would kill to rule. "Lord Miraz? You have a son." A single sigh and a nod to the stars; the Spanish accent spoke, "The heavens have blessed us." The soldier looked toward the ground. "You know your orders," He spoke again. Met with silence he looked sharply over his shoulder. "General Glozelle?" The general looked up. "Yes, my Lord." Turning on his heal he exited the dimly lit chambers and made his way toward the royal guards. He failed to see the cloaked figure that silently stepped toward the Prince's royal quarters.

Inside the sleeping prince lay unaware of the intruder. A hand slapped over his mouth and he awoke gasping, until he saw the figure in the cloak. Glasses and a white bushy beard peered down at him frantic with haste. The young prince pushed his hand away sleepily. "Five more minutes," The Spanish lilt, forcing the words together into a drowsy mush. "You won't be watching the stars tonight, my Prince," The clocked figure glanced toward the door. "Come, we must hurry," He roused him. Rolling out of bed the man dragged him to the wardrobe.

"Professor, what is going on?" The dark haired man asked. "Your aunt has given birth," The Prince's eyes widened. "To a son." They paused in front of the wardrobe as the professor opened up a secret door in the back. The Prince looked back at the door one last time before quickly climbing inside. Footsteps outside his chambers alerted him to the danger. Watching through a small crack in the door he saw armed guards surround his bed aiming at the dark curtains. At the signal of General Glozelle arrows were released into the material, tearing at his sheets and puncturing his mattress. His falcon screeched as feathers floated about the disfigured bed.

Tearing down flights of winding stairs they reached the stables and saddled a black stallion. The Prince mounted him swiftly securing his sword one last time. "You must make for the woods," His professor instructed. "The woods?"

"They won't follow you there." The professor pulled an object wrapped in cloth from his pocket and held it up to the Prince. "It has taken me many years to find this," The Prince grasped it gently and tucked it away at his side. "Do not use it except at your greatest need," The professor warned. "Will I ever see you again?" "I dearly hope so, my Prince," The horse stomped a foot and flicked its tail. "There is so much more I meant to tell you." The Prince looked down at his professor. "Everything you know is about to change."

In the distance a voice yelled. "Close the drawbridge!" and the Prince's horse once again shifted beneath him. "Now go," The professor slapped the rump of the stallion and they took off. They galloped across the dark courtyard warding off blows. "Halt!" A voice shouted. "Halt there," They raced across the drawbridge and toward the lower town as fireworks shot off into the sky above them. His horse whinnied and galloped on.

"A son! A son! Lady Prunaprismia has this night given Lord Miraz a son!" The Prince looked back one last time at his home before kicking his horse into a sprint. They fled across the city and across the outlying villages; over mountains and through creeks, bays, and rivers. The soldiers chased the young Prince as he fled for his life. As his stallion dove into a deep river and trudged across the soldiers caught up. His horse was earing the edge when they two charged into the water after him. Their smaller horses could not battle the dark waters and soon fell to the depths.

They reached the woods and flew into the darkness hurtling themselves into the unknown. The Prince shot a look over his shoulder and smirked to himself, having outrun the royal guards. As he looked back a low hanging branch smacked him across the forehead and knocked him from his ride. He landed with a grunt and his boot caught in the stir up. He reached for it as he was being dragged through the brush, his horse not even faltering. He groaned as his foot was released and the horse ran off. Breathing erratic and mind racing he lay on the ground taking in his surroundings. He was in the middle of the woods if not nowhere and had just begun to sit up when a creaking caught his eye. A light appeared and a door opened and two small men came out.

"He's seen us," One spoke gruffly. The Prince looked toward his sword but the subtle movement drew the sword of the small blonde man from its sheath. He backed away still on the ground but the attacker froze when he saw the object on the ground. A horn. The horn. The Prince saw where his eyes went as the man looked back at his companion. Horses whinnied in the distance. "Take care of him." The small man went to the soldiers. The other man hobbled over to the Prince with his sword raised. Impulsively he grabbed the horn. "No!" The Prince blew the horn and the foreign sound reverberated off the trees and echoed throughout Narnia. Cut off suddenly with a punch to the face the sound ceased but what had been done could not be undone.

His head nodded to the side and his eyes squinted in discomfort. A white bandage across his forehead was a contrasting white to his dark locks. He subconsciously touched his head and winced at the contact slowly opening his eyes and taking in his surroundings. Relics of some sort hung form the carved ceiling and he pushed himself up realizing he was in the body of a large tree. His head swam and he touched it again flinching. The house was dimly lit and he heard voices.

"This bread is so stale." A voice said. "I'll just give him some soup then, he should be coming around soon," Another voice responded. The Prince crept forward toward the sounds. "Yeah, well, I don't think I hit him hard enough," One grumbled. "Nikabrik, he's just a boy." "He's a Telmarine, not some lost puppy." The Prince peered around the corner and saw a small man sitting at a wooden table. "You said you were gonna get rid of him." "No, I said I'd take care of him." The Prince held in a gasp when he glimpsed the other voice, an animal, a badger. "We can't kill him now," The badger paused. "I just bandaged his head, it would be like murdering a guest," He stuttered. "Oh, and how do you think his friends are treating their guest?" Nikabrik inquired. "Trumpkin knew what he was doing. It's not the boys fault."

The Prince sprang forward knocking the bowl the badger was carrying out of his hands in the process. "Ah!" The Prince lunged for a sword but Nikabrik grabbed it first. A stool fell over as the Prince stumbled back grabbing a fire poker. "Stop! Stop!" The badger shouted as The Prince and Nikabrik clashed weapons. "Hold it! No, no!"

"I told you we should have killed him when we had the chance." "You know why we can't." The badger retorted. The Prince spoke up, his Mediterranean accent frantic. "If we are taking a vote, I'm with him," He gestured toward the badger. "We can't let him go. He's seen us." Nikabrik swung at the prince again.

"That's enough, Nikabrik!" He shouted. "Or do I have to sit on your head again?" The badger turned to the dark haired prince. "And you, look what you made me do." The Prince looked at the badger in bewilderment. "I spent half the morning on that soup." The badger picked up the now empty bowl and went back to the pot he had on the stove. The prince looked from one to the other. "W-What are you?" "You know, it's funny that you should ask that," The black animal chuckled to himself. "You think more people would know a badger when they saw one." The Prince shook his head. "No, no I mean," He looked at the man who eyed him wearily. "You're Narnians, you're supposed to be extinct." The Prince spoke out loud, confused. "Huh, well, sorry to disappoint you," The man gave the Prince his back and sat down in his chair again.

"Here you go, still hot." Badger set a bowl down for the Prince. "Since when did we open a boarding house for Telmarine soldiers?" Nikabrik looked at his friend. "I'm not a soldier," The man rose. "I am Prince Caspian. The tenth."

"What are you doing here?" Nikabrik asked, confused. Badger's mouth hung open. Caspian looked down. "Running away." Badger looked to Nikabrik and then both turned their attention toward the Prince. "My uncle has always wanted my throne." Caspian place the fire poker back where it belonged. "I suppose I have only lived this long because he did not have an heir of his own."

"Oh…that changes things." Badger mumbled to himself. "Yeah," Nikabrik agreed. "Means, we don't have to kill you ourselves." "You're right." Caspian stiffened suddenly and went to his armored jacket and hanging sword. "Where are you going?" Badger asked. "My uncle won't stop until I'm dead." He slung the vest over his shoulders. "But…you can't leave us." Badger called desperately. "You're meant to save us." Caspian paused and looked at the Badger.

"Don't you know what this is?" Badger reached for the horn on the table and cradled the object in his small paws.

Back in the Telmarine palace the Professor made his way to his study and personal chambers. With a few scrolls tucked under his arm he fingered the set of keys on his belt absent-mindedly. He paused when he reached his study, seeing the door ajar and hearing rattling coming form inside. He glanced to his left and saw no one before slowly entering his chambers. He pushed the door open and froze.

"You have quite a library, Doctor." Lord Miraz commented, his back to the Professor. He gulped. "Is there anything particular you seek, my lord?" He placed his scrolls on his desk. "I think I've already found what I'm looking for." The professor heard footsteps approaching him. "In one of my soldiers!" Lord Miraz stabbed a red tipped arrow into the pages of a valuable book.

The Professor eyed the arrow and slid his spectacles form his nose. The arrow was familiar. The page into which it had been embedded was a scene from old Narnia with the Kings and Queens of old. The arrow was Queen Susan's. He sent a smile up to Lord Miraz, only to be met with a scowl. Lord Miraz sat down in the chair and propped his boots up on the desk. "What do you know of Queen Susan's horn?" Miraz glared at the older man. "It was said to be magic." His eyes glittered. "Magic?"

"The Narnians believed it could summon their Kings and Queens of old." He smiled to himself. "At least, such was the superstition." Lord Miraz sprang off his chair and walked to the professor.

"And what does Caspian know of this superstition?" "My lord, you forbade me from mentioning the old tales." The Professor grinned to himself. Lord Miraz chuckled to himself, sneering down at he old man. "So I did."

Footsteps sounded from the hallway and General Glozelle entered the study, his hand on his sword; two soldiers behind him. "I will say this. If Caspian does know of the Deep Magic, my Lord would have good reason to be nervous." The guards grabbed him and hauled him off to the cells beneath the castle.

Lord Sopespian descended a spiral staircase quietly watching them drag away the old professor. He looked to his right and saw General Glozelle. "First our prince, now his tutor." General Glozelle watched the retreating soldiers. "If the member of Miraz's own house are not safe…are any of us?" A distant call sounded. "Lord Sopespian!" "Those are dangerous words Lord Sopespian." Glozelle told the man. "But these are dangerous times, general." His calculating eyes were steady. "One should choose his words as carefully as he chooses his friends." Lord Sopespian walked into the study where Miraz was staring at the image of the four rulers.

"How long until the bridge is finished?" Miraz spoke. "Construction continues on schedule." "That's not good enough." He looked up. "I need my army across that river now." "May I suggest you contribute some of your own men?" Sopespian leaned forward. "I've only so many at my disposal." "A fact you'd be wise to remember." Miraz warned. Lord Sopespian backed off.

"Go to Beruna, take as many troops as you need. We must get to Caspian before they do." Miraz commanded General Glozelle. "They, my Lord?" Sopespian probed. "It's time you learned your history." Miraz glanced down at the picture and arrow before leaving the study. Sopespian inched forward to look down at the image: four radiant stallions; carrying four gallant beings.