8Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. Since my priority is the ongoing story of "Raising a Nin-Wizard" I sometimes have to put this one on the back burner for a short time; though I will try to keep that to a minimum. If all goes well, the fourth and final chapter of this installment will be posted on Friday.
Year 3 of New Spring
There was a commotion at the front gate. Both Peter and Edmund, having been visiting the kennels nearby, ran over to see what it was about. Edmund kept one hand on his sword, just in case, and noticed that Peter did as well. It had become habit for both kings to wear their swords even within the safety of Cair Paravel – there were simply too many opportunistic Fell still alive and roaming Narnia to do otherwise.1
At the gate it appeared that two of the guards were restraining a Man, while others kept their spears leveled at him. Except there was something... off. The way he held himself, the tilt of his head, it was all distinctly canine.
"Werewolf," Peter snarled, drawing Rhindon and half-stepping in front of Edmund. The younger king allowed this and kept his eyes sharp on their surroundings; there was rarely ever just one Fell.
Oreius cantered up at about the same time Peter reached the perimeter of guards. "What is going on here?" the Centaur demanded.
"General, my Kings," one of the guards, a grizzled Satyr said. "We apprehended this Werewolf coming to the front gate, he was not attacking so we spared his life for now."
"Was he alone, Captain?"
"So far, sir. I've sent a group of scouts to check the surrounding area, but nothing has been reported yet."
"I came alone," said the Werewolf. His voice was low, but held none of the guttural tones Edmund was used to hearing in the middle of battle.
"Speak only when spoken to," snapped a Leopard who rested her paws on the prisoner's shoulders, claws out, and kept her teeth near the back of his neck.
Peter held up a hand in a gesture that was more taking command of the situation than asking permission to speak. After three years in Narnia, the seventeen year old wore his royalty like a well tailored cape. "What is your purpose here, Werewolf?"
Though already on his knees, the Werewolf looked like he might have dropped fully to the ground had he not been held in place by his arms; the Apes on either side were not giving him any room for movement. "High King, Alpha of Alphas, second only to Aslan, Highest over All, have mercy on your servants who are in bondage. I am Ulric, former Beta of the Ghost Clan in the Shuddering Woods, no doubt I have been cast out by coming here. The Alpha of the Ghost Clan is loyal only to the White Witch, and seeks to avenge her, at great cost to the clan. We have all suffered under his leadership. Myself, and many others, have decided to swear ourselves to a new Alpha under the Four Sovereigns, and live as peaceful Narnians."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Why have you come here?"
"For the sake of my clan, and the members who would wish to live in peace. A group of Werewolves would never be looked on with anything but hostility, so I came alone to beg Your Majesty to grant them safe harbor within your kingdom," said Ulric.
"And yourself?" Edmund asked, not missing the pronoun used.
The Werewolf bowed his head even lower. "The Alpha, Conri the Ferocious, is my half-brother. Our sire, Athaulf, was little more than a beast, taking many mates and forcing his offspring to compete for the right to live and for favor. Of the Ghost Clan, I alone have a chance at removing Alpha Conri from power, but I will not risk the clan on a gamble. I have already told those loyal to me to escape during the Challenge Fight; if I win then I will find them, if I loose then they will be safe under the protection of their new Alpha, High King Peter."
"You swear yourself to Us?" Peter asked.
"I swear myself to High King Peter as my Alpha and his royal siblings under him."
"You swear yourself to Aslan?"
"I swear myself to Aslan as my High Alpha."
Peter nodded and sheathed his sword. Edmund frowned, but followed suit. "Release this Werewolf. He is a Free Narnian, and a guest in this castle."
Murmurs of surprise and unease flowed through the courtyard like a wave. The guards obeyed with obvious reluctance. Edmund hissed, "Have you completely lost your head, Peter?"
But the High King stood tall. Addressing the restless crowd, and the stunned speechless Werewolf, he said, "There are many things that a spy will do in order to gain the trust of their target, but there are somethings that cannot be faked. Despite his pride, Beta Ulric lowered himself before Us, allowing capture, humiliation, and interrogation with no thought to his own survival. And not once, but twice did he acknowledge Aslan as King of Narnia, and also swore himself to Him."
Then he turned to one of the page boys standing off to the side, "Inform Housekeeper of what has happened, and make sure she sees to it that Ulric receives a bed, food, and amenities for the night."
To Oreius he said, "General, I would have you put together a small company to go with myself and Ulric back to his clan. I would like to leave with the first light. You yourself will stay here to watch over my siblings."
"Now see here," Edmund cut in. "I'm not letting you go gallivanting off on your own. I will accompany you, or you will not go at all." He set himself into a stance that made it quite clear he was willing to fight if the High King disagreed. At a few months shy of fourteen, he was still scrawny and short, but both he and Peter knew that it only made him more lethal when he broke out the 'dirty' fighting moves.
Thankfully, Peter deferred. "Very well." He turned to another page, "Make sure Cook is informed so that provisions are made, and have Ruby saddled and ready for me in the morn."
Ruby was one of Peter's two warhorses.2 While Diamond was a powerful stallion, perfect for leading a cavalry charge, Ruby was an agile mare, swift and viscous in a close-quarters fight. Considering they were headed into the Shuddering Woods, she was the obvious choice.
"You… you are coming to my clan, Your Majesty?" Ulric asked.
"Of course," Peter said, "We shall witness your ascent to Alpha with Our own eyes, and impart Our blessing onto you and your kin."
The day had dawned bright and clear, the perfect conditions for everything to go horribly wrong. Perhaps Edmund was just being a pessimist, but he couldn't stop thinking about all the different ways they could be ambushed if anyone let their guard down due to how nice the day was.
Oreius must have been of a like mind, because their company was just shy of an army: two Bears, five Great Cats, eight Dwarf archer-and-swordmen all mounted on warponies,3 four Dryad archers of which two doubled as healers, ten Satyr pike-men, two Eagles, an armored Boar, and a Unicorn. Add to that two Kings and a Werewolf, and the company of 36 were swiftly making their way through Narnia. It would take a full day of travel, plus some hours the next day, to reach their destination, and Edmund was very apprehensive about camping out a stone's throw from a known Fell haunt.
They had been working tirelessly to rid the Fell from Narnia. Campaign after campaign slowly whittled their numbers and pushed them back. Now it was mostly the northern and western most parts of Narnia that were still dangerous, but the deepest forests still held a great number of enemies in hiding. Shuddering Wood, once called Singing Wood,4 was so named for the large concentration of Fell who lived there even now, and the Narnian army had been having trouble penetrating the thick forest due to the great number of Fell Trees who guarded it.
It was nearly sundown when Peter called for the company to halt and begin setting up camp for the night. There had been no trouble on the road, and they had made such good time that the edge of Shuddering Wood was within sight. Edmund figured that this would be the perfect time for an ambush, and he kept a hand on his sword in preparation. Unfortunately, just because he knew it was coming, didn't mean he knew when, where, or who the target would be.
The shout of "Ambush!" followed almost instantly by a cry of pain that rang distinctly human sent a flash of ice through Edmund's veins. He was running with his sword drawn almost before he consciously realized he needed to get to Peter's side. It only took a few seconds to arrive at the site, just in time to see a mottled gray wolf – who wasn't just a wolf – fall to a hail of arrows. A second foe lay some yards away, caught half-way between the form of a man and a wolf, Rhindon still sticking out of his heart. And beside the Fell, being fussed over by one of the healers, was the High King.
"Peter!" Edmund shouted, racing to his brother's side. He felt his heart stutter at the sight of blood – so much blood – pouring from four slashes down the right side of his face. The blood on the dead Werewolf's claws left no doubt as to what caused such an injury.
"I'm alright, Ed," Peter said with a tight smile. "It's not as bad as it looks, he didn't even catch my eye."
"Barely," the healer muttered. "The lid even got scratched a little, only Aslan's Grace protected against farther damage."
A whimper drew Edmund's attention to the side. Ulric was face down in the dirt in a clearly submissive position. "My fault… it's all my fault. Lyall was after me. It's all my fault."
"Nonsense," Peter said. "I underestimated the reach of his arm is all."
"You were defending me," Ulric countered. "If you had raised your shield fully, instead of giving half to my protection, you would not have been caught by his claws. You should not have jumped in; I could have fought him off."
Peter frowned, then winced as it pulled on the damaged skin. "Ulric, look at me." He waited until the Werewolf lifted his head the smallest amount to allow eye contact. "As High King it is my duty to defend my people, of which you are a member. I would be very remiss if I did not come to your aid, especially since the attack was aimed at you. Perhaps you would have won the battle, but it would have been at injury to yourself, which would put you at a disadvantage in tomorrow's fight. I will not allow you and your clan to suffer any more under the leadership of Conri the Ferocious, which means ensuring that he is no longer Alpha by day's end tomorrow. If I must take injury to myself to do so, then it is a small price to pay."
Ulric whined and crawled on his belly until he was close enough to nuzzle Peter's leg, an action provoked by the love and awe he was feeling for the High King. Edmund understood the sentiment, as did Peter who placed a tender hand on the top of the Werewolf's head. The younger king turned away to give the tender moment the privacy it deserved, and instead focused on cleaning Rhindon for Peter. He also ordered that the bodies of the Fell be placed on the edge of camp until he, Peter, and Ulric could come to a decision about their disposal.
When he turned back to the pair, Ulric was sitting up and the right side of Peter's face was completely swathed in bandages. Peter took Rhindon with a grateful nod, and laid it across his lap.
"You knew those two?" Edmund asked Ulric.
He nodded. "Lyall and Lycus, litter-mates born in the same year as Conri. They are… were fiercely loyal to him; they would not have accepted me as their new Alpha, and would have been punished for it. Conri must have sent them after me, and they likely decided that it was worth dying if it meant I was too injured to fight my brother." While his tone was flat as one stating absolute fact, Edmund could see the grief in the corners of his eyes. In the end, the pair were still a part of his clan even if they wanted him dead. Speaking of which…
"Pretty poor sport for Conri to rig the fight in his favor like that," Edmund said.
Ulric shook his head. "If I were still a member of the clan, then yes it would be. However, it is likely that Conri has cast me out of the clan, making me an Outsider. As such they are merely defending their territory from an encroaching stranger."
Peter frowned. "What does this mean for the Challenge Fight?"
"Not much," Ulric said. "The rules of combat remain the same, as does outside help being forbidden. The only difference is that a Challenge Fight between clan members is fought to submission, while a Challenge Fight between Alpha and Outsider is fought to the death."
"That isn't 'not much'," Edmund pointed out.
The grief was back in Ulrics eyes. "It does not matter. Under Conri's leadership, any who oppose him are killed for their insubordination; and he would never surrender, even to his dying breath. This Fight would have been to the death whether I was a clan member or not."
They arrived at their destination an hour before high noon. A large clearing made by a fallen tree, the log and stump of which were still only half-rotten, was bordered on the far side by several Werewolves in various states of transformation.
One in man-form, whose face vaguely resembled Ulric's, stood in front of the rest. "So a coward has come into our territory with a meager peace offering of sacrificial pawns," he called out.
"I have come with those who will bear witness to our Challenge Fight, Brother," Ulric responded.
The other snarled and growled. "You are no brother of mine, Outsider."
Ulric did not waver. "Then let it be known that I, Ulric Without Clan, do hereby issue Challenge to Conri the Ferocious, Alpha of the Ghost Clan."
"Ulric!" a feminine voice cried. A young woman with matted hair was moving towards them from behind the line of Werewolves. However, as she got close, Conri lashed out his clawed hand. Blood spurted from a wound to her face, and she cried out in pain, instantly crumpling to a submissive huddle at Conri's feet. Ulric growled low in his throat.
"You dare..." the Alpha growled so all could hear. "You dare to call out to an Outsider with such familiarity in the presence of your mate, Bitch?"5
The woman's form was shivering, and her voice was so soft that Edmund was unable to hear her words of reply. Whatever she said got her a brutal kick to the ribs, and Ulric flinched a little. Conri then turned back to the Free Narnians, ignoring the shivering form that remained curled up beside him.
"You will have your Fight, Outsider, but a Challenge is a clan matter. Your hangers-on have no business here," Conri said.
"I have business here!" Peter declared. Shocked eyes of the Werewolves turned his way. "I am High King Peter of Narnia, Alpha over Ulric and any who would have him as their Alpha. Know this, Conri the Ferocious, your days of tyranny are at their end. If in this Fight Ulric is unable to throw off your shackles, then I will issue Challenge to you in his stead. In the Name of Aslan, ere day's end you shall draw your last breath!"
Conri threw back his head in a blood-curdling scream that descended into a howl. It was a war-cry, filled with blood-lust, and it made the hairs on the back of Edmund's neck stand straight up. He marched forward with dominating strides, and Ulric walked out to meet him. Werewolves, all in wolf-form, poured out of the forest to encircle the pair in a wide radius. Edmund could see why they were named the 'Ghost' Clan: every coat of fur was on the spectrum between white and black, leaning heavily on the lighter side.
When Conri and Ulric reached the center of the clearing, and a ring of fifteen Werewolves settled into stances around them, they both raised their heads in twin howls. Their voices clashed in a preface to the greater battle to come. Then… the Fight was on.
It was chaos incarnate. Both fighters swapped between man and wolf and man-wolf and wolf-man at blinding speeds. They grappled, swiped, bit, clawed, punched, kicked, pounced, and dodged. Fur flew, grass was trampled, and dust rose. Soon the cloud around the pair was so thick that only vague shadows could be seen.
Then a scream-like yelp, and the scent of blood so thick even the Sons of Adam could smell it. The ring of Werewolves raised their heads and howled. Slowly the dust settled.
The scene revealed was gory. A white wolf with gray face and legs that faded to black at the points6 lay dead in the clearing, his throat ripped out. Standing over him, like the spirit whose name the clan shared, was a pure white wolf, muzzle and fangs dripping crimson.
Hackles raised, lips curled back in a snarl, the Werewolf addressed the spectators, "I, Ulric Without Clan, claim the victory and the title of Alpha of the Ghost Clan! Let any who disagree issue me Challenge here and now."
Fourteen wolves dropped to the ground in submission. The fifteenth growled and lunged. He never reached Ulric as an arrow felled him halfway.
The dwarf who fired the arrow merely said, "I heard no issue of Challenge, so I acted as I would toward any other form of aggression against one whom the High King has given his protection to."
Ulric, still as a wolf, relaxed then. He sat down and let out a long howl, his clan members joining their voices with his. Then a white wolf with a black streak down the center-line of her back ran to him; she nuzzled him, and licked his wounds and face. She only stopped when Ulric stood and shifted into the form of a man, much more battered than before. Shifting herself as well revealed that she was none other than the woman whom Conri abused earlier.
The new Alpha took her hand and led her to where the two kings were waiting. "High King Peter, King Edmund, may I present Ylva. From this day forward she will be my mate and Alpha Female of the Ghost Clan." Both kings greeted her warmly and bowed over her hand, causing her to blush.
A light gray yearling ran up and yipped happily around Ulric's legs. The man laughed and said, "You should be polite around the Kings of Narnia."
The young Werewolf paused and then shifted into a boy of about Edmund's age. He gazed at the kings through a mop of unruly hair. He bowed, somewhat clumsily, and then half-hid himself behind Ulric.
"This is my youngest brother, Faolan," Ulric introduced. "Thankfully he and his sister were born less than a week before Conri issued Challenge to our sire, or he might have been killed for being too small like his dam's previous litter. As Alpha I will do away with the tradition of killing small whelps among other actions that make us even less than dumb beasts."
Peter smiled and clapped Ulric on the shoulder. "You will make a fine Alpha as long as your first loyalty is always Aslan. Do not fear asking for my help or counsel, I will always be willing to give it. We do hereby recognize the Ghost Clan as Free Narnians under Us."
"Thanks to Alpha Ulric and the Ghost Clan, the Shuddering Wood was cleared of Fell by the end of the year. They went on to inspire many other Fell to repent and swear their loyalties to us Four and Aslan. Ulric and Ylva ended up having four pups: Petran, Suzilva, Edmoull, and Lussan. Obviously they were all named after us, although Ulric asked special permission from Lucy since Lussan was a boy. She was pleased as punch about it," Edmund finished with a chuckle.
Caspian opened and closed his mouth for a few minutes, trying to fathom the story. "The High King doesn't have any scars though," he said eventually.
Edmund shrugged. "Side effect of returning to England is our scars faded into almost nonexistence; you have to know what you're looking for and where to find it in order to see them."7
"He did not hesitate to kill the Werewolf here," Caspian pointed out. While it had been too dark to see during the actual fight, the Fell Creature had obviously died of a stab wound – and neither Caspian nor Edmund had blood on their blades.
"No, because he was Fell," Edmund said. "Peter never hesitates against Fell, no matter the species. And Ulric wouldn't have wanted him to, not when he killed several Fell Werewolves himself in defense of Peter over the decades of their friendship. To the two of them, a person was defined by their allegiance, not by their parentage."
Caspian nodded, then asked, "You had also mentioned Lucy had quite the story as well?"
"Of course, better settle in for this one."
Ending Notes:
About the names:
Ulric means "wolf power"
Conri means "king wolf"
Athaulf means "father wolf"
Lyall and Lycus both mean "wolf"
Ylva means "she-wolf"
Faolan means "little wolf"
I thought it was an appropriate naming scheme; most are based in the languages of Norse and Gaelic, though Latin, Old English, and Germanic are thrown in for flavor.
1. I highly doubt that all of the Fell Creatures a) died in the Battle of Beruna, or b) fled out of Narnia's boarders after the Witch's death. To me it makes more sense that a lot of them continued plaguing Narnia for the next few years until the Four were able to drive them all out.
2. While HHB affirms that Talking Horses were used for mounted battle in times of war, I can't see any Horse just allowing themselves to be "on call" for whenever Peter goes to battle the Fell. Besides, this was supposed to be a journey without confrontation, the battle-readiness was just a precaution. So, no. No Talking Horses being ridden today. The same argument goes for Edmund - Phillip from the movie will not be making an appearance at all unless a later installment is focused on an actual War (and even then he may or may not show up).
3. With how many Narnians are of different heights than humans it's only common sense that there would be accommodations. I see no problem with ponies being trained for war the same way horses are trained for war. Also, if I'm not mistaken, some parts of our world did use ponies in warfare because they were heartier than horses in certain terrains.
4. Names are given for a reason; none of the place names in Narnia are ever explained outright, but some give out clues (River Shribble is small, Lantern Waste has the lamppost, Western Woods is to the west, etc.). However, there is never a real reason given for why it's called "Shuddering" Wood. There are so many negative connotations with the word "shuddering" that I decided to give the place some backstory based around that; Singing Wood is a name I made up for that backstory.
5. I use this term in the original usage. "Bitch" refers to a female dog or wolf (or, oddly enough, fox or otter). It is typically used to refer to one that is still capable of breeding (aka not fixed), but is not necessarily that specific. Side note: my aunt breeds dogs, so I grew up knowing the proper use of the word; imagine my surprise when I learned that most people used it in a derogatory manner against women.
6. The "points" I refer to are the paws, muzzle, and ears. Technically the tail is also a point, but this one specifically is not colored. When an animal (typically dog, cat, rabbit, sheep, or horse) is referred to as "pointed" that means that the feet, face, ears, and tail are all a darker color than the rest of the body. For example, a the Siamese is a cat breed recognized for their point coloration.
7. This is my compromise. I desperately want the Four to have something tangible when they return to England (namely their scars), but I admit that having a Medieval lifetime worth of scars overnight would cause many, many uncomfortable inquiries. Hence the "faded to oblivion"/"only see what you're looking for" option.
