Mist and Mystery at Calormen's Grove

Calormen's Grove

20. Calormen's Grove

Firtkin led the five sovereigns down the stone steps towards an underground grove in the middle of the small forest. The five of them were tied together by a single rope and guarded heavily by the Calormene archers that waited at ground level to assure no one escaped.

The dark-dwarf glanced behind him as he stopped at the bottom of the steps. "May I introduce the tisroc... may he live forever."

The Pevensies and Caspian looked ahead into the grove. The trees below grew into the sandy roofs above approximately fifteen meters high. All around the room candles were lit along the walls to illuminate the haunting place. Also standing along the walls, were dark-dressed warriors with scimitars in their ready hands. At the very heart of the grove there was no vegetation but there stood a mighty stone table the size of a large bed. Blackened flowers grew along its base like the kiss of death.

Though it was a spectacular scene in its underground setting, something indescribable lingered in the air and touched their hearts. Near to the steps that led down to the sacred area, stood two men in close proximity. One had dark, tanned skin, a greying beard and a strong posture. It was this man that now stepped forward to greet his 'guests'.

"Welcome!" Goraidh spoke with barely concealed glee. Atop his dark hair rested a bright turban and around his arm a band of gold to signify his power. The elder man turned to the Pevensies and bowed his head. "... Welcome back, I suppose is a more befitting choice of words for the Kings and Queens of old." The tisroc stepped closer to Susan and his dark eyes sparkled in the warm glow of the candles. "For some of you, it could even have been called a home once, though the place was found wanting."

"It was the people I could not live with," the eldest queen breathed and her voice quivered with barely concealed anger.

"Ah... Yes, Rabadash the Peacemaker," Goraidh hummed. "Or as we prefer to refer to my ancestor: The Ridiculous. A coward and a disgrace as our leader. A true donkey, indeed."

"I see some things haven't changed then," Caspian muttered. The word had but died on his tongue when the tisroc slapped the king harshly with the back of his hand. The queens gasped at the unexpected gesture and the Telmarine man stumbled but recovered his footing quickly. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he glared down at the shorter assailant.

The tisroc's glare seemed to burn a hole in the Narnian king as he growled, "Barbarians..."

"I remember you," Peter hissed and stepped forward. He'd felt the tension rise and wanted to draw attention away from his friend and back to the matter at hand. "You led the attack on Narnia. You took my brother away. Where is he?"

The voice that replied did not belong to Goraidh. The slithering, hoarse tone instead belonged to the Sorcerer who spoke without stepping forward, "Hidden in plain sight."

The small group of royalty felt their blood chill as they turned their attention to the entity further away. The imposing man wore a long, flowing cape over dark, embroidered clothes. The fist-sized pearl at the top of his scepter seemed to shine like moonlight in the glow of the candles. A thin smirk lingered on his face, while his eyes remained impassive and unimpressed.

"Show him to us!" Lucy bravely commanded on her brother's right.

The Sorcerer smirked in mocking amusement and bowed low before the regents. His long cape flowed in the air around his legs as he turned towards the stone table. The man raised his scepter high into the sky and as he did, Edmund appeared upon the table in a transparent shimmer. The dark-haired boy remained still and his pale skin stood in stark contrast to the darker surface of the stone.