Orphic || Prince Caspian

eleven

Dawn  bloomed over the trees as Caspian raced onwards. Behind him, his pursuers thundered on. Still, as he rode through shadowed trees he knew that though he could not see them, his uncle's soldiers were still there. Their dark armour standing out amidst the green of the forest now that the light was turning to grey. The prince had never realised how threatening the soldiers of his kingdom looked with their dark armour and the iron faces of their masks. They had always protected him. Only now his aunt had given birth to a healthy baby boy a month before Caspian was to come of age and his uncle wanted him dead. His lungs heaved as he struggled through the foliage. Hours of riding  deeper into the woods. He was sore and achy and terrified.

He made the mistake of looking behind him for a beat too long. When he turned around it was to see a low hanging branch aiming right for him. It collided heavily with his chest and knocked the air from his lungs. His momentum was slammed to a stop. His horse cantered on as he dropped heavily to the ground with the second thud in seconds. For a second he lay winded in the Earth. It was cool against his back and the dead leaves that had survived the winter crinkled under him. His mind was spinning from the pain and adrenaline flooding his veins. Distantly he was aware that he needed to move, roll out of the way of the road before his pursuers found him. But his body ached and he was exhausted.

"Oh shit. Oh shit", a voice muttered to his left. Caspian turned and glimpsed blonde hair. A woman in her mid twenties as peering at him from behind a tree. He blinked at her, feeling his head swim.

She peered around nervously before hurrying over to him. She was dressed in a simple leather breastplate that seemed too cold for the dawning spring day. A knife hung at her waist and a bow and quiver were slung over her back. What Caspian stared at was her legs that were not human. They were goat legs furred in a blonde hair. Her hooves snapped a few twigs as she dropped to his side. "Are you Caspian?" Her voice demanded harshly. Green eyes narrowed on him.

"Yes?" It came out a wheeze. Uncertain and far too confused.

The satyr, he recognised her species from his books, scowled even further. "Shit". She had an accent different to his. "I can't leave you here". She reached for him and he shuffled back as fast as he was able, which wasn't very fast. He might have bruised a rib.

"What are you doing?"

"Come with me if you want to live", her tone was no nonsense and she grabbed his shoulders. It was surprising how strong she was as she pulled Caspian up onto his feet. He staggered, groaning with pain as he was shoved off the road and behind a tree. There was a slight slope and his boots were shaky on dry leaves as he was pushed down. It did not help that his consciousness was wavering. He was dimly aware of his body collapsing and tumbling limply down the slope and under a couple of bushes. Distantly, as his eyes started to close, he head the thundering hooves of his would be murderers riding past.

"Ah shit Wren is going to throw a fit", the satyr muttered as she began to heave him up again. Caspian had no idea what she was talking about. His eyes slid shut and he let his battle with consciousness come to an end.

—————

Caspian woke slowly. He was warm and comfortable. The aches in his chest where brushing was forming and over the rest of his body were still there but not as painful as he had expected. He was lying on a mattress. It was not feather filled as his own, instead filled with straw and hay, but the pillow was feather filled and the blankets were warm. He was dressed down to just his shirt and breeches, breastplate and boots removed and his sword gone from his hip. That realisation was what made him stir from the sweet grasp of sleep. His sword. He needed his sword.

There were people talking. Hushed voices with a slight echo. "Are you sure it's him?" A woman was whispering.

"Yes!" The female satyr who had saved him shot back, her voice slightly louder. Caspian opened his eyes and saw a stone ceiling above him. He tilted his head. A worn red curtain hung to his left, blocking the rest of what he assumed was a cave from sight. It appeared that the bed he was lying on was in a sort of alcove in a stone wall. It was warm and he half wished that he didn't have to move.

"Our wren is going to be surprised" the first female said, amusement in her tone. She didn't sound threatening, Caspian considered as he slipped from the blankets. He made sure that he made no noise as his bare feet touched the floor. It was trodden down Earth but someone had placed a rug at the base of the bed. It was old and worn but far nicer than the cold earth. He glanced around to see small personalised items cluttering the space.

The bed alcove was carved into the wall of stone. Above it were some smaller alcoves. One had a few books with creased spines. Caspian recognised a small book on narnian legends, cover faded and creased form wear. Another alcove had some folded clothes, shirts, trousers and some knitted items. The third alcove held other items, the type people collected. There were some animals carved from wood, one a bird with wings half extended. There were some scattered candles, flint and steel, matches, a dagger. Then at the side of the bed was a sword. It wasn't Caspian's, it was far simpler. He grabbed it and felt the worn leather handle.

On the other side of the curtain, more voices sounded and there was the sounds of hooves on earth floor. Hooves and one set of footsteps. "Willa! Summer! Have you heard the news?" A young male called as he entered the room. "The regent has a son. The whole village was talking about it. But the prince is missing! Do you think something happened to him?" He sounded distressed, concerned. Caspian wondered why as this man was so worried about him.

"Wren", the second male soothed. "Calm down".

"But-" the younger man protested. There was the sounds of pacing. Human boots on the floor.

Caspian steadied his grip on the sword and pulled back the curtain as he raised his blade. There was a sudden silence. There was a centaur woman with red hair spilling over her shoulders. Her russet tail flicked in surprise. By her side was the blonde satyr who had saved him. She was still in the same clothes and a male a bit older than her stood at her side. They must have been siblings. The last person, this Wren, was hidden behind the centaur. "Who are you?" Caspian stated. "What do you want with me?" He raised his stolen sword.

"Caspian?" The voice was small. The centaur stepped back and revealed a young man, no older than seventeen. He was standing still, eyes wide. Wavy brown hair was cut neatly around his cheekbones and big brown eyes gazed at him. He was wearing a dark green cloak over his brown shirt and breeches. A bow hung on one shoulder and a knife on his belt. He had grown older, body into early adulthood. He was slim and lithe like a he had spent his whole youth climbing (which he most likely had). The sight stole the breath from Caspian's lungs and the sword dropped to the floor.

"Ahren?"

Unedited

Gift before 24.