Outcast of Narnia

Chapter Twelve: An Unexpected Ally

Peter awoke to the sound of a dry little voice whispering, "third passage on the left, fourth room to the right. Or was it fourth passage on the right, third room to the left. Which one is it?" There was a scuffling noise under his door, then "This doesn't look like a sorcerer's workshop. Oh, it's getting late. What shall I do? Maybe I can get through here..."
Peter's lids fluttered as he tried to open his eyes. One lid seemed to be stuck shut. He moved his arm, then moaned in pain. The dry little voice stopped. Peter opened one eye slowly. Directly in his field of vision was a large mouse, sitting up on its hind legs. He tried to sit up but felt a wave of pain convulse his body. The third day after a battle is the worst, Tirngarder had always said.
He lay where he was, fixing his eye on the mouse. "Do not vanish, little friend. Speak to me again!" he hissed in as loud a whisper as he dared.
The mouse said nothing. "By Aslan, I know you are a talking mouse. I heard you! I am your high king and a Son of Adam. What do you do in this place?"
"Please," Scutterwag said, looking around nervously. "Keep quiet. Do not betray me. The life of a great lady depends upon it." Scutterwag looked down at the floor. "How do I know that you are who you say you are?"
Peter fixed him with his gaze. He whispered, "I come from another world, seeking my sister the Queen Lucy. I have been imprisoned here for three days." He drew breath and continued in a louder voice, "I require your assistance, in the name of Aslan and his father, the Emperor-over-the-sea."
"Your highness! Forgive me for not recognising you at once. I have come here with your sister, the Queen."
"Lucy? She's here!"
"Yes. Her majesty is in slightly better quarters but still, as are you, a prisoner. And she may die tomorrow if we do not save her!"
"What?" Peter pulled himself up too quickly on his wooden pallet, then doubled over, feeling as if he had on a metal vest three sizes too small. He panted, face pale.
"Tell me what is going on. Everything you know, from the beginning," he gasped through gritted teeth. "Quickly!"
Scutterwag told most of the story, leaving out any mention of the amulet. Lucy had told him to bring it directly to her, and no one else. Peter was curious. "Tell me, Scutterwag. What was it that Her Majesty desired you to do in the chambers of the Holy Prodotis?"
"Well, Your Majesty," he coughed and shuffled, looking awkwardly at the floor. "She desired me to look for some magical way of controlling the honigs."
"No more than that? By Aslan. Did she not have a more specific plan? What do these honigs look like?" asked Peter. "They are round and grey. They look like a pot of the large mushrooms we used to pick for our mothers, begging your majesty's pardon. But strong, strong as stee"—
The key in the door began to turn, and Scutterwag leaped for the shadows.
* * *
The door to Peter's cell creaked open, and a bloody bundle was tossed inside, followed by a groaning man who lay on his side, blood bubbling up thickly through a wound in his shoulder. The door slammed shut quickly. Through the dim light of torches that came through the high iron-barred window, Peter dragged himself over to the man and inspected him. The bloody bundle turned out to be a ruffled white shirt and cloak, wrapped in a jewelled belt. Peter was able to stop the bleeding by tearing strips from the shirt.
The man was unconscious but breathing shallow breaths. "I recognise this man, my Lord," said Scutterwag, emerging from the shadows. "This is one of the nobles of the court of King Gennaios. He was consorting with Her Majesty this evening."
"Scutterwag, you have more than proved yourself worthy of praise this night. May your task be successful, though I fear it but a fool's errand. No matter. You have found me, and I may be of some use. Give Her Majesty my warmest greetings, and bid her have hope. Fortunate it was for us all that you confused four to the left and three to the right with three to the right and four to the left."
Scutterwag vanished under the door.
Peter rolled the man onto his back and dribbled some water on his face and into his mouth. "Wake up, man!"
Aetos's eyes opened and he stood up quickly, putting his hand to his waist, and not finding his sword. When he saw where he was, he sat back down on one of the cots, head between his hands.
"Who art thou?" asked Peter. "And how dost thou, a noble Lord, come to be tossed in a dungeon such as this?"
"It matters not," said Aetos in despair. "All is lost. Tomorrow morning, the fairest creature I have ever seen will be fed to a vile monster, and there is nothing I can do to stop it."
"Not nothing," said Peter. "We may yet be able to help her if things go as planned."
"Nothing goes as planned," said Aetos. "Tonight I hoped to rescue her from her fate. I had drugged her guards and planned to visit her chamber in the dark of the night. But the honigs, those horrible, mindless creatures, alerted the unsaintly Prodotis and brought me down. They are stronger than they look."
"All is not lost," said Peter. "Other plans are in motion, which may yet bring a victory to us all. Make yourself at ease on yon cot, and sip some of this water to clear your head."
"And who are you to think you may fight your way out of Prodotis's dungeon?" asked Aetos. "A lad of seventeen summers, I warrant, and no match for even the lowest of the guards or lightest of the honigs."
"I fought six of the guard before they brought me here," said Peter. "They care more these days for drinking than for fighting."
"True," said Aetos. "But 'tis a miracle you were not already hanged. Prodotis must have a special purpose for you."
"I have a purpose of my own," said Peter. "And cell walls may not hold me forever. This maiden you speak of, who is she, and how did you decide to risk your life to save her?"
"A damsel of marvelous sweetness," said Aetos. "Her face is like the full moon during the midsummer festival. Her—" he broke off and looked at Peter, who was still standing.
"You appear to require some water yourself," said Aetos, who was regaining his colour. The wound in his shoulder was a surface wound, and though he was also bleeding from lashes to his back, Peter could see that he was a strong warrior and excellent swordsman.
Aetos helped Peter to sit down, gave him some water, and used part of his shirt to clean the blood that had crusted along Peter's eye.
"Who are you? You must be a foreigner."
"Yes. I have come to these lands seeking my sister Lucy, and I believe she is the very same one you sought to rescue this night."
"Lucy! Yea, it must be," said Aetos, springing up. "I am honoured to meet you, young man." He looked Peter in the eye. "Truly, royal blood must run in your veins." He bowed as deeply as he could while favouring his shoulder.
"Tell me about these honigs," said Peter. I think that they may be the key to overthrowing Prodotis. "Where did they come from, and what is their connection to this place?"
"It's not a long story," said Aetos. "And they are not bad sorts. Wonderful acrobats and good humoured, mostly. Unless you try to get them to do something against what Prodotis has already told them."
Peter laid back and listened, tracing his fingers over his pockets from the outside. He could feel the green and yellow Rings. Aslan alone knew why the guards had not taken them when they stole his sword. He could use them to leave the cell any time, but that wouldn't do him any good. He didn't want to go back to the Wood just yet. If he couldn't manage to get out of the cell by morning, the sun might as well not rise at all, for him, and for Aetos too, it seemed.