The Regents : the Forgotten Chronicle [COMPLETED]

Chapter Sixteen: The Arrow and the Blade

By the time we arrived at Gimletbuffin's hollow to fetch his club, the sun had gone and so had our energy. As passionate as we were about saving Narnia, we were exhausted by the day's turmoil as well as our lack of sleep from the previous night. Early the next morning, Gimletbuffin treated us to a scant breakfast (including the roots and berries the Connelly brothers had foraged the previous evening) over which we discussed our rescue plan. Then he led the way once more, expertly wending through the woods despite the sparse lighting. With no hesitation, our giant and his club burst from the trees in sight of all the Telmarines and Calormenes camped in front of Cair Paravel. When the frightened guards had gathered their wits, we requested a conference with Caspian or whoever was in charge of the castle. . . .

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The skittish soldiers formed a semi-circle a safe distance from Gimletbuffin and the regents now in front of the bridge connecting Cair Paravel to the mainland. The soldiers guarding the broken castle gates parted for Caspian and his honor guard. Their march toward the vengeful regents ended two paces from the mainland. "I didn't think you'd return so early," Caspian said with a guilty undertone.

"Or at all," Brennan growled and stepped forward, but Eliza stayed him with a hand on his forearm.

Reese spoke, initiating their plan. "We've come to set our champion against yours in a duel for the ownership of Cair Paravel and Narnia itself."

The broad, muscular man blinked in surprise, then tapped the pommel of his sword thoughtfully. Eliza pursed her lips, hoping this Telmarine king was as willing to duel as Miraz had been in "Prince Caspian." Lydia suspected that Caspian was making them wait just because he could. Suddenly, the king scoffed. "You are pathetic. What is to stop my men," he gestured over his shoulder at the archers lining the castle walls, "from shooting you where you stand?"

Smoothly, Reese countered, "What's to stop our giant from destroying the bridge and leaving you all stranded?"

For the first time in the conference, Caspian's controlled facade gave way to fear, and the king's frightened eyes darted to Gimletbuffin's head several stories above them. "I see," Caspian said. He adjusted his cloak on his shoulders as if re-applying his tough persona. "Agreed," the king declared imperiously, attempting to gain control of the situation. "Wait while I prepare." He spun on his heel, and his honor guard created an aisle for him.

Brennan stepped forward. "What about our weapons?" he demanded.

Caspian halted and half-turned back. "Weapons?" He raised a suspicious brow at the request for multiple weapons.

"He means, my lord," Reese quickly interjected, "the weapon with which our champion will fight."

His fear assuaged, Caspian sniffed disdainfully. "Get one from the soldiers." He loftily waved them off before picking his way over the broken boards piled across the gate threshold.

As the day grew warmer, so did Brennan while he practiced lunges and parries with an abandoned sword he'd found. Although Reese wanted weapons for himself and the Dowlands, he knew he shouldn't risk agitating the jittery soldiers any further by preparing for a battle. After Brennan's warm-ups had devolved into impatient swings and pacings, the Telmarine king finally reappeared, escorted by his honor guard once more. To the surprise of the regents, Caspian was unchanged despite his preparation time. None of the regents liked the cockiness oozing from Caspian's smile.

"Where is your armor?" Reese asked with veiled suspicion.

"It is not for me to wear armor," the king replied. At a monosyllabic command in Telmarine, someone in the midst of the honor guard stepped forward. Someone wearing armor and carrying a well-polished sword.

Fabrian.

Lydia gasped, then turned away her livid eyes from the one who had used her. She never saw the unreadable glance he sent her way. Brennan saw it, however, and was none too pleased. 

Caspian smiled. "You did ask for our champion," he taunted. 

"Yes," Reese growled grudgingly, "we did." With a chin jut from him, he and the Dowlands retreated to Gimletbuffin, keeping his feet between them and the enemy soldiers at the circle's edge. Brennan shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck as he neared his opponent. Fabrian tried unsuccessfully to crack his own neck, all the while carefully studying Brennan like a cat studying an intruding feline.