Whisked Away

56. Everyone at Harfang

Zyanister's POV
After a brief conversation, everyone agreed to go to Harfang, but none of us, apart from those idiot children, were happy about it in the least. Neither of them believed we had really spoken to Shifra, but they were just glad we agreed to go. Our journey's after that were much harder and got worse for a few different reasons.

The first of which was that the country was much harder, not that Zyan and I minded, but the children endlessly complained. It was also much colder during the nights because we had nothing to be used for firewood. The ground was also very rocky and hard to walk on and sleep on. Those two brats had also become very snappy and talked of nothing but baths and beds.

While I love those comforts as much as anyone, I could handle our conditions for as long as we needed to to get Shifra back. Another issue was Shifra's weapons. There were twenty of them in total and they were very heavy, but because Pole refused to carry them and Eustace had the tendency to drop them, Zyan, Puddleglum, and I had to carry them all between us. Pole had suggested leaving some behind, but one look from my brother and I shut her up.

I knew as well as Zyan that these weapons were her life. They were all hundreds if not thousands of years old and had served her well over the years. I carried her sword and five of her daggers. Zyan carried her bow and quiver as well as five more of her daggers. Puddleglum held her long dagger and the remaining seven of the daggers. Each of us had put the blades, aside from the sword and longer dagger, in the packs we carried and carried the others as if they were our own weapons.

Our journey's were also growing much colder and everyone was more bitter with everyone else, but I was too preoccupied to snap at anyone. When we had rested for the night, I was sitting off my myself when Zyan sat down next to me. "So what changed?" he asked, "I mean, I'm glad, but you went from hating her and Aslan to going on a journey to save her and do a toast for Aslan."

I shifted my gaze up to the stars, noting in my head the ones Shifra had told us about. "I was angry at her for not being there when we were kids, when...when Mother died. I was mad at Aslan, Father, you even." I expected Zyan to ask why or get angry, but instead he moved to rest his arm around my shoulder comfortingly. "But when I saw you having to take over as king...I heard t-this voice, in my head."

"What did it say?" Zyan asked softly.

"Shaganoth atium angoth," I replied, "It's the language of the Cansarb people, south of Calormen. It means 'Fortitude, Magnanimity, and Perseverance'." When he said nothing, I asked, "I just knew, somehow, that it was Aslan. I may not have it all figured out, but I know, deep down that he's there."

"I'm glad," Zyan replied, a real genuine smile crossing his face. Tears of joy pricked in his eyes and he caught me in his tight embrace. "I was so tired of fighting with you."

When we had pulled apart and were staring at the stars, I asked, "Are you ready to be king?"

"No," he admitted, "I don't know what I'm doing. I...I don't know what to do. I can't do this without Father or Shifra."

"We'll get her back, no matter what these idiots say. Although I think Puddleglum feels much the same, even if he's a bit on the glum side." Realizing what I'd said I let out a barking laugh.

Slowly Zyan joined in, starting out as a mere chuckle and soon we were both laughing like idiots. "Glum," he muttered, still laughing his head off. "Puddleglum by the lion, we must be really wound tight to find this so funny." Soon the laughter stopped and we both lay down staring up at the stars and going to sleep.

The next morning I woke feeling very stiff and aching all over. My head pounded and when I tried to swallow away the saliva that was pooled in my mouth over the night, my throat ached. I slowly brought myself to my feet, shivering uncontrollably. Everyone else had already gotten up, even the two children. Zyan was standing over me looking concerned.