Chapter 8

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But they did have to fight again.  Only a few days later, a similar attack of Calormenes came upon them.  Once again they fought bravely, and once again the attackers retreated seemingly far too soon.  This battle also left the warriors dry and exhausted.  Under normal circumstances, men would need extra food and water to rebuild their strength, but they were running on far less sustenance than normal.  Their heads drooped more, they snapped at each other more, they collapsed on the ground and slept as often as they could (which was very different from their first few days of travel when they were conversational and alert).  Swanwhite was feeling the effects herself, but most of her attention was focused on Kismir.  He and the other horses were showing similar fatigue and it took a great deal of effort to get them moving.  It was on one of these difficult mornings that a ray of hope arrived:  Tashbaan was in sight.

At first, Swanwhite was convinced she was only seeing a mirage.  It was only a tiny speck of color amidst the sand and dull sky, but as the day wore on and the image stayed the same, she and King Rynard began to hope it was indeed their destination.  Hopes and spirits slowly lifted as they continued on and the city grew bigger.  Sighs of relief and shouts of joy could even be heard when the great palace was finally in view.  That evening, they prepared to spend one more night in the desert and reach the city the next morning.  

"Do you think the Tisroc will try to fight again?"  Swanwhite asked Goran as they sat on their bedrolls facing each other.  Goran took a sip of water from his canteen and then reclined back on his elbows.

"I don't know.  If he does indeed know we're here, he's hardly tried to wipe us out."

"That's what worries me.  In a way, these multiple smaller attacks are wearing us out more than one large battle would."  Swanwhite scanned the grey horizon as she spoke.

"I don't think many of the men have enough strength to fight again."  Goran whispered gravely.  "I fear it will not bode well for us if they try again."

Swanwhite felt a shiver at his words.  Looking around, she realized he was probably right.  The men lay still, and the watchmen were sitting down instead of standing up.  Even some of the horses lay on their sides instead of sleeping on their feet.  She swallowed hard.  "We can't survive another attack."  She said with realization.  

"Don't despair."  Goran assured her.  "We are almost to the city, and that means there is hope to negotiate peace with the Tisroc."

"I hope you're right."  She sighed.  Trying to block out the foreboding feeling she faced every night, she laid down on her bedroll and fell into an exhausted sleep.


"We're under attack!"  A voice shot through Swanwhite's sleep and jerked her awake.  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw there were indeed more Calormen soldiers invading their camp.  She jumped to her feet and grabbed the closest weapons she saw-- her sword.  She didn't have to wait long for an opponent, a raider on a fiery stallion swept towards her with his sword raised.  She blocked the blow as he thundered past her and rushed to Kismir before he turned around.  Though Kismir was tired, he obeyed his master with as must strength as Swanwhite asked from him.  She charged him forward before the attacker's horse could regroup himself and knocked the rider from his seat.  Turning around she saw mostly Calormen soldiers in the camp, and there were far more than any they had faced before.  Swanwhite's heart fell as she saw the Narnians and Archenlanders fighting for their lives with very little strength.  Her mind raced.  Should they give themselves up and surrender?  Would that save their lives?  She didn't have to think long because a bugle call broke the fighting as a Calormen in stunning purple robes and golden chains strode forward.  He was very tall and the white turban on his head made him look taller.  His beard was short and his face held a cockiness and evil that could only be owned by one person.

"Tisroc Vilan."  She said with narrowed eyes.  

"Come now, gentlemen.  Let us not continue this violence when there is need for none."  Vilan said as he dismounted his horse.  His velvet cape swept around him as he landed.

"By all means, continue."  King Rynard panted.  Vilan's men seemed to have no more interest in fighting and sheathed their weapons.  The Narnians and Archenlanders kept their weapons at the ready, though they seemed to be slowly lowering them.

"I seem to have your company outnumbered and beaten, Queen Swanwhite."  The Tisroc clasped his hands behind his back and approached her.  Swanwhite's fists clenched.

"We will fight to the death if necessary."  She snapped, sounding stronger than she felt.

"Hmmm, but will you fight to the death and leave your kingdoms at my mercy?"

"You're not strong enough to take Archenland and Narnia!"  King Rynard burst forward and shouted.  Vilan turned and glared at the king.

"And are you willing to take that chance?"  He turned his steely gaze back to Swanwhite.  "Both of you?  Because I have a proposition that may interest you."

"What can you possibly have to say that would interest us?"  Goran stepped beside Swanwhite with panting breaths, but his voice remained strong.  Vilan's stare remained on Swanwhite as he moved closer.

"I will make you an offer.  Should you accept, Archenland and Narnia will have nothing to fear from me.  Should you refuse, I continue my raid of your two kingdoms after I am finished with you."  His calm demeanor sent shivers down Swanwhite's spine, but the offer made her stop.  

"You wish to bargain with me?"  She asked cautiously, trying to ignore Goran's gaze jerking in her direction.  A slow smile spread across Vilan's lips.

"If you show enough sense and accept my offer, you will spare your people from unnecessary torture."

"We could spare them now!"  King Rynard roared and stepped threateningly towards the Tisroc.

"Stop."  Swanwhite held up her hand and bit her lip.  "Let me hear what he has to say."

Vilan chuckled slightly.  "Smart girl."  He pressed his fingers together and then turned towards the outline of Tashbaan on the dark horizon.  "As you know, you are responsible for the untimely death of my father, the inexorable Tisroc Vagdar."  

Swanwhite followed his gaze.  "Yes, but he was responsible for an untimely attack on my people.  His death was of his own making."  She tried to keep her voice steady and strong.  Vilan showed no reaction to her words.

"For many years, I have harbored a deep hatred for the people of Narnia and Archenland because of this wrongdoing.  My father was a powerful and accomplished leader, and he was stolen from me."  Vilan turned towards her with a slight fire in his eyes. 

"I am sorry you lost your father, Vilan."  Swanwhite felt a small stab of pity thinking of him growing up without a father.  It was indeed a cruel fate, but what her uncle had done was inexcusable.  

"He was my uncle, too."  She said with sadness in her voice.  "I didn't want it to come to war, but he wouldn't listen to reason.  You don't have to go down the same path he did.  We can stop this here and now."  She pleaded.  

"Nevertheless, you are in my debt."  He stepped very close to her and gazed at her with a calm expression, but fierce eyes.  "If you were to marry me," he lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers.  "I should consider your debt appeased."

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