A/N: Well, here's my first stab at writing something action oriented. This story was inspired by Lucy riding to war with Edmund in The Horse and His Boy--I always wondered how she earned that. It comes from the fact that there are very few stories in the Narnia fanfic world where the girls get any of the action. Comments, questions, and suggestions are solicited.
The courtyard of Cair Paravel was full of the bustle and clanging of the troops preparing to depart. It was a somber scene looking into all those faces grim with preparation, and Lucy could see why Susan was getting choked up. She wasn't going to cry, though. She set her jaw. She was going to do something.
"Stay with me, Lucy," Susan said, putting an arm around her younger sister's shoulders. "Stay with me until they ride off."
Lucy sighed. She couldn't leave her sister alone like that, but she needed to go. She had a horse to get ready and she had to check if her horse was ready. She made her resolution quickly. She would stay with Susan, and then run off as soon as she could. Edmund had been teaching her tracking, and she figured it would be easy enough to follow the noisy and obvious trail of an army.
They stood at the top of the steps and watched Peter move among the troops. He was dressed in travel clothes, not armor, but he wore his crown and carried his sword and shield. His horse was at the front of the column with that of the standard bearer beside it. The wind picked up and spread out the flag of Narnia, a glittering gold lion on a deep crimson background. When Susan saw this, she began to cry. Lucy touched her arm.
"I worry so much about him riding off alone. He doesn't even have Edmund with him this time. He watches over all of Narnia, but who will watch over Peter?" she said, trying to compose herself a little and failing.
Lucy only held her sister's hand. She didn't say anything for fear of revealing the plan Susan would surely disapprove of. The truth was Susan was absolutely right: Peter needed someone to watch out for him. If he was going to be stubborn and not let Lucy use her cordial to heal Edmund, then she would make sure someone went. She would make sure Peter was okay.
In the moments where she turned her attention to Susan, Peter had found his way to them. "Don't cry, Su," he said, embracing her.
She cried into his shoulder. "Can't you send a sortie? Can't you stay behind this once?" she begged.
He pulled away a little. "No," he said gravely. "You know that we must all do our duties for Narnia. This is mine. I must ride out with them."
"But you'll be all alone!" Susan protested with a very unladylike but very sincere sniff.
"Alone! I have an entire battalion with me and General Oreius, who has proven more than once he would rather disobey orders and lay down his life for me than let me come to harm. It's a small skirmish, the very last of the Witch's army. I'll be fine, Susan."
She pressed her lips together and said nothing further. Both girls knew that patient resolution in Peter's voice. His mind was made up, and he was now immoveable. Lucy had already known this; she had known it since Peter forbade her from helping Edmund heal from his injury with the cordial. "He'll be fine on his own," he had said. "We don't want to waste that." When he had left the room, Edmund had observed "I think he's secretly glad I'm hurt so I can't go with him this time. Blast him! I bet he sabotaged me," and Lucy had agreed wholeheartedly, saving the bit about sabotage.
Peter hugged Susan once more and kissed her on the cheek. "Cheer up, Su. I'll be home before you know it."
Then he embraced Lucy. "Be a comfort to Susan," he charged her quietly. "Don't let her worry too much. Let her plan one of her grand parties for when I get back. That should distract her a bit. Okay?" He drew back a little, but kept his hands on her shoulders. Lucy nodded. "I'll miss you, Lucy. Take care of yourself."
The trumpets sounded, and Peter turned around. "We're ready. Say goodbye to Edmund for me. I'll see you soon," he said.
He was at the bottom of the steps before Susan found her voice to sing. She always sang him goodbye, always the same song, a beautiful tune that was not Narnian but one that Lucy could never quite place. She sang clearly and poignantly, and Peter half turned to her and picked up the chorus. He smiled as he sang, and as he made his way to his horse he looked back at them frequently. It was all Susan could do to keep singing, and Lucy understood. She wanted to cry herself as she heard them singing to each other "I know we'll meet again some sunny day." She wondered sometimes if Peter knew how dear he was to them. She watched his broad shoulders, the muscles stretching his shirt as he moved with powerful grace, his golden hair matching the glittering crown on his head, and she saw the boy who she had known all her life, who had sneezing fits if he ate too much pepper. She clenched her fists at her side and vowed that she would not let him come to harm.
Peter mounted his horse and drew his sword. The trumpets blared and the troops cried out throatily. Lucy blinked at all the armor shining in the sunlight. Then with a lurch the column started, and Peter led them out the castle gate. By this time Susan was crying in earnest, the way she cried with silent tears that threatened to choke her. Before the column was entirely out of sight, Mrs. Beaver came to distract Susan, and Lucy took advantage of the moment to dash to the stables. She couldn't bear the waiting anymore; she had to do something.
Edmund was waiting, leaning on a cane. Lucy winced to see him standing like an old man because of the pain in his side. She wanted to help him with the cordial, but she didn't have the heart to directly disobey Peter. She promised herself she would learn other ways to heal people without having to resort to the potion.
"Is everything all ready?" she asked him.
He nodded. "Set to go. Only the armor isn't packed—I wanted to make sure you knew how to put it on."
Lucy frowned. This was very serious. "Do I really need it?"
"Are you mad? I do stupid things sometimes, but even I wouldn't be as foolish as to ride into battle with no armor! You'd be run through in half a minute!" He shuddered at the thought, but he shook it off. "Good thing I thought to bring these as well," he added, tossing a pile of fabric at her.
"What is it?" Lucy asked.
Edmund rolled his eyes. "A tunic and breeches. Did you think you were going to fight in a dress? I swear, girls are so impractical."
Lucy was too intrigued by the costume change to retort. She slipped into an empty stall and swapped clothes. When she came out, she handed Edmund her balled-up dress.
He nodded approval. "Now the armor."
At first she was all at odds. There were so many pieces and buckles and straps she didn't know what to do. But Edmund, though he made fun of her, was a good teacher, and soon she was able to do everything herself. "This armor is good luck," he said as he checked to make sure everything was correctly buckled. "I wore it at Beruna."
Lucy looked down at the gleaming armor and smiled.
Edmund gave her some final instructions. "Don't use the sword—you wouldn't know what to do with it. Wear the shield on your back while you're using the bow. There's two quiverfuls of arrows and extra strings. Try not to get in the thick of things, but if you do, use your dagger and remember what I taught you about blocking with the shield so you don't get your wrist broken. Above all, don't let Peter see you."
"I won't," she promised. "Did you pack the cordial?"
"It's in the saddle bag. Hopefully you won't need it. You'll see—Peter is charmed in battle; he hardly ever gets seriously wounded. He's so heedless of himself, though, I know it's going to happen sooner or later. I'm glad you're going."
Lucy got up on the horse. "Don't tell Susan I've gone."
"Don't worry. I'll play ill and let her mother me like she always wants to. That should keep her distracted enough." He grimaced, then looked up at her with bright eyes. "Good luck, Lu," he said "The Lion be with you."
She started to feel so excited she couldn't breathe or speak. She looked at Edmund; he gave the horse's flank a slap and they were gone. As she reached the gate she looked back over her shoulder and saw that he hadn't gone inside but was watching him. She raised her hand to wave, and he waved back. Then she galloped off.
The road following the army was easy but lonely. They had to take the obvious roads because there were so many, and Lucy had no problems following the tracks. It had been easy, just as Edmund said. Only there was no one to talk to. Many times when she was curling up by herself under a blanket in the lonely woods she wished she was back at Cair Paravel, helping Susan take care of Edmund and walking with Mr. Tumnus. But then she forced herself to think of Peter, who probably felt alone in the midst of an army, who needed her help, and she resolved to go on. She did not even let herself think how stiff she was when she got up in the morning, or how sore she was from riding all day.
She awoke on the third morning and remembered that Peter had said they expected to run into the enemies after three days. She put on her brother's armor, all the buckles and belts and straps, and she rode on. Late in the morning she heard the noise of battle. It was an awful roar at first, but as she drew closer she could distinguish the separate sounds: the blaring of horns, the fearsome growls of the enemy, the battle cries of the Narnians raised up in loud voices, and the harsh crashing of metal against metal as the two armies fought it out. Worst of all were the screams and cries of pain.
As Lucy urged her horse onward she thought that nothing could be worse than hearing those screams, but when she came to the crest of the ridge she saw that she was horribly wrong. There was blood everywhere. Every Narnian to the last man was engaged in a fight for his life. She saw a dwarf go down, then a faun got knocked across the face with the butt of a spear. She thought he looked like Tumnus, and she shuddered. Someone was friends with that faun. Someone was waiting for him to come back. Now who knows if he would?
She was about to rush forward with her cordial when she caught sight of Peter. He was in the middle of everything, slashing and stabbing desperately with his sword. There were enemies all around him, and more seemed to close in. Only a few Narnian soldiers kept him from being completely overcome. She wondered why Orieus wasn't at her brother's side, and then she saw that he was a little ways away fighting for his own life. Peter wasn't hurt, though, and he was still fighting with a strength and tenacity that impressed Lucy even in that dark moment.
Then there was a great rumble which shook her even where she stood. She turned and saw three giants stomping through the battle, swinging awful spiked clubs to dispatch any Narnians that got in their way. Lucy saw a centaur and a satyr go flying before she had to hide her face. The giants kept advancing—she could tell by the vibrations in the ground, and when she forced herself to look again she saw that they were headed straight for Peter. She waited for him to turn around and see them and do something, but he didn't. He was fighting a minotaur. He couldn't win the duel. The giants were getting closer and closer with each of their long strides, and Lucy could see Peter flying just the way all the other Narnians were being dispatched.
She knew what she had to do. She didn't waste a moment dismounting and stringing her bow. She fitted the arrow to the string and, trying to remember everything Susan had ever taught her about marksmanship, she let it fly.
Her arrow caught one of the giants in the neck. It must have hit an artery for blood exploded from the wound. He choked and lurched into another of the giants, and they fell together. The second one hit his head on something on the ground—it might have been a centaur's armed body—and his skull cracked open. Blood and brains spilled all over the ground, running thick together in a glutinous stream which covered the warring troops. Lucy doubled over, willing herself not to vomit.
When she was able to stand upright she saw that a battalion of the enemy had broken away from the main battle and was charging at the ridge where she stood—charging at her. The giant was pointing in the rear, and the captain led the charge. She was frozen. Did she have time to flee? Could she outrun them now? Was it better to stand and fight? Could she? Edmund had told her over and over again: "There is a fear that overtakes you when you are faced with battle. Don't be a fool and think it won't get you. It gets everyone. When you see those clubs and swords all raised at you and a hundred men rush in your direction, you will be paralyzed. You must find a way to fight it. Whatever it takes, Lucy. If you find yourself in battle, remember you have to conquer that fear."
Lucy thought of Edmund's words, and she still couldn't move. She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe this was all a nightmare. Before her eyes were shut for a few seconds she saw in her mind's eye the Great Lion, and she heard his roar. An arrow whizzed by her ear. She thought of her shield but realized she could make better use of her bow. She fitted an arrow to the string and felled that archer, and another. She brought down the other giant.
But still others were rushing at her, more than she could count. She was shooting as fast as she could and hitting a target more often than not, but she couldn't get them all. They were going to overtake her. She knew she couldn't run.
She slung the bow over her should and fitted the shield on her arm. Though Edmund said she wouldn't be able to make much use of it, she drew the sword. Perhaps she wasn't good at swordplay, but she might be able to get in one good thrust, like Peter did with the wolf. He had killed the wolf and he had barely even held a sword before that. Maybe Aslan would give her the same kind of luck. They were very close now. She stood her ground, even though she wanted to flee.
They were upon her with a ferocious cry, but Lucy thought grimly that she had heard worse the night they killed Aslan. "They didn't win then and they won't win now," she told herself. "Not without a fight." She lunged forward with her sword. The ogre she was hoping to take down laughed.
"The little king doesn't know how to use his sword!" he cried, and with a flick of his wrist he sent her sword flying. She drew her dagger, but she realized now how little she knew about the art of battle. And they were all around her. The ogre saw the terror in her eyes and he laughed again. "Only three thrones with monarchs now!" he taunted, and lifted his ax above his head.
Lucy saw her split second opportunity and stabbed him in the gut where his chain mail lifted. It was a good hit; he fell. Twenty more were behind him. Lucy knew now that she was lost. She ducked behind her shield and prayed to Aslan. She stabbed at what she could reach, and that kept them at bay for a moment or two, but she was sure it would soon be over.
Then she heard him scream "Lucy! LUCY!" and suddenly Peter was next to her. He had cleared a path through the enemies to get to her. When they saw Peter, they all took a step or two back and seemed to hesitate. Lucy dared to peek from behind her shield and saw that they regarded her brother as a fell warrior. "Are you alright?" he demanded, brandishing his sword.
She couldn't speak. She could only stare at him. She wanted to cry. Peter looked beautiful to her.
"Are you hurt?" he asked with urgency as he smacked an advancing minoboar with his shield. "There's blood all over you!"
"It's not mine," she breathed. "Peter, I—"
"Put that shield away and draw your bow. Fight with your back to me. Hurry, Lucy, there's no time!" Peter commanded in such a voice that Lucy swallowed her tears and obeyed at once.
Lucy felt better with Peter there. She thought she might survive now, if he protected her, and she remembered what she came for. He was with her; she could watch over him. They bumped into each other often, and that contact gave Lucy some encouragement.
Eventually she had to call to him "Peter, I'm out of arrows!"
"Then draw your dagger and fight as best you can. Don't leave my side."
"I won't," Lucy vowed.
"And make use of your shield!" Peter reminded her as he ducked under his.
Now Peter was shouting directions at her over his shoulder. Lucy felt a little stronger with his guidance, but it seemed they had been fighting forever and she wondered how long she could keep this up. She felt herself growing tired. Her movements were less forceful, her reactions slower.
"Lucy, come on!" Peter called to her. "Find your strength! We cannot give up!"
Lucy gritted her teeth and willed herself to find the energy she had left. She felt the heavy breath of an ogre beside her, and before she could turn she heard him fall to the ground. She twisted around to thank Peter and saw that a minotaur wielding a huge mace was advancing upon him. He was too busy finishing off the ogre to notice. She tried to do something, but it was too late. The minotaur swung the mace and tore a gash in the chain mail on Peter's arm. He hissed in pain as the metal connected. An ogre saw the moment and slashed at Peter's arm with an ax. Now Peter cried out. Lucy moved to grab her cordial, but he shouted, "There's no time! Fight for your life, Lucy! Don't stop. Do you hear me? Don't stop fighting!"
Lucy obeyed, even though she could feel Peter's blood seeping through her own chain mail. She forced herself not to think of it. Peter was still awake. He was still fighting. Maybe the rest of the army would make it to them in time. Surely General Oreius would see that Peter was missing. Surely Aslan was with them.
"Lucy, do whatever you can to get out of this alive!" Peter said, and she thought his voice sounded strange. Then she felt him go down.
"NO!" she screamed. "Peter!" She would not mourn him. She didn't know if he was dead or alive—surely he couldn't be dead—but she knew what she had to do. She wheeled around with her dagger and stared into all the malice of her enemies' eyes. She fought as hard as she could. Then her arm was crushed with another blow from the mace and she sank to her knees. She knew they would move in for the kill. She gathered Peter close to her and hid under the shield. "If we can just hold out until they come to help." She thought she heard the horns. That must have been it. They must be coming.
Enemies were closing in, hammering on the shield. She dared to peek over the edge once and saw the minotaur winding his mace. She ducked quickly behind it again and made sure Peter's head was protected by her body. She didn't protect her own head. The mace hit the shield with such force that it knocked Lucy in the head. She blinked and saw stars. She fought to remain conscious. "I will protect Peter. I will," she murmured, but the haze in her head was growing to strong. The blackness was creeping up on her. She knew she was lost, and probably Peter too. "I have done the best I could for him. Maybe Aslan will still let me into his country and I will see Peter there too." Then the cloud obscured everything, and she knew no more.