Chapter One

"I'll be back soon, I promise. The Ettin Giants have never felt the full might of Narnia before, and they're in for a surprise," I said, trying to console the girl who still hung onto my shirtsleeve as we said goodbye, even though she knew it was a very unladylike thing to do. "They'll be dead before they know they've been hit. You'll see me by next Chilling Moon, Lu."

"But that's two months! And what if you get hurt?" I couldn't help but smile at my littlest (and, in all truthfulness, favorite) sister's anxiety, but she was right. After the last attack, where nine of my ribs had been broken, even I wasn't sure if I was ready to go back and face the Giants. I didn't have much of a choice though, because lately they'd started attacking the small villages along the border.

I crouched down to her eye-level and took both of her hands in mine. "Then you'll just have to save some of your Cordial for me. I'll be fine, Lucy, really. I'll make sure Su keeps you busy enough learning all that 'decorum' – " I shuddered, drawing a laugh from her, " – and you'll be all swept up in how to say 'I hate you' without anybody realizing what you really said, that you won't notice I'm gone until I'm back."

She looked up at me with big blue eyes, still a child and yet so much older. "Promise?"

I watched her gravely. "On my sword, my crown, my kingdom, and my honor, fair Lady," making her laugh again. I pulled her forward into a hug and she squeezed the breath out of me. I planted a quick kiss onto the top of her head and pulled away, standing up as I did so.

Susan stepped forward, radiant in deep purple and bright red, black curls hanging loose, to hug me goodbye. When we parted, I kissed her swiftly on the cheek, making her smile and shake her head at how undignified I was.

I turned towards Edmund, who was watching me with impatience and concern in his dark eyes. "Can't wait for me to be off, can you, Ed?" I asked, grinning at his expression. He scowled at me, and I ruffled his hair, causing his glower to turn into a grimace, which was the equivalent to a smile when it was before 9:00 in the morning. My brother's cheerful disposition (and lack thereof) in the morning is legendary.

I gave one last hug to Lucy and climbed onto Linotta, a feisty mare who loved going fast and, though she couldn't talk, knew how to make herself understood. "Ready?" I called to Oreius. The stately Centaur nodded and the war party moved forward. I glanced back for a second to see my siblings waving from Cair Paravel. I raised a hand in farewell, then turned and kicked the mare into a gallop. I would fulfill my promise to Lucy and get back as quickly as I could.

We camped in Owlwood, halfway between Cair Paravel and Ettinsmoor, that night. It had been a long ride and all were tired, though none could fall asleep. I stared into the fire that was just outside my tent and thought of home. Not even a day had passed and already I missed my family.

The sound of hoof-beats brought me out of my reverie and I looked up into Oreius' face. The Centaur looked down at me from his great height with sympathy in his eyes; he, too, knew what it was like to be away from his family, facing a war that he probably wouldn't return home from. All great fighters have that first, nerve-wracking battle, and though this one was far from my first, it was the first one in which Edmund wouldn't be beside me. I drew strength from Edmund, and he from me, but here, I was alone. Oreius understood that, for during a guerilla strike at an army supply cache when the White Witch was still in power, Oreius had lost his brother, a Centaur I had never known.

"It is late, my King, and you must sleep," he said in his deep, rumbling voice. I nodded and stood, bowing slightly. He returned my gesture, with a much deeper bow, and left, his hooves crunching the brittle autumn leaves as he walked. I watched the fire for a little while more, and then stood and slipped into my tent. Lying down, I could still see the faint glow of the dying embers through the flap. I fell asleep with that image in my head.

I woke to a hand clamping an iron grip over my mouth. To no avail, I struggled and yelled, trying to draw attention to the fact that I was being captured in the middle of an army camp, but nothing worked. I kicked and flailed wildly at my attackers with the knife that was under my pillow, my training forgotten, for the sake of needing air. Already my vision was growing fuzzy, gray around the edges. I heard a muffled grunt and realized one of my feet must have hit its mark. The grip on my mouth loosened slightly, and I sucked in all the air I could before my supply was cut off again. I thrashed about, still unable to break free, then something hit my head, hard, and then there was nothing.