Edmund the Just, king of the western wood, raised his beautiful silver blade over his dark curls atop his head and arched it down at the leather clad bandits around it.
With a shark cry of pain the grizzled man crumpled and fell to the earth.
A self satisfied grin graced his freckled cheeks, a warm sun tan across his visible skin.
For a nineteen year old boy he held himself with poise, high shoulders, straight back, and an easy grace under pressure.
His lank figure had hit a recent growth spurt and the green tunic hid the lightweight armor in need of replacement.
"Is that the best you can do?" he taunted the attackers.
A few more men dove forward, their swords and daggers aimed toward his chest, not knowing about the armor beneath. Their blades glanced off the king and they turned with murder in their eyes.
A gruff man with the features of a vulture dove toward his leg.
Narrowly dodging Edmund turned, his blonde curls bouncing with the force of the movement.
"That's more like it," the excited glee was back in his eye. His heart pounded and his breaths came sharp and fast. Knuckles turned white on the hilt of his sword. Instincts sharper he kept his eyes roving the group of attackers, waiting for the next attack on tender hooks.
"Is this simply a game to you?" a man with dark eyes lunged forward, metal clashing on metal as he stared the king in the eyes. "is the suffering of your subjects amusing?"
"What are you talking about?" Edmund kept his eyes trained on the man, brows furrowing and confusion flashing across his eyes.
"You know what I'm talking about king Edmund," he put emphasis on the name, spitting at his feet.
Pushing the man back, Edmund reeled, stumbling lightly. "Please. If you have a problem can we not talk?"
"It is too late for talking!" the man pushed forward. "The men of the western wood are done with your rule! And I will not be fooled by you and your silver tongue!"
He pressed forward, crashing his sword forward, downward to his neck.
Edmund blocked it in only a second. "Let me help!"
"No!" another man came from behind, in a collision course with Edmund's unprotected thigh.
They knew his weak spots.
Shaking him of his unnerved confusion, his eyes narrowed, his breathing steadied and he whirled his blade with the might of a warrior.
"Edmund!" a girl's voice shouted.
For a second gaze was pulled from the fight for only a moment.
The dark haired beauty, her piercing eyes taking in the scene in a moment. Her dark blue dress swirled at her heals as she surged forward, reaching for an arrow at her belt, pulling the bow from her shoulder.
"Susan stay back!" he tried to shout. But the words caught in his throat.
He was choking on something. Numbness hit his sternum and his legs seemed to turn to jelly.
Susan's face became pale as snow and she aimed her arrows at the figures around him.
They seemed to be retreating. Why were they leaving? they had him at their mercy. Edmund could not move.
The numbness was taking over and his knees hit the dirt road with great force, jarring his whole body.
Something rattled between his ribs and he gasped for air.
That hurt. That hurt a lot.
"Edmund!" hazy voices were screaming but they seemed so far away.
"Susan?" he managed to speak, still struggling to breathe. Why couldn't he breathe?
Something was trickling down his chin. Reaching numb fingers up, he covered his mouth.
His dirty fingers came back covered in a deep scarlet liquid. It tasted very metallic on his tongue. It bubbled up his throat and with a hazy panic he realized what it was. Blood. He was bleeding.
Looking down to his stomach he saw the sharp tip of a silver blade peering through his ribs.
The point was almost as fine as a sewing needle and as he tried to gasp for the little air he could come by his back was met by a thin hilt. The sword had gone into the hilt.
"You need help," Susan's voice came to him, as if a dream, echoing in his ear as if they were canyons. Her face was inches from him, a cloudy gaze over those piercing eyes. He could see every sun mark on her face, freckles peering out of her flawless skin.
Edmund's vision tunneled and his sister's face came into sharp relief.
"Susan?" his words were hard to come by, instinct making him struggle for air.
"Do not speak," her hands moved carefully across his back, light and spidery, holding tight to the item lodge firmly in his back.
His senses may have been damaged but he still had enough sense to stop her hand.
"Don't."
"His has to come out. Lucy is just over the ridge. When I do not return she will know something is wrong. She has her healing vile."
He moved his hand aside and grit his teeth.
The needle thin weapon was removed with ease, but the sound escaped his throat with anything but.
His entire body seemed to be e drained of energy, blood spread across the green tunic like a black flower blooming on his stomach. Falling forward he crashed into his sister who caught him with steady hands. She pulled off his tunic and armor, leaving him in his white under shirt. She cut the fabric with one of her arrows and began to wrap thick bandages around his waist.
Edmund was far too old to cry. He was almost twenty, a gown man, but the pain was too great.
Strangled sobs escaped his mouth, pooling tears spilling down his cheeks.
"I am so sorry," Susan's hands were covered in bright scarlet but she hugged him close, resting him on her knees.
She rubbed gentle circles in his lower back, something she hadn't done since he was very small.
The memory washed over Edmund, blinding him to the pain if only for a moment.
Lightning had flashed out the window, thunder growling louder than a lion. Edmund, hardly five years old had leapt out of bed in terror.
Peter had been old enough to move out of the nursery and Edmund moved to his elder sister.
"Susan?" child's hand's shifted her shoulder. "Susan wake up."
"What's wrong?" she mumbled, still half asleep.
Edmund clapped his hands over his ears as thunder rolled through the house, seeming to shake the frames on the walls.
"I don't like that," he trembled.
Her normally pouting frown turned to a motherly smile and she sat up, opening her arms for her younger brother. "Come here."
Clambering up on her bed he buried himself in his sister's arms, shaking with fear. "Susan what is that awful noise?"
"It's only the thunder Ed," she soothed.
"It's scary," the tiny child whimpered. "Why does it have to be so loud?"
"They're lions," Susan explained calmly, her arms warped tight around her brother. "Mummy said when they get really mad they run around up around there, shaking lighting from clouds and roaring."
"Lions?" Edmund's eyes glittered with interest.
"Yea," she rocked her little brother, the storm beginning to abate. By the time the thunder and lightning had faded in the distance both siblings were asleep under the covers.
A flash of unbearable pain racked Edmund's body, shattering the childhood memory.
His mind was blurrier than before and his eye began to close.
"No," Susan said firmly, holding tight to his upper arm. "Stay awake. Stay awake until Lucy comes."
He nodded weakly, pulling tighter to her, as scared as he had been that night back in England.
A clattering of armor over the hill almost stopped the king's heart and he shook with fear. The bandits could not return, not here, not now.
"It is alright," Susan soothed, holding her brother tight to her and doing all she could for his injuries. "It is just Lucy."
She was right. The youngest queen hurried over the hill, face white with fear and eyes wide. "Susan!" Lucy ran down to them, dropping to the ground and fumbling at her belt. "What happened?"
Edmund didn't hear the reply. He was slipping out of consciousness. Someone far in the distance was yelling his name but he didn't know who nor did he care.
Edmund's eyes opened in the dim light of his own room. He was lying on his bed and he was under the impression he was alone until he attempted to sit up.
"Lay back," Susan's gentle voice soothed.
"What happened?" Edmund ignored her words although the effort it was taking to remain upright was draining.
"Lucy healed you and you passed out. You are still weak. Lie back."
This time he listened. "Those bandits-"
"Have been caught and are awaiting the verdict from Peter," Susan moved closer.
"They only hurt me because they believed they had been wronged. They need to be dealt with by me. Peter tends not to listen to most explanations when the matter concerns his brother and sister."
"True as that may be you need rest," the high queen gently brushed back his hair.
"Have Peter push back the trial until later. I want to be there."
"Whatever you like," Susan stood, moving to tell Peter the news.
"Susan?"
"Yes Edmund?"
"Thank you."
Her brows twisted in confusion. "For what?"
"For staying with me. You're just about the best sister a kid could ask for."
A gentle smile crossed her lips. "I'm just glad you're okay. "
The ending felt a bit rushed but I hope you enjoyed it.