Chapter 1 – The King's Fall

"For Narnia!"

In reply, the small army roared and surged forward. Their kings, High King Peter and King Edmund, led the charge. It looked, for a moment, like a painting of one glorious battle or another; a massive army rumbling forward like the terror of a tidal wave, and at the point of the wave, two single glittering figures atop two graceful white warhorses, their swords and voices raised to strike fear in the hearts of their enemies.

Across the field, a small and hopelessly outnumbered gathering of Witch supporters wait to break the coming storm. They were clearly disorganized and some were beginning to back away, looking for a way to escape their seemingly inevitable death.

High above, an Eagle wheeled in the warm air rising out of the damp summer forests surrounding the battle. His mistress would be sorely disappointed that she would be missing the fight; it was unlikely that this battle would last long enough for her to arrive, even if she and her brethren galloped as hard as they could. He made a last circle above the field, ready to return to his mistress and deliver the news of the Narnian army's location and assured victory. He turned his keen eyes towards his mistress and her army, hidden some distance away in the trees. A flash of metal caught his eye from within the forest; it was perfectly round -- a signal mirror. He turned for another circle of the battle, and watched with growing horror as the rabble caught in the center of the Narnian army suddenly found leadership and organization, making a sudden strike at a weak point in their surrounding enemies. At the same instant, thousands of secret Witch supporters emerged from the forest.

The Narnian army was suddenly surrounded and vastly outnumbered.

The Eagle dropped in altitude, gaining speed and pushing himself to return to his army in record time. As he dropped below the canopy line, he thought grimly that at least his mistress will be able to display her battle prowess for the Kings. Perhaps so too might her sister need to display her skill in healing.

"Mistress!" the Eagle cried. A young woman turned from speaking to two men and held out her arm. "Mistress Adrianna," the Eagle said, dipping its head quickly, "there is disaster. The Narnians have been ambushed. They will most certainly need our assistance. They are a 10 minutes' hard gallop due east. We must move quickly in order to reach them in time to turn the tide of battle."

Adrianna, motioning to the men standing next to her, muttered, "Mother and Amelia."

The men disappeared into the underbrush, where, a moment later, two more women emerged. The first was much older than Adrianna and looked remarkably like her. Both had the dark skin of one who had spent all their lives outside and dark hair. Both had the blank faces of those who have ceased to see battle as death and now simply calculate the best chances of victory. The other, slightly younger than Adrianna, was the exact opposite: her skin was pale and freckled, her hair was red and curly and her face displayed obvious dismay at the news. This one was a healer, one who saw first hand the pain and suffering caused by battles like these. She, like her mother and sister, searched for any chance at victory, but was constantly aware of the cost of loss of life and this awareness had not left her without scars.

The older woman, Deirdre, looked at the Eagle for confirmation; the Eagle's nod was all she needed.

"Adrianna, gather your hunters. You will lead the first attack wave. Amelia will follow with the angels, and I will follow with a second attack wave." She turned to Amelia. "Your first priority is to find and remove the injured. As angels return with injured soldiers, their guardians should turn their attention to the safety of the kings."

Three frustratingly slow minutes later, Adrianna's first attack wave was gathered. With a single silent signal from their leader, every horseman in the group kicked their steeds into a heavy gallop, moving with surprising grace through the trees and thick undergrowth. At the same time, nearly a hundred birds and Birds leaped from the branches of the trees overhead, some flying ahead to scout the battle, most shadowing their master's movements on the ground below.

Amelia watched from her own horse as the last of her sister's group disappeared into the trees. She closed her eyes, asking Aslan for strength and guidance, and signaled her own group to begin the charge. They would have to move fast to reach the battle in time, and even faster to keep up with Adrianna's hunters.

Amelia let her Horse guide itself through the trees; the mare knew that reaching the Narnian army was urgent, and Farheart was a better forest tracker than perhaps even Amelia. Without warning, the canopy began to break, and ahead, she could see Adrianna's group paused before the final charge. As Amelia approached, she could see Adrianna giving the signal. As one, her hunters let out a mighty cry and surge forward. In the distance, she could see the battle come to a grinding halt as Narnian and Witch supporter alike stopped to stare at this new group, each side wondering to celebrate or despair.

Adrianna's sword speared upwards towards the sky as they broke the last of the trees, and in one great booming voice, the hunters shouted out, "For Narnia!"

Farheart snorted, tossing her head impatiently. She could hear the approach of Deirdre's group far before Amelia could. Amelia took a deep breath and urged to horse forward, drawing her own sword. "Forward, Angels! To the aid of the Narnian Kings!" she cried, pushing Farheart to go faster with each word. She broke into the light of the field as Adrianna smashed into the legion of Witch supporters surrounding the Narnians. King Peter could be seen at the center of the thrall, crying out in triumph as he struck down another enemy. The true battle had begun.

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Peter's thoughts were surprisingly calm as he continued to fight his way through the hopeless battle. He imagined what Susan would say when then returned; she would probably scold him for insisting that she and her archers guard the camp, hadn't she told him that he should take some of her archers with him? He refused to entertain the thought that he might not live long enough to see Susan or Lucy again, despite the fact that it seemed to be a very real possibility.

An earth-shattering roar sounded from somewhere to his left. He slashed at the wolf leaping for him, and looked up. His heart sputtered at the sound: was that Aslan, here to save them? As he watched, he saw a single dark-haired woman emerge from the trees, galloping towards them. He wondered then if perhaps Susan had come with her archers, despite his orders. But no, this was not Susan... and the army of wild mounted warriors following her was not the Narnian archers. Peter noted that the sounds of battle around him had almost entirely stopped as everyone stared in shock at the approaching group. They looked like no Children of Adam and Eve that he had ever seen before and it occurred to him that they may be more Witch supporters. He couldn't find it in himself to care: if they were, what was a few hundred more enemies when they were already so severely outnumbered?

"FOR NARNIA!!"

It took Peter a moment to realize that the single, roaring voice was actually the unified shouts of the oncoming army. Hope seized him; now, perhaps, there was a chance! The cry seemed to have inspired the battle to begin again; Narnians were fighting with renewed vigour, the Witch supporters with greater desperation. Barely a moment later, Peter's attention was drawn from the battle and towards the trees as a single voice cried out, though the words were indistinguishable, and another woman, this time a red-haired one, lead yet another army out of the trees and towards the battle. The men and women of the army were clearly of the same people as the first group, though their leader looked markedly different from her brethren, almost Narnian in appearance. If she was a Narnian herself, then these people would certainly fight for the sake of their leader's home. Suddenly victory not only seemed possible, but likely. He could see Edmund, who had at some point fallen from his horse, lift his sword into the air, laughing. Peter let out a whoop, his horse rearing, and cut down a dark dwarf as he was backing away from the stallion's flailing hooves.

As the red-haired woman and her army reached the battle, yet another cry came from the forest. Peter looked up, his face stretching into a grin as his old arrogance returned. An older woman, similar in appearance to the first, led a third army of warriors towards the battle. Peter laughed, raising his sword. It would take a blunder of extraordinary proportions to take this battle from them now. In his jubilance, however, Peter did not notice the enemy sneaking up beside him to take advantage of his momentary distraction, nor Edmund's desperate shout of warning as the spear was drawn back. He simply felt a sudden, blooming pain in his stomach as the spear pierced his armor and drove through his abdomen. He locked eyes with the triumphant hag who watched gleefully as he fell from the saddle.

Edmund fought to reach his fallen brother, but several enemies ensure that he could not. He watched in horror as a Cougar paced around the helpless Peter, thoroughly enjoying the High King's pain.

"Heh. Without four of you on the throne, Queen Jadis will return to take Narnia again. All your work for nothing..." he taunted, breathing in Peter's face. He opened his maw, fitting his teeth around Peter's throat, and fell over sideways with a knife hilt jutting out the side of his neck.

Edmund released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in, and made a new attempt to fight through the enemies blocking his path from his brother.

Farheart stopped, standing with her front legs on one side of the fallen Narnian King, her back legs on the other. It was her duty to provide protection to Amelia and her injured while she worked to heal them. Amelia had barely dismounted when the very hag who had attacked the King fell on her, shrieking "the King must die!"

Amelia spun to face her attacker, drawing both her swords and cutting the clumsily wielded spear cleanly in half, its wielder following in short order. While she may be called an Angel, Amelia had no mercy for her enemies, particularly those who would interrupt her work. She knelt next to Peter's torso, crushing aloe leaves between her hands. She pressed her oil-soaked fingers into the wound as best she could through the armor, but only succeeded in cutting herself on the shredded metal.

"Saleema!" she called, not even looking up from her work. A short woman no older than Amelia and armed to the nines appeared at Amelia's side from seemingly nowhere. "Help me lift him onto Farheart."

Saleema nodded and grabbed Peter by one arm while Amelia took him by the other. Together, they hoisted him to his feet, and then onto Farheart.

Amelia mounted behind him and held him upright with both her arms. "Farheart, back to camp."

Farheart tossed her head and whinnied, setting off at a slow gallop back towards the forest.

Edmund watched Peter disappear into the trees with this mysterious woman. "Stop! Where are you taking him?!" he cried, despite the sheer impossibility of his voice being heard over the noise and distance. A weight collided with him from behind and he stumbled forward a few paces. Turning, he found a dead satyr slump to the ground and Saleema drawing one of her swords out of its chest.

"I'll see to it that you be taken to him once the battle is finished, your Majesty. For now, though, I recommend focusing your full attention on the task at hand, M'lord."

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Peter could remember little of his ride through the forest, or much of being bandaged up. The wound had weakened him, so he slept most of the time. When he was awake, though, he paid little attention to what was around him; he couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off of the angel watching over him.

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Hehehe... yep! I'm back! I know it's been forever. Anyways, I know this seems like a cliché storyline, but if it gives me any cred, I came up with it before I checked out any of the other Narnia fanfics on FFnet. Anyways, I promise that it will turn out unlike the other stories. Also, just so you all are aware, this is going to be a very long story. So ya, I'm in it for the long haul if you are :)