Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.
Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?
A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.
Chapter Two: Loss, Pain, and . . .
Peter threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the Ettin's club. Twisting, he slashed through the fell Giant's wrist tendon. The Ettin bellowed then blubbered as the club slipped from his suddenly limp fingers. He stumbled back, grasping his bloody wrist and howling as large tears welled then spilled down to drip off the end of his bulbous nose. Peter's eyes widened when he saw the Ettin's stumbling steps taking him directly toward Edmund.
He raced forward and slashed through the back of the Ettin's knee. He collapsed, screaming only for as long as it took a Centaur soldier to drive a spear through his neck. Peter rushed on. The battle was fierce and the Narnians were holding their own. They had killed two of the four Ettins. The third was already stumbling beneath the General's unrelenting attack. Edmund and Babur were working together to drive back the fourth.
Peter allowed himself a wry smile as he noted Edmund had managed to keep his horse. No doubt, his brother would find the time to taunt him for losing another horse once this was all over. The smile vanished as a huge spear whistled through the air to skewer Edmund's horse. The animal's scream was horrible as the gelding collapsed, legs thrashing and Edmund still caught in the saddle. Then trees were torn up by their roots and hurtled toward soldiers, crushing four of them. Peter's heart dropped to his boots when no less than ten more Giants stomped and tore their way into the fray.
The screams of the injured and dying filled the air. Edmund. Where was Edmund? Peter scanned the area. "Edmund!"
The horse had mercifully ceased its death throes but Edmund . . . Peter blanched and ran forward, ignoring the Giants and the rapidly dwindling soldiers. "Edmund!"
His brother finally stirred. His pale face twisted into a grimace and he growled, "Blasted Giants!" He looked up and then his dark eyes widened in alarm. "Move!"
Peter whirled, bringing Rhindon up reflexively. A dark Giant with one shoulder higher than the other was stretching out a six-fingered hand. His black beard was knotted into messy braids with what could only be bones tied into them. His wide mouth parted into a sneer. Then his leering expression morphed into fury just as a Tiger's roar filled the air.
Babur clawed and bit the Giant's leg. Peter could only watch in horror as the Giant spun with lumbering grace and caught his Tiger up, squeezing so tightly that he could imagine he heard Babur's bones cracking. The Tiger let out a low moan. An angry cry of denial caught in Peter's throat, choking him, as the Giant brought the Tiger up to his mouth and he feared that he would have to watch the fiend bite Babur's head off.
Anger finally broke him of the paralyzing chains holding his limbs and Peter charged with a furious shout. "For Narnia and for Aslan!"
But this time, no voices were raised in an echoing rally to his battle cry. No support came. Even Edmund was still pinned by his dead horse. Peter charged forward alone but his fury blinded him to all but his target. The dark Giant let loose a horrid, cruel laugh and threw Babur away so the Tiger's limp body flopped then tumbled out of sight down a ravine. Peter screamed in anger. His faithful Tiger dead. Edmund trapped. Thalia. Oh Thalia. No, he would not let this happen. He would not let them kill him and his brother here. He would not let Babur's sacrifice be in vain.
The dark Giant merely leered at him and laughed that horrible taunting laugh once more. He stepped back as Peter lunged. Rhindon slashed harmlessly through the air. Edmund. Thalia. Babur. Susan and Lucy. Thalia. Babur. Edmund. Peter whirled, panting, and lunged forward again, this time slicing off a piece of the Giant's soiled patched velvet leggings. The Giant's laugh rumbled overhead and then he caught Peter in one hand and squeezed.
Peter gasped and coughed, Rhindon slipping from his grasp despite his frantic effort to hang on to the sword. He looked up into mean, dark eyes that gleamed with cruel intelligence lighting them. "The prize." His gaze shifted to somewhere behind Peter and he added, "Two prizes. They will be pleased."
Peter's grasping fingers managed to brush against the hilt of his dagger. The Giant's painfully tight grip was making the simple task difficult. Then Peter was falling as the Giant slammed him into the ground next to Edmund. He caught only a glimpse of his brother's alarmed look before all the air rushed from his lungs and darkness overtook him as the Giant's laugh rumbled in his ears.
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Three Ettins had cut him off from his colts and the rest of the soldiers. Oreius had put them in fear of his swords for the moment after he cut down the fourth. His gaze swept the torn landscape. The Giants were no longer engaged in battle, several stopping to pick up the wounded and finish them off. But where were his colts?
One of the Ettins grunted and Oreius leapt to the side as the Fell creature's spiked club dug into the ground, tearing furrows into the grass and exposing the dark soil. He cut deep into the Ettin's arm then sliced into the Giant's throat. The two remaining Ettins shifted about nervously, one attempting to hide behind his fellow.
Oreius caught a glimpse of a dark Giant, somewhat smaller than a typical Ettin but about the average size for one of the Harfang brood. His heart ceased to beat for a moment as he caught sight of his colts hanging limply from the Giant's hand. The dark Giant turned and looked at him, a haughty sneer in place. Then he bellowed, "Mork, Tor! Kill the horse-man and add him to our pie tonight!"
The two Ettins finally stopped cowering and straightened with exceptionally stupid grins crossing their faces. They turned to him with a greedy hunger lighting their small eyes. Oreius raised his swords in defiance. But more Giants were beginning to lumber across the killing field and the dark Giant who had stolen his colts was striding north with two other Giants following in his wake as some sort of honor guard.
Though it pained him to admit it, the Centaur knew he would not be able to defeat all of the remaining Giants on his own. They were slow but it would not take them long to swarm him, especially now their leader had promised him as food. He did not permit the horror of that thought, of the fate that awaited his fallen soldiers to gain a foothold in his thoughts. This was not the time for such distractions.
Oreius backed up warily, allowing the two Ettins to lumber after him, greed and hunger spurring them on. Finally, he reared, shouting a wordless challenge, and then wheeled about and galloped north. They were close to Ettinsmoor, not even ten miles as the gryphon flies. The Ettins were calling to each other, shouting stupid and obscene taunts about who would catch him first and what they would do with him, as they continued their lumbering run.
Oreius leapt one narrow ravine then galloped on. He could hear the other Giants making their way parallel to him, laughing and joking about their prizes. Pushing forward, he turned to his left and dashed into a ravine that would limit the Ettins' ability to maneuver their heavy clubs. Wheeling about, he raised his twin swords.
The Ettins caught sight of him and shouted, "Trapped! Trapped! Trapped!"
Oreius did not so much as flinch as one of them stopped to throw a massive boulder over him to crash to the ground behind him. Then the other Ettin shoved his fellow out of the way and hefted a large spear as he charged Oreius.
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Peter groaned but didn't open his eyes when something thumped against his boot. However, his eyes flew open when something or rather someone kicked him in the leg. He raised his head to glare at Edmund, wondering why he was bothering him. Just because they were camping didn't mean he would let his little brother get away with pestering him in his sleep. The jumbled thought of scolding his brat of a brother stuttered to a halt when a dull pain made his vision swim as he raised his head then it died completely when he saw Edmund was gagged and bound.
The horrid memory came flooding back. Giants, laughing, taunting, and killing. Babur. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and nearly gagged on the foul handkerchief cutting into the sides of his mouth. His arms and legs were bound with the same rough rope that was almost as thick around as he was wide. The knots were crude though. Perhaps, just perhaps he could get free.
He glanced at Edmund and then plucked at the knot near his knees. His brother gave a little nod and then they both stiffened as a voice boomed out, "Where are Mork and Tor? My kin? Where did you take my kin?"
Peter twisted his head around and spied the Giants sprawled about a huge bonfire. His eyes narrowed as he realized the Giants were sitting in two separate groups. Four Giants gathered around the dark one who had killed Babur. And four others gathered around a two-headed brute. Harfangers and Ettins. The Ettin with two heads scowled at the dark Harfanger. "Borak will hear of this."
The dark Harfanger shrugged almost carelessly but he kept one hand on his spear. "What care I, Culhwch?"
One of the Ettin's heads turned to frown at the other but said nothing. The other head smirked. "Borak is king of Harfang."
The Harfanger laughed and then raised his spear, pointing it threateningly at the Ettin. "What care I? It was not Borak who trapped the prizes. It was not Borak who caused us to feast on tender Narnian delicacies tonight. It was me! It was Morfran! Borak is in his castle, Morfran is bringing the prizes. And I, Morfran, decide who we care goes into the night and doesn't return."
"Don't return? What do you mean Mork and Tor don't return?" One of the other Ettins pushed forward, glaring, and a gleaming white bone in hand. "You sent our kin to be kilt?"
Morfran snorted then cursed the Ettins roundly. Peter jolted when a hand touched his sleeve. Edmund was looking at him with half amusement and half exasperation. Peter flushed, realizing he had foolishly allowed himself to be caught up in paying too much heed to the drama between the two camps of Giants and too little to getting out of his own precarious situation. Edmund made quick work of the knots near Peter's boots while he pried the knot at his knees loose then wriggled free of the clumsy knots binding his arms.
The Giants were still shoving each other and hurling insults along with miscellaneous objects. Peter noted that they had been tossed among the Harfangers' packs and two massive canvas bags currently blocked them from being easily seen by the feuding Giants. He scrambled into a low crouch and then looked at Edmund, mouthing "Oreius?"
His brother shook his head.
Peter wondered if Kat would ever forgive them if Oreius had not managed to escape the chaos. Probably not. He certainly wouldn't forgive himself. He gazed across the packs again at where the Giants were shoving each other with increasing aggression. He could barely see the remains of the soldiers but there was no way to tell if Oreius had also suffered the ghastly fate of his men. Peter swallowed hard then he steeled himself against the grief that would come, that had been earned by the soldiers who had fought so bravely to protect him and his brother.
Edmund came up and tapped him on the elbow then nodded to a shadowed ravine. Peter cast one last long look, wondering if the General was dead or merely missing, toward the Giants and then he turned back to his brother and gave a curt nod. Together they rose stealthily, picking their way across the packs.
"Eh! They's leavin'!"
They started running. The Giants' bellows turned from taunts to cries of dismay. A Harfanger lunged in front of them, his club bearing down on them. Peter lunged forward, ramming his shoulder into Edmund's back, and sending them both tumbling to the rocky ground as the club whistled overhead. Peter felt the draft ruffle his hair and heard the rip from a spike snagging against the back of his leather jerkin.
Then a war cry shattered the night air. Peter raised his head to see a Centaur formed of shadow hurtle into the attacking Ettin. The moonlight disappeared behind the clouds just as the Ettin's cries abruptly ended. Then a large hand pulled him up by the jerkin. Oreius' command echoed slightly, "Fly!"
Peter reached one hand out to steady Edmund and then they both raced toward the southerly ravine. A fiery beam from the bonfire landed across the ravine opening. The brothers whirled to see the Giants beginning to rally as Morfran and Culhwch shouted at them.
The General's dark gaze was as unfathomable as ever when Peter chanced a glance at him. He only inclined his head north. They were left with no other option after all. Oreius could have jumped the blazing log with ease but not so with Peter and Edmund. And Peter knew Oreius would never abandon them.
"Come on!" Edmund's whisper could have been a shout for the way it startled him. He must have hit his head harder than he thought when Morfran first knocked him out. The throbbing in his temples seemed to confirm it. Peter shook his head once and then raced after his brother. If they could just get clear of the Giants and find a narrow ravine, one too small for the Giants to enter, that would be all right.
"No! I need them alive, you idiots!"
Peter started to look over his shoulder to see what was going to kill him when he stumbled as Oreius shoved him out of the way. A large spear clattered to the rocks just in front of them. He placed a hand to his sleeve but felt nothing save the torn fabric. It hadn't even caught his skin, thank Aslan.
Oreius was still beside him but he also appeared to be uninjured. The Giants rallied again. The three of them ran. Oreius, however, fell further back, intimidating the Giants and harrying them as best he could.
It seemed hours passed before they finally entered a ravine with enough twists, turns, and narrow almost claustrophobic walls. The Giants' curses and shouts faded from hearing after a long while. But it was not until they came across another ravine that was cutting southeast instead of north that Peter allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. They were alive and relatively uninjured. He clapped Edmund on the shoulder and grinned. "Well, brother mine, that was not so bad this time."
His little brother snorted. "You clearly hit your head harder than I thought, Pevensie."
"We're alive."
"For now," Edmund muttered darkly. "Sun's nearly up."
"Good. Oreius, if it's only been a day since the attack-"
"Four."
Peter nodded, accepting the correction. "Then how long will it be before the next patrol follows our trail to the battlefield? Another three days? Or maybe five?"
Silence answered him. The brothers exchanged worried looks and then they spun to see Oreius. The Centaur was much further behind than Peter had first realized. His tanned skin had begun to take on an unnatural paleness and one of his hands was pressed over an ugly ragged wound that ran from his waist were man melded into horse to his barrel. The spear. Oh Aslan, the spear had not failed to hit a target after all.
"Oreius."
The Centaur raised his head, his mouth was pressed into a thin line, and then he grunted, "It is nothing. We must continue south and east toward the nearer of the border outposts."
"But your injury-"
"Can be treated at the outpost, Wolfsbane. Now, sir knights, keep moving."
Peter watched the General move forward, slowly but surely. He glanced at Edmund, still worried. His brother shook his head slightly and Peter nodded. They would have to wait before trying to persuade the Centaur to rest and let them tend his wounds with what little they could find.
The opportunity came before the sun had even risen from his bed long enough to fully illuminate the ravine. Oreius' steps had slowed over the last two hours and he faltered more but still refused to stop. Peter and Edmund could only watch as the General leaned more heavily against the rough stone walls of the ravine, sweat, lather, and blood leaving a trail in his wake. Watching the Centaur's stiff movements, Peter feared Oreius had received more injuries than the wound from the spear although that seemed to be the most severe one at the moment. Finally, as they rounded a bend where a shallow stream flowed from the base of a narrow waterfall, Oreius stumbled but this time he could not compensate. The Centaur collapsed heavily on his side and Peter heard an ominous crack.
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A/N: Please Read and Review! Muwhaahaahaaahaaa! Babur appears courtesy of WillowDryad, who was nice enough to let me borrow him. Hopefully, she will not mind that I kinda broke him this time. O.o Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one!