Title: Beneath the Traitor Sun
Summery: An eclipse, a reformed traitor, and an ancient myth all come together as the Free Narnians make their next move. To bad that remnants of the Witch's army have a similar plan. Sequel to King's Bane.
Author: Ultra-Geek
Disclaimer: Right. Because obviously if I owned Chronicles of Narnia I'd be writing fanfiction…puh-lease…I own nothing.
Rating: T
AN – So, at my school, we had this nasty cold going around. For three of the five school days this week, about twenty-five percent of the population at my school was out. (Yes, I was one of them). Now, this kid who sits behind me in one of my classes yesterday was all, "Yeah, I have strep throat, and even though I'm still contagious I came in today. Now, Ultra-Geek's throat is ten different types of sore, and my stomach's all nasty. I hate High School. It's like a breeding ground for SICK. Anyway…

I've decided that I'm not going to do a quote for every chapter. There's that one in the last chapter that's just kind of omnipotent (that's right; the quote knows all, sees all, hears all! Fear it!)

...I just went back and read that Author's Note, and I realized just how much cold medicine messes with my head. I hate cold medicine...

"The Traitor Sun draws near, Rannoch," Tibus said, neck craning up towards the sky. The young centaur pawed the ground. "I would give it three days, minimum."

The stag nodded once. "Then we strike in two days time, at noon," he said seriously. "That should give us enough time to get to the Table. Send word to Ritnik to be ready. I will get the others prepared."

Tibus sighed and nodded. "Yes, Rannoch," he said with the air of a student talking to a despised school master. Then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. "It is said that the High King is very…protective of the traitor."

Rannoch cocked his head slightly to the side. "Your point, Tibus?"

"Perhaps it would be easier for our goal if he were to be out of the way tomorrow. The High King, I mean. I have some friends. Friends who are sympathetic with our cause. They have been travelling with Oreius' guard as he keeps the peace in the Western Wood. Perhaps," Tibus spoke while keeping an eye on Rannoch's immobile face, "Perhaps a false alarm to get him out of the castle? A threat that is perhaps seen and over exaggerated, in order to get High King Peter from the Cair? It would serve our purpose, Rannoch."

"That…that it would," the stag said after a long, silent moment. "That it would."

Mikhail fidgeted nervously from claw to claw. He anxiously pruned his feathers with his beak, and kept watch with a single golden eye. The griffin stopped in his pruning and glanced at his reflection in a particularly shiny vase. Oh, was he ashamed of his appearance! His golden feathers stuck in every which direction, and the dirt beneath his talons would have sent his mother – Aslan rest her – into a complete and utter tizzy Without warning, Mikhail was struck with a sudden panic that he had lost his message. He glanced down at his leg and his heart froze in horror. It was gone!

His heart resumed its normal pace as he remembered that the General's letter was strapped to his other leg. He sighed wearily in relief and slumped slightly as he took in the welcomed sight of the scroll. Mikhail wondered if he should untie it now to present to High King Peter. No, no, he chided himself silently, that wouldn't do! They may accuse him of tampering with it.

Mikhail hung his head and groaned. Why couldn't had Oreius sent this letter of "utmost importance" with Krypin as he usually did? As the Roost Captain of the griffins, Krypin was accustomed to dealing with Narnia's royalty. Mikhail, for lack of a better word, wasn't. However, he was the fastest and well-rested of the griffins. At the time, it had seemed like a glorious idea.

"Yes, yes," he had told Oreius and Krypin without hesitation, "Of course I can handle taking a letter to Cair Paravel!"

The General had fixed him with a deadly stare. "This is of utmost importance, Lieutenant," he had said. Mikhail had listened with just as much sobriety – he had refused to spoil this mission due to lack of attention. "Deliver it straight into the hands of High King Peter and no other. It concerns the safety of one of the other monarchs, and if not read could mean death. Do you understand?"

"Yes, General Oreius, Sir!" Mikhail had exclaimed with almost glee. He wondered which of his rulers he was saving. So intent had he been on his mission – oh, mother would have been so proud! – that his mind hadn't actually processed the fact that he would have to talk to the High King upon his arrival.

But, standing in the quiet stillness of the Cair, it was all that his thoughts sung about. He was going to have to talk. To High King Peter the Magnificent. As in, Mikhail would have to actually exchange words with him. In his mind, he quickly went over things that he shouldn't say and the things that he should.

As he rehearsed his words, Mikhail failed to notice that the door behind him had opened and a very tired, very harassed looking Peter was coming towards him with several of the palace staff clambering around his feet. "Well?"

Mikhail's head jerked abruptly upwards as he spun around to face the King. "Your Majesty!" he said, and bowed low.

The King sighed, and said, "Rise, good griffin. I'm told that you have an important message from General Oreius for me?"

"Yes, Sire. I mean, Majesty. I mean –"

"The letter?"

"Oh, yes, it's right here," Mikhail said as he awkwardly stuck one of his legs out. One of the staff – a badger – who accompanied King Peter came forward and untied it before handing it to the king

Peter broke the wax seal on the scroll and began reading the contents. Several tense minutes went by, and with each Peter's face grew paler. "Oh, Aslan," he whispered, "Why now?" Mikhail had to suppress the effort to ask what the letter was about

"Your Majesty?" one of the staff asked.

High King Peter looked up distractedly and seemed to remember where he was. "Would you prepare the library for me?" he asked, an odd note coloring his voice. "Along with Sir Giles, I think. And perhaps the Beavers if they haven't left for their Dam yet."

"Yes, Majesty," the staff member said, bowing and scampering off.

The High King turned and, just as quickly as he came, disappeared.

Mikhail let out a sigh. He had hardly been able to form a complete sentence. His mother was probably rolling about in her grave…

Uthur the Minotaur trudged loudly through the camp. All around him remnants of his White Lady's army stirred. Some stoked fires, other sharpened swords. The sounds of fell creatures readying themselves for battle filled the air. The camp was muddy, the grass trampled and beaten to its death. The entire place smelled of death, decay, and evil.

However, he could not enjoy the sight as he usually did. The scents or sounds could sooth him as they would have any other day. No, right now he had to inform his Captain about those pesky centaurs.

"Sir," he bellowed. Another Minotaur, this one with more of a tawny fur color, turned and faced him. "I have news."

"Report," said the tawny Minotaur, Falot.

"We were tracked by three centaurs, but we led them to the decoy camp," Uthur said. "Then, I had Crix and Zaa follow them back. They reported to the General called Oreius. They sent a griffin towards their castle."

"Is that all?" Falot asked, and then pressed on without waiting for an answer, "Dismissed."

"Sir, there's something else," said Uthur, "We must strike now. If they are moving, then the Queen's murderer could possibly escape –"

Falot shook his head harshly. "No. We strike when the sun itself is smote by shadow. We strike when their precious Lion can not walk in Narnia. We strike beneath the Traitor Sun."

So…there is literally no Edmund in this chapter. My bad! But it was necessary, I swear! Review anyway?