Chapter 3
After what seemed like an eternity, Peter stumbled out into a clearing, where he found Lucy amusing herself by pulling smooth rocks out of a brook for use in slingshots. Her older brother could hear her humming a little tune that sounded like it was being made up as she went along. He sucked in several short, quick breaths as he rushed to her side, pulling her up suddenly. Immediately, the look in her eyes made him regret startling her, but there wasn't time for anything, just safety.
"Lucy, you've got to get back to Cair Paravel. Now. The giants are heading this way. I won't have you on the battlefield." His wide eyes wordlessly emphasized his point.
She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. "But Peter—"
"No, Lucy. It's my responsibility to make sure that you and the others stay safe, and the best way for me to do that is to pull superiority and insist that you get back to the castle." She remained looking up at him with big, sad eyes, and he heaved a great sigh. "Just keep your cordial close by, alright? I'll send someone when you can help."
The girl turned away and muttered something he couldn't quite catch, but Peter was in no mood for arguments right now. "Will you just do it, please, Lu? Work with me on this one. I've got to go find the others. The battle is already practically underway!" And with that, he gently pushed her off in the direction of their royal home and spun around in search of the rest of those under his charge.
Edmund. He had to find Edmund. Peter shook his head. No. Edmund could take care of himself for a time. He needed to find Susan first, get her out of imminent danger. She might protest, as Lucy had, but—Battles are ugly when women fight. The phrase flashed through his mind, and he nodded as he had when Father Christmas first said it. If she protested, he would use the phrase on her. Peter caught a glimpse through the trees of the blue hunting dress he had seen her in earlier, and sprinted again in that direction. As he ran, he could hear the bellowing of the giants as they drew closer. Not even pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, he leapt over rocks and around scattered brush.
"Susan!" He took hold of her arm to spin her around, noticing she was already fitting an arrow in her bow.
Her eyes darkened at his interruption. "Peter, what are you doing?"
"Getting you out of here, Su. At least go to the top of the ridge, where you're out of the immediate battle.
Her blue eyes flashed. "Peter, I—" But she was stopped cold at the heat in his own eyes.
"Don't argue with me, Susan. Mum told me to take care of you, and I mean to do just that." He caught her rolling her eyes and pressed on, resisting the urge to shake her. "Besides, don't you remember what Father Christmas told us? Battles are ugly when women fight. I don't want you down here. The giants are already closing in. Leave the combat to us, and join the archers, will you?"
He saw the hurt in her face at his brusque tone, but he also saw understanding for the situation. She knew the responsibility that he, as High King, needed to bear. At least, she knew of it. And she knew that what he said was true, and it was her responsibility to obey. Nodding briefly, she did as she was bidden and made her way to the top of the ridge, where other fauns, satyrs, and centaurs were readying their bows.
From his vantage point near the top of the valley, he stared down into it. He could already see dwarves and various animals scattering in all directions. Instinctively, he scanned through the trees for his brother, clad in his customary scarlet and silver armor.
The young man drew in a swift breath as the loud splashing of a giant crossing the river momentarily distracted him, exhaling slowly only when it was followed by an angry shout as the giant discovered one of their pits the hard way.
"Peter! Peter!"
His subconscious zeroed in on the sound of his name being called above the other ruckus. He whirled toward it, eyes wide, searching.
Edmund burst into the area where the High King was in a full sprint, pulling up short when he saw his brother standing there.
"Peter!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "What happened?"
The elder swallowed and shook his head. "They came too quickly. I—"
He was cut off as a crash sounded out, followed closely by a second, and both boys spun to see another giant disappear from the waist down, while the first one, in a clumsy attempt to escape from his hole, happened to grab the release for a series of trees the beavers had weakened. This time, he went down and did not get back up.
Peter and Edmund looked at each other, and the younger managed a grave smile.
"Well, at least the traps are working," he murmured, and Peter could do no more than nod dumbly as he gazed in the direction where the giants had gone down.
Hoof beats could be heard behind them, and the familiar noise snapped Peter out of his brain-numbing shock. He whirled around the find Oreius heading their way.
"Your Majesty!" The two words from snapped across to the young man over the other crashing and shouts. He turned wide eyes up to the general's face, not surprised to see his expression grim.
"The first attack seems to be working, but the ditches won't keep them down for long. I would suggest, my liege, that you bring the gryphons through as soon as possible. We want to keep the damage the giants are bound to incur at a minimum."
Peter nodded dumbly—again. Why did it seem like that was all he was doing? He didn't feel prepared for this at all, and he hated it. It irked him more than the faces Edmund would make sometimes. He had always been the golden boy, always had things sorted. But now, now he felt practically helpless in the face of the intruding battle, in a country he barely understood yet was expected to take complete responsibility for and somehow lead into this war. The High King sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly.
"Okay," he said finally. Something hardened in his eyes, and he was no longer, at least for the moment, the frightened, inexperienced thirteen-year-old. It was a growing up instant, and both persons at his side noticed as he threw his shoulders back and stood up straight. "Okay," he repeated, but this time it wasn't tinged with resignation. It was merely a beginning, for in the next breath he was spitting out commands.
"Oreius, you're right. I need you to assemble the gryphons and make sure they're prepared. Then, wait for my signal." The centaur bowed and galloped away, and Peter spun to face his brother. "Ed, keep your sword on you, but right now I want you to get up and stand with the archers." Edmund frowned, clearly about to insist that he should be here, with Peter, on the front lines, but the elder held up a hand. "I'll need you soon enough. But it's important right now for me to know where you are."
Understanding dawned on the boy's dark features, and he nodded briefly and ran in the direction of his sister and other creatures that were at the top of the ridge.
Peter himself whirled back around to gaze into the valley, and his features took on a grave expression. Then, without warning, he took off down towards the traps, towards the ditches, towards the giants. In other words, he was running straight towards danger. But he needed to get all animals, dryads, and other beings out away from where the gryphons were going to be coming through. And once his subjects were safe, then he could initiate the next attack. His own safety didn't matter in the meantime.
Is anyone reading this meager attempt at putting my two cents into Narnia? Please let me know what you think!
