Chapter 4
I still don't own Narnia….
Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy rode to the Witch's house accompanied by several of the centaurs. They pulled up in the courtyard and dismounted and Edmund took a deep breath to steady himself as he started ascending the steps to the castle door. It was the first time he had made this journey since that fateful night all those years ago. For a moment he was a boy again, the freezing wind blowing through his clothes, his socks soaked with snow. As Susan had said, she and Lucy had come here with Aslan during the battle, and Peter had come here afterwards and ransacked the place, searching for any prisoners who may had been overlooked in the hurry, and destroying any artefacts that could be potentially dangerous. But Edmund had not been back at all, and now it felt like a make or break journey. It would either be cathartic, or it would bring the memories screaming back. He wasn't at all sure which he deserved.
As they entered the castle, the musty smell of disuse and the thick layer of dust were like walking into a wall. Lucy coughed and gagged and Susan looked dismayed at the size of the job ahead of them.
"This be quicker if we split up", said Peter, his voice echoing around the enormous chamber. "Susan, you go with Oreius into the west wing, I'll take the East, Lucy can go back outside and cover the courtyard-" here Lucy nodded gratefully, "and Ed, you scout around here."
Edmund watched as the others headed away from him, their echoing footsteps fading away. He was alone, the great hall looming around him. He knew he should be starting a search, but for a moment he stood at the foot of the steps leading up to the Witch's throne. There she had sat and looked at him as though he were vermin. From that throne she had called her wolves and told them to murder his brothers and sisters. Edmund felt the bile rise in his throat and the shame made him close his eyes.
Averting his gaze from the throne he looked upwards; he had never really had a chance to look around this place properly and in the daylight and he wondered suddenly how the Witch had built this place. It was a curious mix of grandeur and rough edges, the castle seeming to rise from within the living rock itself. The throne sat underneath a huge arch of marble white rock, covered with ruches and jagged edges, giving the appearance of an enormous pair of solid white stage curtains. As Edmund stared at the arch the edges seems to swim in his vision, forming shapes and images. Then he saw it.
"Peter!" he shouted, "Susan, Lucy, come here!"
The others gathered around him and followed his shaking finger.
Near the top of the arch as it curved towards the centre the ruches took on more of a shape, the folds and creases of a dress, albeit one that had been covered with a thick layer of stone. Outspread arms like the figurehead of a ship rose above it, long hair fanned out around the merest suggestion of a face.
"Oreius – we need something to break her out."
"A pickaxe?" suggested Susan
"No, that may go straight through and hurt her. A mallet?" Edmund questioned the centaur. Oreius nodded and turned to one of the other centaurs who brought him a large wooden mallet from the bag of tools they had carried.
Oreius mounted the steps and stood as close and he could to the arch. The centaur reared up onto his hind legs and swung the mallet against the marble, aiming low so that any damage should happen to the girl's legs rather than her body or head.
Thud.
Thud. A tiny shower of dust.
Thud.
Thud.
Oreius lowered himself to the ground and flexed his legs before raising himself up again.
Thud.
Thud. The marble started to fracture.
Thud.
Thud.
With an ear-splitting crack a huge chuck fell away and a figure fell in a ungraceful swallow dive out of the exposed hollow in the rock. Oreius caught her deftly in one arm and laid her on the floor. She lay on her side, shaking, almost convulsing with cold.
"Your cordial Lucy, quick"
Lucy dashed forward and gently dropped a splash of her cordial onto the girl's blue lips. With a shudder she lay still and Edmund carefully laid his cloak over her. She was thinner than in his last dream, although still wearing the thin black gown, her arms like matchsticks and her face more gaunt than he had ever seen it. Her long hair was lank and greasy and most of it was plastered to her face and neck. He could see bloodstains around her upper arms and her fingernails were worn down to the quick. Edmund bent over her, feeling her pulse.
"We must get her back to Cair Paravel." Susan said with urgency " She needs food and water and a warm bed."
Edmund gathered the girl up in his arms and carried her out to Phillip who stood very still as he and Peter sat her across the front of the saddle. Peter carefully held her in place as Edmund mounted. Edmund wrapped an arm firmly around her and turned for home.
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