Silver and Gold Crowns

The attack came out of nowhere.

The darkness of the night shattered as a hail of flaming arrows arced through the sky and descended on our small band of Narnians. A quarter of the band had no chance even to draw their weapons, cut down as they tried to tend to the wounded civilians. The remaining forces were thrown into confusion, scrambling about on the broken ground, trying desperately to avoid stepping on their fallen companions. Screams of Great Cats and the baying of Dogs, and the howling of Wolves mingled and filled the air.

I had just enough time to draw Faolán and sling my shield onto my arm before the next wave of arrows came. How I wished I wore more than the light leather armor! Flames took root in the broken roofs of the houses and shot up faster than I imagined possible. Had someone expected us? Poured flammable stuffs into the thatch?

"NARNIA! To arms!"

The roar of King Peter's voice rolled over the night, bringing clarity to my startled mind. I joined the Narnians who charged toward the voice of the High King. In a moment, I saw him, standing tall and golden in the light of the angry flames, the battle lust in his eyes. Beside him was King Edmund, as calm and cool as though he were about to take tea with his sisters. I smiled despite myself.

"Form ranks, Narnians! Jaer, the right flank, Edmund the left. I will hold center. Eagles and Grphons to the sky. Now!"

The Narnians needed no further orders. Our small companies fell into order behind us as the flyers took to the skies. It felt strange, not having Jaerin beside me, or knowing he was among the archers. But I was glad. He was not yet ready for a battle such as this looked to be.

But I did not have much time to think about that. A third shower of arrows descended, this one thinner than the others and practically ineffective. At least, that was what I thought at first. When I dropped my shield, a horde of men were charging at us.

Men. I thought we had dealt with all of the robber barons when we took out Alman. But no, these were not of the same. They did not hide their faces behind masks—but I almost wished they would.

"Charge!"

We were only a small party but we were under the command of the finest warriors this world had ever seen. In the battle against the White Witch, we had untrained boys for leaders and a fifth of the forces that she had. Against the Ettin Giants, we brought half the number. We were four against forty a fortnight since against Alman's brigands. We had no fear.

I beheaded the first warrior with a backhanded stroke and struck the second's sword-arm from his body without a thought. The third man was harder but he too fell to my blade. And then it was all blood and fire and fury. I had no time to think about what was happening, only to react. My companions disappeared, swept away from my side by the press of battle and I fought alone. The battle-rage niggled at the edges of my senses, offering me fresh strength, but I held back. Not yet. But perhaps soon. How dare these people invade our lands, strike down our people, and seek to destroy us! This was Narnia. This was my home. None would invade with impunity.

Suddenly, I heard a roar of fury and pain in a voice I knew well. Scarcely thinking, I whirled around and hurtled through the press. In an instant, I saw him. Peter was pinned against a burning house, six men attacking at once. An arrow protruded from his left shoulder—it must have been that that made him cry out. Across the way I saw Edmund, a whirlwind of silver in the fierce light of the fires, fighting toward his brother.

I too tried to reach them but someone leaped on my back in the midst of my distraction. Well, if he wanted to try that, so be it. I flipped him over my shoulder, using his own momentum against him and drove Faolán into his back. More men swept between me and my kings and I was pressed back. When I was free enough to look again, neither Peter nor Edmund were anywhere to be seen.

"Jaer!"

The snarl of a Great Cat caught my attention and I turned to see five men charging one of our Tigers. She was already wounded, three arrows in her flank but she fought back valiantly. Her partner was occupied by other soldiers and tried frantically to come to her aid. One man came at her from behind and brought his crossbow up. I snarled myself. Not while I was near.

Faolán sliced through his crossbow and quarrel like they were butter. My second stroke relieved him of his head. Now we formed a triangle, the two Tigers and I. It was not as good as having my brother at my back, but it would do.

I do not know how long we fought like that. Ash and arrows rained down from the sky, flames devoured all in their path, my arms grew weary and still the men came at us. I saw them cut down Tempest, a centaur who befriended me when first we came to Narnia, and then hack off his limbs once he was dead. I saw them disembowel my friends and leave them in agony. My anger grew, giving me new strength.

That was when I heard it. A cry that I had only heard once before in my life and begged Aslan that I would never hear again. The cry of King Edmund when his brother was cut down.

My companions heard it too and their ears pricked up. "Come cousins!" I cried. "To the kings!"

We charged recklessly toward the burning houses. The Tigers raced behind me, following in the path I cleared. I will never forget the sight I saw when I burst from the houses into a square of sorts. It haunts my dreams to this day.

Edmund stood in front of a smoldering hut, twin swords like circles of silver fire spinning on either side of him. He was burned and bloodied from a dozen wounds but his eyes were cold and hard. Deadly grace was in his hand and he cut down all who drew near. Yet he did not move his position even when it would have given him the advantage. My eyes searched for the High King and found him behind his brother. But Peter was not standing tall, fighting at his brother's back. Rather, he lay in a crumpled heap, crossbow quarrels sticking out of his arms and legs. I knew he was alive only because he managed to fling a dagger at a man that nearly slipped past Edmund's guard. But the dagger was poorly thrown and only wounded the man. It should have killed him.

I had thought I was angry before. I was not. Fury coursed through my veins like new wine and I flung myself against the enemy. First my friends and now my king. It was not to be borne. Faolán seemed to sing for joy as we cut our way through the hordes. The men parted before my wrath. In an instant, I found myself at Edmund's side with two snarling Tigers snapping at the enemy's flanks. The enemy fell back.

As soon as we arrived, Edmund dropped to his brother's side, checking for a pulse and carefully pulling some of the quarrels from his body. I stood over them, my sword ready in my hand. I heard him murmuring softly.

"Peter, Peter, Peter! Why do you have to be so blasted noble?"

"Keeps you in practice." My High King's words were fuzzy but carried his indomitable spirit nonetheless. Edmund gave a small choking laugh.

"You would." He looked up at me. "Jumped into a bloody batch of crossbowmen I hadn't seen. Took them out but not before they used him as a pincushion."

A sharp growl from my right alerted me to the rallying of our enemies. I looked to the skies, hoping for a glimpse of our flying cousins. But no swooping silhouettes showed themselves against the clouded sky. I could hear the battle still raging beyond the silent square but no Narnians broke through the burning houses.

"We can't stay here, Edmund," I said.

"I know." Edmund stood and shoved a lock of dark hair from his face. "Carve me a path, Jaer." And then he sheathed Shafelm IV and Tablesword II and bent back down to his brother. With strength that belied his slight frame, Edmund heaved Peter up.

"Kin walk, Ed," Peter slurred.

"And I can fly. Now!"

With the Tigers on our flanks, we charged. I do not think that they expected us to try that. We tore through them, fighting our way to the edge of the ambushed town. One of the Tigers fell before we got out of the square. The other almost reached the outskirts when a burning beam crashed down on his head. I wish I had known the names of those brave cousins.

Somehow, improbably, we reached the forest outside the town. Together Edmund and I turned to face the raging inferno. Still I could hear the cries of the soldiers who had followed us. I looked to my king.

Edmund's face was hard, hard as Blue River Steel and just as deadly. He looked once at his brother's face, pale and bloodied, vacant now with unconsciousness. Then he turned to me and gave me the weightiest charge in my life.

"Keep my brother safe."

And he handed Peter to me.