Chapter 7

Thank you to all the reviewers so far especially Miniver - your comments have really encouraged me to keep this going. As someone who's totally new to writing it's lovely to hear that my stories are well received and reviews are really useful. Hint, hint.

Angela was pacing the first floor corridor, stopping every so often to look out of the windows. The courtyard below was a flurry of activity. Several catapults had been thoroughly checked over before being lined up at the gates ready to roll out across the countryside. Ammunition was being packed and secured onto carts. Everywhere people were donning their battle dress and arming themselves, and Naiads and Dryads were stocking saddlebags with food. Peereep presided over everything from his vantage point atop a pile of crates.

Angela couldn't help but think this was all too soon, too rushed. She had found Pevensie much more amenable over the last few days but there was still that streak of arrogance, that 'I know best' demeanour that in London had been simply irritating but here was quite literally a matter of life and death. She wished he would stop and reconsider but a part of her knew he was simply trying to live up to the Narnian's expectations and was feeling the pressure of being thrust back into this role so suddenly. There was no reasoning with him. But over the last few days she'd learned much about this history of this place and she knew that Narnia hadn't been at war since Trumpkin was a young dwarf. The people here had all grown up in a time of peace and none of them had had any training for battle.

She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Pevensie standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a leather tunic under some simple armour and he held his helmet in his hand. Despite his dress he looked terribly young. The last time he went to war he was just a boy.

"You're leaving soon, aren't you?"

"Later today we'll ride. Everything is almost prepared now; I'm just waiting for Peereep to give me word that they're ready."

"I don't suppose there's any point in asking you to wait a few days?"

"We're not going to the border immediately. We'll stop at a place called Aslan's How to plan our strategy. There's more room there for sparring."

Angela sighed. A question had been at the back of her mind since they had seen the door in the cellar and she voiced it now.

"What if something happens to you? What about your parents?"

"Ed and Lucy will guess where I am. I'm sure they'll think of something to tell Mother and Dad." Pevensie's voice almost cracked and Angela regretted bringing it up.

"Take this anyway." She thrust a small package she'd put together for him into his hands.

"What's this?" Pevensie looked intrigued as he held it up and wrinkled his nose "It smells funny"

Angela laughed at his expression.

"It's just a few herbs I picked from the castle grounds. They're all useful for pain relief and preventing infection in wounds. Just in case." She shuddered at the thought of them being needed at all.

"Impressive. How did you know which ones to pick?"

"Good old Aunty." At his questioning look she explained "My parents are, well, they died when I was very young, so I was sent to live with my Great Aunt." Angela shook her head at his sudden look of sympathy. "It's fine, really, I don't remember them, and she was great fun to grow up with. She's one of those women who, well, she's not exactly conventional. She always said one should be prepared for anything. I wasn't allowed to leave the house without a penknife and some matches, and I remember once I stung my leg on some nettles and she insisted that I spot a dock leaf myself before she'd pick it for me."

Pevensie chuckled "that explains a lot"

Angela gave him a gentle shove and smiled to herself

"To tell you the truth I never thought her lessons would come in so useful."

He and stroked the parcel with his thumb, a contemplative look on his face. Angela gazed out of the window again and saw one of the centaurs kneeling on the ground checking his bow. He looked up and smiled as his wife brought him a leather pouch of food, and reached up to gently touch her face. Angela felt her heart twist at the thought of him leaving her behind.

"They're not soldiers, Peter." She said softly.

"I know." He hung his head and sighed. ""I don't see any other choice though." He straightened up and turned to leave the room.

"Wait." Angela whipped round "Please – please be careful."

Pevensie looked hard at her before striding back across the room and tugging her to him with one arm. He held her tight for a moment and then turned and left without another word.


The Calormenes raced across the desert, urging their horses over the dunes, a cloud of sand and dust rising around them. The Tarkheen had his orders and knew time was of the essence.


Angela, Trumpkin and Urnus watched from the castle door as the soldiers marched out of the grounds and across the drawbridge.

Peter was mounted on a unicorn and as Angela watched his retreating back she found she suddenly couldn't bear the thought of him not returning. When did this happen? When did he stop being Pevensie, or Sire, or that-arrogant-idiot-I-work-for and start being just Peter?,

She was startled out of her reverie by Urnus who took her arm and led her back inside.

"Come Milady. We must prepare the castle for attack. We are at war now and it doesn't do to be complacent and leave ourselves unprotected."

A/N - I think I may have stolen the 'They're not soldiers' line from somewhere but can't for the life of me think where. LOTR...??

Anyway - R&R please!