I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies, but Shauna owns my soul so here, have a chapter. Hurrah, a little bit of my old speed is back...
Actually, it wasn't so much a scream as it was a shout, but it certainly caught Lucy's attention. Unfortunately, as quickly as it had shattered the silence she had previously inhabited, it ended, leaving her with little clue as to its origins; she was sure it had come from somewhere below her, but the castle was too large for such a vague direction to be much help. Her first thought was for Edmund, who she knew to be somewhere around there. Her second thought was for Peter, who (if he had heard the noise) would be dashing stupidly into whatever peril his younger brother had gotten himself into.
Whirling around, one hand on her dagger, she hurried into the hallway from the bedroom she'd been searching and took off towards the stairwell. She encountered no resistance from the few castle people that she passed. Most of them just shifted to one side as she hurtled past them, face white with fear, booted feet pounding on the stone floor. The stairs she took two at a time, nearly missing the last one and colliding with a grotesque old woman whose skin, when she brushed against, felt like ice. Then with a hasty apology she was flying out into the lower corridor that led to the cellar, eyes darting to and fro, looking desperately for any sign of either brother.
Peter she found first as he came bounding around the corner a few minutes later, soaked to the bone from his outdoor search. His eyes found her instantly and she was swiftly crushed in a tight, relieved (but quite wet) hug before his face again twisted in worry and without a word they both raced towards the cellars. They burst through the doors a moment later and plunged into the damp, cool belly of the castle, which smelled deeply of wine and rot.
"Ed!" Lucy called worriedly, as if repeating it for the hundredth time would somehow change the answer. It didn't.
"Edmund!" yelled Peter hoarsely. The sound seemed to be swallowed by the towering barrels that lined the narrow pathways they were forced to traverse. He had his sword out though not a soul could be seen. His still-dripping face was pale, his recently dulled blue eyes lit with panic as he and Lucy tried to grow accustomed to the gloom. For ten frantic minutes they stumbled around the dark room, searching, until at last Lucy caught sight of a dark shape slumped against a wall, hastily wedged between some of the barrels.
"Oh, Ed," she breathed, dropping to her knees and pulling his limp body into her lap. Peter had appeared at her side within an instant, and even in the bad light she could see how scared he was.
Suddenly, the younger of her two brothers gave a small groan and shifted in her arms. It was hard to make out his injuries, but Lucy didn't feel any broken bones, so she tolerated his attempts to move.
"Ed, what happened?" Peter asked, his voice tight. Edmund let out a very un-Eddish whimper.
"Peter," said Lucy. "We ought to get out of this bad air, it's awfully damp in here and…"
"I know," he interrupted. He reached over her and pulled Edmund into his own lap, then picked the smaller boy up and staggered to his feet. Lucy followed suit. Edmund's head had lolled onto Peter's shoulder, something which she knew he would never let happen if he were fully conscious. It worried her, but she didn't have time to worry about that at the moment; they obviously had enemies somewhere in the castle and the sooner they got away from them the better. But just as Peter set off towards the crack of light that filtered in from the doorway, Lucy caught sight of something glinting dimly on the floor. It was a green ring. She picked it up and tucked it into her own pocket but couldn't help but wonder where the yellow was…
The corridor outside the cellars was thankfully deserted. But, knowing that the rest of the castle wouldn't be, the minute they reached the stairway to the main levels, Peter and Lucy doubled their speed, taking the steps two at a time and hurrying towards the chambers they'd been shown to before. The further they got, the more restless Edmund became, squirming in his brother's strong but trembling arms as he was borne to safety, head tossing from side to side, noises of protest escaping his slightly-parted lips. It was only when they slowed down to turn into the final hallway that Lucy caught sight of several dark marks upon his throat, but she didn't have time to ponder what they might be or how they might have gotten there because she was pushing the door open for Peter and standing aside.
The instant they were inside, Lucy slammed the door shut and looked around for something with which to bar it. Peter hurriedly laid his brother down upon the one bed, stepped over to the wall and took a grip on the long, metal rod that held up a drab tapestry. Lucy, her back to the door as if the skeletal people would barge in any minute, watched the muscles in his arms stand out like cords as he gritted his teeth and, with one final grunt of effort, wrenched it from its bolted place in the stone wall. He passed it to her and she slid it through the door handle, effectively barring the door. Both panting, they turned to Edmund, on his back on the bed.
He had obviously been jumped too quickly for him to make use of his sword; it still rested in its sheath. His armor had probably prevented most of the worst blows. But his neck and head, which had had no protection, were a mess of blacks and blues, his lip split and bleeding, and a shallow cut behind his left ear. Lucy quickly took a look at the marks she'd caught a glimpse of before, the ones on his neck. To her horror, they appeared to be finger-shaped bruises, but left by very thin, bony fingers, as if one of the castle people had attempted to strangle her brother, and she couldn't stop the images that leaked into her protesting mind, of Edmund fighting for his life in that damp, dark prison of a room, all alone.
Peter had brought over the basin of water that most castles provided guests with so that they might freshen themselves. Swallowing, Lucy pulled her handkerchief from the satchel she'd left in the room earlier and dipped in the water, sliding onto the bed beside Edmund and leaning across him to gently wipe away the blood that had dried on his chin. His features contorted slightly at the cool touch.
"It's all right, Edmund," she soothed. "Just lie back, we're here."
"Lu," he murmured in recognition. He seemed just on the edge of awareness, tottering somewhere between awaking and unconsciousness. She made a noise of reassurance and continued to carefully tend to his wounds. But his lips moved again suddenly, though no sound came out. She desisted in her ministrations for a moment to let him try again, and when he did, it was a hoarse whisper of, "Ring."
Feeling incredibly apprehensive, Lucy drew one glove from her belt and reached into Edmund's belt pouch with it upon her hand. And just as she had expected, it was empty. The yellow ring was gone.
