Collision
It is well that war is so terrible - otherwise we would grow too fond of it.
~Robert E. Lee
They sat for a while on the table next to him, but the night was cold, so cold. Susan suggested walking and they wondered back and forth between the stone table and the woods, their hearts like lead. They stopped on the eastern edge of the hill and looked over the rippling, endless sea. The sky was lit with a rosy hue, touching the clouds and the silvery waves. The next moment the edge of the sun began to creep above the horizon, casting light before it.
To the left, far, far away in the distance, they could see a dark shape on a hill. They knew at once that it was Cair Paravel, the castle at the mouth of the Great River.
"Susan," Lucy whispered, "I'm so scared."
Susan hugged her, how could she say that she, too, was scared? Terrified. The sun rose in burning glory above them, illuminating the world. They looked back towards the Stone Table; the standing stones threw long stark shadows across the ground. How could she say that she had no hope? And that was worse, far worse than any other feeling she had ever known.
A distant drumming came through the woods and the next moment two horsemen burst into the clearing and reined in.
"Susan! Lucy!"
It was Peter and Edmund.
They swung off their horses and walked toward the girls slowly.
"As-" Susan began.
"We know," Peter said heavily. "Loki told us, he was here last night."
"There's nothing can be done?" Lucy asked, beginning to cry again. Her favorite brother picked her up and held her close.
"We'll do all we can, Lucy," he said softly, "there's always hope."
Edmund swung aboard Umbra and held a hand to Susan so she could get up behind him, then he galloped from the clearing. Peter and Lucy followed.
"So what's to be done?" Susan asked as Ambyr caught up Umbra.
"I've done it," Peter said, "I've sent out the Calvary to find those hills Aslan told us about. We'll move the army there as soon as the messengers arrive."
~o*o~
When they arrived in the camp, it was broad daylight. Lucy was in a state of tears and Susan put her to bed. Eustace stayed by her, he wasn't really well enough to do anything else.
No one in the camp really knew what happened. Peter decided that, in order to help morale, the details ought to be withheld, but everyone knew that Aslan was gone and it horrified all.
The rest of the morning was spent dismantling the camp and packing it away in the carts and it was noon when a messenger arrived, saying that the place Aslan had spoken of had been found.
It was slow going, despite them having found a real road on which to travel. It was hot, dusty; the mud of yesterday was merely a memory. It was a beautiful day, almost spiteful. There were great green fields full of poppies and daisies, swaying in the sun and in the distance; they could see the misty outline of Cair Paravel, the gray lady on the hill with the sea laughing at her feet.
Peter sent scouts ahead and they returned, saying that the enemy had already begun to assemble across a great green field in front of the river, covered by a forest of trees.
"We'll ride ahead," Peter said, "Susan? Lucy?"
"We'll come." Susan said, Lucy was silent.
"Martin," Peter said, "I want the army moving faster, I know it's hard, but it must be done. We must secure the ground as Aslan told us."
They rode ahead. A small group of horsemen went with them. The horses were sluggish and lagged and it was hard, especially for Lucy, to keep them moving at a good speed. Ahead of them, the ground seemed flat, sloping only slightly. They could see a few hills to the right and Peter told them that the larger one was Beruna. They passed into forest again, but the trees were very thin. Very soon they came out on a hill with a few stark trees silhouetted against the sky. Here the Calvary was entrenched. A few stray arrows from an enemy just beyond the ridge rained down on them.
The leader of the Calvary, a tall black centaur came galloping towards them.
"Sire!"
"Ahearn!" Peter said, dismounting and motioning to the others to do the same. "How goes it?"
"Well enough, we've pretty well stopped them in their tracks. They've crossed the river and they were trying to cross that plain, but we have been able to drive them back." Ahearn replied, "I think that if they knew how few there are of us then they would not be so cautious."
"There will be reinforcements very soon," Peter said calmly. "You have done well. Our battle will be fought here, on these ridges."
How could he be calm? Edmund wondered.
"We must take Beruna…and that little hill next to it, as soon as possible." Peter said.
"We're spread out too thin, sire," Ahearn said.
"I realize that," Peter said. "I was only thinking aloud. What are the positions of the enemy?"
"That small hill over there, Wolf Hill I believe it's called, and that line of woods before the river." Ahearn said. "I fear they outnumber us greatly."
"Numbers don't win battles," Peter said, squinting into the sun at the hazy outline of Wolf Hill. "We've only got to stick here and wait. We must not let them gain control of these heights."
~o*o~
A Gryphon carried a chipmunk, who was a master sculptor, aloft and the chipmunk recreated an accurate map of the area out of clay and sand. It was placed in a tent with the flaps rolled up to give light to the subject. Little flags marked the positions of each Narnian regiment and the general positions of the enemy.
"We'll put a division on the ridge below Wolf Hill. I can't let the enemy come down there and flank us." Peter said, staring down at the map.
"What about Beruna?" Edmund said.
"I know," Peter said, "We must put someone up there too, but the enemy hasn't made a move toward Beruna yet. Martin!"
"Sire?"
"You will take a Regiment and drive the enemy off the ridge below Wolf Hill; do as you think is best. If you can take the hill, do so."
"Yes sire."
Martin looked very noble and strong as he bowed and strode from the tent. They watched him break into a canter and disappear beyond a stores tent, chestnut tail streaming.
"He'll be one changed centaur when all is through," Eustace said calmly as they watched him canter away.
"What do you mean?" Edmund asked.
"No one can have anything to do with the Witch and not be a mental case afterwards. I think she's a mental case herself."
They watched as the companies fell together into a regiment and they watched Martin tall, proud, magnificent gallop away to the head of them. There was the sound of tramping feet and man after man, animal after animal, marched past them, saluting proudly.
"What will happen to them?" Lucy asked as she watched them go.
"They'll hold the ridge," Peter said calmly. "And try to take the hill."
~o*o~
The battle for Wolf Hill was the first real action on the day, of the war actually. It was hard fighting, real fighting, something even Martin had never experienced. Those brave creatures on that ridge suddenly saw life and death and they held fast, even with the odds were against them. The casualties of the day were great, but they took the ridge. The hill eluded them.
Peter sent as many reinforcements as he could and they watched in horror as the wounded limped back into the main camp. Susan worked hard over them that night. She was too numb to be bothered the bloody gashes and wounds. She had been so frightened before, wondering how she would react to the war wounds; but she needn't have worried, it hardly fazed her. Blood stained the walls of the tents like rust and the cries of the wounded filled the air. The tent flaps rippled in the night wind sending cold fingers among the wounded.
Lucy slipped into the tent, her eyes wide.
Calls came from all sides and the rest of the night, she held the hands of the wounded and gave them drinks of water. Somehow, the sight of her made them fight for life. Little Lucy in dusty green velvet, her golden curls and smile, despite everything.
She talked to them, about happy things; she told them stories about her world, her stay in Archenland, her great trek across Narnia. She sang for them, her voice was high, soprano, like a choir singer. It made that bloody canvas tent more like a cathedral then a place to store wounded soldiers.
~o*o~
Lucy could bare it no longer and slipped away from the tent to sit beneath one of the giant Elms. The moon was high, silver, making every blade of grass stark and intricate. She could see the huge valley below them, the dark line of trees, the river, glowing like liquid silver. She could see the bridge the enemy had built out of rafts across the river.
She felt defeat, it was defeat despite victory. Aslan was dead. Everyone was hopeless, hollow. Peter had a great task ahead of him; he must hold together a spiritless army. A daunting task for a man and a daunting task for a boy of but seventeen.
