Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.
Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?
A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.
Chapter Ten: Find Hope
Nights in Ettinsmoor's barren canyons were cold, far colder than she was accustomed to when it was still early in Frostmoon. But the cold crept over the ground and sank into her, biting into her very roots with almost as much force as the axe wielded by fear. Thalia sat with her back against Bast's warm bulk but even the Tigress' presence did not bring comfort. She only reminded her of Peter's absence.
Thalia scanned the little makeshift camp. Lucy was curled up with the Greyback brothers snuggled on either side of her, completely immune to their snores and occasional whines and whimpers. Ptah was on watch and she could barely see his outline as he perched atop a large boulder. Babur was dozing near the horses, ensuring the silly beasts she and Lucy had ridden would not spook during the night and flee (for Pepin's training kept him patiently waiting). The General remained where they had found him. Though the cordial had healed his physical wounds, he still had not woken and there was the unspoken fear that he simply would not. The Princess Royal stayed by his side, barely eating, as she waited for him to show some sign of rising. Even now, though her breathing had slowed in sleep, the Princess Royal stayed with him, holding him in her arms so his head rested on her breast while she kept one hand over his heart, measuring every breath he took. Should there be any change in the Centaur's condition, she would know it immediately.
Thalia's own concern turned increasingly to her husband and her brother-in-law. Fell Giants were feared by Narnians. They had no respect for life, for Aslan's creation, or His sanctions protecting all sentient beings no matter their form. They destroyed, consumed, and despoiled. And they had Peter. She prayed to Aslan that the Giants would not uproot her strong oak. But fear and anxiety would not cease gnawing at her. The sense that time was running out hung on her like moss had crawled up her Tree and now dangled from the branches.
Rising silently, Thalia looked up at the half-moon then closed her eyes. A tug on her skirt interrupted her concentration. She looked down to meet the glowing eyes of Bast. The Tigress' teeth were clamped in her skirt. "Let go."
She did so but the look in her eyes was one that bespoke a predator only a breath away from pouncing. The Tigress' growl was low as she rasped, "You cannot leave."
Thalia glanced around, reassuring herself that no one else had awakened, then she crouched down to better face Bast. "I am the only scout who will not put them in danger."
"Wait."
"No. It will be two days tomorrow afternoon since the cordial was given to the General and he shows no sign of waking. The Giants could be at Harfang any day. We must find out where they are now."
"But the General-"
"Will not have new information."
Thalia rose once more but paused as Bast muttered, "The High King would not approve."
"Then he should not have been captured." Unwilling to wait another moment, she dispelled her corporeal form and rose into the night sky. She had to find them.
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The ground trembled beneath him a little as the jarring snores of fourteen Giants raked across his nerves. Peter didn't move as he stared up at the night sky. The Giantesses had forced him and Ed to lie down between them and they had placed their purses in the space between their feet and their heads, successfully blocking the brothers in, and the ribbons that were still tied around their necks were also wrapped around the Giantesses' wrists. Peter reached up one hand to tug at the knot, taking care not to pull too hard and risk waking Nemain. He could not and would not stay here. They needed to get back to Narnia. They needed to get help for Oreius . . . if the Centaur hadn't died yet.
He forced the morbid thought away and focused on tugging the knot loose. It seemed to take hours as he struggled not to give into impatience and yank on the miserable leash but finally, Aslan be praised, it came loose and slipped off his neck. He froze when he heard the sole guard let out an obnoxiously loud belch then he rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled to the purse between the Giantesses' feet then peered over it. An Ettin was slouched against a boulder, a large club lay in his lap, but his focus was clearly on guzzling the foul wine as he raised the wineskin to his mouth with both hands and drank with noisy gulps. Peter watched the Ettin swipe his mouth on his sleeve before immediately returning to his drink with a mix of disgust and hope. The slovenly fellow could be their one chance of escape.
The Ettin's drinking finally began to slow as his head started sagging. Peter tensed. Then a shadow next to him moved. Edmund, also ribbon-free, crouched next to him. They glanced at each other and then returned their attention to the drunken Ettin. Cold seeped into their clothes, biting down to the skin, was unseasonable even for early Frostmoon but it did serve to keep them too uncomfortable to fall asleep. Peter's gaze eventually drifted to the stars above them, seeking Spearhead who would lead them home to Narnia. Judging by the stars' dances, it was still four or five hours until dawn. Their captors were not early risers either. And they always wasted at least an hour arguing over breakfast choices (and why he and Edmund were still not menu options). If he and Edmund could get out of camp and remain undetected long enough . . .
A sharp jab to his ribs pulled Peter's attention back to the situation at hand. Edmund glared at him and then nodded to the guard. Peter bit back a cheer at the sight of the Ettin slumped over with the depleted wineskin in hand and wine dribbling over his unkempt beard as snores reverberated from his open maw. He glanced at Edmund and nodded. Now was the time to act.
They clambered over the purse and then remained crouched as they crept past sleeping Giants and the ashy remains of the fire pit. Peter counted every step and winced every time the Giants moved or snorted in their sleep. Just one Giant waking would doom their escape. Remembering all the lessons Oreius had drilled into him about balancing his weight out and keeping his steps soundless (this still did not sufficiently explain how Oreius could simply appear without his iron-shod hooves making a sound), Peter did not breathe easy until they finally rounded a bend in the canyon and the camp was out of sight.
He immediately pulled Edmund into a bone-crushing hug, grinning when his little brother shoved him away. Edmund was not amused as he glared. "No time for mush, Pevensie. Come on."
Peter grinned, simply happy that they had made it out of camp, but the thought of being captured again, of being forced back into the company of Giants quickly sobered him. His acute relief was no doubt due to the physical and emotional strain since they were first ambushed. But this was not the time for such things, not if he ever wanted to get home to Narnia and to Thalia again. They didn't dare run for fear of the noise should they knock against any loose rocks but Peter eagerly set the pace to a fast jog. The noise of the sleeping Giants seemed to linger for far too long but then there was silence. No rumbling. No belching. Or any other menacingly unpleasant sounds. Only the quiet sounds of insects. If only they could hear the familiar sounds of Narnia already.
The bruises he had collected during the Giants' rough treatment ached and tempted him to slow his pace but Peter refused. They had to reach Oreius, determine his condition, and then get help for moving the Centaur. Then Peter was going to gather the army and knock the entire lot of Northern Giants into such a daze that they won't dare menace Narnians ever again. Never again. His jaw clenched as he recalled Babur being broken, soldiers dying, soldiers being eaten alive, Oreius receiving fatal wounds, Oreius telling him about the little foal who would probably never know his or her father, and so many other innocents who had died at the hands of the Ettins and Harfangers. No, this would not continue. Aslan willing, this would never happen again.
The sky was stained pink and orange when he heard it. A harsh horn sounding in the distance. Edmund swore and Peter grimaced. The Giants had found their trail.
They came to a stop in front of a crossroads. Three trails led south. Peter turned and clasped forearms with his brother. "To Narnia."
"To Narnia," Edmund echoed. His grip on Peter's forearm was painfully tight before he let go and raced down the left-most passage.
Peter breathed a prayer for Aslan's protection as he watched his brother disappear. The horn sounded again, harsh and even closer than before. Peter ran into the right-hand canyon. Aslan willing, they would confuse and divide the Giants enough that the brutes would give up the notion of having him and Ed as prizes.
A hideous laugh erupted just as he emerged into a bowl-shaped gulley. Peter groaned and spun to see one of the Ettins lumbering toward him. His jaw clenched. He was not going to be taken prisoner again. He was not. Peter let out a shout of his own and ran for the Ettin. The brute stumbled, gaping foolishly as he watched Peter rush him. Peter didn't give him the chance to recover. He leapt forward, landing with both feet on the Giant's instep. The Ettin howled in pain and dropped into a crouch as he reached for his foot. Peter yanked the carving knife from the Giant's belt. It was awkward and unwieldy but Peter didn't need to wield it. He just needed to drive it. With another shout, he lunged, spearing the Giant's foot with the knife and cutting a furrow into the webbing between the Ettin's thumb and forefinger. The Ettin howled again and swatted down blindly. Peter rolled away as the Ettin's hand landed squarely on the hilt of his knife, driving it further into his foot.
Scrambling upright, Peter did not permit himself to celebrate as he fled. He had to get out of the open. He had almost reached the next canyon when two more Giants appeared. The Ettin chased him, club raised, while the Harfanger was in between him and the canyon. Peter rushed the Harfanger with the Ettin fast behind. He really hoped this worked. He dropped and slid between the Harfanger's legs. Scrambling to his feet, he glanced over his shoulder just as the Ettin's club connected with Harfanger's gut. The Harfanger swore and punched the Ettin. In moments, the two Giants were wrestling, calling childish insults, swearing, and landing as many punches as they could. Peter had been forgotten.
Spinning around, he raced into the canyon. He no longer tried to stay stealthy. He needed distance more than anything else. He had to get away. The sound of the fight was growing fainter. He would find Ed and then they would get to Oreius. They would make it to freedom, true freedom.
Peter rounded the bend and stumbled to a painful halt. Fea was sitting on a boulder, blocking the only way forward. Both heads turned to look at him. Mirror grins bloomed but the smaller head's smile carried a cunning not shared by her sister head's oafish grin.
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A/N: Please Read and Review! MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! Poor Peter in trouble again. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.