Chapter 10. Hopefully I will get chapter 11 up soon!
Peter awoke with a start to a stinging sensation in his cheek and looked up to see a tall man in front of him, straightening up after slapping him across the face.
Peter tried to take stock of his surroundings. He was in front of the Stone Table, half sitting, half lying on the ground, his hands bound behind his back. His head throbbed and he did not know how long he had been here. Judging by the ache in his shoulders and wrists his arms had been tied for several hours at least. He was hungry, thirsty and his entire body protested the position he found himself in. He shifted slightly and a searing pain ripped across his side.
"The wound will not kill you, Your Majesty" said the Tarkheen. "But I would suggest you do not aggravate it by struggling." He looked up at the two remaining guards.
"Leave us. Wait outside and we will rejoin the company when I am finished here."
The guards bowed and left the room. Peter craned his neck to see the Tarkheen as he moved across the chamber and watched as he lifted a heavy lump of wood, leaning it against the door and wedging it shut. The chamber was lit only by a torch on the walls and the shadows leapt around them as the flame flickered.
The Tarkheen came back to stand in front of him.
"There is someone here who I would very much like you to meet." He said with a smile that showed all of his teeth. He stepped back and held out his arm as if to introduce a guest. From the darkness stepped a figure, and Peter felt the blood drain from his face as he recognised who stood there.
At the back of the chamber, unseen, a mouse wriggled under the door and started to dig at the earth under the lump of wood holding it shut.
The White Witch towered over Peter and looked down upon him with an almost kind expression.
"Peter. Did you really think I was gone forever?"
Peter stared her in the eye, determined not to let her see the fear that was rising in his stomach. She was holding a dagger in her hand that was covered in dried blood Peter guessed was his own. She must've thrown it at me. I was the last one out. All they needed to do was drag me back.
Peereep dug harder and the block of wood started to lean.
"And now, Peter, your death will open the way for my way back into Narnia. What good is a country, after all, without a Queen?" The Witch stroked the blade of her dagger thoughtfully, "And how fitting that you should die here, where I killed your Aslan all those years ago." She smiled at him and her teeth flashed.
"He came back, remember? What makes you think he can't bring me back too?" Peter knew he was bluffing.
"But where is he, Peter? He's not here to save you now." She raised her arm and Peter braced himself. But suddenly she paused as a low thumped echoed from the back of the chamber. The Tarkheen's head whipped round as the chamber door burst open and then threw his arm over his face as a centaur leapt over Peter's head brandishing a length of sacking that he swung around his head like a lariat. He flung it at the Tarkheen and the Witch, knocking the flaming torch off the wall in the process. Flames erupted in front of them as the sack caught fire and Peter felt hands upon him as another centaur lifted him bodily onto Opal's back. Opal turned and raced towards the door at flat gallop.
Peereep, perched on the wood by the door, sprang up onto Peter's leg as they passed and scrambled round behind him, slicing his bonds open with one strike of his sword. Peter gratefully tangled his hands into Opal's mane and sagged forward as they headed towards the woods.
The Tarkheen raced to the chamber door, and screamed in rage as he saw his guards lying on the floor. A single arrow had killed one of the guards instantly and pierced the other's arm, pinning him underneath his dead companion. He roared and started to run after the feeling Narnians.
"Leave them" said the cold voice of the witch behind him. "Peter will come to me himself soon enough"
Peter winced as Peereep dabbed at the wound on his side. His shoulders were in agony from being held in such an awkward position for so long and his head was still foggy from the length of time he had been unconscious.
"What happened?"
"We were all running from the How; when we looked back you were nowhere to be seen, Your Majesty. We hid here, in the woods. Luckily we know them better than that scum." Peereep shook his head sadly. "It was two days and two nights before the Calormen soldiers stopped looking for us and fell back to the river. We knew once they were gone we would have a chance at overpowering those that were left. Once nightfall came on the third day we went in to rescue you."
Glimfeather landed nearby with an almost silent flurry of wings and looked questioningly at Peereep.
"Have you any word for the castle Sire?"
Peter grimaced.
"They must not know the depth of our defeat; it will only cause fear and despair. Calormen will strike again, it is certain. But they have fallen back for now, and we are returning to Cair Paravel. Let that be the news Glimfeather imparts to Trumpkin. Once we have returned we can discuss fully what is to be done next."
Peereep scuttled over to relay the news to Glimfeather, who ruffled his feathers and took off.
"What now, Your Majesty?" asked Opal, "are we to return tonight, or would you rest first?"
The survivors of the ambush were gathering round them, looking to him for instructions. Peter shook his head. He could not quite believe that the Narnians still had so much faith in him. His judgement had proven to be questionable so far; he had led their companions to their deaths, and yet they had risked their lives to rescue him and were turning to him once again for orders.
"Tonight," he said, "Tonight we must return. The Calormenes have fooled us once. We mustn't give them the chance to get to Cair Paravel before us."
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