It was high noon on the second day since Peter woke when we reached the ambush site. Bright, golden sunlight poured down on the remnants of the village illuminating the scene of the carnage with horrifying clarity.
I wished heartily that it was dark.
A flock of carrion birds circled over the ruins cawing angry protests at being disturbed, their voices harsh in the sun-stained air. A light breeze blew over the wreckage stirring the ashes and bringing with it a foul stench. I nearly gagged.
"Oh my." Lucy coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. "Oh my."
Jaerin dug into his pocket and produced a clean handkerchief which he tied around her face. "That might help," he said. "Might."
Beniah, a faun, left the ring of sentries that guarded the death-scene from further degradation and bowed to the king and queen.
"Are you sure you want to see this, Majesties?" he asked.
"Yes," Peter answered sharply.
"Lucy?" I asked softly. My young queen was almost as pale as the handkerchief.
"I need to see," she choked out.
Beniah nodded. "Then follow in my footsteps. It would be unwise to walk elsewhere."
Memories of the devastation we saw would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
It had been six days since the battle. Six days for the carrion birds to feast. Six days of rain and hot sun. Six days for bodies to begin to decay. Six days.
And the raiders had no respect for the dead. None. Not content with slaughtering our people, they had mutilated their bodies after death. Though I knew I had friends among the dead, there was no way to identify them. Easier to find the legendary Firestones on the Secret Hill than to tell one body from another. There was not one whole corpse in all that sickening scene. Even their armor and clothing had been stripped away. Scavengers and thieves as well as murderers.
I do not know what was in the others' hearts when we came at last to the end of the destruction and to the spear shaft on which Edmund's helmet had been mounted. I only know that the horror I felt at the outrage perpetrated on my land by these people—People! Ha! Their actions were worse than those of dumb beasts for they knew what evil they wrought and took pleasure in it—My horror turned to anger, cold and hard in my heart. These…creatures I could slay without pity.
And they had my king. My friend. My brawind—my almost-brother.
Peter's brother.
Lucy was the first of us to speak. Jaerin's handkerchief had slipped from her face and how hung around her neck but she did not seem to notice. Tears rolled down cheeks flushed with anger.
"Was it like this when you came, Jaerin." Her voice was little more than a whisper.
"Aye, Lucy. Though not as bad. It hadn't been as long."
"And this is where they left the bloody message?"
I wasn't sure if she spoke literally or meant the word as a curse. Possibly both.
"Aye," Jaerin answered.
"Then let us leave them—and anyone else who comes here—a message of our own," Peter said.
Leaning over, he wrenched the spear from the ground and spurred his mount to the narrow swath of unburned grass near the trees. In a fierce motion, he plunged the weapon into the earth again then reached into his saddlebags. Before I had time to wonder what he was doing, Peter pulled out a Narnian standard. He lashed it to the spear then reached into his bag again and pulled out a smaller banner.
Edmund's.
Peter tied the standard beneath the green and crimson of Narnia and once more pulled the spear from the ground. Brandishing it aloft, he shouted to his troops.
"Narnians! Hear my words. You have seen how these accursed barbarians have treated your fallen brethren. They have no concept of revinim, no thought or care for others. They have taken captive your king, our brother, for their own evil purposes. We will not stand for this! We will pursue these barbarians to the edge of the world if we must to avenge our brethren!"
A great roaring cheer rose up from the woods—Great Cats, Wolves, and Dogs howled their agreement in chorus with the Eagles and Gryphons overhead. The Buffalo bellowed and the Centaurs, Fauns, and Satyrs shouted.
"For Narnia!" someone yelled.
"Aye, for Narnia!" Peter called. "Let these noble Narnians who gave their lives to insure our safety be buried with all honor. This standard shall mount their grave and serve as acknowledgement of the sacrifice they made for us."
Another cheer rose from Narnian throats. And just for a moment, I Saw. More clearly than ever before, I saw what would be.
The rubble, ash, and bloated bodies vanished, replaced by tall green grace covering a long low mound on the eastern edge of the wide clearing. A white stone, as tall as I and at least ten paces long stood at its base near the center. Though I could not quite read it, I knew the names of everyone who had fallen in the ambush was engraved on that stone with loving care. And flying proudly from the highest point of the mound, Edmund's banner surmounted by Narnia's Lion.
"Protector's Green," I gasped.
"What?" Peter turned to me in confusion.
"This place will be called 'Protector's Green.' They will not be forgotten."
Everyone stared at me. I don't suppose any of us, me included, would ever get used to me knowing things that I should not be able to know.
"Well," Jaerin said after a moment. "I suppose that is some comfort. With your permission, King Peter, Queen Lucy, I'll organize a burial brigade."
"See to it," Peter said.
"Chose the slowest runners," Orieus interjected. "We will not wait once we find the intruders' trail and it is better they tend the fallen than slow us down."
"Understood. But don't you dare try to leave without me!"
Leaping from his mount, Jaerin ran along the edges of the trees calling out to the troops scattered in search of a trail. Within minutes, he had about thirty Narnians at work digging a trench on the eastern side of the clearing. I smirked slightly. I hadn't even told him where to dig.
While Jaerin organized his brigade, Father and Kanell trotted to the southern fringe and joined the searchers. Orieus moved north with Peter leaving me, Lucy and Philip to add our efforts to the Wolves' hunt. For the most part, we hung back from the pack, careful to keep from obscuring any trail or scent that might be left after the rains that had mercifully kept the fire from spreading to the woods.
Perhaps one, silent, anxious hour had passed when the lead Wolf's ears pricked up. Lucy tensed—though it hardly seemed possible for her to be wound tighter than she already was. I could see the tension in her back and shoulders, in the way she held herself perfectly straight and did not relax into the motion of her Horse.
"What is it, Keefang?" Lucy called.
"A moment more and I will know," the Wolf replied.
Keefang gave a short huffing bark and the other Wolves immediately raced to his position. Noses to the ground, they quartered the area, sniffing high up on the tree trunks and pawing through leaves. Suddenly, another of the Wolves stopped. Throwing back his head, he gave a long, keening howl that sent shivers through every nerve in my body. The others froze for an instant then added their wild voices to his. My horse and Philip both shifted uneasily.
"Glad they're on our side," Philip snorted.
The howling stopped as abruptly as it began. Arthur Ravenwolf, oldest of the clan turned toward us, eyes gleaming with predatory glee.
"We have found the trail."