Disclaimer: Everything is C.S. Lewis' and the following battle is from the new movie

A/N: Thank you everyone for your amazing reviews (huge grin). You rock! You are the ones who keep me going and keep me wanting to write more, and so I cannot thank you enough for that :)

Here's the chapter that you've all been waiting for, the Battle of Beruna. I've added a few of my own tidbits of course but I'll leave my notes to the end so you can continue to read :)

As always, your reviews, comments, suggestions, fav parts/characters, are extremely appreciated and welcomed

Chapter Thirteen: The Battle of Beruna

Edmund slept soundly and for once he was not plagued by constant nightmares. He was in the middle of a rather good dream when he heard the sound of a sword being drawn. Edmund's eyes flew open and he saw Peter pointing his sword towards the entrance of their tent. Edmund's eyes widened and he lifted his head, looking towards the opening, where a Dryad stood amidst her pink blossoms, giving them a grave look. His heart beat quickly and he tried not to move in an effort to keep himself in his hammock. Why is she here?

"Be still my Princes," said the Dryad quietly. Peter and Edmund both glanced at each other with shocked expressions and then looked back at the Dryad. There was a look in the Dryad's face that made both boys stare at her, unsure as to why she was visiting them at this hour. "I bring grave news from your sisters." At her words, Edmund could feel his heart beating faster. Our sisters? What's happened?

Peter lowered his sword slowly to his lap. "What news?" asked Peter, trying to keep his voice steady, but Edmund could hear it waver.

Edmund glanced at his brother before returning his gaze to the Dryad, who looked very sad indeed. "What happened?" asked Edmund, sitting up, not liking the look on the Dryad's face. If anything had happened to either of his sisters… However, this sudden movement caused his hammock to sway dangerously and he nearly fell out of it. Peter reached over, steadying Edmund, never removing his gaze from the Dryad.

"Your Majesties, it is up to you now to lead the battle against the Witch," said the Dryad solemnly. "Your sisters will be joining you later. Take peace that they are safe and well right now."

After taking a deep breath to steady his racing heart, Edmund swung his legs out from under his blankets, looking at the Dryad. "What do you mean? What about Aslan? He's supposed to lead us."

"He is no longer with us," said the Dryad sadly. "The High King must lead us."

"Aslan's…dead?" asked Peter softly, disbelief evident in his eyes and voice.

The Dryad merely nodded. "I will leave you to your duty." She disappeared in a handful of pink blossoms, riding the breeze out of the tent.

What? Aslan? Gone? Why? Edmund was confused but he almost didn't believe it. He looked at Peter, who was staring at the sword in his hands. "Peter?" asked Edmund cautiously.

Peter didn't say anything for a few moments. Then he lifted his head, not looking at anything in particular. "We have to speak to Orieus." He climbed out of his bed, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and pulling on his jerkin. Cinching his belt around his waist, the sword already attached to it, Peter walked out of the tent. Edmund quickly pulled on his jerkin and scrambled to catch up.

However, Orieus was already waiting outside Aslan's tent when they arrived. Edmund watched as Peter glanced at the table where the battle plans had been laid out. Without a word, Peter walked into Aslan's tent. Edmund looked at Orieus. "General Orieus…do you really think he's gone?" asked Edmund quietly.

"We shall see," said Orieus, turning his stern gaze towards Aslan's tent. Edmund watched in apprehension, his fingers playing with the edge of his jerkin. It was a bad habit of his when he was nervous. He glanced around the camp, where there was already plenty of activity occurring. The soldiers were prepping for battle, awaiting Aslan's orders. They don't know that he's not coming, thought Edmund with a sinking feeling as he looked at the ground. It's up to Peter now.

The sound of footsteps made Edmund look up and he saw Peter walking out from Aslan's tent. "She's right," said Peter quietly. Edmund could tell that Peter was hiding what he truly felt, but didn't say anything. He watched as his brother walked towards them, stopping in front of the table. Peter set his hands down at the base of the map that lay spread out upon the top, looking uncertain. Peter's gaze remained on the map and Edmund frowned. "He's gone."

Edmund looked up at Orieus and then back at Peter. He took a deep breath, his features set in determination. "Then you'll have to lead us," said Edmund. Peter looked up at Edmund with a mixture of sadness, doubtfulness, and wariness. "Peter, there's an army out there." As he spoke, his voice grew steadier. "And it's ready to follow you."

"I can't!" said Peter, his voice wavering as he looked down at the map.

Edmund frowned. He can do this. I –I know he can. "Aslan believed you could," said Edmund, trying to convince his brother. His determined gaze never wavered from Peter and when he spoke his next words, they were the honest words of a truly changed Edmund. "And so do I."

At Edmund's words, Peter lifted his head and looked at his brother, nodding his head slightly. Grim determination replaced the uncertainty in Peter's face and Edmund felt relieved, returning the nod to his brother. I know you can do this, Peter, he thought. If anyone could lead an army, it'd be you. I know that now. I - He swallowed, never allowing his gaze to falter. I trust you.

"The Witch's army draws nearer, Sire," said Orieus, bringing Edmund out of his stunned realization. Both boys looked up at the Centaur General. "What are your orders?"

Peter looked at him for a few moments before looking down at the map. There were several sets of figures already placed in strategic locations, something that he had gone over with Aslan the night before. Edmund wasn't much for planning and found it rather boring, though the idea of a battle was beginning to sound adventurous. Of course, wasn't this entire thing one great adventure?

"I think we should go with what we were discussing last night," said Peter, looking at Orieus. "We have the bulk of our army down below to wait for the Witch's army to arrive. We'll send the Griffins to slow down their army." Peter looked at Edmund. "Edmund, you'll wait at the top of the cliffs with the archers. Send the phoenix to throw up a wall of fire when the Witch brings her reinforcements. I'll need you to watch and when I give the signal, a short blast of the horn, we're going to retreat back into the valley." Edmund nodded, sussing that he was not minding that his brother was telling him what to do. It was another mark of how much he had changed since they had arrived in Narnia. He truly believed in his brother now, and wouldn't hesitate to follow him to the ends of the world. Peter knows what he's doing. I'll follow him wherever he needs me. "When this happens, I need you to lead your group to ambush the Witch's army as they come after us. Once the Narnian army is clear, send volleys of arrows upon the enemy. It won't stop them but it will slow them down. If we can keep the high ground, we'll have the advantage."

"Right," said Edmund with a nod.

"Get dressed and meet me back here in fifteen minutes. And while you're at it, make sure you eat something."

"All right." Edmund turned as Peter began to discuss more strategy with Orieus. And when is he going to eat? Edmund shook his head. If he knew Peter, his brother wouldn't stop for anything. That was his weakness. He never knew when to just stop and take a break. I'll just bring him back food. He's got to eat something. Idiot. Thinking he can lead an army without food, thought Edmund, but he couldn't help but smile. That's Peter for you. He's never changed.

Edmund suddenly skidded to a halt, sussing that he didn't know where to go. I've got to get armor but…drat it all. He looked around and suddenly a voice spoke behind him, startling Edmund. "Your Majesty, my name is Shintalla. I am at your service. What do you need?"

Edmund spun to face a tall, graceful, female Centaur. Her flanks were a rich, golden-brown, and her hair was black as a raven. He felt rather stupid now, but he really didn't know where to go for what he needed. He hadn't been there that long. He took a deep breath, not wanting to make a fool out of himself. "I need armor."

Shintalla smiled. "This way, Sire." She motioned for him to follow her, turning and walking away. He jogged to catch up to her and then fell into step next to her.

"Where are we going?" asked Edmund.

"Over to our smithy. He'll be able to fix you up with armor. Do you have a sword?"

Edmund nodded. "Yes."

"Good. General Orieus told us that you would be leading our archers."

"Yes." He swallowed, feeling a bit nervous now at actually being in charge of something. However, he was also terribly excited and he couldn't wait to prove himself to his brother. "Are you one of the archers?"

Shintalla nodded. "Yes, your Majesty." She came to a halt. "Marioch!" she called and a powerful, dark-haired Centaur trotted into view from behind one of the tents.

"Shintalla," he said.

"Our Prince needs armor for the battle."

"Of course." Marioch looked at Edmund. "Come with me, your Majesty." Edmund followed Marioch away, glancing back at Shintalla as she hurried away.

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Edmund stood beside Peter, listening as his brother went over the battle instructions once more with General Orieus and the other commanders. Edmund's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, looking around at all the carefully-schooled faces of the Centaurs. The Fauns looked a bit apprehensive and the Satyrs barely showed any expressions. The two Cheetah commanders, Swiftfoot and Simione, prowled back and forth, their eyes on Peter, listening attentively.

Edmund looked over at his brother and couldn't help but admire how his brother looked in armor. It was jaw-dropping, to say the least. Peter wore a dark-red tunic over his mail shirt, with a golden lion rampant embroidered on the front. A dark-brown belt was cinched around his waist, with his scabbard and sword hanging at his left side. His legs were covered in chain mail and the gold-trimmed, silver greaves strapped to his calves glinted in the rising sun. Covering his shoulders and upper arms were sets of layered, silver armor, designed to allow freedom of movement. Peter's hands, one encased in a gauntlet and the other in a dark-red leather glove (his shield arm), rested on the map that lay on top of the table. Strapped around his forearms were elbow gauntlets. He was motioning to the different areas, glancing around at the commanders to make sure all of them understood the strategy. His helmet sat off to one side and Edmund felt a shiver run through him, though it was one of excitement.

He looked at his brother again, smiling slightly. He really looks like someone in charge of armies. Just like the soldiers…like Dad. Funny seeing Peter all dressed up in armor like that. He looks so different. Edmund was so caught up in how Peter looked, that he didn't think about how different he, himself, appeared. Edmund wore similar armor, save for the elbow and hand gauntlets, and his helmet didn't have a visor.

He shifted his stance but he wasn't uncomfortable, just anxious. He hated standing around for any length of time and always needed to be constantly on the move, doing something.

Once Peter turned to Orieus to discuss more intricate battle plans, Edmund grew bored and moved back a few paces. He drew his sword and began to do a few practice swings, trying to get used to the armor he wore. His armor was surprisingly light and he found that he could move quite easily in it. Thankfully, his injuries had healed enough so that they didn't constantly pain him. His lip was still tender but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.

"Edmund," said Peter and Edmund paused in his practice swings, turning to face his brother. Peter had tucked his helmet under his right arm, looking very grim but determined. "It's time."

Edmund nodded. "I'll take the archers and move into position."

Peter glanced around as the commanders left to gather their troops, and then he walked over to Edmund. He placed his leather-clad hand on Edmund's shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "Ed, are you going to be all right?"

Edmund rolled his eyes and shrugged his brother's hand off his shoulder. "I'm going to be fine, Peter. Honestly, you're such a worrier. Nothing's going to happen." He gave his brother a firm look. "I repeat, nothing is going to happen. Besides, you've put me up out of the action. How would I possibly get into trouble?" He quirked an eyebrow at his brother, smirking.

Peter sighed, not convinced. "Ed, knowing you, you'd find a way." He looked into Edmund's eyes for a few moments, searching them. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, all right? I can't let anything happen to you."

"You sound like Mum. Go on." Edmund pushed Peter away lightly. "I'm going to be fine!" Edmund shook his head, chuckling despite his nerves. "Go lead your army, O High King."

Peter allowed a small smile to grace his features. "I never could tell you what to do, could I?"

"Never."

"I was afraid of that." Peter took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I suppose we're ready as we can be."

"Peter, they believe in you. I believe in you. We're going to win."

"I hope that you're right."

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Edmund stood on top the giant, stony cliffs, looking out over the rolling green hills of Beruna below him. White-capped mountains filled the horizon, jutting up into the clear, blue sky. The Battle of Beruna was close at hand. Peter sat upon his gleaming, white unicorn and next to him stood Orieus. Behind them was the bulk of the Narnian army, spread out in lines that went all the way to the base of the cliffs. His heart was beating quickly in anticipation and his stomach was a knot of nerves. If you would have told me a week ago that I would be doing this, I would have laughed and called you an idiot, thought Edmund, looking out over the army far below him. The giant Griffin commander, Hawkeye, who was their scout as well, soared past Edmund and the archers, letting out a screech as he flew down to alight on the rock next to Peter. Edmund gripped his shield in his left hand, glancing at Mr. Beaver, who stood next to him, a bow in his paw. On the other side of Edmund was Shintalla, in gold and red armor, her bow gripped firmly in her hand.

Edmund heard the sound of a horn calling in the distance and watched as the Witch's army marched over the far hill. There's so many… thought Edmund, swallowing. Twice our numbers, at least. Edmund glanced at Mr. Beaver anxiously and then looked back out at the approaching army. Otmin, the huge, black Minotaur General, strode at the front, letting out an echoing battle cry, raising his axe into the air. As Edmund watched the Witch draw up in her spiked chariot, drawn by two enormous polar bears, he felt his stomach twist. She came to a halt at the top of a stony ledge and Edmund looked between the two armies.

Peter turned, looking up at Edmund. Edmund set his features in grim determination, giving his brother a nod in return. You can do this, Peter, I know you can, he thought, trying to give his brother strength through their bond. You've always been the strongest, the bravest…I believe in you, Peter. I really do. His brother really looked like a King, sitting out in front of the army. Edmund couldn't have been prouder of his brother than he was at that moment.

Peter turned to face the Witch's army, drawing his sword and holding it out in front of him. A Centaur sounded the horn and a deafening battle cry erupted from the Narnian army as they drew their weapons. Edmund heard Otmin let out his own battle cry and suddenly the Witch's army surged forth, covering the distance quickly. Edmund drew his own sword, his heart racing. You're not going to win, White Witch. You won't. I won't let you. He peered down at his brother, waiting for his signal. When Peter swung his sword downwards, Edmund lifted his own sword in a signal to the Griffins alighted on the rocks behind him. He swung his sword over his head and down, sending the Griffins forth with huge rocks gripped firmly in their talons. He watched as Hawkeye flew up from his post next to Peter, leading the Griffins as they flew towards the Witch's army, dropping their heavy stones and crushing groups of enemy soldiers. His gaze moved to Peter and he swallowed, trying to appear braver than he felt.

"We believe in King Peter," said Shintalla softly, not removing her gaze from Peter. "He has laid out a formidable plan. The Witch's army may be larger, but we have the high ground and that will be our advantage."

Edmund nodded. "He's my brother," he said, his voice coming out a little shakier than he would have liked. Nerves that had lain dormant now arose as he looked at the White Witch in the distance. He remembered far too well what had almost happened at her camp. Edmund took a deep breath and said, firmer this time, "He can do anything he sets his mind to."

He watched as Peter raised his sword and yelled, "For Narnia! And for Aslan!" and they charged towards the Witch's oncoming army, their battle cries echoing off the surrounding cliffs. Edmund watched as the armies drew closer, his gaze never leaving his brother. Peter, I wish I could be as brave as you, he thought. His heart continued to pound in his chest as the armies collided, cries and the sounds of clashing metal echoing throughout the area.

Edmund's grip tightened on his sword as he watched the battle erupt below him. The Centaurs moved quickly, cutting down their adversaries, and Edmund thought vaguely of his soldier games. Except this time… he swallowed. People are actually dying. Peter's out there…fighting for Narnia…He always was the one that wanted to enlist and help fight for England. Now he's leading an army against the Witch. Edmund couldn't help but feel in awe of his brother, his gaze fixated on the white and red blur that was Peter. He's amazing. I don't think I could do what he's doing right now. His eyes never left his brother, watching as Peter shoved his way through enemy after enemy, cutting them down before they even had a chance to touch him. Nothing can hurt him.

The battle continued for quite some time and Edmund smiled as the strategy unfolded before him. The Narnian army was doing well, but they were also holding back. They would let the enemy grow over-confident and then run when the time was right. The enemy would follow unknowingly into their trap.

He looked at the Witch and saw her begin to move forward, bringing the rest of the army with her. It was time for him to release the Phoenix.

Raising his sword, Edmund yelled, "Fire!" and Riblyian drew back her bow, releasing a fiery arrow that burst into a magnificent, fiery Phoenix, its cry echoing through the air. The Phoenix flew down, scorching the earth between the Witch and the Narnian army, throwing up a wall of flames. Edmund grinned, glancing at Mr. Beaver and then looking back at the Witch. Ha! Take that! Then he gasped as the Witch sent out a wave of icy-blue magic, extinguishing the flames easily. Peter! His eyes widened, his heart racing again. Get out of there, Peter!

He heard the sound of the horn and Mr. Beaver yelled, "That's the signal! Come on!" Mr. Beaver ran down the sloping hill with Edmund close behind. He was careful not to fall as he jumped over rocks jutting out of the high, green-grass, moving quickly to their post at the mouth of the rock valley. The archers lined up on either side of Edmund and upon the ledges behind him. Shintalla was next to him, her bow drawn and ready. Edmund raised his sword, watching as the Narnian army retreated into the rock valley. His heart pounding, he saw a flash of red that was his brother, and then looked beyond him to the approaching enemies. As soon as the Narnians were clear, he swung down his sword and the archers released a volley of arrows that descended upon the enemy. The archers continued to shoot volley after volley as Edmund looked around desperately for his brother. Peter, where are you? He spotted the deep-red tunic his brother wore and watched in horror as his unicorn was shot, sending Peter flying through the air to land on the ground, causing his helmet to fly off. Peter! Edmund wanted to run to his brother but he knew he had to stay there with the archers. Oh blast it! I can't just stand here and watch! Peter struggled to pull himself to his knees and Edmund wanted to shout at him to get out of the way, but Peter wouldn't have heard him. GET UP PETER!

General Orieus looked up, meeting Edmund's horrified gaze, and turned to look at Peter. Edmund watched as the Centaur General and a Rhino charged past a stunned Peter, rushing to meet the enemy. However, Edmund never saw what happened to the General, as a band of Minotaurs, Black Dwarves, and other nasty creatures descended upon the archers and Edmund. Edmund suddenly found himself fighting for his life, using the parries and attacks that Orieus had taught him. Edmund brought up his shield to protect himself from a Minotaur's axe and stabbed his sword forward, watching in shock as the Minotaur fell. He gulped, his heart pounding in his chest, but he didn't have time to think about it as an Ogre charged at him with a large club.

Edmund fought as hard as he could, knowing that his sword-fighting skills weren't that good, but he had to do something. He jumped off a ledge onto a small plateau, knocking an ugly-looking pig creature away from a Faun. He helped the Faun to his feet and then turned to face another enemy. He didn't even have time to think as he parried and attacked, his heart thundering in his ears. He threw up his shield to block the axe of a Minotaur and then crossed swords with an Ogre. Two Fauns moved to help Edmund, fighting the Minotaur and Ogre.

"Edmund!" yelled Peter, causing Edmund to turn around. "There's too many! Get out of here! Get the girls –" Peter swung his sword up to parry an oncoming blow from an Ogre "- and get them home!" Peter blocked an attack from a huge Minotaur and Edmund was suddenly being pulled away by Mr. Beaver.

"You heard him! Let's go!" yelled Mr. Beaver and Edmund had no choice but to be dragged up to safety on a high ledge, sheathing his sword. Peter! screamed Edmund silently, glancing at his brother as he was tugged away, watching as his brother fought enemy after enemy. Then he looked to the left and his eyes widened in horror. He watched as countless Narnians fell to the Witch's twin blades, her blue magic blazing as she turned creatures into stone. Then her gaze narrowed, focused on something.

Edmund followed her gaze quickly and his heart leapt into his throat as he sussed that it was Peter she was looking at. Get out of there, Peter! His heart hammering in his chest, he watched as the mail-clad Witch strode towards Peter, who was fighting (and losing) a battle against an Ogre and a Minotaur. A Leopard leapt at the Witch but she turned him to stone quickly, never breaking stride. Peter's unprotected back was to the Witch and Edmund felt a rush of anger as he looked at the Witch, her wand and sword glinting in the sunlight. I don't think so! You're not going to hurt my brother! I won't lose him to you! And, not caring about the fact that Peter had told him to stay safe, Edmund drew his sword, glaring.

"Peter said get out of here!" cried Mr. Beaver in surprise.

Edmund glanced at him. "Peter's not King yet." He leapt off the ledge, staggering as he landed and began running across the lower ledge, stumbling across the stony ground, but not falling. He ran as fast as he could, dodging battles and skirting boulders jutting out from the grassy slopes, his heart pounding in his chest. All the while, he kept watch on his brother and the Witch, who was drawing closer to Peter.

Edmund didn't even think, knowing only that his brother needed his help and he wasn't about to let him down. I've let them all down too many times. This one is for my Dad! Edmund leapt down onto another ledge, landing near the Witch. Then, gripping his sword with both hands, he let out a yell and jumped down, aiming for her wand. He missed the first try and barely drew back in time to avoid getting hit as she thrust her wand towards him, her gaze cold and angry. His knuckles turned white as he brought his sword down a second time, as hard as he could, on top of her wand, shattering it in a blinding flash of blue and white light. Before he quite knew what was happening, he felt his shield and sword get knocked out of his grasp and then a searing pain in his stomach. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as white-hot pain tore through his body.

He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the Witch's icy, cruel, smug gaze as she drew back her jagged wand, now dripping with crimson-red liquid. Blood…his blood. He stared at her, stunned. Oh…that wasn't very nice…

His breathing came out in ragged gasps, the pain overwhelming. As his vision blurred, he tried to look for Peter, but everything was spinning. His brother's face appeared once and Edmund saw him yelling something, but it was strange, he couldn't hear anything. Edmund gave Peter a stupid smile as things slid out of focus. Guess our soldier game didn't go quite so well… Then he sank to his knees and collapsed, looking up at the blue sky. He coughed, gasping from the pain that coursed through his body, his fingers grasping at his injury, his body shaking. It reminded him of what he had gone through at the hands of the Witch, just days earlier, but this pain was strangely numbing. He couldn't feel most of his body now. I guess…she…won…after all… he thought bitterly, sussing that he probably wouldn't make it through this. It seemed the Witch had achieved what she wanted: the blood of the traitor. Well…isn't that funny…how the world works… As blackness crept upon him, he found himself thinking, I'm glad I'm in Narnia…it's so much better here…even if I'm going to die…at least it's here…

His final thought, before the blackness took over, was, I'm sorry, Peter. I should have listened to you. I failed you…please forgive me. And then all was black.

Okay..I know, I know, evil cliffy! But not really, you all know what's going to happen (grins)

Anyhow, what did you think? I'd really like to know!

A suggestion for a conversation between Edmund and Susan was brought up and so that will be given next chapter. The next chapter is going to be quite long comparatively (this one was rather short)

A huge thanks to OhcEEcho's Ironic Synchronicity which inspired me for some of Edmund's thoughts at the end of this chapter. I definitely agree with OhcEEcho in how Edmund would feel. OhcEEcho, you've got a dedication in this chapter, let's see if you find it (winks) (hint: it's a character whose name is similar to a certain little boy who inspired me :D)

Apologies for the rather short chapter, but I wanted to keep the Battle separate. A lot of things happen here, and you know me, I never like to rush things (grin)

Thanks again for reading!