Disclaimer: I have now tried communicating with C. S. Lewis through a quija board to ask him to give me his publishing rights. No one's answering so far, but I'm persistent. I will prevail! Until then I'm stuck with writing up a disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter. I'm pretty sure someone said something at one time about repitition. Oh yes... repeating the same task over and over, but expecting different results is the mark of insanity. So...color me insane?
Author's Note: Edmund has a rather nasty experience in this one. Most of you probably half forgot that this occurance ever existed, but that's why I'm here: To remind you of all the nasty things you'd rather remained forgotten. :) Oh and the passage in italics is from one of Edgar Allan Poe's wonderful works called Ligeia. And again the website is proving extremely difficult. It refuses to let me seperate the different sections in this story as I see fit. Maybe it'll fix itself like it did last time, but just in case: The part in italics in the actual chapter is a dream. :) Not that that should come as a surprise to anyone who's ever read any fanfiction story before.
Chapter 12: "Death"
"I cannot, for my soul, remember how, when, or even precisely where, I first became acquainted with the lady Ligeia. Long years have since elapsed, and my memory is feeble through much suffering. Or, perhaps, I cannot now bring these points to mind, because, in truth, the character of my beloved, her rare learning, her singular yet placid cast of beauty, and the thrilling and enthralling eloquence of her low musical language, made their way into my heart by paces so steadily and stealthily progressive that they have been unnoticed and unknown."
The forest rose around them like fingers, sticking out of black earth. They had walked for three days since crossing the mountain range. The first night they caught up with the rest of the gypsies. Already then the Narnians and Irins had made camp together in an attempt to get accustomed to the company of the others.
The second and third day passed in silence. Most were busy walking. Watching where they stepped to avoid tripping. Some sang together, but nothing ever reached above a certain level. Everything appeared calm. It was probably why Edmund was so surprised when they reached their campsite the third afternoon. It was a small gorge, nestled between steep mountain sides. Each side, covered in pines. In the bottom of the gorge there was a small river. The smell of soil hung in the air. It was almost soothing. Romel told him the river was one of many that fused together and became one in Cauldron Pool.
Edmund recognized that river. The bend of it. The speed with which it traveled. The smell of it.
Camp was set a bit away. For some reason the gypsies wouldn't camp out in the open. There would be no tents erected that night. Everyone would sleep in their clothes and on the hard ground. The Narnians followed their example and only made a couple of fires. Peter had asked one of the Irins why the gypsies wouldn't pitch tents here. Edmund felt why. It was a slight undertone of unease that made him flinch at every unknown sound.
Arthur was peeling an apple with a knife across from him. Edmund jumped when Hale joined them, though quiet as a cat. He greeted the king with a measured nod, but said nothing else. Edmund nodded back before he returned to his view of the forest.
"Apple?" Arthur held out a slice of it to him. The man looked closely into Edmund's eyes as if searching for something.
Edmund took it after only a second's hesitation.
"You look nervous," Hale suddenly said. Valera and Arthur glanced at him before looking to Edmund.
Ed half shook his head and offered a weak smile. "Poor night's sleep, that's all." He stood up, but Arthur followed him. Edmund didn't see the look he shared with Valera before he did.
"Romel doesn't see it." he said while he was trailing the king out of the camp.
Edmund only glanced back with a quick grin. He didn't slow down. "See what?"
"That you're not that different." the red-head continued.
Edmund was walking along the trail they would take tomorrow. Passing the nomads' camps as he did. He kept walking only because he had no real answer for Arthur's statement.
"Where are we going?"
Edmund huffed. "Are you assigned to protect me?" He turned around, facing the Irin.
Arthur just smiled. "It seems the last thing you need is another protector."
Edmund frowned and came closer. "My brother wouldn't have come to you so that leaves Romel." He was deliberately disregarding Arthur's denial.
Arthur shrugged. "Or perhaps I just missed you,"
Edmund turned with a huff.
"What? Is that so outrageous?" Something about him suddenly sounded a little confrontational.
Edmund scoffed and kept walking.
"I'm your friend, Edmund. I was before-"
"Because you had no other choice." Edmund whirled on him. "I was a lost, little boy with no memory and you took me in out of pity. I don't blame Romel for not regarding me as he once did." He shrugged, trying to sell the lie.
Arthur didn't buy it. "He told us what you talked about." Edmund resumed walking and Arthur followed. "The others didn't understand before. Not like I did."
"Understand what?" Edmund asked in resignation.
"The choice we made by coming for you."
"You chose to save me. That was very noble." Edmund's thoughts shot back to his brother's poor behavior over the past few days. "My brother has no right to treat you like he does."
Arthur laughed and made Edmund halt. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
Edmund turned, exasperation pouring out of every pore. "Then what?" When Arthur didn't immediately answer Edmund pressed on.
"If you keep walking you'll reach the next campsite by evening." he grinned.
"Then so be it." Edmund growled and sped up his pace slightly.
But Arthur persisted. "What I mean to say is that I understood when we announced our allegiance to you."
"Hurrah,"
Arthur huffed. "Why are you so reluctant to talk?"
Edmund stopped and faced the Irin fully. "Maybe I'm done talking." Something grim slid into his eyes that
Arthur instantly noticed.
"What happened after we left?" His voice sounded small all of a sudden.
"You left." Edmund repeated.
"What happened with you?"
Edmund shrugged. "I got over it." He turned to walk again, this time taking Arthur a bit longer to follow.
"We never meant to leave you."
"Then why did you?" Edmund asked with his back turned.
"You asked us to!" he blurted out.
Edmund's shoulders dropped and the sense of loneliness he had felt for so long he had forgotten life before returned full force. "You didn't have to listen." His eyes sought down. "So why did you?"
Arthur's voice when he next answered was so small that Edmund stopped. "We were scared."
"Of what?" He glanced back, afraid to look too close.
"Of getting our lives back."
At that he did turn.
"I thought you might understand." he offered.
Edmund looked down. "I do." He took a deep breath and met Arthur's eyes. "I understand." In his voice he tried to convey that Arthur wasn't the source of his grief. That out of all the people in his life Arthur should never feel guilty. He turned and resumed walking.
"Do you have a weapon?" he called without making a move to follow.
"Yes." Edmund barked before he set off running. Arthur didn't follow, but spent a few moments until the king was completely out of sight before he returned to the others.
"Did you speak to him?" Valera asked when he returned. She was sharpening one of her knives. Hale was eating and Romel was writing something in a journal of his. Something no doubt terribly profound, not that he ever let anyone read it.
"I did." Arthur sat down.
"What did he say?" she asked.
"He said plenty." Arthur grabbed a bowl of the soup Hale had prepared. "Where are the others?"
"Lauviah is visiting Zoren's son. The others are probably around somewhere." she answered with a quick glance. "So you're not gonna tell us what he said?"
Arthur looked up mid-bite. "No." He took the bite.
Beside him Hale huffed through a smirk. "I wouldn't have either." The two friends shared a grin before both went back to eating.
A bit away from them all Romel watched the conversation with guarded eyes. He was weary of letting a king close to his family. "You remind me of your old self when you talk like that," he then said with a smile. The memories of his childhood this lifetime were sweet. Blissful.
"Don't let my charming, good looks fool you, old friend." Arthur said in a voice none of them had heard from him in almost three decades. "You know I sometimes forget why you left me."
Hale and Romel shared a guilt-ridden expression. "We meant to come back." he said sadly. Valera looked as though she felt a bit left out, and yet profoundly at ease. As if she liked it that way.
Arthur looked up and showed an ounce of the wisdom he once possessed. "You did."
"Just a few weeks too late." Romel growled.
Arthur smiled though the two men suddenly seemed glum. "We all die, Romel." The leader looked up. "I made a choice when I sought you three out." Arthur glanced at Hale and wished Lauviah was there to hear it as well. "Raising you three was the best decision I ever made."
"Bless the Prophets that you did." Hale answered and made Arthur's smile widen.
"Bless the Prophets indeed."
"Where did that expression come from?" Romel asked curiously.
Arthur shrugged with a smile. "One never knows where such things come from."
Valera huffed and smirked. She barely glanced up, but Arthur caught her smile regardless. "I wish I could have met you then."
"I'm here now." He looked pointedly at Romel. "And I'm not so different."
"You're more different than you realize." Romel answered and resumed his writing.
Arthur looked at him a moment before he realized it was meant as a compliment and shyly smiled into his soup.
"Old man." Hale said with a smirk. It made all four of them burst into giggles. Their good mood made the hardened warriors appear as love-struck children, and made all who passed laugh.
It was much later in the day when Edmund finally came back. He met his brother's eyes with a quick shake of his head before he rushed down towards the river to clean up. The camp felt crowded and as he had stealthily done to himself over the years, he suddenly thrived under. Loneliness suited him fine. Too many people had always felt overwhelming, but these days crowds too quickly became suffocating.
The river was deserted when he reached it. It would take a few seconds to notice where he was in fact standing. His breath left him when he suddenly realized. He had half expected to see blood, saturating the ground. He could still hear distant screams, echoing in the air. The roar of an ogre. This was where he had escaped. Where the Telmarines had been slaughtered.
He looked around the area. The tall pines didn't look familiar, but the river did. He knew the others were probably setting up for the night, and that he should help them, but something held him in place. Kneeling in front of the river. Unknown to him Romel was guarding him from the edge of the trees. His brother as well. Peter had stepped up next to the Irin with a quick glance before he turned the attention to his brother. Edmund was bent over with one hand in the water. Peter glanced at Romel again and spoke directly to him for the first time since leaving the Cair. "Why won't the gypsies set up camp by the river?"
"They say demons live here." He answered with his black eyes on Edmund.
Peter turned back to watch his brother again.
"These forests were once ogre hunting grounds. This river was the site of a massacre two years ago."
At this Peter turned to Romel in surprise. Two years. It couldn't be coincidence. "What happened?" he whispered.
Romel was still looking at Edmund who was squatting by the river. He didn't move, but simply held his hand under water. "Ask your brother. He knows better than anyone." With that, he turned to join his men. In his wake Arthur had followed Romel to watch over Edmund and remained a few seconds after his commander left.
Peter shared a concerned look with Arthur. "Watch him tonight." The red-head warned before he turned and left as well.
Edmund was kneeling and lettting the cold water rush past his extended fingers. It looked so clean. Not a speck of blood anywhere. It wasn't until he glanced up at the opposite bank, he saw it. It was almost the same color as the rocks that littered the banks and the bottom. Grey and covered in moss. But for two holes that had once been eyes, one would hardly notice it. Edmund froze.
The skull stared at him through the babbling brook. It was a cruel reminder what had happened here. He flinched when the wind rushed through the closely cropped trees and tricked his confused mind like sounding like a growl. If only a whisper of one, but enough to make the hairs in his arms and neck rise. Was something out there? Watching them?
That horrid day returned to him in a display of quick images. Each one, bloody. His breath hitched and he quickly rose, retracting his numb limb from the freezing water. His heart was thudding in his chest so loud he thought someone would hear. His inhales were coming as short snaps. Only with a great control and by closing his eyes, did he manage to calm himself. No one noticed besides Peter. The only one watching.
He turned and met his brother's eyes at the trees' edge. His eyes looked sad. Sadder than Edmund had seen them in years. As if he knew. Quickly looking away, Edmund started towards the camp and passed his brother without a word. If only Peter would ignore it. If only no one noticed. Then everything would be fine.
He spent the evening in their own camp, not talking with anyone. Only answering direct questions with one-syllable answers His soldiers quickly realized he didn't wish to be disturbed and kept their distance. At dinner he ate only enough to satisfy his brother's stern expression before he curled under his blanket.
Night came with a symphony of strange sounds. Ones Edmund vaguely remembered from his last trip here. There was a sharp smell of soil in the air. Night fell quickly this deep in the woods, though the light stayed in the sky for much longer. He settled in that night with hardly a word to anyone. The Irins camped with the Narnians. Those who knew Edmund realized enough not to comment. Those who didn't were too scared to ask.
It wasn't until the inky sky filled out with Stars, not until most fires had been left to die down, that Edmund allowed himself to fall asleep. He didn't know his brother was still watching, waiting for something to happen. He didn't know Romel and some of the Irins were waiting as well. Out of sight they still worried about the young king.
Eventually everyone – except Peter and the soldiers, guarding the camp – fell asleep. Edmund tossed in restless slumber to the great worry of his older brother. Peter was on his side, ready to jump up at the slightest sign of pain.
It started with sounds. Screams. Flashes of blood and glittering steel. Soldiers in black armor. Pain. The smell of infection. He felt water rush over his feet. It was so cold. His hands were bound. His heart was pounding. Where there had been no time to feel panic before, there now was. Everyone around him was dead or dying. He saw what he had forgotten from that day.
Men were tackled by creatures three times their size. They were ripped open with vicious claws. Bit into whilst still alive. Blood and fluids colored the river dark brown. Slightly red along the banks. Soft chunks of indiscernible nature squeezed up between one's toes. One Ogre roared in victory. It reared back on its hind legs and raised both hands into the air. Such massive hands.
Edmund was breathing quickly. Bound by his fear. He could only watch as the last Telmarines were brutally dismembered. A few were still screaming. Crying. Begging for someone to help them. Anyone. The Ogre noticed Edmund. Half submerged in mucky water, warm from the bodily fluids pumped into it. It approached him. Slowly. Teasingly. It giggled.
A line of spit was dangling from its jaw. Pink drool. The Telmarine it had been eating was still alive, but could no longer flee. Split from belly to collarbone, but still whimpering. It reached Edmund though he drew back. Crawled, crabbing along the rocky bank. It picked him up like he weighed nothing. Though he squirmed, it held on. Squeezed till his lungs screamed. Its claws dug into his back and punctured his spine, ribs, lungs and intestines. Blood and feces squirted from his puncture wounds.
The smell was horrific. His diaphragm was pierced. It became impossible to breathe. He began screaming, though he didn't know where the air came from. He screamed again and again why Aslan would let something so horrific happen. He screamed even as he heard a human voice call him to stop. Order others to let go.
The Ogre dropped him and he landed, not in warm water, but on cold, forest soil.
With a great inhale his eyes snapped open. A familiar face was staring wide-eyed at him.
Peter had both hands up. Edmund was backed up against a tree, brandishing a sword. Peter knew the kind of damage his brother could bestow to any who tried to grab him. It was why he had yelled at Romel when he tried to rouse the youngest king. Why he wouldn't let anyone near him until he got him to let go of the sword. The Irin and his friends had jumped into the camp at Edmund's first scream. Peter wouldn't be surprised if everyone was up and wondering if someone was injured. For a brief instant he had admired the Irins' concern.
Though the admiration quickly passed when Romel had tried to wake Edmund and let him pull a sword right out of his scabbard. Careless. Ed had pushed off hard and hit his head against a tree.
Now he was blinking his eyes. Looking at the faces around him, sweating. Friends, family and subjects. All of whom seemed more than a little confused, worried and frightened for their king. Peter's stare penetrated the blind panic he could see in his brother's eyes. But speaking softly, Peter somehow reached him. Edmund allowed himself to sag a little. Allowed the dream to catch up to him.
"Just drop the sword, Eddy." His voice was whisper.
Edmund allowed the weapon to fall and Peter quickly kicked it away. Seeing his brother flinch as he did.
"Shh, shh. It's alright, Ed." he whispered as he leaned in. His arms snaked around his shaking sibling. "Everything's alright." His hand began stroking through the black locks. "You're not alone. I'm here. I'm here." His whisper couldn't be heard by any human ears, but the Animals who were watching heard him quite clearly.
"Go back to your business. Give the kings some privacy." Oncai snapped from somewhere behind them.
"It's ok. It's ok."
Edmund was shivering. "P-Pete,"
"It's ok. Let's go." Peter knew his brother wouldn't want to fall apart in front of others. He guided them along as gently as he could. One path led to the river, the other, in the direction they would head tomorrow. He chose the latter, knowing which memories were attacking his brother.
Without a sound the Irins left the camp and took up wide flanking positions around the kings. Guarding them from far enough away that they couldn't eavesdrop.
"It's over, alright?" Peter tried to catch his brother's eyes, but Edmund wouldn't lift his head. It was scaring him. He was hunched in on himself and shivering.
He sat them both down in the darkness. Only Edmund's heavy breathing could be heard. "It w-was my fault."
"Shh, just sit down." He pulled out one of the honey-biscuits he had kept as a roadside snack for tomorrow.
"I'm-m not hungry."
"It's not for the hunger," Peter said in the same, soothing voice. "Eat it. You'll feel better."
Edmund took it, but didn't eat. Peter gently guided his hand to his mouth and watched his brother nibble at a corner.
"The sugar helps with the shock." he said by way of explaining. He had used it time and again in way of helping frantic survivors and grieving widows. Edmund took another nibble. "Tell me what happened."
"I didn't remember bef-" A swallow. "before." He was calming down, but tears were still flooding his eyes.
"Who did you see?"
His breath hitched. "Telmarines." A tear dislodged. "Ogres, ripping into them." He looked up through the darkness and could only just see his brother's eyes in the gleam of the Stars.
"You were here two years ago, weren't you?"
"Y-Yes." he whispered. "It was my fault. My f-fault." he whispered brokenly.
"How can you say that?"
"I wished for it to happen!"
"Shh, shh." Peter grabbed him in a tight hug and began stroking through the thick, black hair. "You couldn't have stopped it."
That broke him. Edmund keeled over and leaned heavily into his brother's warm embrace. His hands grasped frantically at his clothes. He began sobbing. Long sobs that echoed through the cool night. Cries that would have alerted enemies of their presence, had any of them heard. Though, as if by some miracle, no one did. Those who later told the story said that the grace of the Great Lion rested upon the kings that night. No ogres would have heard, had there been any to hear.
"Listen to me, Ed." Peter gently pulled his brother's chin up. "What happened that day, no one could have stopped." Tears rolled unchecked down his brother's eyes. "Aslan Himself couldn't have stopped it."
"Wh-Why would He let it happen, Peter?" He sounded ten years old again.
Peter's expression broke. Such sorrow in the face of the oldest king. "To avenge those they had killed. To ensure that those men would never again hurt another Narnian."
He sounds so sure, Edmund thought.
"We are his favorite children, Edmund. Would you have let them get away with their crimes?"
"W-Was it because of m-me?" he sobbed.
Peter again pulled him close and shushed him. He cradled his head against his chest and started rocking them. "No, little brother." his whisper was like Aslan's breath. "Never because of you. . ." His mind wandered to the day he had heard news of his brother's disappearance.
Two years prior…
A Frigate Bird arrived to the King's tent that day. A cool wind was ripping at fabrics and whirling up the smoke from fires. Peter was in council with Oreius and a Calormene machinist. The giants had attacked during the night, but the Calormene war machines had beaten them back. Their victory seemed within reach.
Peter allowed himself to dream. Imagine. Finally defeating them once and for all. So much suffering to be spared.
The large Bird flew right into his tent without permission with cries from the Fauns on guard outside. It crashed on the table, digging his sharp claws into the fine maps, just as a guard stormed in, prepared to drag the Bird out. Oreius frowned, obviously recognizing the intruder and held up a hand for the guard to stop. "Excuse me! Master Artillius, what entitles you to such frivolity?" he rumbled.
"Forgive me, your Majesty. General. I bring frightful news." The Bird bowed with a slightly clumsy flourish. He had obviously rushed.
"Who sent you, Artillius?" Peter asked, more than a little annoyed by the interruption. He nodded to excuse the guard.
"Your sister, the noble and gentle Queen Susan." Artillius bowed again.
"What news have you for me?" He stepped closer to the table, still more annoyed than worried. He reluctantly looked the Bird in the eye and paled. What he saw made his thoughts spin and his blood freeze. For Susan to send someone who wasn't a courier by trade, a civilian and one of the fastest Birds in Narnia at that, was suddenly more than a little alarming.
"Your brother, the Just King Edmund has disappeared."
Peter's face fell. His heart stopped pounding. A deep cold spread through his chest. "Oreius, leave us." His voice sounded hollow.
The Centaur bowed and quickly pulled the machinist with him. Peter knew their old instructor was more than a little worried already, but he needed to read the message in private first. "Tell me, what message did she give you?"
"On my leg, my liege." He stretched out a long, skinny leg.
Peter carefully untied the roll of parchment. As he read the note, his face paled even more. The words missing and remains flashed wildly across the page. He looked up at the winded Bird. "She sends no instructions?" His blood had begun pumping again and did so with a furious speed.
The Bird bowed a third time. "Only that she fears Telmarines might be involved in his disappearance."
Peter stared openmouthed at the Bird. His shoulders tensed and his chin dipped. "She does what?"
The Bird shied back from the boiling rage that suddenly fumed from the king. "I-I. . .My liege?"
"Dismissed!" Peter turned before he saw the Bird scurry off. He began pacing almost instantly. His thoughts swirled around those who had taken his brother.
Oreius entered only seconds later. "What news from the Cair?" He already knew it was bad if the queen sent an urgent message to the high king during a siege.
"You heard it already." Peter couldn't stop pacing. "My brother's missing."
"Where?" Oreius had already begun considering the planning that would go into dividing their forces at present time. He had no doubt that Peter would want to return.
"In the Western Wild. My sister seems to think Telmarines are involved."
"Beasts," the Centaur growled and stomped a leg. "Your orders?"
Peter was about to answer when a scream echoed through the camp. Both were outside in seconds. "To ARMS!" a Faun called. In the distance, near the frontline of defense where the war-machines were placed, a giant was tearing through what soldiers it could find. Biting heads off right and left and trying to smash one of the machines.
The Narnians moved like a single wave and began charging the lone giant. "A berserker attack!" Oreius called to the men around him. All who could took up arms.
In an instant Peter had forgotten about his newly received message until he saw the red-chested Frigate Bird soaring high above them all. His gaze wandered higher and he wondered if, somewhere, Edmund was watching the sky as well.
In the next instant the giant roared and took out three Narnians with one swipe of its club. His thoughts flickered out and pure instinct took over. They needed to secure the colossus before it could take out the remaining machines, as was obviously its task. Peter charged the attacker, completely overhearing the warning from his general. All he felt that instant was blood-red rage.
He would beat them back, find Edmund and kill everyone who got in his way.
Present…
Peter watched the quiet Stars above them. "It wasn't you who called for blood," he whispered. He wasn't sure his brother even heard him. His breathing had evened out and his body had gone lax. "It was never your voice that called Aslan for vengeance."
AN: How was that? Did anyone catch the insinuation from Romel and Arthur's talk? Do anyone remember who raised Romel, Hale and Lauviah in this of their lives? If you don't, let me know. I'm probably gonne try to tie it in again later on in the story. Hope you all enjoyed. :)