Chapter 14


As most plans do, the Narnian's started out well. Susan landed in perfect position to guide the others in with the light of the torch, as well as take out any enemy below her. Peter, Edmund, Caspian, and Trumpkin landed almost unnoticed, and easily got rid of anyone in their way. Climbing down from the walls, the four Narnians entered through the window of Doctor Cornelius's room.

It was then that the plan began wavering. Finding the professor missing, and his room overturned, Caspian declared that he had to save his friend and mentor. Peter was none too happy with this. "You don't have time! You and Trumpkin have to get to the gatehouse."

Caspian glared at Peter. "You wouldn't even be here without him. And neither would I." He looked to Edmund, eyes pleading. "I can't leave him."

Edmund hesitated. He knew that it would be dangerous to allow any deviation from the plan. Still, he owed Doctor Cornelius as much as Caspian did. And, if the attack went sour and they had to retreat…Edmund shuddered inwardly. He couldn't leave Cornelius to face the Telmarines' wrath further. Uneasy though he still was, Edmund added his voice to Caspian's argument. "The dungeons aren't that far away." He was not just saying that either, since one of the first things Edmund always did when infiltrating an enemy encampment was locate the holding cells and figure a way out of them, in case it ever came in handy.

Caspian looked relieved at Edmund's support. "And I can still make it to the gatehouse in time." Peter seemed close to forbidding it, despite the argument, but Edmund caught his brother's eyes with his own. Edmund knew he was showing some vulnerability due to his empathy with Cornelius's situation, and he knew Peter could see it. He watched as Peter's face tightened and he nodded his assent to Caspian. The young Telmarine quickly ran off, Trumpkin following as the dwarf headed for the gatehouse as planned.

Peter turned to his brother. "Ed…"

Edmund shook his head and began walking. "Come on, the royal chambers are this way," he said gruffly. Now was not the time to talk about Edmund's weakness.

~*~

Despite Edmund's knowledge of the castle layout, their progress was slow. The brothers were forced several times to stop and hide from passing sentries. A sense of further unease grew in Edmund. He didn't like what the number of sentries indicated concerning the number of soldiers at the castle. Please let it be because Miraz is paranoid, and not because there are more soldiers available to be sentries.

Finally, and after a much longer time than Edmund would have liked, they reached Miraz's chamber. He frowned as they stood at the door. Were those voices he heard? He and Peter exchanged glances, both now prepared to fight the moment they stepped into the room. At Edmund's silent count Peter flung open the door and they dashed inside, weapons ready.

What they found was not what they were expecting. Miraz stood by his bed, a menacing figure even in nightclothes. In front of him, holding Miraz at swordpoint, stood Caspian, his eyes blazing with anger and grief. More worrying, though, was the crossbow that Lady Prunaprismia, sitting up in bed, held pointed at Caspian. Miraz looked at the new intruders with exasperation in his face.

"This used to be a private room." Edmund had to give the man credit; he certainly didn't act concerned about the sharp steel currently resting against his neck.

Peter, moving slowly towards Prunaprismia, glowered at Caspian. "What do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be at the gatehouse!"

Edmund held back a grimace as Peter unintentionally informed Miraz that they had a need for opening the gate. Not to mention he did not think Caspian would react well to Peter's accusing attitude.

He was right.

"No! Tonight, for once, I want the truth!" Caspian glared at his uncle. "Did you kill my father?"

Oh, this could be bad. One thing Edmund learned early on was that Caspian tended to be particularly oversensitive about his father. Though Caspian had been very young when Caspian IX died, he still apparently idolized his father. Which Edmund understood well, but it was going to lead into all sorts of problems if he didn't do something soon. As Prunaprismia looked at her husband in confusion at the accusation, and Miraz bragged about the Telramines taking what they wanted, Edmund sheathed his sword.

"Ed!"

He heard Peter's shout, but ignored his brother's implied negative command. Holding his hands out in a placating gesture, Edmund moved slowly towards Caspian and Miraz. Prunaprismia was now lowering her crossbow, stunned at the revelation that her husband was a fratricide. Edmund knew he needed to fully placate her if they were going to get out of this. "Caspian, this is not the time to deal out judgment. Remember, we came here to capture Miraz; we have no intention of killing him." Edmund hoped that his words, while aimed at reminding Caspian of the plan, would reassure Prunaprismia of their honorable intention. He walked behind Caspian, skirting slowly around a chair so that he could approach Miraz without going near the Lady and making her nervous. "This can end without anyone getting hurt."

For a moment, Edmund thought he had gotten through. Unfortunately, Miraz knew well how to manipulate his wife's emotions. "Yes, let us trust the word of a Narnian. Let us trust that the savages will let us live after they have gotten their use out of us. Let us trust that they will leave this room and not cast our son from the walls!"

The next few moments happened in a blur. Prunaprismia let out a scream that was more of a sob as she let fly a bolt from the crossbow. Edmund saw it graze Caspian's arm, but had no time to pause and check, as Miraz had used the confusion to dash for a hidden doorway. Edmund darted after him, jumping to tackle the usurper even as the door slammed shut behind them.

The tackle went wide as Miraz twisted away. Grabbing an off-balanced Edmund's neck, Miraz shoved the young king against the wooden door. Edmund's head snapped backwards, bashing itself on the hard wood. Pain flashed through his head and down his spine, and black spots blinded his vision as he sank to the floor. By the time he blinked them away and began moving past the pain, he could only glimpse Miraz disappearing down the hallway.

As he pulled himself to his feet, Edmund grew aware of the shouts from behind the door: Peter, yelling his name. There was not time to try and find a lever to open the passage. There was no time for anything. "Peter, I'll try and get him. You need to fall back." If they could at least capture Miraz, even if they couldn't take the castle, the raid could still be salvaged.

He could hear the frown in Peter's stern, "Edmund…" but ignored it.

"Go!" Edmund yelled, before sprinting down the hall after Miraz.

~*~

Despite a pounding headache, Edmund could still run fast, especially since the air in Narnia had restored much of the vigor and muscle memory from when he had been an adult. Therefore, he was able to make up Miraz's head start fairly quickly. Sword drawn, Edmund moved for a final lunge that would allow him to threaten Miraz into submission…only to be stopped by the blade of General Glozelle.

Telmarine general and Narnian king stilled, each waiting for the other to make the first move. His eyes never leaving his opponent, Edmund still saw Miraz's smirk as he came up behind his soldier. "Take care of him," Miraz ordered, his intention clear, before making good his escape.

As the two soldiers began circling each other, alarm bells began ringing. With that, Edmund knew their attack had failed. The element of surprise was gone, Miraz escaped, and Peter would be ordering the retreat. Aslan, please help them escape safely, he prayed, knowing he would have to find some way to escape this fight and reach one of the griffins who were waiting in reserve.

Right now, though, Edmund could only watch for General Glozelle's move. He had grown to know the Telmarine, who had, after the initial suspicious meeting, even came to trust Edmund with Caspian's safety. That was before Glozelle had changed from Caspian's guard to his attempted murderer; before Glozelle chose to be loyal to Miraz instead of the boy he had been entrusted to protect. It saddened Edmund, actually, since he believed Glozelle to be a good man at heart, and might have come to consider him a friend. But Glozelle's choices now led the two to be on opposing sides, swords drawn against each other.

The Telmarine glared at the younger boy. "I had thought you just left out of loyalty to a friend," Was that regret in Glozelle's voice? "But you are no mere stableboy by your stance. Where do you hail from? Archenland?" Obviously he thought Edmund was some foreign spy. Well, Edmund would have to disabuse him of that notion.

"I am a Narnian."

Glozelle frowned. "Narnians are beasts, not humans."

Even though he knew Glozelle spoke out of ignorance, Edmund growled in anger at the slander of his people. "Narnians do not order the death of family, nor do we wage a war of slaughter to achieve glory, sacrificing lives for politics. If that is human, then let us be Beasts!" With those words, Edmund attacked and the fight began.

~*~

The duel was not as lop-sided as perhaps General Glozelle was expecting. Glozelle was older and, presumably, more practiced; he had the advantage of his size and strength. Edmund, though, could use his smaller size and his speed to dodge the general's heavy blows. That, along with his training and experience, meant that Edmund could easily hold his own as the two fought.

Despite the quick strikes and parries, and the need for fast footwork, Edmund managed to guide their fight towards the end of the hall and an open door that led out onto the walls. The open-air battlements allowed for more maneuverability, a plus for Edmund's evading fighting style. Breathing hard with exertion, Edmund still felt confident that he could at least stall the general long enough for a griffin to notice his straights.

His confidence shattered as he glanced into the courtyard below, distracted by the impossible clamor of battle. His heart plummeted as he realized his ears were not deceived. Edmund stared as he watched Narnians fight Telmarines, saw Susan in her tower desperately trying to take out crossbowmen before they could slaughter her people. He saw Peter in the midst of the chaos, fighting like a madman instead of a king. Fighting when he should have already retreated from the castle. Peter, what are you doing!

Glozelle took advantage of his distraction to stab at the young king. Edmund barely lifted his sword in time to block, his mind still screaming, still denying that his brother had brought their army into what could only be a massacre. Anger rising, Edmund shouted and turned his fury on the Telmarine general. His strikes were harder, steel ringing as the swords clashed loudly. Glozelle seemed to waver under this new ferociousness. Edmund could only fight, couldn't let his mind focus on anything other than the flash of his blade and the movement of his opponent.

His anger-fuelled single-mindedness was his undoing; Edmund, in his blinded state, did not see the Telmarine crossbowmen burst onto the battlements. He noticed them only when his left shoulder burst with a flame of white agony as a bolt pierced the flesh and muscle beneath his leather armor. With a pain-filled cry, Edmund fell back against the cold stone, sword falling as he brought his right hand up to his chest. He tore his hand away as his sight cleared and he found Telmarine steel pointed at his heart.

The young king smiled grimly at Glozelle. "So, I see Telmarine honor hasn't changed in thirteen-hundred years. You know, most cultures consider it unethical for an outside party to interfere in a duel." The words came almost automatically as Edmund tried to breathe through the pain.

The general winced at the accusation. He did not seem very happy himself at his men's interference. Still, he kept his sword steady. "It is unusual to claim thirteen hundred years of knowledge of a people. Who exactly are you?"

Edmund would never understand the Telmarines' penchant for attempting to hold a civil conversation before killing someone. In the middle of a duel, yes, it could be used as a distraction, but it would be a much better idea just to kill the enemy when having the advantage. Still, he could not complain at the delay; and maybe it was prideful, but he didn't really want to die as 'Ed the stableboy'. "I am King Edmund of Narnia."

Glozelle's forehead creased in thought. "I recall no king by that name."

Edmund gave a half-hearted grin. "I believe most Telmarines would know me better as Prince Darksilver."

Though the crossbowmen, still standing at the ready, began murmuring, Glozelle just frowned. "Prince Darksilver is a fairytale."

"So were most of the beings you have slaughtered in your courtyard." As horrible as the sounds of the battle were, it was worse now not hearing anything at all. "You just got a few things wrong. I'm not a giant. I am a king in my own right. And you forgot one very important fact."

Glozelle blinked in confusion. "What?"

The general was answered as Edmund suddenly kicked out, pushing Glozelle back as feet met chest. Before the Telmarine could recover, Edmund was rearmed and standing on the high wall, heels pressed only against air. "It takes more than a shoulder wound to render me helpless.

The crossbowmen raised their weapons to fire, but Glozelle shouted, "Hold!" He walked slowly towards Edmund, looking up into the young man's face, seeing his intention. "There is no need for you to die like this. Your honor and fortitude have earned you quarter. Surrender, and your life will be spared." His face showed that his words held true, that Glozelle honestly did not wish to kill him. But a general could not go against the wishes of his lord, and Edmund did not believe that Miraz's intentions would match Glozelle's.

Edmund's face was calm, not betraying the fierce racing of his heart. "I'm afraid I can't accept your offer, General." Glozelle frowned again, not understanding. "You see, I've enjoyed Telmarine hospitality before, and if I had to choose between that and dying…well, I think," he took a deep breath and sheathed his sword before giving the general a sad smile. "I think I'll take my chances with death."

And with that, Edmund let his feet slide backwards and he was tumbling through the air. Wind whipped at him and he panicked slightly before the soft fur and hard back of the waiting griffin halted his fall. Scrambling to a position where he wouldn't fall off, Edmund bit back a shout as pain laced out from the bolt in his jarred shoulder. "We must hurry and rendezvous with the others, your majesty," stated the griffin, whom Edmund believed was named Kryn if he remembered correctly.

"No," he murmured. "Fly over the courtyard." He felt Kryn hesitate, but griffins are incredibly obedient Animals and so he turned and flew back over the castle.

Edmund felt his stomach turn at the sight. It was carnage. Narnian and Telmarine mingled in death, a mosaic of bodies against stone. And near the gate…Edmund gagged at the carpet of dead Narnians piled against the iron bars, a stack of corpses who were his soldiers, his friends. Perhaps even….Edmund closed his eyes for a moment as they passed over the gate before he looked again. No, there was Peter, riding a horse several feet behind the retreating Narnian army. There was Caspian next to Cornelius, and Susan being let down from the griffin who had carried her away from the battle. His family was safe and whole.

Edmund's heart ached, since he was fairly certain he was the only one who could say that now.