Those of you who have read the book will recognize the first section. I understand why it was left out of the movie, but I still think it's a great scene! There is a lot going on in this chapter, so I hope it flows ok. Enjoy, and the next chapter will be even more intense!
Chapter 20
Treachery
Susan smiled into the rushing wind as it caressed her cheeks and tickled her lips. It was midmorning, and the sun's rays swayed across the forest floor as Aslan carried the two Queens quickly from the forest. Susan's long, agile fingers loosely gripped the soft fur of her Lord and steed as sounds of bubbly laughter danced behind her.
"Your hair," Lucy giggled as she attempted to rid Susan's dark tresses from her face. Both Susan and Aslan cocked their heads to the side in an attempt to glance at the struggling Queen. Aslan's mouth turned up into a one-sided grin as the deep rumble of his chest tickled the legs of his riders. Susan's joyous laughter soon joined that of her companions.
Before long, Aslan broke away from the trees and came to rest in the center of a spacious valley. Confused about their whereabouts, and having little clue as to what Aslan had planned, both Queens gracefully slipped from his back and stood silently beside him. Then, without warning, Aslan lifted his head, shook his mane, and roared. The hum was more powerful than before, a thunderous throbbing like an organ whose notes came deeper and louder until the very ground shook with the sound.
Susan gasped as a dark mass began to surround them from all sides. It was still far off, but as time sped by it rolled forward and grew like a rolling ocean hastening towards the beach. Shortly it was upon them, and with a shriek of joy Susan realized that it was not a mass at all, but a magnificent gathering of trees. As the rushing trees came steadily closer, they began to look less like trees and more like people, and then, just as suddenly as they came, they stopped.
Lucy's face glowed with happiness as pale birch-girls tossed their heads, and willow-women pushed their long, leaf-laden tresses from their faces. The queenly-beeches stood still before Aslan, their golden eyes staring adoringly at him. The men—shaggy oaks, lean and melancholy elms, gay rowans, and shock-headed hollies—all bowed before Aslan and called his name. Soon the movement turned into a swaying dance that grew and changed as new worshipers appeared.
"When did he appear?" Lucy asked Susan quietly as a small boy skipped between the tree people. He was dressed in only a fawn skin, with light hair and a face that was beautiful, yet wild. Behind him came a row of women, all wearing little and jumping to and fro in an untamed, capricious dance. The tree people shouted his name, or what Susan guessed was his name, for there were many names being passed about. "Bromios," came a voice, while another shouted "Bassareau," and yet another, "Ram."
Accompanying the group was a man riding a donkey. Silently to herself, Susan described him as quite large, while Lucy said without the slightest bit of concern, "He is rather fat, isn't he?" Susan went to scold her sister for such a rude remark, but the musical voice of the wild youth ended her rant before it could begin.
"Is it a Romp, Aslan?" he questioned gleefully, and both Queens assumed that it was, for the Lion beside them nodded his approval as the feral dance of the women grew with intensity while the guttural voice of the man on the donkey rang out.
"Refreshments!" he shouted as his mount swayed with the movement of the trees. As time continued and the dancing mass grew, vines began to filter through the group, their thin, smooth fingers wrapping around everything in sight.
"We're moving," Susan said in a breathless voice as she attempted to shoo a vine away from her hair. Lucy noted that she was indeed correct, for the vines had covered the ground creating a think blanket of green that seemed to be pulling them steadily along.
"Oh," Lucy said suddenly as she tugged on the arm of Susan's dress. "I say Su, I think I know who they are."
"Who?" questioned Susan while she continued to battle a vine.
"The boy with the wild feel about him is Bacchus, and the large one on the donkey is
Silenus. Don't you recall Mr. Tumnus telling us stories of them?" she answered excitedly.
"Yes, of course," responded Susan, "but I would not have felt safe with Bacchus and his wild girls if Aslan was not around."
"Well I should think not," replied Lucy.
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"His arrogance is his greatest weakness," Cara said purposefully to Peter as she adjusted the straps to his armor for what seemed like the umpteenth time. With a heavy sigh, Peter pulled Cara's fingers from his chest and forced her to look at him.
"I know," he stated simply. Cara pursed her lips and looked away from Peter's agitated frown. Truly her advice filled Peter with adoration the first few times she gave it, but after nearly ten minutes of constant fidgeting and instruction, Peter wished that she would simply remain quiet. "Cara," Peter continued while he pulled her away from the crowd that was gathering behind them and into a small crevice created by the turning wall. After settling his back against the cold stone, Peter pulled Cara against his chest and buried his head between her neck and shoulder.
"I'm scared for you," she whispered in a shaky voice.
"I know," he repeated his earlier sentiment, "but I need you to believe that I can beat him. I need you to know I will win." Peter pulled Cara away from his chest and found her dark eyes. Attempting to muster confidence she did not feel, Cara nodded stiffly to Peter.
"I know you will win," she said in a steady voice, her eyes never leaving Peter's.
"Good," he responded before placing a single kiss on her forehead and moving back into the large hall. Sighing, Cara closed her eyes and rested her head against the stony wall behind her. Aslan be with us she repeated silently as the sounds of pre-battle began to filter from the entrance of the How. After pushing another deep sigh from her lips, Cara opened her eyes and watched as Caspian and the Bulgy Bear walked steadily from the How and into the dim rays of the sun.
Next came Glenstorm and Edmund, the latter of which smiled softly at Cara as he moved past. Finding that she could no longer hide away from the world and ignore her responsibilities, Cara pushed herself away from the stone wall and looked for Peter. He stood not twenty paces from her, his fingers grasped around the hilt of Rhindon and his eyes closed in concentration. Although Cara could hear no words, the quick movement of his lips indicated that he was speaking softly to himself.
"Peter," Cara called. Peter mumbled a few more words before turning towards his Queen and squaring his shoulders. "It's time," she continued. With a silent nod Peter latched onto his shield and stepped forward.
"Hand me Rhindon," Cara ordered softly when Peter stopped before her. "The scabbard will only get in your way," she explained. Silently, Peter did as he was told and unbuckled the sword from around his waist. Cara took it carefully from his hands. "You will beat him," she added as Peter's worried eyes found hers. "You conquered a dictator far worse than Miraz when you were young and knew nothing of battle. I have no fear."
Although Peter gave no reply, the change in his eyes spoke loud enough for Cara to hear. Drawing in a full breath of air, Peter turned away from Cara and towards the exit of the How. Soft light poured in casting jumping shadows across the walls as Narnians cheered in anticipation of seeing their High King and Queen. Cara moved to stand beside Peter, and without another glance or word of encouragement, both royals walked towards the blinding light.
The sound was deafening. Cara's fingers turned white as she gripped Rhindon, for steadily coming into sight were the makeshift battle grounds and the hardened faces of the Telmarines. Suddenly the situation became all too real. Cara had no fear of dying, but the possibility of losing the man beside her was nearly too much to bare. Could the people survive if they lost their Monarch? Could she?
Fighting the overwhelming want to pull Peter back into the How and hide away from the world that was crumbling around them, Cara inhaled a sharp breath and briefly closed her eyes. She would be strong. She had to be strong.
Beside her Peter showed no outward signs of concern. His face was hard and cold and the tightness in his shoulders looked more like confidence than concern. Each step he took was filled with determination.
While Cara's eyes scanned over the mass of polished silver that glittered brilliantly in the sun's light, Peter's eyes never strayed from Miraz. The self-proclaimed King sat slightly slouched in a chair at the far end of the arena, Glozelle and his Lord's scattered around him. His eyes and posture lacked the refinement of Peter's; an outward indication of who was truly King.
Edmund and Glenstorm acknowledged Peter as he approached, while Caspian and the Bulgy Bear stood quietly at each corner of the arena. Peter paid no attention to any of them. Across the way Miraz adjusted his heavy gloves and turned slightly to Glozelle. "Should it appear to be going poorly…" his words dropped off as his eyes grazed over the bow in Glozelle's hands.
"Understood, your Majesty," the General responded before turning his eyes away from Miraz and towards the two Royals that now stood opposite them. His eyes caught Cara's instantly. Both nodded in acknowledgment. As Cara ended their silent conversation by turning her attention to Peter, Glozelle noted that her body showed no signs of the damage that it had received only days earlier. Dark magic? he wondered.
Cara held Rhindon out to Peter as Miraz rose to his feet. Cheers erupted as the sword moved from its scabbard and gleamed brilliantly in the sun. Following Peter's lead, Miraz grabbed his helmet from the hands of Sopespian. "I hope you won't be too disappointed if I survive," he said openly to the men around him. Sopespian shifted uncomfortably and glanced towards Glozelle. The General refused to meet his gaze.
Ignoring the silent meeting taking place behind him, Miraz shoved his helmet over his eyes and pulled his sword from its holding place. The muted gold of his now carved face hid the weariness of his eyes and cast an unmoving sneer across his features. Peter stepped forward without hesitation, his sudden movement pulling Miraz forward as well.
All noise ceased as the two men began to circle, both holding their swords high and strong. Cara stepped closer to Edmund, her finger's wrapping tightly to his and squeezing in terrified anticipation. Edmund held her hand securely.
"I see your whore returned to you," Miraz stated plainly as his sword indicated to Cara.
"Only after she escaped from you," Peter responded. "Twice." Glozelle smirked softly at the comment. Miraz tightened his jaw and looked quickly at the Lords behind him, half daring them to join Peter in his insults. Seeing that none dared, Miraz returned his gaze to Peter's.
"There is still time to surrender," Miraz continued, his voice level with fake sincerity.
"Well, feel free," Peter answered.
"How many more must die for the throne?" Miraz countered, his sword lowering as he did so. Peter's eyes took note of the action.
"Just one," Peter responded as he simultaneously lowered his face guard and moved swiftly towards a crumbled stone. Miraz crouched low and pulled his sword back to his chest; his body braced for Peter's inevitable attack.
Peter launched himself from the stone, the weight of his body propelling him directly towards Miraz. At the moment of impact Miraz circled, causing Peter's sword to miss him by mere inches. Recovering quickly, Peter turned towards Miraz and brought Rhindon down upon him. The blow was blocked easily, but the weight of Peter's strength vibrated down Miraz's arm.
The boy was strong.
Attempting to shift the attack, Miraz flung his shield towards Peter's face, the force of it knocking Peter sideways causing him to fumble.
But he was stronger.
With his sneer matching the one sketched across the features of his mask, Miraz continued his relentless attack. Each blow was heavy and random, the angry pulses forcing Peter to move quickly in order to keep is footing. The yells of the Telmarine soldiers increased with each new hit, their jeers of confidence laughing in the faces of their opponents.
Cara closed her eyes and clung desperately to Edmund's hand. Move, Peter she repeated silently in her head. Move away from him. Answering Cara's silent command, Peter skirted sideways causing Miraz to stubble forward. Regaining his footing, Peter spun quickly, his sword slicing along Miraz's back. The force sent Miraz to his knees. Cara opened her eyes as cheers of excitement sounded behind her. Before her Peter stood erect and ready as Miraz quickly clamored back to his feet and turned to face his waiting opponent.
They attacked at the same moment, their swords connecting and their armor clanging upon contact. Peter moved away quickly, the knowledge of Miraz's strength enticing him to keep his distance. Miraz yelled angrily as he swung his sword at Peter and met nothing but air. Fueled, Miraz attacked again, but Peter's light feet carried him away from the blade once again.
"Fight me," Miraz yelled as he swung to attack, he sword yet again grazing Peter's clothes. Finding himself at an advantage, Peter lurched towards Miraz, his shield shoving him back while Rhindon swung close Miraz's exposed torso. He missed, the armor on Miraz's arm stopping the cool blade from reaching his skin.
Stepping backwards from the force of Peter's weight, Miraz's moved his body low and shoved harshly against Peter, his sheer strength forcing Peter to fumble as his helmet scratched across his head and clamored to the ground.
Peter paid little attention to the cool sensation as the breeze caressed his sweat soaked hair and neck, for Miraz was instantly upon him. Ducking out of reach, Peter swung Rhindon low, the blade slicing through the thin fabric of Miraz's leggings and entering his skin. Miraz's leg buckled under the sudden pain as a sharp cry fell from his lips. Peter moved back from his opponent, the side of Rhindon glistening with red.
Miraz shifted back to his feet and cast his eyes angrily at Glozelle. The General shrugged his shoulders in response, the two men obviously having differing opinions on what going badly consisted of. Crying out in frustration, Miraz turned back towards Peter and attacked with ferocity. The assault was impulsive and uncalculated, giving Peter enough time to roll away from Miraz's blade and land securing behind him. Rising back to his feet, Peter threw his shield towards Miraz, but the man's large build swayed little under Peter's weight. With Peter unable to move away, Miraz shoved forward as he swiped Peter's legs from the ground.
Peter groaned at the sudden pain that shot through his back and forced the air from his lungs. Cara ran forward at the sight of Peter lying helplessly on the ground, but Edmund's arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders and held her back. "Peter," she whispered as Miraz stepped harshly on Peter's shield, the force rocking the stiff wood up and snapping Peter's unbending arm. Peter cried out in blinding pain as a horrifying crack echoed in his ears.
Cara struggled against Edmund's arms, tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. "Please," she called out in frustration, her mind not even grasping who she was begging to. Her heart stopped as Miraz's sword rose swiftly in the air before bearing down upon Peter.
Filled with adrenaline, Peter ignored his throbbing shoulder and stopped Miraz's blade inches from his face. Miraz pulled his sword back and struck again, but Peter rolled swiftly out of the way causing Miraz to fumble forward and haphazardly swing his sword in blind frustration. Unable to roll any further, Peter stopped abruptly and spun the opposite way, the sudden change causing Miraz to fall gracelessly over him.
Both men rose slowly, their fatigue apparent in the laziness of their limbs. "Does his Highness need a respite?" Miraz asked heavily, his staggered breathing making the words come out in slow pulses. Peter looked him over wearily. Although the man seemed beaten and tired, Peter's left arm now hung uselessly at his side.
"Five minutes?" Peter questioned breathlessly.
"Three," Miraz countered even though it was apparent that his leg was now near as useless as Peter's arm. After nodding once, Peter turned towards Edmund and Cara, a wince escaping his lips as his heavy shield touched the ground and jolted his arm. Edmund rushed forward and dipped his shoulders under Peter's good arm. Peter immediately leaned heavily against him and temporarily closed his eyes.
Miraz was in much the same condition as he wandered towards his General. "I assume you won't let things get that close again," he shouted as he threw his helmet to the ground at Glozelle's feet. Glozelle said nothing as Miraz lowered himself slowly onto his chair, his eyes briefly meeting those of Sopespian.
As soon as Peter reopened his eyes he sought out Cara. She moved to him quickly, her face flushed from the heat and her eyes brimming with worry. "I'm alright," Peter said softly as he came to stand before her. Cara gave a half-hearted nod.
"Pete," Edmund said quietly from under his arm. "You better keep smiling." Confused by the comment, both Cara and Peter followed Edmund's gaze, which was moving slowly over the people lining the front of the How. Understanding Edmund's intent, Peter raised Rhindon into the air and gave a shout of confidence. Unable to see the grimace of pain now sketched across Peter's features, the onlookers cheered in excitement.
"Peter, you should sit," Caspian said as he appeared suddenly with a small chair. Cara backed away to allow Edmund the room needed to help Peter lower himself into the chair.
"Cara?" Peter asked weakly as he situated himself. Hearing her name, the High Queen kneeled quickly before him. "I want you on Alvaro and inside the How," he said softly as he situated his shoulder.
"Bu—" she began to protest, but was instantly cut off.
"I do not think the Telmarines will keep their word," Peter stated simply. "I want you to lead the left charge, and Glenstorm," Peter continued as he glanced up at the General, "will lead the right." Cara rubbed the sweat from her brow and turned her gaze away from Peter. She could not decide if it was a blessing or a curse to not watch the end of the fight. "Cara," Peter added as he leaned close enough that only she could hear, "we'll get through this." Returning her gaze back to Peter, Cara nodded and pushed herself back to her feet.
"General, I will prepare the troops for attack. Stay beside your King until he orders you to me," she said with authority before jogging purposefully into the How. The General silently watched her go.
Glozelle's eyes were glued to Cara's fleeting shape when the voice of his King broke through his thoughts. "How does he look?" Miraz asked as he nodded towards Peter. Glozelle looked momentarily at Peter's weary form before pulling a long rag out of his bag and bending close to Miraz's wounded leg.
"Young," Sopespian responded. Glozelle smiled softly at the remark as he began to wrap the bandage tightly around Miraz's leg.
"But his Majesty is doing extremely well," Glozelle added offhandedly, "for his age." Miraz grimaced as Glozelle punctuated his words by pulling harshly against the bandage as he tied it off. Miraz frowned heavily at Glozelle before returning his gaze to Peter, who was now contorted in pain as Caspian eased his shield from his arm.
"I think it's dislocated," Peter said to Edmund once the wave of nausea ended. Edmund instantly came to Peter's side and began to examine his limp arm.
"Why did you send her away?" Edmund asked casually as his hands moved slowly over Peter's shoulder. Peter sighed deeply before lowering his head and voice.
"I don't want her to see me fail," he answered, causing Edmund to glance at him with concern. "What do you think happens back home," Peter continued solemnly, "if you die here?" Edmund looked at Peter in bewilderment. "You know," Peter stated as he found Edmund's worried eyes, "you've always been there and I never really thanked you. I want you to take care of the girls, and tell Cara that she started a fire in my he—" Peter's words were cut short as the sound of popping mixed with his cries of pain. Edmund rechecked that the arm was back in place before patting Peter awkwardly on the back.
"You can tell her yourself," he responded as he moved away leaving Peter grimacing on his chair. Caspian soon replaced Edmund as Peter attempted to rise from his feet, his arms supporting the ailing King from behind. Edmund returned quickly, Rhindon grasped tightly in his hands. With a comment of thanks to Caspian, Peter flexed his shoulders and grasped Rhindon by the hilt. The crowd behind him immediately broke into applause.
Peter walked wearily towards Miraz, his shoulder aching and his breathing ragged. Limping slightly, Miraz moved forward as well. No longer wearing his helmet, the pain was apparent on Miraz's face as he gathered his remaining bit of strength and lifted his sword into the air. Peter wasted no time. With a large grunt his face twisted into determination as he lunged towards his opponent. Miraz reacted instantly, throwing his weight against Peter in an onslaught of heavy blows. Their faces were no longer poised, but filled with the anger and pain that throbbed purposefully through their bodies.
Unable to keep his balance under the power of Miraz's force, Peter stumbled backwards, the top of his head brushing against a crumbled boulder. Determined to end the fight, Miraz attacked again, but Peter twisted his body quickly, the force causing Miraz's legs to buckle from beneath him. Lumbering back to his feet, Miraz turned just in time to be met with Peter's contorted face. Forgoing an attack, Peter latched onto Miraz's sword and ripped it from his hands. Tossing it to the side, Peter gripped Rhindon with both hands and swung with all of his remaining strength. Miraz crouched behind his shield, the power of Peter's blows jarring his shoulder into scorching pain.
Growing weary, Peter allowed Rhindon to slide just low enough that Miraz was able to catch the sword between his shield and his armor. With a perfectly angled tug Rhindon was pulled from Peter's grasp. Miraz dropped the sword behind him and flung the back of his hand towards Peter's face, the force causing Peter to cry out in pain. Refusing to slow his attacks, Miraz leaned into his shield as he rammed Peter. Feeling the air forced from his lungs, Peter gathered his remaining bit of strength and grasped the edges of Miraz's shield. His shoulders screamed in pain as he pushed the shield centimeters from his chest and held it at bay.
Face to face, the men continued to battle for control. Finding his strength waning, Peter gripped tighter to the shield and twisted his body. Miraz screamed in pain as Peter maneuvered behind him, the shield still clutched securely in hit hands. Unable to move his left arm, Miraz swung his right randomly at Peter, the assault knocking Peter backwards and freeing the shield. With Peter still reeling from the hit, Miraz latched on to his armor and tossed him towards the outside of the arena. Peter gasped as his hurt shoulder crunched into a boulder. His mind was foggy with fatigue and his limbs ached and trembled under his armor.
Peter could here Miraz approaching from behind. Defending his life, Peter rolled across the rock and onto the ground, Miraz's sword clinking down not a second behind. Filled with blind rage, Miraz fell onto Peter with his sword held high, but his attack was slow with fatigue, giving Peter the brief opportunity to shove him in the chest and push him into the air. As Miraz fumbled, Peter leaned forward and punched Miraz's still bleeding wound. Miraz cried in anguish as he reached to protect his leg.
"Respite," he pleaded repeatedly as Peter lunged forward with his fist held high. Wavering from the look in Miraz's face, Peter lowered his clenched hand and stepped back.
"Now's not the time for chivalry, Peter," Edmund reminded in a harsh tone. Peter looked to his brother before returning his eyes to Miraz, his arm falling limply to his side. With one last glance at his opponent, Peter slowly moved towards Edmund and Caspian, his back plainly to Miraz.
Lacking the courtliness of Peter, Miraz grabbed one of the fallen swords and gracelessly lunged. Peter turned instantly; his fingers find the hilt of Miraz's sword and tugging it easily from his fingers. With ill-fated timing, Miraz lurched forward as Peter fell to his knees, the sword sliding easily into Miraz's chest. Miraz's mouth fell open in surprise, the feeling of warm wet soaking his torso.
Ignoring the usual feeling of guilt that swelled instantly in Peter's chest every time he defeated a foe, Peter rose to his feet and pulled the sword cleaning from Miraz. The man winced, but displayed no other signs of pain. Consumed by pride, Miraz straightened his body and kneeled erectly before Peter. "What's the matter boy," he taunted when Peter refused to give the killing blow, "to cowardly to take a life?" Peter tightened his jaw and lowered his sword completely.
"It's not mine to take," he responded before turning towards Caspian and holding the sword to him. Caspian looked blankly between the sword and Miraz before stepping forward. His eyes never strayed from the tyrant kneeling at Peter's feet as he lifted the sword from Peter's outstretched hand. Peter moved away, stopping only to lift Rhindon from the ground before coming to stand beside Edmund. Both King's watched as Caspian aligned the sword with Miraz's throat.
"Perhaps I was wrong," Miraz said softly as he looked down the length of the sword. "Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine King after all." With one last look at the boy before him, Miraz lowered his head and awaited his death. Caspian yelled; a noise filled with anguish. He pulled the sword higher before forcing it downward into the stony ground. Miraz looked up slowly, his face covered in uncertainty.
"Not one like you," Caspian whispered as he leaned forward. "Keep your life," he explained as his pushed himself away from Miraz, "but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom." Miraz looked away from Caspian, his eyes downcast and tired. With one final glance at the mass of Lord's standing behind their fallen leader, Caspian turned back towards Peter and Edmund, loud applause erupting instantly from his new people.
Glozelle watched the display of mercy, his heart swelling with pride for his future King. The moment broke when Sopespian slapped Glozelle harshly on the back and stepped into the arena. The General watched as Sopespian lowered himself before Miraz.
"My King," the Lord said gently as he wrapped his arms around Miraz's torso and lifted him from the ground.
"I'll deal with you when this is over," Miraz responded as he held the smaller man tightly to his chest, his voice gruff and filled with hate.
"It is over," Sopespian sneered as Miraz cried out in pain, an arrow shoved securely under his ribcage.
Glozelle watched with wide eyes as Miraz stumbled away from Sopespian and fell to his knees, a red tipped arrow sticking distinctly from his side. Not waiting to see his King die, Glozelle reached for his horse and jumped easily onto its back. "Treachery! Treachery!" Sopespian called frantically from behind him. "They shot him! They murdered our King!"
Peter turned quickly and pointed to his archers. "Be ready," he called before looking towards his General. "Glenstorn, go to Cara. Wait for the signal." Nodding, the centaur entered into a gallop and disappeared into the How.
"Peter!" Caspian suddenly yelled as he pointed behind the High King. Peter moved quickly, the man attempting to attack him crumbling to the ground as Rhindon sliced easily through his neck.
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Cara knew something had happened, for Alvaro's body tightened beneath her as his ears pricked forward and his tail swished in anticipation. Behind her stood the majority of Narnia's soldiers, all filled with the buzz of anxiety and excitement as they clutched large clubs and thick tree limbs
Without warning a rumble rocketed through the chamber with a force that shook the stone walls around them. Dust sprung into the air and floated onto the armor and faces of the troops. Moments later the thunder repeated, but closer and deeper, the noise making Alvaro lean heavily on his haunches and shake his mane with nervous enthusiasm.
"Steady," Cara called to the troops behind her, their restlessness becoming apparent as the room continued to shake with each new blow. Cara's heart began to pound painfully within her chest. Had Peter lost?
"My lady," Glenstorm called as he rounded a corner and came into sight, his sudden appearance shaking Cara from her thoughts. "It has begun," he stated as he skidded to a halt before her. Cara nodded in understanding before Glenstorm jumped back into a gallop and moved along the line of troops to lead the right charge. The tension in the chamber mounted as the walls continued to shake from pressure of the attack above.
"Come on," Cara whispered to herself as Alvaro continued to tremble beneath her. Slowly it came; a mounting rumble that flowed through the ground like a wave, the noise growing steadily louder the closer it came. The Telmarine cavalry was charging.
"Narnians!" Cara yelled once the sound was clear and consistent. "Charge!"