Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.
Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?
A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.
Chapter Twenty-One: Progress
19 Greenroof 1014
Peter wearily stripped off his tunic and undertunic then tugged off his boots and socks before he splashed into the icy waters of the mountain stream. He shivered and stamped his feet before he dove beneath the surface. Another successful ambush of the Giants. The thought should have cheered him but it gave as much comfort as the cold water he was half-drowning himself in. They had yet to break the Northern Giants' will.
He surfaced in a silent gasp as the cold water combined with the cool northern wind to turn him into a veritable icicle.
"Do you intend to drown today, My King?"
Peter gave a little laugh as he stood up and then splashed back to the shore where the General stood watching him. "It does seem rather like the water and the land are attempting to kill us as much as our enemy. However, I think I shall survive this encounter."
"Always an encouragement, Sire," Oreius acknowledged without even a twitch of the lips to testify to his humor as he tossed Peter a thick towel. He looked around the portion of stream Peter had chosen to use for his ablutions and murmured, "I would prefer it, however, if you brought your guard with you the next time you choose to test your mettle against the mountains' streams. No unnecessary risks."
Sitting on a fallen log, Peter scrubbed his hair with a corner of the towel. "Forgive me, Oreius, but I needed . . . I simply had to-" He stopped then admitted without looking at the Centaur, "I needed at least a few moments where I was no one more than Peter Pevensie and bringing my Tigers to stand watch during an impromptu bath wasn't going to permit that." He braced himself for the inevitable lecture but it didn't come.
Risking a glance at the General, he was surprised to see a faint smile turning up the corners of the Centaur's mouth. Oreius bowed his head slightly. "Alambiel has similar protests." He flicked his tail and then added, "I have come to see her point better now that her being guarded is more of an . . ." he seemed to hesitate on the word before finishing, "inconvenience."
"Oh?" His eyes widened slightly as he suddenly realized what inconvenience the Centaur meant, no doubt, the same problem he sometimes had when wanting to be alone with Thalia. "Oh. I see, yes, that is tricky sometimes." Peter cleared his throat and looked at the stream again even as he felt his cheeks and neck begin to burn with his own embarrassment. He cast his mind about for a slightly less personal topic and blurted out, "Do you feel easier knowing she's at the Cair?"
All right, maybe he was as incompetent at changing the subject when he was embarrassed as Ed always claimed. The silence reigned so long that he finally risked a glance at Oreius. The Centaur was rubbing a finger along the neck of his tunic, no, along the length of chain for Kat's necklace. He answered softly, "During the days, yes. At night . . ." He stamped a hoof and allowed his words to trail off.
Peter gave a little nod. "I think I understand. It's a lot easier when you're too busy to think about it much." It was much easier when he wasn't lying alone in his hammock remembering how Thalia had giggled the two nights he had hung a hammock in the northern bower and persuaded her that they would both fit without being tossed to the ground or how soft and warm she'd felt when she finally slept in his arms those two nights.
"The Princess Consort is faring better?"
He jerked out of his memories, blushing again. "Oh, yes. Well, I think so. She hasn't been so sick that she hasn't been able to write again. I guess it was a passing illness, after all, Aslan be praised."
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Morrigan watched through a break in the trees as the fair-haired Son of Adam spoke to the dark horseman. She had discovered from Culloch that the dark General was the one who had killed Morfran. She would make sure he went into the pie still kicking what was left of his spindly horse legs. She had given her men special instruction regarding the Son of Adam. He was to be taken alive and unharmed.
Her men were creeping closer. They would be in the perfect position soon. As long as they did nothing to alert her prey. This war would end today.
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Oreius flicked his tail again as he walked closer to the stream. "Have you had news from the Just regarding his and your sister's journey?"
"Not yet, other than Edmund seriously regretting confining Corin's boundless energy to a space as small as the Splendor Hyaline."
"I see. Perhaps-" Oreius cut himself off as he caught sight of movement. "Arm yourself! Back to the camp!"
He unsheathed his swords just as two Harfang Giants burst from the trees, their passing tearing up the smaller saplings and breaking branches. Oreius reared up and shouted once more, "Fly, Peter, fly!"
But, his golden colt did not listen. Foolish, brave, stupid colt. Oreius barreled into one of the Giants, toppling him backward and slaying him with a vicious strike from his crossed blades. The Harfanger's comrade let out a coarse laugh and shouted gleefully, "Little king, little king, come to me. To Morrigan you go."
Oreius wheeled about to charge him as he bore down on his colt but another Giant entered the fray, blocking his path. The Giant's swinging club forced Oreius to jump out of the way and away from where Peter was desperately fighting two Giants without even the modest protection of a tunic. Oh Aslan, do not let this be the end of my colt. Oreius let out a war cry and sliced through the Harfanger's gut then as he dropped to one knee, blubbering pathetically as he clutched at the gaping wound across his fat belly, he reversed his strike and buried one of his swords up to the hilt in the Giant's thick neck.
The ground rumbled and then another Giant burst into view. However, this Giant was neither Harfanger nor Ettin nor any of the Northern Giants. Bramblebuffin caught one of the Harfangers and wrestled him away before the Giant could kick Peter as he finished off his opponent. Leaving the Harfanger to the Giant Buffin, Oreius cantered over to Peter as soon as he recovered his sword and took up a defensive position near the High King. He glanced over his shoulder at his golden colt, reassuring himself that there had been no permanent damage taken. The colt watched grim-faced and so pale even his lips appeared drained of blood as Bramblebuffin finished off the Harfanger.
A wave of fury slowly built up in Oreius as he escorted Peter back to camp. The Giants had been too careful. The fight hadn't lasted long but he had still seen that the Giants had been too careful of Peter as they attempted to grab him. He recalled the terrible plans Morfran and the Giantesses had had for his colts last autumn. Now, he feared the Giants had not yet released the idea of forcing Adam's blood to revive their own stock. He would not permit such a thing. He would end the colt's life himself before he allowed the Giants to have their way.
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"So, Morrigan, where is your prize? Where is the little king?" Culhwch laughed as he watched the Giantess' face grow dark and her hand whitened as her clutch on her spear became a choking one. "Tell us, Morrigan, where is your plan? You said wait but you did not. Foolish-" She didn't flinch when he hurled the name at her.
Instead, Morrigan turned her storm-filled eyes on him and sneered. "Hold your foolish tongue, Culhwch, if you can." She turned to the Ettin king who had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on her breast and shoved him over. "Wake, Grog! Wake! Bring me your greatest, your strongest warriors. We shall drive the Narnians back. We shall force them to drink the bitterness of defeat. Then they will be ours to do with as we will."
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The afternoon had grown late when the scouts brought word of a large force of Giants assembling on the north side of the canyons, some twenty leagues from where they had set up camp. Peter lunged into action, hardly waiting for Oreius to give the command. Slipping on his shield and buckling on his helmet as he ran from his tent, he barely noted that the army was mobilizing around him when he swung himself up onto Izar's back. Excitement churned in his veins. They were getting close. Maybe another month of pushing forward and he would be at the gates of Harfang herself. Forcing Borak to sign a peace treaty would do much to cow the other Giants. Even better if he also pinned Grog and his surviving chieftains. A few more battles and he would be home with his family, with Ed and the girls, and with his sweet Thalia . . .
Chaos reigned over the battlefield. Peter still maintained his seat on Izar's back but more than once he had fallen from the Unicorn's back and was only saved from a Giant's grasping fingers by the noble Beast's quick action and decidedly vicious attitude in battle. His nearly healed injuries had begun to burn with an old familiarity and in the back of his mind he could already hear the healers' fussing over him and trying to keep him from going to battle again. "Down!"
Peter leaned forward, nearly flattening himself against Izar's neck, the Unicorn's no longer pristine mane blinding him as a club whistled overhead so close that he felt it snag his tabard. The Unicorn whirled, hooves kicking and horn plunging. The Giant laughed. Peter straightened and plunged Rhindon deep into the Ettin's hand. He shouted a coarse oath and swatted at them. Izar let out a horrible horsey scream as they landed heavily. Peter heard the sound of crunching bone even as he was tossed some distance away from the Unicorn. He gasped for the air that had been knocked clean from his lungs and got to his hands and knees just in time to see another Ettin was dragging Izar away. The Unicorn's proud form was bloodied and covered in dirt as he dangled from the Giant's fist.
"No," Peter gasped. The Giant paid no heed to him, his odious laughter filling the air and drowning out even the sound of the warriors nearby. Peter struggled to get to his feet, dragging Rhindon along after him as he staggered after the Giant. "No," he breathed again.
It was too late. In his head, he knew it was too late to save Izar, to save the other Narnians being carried off by the Giants. Everything had gone horribly wrong. He needed to turn back. Peter kept putting one foot in front of another, following Izar's smudged form. He couldn't let the Giants turn the proud, brave, noble creature into a meal. By the Lion, he could not!
He tried to run but his legs refused to obey his commands. With every step, they trembled and shook to such an extent that he knew it was a miracle they had not given out already. Izar, the soldiers, his people needed him, and he'd led them to their graves.
"Peter!"
The call seemed to come from far off and he paid it no heed. He had to catch up to the Giants. Make them stop. That was why he'd come north, to stop the Giants. He had to stop them. He had to-
A large hand snagged the back of his tabard and yanked him to a halt. "Peter!" He tried to turn and swing Rhindon at the enemy keeping him from fulfilling his duty but his arm did not obey then his sword was snatched from his fingers. A moment later, he felt Rhindon's weight back in its sheath. Peter turned his head and was confronted with stern, dark eyes. Had they been set in a different, paler face, he would have thought they were Ed's. Ed. Concern trickled into the dark gaze. The voice came again. "The retreat has been sounded."
No. He shook his head and turned back to the Giants. His breath caught as he caught sight of a brown-haired Nymph being tossed between two Giants. Thalia. Oh Aslan, they had Thalia. Izar had stopped screaming. They had Thalia. He had to save her. He lurched forward, trying to run, but some Lion-forsaken enemy stopped him. Ironbound arms clapped around him. He couldn't break free. He had to get to Thalia.
"Peter. There is nothing we can do."
Thalia.
"It is not her, My King. It is not Thalia. We must leave."
He kept struggling. Thalia. She was screaming. Oh Aslan, she was screaming. He was spun about and then he felt something hard connecting with his jaw. The ground rushed up to meet him.
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A/N: Please Read and Review! O.o