Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.
Chapter Twenty-One
"Your husband?" Oreius pressed his lips together, knowing the little Mare was frightened enough already. "Please, Lady," he said more gently, "tell us why he wants our Kings and Queen. Is he behind the attacks on the human settlements?"
The Centauress nodded, the shame in her eyes now joined by tears. "He's told our herd and others who follow him that the Great Lion has repented of bringing humans to Narnia. He says it is Aslan's will for them to be purged from the land."
Lucy glanced at Oreius, bewildered. "No. That would never be Aslan's way. Even if He were to decide our time here is over, He would not end our reign by this means. Not by the slaughter of innocents."
"No, My Queen." Oreius turned again to Demeter. "And your people believe this? You believed this?"
Head down, the Centauress nodded. "My husband is very persuasive, General."
Clearly those who had been deceived did not know the Great Lion well. Even if they called themselves His, they had not troubled to be close to Him, to know His true character and His ways. It was so easy to be led astray. But there would be time to discuss such matters another day. The damage was done, and there was precious little time to see it did not worsen.
"He means to take Narnia for himself," Demeter said. "I can see that now. Please, if you are who you say you are, Queen Lucy, come with me. Come at once." She looked at Oreius, dark eyes pleading. "Your army is with you? Bring them. Oh, hurry, please!"
Oreius nodded. "Lead us to them, Lady. As quick as you are able."
They hurried back into the forest, back the way the Centauress had come, and for a long while there was nothing but the sound of hoofbeats and the padding of paws.
Eventually, Darreth moved his mount closer to the Centauress. "He did that."
It wasn't a question.
The Mare's face reddened and she put a slim hand to her bruised throat.
"I know how it is," Darreth said. "I know how it is to trust someone, to love someone, and have him convince you that just a little bit of wrong is worth the good it will bring. To realize later that he's used you and betrayed you." There was something gentle and understanding in his expression. "I know, too, there's mercy and forgiveness to be found once you turn from that wrong. From Aslan and from the Kings and Queens."
She glanced at Oreius as if for confirmation.
"I have never found my Sovereigns ungrateful or unwilling to forgive, Lady," the General said. "Not in the face of true repentance. They strive as best they are able to follow the Great Lion in that."
"Thank you," she murmured, and then she drew a shaky breath. "I do not want to bring my foal into the sort of world my husband is determined to bring upon us."
Lucy pulled up closer to her. "A foal!"
"For the sake of my little one, My Queen. I could not let this happen."
Lucy turned to Oreius. "We have to hurry. She's been through too much already to go on much longer."
"Lead us to the place, Lady," Oreius said, quickening his pace, "and we will ask no more of you."
"I am not tired," she said, though her face was pale and drawn and there were dark shadows under her eyes. "Come. This way."
Romulus ran ahead and then back to the group. "What about Remus, Queen Lucy? He needs your cordial. I can take you to him. It's not far now."
Bast growled softly. "Babur will take care of him, I'm sure. He was . . . well when you saw him last?"
The Wolf nodded. "We'll be there soon. Hurry."
He darted into the forest and the others followed. A short time later, he gave a yip and a brief howl. "Here! Queen Lucy, they're here!"
In a little clearing, they found Babur and Remus. The Tiger was lying down with the Wolf nestled against him. Remus lay with his head lolling to one side, his breathing shallow and shaky and his right eye swollen shut. There was blood matted into the fur on the right side of his face, blood from a deep, curved gash in his skull.
His brother ran to him and nudged him carefully. "Remus?"
The other Wolf whimpered faintly and did not stir.
Romulus looked up at Lucy, yellow eyes pleading, but she was already off her horse and had the cordial in her hand. She poured one precious drop into Remus's mouth, and then there was a moment of breathless silence. An instant later, Remus took a deep breath and blinked hard. The swelling in his eye was gone. All that was left of the gash in his head was the last of the blood on his fur.
He leapt to his feet with a bark. "Romulus!"
The Wolf brothers nudged noses.
"Come now," Oreius said, glancing up at the sun. "We must hurry before we lose our light. Which way now, Lady Demeter?"
"Come."
The Centauress turned back into the forest and soon they were on the path leading west once more. The two Tigers fell into step side by side.
"Bast?" Babur said after a while, his voice low.
She glanced at him, huffed, and then turned her eyes to the path again.
The Tiger then looked up at Oreius, but the General could give him no consolation. Orders were orders for a reason. If he lost his High King, his golden colt, because Babur was lax in guarding him, it was not something he could forgive. He could never forgive himself if he lost both his colts and the Lady Linnet because all of his safeguards were not safe enough. Oh, Aslan, let us be in time.
OOOOO
"Bring them to me! Bring me the Usurper Kings!"
There on the hilltop above the remains of the Witch's castle, there with a host of followers from throughout Narnia, the majestic Centaur Zenon stood, hands raised as his would-be subjects howled and growled and squealed their adulation.
Peter swayed as Aurelius, the golden Centaur carrying him, set him on his feet. Fire shot through his injured leg. He would have fallen if the Centaur had not held him upright. Pain. Pain with every motion, with every breath, with every thought. What a fool he was to have let things come to this and all for careless, fateful decision, for wanting nothing more than a moment alone with his beloved Linnet.
He could see her now, her tear-stained face pale, her eyes full of grief and terror as they met his. She looked small and fragile in the grasp of Talfryn, King of the Giants, a porcelain doll in the hand of a careless child. How he had failed her. He had surrendered her not to death but to living death, to desperation and endless torment, a nightmare come to horrific life.
"Steady," Edmund murmured beside him.
"Oh, Ed."
Peter gave him only a brief glance before he looked away again. Another failure. Despite his battered face and bound hands, he stood tall at Peter's side, captive but unbowed. He'd been captured because Peter had been foolish, because Peter had been lax, because no matter how stupid Peter was, Edmund would always be there for him. And now Edmund was going to die because of it. He would die just like all those Zenon had already killed because their High King had not protected them. Failure.
Please, Aslan, it can't end like this. Save them. If I am to come to Your country, save them. Please. There's nothing I can do, nowhere to turn but to You. I beg you. A tear trickled hot down the side of his face. I beg you. If we are all meant to come to You now, let it be so, but please, please do not leave my Linnet to Talfryn. Oh, Aslan–
"See now, my true Narnians!" Zenon shouted over the rumble of his followers. "Are they not pitiful, these Usurper Kings? Little wonder the Great Lion has repented bringing them here! Little wonder He has decreed there shall be no more humans in our fair Narnia!"
There was a roar of approbation, and once again he held up both hands, basking in their praise.
"What have they done, good Narnians, but sit in their fine castle of Cair Paravel and demanded your service? Your sacrifice? How many of our boldest and bravest have died in their wars? How many of our younglings starve because they live in plenty? Has not the Great Lion seen this and more and rejected them from being His Kings?"
The mob shrieked at the injustice of it all, snarling and howling and even snapping their jaws. "Narnia for the Narnians!" they cried. "Narnia for the Narnians!"
Peter looked at Edmund, trying to force his battered head to make sense of the words. Surely these creatures, his own subjects, surely they could not be so deceived. Edmund tightened his jaw, his dark eyes turning hard, and Zenon turned a cold smile upon him.
"What say you, my Narnians? Shall we begin with the younger? With King Edmund, called the Just? Bring him, Maurus."
He nodded to the dark Centaur that had escorted Edmund to the hilltop. As the mob on the hillside shouted their approval, Maurus seized Edmund's arm and pulled him in front of Zenon.
Edmund stood looking up at the Centaur, every inch a King despite his disheveled appearance and lack of crown. "Why do you lie to them?"
His voice was calm and clear, and the crowd hushed to hear it.
"Why do you lie to them, Zenon?" he asked again. "Why do you say in Aslan's name things that are not true? The Great Lion chose us, the High King most especially, because He knew we would love this land and this people and care for them with all that is in us." He turned to face the Narnians, his back to the Centaur. "How many of you have ever met me or my brother and sisters? How many of you have even been to Cair Paravel? If you had, if you had bothered to speak to those who know us, who live near us, you would know every word Zenon tells you is a lie. Do you know how many times the High King has fought in the heat of summer or lain cold on a winter campground fighting for your land? Fighting for you? How many times has he been near death from wounds suffered in your defense? Or how often he has opened the royal treasury or the royal granary when our people are in want? Do you know how often my sisters the Queens have tended to the wounded? The sick? The needy? Narnia is known for her laws, for their justice and their mercy. Did you have such laws under the White Witch?"
A low murmur went through the crowd, and Zenon stamped one heavy hoof. "Enough of this! Do not let this silver-tongued enchanter deceive you. He speaks pretty words, but answer me this, Just King, you say you serve the Lion and that you are His chosen."
"I do."
The Centaur smirked. "If that is so, then why has He given you and your High King into my hands? Why is He silent?"
Without warning, Zenon shoved Edmund to his knees, holding him there with one heavy hand as he drew a narrow-bladed dagger from his belt.
Peter tried to struggle away from the Centaur who supported him, but he hadn't the strength. "Ed!"
Edmund didn't turn, didn't take his eyes from Zenon. A sudden gust of wind whipped his black hair into his face, but otherwise he was perfectly still. "If it is my hour, I will go. And my brother the same. But you, Centaur, do not hold our lives in your hands."
"We shall try that, shall we?" With a sneer, the Centaur raised his voice, the wind carrying his words over the hillside. "Great Aslan! I am here to do as You commanded me. If You wish me to stay my hand, speak!"
Dagger upraised, Zenon waited, but there was only the wailing of the wind.
Peter could hear Linnet sobbing from where she stood, but he did not turn to her, did not take his eyes off of the Centaur. Aslan, I beg you. Don't make Edmund and Linnet pay the price of my failure. Please–
"You see, my Narnians!" Zenon cried. "It is we, not these pitiful usurpers, who are the true followers of the Great Lion!" His own golden mane blowing wild, he took Edmund by the hair and pulled back his head, exposing his pale throat as he drew back the blade. "So, in the name of Aslan–"
Author's Note: Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN! Yes, I had to end it there. No, if you kill me you will never find out what happens next, so choose wisely. Please forgive me for taking so long to update. I promise I will never abandon this or any other story. More to come. Happy New Year and a special, slightly belated Happy Birthday to Lady Alambiel. If you are pleased to see more of this story, you can thank her. She has been most encouraging about me getting it done. Thank you, Lady A!