Disclaimer: I do not own any of CS Lewis' books or characters or actors that play the characters.
OMG I'm so sorry this took so long!
Chapter 25:
Caspian brushed snow and droplets of ice out of Peter's hair. His fingers were numb with cold. The iron shackles were painfully heavy on his wrists as Caspian brought the other's trembling hands to his lips.
"Is it dawn yet?" Peter asked hoarsely, eyes staring listlessly into the distance.
"Almost," said Caspian, getting the word out difficultly from a dry throat. Peter shivered in his arms and the Prince shifted them around so that Peter was more lying on top of him than on the freezing ground.
"I'm so cold…" Peter murmured tiredly before his blue eyes slipped closed. He rested his weary head on Caspian's shoulder.
"It's going to be alright," Caspian kept repeating softly, like a prayer. "Someone will come for us. We'll be alright."
"I don't think we will," Peter replied, stopping the anxious flow of words by touching Caspian's lips with his fingertips.
Time dragged on and the air grew even colder. Both of them were feeling at once that it was terrible to wait like this, but at the same time, how the wait could not be long enough.
The sky was still dark when they heard the general's steady footfalls and looked up from where they were curled around each other. Glozelle had silently guarded them through the night, keeping them safe like a watcher from afar. Now, the general's eyes looked tired and bruised, and sad.
"It is time," Glozelle said softly and Caspian reflexively held Peter just a bit tighter.
Guards came and took them, separated them for a painful moment. They were marched, on stiff legs, through the camp. Peter expected jeers and mocking calls, but none came. Instead, the soldiers, young and old, looked on with solemn faces as their Prince was paraded before them.
Weaponless, stripped of armor, with dirty hair and face, Caspian still refused to be cowed. Even with the guards' hands gripping his arms, Caspian walked with a high head and stoic face.
While Miraz's infantry had no love for Peter, they still looked on their condemned Prince with respect and admiration. They removed their helms as the prisoners passed, heads bowed in a silent show of reverence, and Peter smiled to see his lover so brave.
They were marched to a clearing. A small group of soldiers had gathered and Miraz stood among them, crown on his head and sword by his side.
The King looked more somber and terrible than Caspian could remember, but the Prince refused to be afraid.
The two boys were pushed together for a while, as the guards took their places. They stared into each other's eyes, frightened, yet strengthened by the other's gaze. Their faces were pale and dirty, their lips trembling and almost blue.
Inexorably, their eyes were drawn to the wooden block. It was held down by ropes that were in turn, staked to the ground. There was a smooth groove cut into the block of wood for the prisoner's head.
Caspian felt Peter sag slightly against him. The Prince, himself, felt faint. There it was: their seeming end. The executioner in his horrid black mask was standing off to the side, axe hefted in burly hands. He turned to Peter and looked into frightened blue eyes.
Oh, what was there to say?
There was no time left for declarations of love, nor frenzied promises of salvation.
It was Peter who leaned up and pressed chapped lips to Caspian's. It felt so final, the farewell kiss.
They took Peter first, pulling him away from Caspian, and the Prince lurched forwards at the last minute and grasped Peter's arm.
Caspian lifted his shackled wrists to Peter's face and brushed a gentle hand over the Narnian boy's cheek, letting his fingers rest briefly on the painful scar. He saw the guilt in Peter's eyes – I'm sorry you came for me. I'm sorry you're dying with me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – and Caspian couldn't bear it.
"I regret nothing," Caspian said fiercely. "I will die, but I will go to death loving you, Peter Pevensie. I don't blame you, not for anything."
At these words, tears ran down Peter's scarred face. Yet, despite the sorrow, there was new peace in those blue eyes.
They pulled him away then, and Peter was made to kneel at the block. He looked so calm now, as he lowered himself over the block, hands gripping the rough edges to steady himself. Slowly, as if doing nothing more than lying down to sleep, Peter stretched himself out until he was prostrate.
Caspian wept then, at the sight of Peter, so beautiful, so calm. The early morning light seemed to gather around the fair boy and Peter's skin seemed almost pearlescent. The Prince's breath caught when Peter's hair caught the early morning rays and turned to delicate gold.
Caspian flinched when the executioner bent over the boy and ripped the top of his shirt down to Peter's shoulder blades, aching to see such fragile beauty treated so roughly.
Still, Peter remained calm and still. Before the executioner moved to tie his hands together, Peter lifted himself up just enough so he could turn his head and look at Caspian. There was a gentle smile on his lips and the Prince could read in Peter's eyes those heartfelt words, I love you forever, for as long as the stars themselves do shine.
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Edmund couldn't fall asleep and Susan worried that he was sick. She sat by the side of his cot, stroking his hand.
Susan was alarmed to see him looking so sad.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"I'm worried," Edmund said rather gravely.
"About what?"
"You, Lucy… everything. It all seems so awful, especially now."
"Well, we've been through hard times before, Dear…"
"Yes, but… now it seems all the worse, because we're here, together, and I know it's got to be awful before it gets any better. Do you see?"
"I-I'm not sure I do, Ed."
Edmund sighed and turned his face slightly into the pillow. "Will you sing to me, like you used to? I remember you had such a lovely voice."
She smiled and touched his hair with gentle fingers. "I'm not sure you remember right. I don't think I know any songs, really. It was Mother who used to sing to us… all the time."
"And Peter," Edmund said, laughing softly.
"Yes, and Peter. Not me, though."
"You must remember some songs," Edmund insisted. "Please, Susan?" He looked up at her, almost apprehensively. It was as if he was silently saying, if you sing to me, it would mean that you've forgiven me.
"Well, I… I suppose I do remember this one."
Edmund smiled and lay his head down as Susan began humming a familiar melody, her voice hesitant and shaky, as if from years of disuse. Lucy propped her head up from where she lay nearby, an unhappy little look on her face, as if jealous that she was not the one being sung to.
"Nightingale…. Sleep, dear baby, sleep…"
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Miraz was bent over to speak in Peter's ear, and Caspian couldn't hear what they were saying. The executioner was standing by, impatient that the king had stopped him.
Peter's pale shoulders were shaking slightly, but the boy's face remained impassive. Caspian could tell the king was getting angry, whatever he was saying to Peter. The condemned Narnian was speaking too now, and the king did not seem to like his response.
It was then that Caspian saw it, a flicker out of the corner of his eye. Looking carefully, he saw it again: something small and something furry was darting about between two trees, a few yards back. His heart jumped in his chest and Caspian bit on his lip.
Miraz was stepping away from Peter now and Caspian saw the king tensely signal the executioner.
The Prince's eyes were glued to the line of trees where he could now see the silhouettes of Glenstorm and Rynelf and a few others of the soldiers. Caspian tasted blood on his tongue as he bit down to stop himself from crying out in sheer joy.
The executioner was approaching the prostrate figure, axe hefted in his hands. With a quiet grunt, the massive man raised the blade above Peter's body. Caspian could see the slightly quickened rise and fall of Peter's breathing, the eyes that were blinking back tears.
Save him, save him, Caspian chanted mentally. He glanced furiously at the tress where he saw the Narnians.
He could see Glenstorm's grim face partly shadowed, the centaur's body pressed close to a tree. He could see the slight tremor in Rynelf's hand as the soldier gripped his sword.
There were too many Telmarine soldiers. There was no way they could get to Peter in time! There were too few of them…
The executioner's axe was poised above Peter's pale neck. Caspian's breath caught.
"No!" Caspian cried in pure agony, pulling away from his captors with all his strength, perceiving that his lover was doomed.
Just as the axe began its deadly downwards arc, there was a sharp slicing sound from somewhere near the ground. The large man screamed and jerked as if his feet were pulled out.
Peter gasped, frozen in shock, when the heavy axe slipped and slammed into the block next to his head. In an instant, Reepicheep and his mice leapt up from the ground and attacked the Telmarine executioner with a dozen pin-sharp swords.
As the large man fell to the ground under a barrage of attacks, Reepicheep jumped up to Peter and cut the boy's bonds with his sword.
The guard to Caspian's right shouted a warning and moved to stop the attack. Thinking quickly, the prince flung the chain of his shackles over the guard's neck and twisted. As Caspian brought the groaning man to the ground, all around him came shouts of battle.
From every direction, the Narnian soldiers seemed to materialize from the trees. A handful of centaurs, led by Glenstorm galloped up with broadswords drawn. There were birds that attacked from the trees with talons and beaks. The men, Rynelf among them, charged forward. Though outnumbered, they attacked the Telmarines with reckless fervor. Miraz's men were immediately up in arms and fought back, easily overcoming the element of surprise.
"Run, your majesty!" Reepicheep shouted to Caspian before diving into the fray.
Peter found himself dazed and struggling to stand. He fought to untangle his hands from the broken ropes and rolled away just in time to avoid being crushed by a fallen foe.
He managed to get to his feet, staring wildly at the confusion around him. Suddenly, there was a painfully tight, yet reassuring grip on his arm. Caspian, who had managed to free himself of his shackles, grabbed onto Peter and held him upright.
The Prince was holding a blood-stained sword and his face was pale. Only one word came from Caspian's lips, "Run!"
Then Caspian was running, pulling Peter along as fast as he could. As Peter ran, stumbling after the prince, he realized what sacrifice the Narnians had made.
"We have to go back!" he gasped, turning, but Caspian's grip on his arm was relentless. Unwillingly, Peter was yanked along with Caspian through the woods as the sounds of battle rang behind them.
Peter screamed when he was grabbed by the hair from behind. Viciously, he was yanked back by King Miraz's who had appeared in the midst of all the fighting, red-faced with anger.
"I will lie cold and dead before I let you go with him," Miraz hissed in a voice of pure hatred. Peter gasped in pain and tried to free himself.
"Let him go!" Caspian shouted from somewhere nearby and there was the unsheathing sound of a sword and a scream, and Peter felt the grip on his hair loosen. Still held tightly by a bruising hand, Peter saw that Miraz's other hand was stained with blood and that the king's side had been wounded by Caspian's sword.
"Let him go," the Prince repeated fiercely, holding the bloodied blade up to the king's face.
"You would slay your own uncle?" Miraz said through gritted teeth, and Peter stilled in his struggles, looking to Caspian with wide and pained eyes.
"Caspian…" Peter gasped breathlessly, shaking his head.
"I would kill you," the Prince snarled. "I'd rather it be a fair fight, but let him go or I'll run you through right here and now."
Miraz glared for a moment, still clutching onto Peter, and Caspian's fierce eyes stared right back.
"Go, then!" the king shouted, flinging Peter forwards so hard that he stumbled and was almost impaled on Caspian's sword. The Prince quickly grasped Peter in a relieved embrace.
"Go, little prince, and take your sullied bride with you," Miraz said in a voice so venomous that it made Caspian and Peter stop in their tracks. "But you and your Narnian army will fall. I will crush your forces until there is nothing left of Old Narnia but dust, and you…" Miraz stared hard at Peter, who blanched. "You will come back to me as the spoils of war, led back to me in chains. Everything, everyone that you love will die and you will live to suffer my rule!"
Even as Caspian pulled on his arm to run away, Peter felt rage rise within him. He yanked out of Caspian's grasp and stood tall, glaring at the king. "No, Your Majesty," he said, almost spitting the words out with disgust, "no, you will die. You will die without honor, without friends, and I curse you!"
The sounds of the Telmarine soldiers coming after them could be heard as Miraz stood stock-still, staring at Peter. It was Caspian who finally grabbed Peter by the arm again and they both ran, leaving the king behind.
Peter found himself being dragged along, barely able to keep up. The wind tore at his face and he could hardly breathe as he and Caspian through the woods, fearing that they would be caught at any moment.
Miraz watched them go as he pressed a hand against his wound, hissing in pain. It was superficial, but still stung as the red streamed out between his fingers. Despite his anger, he couldn't help but be impressed by Caspian's sword-work.
"Sire!" Glozelle called, running to Miraz's side. "Are you hurt?"
"Fall back!" Miraz's shouted to the rest of the pursuing Telmarines, pulling away from his general. "Let them go. Let them go…"
For the Telmarine king even then, had little doubt that his army could defeat the Narnians. And if there was chance that he could yet come out of this war victorious, then there was chance that Peter would come back to him, in chains, yes, but alive.
The king sighed and swayed on his feet. His fingers were warm and wet as he kept bleeding.
Some of the soldiers, however, were not so quick to heed their king's command. A flaw in commanding such a large army at once with very few officials was that instant orders were hard to propagate. One especially anxious squadron of men continued to fire their crossbows at the retreating fugitives.
One nearly struck the Prince as they ran. On and on, they fled, until they were forced to stop abruptly when a drop in the land appeared. Dozens of feet below them was the River Rush. It was nearly all frozen, with enormous shards of ice floating it its depths and they could see no bridge to cross the gorge. Peter gasped weakly and clung to Caspian, his legs feeling as if they would give out. Behind them, they heard the soldiers running, the baying of hound dogs, and the unmistakable shouts of recognition as they were spotted and would soon be trapped.
"Peter, we have to go…"
"Ohh… I can't," Peter said weakly. "I just can't!"
"Peter, come on."
The sounds of their pursuers were getting closer and Peter cried out when a barrage of arrows whizzed past their heads.
"We have to go! I can see a way down. Come on, I'll help you," Caspian urged, supporting Peter about the waist and gently pushing him forward. Slowly, they stepped over the edge and tried to find footing to take them down safely.
However, they ran out of time when the Telmarines finally caught up with them. Caspian looked and saw the soldiers at the ledge, crossbows at the ready and decided there was nothing for it.
"Jump!" the Prince shouted at Peter, who was a little ways below him. Caspian steeled himself and leapt for the water while Peter did the same. Caspian heard him scream as he fell and tried to keep his eyes on Peter's pale face and flailing limbs. He closed his eyes when the impact came all too soon.
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Peter could feel a dull yet terrible pain in his chest. It felt like someone was pounding on him with a mallet. He tried to move his limbs but it felt like he was moving through sludge. It was cold and dark around him and he thought he was suffocating. Vaguely, he felt lips press against his mouth and air being breathed into his lungs.
With a painful gasp, he jerked awake and found himself lying on his back on the riverbank. He coughed and water spurted out from his mouth to stream out on either side of his cheeks. There was an excruciating blow and he realized that it was Caspian who was leaning above him, pounding hard on his chest.
With another gasp, Peter lurched onto his side and vomited up river water and bile until he retched. Still disoriented, he flopped helplessly onto his back. Caspian fell on him with a desperate little cry and Peter realized that the Prince's face was wet.
Peter brought up shaking hands to hold onto Caspian and he was shocked to see his them torn bloody.
"You cut them on the ice," Caspian said hoarsely, still clutching at Peter.
The ice…
With a slightly tremor, Peter then realized how cold he was and that he was shivering violently. He tried to speak but could only manage a shaky moan.
"Are you hurt?" Caspian asked anxiously, hands framing Peter's face.
"C-cold…" Peter mumbled through trembling lips.
Shakily, Caspian stood and spent some time trying to get Peter up as well. "We can't stay here," he said worriedly, glancing around him for signs of danger. "They'll be after us. I think the current's carried us south of Beruna and we might be able to get our bearings if we move away from the river. We need to find shelter."
Slowly, they set out. Caspian had one of Peter's arms over his shoulder and they moved at a painfully sluggish pace. Caspian was bearing most of Peter's weight as the other boy could barely stand. Caspian himself wasn't in much better shape, also shivering with cold and sporting injuries, but he, unlike Peter, was stronger for having not spent the last few days in imprisonment.
There were woods all around them and Caspian was trying to navigate along the river, but the wind, coupled with the chilled air was taking its toll on Peter's weakened body. The Narnian was wracked with shivers and could barely keep on his feet, so Caspian half-carried Peter deeper into the woods to find some shelter.
They hadn't traveled far when Peter stumbled with a sharp cry of pain. He was unable to speak with how much his teeth were chattering and the prince suspected broken ribs with how Peter was hunched over. With a twist of guilt, Caspian realized that it was probably himself who broke them, when he was trying to force water out of Peter's lungs. Caspian, though afraid of being spotted and captured should they linger too long, lowered Peter to the ground and tried to tend to him.
At first, Caspian tried to gather sticks and start a fire, but his fingers were too numb and trembled to much. The prince then removed Peter's sodden shirt and tried to warm him by rubbing the chilled skin.
The prince gasped when he saw for the first time, the scores of marks and scars that marred the fair torso. There were old wounds that looked like badly-healed whip marks and some newer wounds that still bled. Sorrow and anger consumed Caspian for a moment as he imagined the abuse that had been inflicted upon his lover and he had to press a hand to his mouth to stifle a groan. Still, he suppressed those emotions. He would rage and mourn later, when he had gotten Peter to safety.
When gentle friction failed to revive Peter or stop the frightening shivers, Caspian tried to get Peter standing and moving again.
"Come on, please," Caspian grunted, heaving the boy into his arms. "I can't carry you, Peter. We have to find help. Walk with me, Peter…"
Peter was mostly unresponsive, but somehow managed to stumble along awkwardly as Caspian supported him. He grew more and more apathetic as they walked on, the cold bringing him closer and closer to death.
It was an hour later when Caspian finally had to stop. Peter had all but collapsed against him and the prince no longer had the strength to carry on. Laying his lover down again on the forest floor, Caspian stripped off some of his own clothes and lay them over Peter. He lay on top of Peter, shivering in his despair.
The sun had disappeared behind dark clouds and the wind was so cold. Peter's skin felt icy beneath Caspian's cheek. With the last of his strength, Caspian fumbled around for Peter's hand and held it tightly.
How terrible it was, to have gone through so much to save him, only to lose him now!
He must have swooned from exhaustion because the next thing he knew, a noise woke him up. Caspian immediately became alert when he realized that there was someone standing over him. It was a fierce-looking Dwarf with a wrinkled face. Caspian gulped and froze, staring hard at the arrow tip pointed right at his head. Reflexively, he reached for his dagger but realized, too late, that he had lost it.
The Dwarf looked over Caspian intently with its beady eyes before saying harshly, "What business do you have in these woods? Are there any more of you hiding about?"
"Please," Caspian said, trying not to flinch at the Dwarf's murderous look, "I would only beg for shelter…"
"Shelter!" said the Dwarf. "I'll die before I offer help to a Telmarine!" He made as if to loose the arrow.
"Wait!" Caspian cried, his voice cracking with desperation. "If you must kill me, cruel creature, then I can't stop you. But save him. Help him or he will die. Please." With frantic hands, Caspian gestured to Peter, who was breathing shallowly.
The Dwarf paused and seemed to notice Peter's unconscious form for the first time. The homely creature stared at the pale boy for a long while, its eyes darting from Peter's face to Caspian several times.
"Well, alright then," it finally spoke, not quite lowering the bow. "I suppose you'd better come with me."
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Rynelf knew Susan was almost half his age and a rather slight creature, yet he stood with his battle-bruised face bowed before her, unable to look her in the eye. Behind him, the small contingent of men and beasts, the remainders of Caspian's rescue party shifted uneasily.
"How many men were lost on this foolish mission?" she asked, and though her voice was quiet, it sounded thunderous to Rynelf.
"I-I'm not sure, Lady," Rynelf replied, still staring at his boots. "Some of them may have been lost when we were fleeing, but they could have survived, perhaps if we were to look for them…"
"I asked you, sir, how many were lost?" said Susan, louder this time. Rynelf could see her fingers twitch at her sides, as if she was stopping herself from making fists.
"Eight, my Lady," he said in a small voice.
"Eight…" She chuckled mirthlessly. "Eight of my soldiers, dead or missing, because your little group decided to pull a suicide mission! That's eight fewer soldiers that we have on our side, Rynelf!"
"Prince Caspian thought it best that-"
"Prince Caspian is not king here, or have you forgotten?! Is his command as good as mine now?"
"We had to do something."
"You could have waited for me to come back! We could have made a better plan than this!"
"Please, we didn't know if you were coming back at all…"
"So that's it? The moment I step outside this camp I'm assumed to be as good as dead?"
"Begging your pardon," Glenstorm interrupted Susan's angry tirade, stepping forward. "Do not blame this man for what happened, nor the prince. I gave my authority for the party to move out, and if you have any trust left in me and my wisdom, believe that it was a good decision. You will be happy to know that the prince succeeded in rescuing your brother."
"Well where are they, then?" Susan demanded, her voiced strained, her eyes desperate. She wrung her hands together.
"We don't know," Rynelf said. "But we did see them escape. They ran for the river, and it may have taken them south."
Susan sighed heavily and brought a hand to her forehead. She closed her eyes tiredly for awhile. She looked so vulnerable, her anger melting away to become fear and weariness. Her hair hung limply around her face, unbound and shielding her tears.
"Very well then. Since you've all started this rescue party, you'll come with me to finish it. I'll head for the river and find my brother if I have to overturn and burn the entire western wood."
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Notes: Once again, I'm so sorry for abandoning this story for like... a month! Thanks to everyone for reading and as always, please feedback and lemme know what you think!