Disclaimer: I don't own the Pevensies, but I do own the Oak trees, the rebels (whoopie for that huh?) and the nomads.
Author's Note: I'm sorry, again for the wait for this chapter. I actually find myself wishing I had a little more excitement to offer you guys, but that will have to wait just a little bit longer. In the meantime I've discovered that I love writing filler scenes. Also that I hate writing battle scenes. They're a hassle to keep track of and somehow I always wind up writing them out to be really boring unless I can focus on one certain character. Now, may I just ask: How many of you are reading this story thinking "There's not enough Hurt!Edmund in this"? I'd like to know since I'm re-working the chapters that follow this one and have room to squeeze in a little Ed-whump :) The passage below was written by me FYI.
Chapter 24: "Strength"
"I was born with a scream. I grew under the gentle guidance of my parents. My life was filled with passion and emotion. As I grew, not only taller, but older, I learned. I learned to speak. I learned to read. Learned control. Thought. When I was a man I found a wife. Lovely thing. Our love was never easy. It was a storm. Like the ocean. I could have lived a thousand lives and never known anyone like her. I grew older still. My eyes took in the world around me. I changed over the years. I learned more and more. Changed. I became wiser and forgot the passion of my youth. My wife died of old age. I mourned her and hated the fate that had been dealt me. How could I live now my love was gone? I grew older still. Raised grandchildren. Became wiser as well. Until one day I watched my granddaughter as she played. Her friend took a toy from her and she screamed. She pounded the ground and whipped up a fuss. Her mother, my daughter in law, came over to chastise her. And I smiled. I could not help myself feel upset about my daughter in law. How she forced my passionate, little granddaughter to be silent. And I felt in me a rage I had not felt since the days of my youth. It was my heart coming alive I realized. I had been given a chance to do it all again. But this time it would different. This time I would not let myself be ruled by passion. I would not disregard powerful emotions in favor of thought. This time I would feel and think."
The area around Cair Paravel was in a state when Peter arrived. Phillip was sweating and panting under him, but barely tired from running. It seemed the same was valid for all the riders and Centaurs. Many of the nomads had been forced to wait at Caldron Pool until more mounts could be brought to them. Until the rest of their tribes could take a hidden path across the mountains. Peter had learned too late that an ancient rift existed in the rocks that divided Narnia from Telmar.
The same rift that allowed the nomads to bring their carriages and horses with them every summer. Only it was too far for Peter to bother. He knew his brother had been sent safely to the Cair, but had no idea if he had arrived. It was the main reason for his haste. The main reason for pleading Cillo to carry Valera on his back when there weren't enough horses.
Carriages had been built in record time to be drawn by the Dogs, Wolves and Great Cats. A sacrifice that Peter wasn't about to forget. But still they had been forced to leave more than half of the nomads behind.
All through the night the small group had sped. Tumbling over rock and stone. Bursting through rivers, low from the long summer. Waking dozing Dryads and Naiads in their haste to combat the enemy that threatened the castle.
It was early morning when they arrived. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon and the sky was still more blue than yellow. Vanilla clouds dotted the heavens high above them and lent a serene feeling to the air that Peter, regardless of how hard he tried, couldn't feel. They slowed their frantic pace only after Cillo and Flit the Falcon reminded the king about the rebels. Peter reluctantly sat back and allowed Phillip to pick a slower pace. It was only when the Horse suddenly huffed he even remembered who he was riding. He had never even asked the Horse if he would carry him, assuming Edmund's dear friend was as anxious as he to see Edmund.
"How are you doing, Phillip?" he whispered, though several in their little group heard.
The Horse ticked his ear in a way Peter had learned meant amusement. "It's been years since I've run like that. It makes me feel like a colt, your Majesty." And there certainly was a bounce to his steps that Peter couldn't dismiss.
"I take it you heard about Edmund?" Peter couldn't allow Phillip's hope to make him careless or worry-free.
"Arroll told me before she left for the castle." The Horse puffed. "My Boy is alright, I feel it in my shanks. Don't worry, King Peter."
Slightly relived by the steed's faith, Peter allowed himself a quick smile. Not saying anything else, he patted Phillip's neck and continued on in the brisk stride. It wasn't until they heard the clatter of weapons and saw the smoke of fires they dismounted. Valera slid soundlessly from Cillo's back and the rest climbed out of the carriages.
All who could do so crawled to the hill that hid the rebels from view and peered over the edge. Peter could see them waking up. Strapping on armor, warming up stiff limbs. They probably thought it would be just another day of their siege. They probably thought this was the day they seized Cair Paravel. He sneered and flinched when their mocking laughter reached their little perch.
Only Romel's hand kept him from bursting into the camp and destroying their one chance for a surprise attack. He allowed himself to be nudged back to the little clearing where their group was hiding. "They're laughing, thinking they've won." He paced the small expanse of grass, gripping his sword in a white-knuckled grip.
"If it's not too forward, Sire-" Cillo interrupted himself when all eyes, including the thunderous ones of the king, turned to him. "but…perhaps it would be wise to temper your passion with consideration?"
Peter looked at the Centaur for a long moment. Everyone there felt certain he would fault a simple soldier for daring to correct his king. When his shoulders dropped and his eyes softened most of them drew relieved breaths.
Romel included. He was slowly beginning to realize that Peter's greatest force was also his greatest hindrance. His passion. His emotions. The trait that made him so magnetic was at once also the thing that made him frightful. A long forgotten memory forced its way upon him just then. The first king he had served was very much like Peter. He had been a man of passion. A man of emotion. It was what eventually led to his demise, but also what made him a force unto himself.
"Thank you for the advice, Cillo." Peter graciously nodded and began pacing much more pensively. "We need to wipe them out once and for all," He was surreptitiously scanning the faces around him. The Dogs, the Wolves, the Great Cats. Even the Irins. Even Zoren and Rillian. "For that we need the army that's currently holed up inside the castle. I need Oreius to lead a charge after we attack."
"A war on two fronts," Barrow said calmly. A faint hint of a lupine smile on his lips. "Very wise, your Majesty."
"We need a messenger-" Peter's eyes caught those of Flit Falcon who was perched on a branch not too high above them.
He flew from the branch and alighted on his king's arm when it extended. "What does my king need?"
"I need you to fly unseen into the Cair and find General Oreius. Tell him of our position and of our plan. Say his high king will give the signal to attack."
"Yes, your Majesty." Flit was off in a matter of seconds, quickly becoming invisible in the tall oak trees and the lingering morning mist.
"What's your plan of attack, Sire?" Cillo asked.
"The royal army will be forced out of Cair Paravel like a spear. Only Gryphons and Birds of prey will be able to break formation. We spread out like a fan and attack from the opposite side. That very hill." He pointed to the hill behind them where they had sat moments before.
"We only have a few horses among us. How do you see us attacking them?" Romel asked. "They've got more men and probably mounts."
"We have the advantage of knowing the forest." Peter's smile sent a chill rippling through the Irin. Even more so when the king allowed his gaze to drift to the surrounding trees before smiling. "Cillo, wake the Hamadryads."
The Centaur smiled as well and turned, tagging a couple of Narnians to follow.
"The Hamadryads don't follow the law of man." Valera said quietly. "They won't fight on the side of humans."
"They will if I ask." Peter said with an air of arrogance. "It's been a long time since you were last home. I don't expect you to know, but it wouldn't be the first time they followed my lead." He was still looking among the tree crowns for signs of life.
"I think you've got a screw loose, your Majesty." Archer blurted before darting a worried glance at Romel. "With all d-due respect." He lowered his voice. "The Dryads aren't like the Hamadryads. They're not pretty ladies made from flower pedals and leaves. The Hamadryads are a separate race-"
"Trees come to life. I know." Peter interrupted. He was getting fed up with the constant murmurs of doubt. He felt they had been going on since the beginning of the trip and was slowly reaching the end of his rope. "You shouldn't presume to know more about my home than I. You probably weren't much older than I when you were banished and a lot of things have changed." His voice was nearing an angry hiss.
"Your Majesty," Cillo cautiously interrupted when he returned to the clearing. Everyone turned to him. "They're ready."
The Oak Hamadryads were a race not to be addressed lightly. When one of them moved they could sometimes rip up roots for miles, and that was when they were happy. The sibling who had the best relationship with them was unsurprisingly Lucy. She had loved them since the very first day of queen-hood. The Oak Trees had since then moved and relocated in a circle around the Cair. A part of the very grove the rebels now hid in.
It was, as the Trees said, their way of always guarding their favorite queen. At that moment Peter loved them for it.
"Now we just wait for confirmation from Flit." He smiled at Cillo and couldn't help smirking at Archer as well. "You'll get to see the difference a thousand years makes."
Edmund was watching the sun rise, when others would have watched the rebels camped out on their front lawn. He despised them for taking the liberty. The nomads were one thing. They had politely asked to borrow the space it took to set up their fair. But these heathens had snuck across his borders and ripped up the entire field so the Narnian archers would have nothing to burn. Did they not realize how long it would take to repopulate that field? That every blade of grass was special?
He was seething when something out the corner of his eye caught his attention. A bird, landing on one of the many messenger rails along the balconies and windows of Cair Paravel. He left his command to Kanell and pulled Oreius with him inside.
There he found Panicus, but no sign of his sister. "Have you seen Queen Susan?" he asked the Monkey.
Panicus shook his head and darted worried glances around the hall. "No, put them there!" he shouted to four of his smaller cousins who were carrying a makeshift bed for the wounded. "I havn't seen her, your Majesty. The last we spoke she was going to the kitchens."
Edmund nodded, already walking towards the balcony he thought the Falcon might have landed on. "Will you tell her I'm in the Eastern wing if she asks?"
"Of course."
He nodded and took off with Oreius in tow. The two of them sped up abandoned halls till the sea began glinting through the windows. The sun was only just cresting the horizon. "Check in there?" he asked Oreius who veered off as quickly as Edmund uttered the command. Edmund himself went into another room that Lucy often used as a drawing and reading room. He stepped onto the balcony and took a look, but no Falcon. He sighed and turned. He was halfway out the room when Oreius called.
"In here, Sire."
He jogged through a wide open door into a room that was especially designed for the Birds of Cair Paravel. Plenty of shelves, mirrors and water basins everywhere. There, on his general's arm, he spotted the Falcon. "Flit."
He bobbed his head. "Your Majesty."
"Your sister arrived safely. She's been sent to Anvard to alert King Lune of the happenings here." Edmund told the Bird.
Flit nodded again and stretched his wings when Oreius lowered his arm slightly.
"What news have you for me?"
"Your brother, the High King, is sitting just beyond the Oak Circle, your Majesty."
Edmund couldn't help the smile that lifted his face, but quickly sobered when a worry popped into his mind. "Is he well?"
"He is," Flit nodded. "He is with your soldiers, the four Irins and some of the nomads. They plan an attack on the rebels."
"Excellent." He glanced at his general. "I was getting tired of waiting anyway."
Oreius cracked a hint of a smile, which was quite much for the usually stoic Centaur. Flit cleared his throat. "His Majesty asked me to tell you, they will be attacking from the opposite side of the main gates. He will give a signal when he needs your Majesty to attack."
Edmund nodded and a hand unconsciously slipped to his chin as he thought. "My brother knows we'll be funneled out of the gates. It's barely wide enough for two lines, let alone three. The rebels would have the advantage in seconds if we just marched out and faced them."
"He mentioned the Gryphons and the Birds of prey, your Majesty."
Edmund's brown eyes were wide as he listened to the scout. "They'll be the only leverage we have should my front fall."
"Your brother will not fail, King Edmund." The Centaur looked at him with just the hint of pride in his eyes. "His family is in this castle."
Edmund looked at the general and suddenly had a flash of fear. What would he do once Oreius died? Granted Centaurs lived long lives, often twice as long as humans, but Oreius was old when he and their siblings first arrived. How would their battles look once the wise general was no longer there to advise them? How would their children's battles look?
As if sensing the fear in his king, Oreius stepped forward with Flit on one arm, and placed the other on Edmund's shoulder. "Fear not, my King," His voice lowered. "You are not alone."
Edmund glanced down when the weighty stare became too much and only remembered Flit because the scout battled his wings in slight discomfort. He knew Falcons. They were determined creatures. They didn't do well with nothing to do. With no purpose. "Master Falcon," The Bird looked up. "I need you to fly and tell my brother I am well. Tell him we are ready." Flit nodded. "When you have done that I need you to fly to every Bird scout that is still missing and tell them Narnia marches to war against Calormen."
If Birds had the ability to look surprised Flit surely would have sported the expression just then. "When you've found your cousins," Edmund continued. "-fly to Anvard. Tell King Lune and ask if he can possibly aid us in any way. Tell him we should be there before the week's end."
The Bird nodded.
"Be off."
He lifted from Oreius' arm and flew out the same window he entered by. As he left, Oreius looked at his king and started following him out when he turned. "Queen Lucy."
"She's still in Tashbaan and not by choice, if my instincts are at all correct." Edmund said with hate in his eyes as they made their way out of the castle. "Do you know if Celer has returned yet?"
"He has. Shall I call for him?"
"Do that." Edmund said sadly. "He hasn't seen his family in a long time, but if we're going to war I need him with me."
Oreius nodded, apparently understanding.
Outside they were met with the same tense silence as before. Half the royal army was busy manning the walls while the day shift prepared for another attempt to hold off their enemies. Except this day they would do so much more than just hold them off, Edmund decided. He stopped in the center of the courtyard. "All hands to attention!" he barked.
Every Animal or Creature there, except for a handful of guards along the walls, rushed to meet him and hear what he had to say. "Outside my brother is waiting for us." A rumble of excited murmurs met his statement. "He prepares to charge as we speak. I want you all to get ready to march out. Today we liberate Cair Paravel and tomorrow we march on Tashbaan."
The murmurs turned to silence. Everyone looked at their king in surprise, and some with apprehension.
"Cyn." The Gryphon captain stepped cautiously away from the rest of the men. His Gryphon guard behind him. "I need you and your scouts to fly out and call every Narnian soldier to war. Tell them to come to Cair Paravel as soon as possible. Speed is of the essence, stealth is not."
"We shall return by nightfall." The captain nodded and turned to assign flight routes to each of his men. "Zizi, fly west. Go by the River Rush until it ebbs out, then head north towards the marshes. Otonoca, Sully. Divide the eastern shore between the two of you. Alert the giants to the consequences of failing to follow their king's command."
The two scouts nodded, though Sully sent a longing look towards the castle before he took off. Cyn turned back to his king. "I'll head north. Contact every living soul that ever swore loyalty to this country."
Edmund nodded gratefully and watched the mighty creatures take flight.
Across the gates of the Cair, behind the Oak Circle, Peter watched four Gryphons leave on the morn of battle. He frowned and wondered what the devil Oreius was thinking. Why he was sending his best offensive force out moments before the attack.
"Sire, Flit is back."
The Falcon was perched on a fallen log in a clearing a bit away from the first one. Around were men and Creatures alike. All of them wrapped up in the haste with which the Bird had obviously flown. "Your Majesty!" he cried the second he saw Peter. "Your brother lives. He is well."
For Peter it was as if a stone fell from his heart.
"He tells you that he awaits your signal."
"Do you know why he sent away the Gryphons?"
"He is calling all of Narnia to him. Says he intends to march upon Tashbaan, your Grace." Silence sank over the gathered like a clap of thunder. "To free the Queen."
Peter nodded. He had suspected that Lucy wasn't simply spending her last weeks of summer in Tashbaan out of politeness. Obviously Edmund had the same thoughts and the sense of mind to act on them. Anger raged inside him at the thought of anyone holding his baby sister prisoner. He should have killed the Tisroc the first time that fat king tried to hurt his family. With a clanking of weapons his mind snapped back to the present. Before he could ever get a chance to take his pound of flesh from the Tisroc's hide he would need to defeat the rebels. "What of today? How are the men?"
"Well as far as I could see. Not that many wounded. Queen Susan has the cordial-"
"I figured." Peter mumbled.
"And she is taking great care of any injured."
Peter's eyes softened at the thought of his gentle sister. He wondered how she had handled their absence and made a silent vow to be more considerate in the future. Susan never complained much. She was capable of performing most things on her own and did so with the utmost grace. Thus Peter often overlooked her in favor of their two youngest siblings. "Very good, Master Falcon. What else did my brother tell you?"
"He asked me to fly out and find as many Birds of the Narnian army as possible. To bring them all to Cair Paravel." Peter nodded and was surprised when the Falcon continued. "When I finished the king asked me to fly to Anvard and ask King Lune for his help as well."
Peter studied the dutiful Bird a little closer. Edmund had always been fond of Falcons. All Birds of prey, really. Peter was beginning to understand why. "Very good. Will you be alright with the task he set upon you?"
Flit flapped his wings quickly. "I take honor in the faith he has placed on me, Sire. And it has been awhile since I've spoken with my sister. She is in Anvard at the moment."
Peter smiled and nodded. His brother certainly had a way of inspiring loyalty in people. It helped that he was smart and empathic enough to take his subjects under consideration in a time of strife. He looked up and nodded again, this time to Cillo. "Prepare for battle."
The soldier smiled in the most menacing way Peter had ever seen and let out a yell to those around them. "To waaar!"
Bellows of consent rang out and everyone drew their weapons. It was only as they were about to walk out Peter noticed the Irins. He quickly approached Romel and pulled him aside. "I'll understand you'd rather not fight." The Irin looked at him in surprise. "You promised yourselves to never again follow a king, right?" Peter remembered that conversation with his brother.
To his surprise Romel smiled. "We're soldiers, my King. And we want to help. What help would we be if we failed to do the one thing we do well?"
At his smile Peter did as well. His eyes brightened and relief rippled through him. "Thank you," he whispered and clapped Romel's shoulder before passing by him to lead the advance. Romel was left speechless as his three friends sided up next to him. Valera with a smile.
"Perhaps they're not that bad after all?" She clapped his shoulder the same way Peter had and continued on. Even Archer sent his commander a mocking grin in passing.
It was only when Thale approached him with a concerned frown Romel snapped out of his strange trance. "Captain?"
"I haven't been a captain for a long time." Romel mumbled.
Thale chuckled quietly to himself and gave his captain a soft nudge. "You've always been our captain…Captain."
Romel looked at the young man, the friend he had known for almost a thousand years. The boy he was. The old soul he was. The soldier. The son. The brother. The husband. He was reminded of someone he had not thought of for eight hundred years. A lovely Dryad named Valina. Birch and pretty as a picture. How she had kissed him goodbye the last time he ever saw her. They would have been married, he and she. Raised a whole bunch of little Fauns and Dryads. He was a captain then.
He started walking to follow the Narnians and his friends. His king.
As they burst forward with the giant Hamadryads and their unique war cries, he smiled. Perhaps he could be that man again?
AN: I know I said that battle scenes were boring, and so I'm opening myself up to any suggestions you might have. If you feel you need something (as I mentioned before about the Ed-whumpage) just let me know in a review. I'll try to do your requests justice. As always, I love you all, my little snowflakes.