Author's Note: I apologize sincerely for the problems with the previous chapter, and the delay in posting this one. Hopefully all issues will be cleared up this time around and I will be posting the next chapter in the next few minutes, so you get two as payment for your patience.

Disclaimer: I own the OC's, not the cannon characters or Narnia herself.

26. Teammates

For several far-too-long minutes, Phillip sat with his King and whispered words of comfort. Not once did Edmund acknowledge that he heard Phillip. Instead, he seemed to only be aware of the great pain coursing through his back and shoulder. Nyle eventually walked over to the pair, his paws slightly fringed with blood. He carefully tilted their King's head back slightly, helping him breathe a bit. Phillip watched Nyle's grave face in hopes that he would find some sort of positive news. He was sorely disappointed.

"We need to remove the arrow. Pell, come here." The Faun skittered over and kneeled next to the Tiger.

"Yes sir," The Faun skittered over to his commanding officer, knowing full well what was expected of him. He was the only one who had enough medical experience to be considered the group's Healer, and he was the only one who was able to comfortably, securely, and properly assist their King. "I need a cloth, preferably a large one."

"Lind, your tunic."

"Yes sir." The Centaur stripped his armor and brown undershirt, quickly handing the latter to the Faun.

"This isn't going to be very pleasant," Pell warned. "I'm going to need as much fabric as I can get. This will bleed quite a bit, and if I don't stem the flow, he could die within a matter of minutes."

Everyone looked down to Edmund, whose tunic was already soaked with blood. "Search the King's bags," Nyle ordered. "Use anything you can find. We can replace everything later."

Phillip kept his eyes on Edmund as a couple of guards began to tear through their supplies. Edmund's skin was a sickly chalk color and rather clammy to the touch. He was trembling slightly and breathing sporadically at best. His breath came in quick, short, choppy gasps that were painful to hear. Phillip couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt to be the one doing the breathing.

"We need to send for Lucy," Pell spoke up again once the din had settled and he had a small pile of clothes before him. "Who here is the fastest?"

"Torith, would you go back to Anvard?" Nyle looked up at the Stag.

"I will, sir, as quickly as I can." He responded dutifully. With a bow, the Stag turned and raced in the direction they had come.

"Sir, why did you not send Edlyn?" Cynric asked. "Aren't Cheetahs known for their speed?"

"Yes," It was Edlyn herself who answered. "But we can only run so fast for so long. Torith's endurance far surpasses my own."

"Enough talking. Pell, what do you need us to do?" Nyle stared harshly at the Faun.

"Give me some room," Pell answered simply. "And do not rush him. Phillip?"

"Yes, Pell?" The Horse looked up quickly.

"I will need you to keep him calm. I can hold him steady well enough, but King Edmund cannot afford to go into shock. I'll need you to keep him alert and distracted. Can you do that?"

"Of course." Phillip almost pinned his ears at Pell's tone. The Faun greatly underestimated their King and his Horse.

With one deep, steady breath, Pell gripped the arrow and yanked. Edmund jerked and screamed as blood poured from his back. The Faun desperately tried to stem the flow as Phillip spoke softly to his King.

"It's over, Sire. You'll be alright. Just hang on."

"Ph…Phillip…" Edmund's voice was weak and hoarse, and the words gurgled in his throat.

Edmund coughed and blood speckled the ground in front of him. He shook terribly, his tremors bad enough to hinder Pell's progress in tying the wound. The soldier yelled at Phillip to do better, but Phillip ignored him. He focused solely on his King who was steadily getting whiter and whiter, and whose eyes were slowly beginning to glaze over.

"Focus on me, Edmund. I know it hurts. You just need to focus for a bit longer. It will be alright. I promise. Pell will fix you up, you just need to be patient."

Edmund said nothing, but Phillip knew he was listening. He blinked furiously, struggling to keep the tears back. The Horse continued to whisper words of nonsense as Pell tied a bandage around Edmund's chest to keep the pressure on the covered wound when everyone let go.

"That should keep him from bleeding out too quickly, but if he doesn't get help soon, there's not much I can do." Pell's voice was grave and weary.

"What do you mean? He's not going to die, is he?" It was Neci, the Centaur, who spoke up this time.

"The arrow pierced his lung. Even if I could sew the wound shut and keep him from bleeding to death, he'll inevitably drown within a few hours." The Faun wiped his brow and stood, turning to look at the horizon for any sign of Lucy or Torith.

"Will they make it back in time?" Edlyn whispered.

"I don't know."

Edmund coughed, breaking the sudden onset of terrified silence. More blood stained his teeth and painted the ground, forcing a quiet gasp out of the Cheetah and a gentle nuzzle from Phillip. The young King seemed to be only half conscious and completely unaware of his predicament. His eyes were half open and a hand was clinging to his Horse's mane weakly, stroking the Stallion's neck every once in awhile with a single finger.

"He'll hold out." Phillip said resolutely.

"How can you know? We have no idea how bad the trauma is, or how long it will take the Queen to get here." Pell nearly growled with frustration at the Horse.

"He'll hold out," Phillip repeated simply. Another bloody cough from the Human seemed to challenge that statement, with more blood than the previous coughs combined spilling out. "He must hold out."