Chapter 26


Edmund winced as a powerful blow from Miraz's shield knocked Peter's helmet off. A hit like that was sure to disorient the younger combatant, and sure enough, Peter was barely able to block the next few strikes.

The duel had been going badly for the High King from the start. His initial strikes had been given using a fighting style that used agility more than strength. After a few jarring hits from Miraz, however, he had fallen back to his usual moves. Unfortunately they were the usual moves from when Peter had been a fully-grown man with a dozen years of strength-training behind him. Now, blow for blow, Miraz had the advantage.

But when Peter remembered to use speed instead of strength….Edmund smiled as Peter proved his point. He can get through Miraz's defenses and slice at his unprotected legs, just like that. As Miraz howled with pain, Edmund's smile faltered. Miraz was sending a fierce look, not to Peter, but to Glozelle.

The Telmarine general's hands tightened on the crossbow he held, much to Edmund's alarm. He tensed, readying himself to jump forward into the field of combat at the slightest twitch of Glozelle's fingers. His movement must have caught the general's attention, and Glozelle met his eyes. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like forever before Glozelle nodded at Edmund, hands lowering the crossbow. Edmund breathed a sigh of relief; clearly Glozelle remembered their own duel, or perhaps even the words the Just King had spoken at the Telmarine camp.

Edmund turned his attention back to the field just in time to grimace as Peter was knocked to the ground, barely rolling in time to miss Miraz's foot coming down with full force. At least he remembered some of what I told him. Peter quickly scrambled up, but only got to his knees before Miraz brought his sword down on the High King's back. Thankfully it glanced off his right spaulder. It was a painful blow, but Peter managed to breathe through it and roll into Miraz's knees.

The Telmarine fell over Peter, jarring his shoulder against the hard stone of the field of combat. Peter tried a backhand stroke from the ground, but Miraz gathered his wits to block it. The two clambered to their feet, both combatants breathing hard from heat and exertion.

Edmund frowned as neither warrior moved to strike, though both were at the ready. He looked beyond the field and saw what must have caught Peter's attention: Susan and Caspian were riding in from the woods on their horses. Worry caught in Edmund's throat. Lucy wasn't with them; which meant she had either gotten through the Telmarine line, or…

He shook his head. There wasn't time to think, he had to focus on Peter, who was now limping to their side after having apparently called for a respite. As Edmund helped Peter, picking up his helmet and supporting his back, Caspian and Susan dismounted and hurried towards them. They didn't even have to ask before Caspian reassured them: "She got through, do not worry."

Edmund was sure the relief in his eyes mirrored Peter's. The blond king nodded. "Good work. Are either of you hurt?"

Susan shook her head. "We're fine. Which is more than can be said for the Telmarines." She gave Peter a concerned look. "Or you, for that matter."

Peter brushed off her worry. "You better take a place with the archers. I don't expect the Telmarines are going to keep their word." So Peter had noticed the crossbow as well.

Susan bit her lip, then moved forward, pulling Peter into a gentle hug. "Be careful Peter. I…" She didn't finish, but Edmund knew what she wanted to say. It's what each of them thought whenever one of the siblings was in danger. I don't want to lose you. They never said it aloud, as if not to tempt fate, but it was always there under the surface.

Peter's face reflected Susan's distress, and Edmund almost instinctively felt the Narnians grow uneasy. Their king and queen were acting as if things were hopeless, and it was affecting morale. "Keep smiling," he cautioned them, a phrase used often to remind one another to continue showing the royal mask. So as Susan ran to join the archers, Peter saluted the Narnian army with his sword, bright, false smile on his face. Edmund smiled as well, and a rough nudge forced Caspian to do the same.

As the cheers of the Narnians faded, Edmund and Caspian helped Peter sit on a fallen rock, removing sword and shield so they could look him over better. Peter hissed as Edmund kneaded at his right shoulder-blade. "It's bruised, but doesn't feel broken."

"Anywhere else?"

Peter shook his head. "That's the worst." He gratefully took a canteen from Caspian, who hurried to clean the bits of blood off Rhindon. As he did this, Peter turned to look at Edmund as he busily readjusted and tightened his armor. Edmund did not like that look. It was a look of trepidation and resignation; one showing that Peter was all-too aware of how dire the situation was at the moment. Peter breathed in and squared his shoulders as he spoke. "I know you don't want me to say it…"

"Be quiet, Peter," Edmund warned, eyes narrowing.

Peter shook his head. "Edmund, please, I need to tell you…"

"No!" hissed the younger boy. He grabbed Peter's good shoulder and brought his mouth close to the older king's ear so that only he would hear the fierce whisper. "Now you listen to me, Peter. When I said that you won't die, I bloody well meant it. You will not die. I swear by Aslan, you will not die, even if I have to break every rule of combat and honor to make sure of it! Understood?"

Peter's eyes widened, shocked that the Just King would even suggest interfering in the duel. "Ed…"

"Understood?"

Reluctantly Peter nodded and Edmund pulled back. The respite was ending, so Caspian handed Rhindon back to Peter, as did Edmund the shield. When he offered Peter his helm, it was refused; understandably, since the helmet tended to block Peter's vision as well as cause overheating. It was still a dangerous choice, since a blow to the head could easily be fatal. Edmund was relieved, however, when he saw Miraz refuse his own helmet out of arrogance; it evened the odds a bit more.

Peter entered the field with almost shocking vigor, his eyes hard and cold. He rained blow upon blow down on Miraz with abandon, forcing the shocked Telmarine back. On the side of the field, Caspian turned to look at Edmund. "What did you say to him? He fights as if he is possessed!"

Edmund kept his eyes on the duel, watching as Peter gave an angry yell when he hit Miraz's spaulders with a ringing strike. "I just told him what he needed to hear." He would not say more. There was no need to confess to Caspian that the Just King had sworn such an unjust act.

It brought bile to his mouth just thinking about his oath, but Edmund refused to recant, especially seeing its effects on Peter. The High King now fought like a demon: not for his own life or for Narnia, but for the sake of his brother's soul. Peter knew as well as Edmund that for the younger king to take such an action as sworn would be tantamount to murder; as the only way to save Peter's life would be to take Miraz's without any warning or challenge. To do such a thing…it went against every aspect of justice and righteousness. It went against ever fiber of the Just King's being.

But he would do it. If it meant Peter lived, Edmund would destroy himself. And Peter knew this, which was why he was now fighting with such ferocity: he did not want to allow a situation where Edmund would see fit to make good on his oath.

That determination gave Peter new strength, and he was putting it to good use. Edmund could easily see that Peter had changed styles again. He was fighting strength with speed, avoiding blows with quick steps, forcing Miraz to expend energy trying to catch him and avoid Peter's quick stabs and strikes. It was a balance, though, as Peter expended more energy himself for the necessary speed. He needed to wear Miraz down before the exertion became too much.

Edmund choked and he heard Caspian swear in shock as Peter deliberately discarded his shield. The younger king might have to start doubting the usefulness of his words, if it made Peter do something like that. Yet it seemed to work, since the decrease in weight and bulk allowed Peter to dance around the Telmarine with greater agility.

Miraz was faltering. He was barely able to turn and block the High King's strikes, let alone try to get in his own hits. Repeated blows rained on him. The heat, the exhaustion, the pain finally got to Miraz and he fell to his knees, sword clanging on the ground beside him. "Respite," he coughed desperately. "Respite."

Gritting his teeth, Edmund tried not to groan as Peter held back, giving consideration to Miraz's request. It was wrongly asked for: by the standards of most duels, respites could only be called when both combatants were armed and standing. Edmund wanted desperately to yell for Peter to ignore the request, but could not bring himself to do so. He had already disgraced himself with his oath; to do more would damn him further.

Peter, showing the nobility of the High King he was once more, lowered his sword and began walking towards Edmund and Caspian. Fatigue lined Peter's face, and Edmund prayed this duel ended soon, for he did not think his brother could handle much more. In fact, Edmund was so busy looking over Peter for any injuries he hadn't seen, that he was caught off guard when Caspian shouted, "Watch out!"

Looking up sharply past Peter, Edmund saw Miraz on his feet, lifting his sword to strike at Peter's head. Edmund stepped forward, reaching for his own sword, but Peter was already turning and bringing Rhindon up to block the strike. The next few moments were a blur, as Peter quickly disarmed Miraz and, bringing Rhindon down with full force, sliced deeply through the usurper's neck. With his face betraying no emotion, Peter ripped his sword away from where it had lodged in flesh, muscle, and bone, the force of which caused Miraz's body to collapse lifeless on the ground.

Silence fell. The Narnians were shocked at the treachery of Miraz's attack, while the Telmarines could hardly believe their king had lost. Edmund looked at Caspian: his face was pale, wide eyes not leaving his uncle's body. It was clear that he did not know how to react. The anger he held against Miraz for his father's murder, for the persecution of the Narnians, and for his own exile conflicted with the fact that his uncle, one of the few relatives he had known in his life, was dead. Edmund laid a comforting hand on Caspian's arm; there was nothing he could say to help him with that conflict.

Instead, the silence was broken when Glozelle stepped forward and addressed Peter. "Sir knight, what do you will?" He was not questioning the terms of the duel – those he already knew. However, in Telmarine culture, Caspian had explained, it was the winner's prerogative to deal with the body as he saw fit: whether to merely strip it of the costly armor, or take the corpse as a trophy. Edmund was unsurprised when Peter did not answer; instead he turned partway to look at Caspian. Only when Edmund squeezed his arm did Caspian look up and realize that Peter was handing the decision to him.

Caspian stepped forward, his gait faltering slightly as he drew nearer his uncle's lifeless body. Peter moved pass him to stand by Edmund and watch, his face giving no hint to aid Caspian in his choice. Though the Narnians considered this tradition barbaric, Peter apparently felt that it was not for him to decide how to deal with it.

No, Caspian had to choose what satisfaction he would take. For a long moment he just stared at Miraz's corpse. Then, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin, he answered Glozelle in a clear voice. "General, have the body returned to my aunt. It is only right that she be able to grieve him properly, despite his actions." His voice lowered to a pained whisper. "And he was my uncle."

As Caspian returned to their side to loud cheers from the Narnian army, Edmund kept his eyes on a stunned Glozelle. The Telmarine was clearly astonished that Caspian would allow an honorable burial for who would now be considered a traitor. From what Edmund understood of Telmarine history, this was almost unheard of. Glozelle caught his gaze and Edmund raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Do you see now what I told you is true?' Hesitating slightly, Glozelle nodded.

In fact, Edmund was fairly certain that Glozelle would have done more than acknowledge this, perhaps even declared his support for Caspian. Unfortunately, at that moment everything fell apart with a gargled cry. All heads turned to the Telmarine side of the field where one of the marshals – Lord Gregoire, if Edmund remembered correctly – fell to the ground, one of Susan's red-fletched arrows sticking out of his throat. Edmund's forehead creased in confusion; he knew Susan would not have shot without provocation, and Lord Gregoire did not seem to be even holding a weapon.

His confusion cleared, though, when Lord Sopespian began shouting. "Treachery! They've broken the terms of combat and murdered Lord Gregoire!" Dishonesty radiated from the man, but Edmund was too far away to stop and confront him; instead, Sopespian rushed to his horse and began galloping, almost certainly to rally his troops.

Edmund tore his eyes away to look at Glozelle, who was hurrying to his own horse. "General!" he called, not even sure what he could say. He had no proof that Sopespian was responsible, no proof that he himself had not been a complete hypocrite during their own duel, for deriding Telmarine interference. Glozelle turned and looked at him for a moment, and Edmund could not read his gaze, did not know if Glozelle could read his. But the Telmarine turned away, hastening back to his lines, and Edmund could only presume that Glozelle had made his own choice.

"Ed, come on!" shouted Peter as he dashed towards the front of the ruin where the duel had taken place. Edmund automatically ran to his side, vaguely noticing that Caspian had mounted his horse and was heading towards the How for his own preparations. Focusing his mind, Edmund surveyed the marshalling Telmarine army. Likely they would try to soften them with – yes, here come the war machines, throwing their stones against the How. Edmund blinked back the dust from his eyes. First the war machines. Then cavalry, and then infantry to overwhelm the remnants. Edmund knew the strength of the Narnian forces, and knew that they would not be able to stand against this attack, not forever.

Edmund looked over at Peter, who glanced back at him with grim eyes. If Lucy failed, if Aslan didn't come…this was the end. Edmund nodded at his brother. "After," he almost whispered, but Peter still heard him and gave him a questioning look. Edmund didn't explain further, only stared at Peter with a calm promise in his gaze until understanding dawned on his older brother's face. Edmund had vowed that they would speak together after the battle was over, that they would clear whatever shadows still remained between them. And they would do so, no matter what the outcome may be: even if they were in Aslan's Country, Edmund would keep his promise.

Peter nodded back, and then turned his attention to the field as the Telmarine cavalry advanced, and the faint echoes of a war-horn sounded under their feet. The countdown to their fate had begun.