Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Squared Up

16 Sunbend 1014

Oreius observed the camp in silence. The rain did not bother him as he stood out on the bluff overlooking the sleeping camp. Only a few of the watch stirred as the cooks struggled against the weather to prepare a hearty breakfast. He turned his head slightly at the sounding of approaching hooves and met Ardon's inquiring gaze. "We will take a day of rest, Captain."

His friend smiled and offered a slight bow. "I will see to it. And, Oreius, I believe most of the camp will be grateful for such a reprieve. Perhaps letters will come today as well."

He could only hope. However, he did not say anything on that, choosing instead to offer a curt nod before he turned back to his vigil. His thoughts did not stray to home and what mischief his minx of a wife had undoubtedly found for her own entertainment. They stayed much closer to camp. His eyes fell once more on the dark red tent in the center of camp. His colt was brooding. It was time to knock that out of him.

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

Peter yelped as he jerked awake to find himself airborne for a split second before he collapsed heavily to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, his hand went to his side only to remember that Rhindon was yet slung over the stand. His burning gaze sought out the intruder and wondered what he had done to incapacitate his Tigers. He was immediately confronted with a large dark shape. Rain droplets yet clung to him, giving him a wilder look than usual, and a fierce light stirred within those dark eyes. "Take your sword, Wolfsbane. Now, come."

Peter's hands were already tightening his sword belt before he had enough presence of mind to ask, "Oreius? What is going on?"

The Centaur never even turned back to look at him as he answered, "What has happened is you have grown slack in your training, Wolfsbane. I shall remedy this."

Oh no. Peter didn't dare say anything in return, knowing he would be unable to keep his despair from showing. Whenever Oreius decided one of his students was slacking, he sought to remedy the situation with unyielding and at times vicious thoroughness. Peter could still remember the way his muscles had screamed for a fortnight after the last time Oreius had found a flaw in his training he viciously stomped out. He winced at the memory. Still, he followed the Centaur.

He was a little surprised the rain even dared to land on Oreius considering the Centaur strode forward as though he weren't even aware of the dismal weather. Peter ran a hand over his face, wiping away the rain that swiftly turning from steady drizzle to a pelting menace. It was so dark and overcast he wasn't even sure if it was truly morn yet. Eying the cooking fires, he decided it was probably closer to dawn than anything else. Not that one could tell with the sky blanketed in dark grey clouds.

He heard the rasp of a blade being unsheathed. Instinct and training had him wrenching Rhindon free of the scabbard before he even fully registered that Oreius had wheeled about and was bearing down on him with both swords. His arms shook beneath the impact. Peter grit his teeth and then he let out a hoarse, wordless war cry. Hammering at the Centaur's guard, Peter sought any opening available.

In moments, his blood surging with the urge to fight, he could see only the faces of his enemies. Those horrid, forsaken, Fell Giants. He slashed at their legs only for them to leap out of the way. On he pursued them, these ugly demons of his failures. Rhindon danced in the rain, cutting through it yet never striking the ones he truly sought to wound. A powerful blow nearly knocked Rhindon free of his rain-slickened grasp then Peter found himself airborne. He landed hard on his back, all the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

Blinking against the pelting rain, he gasped for breath and then rolled to the side, bringing Rhindon with him. He sensed the next attack coming and looked into the face of that fell Giant who had dragged Thal- who had dragged a Nymph off. His face split into a taunting grin full of pointed teeth as he leered. Peter sucked in a deep breath and then he lunged, a war cry tearing free from his throat. He aimed Rhindon at the Giant's gut. The Giant sidestepped, his hand fastened on Peter's arm, wrenching Rhindon free of his grasp, and then, with a very light openhanded smack, drove Peter into the muddy ground.

Peter lay there, gasping as tears threatened, his face half-buried in the mud. His fingers tightened into fists and he tore at the sparse grass. He felt the ground shake but only a little, not as with a Giant's footsteps but only the heavy hooves of a Centaur. Rolling onto his back, Peter met the solemn gaze of his teacher and General. "Oreius," the word came out in a croak. Peter licked his chapped lips then tried again. "Oreius."

The Centaur bent toward him suddenly and extended his hand. "On your feet, Wolfsbane."

Accepting the hand, Peter let his General yank him to his feet. His body cried out at the movement and he suddenly realized sweat now joined the rain in soaking his hair and clothes, his limbs trembled with the familiar exhaustion of battle, and he felt as weak as a newborn kitten. He raised a shaking hand to his face, drew back his fingers covered with mud, and then cast a wary glance around them.

To his surprise, there were no guards and no soldiers about to have witnessed his rather sound defeat at the hands of the General. Peter swiped the mud off his cheek with his sodden sleeve and blinked through rain droplets at the impassive Centaur. Oreius turned and walked away.

A spark of burning irritation bloomed in Peter's heart. His breathing still harsh seemed to come in hissing bursts now as his provoked temper burned hotter and hotter. "Oreius."

The Centaur didn't stop nor did he turn his head or give any other indication that he heard him. Peter pressed his lips together in a thin line, fighting back the hot words that wished to break free. He couldn't berate the General where all could hear. He stomped after the Centaur, one hand grasping at his empty sheath, only now reminding him that Oreius still had Rhindon. Peter fumed silently as he followed the General into a dead-end gully. "General Oreius, it would seem you have forgotten to return my sword."

He held out his hand expectantly as the Centaur slowly turned to face him, but Rhindon was not returned. Instead, his General stated simply, "I did not forget." He turned back and drove Rhindon point first into the soggy ground in front of a scraggly tree. "You may have your sword back, Wolfsbane, when you have earned it."

"What!" Peter took a step forward, forgetting in that moment that though he had grown broad chested and now stood taller than Kat he was still no physical match for a grown Centaur, and clench his fists together. "What reason have you to dictate such terms to me?"

"You are not in the correct frame of mind to be carrying a weapon. Were we in Cair Paravel I would have placed you on the limited duty roster." Oreius gave him a very stern look. "When you have earned back the right to wield a weapon, then I shall return Rhindon to your hand."

Peter's fingers found his dagger and then he released it. He took a deep breath, but it did naught to cool his temper. He clenched his teeth and hissed, "It may amuse you, General Oreius, to handicap a soldier during a war campaign but I assure I am not amused. You will return my sword at once, sir."

"Why should I?"

"Because I have need of it when we engage the Giants today."

Oreius didn't even blink as he replied simply, "I have declared today a day of rest. We will not go to war this day if the Giants do not bring the battle to our camp and the scouts report that they keep a healthy distance."

Peter could hardly believe his ears. He stared dumbfounded at the Centaur and then exclaimed, "Do you wish this campaign to continue into winter? Is that why you resort to sabotage?" His eyes narrowed and the words, now unlocked, spilled forth without regard for caution or diplomacy as he seethed, "It wouldn't bother you one whit if we remained trapped here in the north until next summer, would it? Have you not got your fill of slaying Giants yet, General? Or does your lack of a proper homelife urge you to stay away as long as possible? I never thought it of you but I'm beginning to see now. Do you not care for the soldiers we have lost? I know I am to blame for choosing to pursue these accursed Giants into their own lands but I never expected to lose so much ground to them, so many soldiers. Soldiers whose loved ones will never see them again. I am responsible for those deaths and for the families torn apart because these soldiers obeyed my command." He pressed his lips together, breaking off the tide of words, but then he looked over the Centaur who remained an impassive shadowy part of the scene before and contempt entered his voice as he added, "You don't have to worry about your family. I do. You don't have to worry about your wife. I do. You may not miss home. I do. You may not need to be with your family. I do."

It was amazing how swiftly someone as big as Oreius could move. In truth, Peter didn't even see it happen. All he knew was a moment later, he was lying flat on his back in the mud and Oreius was pinning him down with one heavy hoof. The Centaur's angular features looked a little sharper now despite the rain. Yet nothing changed in his impassive tone as he stated, "You are a very foolish colt, Peter Pevensie."

Peter couldn't seem to draw enough breath to protest but it did not seem to matter. Oreius continued sternly, "You are not responsible for the lives lost on this campaign. You are not responsible for the need to retreat. It is a bitter thing to do yet I thought I had taught you retreats do occur in battle and, at times, are necessary to prevent utter defeat. I also thought I had taught you to take responsibility only for the things you can change. There was a need to address the threat of the Northern Giants. Our encounter with them last year more than confirmed this need. Every soldier who goes into battle knows the potential price for his service. You are not responsible for the lives lost. That blame lies solely at the feet of the Giants who slew them. Did I not teach you and your brother this lesson?" The Centaur moved his hoof, freeing Peter, and walked back toward Rhindon as he added darkly, "I thought I also taught you to choose your words carefully."

Compelled to keep him in sight, Peter shoved up from the muddy ground and slowly approached the Centaur. He had nearly reached him when Oreius spun to face him and the first hint of anger began to glitter in those dark eyes. "It would seem though I have failed in this lesson and it becomes necessary to correct your exhibited and most erroneous assumptions. You are not the only one in this campaign who is missing home or family or spouse. You are certainly not the only one who cares for the lives lost and those families who have suffered the loss of loved ones. Every officer cares. Every soldier cares. Every healer cares. I have no wish for this campaign to last one moment longer than it must for us to achieve our goal of securing Narnia's safety from the threat of the Northern Giants. Even an army on campaign must rest. I seek now to ensure there is no self-sabotage at work among our ranks."

The Centaur paused for a moment but Peter could think of nothing to say as shame slowly began to creep over him, pushing away the anger that lit his veins. Oreius shook his head and then an angry light filled his eyes and a tightness threaded through his voice as he continued, "You seem to think I have a very small family, Wolfsbane. My family does not include my wife alone. It also includes the four colts and fillies given into my care by Aslan. I worry over them daily. Yes, I do miss the peace of my home. A long campaign wears at one, no matter who you are. I need to be with my family because that is the best way for me to know to my satisfaction that they are safe." His expression darkened considerably as thunder rumbled through the grey clouds above. "I worry about my wife. I miss her greatly but I am worried about her. The restrictions on the letters and Alambiel's own nature would keep her from sending me word if anything happened. If she lost another foal and nearly died of that one too, I would not know it until I return to Cair Paravel. In some of her letters, I suspect she is troubled by something but she will not tell me and I cannot ask more plainly as I would if we were together. It is never easy, Peter, to leave someone you love behind or to be separated from them for a significant amount of time. It will never be easy but we do it because it is our duty. Do you truly believe I prefer being away from my wife? I enjoy being in her company. Spending these last five months separated from her have not been easy. No more than it has been for you to be separated from Thalia or Ardon to be separated from Alithia."

Shame made his cheeks burn beneath the mud as he listened. He had forgotten how much Kat and Oreius had been through… He had forgotten…too much. Peter looked away then he gave himself a little shake and forced himself to face Oreius once more. "How do you bear it?"

The dark look faded slightly as Oreius sighed, flicking his tail. "With the knowledge that Alambiel expects me to do what must be done for as long as is required to carry out this duty. I do what must be done so that I may return to my wife knowing I have earned the right to do so and I may face her without shame."

Peter ran a hand over his face. Nodding to himself, he realized he knew what had to be done. "Then we can't return home until we've finished this business. And, we can't finish anything if we are continually forced to retreat." He looked up at Oreius, meeting the Centaur's dark eyes, as he stated firmly, "I am not going to stop until I've forced Borak's back to the gates of Harfang and he is willing to sign a treaty." He hesitated then added, "You didn't deserve the brunt of my anger, Oreius, and I apologize for my foolishly spoken words. I should not have accused you. Although we may not go to war today, would you be amenable to forming a new plan for this campaign? I'm sure we all want to be home in time for Christmas."

Oreius didn't respond at first. Instead, he freed Rhindon and then extended the sword hilt first to Peter. "It seems a wise course of action, Your Majesty. Let us break our fast and then we may begin."

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

A/N: Please Read and Review!