Edmund tightened his fingers in the dark horse's mane, trying to keep from falling off the cantering animal. Nickering softly, it slowed, and he could hear as if from a great ways away the sound of running water. Lifting his head with a low moan, he opened his eyes. In his feverish haze, he could hardly discern details, but it looked to be the Great River. He was somewhere near Beruna, then. Gingerly, because of the pain from the still-healing lashes across his shoulders, he patted the stallion's neck.
They had been riding for five days, if he had been counting accurately. He did not think he was, though. It was dark again, so he was forced to trust the mount the woman had given him in Telmar to take him home. He prayed disjointedly, unable to think straight from sickness, that he was found by Narnians instead of Telmarines.
"Well done, boy," he whispered hoarsely, struggling to keep from blacking out by focusing on the water the stallion was carefully stepping through. Nickering again, the horse gently bobbed its head before clattering the rest of the way across and up the grassy bank. With an energetic snort, the stallion moved into a canter and headed into the forest. Edmund didn't know that the horse had just crossed a tributary of the Great River; they were only five miles from Cair Paravel.
~|:O:|~
He became more conscience when he heard his mount's hooves on cobblestone and felt the change of turf from grass to streets. He looked up in time to see two guards, their spears and bare swords shining dimly in the firelight of the torches on the citadel walls. He eyed them with great unease, which passed to the horse so that it began sidestepping nervously as he slowed it to a halt. In the past months Edmund had grown to associate weaponry of any kind with immense pain; now was no different.
Spurring the horse onward, it galloped past the guards, who could only stare at the figure of their missing king in disbelief. The two Centaurs, a Faun, and a Dwarf, shared confused, surprised glances. That had been the face of their king, but something was not well with him. He had looked . . . afraid of them. Wondering when they might hear news from the palace, they waited at their posts, gazing out into the night.
~|:O:|~
"I do not care what Isshiah says! We will not stop looking for King Edmund even if it means we must burn down every Telmarine village in your kingdom!" Peter shouted angrily, staring at the messenger sent from King Isshiah's courts. He was outraged. Five, almost six, months had gone by since his brother was assailed during his daily ride in the Western Woods by a band of men looking more Telmarine in appearance than outlaws or brigands. Peter hardly slept, and could barely eat, with his brother missing.
Susan, who sat on his left, was pale from lack of sleep herself, and looked thunderously beautiful. A vengeful goddess, she knew many bards and minstrels would sing long after this day had fallen into history. Lucy was still on her throne, her hands just visibly trembling on her marble armrests. She practiced daily on the training grounds, and Peter hated to see her spirit fading from fear for her brother's life. If they did not have terms from the Telmarine king soon, the country would be obliterated in the search for their royal brother. They would find him, even if it meant overturning the world in their wake.
"But you must see that going to war with Telmar is wrong; that trade with your neighboring country would be much more . . . beneficial for all of Narnia? Think of the profits, of the finery; of the fabrics from far-off islands and the jewels for your necklaces and bracelets, great Queens!" the envoy coaxed, turning to the women because he believed them weaker targets.
"Silence, fool! We shall not do business with a land that trades the bodies of men and women for furs and treasure! Or have you forgotten that Narnia is rich in mining and pelts both? The finest fabrics are ours to do with as we wish; islands deep in the Eastern Ocean are under our domain! One more word of smooth lies and trickery from your tongue and I shall cut it out!" Susan stood, her hand slowly reaching for the concealed dagger in her skirts. Lucy, also, had begun fingering her dagger at her sister's words.
"I understand that you grieve; it is well to grieve, so say the poets," the envoy declared with a respectful bow, though he somehow appeared patronizing to the three Narnian monarchs.
"We are grieving, a fact you do well to keep in mind," Susan answered threateningly, her voice iron-hard and leeched of all emotion or feeling. "Remember that I may smite the head you bear off your very shoulders; I daresay it will be welcome relief to your body." She murmured the words carefully, head tilted to one side as she had often seen Edmund do in Court with these ruffians. A pleased smile came to her red lips when she noticed that her brother's tactic worked wonders on the envoy's countenance. He seemed less confidant in his words and more fearing for his life.
"Truly not, great Highness; I should like to keep my head a short while longer, I pray; it would be most inconvenient to my king were I to lose it," the man replied hurriedly.
"Would your king even lament long your departure? I swear all his subjects are more loyal to him than he is to all of you," Peter observed critically. "Sheep for the slaughter, I have seen in my time." Around the great throne room, heads nodded in accord with their king's words.
"Fodder for the flame are those poor, poor peasants. If I liked them, and they in turn showed some little affection for us, I would then be inclined to pity their mean estate. As it is, I care little what becomes of them," Lucy muttered under her breath in agreement, showing uncharacteristic lack of sympathy for suffering. Gradually, as her siblings conversed more with the envoy, Lucy lowered her chin onto her hand.
"I do wish Eddie were here; he is much better dealing with these scoundrels than we are," Susan admitted in a hushed tone, looking over to her brother and sister as the Telmarine began unrolling another scroll with yet another plan for terms with Telmar and King Isshiah.
~|:O:|~
He felt as if he were on fire; the world blurred before him, and he stumbled down the hall as two Centaur guards closed the great entry doors of the palace behind him. Tripping over the fine carpets under his boots, he reached out and found support from a large white marble column; while he grasped it, he struggled to regain his balance. He longed to sleep, but something told him it was imperative he speak to someone here before he did. Inhaling raggedly, Edmund pushed himself away from the column and stumbled toward two great wooden doors, on the other side of which loud voices could be heard.
Unsteadily he put all his strength into opening them. Gasping briefly at the pain that flashed up his arms and into his shoulders and down his back, he applied more force to the doors, sensing distractedly that he'd reopened several wounds. When the doors finally gave way, he practically fell headlong into the vaulted room. Almost running to keep his balance, he quickly wheeled back from a Faun with a sword who was staring at him. A low sound of pain and unease escaped him as he fled further into the room to get away from the weapons.
And then, someone shouted, and he stilled.
~|:O:|~
Peter stood, ready to address the envoy again, when he notice a commotion near the doors. A frown slowly coming to his face, he tried to make out what was going on, but it only looked as if someone was discreetly coming in– well, discreetly from this distance. Focusing his attentions back on the Telmarine, he continued his sentence.
"We do not need aid from Telmar against the Giants of the Northlands. We do not need Telmarine flotillas to guard our ships as they sail from port here to Galma, Calormen, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, or to the Lone Islands. We wish you return to us our royal brother, King Edmund. That is all. If you can at least procure his body, we might be persuaded to consider treaty terms. Until then, leave us!" His voice rose thunderous, and the expressions of his sisters' faces accentuated his words. Hastily, the man bowed and almost dashed out a side door to be escorted to the quarters he'd been given.
Slowly, with a tired sigh, Peter passed a hand over his face and nearly collapsed onto his throne. Glancing at the Court, he bolted upright, coming to his feet faster than he had in months. He thought he'd seen Edmund's face in amongst the Narnians'. Perhaps he was going mad. Less than a fortnight ago he had nearly convinced himself that he'd seen Edmund on the beach. Yesterday morn he'd imagined that his brother had come to see him, but that had been another dream too. Now here was another apparition created by his mind of his missing brother's form.
"Edmund! Eddie, oh, Ed!" The scream from his sister tore through him, electrifying him down to his very fingertips. He looked over at Lucy, and her eyes glowed with excitement and relief. Instantly, Peter knew he was not alone in seeing Edmund, and he felt a sense of calm. But that feeling was quickly replaced with urgency, and before his sisters could move toward their brother, Peter leapt down the steps and practically ran to him– rather unkingly, but Peter was beyond such things now. His brother was home at last.
"Edmund, we had begun to suppose that you were dead," he declared, lifting a hand toward his brother in relief. But before he could walk a step closer, the dark haired young man jerked backward with a cry of fear that riveted Peter to the place he stood. And that was when he truly saw Edmund. He paled under his tan and his blue eyes glassed over with horror and shock.
The hands Edmund held up as he unsteadily walked backwards were streaked with something darker and thicker than dust or dirt. As the younger king stared at Peter warily, his long hair absolutely disheveled and matted with something that was not only tangles from lack of upkeep, nausea welled in Peter's stomach at all the blood. There was just so much, and it had come from Edmund. Then he felt unbridled rage. Who had done this to his brother, a king of Narnia? The person responsible would pay dearly with their life.
"Who has done this to you?" Peter whispered, finding that his voice failed him and threatened to break from anguish.
"I do not know what you want, I swear to Aslan I don't!" Edmund cried out in an almost crazed tone, his shoulders shaking from exhaustion and fever as his countenance crumbled. Peter instantly collected his scattered thoughts as he saw Lucy and Susan hurry towards them out of the corner of his eye. He held his arms out before his body and tried to approach his brother like he'd done only yesterday with his stallion when the horse had spooked.
"Please, Edmund, you're ill, let me help you," he begged softly, noticing Oreius coming up behind the younger king in silence, nodding at Peter when the High King realized what the Centaur general was going to do.
"Lies! Deceit; how dare you promise me something close to relief! I do not believe such falsehoods any longer!" Edmund took another wildly unsteady pace back, brown eyes wide; filled with distrust and hate.
"Edmund, it is your brother; I am Peter. I would never hurt you," Peter whispered, feeling that, with every step and word Edmund took or spoke, his heart was breaking further. What sort of person could do something like this to another? As Peter tried to come closer, Oreius caught Edmund in his arms, holding him carefully but securely. Edmund fought it, shouting something, but in his weakened state he did not offer resistance against the Centaur long.
Lucy and Susan hurried over when Peter finally beckoned them to come closer. Lucy, ignoring Edmund's words strung together in meaningless ramblings, brought her hand to her brother's forehead, and then lightly encircled his wrist with her fingers, checking his pulse. When fresh blood came back on her palm after she took her hand away, she looked to Peter.
"He is not well, brother. We must act quickly," she turned to Oreius, "General, please take him to his chambers, and see that he's put in clean clothes while I fetch some things from the infirmary. I must use my cordial, Peter, or we shall not have a Just King for much longer," she informed her oldest brother while leveling an unyielding and even gaze on him. They would use the cordial, for this was a dire circumstance.
"Do you think I would gamble with our brother's life? Do whatever you must!" Peter replied readily, looking back at Edmund, who was now slumped in a deliriously fevered state in the Centaur's arms. Susan and Lucy gathered their skirts and followed behind Oreius, several Narnians in tow to assist their queens.
A/N:
Hello everyone, and I deeply apologize for not having updated in so long! But, life has been busy, and I have been feeling rather lazy on the writing end of things. . . I have no idea why; beleive you me, it's bothering me to no end, but I think it means that I need to take a step back and find the reason I began writing in the first place. . . again.
For those of you who are new to this: I took a long break during the second installment of the Star Cycle (and I'm still sorta on that hiatus *weak lol*). Don't worry, I'll still update on this story! Though, much slower. Also, I've noticed some inconsistencies with this story that I want to rewrite! So I think I'll take a few days or so and go back through, edit these past chapters, and then eventually resume my writing of the story.
So, on to the chapter after that important message to all you readers: in the coming chapter will be the close of this flashback of Edmund's past. Then it's on to the present and all that that entails! ;) I truly hope that I'm not boring everyone and dragging stuff out for no reason (but I'm a detailed person and like to have everything written out in black and white when I write it)!
Thanks for all your support, Favorites, Follows, and Reviews! They mean a lot to me when I wonder what's the point of writing. I hope everyone knows that I just love ya'll for taking time to read my story and comment or what-not on it! :) And special thanks to Eosneve (formerly Fiordineve) for being Number 1 on the support squad for this story!
I hope everyone has had a good week thus far, and that such blessing (or luck, whichever you prefer) continues until the end of the week.
Happy reading,
WH