"Come on, we'll make it somehow."
Peter himself was drenched in sweat and ready to collapse, but he goaded the others to keep on going—partly so they can find Beruna and partly to get his own spirits up. When he was once High King Peter (I still am, I still am, he thinks) he would speak to his troops like this, encouraging them, marching beside them. Keeping a smile on his face even as the groaning of his limbs intensified, even as old wounds and new ached, as bones ground together with fatigue. He was High King Peter, and he had to press on.
And he'd found that giving his subordinates strength gave him some too.
As he came over a bend he gasped.
"Oh, hurray!"
"What is it—oh, Peter!" Susan exclaimed.
The whole view laid before them, the gleaming silver Rush twisting and turning below them. Open country stretched beyond them, what once was the Ford of Beruna now connected with a bridge which (in Lucy's opinion) lessened the glory of the Ford.
"Beruna... We fought the Battle of Beruna there!" Peter said, thrusting his hand towards a small town in the distance. "By Jove, it's been so long!"
A rush of energy came through Peter, a warmth he couldn't describe. It was as if he was seeing all his former battles, one on top of the other, play in front of him simultaneously there on Beruna. It'd been years—centuries?—ever since they happened, but now it became tangible, and it gave him the morale he needed.
"Edmund would love to see this," Lucy said. "Oh, Ed!"
It threw a lonely shade on the party.
"We'll find him, Your Majesty," Gimli said. "And Legolas."
"Now we know we're close," Peter said. "we can double up our time and maybe we'll reach there in time and have Caspian find Ed and Legolas."
They went on a more upbeat pace now, Peter and Susan narrating their great battles (mostly Peter), and soon most of them felt lighter and less burdened by their armor. Even Trumpkin was beginning to become interested. Though there were still steep cliffs on either side of them, the gorge was now only a mere valley, and soon they were in fairly thick woods again.
whizz
Gimli flinched and whirled around to see what it was. The children felt an awful chill rush through them, wondering what was it about the sound that made them loathe it.
"Get down!" Gimli shouted, almost in unison with Trumpkin, knocking Lucy and Susan to the ground.
whizz
"Peter!" Susan shouted.
Peter was looking up at the foliage when he stopped short in front of a tree trunk, a cruel arrow buried deep into it. He shuddered. Another came rasping over his shoulder and he grabbed Susan's arm. "Come on, let's go, let's go!" he shouted, throwing himself to the ground as more arrows flew past. "Crawl!"
They shimmied, wriggled and creeped amongst the bracken nd moss under them. The horrible buzzing of the arrows urged them on along with Peter's desperate calls.
"Faster, we have to go faster!" Peter kept on dragging himself along, the rush of adrenaline making him remember those times when he did not succeed—when he failed and had to call his army back. He could only count them on one hand, the times he'd had to retreat, but the number of troops—friends, brothers, allies—he'd lost could never be numbered. I will not let any of us die, he thought, heart pounding in his chest. I cannot let them go.
An arrow sailed past Gimli, almost clipping off part of his ear. "Peter!"
It tore through Peter's shoulder.
Hazy with adrenaline, Peter couldn't think, much less feel the pain. He hadn't even let up calling to the others, goading them to get on. Up up and up they went, over ground already gone over, until they stopped, unable to move, even to save their lives. Panting, they pricked up their ears for any sign that they were still being pursued.
"That's all right, then," Trumpkin. "Must be some sentries. But that means that Miraz has an outpost there!"
"Peter!" Lucy cried out.
Now that everything was all right and the adrenaline was beginning to lose its numbing effect, Peter winced and clutched his shoulder and the broken shaft of the arrow, blood pulsing dark red with each beat of his heart. He bit back his gasps, but his pale face and wide eyes said all.
Trumpkin set his jaw. "We have to get to Caspian as soon as possible."
Wrapping an arm around Lucy, Gimli rushed through all the Elvish methods of healing, but he doubted they would work here in another world, with its own kind of magic...
"Now, now, lassies, keep a chin up! If we are near the Aslan's How, then there is a great chance that we will get help for Peter."
Susan turned her eyes away from Peter's wound and looked at Gimli. "We have to clean it first."
"In our world, in Middle Earth, there is a way to heal such wounds... but I have seen only Elves do so. As for their spells, well..."
"What spell?" Trumpkin asked. "It works?"
Realizing what he'd just done, Gimli shook his head. "In our world, yes, but I am not sure..."
"We should try it," Lucy said, wiping the few tears on her face.
"Yes, yes," Susan said. "But not here, or they might find us."
They carried on with a newfound haste, Susan supporting Peter as much as she can.
"I told you many many times before that Caspian is the prince of this castle," Armix sighed, looking out at the blue sky. It reminded him of the ocean, which had a deeper blue than it, which almost overwhelmed his sight when he stood by the shore. It sucked, having to pretend to be a Telmarine in order to get a job. He wasn't supposed to be associated with these—these invaders.
But if that was what he was commissioned to do, then...
"You said you let Caspian escape?" Pippin said. "Why?"
"He has been kind to me, unlike Miraz. And so has his mentor, who has escaped along with him. I can only hope that they are all safe, and possibly with the Narnians. I would give anything to get things back to normal."
"What's your normal, anyway?" Merry asked.
"Well, when I was younger, I loved to look out at the sea. I was small, so I could sneak past the sentries to the forest and Cair Paravel, and—the sea! It was beautiful, glinting before me... what I would do to smell its salty scent again and feel the cool water on my skin. If I could, I would bring you there."
"That would be nice," Pippin said. "Ah, Armix, where are you going?"
"I am to guard the Professor. He is also kind to me, although I cannot do anything to help him..."
"Nothing?"
"Yes. If I so much as tried to open his cell door, I would die."
"But he's your friend—as is Caspian."
Armix stopped in his tracks, and Pippin did too, Merry walking right into his back with an 'oof.'
"They are."
Then he continued on without nary a look at the two. Pippin turned to Merry.
"Are you all right?"
"He said the sea, right?"
"Yes?"
"Do you remember what we saw that time, when we teleported?" Merry was beginning to become more enthusiastic. "It was—"
"A beach! Do you think if we—?"
"The others might be here too!"
They slapped hands and took gasps of relief. They might not be alone, after all. Pippin gulped.
"But how do we find them?"
Merry shrugged. "I thought you'd tell me that."
They looked out at where Armix had disappeared. "Wait! Armix!"
TBC...