CHAPTER 38
Where the Western Woods meet the Mountains.
Faelar.
Faelar took his position by Arianna's side.
He did not reach out to her, she needed no comfort. Those in Corradyn's castle would not miss the army that amassed below them.
He glanced at his queen. The sun sunk into her golden skin, shining upon the silver of her armour. She looked like vengeance personified as the light surrounded her. He almost froze as she turned her dark eyes to him, they were filled with fierce determination.
It was written in her eyes.
She would win the war.
"We do not march on the city for the lusting of power! We will protect ourselves from this evil that wishes to burn the land!" Peter's voice was filled with passion, with a fire that did not go unheard as he addressed the troops he stood before; dryad, minotaur, dwarf, animal and fae – the vanguard. Their expressions were one of reverence as he spoke. They had faith in him; their High King. Their cheers erupted like a volcano, just as deafening.
"I see fear in your eyes," he yelled, his scream melting over those before her. "Do not give in to that fear! Fight with me! Today we fight for Narnia! And for Aslan!"
They began thumping their armour with their swords, the sound rising to the sky above them.
"Do not fear death, for death comes to us all!" he bellowed. "On this day let us meet death with the blood of our enemies on our blades! Who will stand with me? Who will stand for the Narnia!"
The warriors before her began to scream louder. Their screams turned into chants.
He rose in the saddle, standing so all could see her as she swept her penetrating gaze over her. "Archers!" Peter's voice rang crystal clear, carrying over the heads of all as he turned to face them atop the beautiful unicorn.
"Take down the wall that bars you to the city! Nothing shall bar us, no mere wall!"
Faelar knew he did not think of the guards who were stationed on the wall, merely doing what they had been ordered. He could not afford to think of them.
…
Myria.
Myria, Corradyn's most trusted scout, atop the tower watched with horrified eyes as the marble gate fell. Her hand tightened on the bow she always carried. Dust billowed upwards in thick clouds, black as the heart of the sorcerer who stood waiting with his own army. She trembled slightly as she glimpsed the witch's army through the clouds.
But not just the witch's army, for behind them road warriors clothed in crimson and gold.
The Narnians.
A figure in armour of silver.
Myria's heart thudded as images darted through her mind.
In a small chamber lined with tapestries from a beautiful city that she did not know.
Emerald eyes laughing in a golden-brown face.
She clutches her head.
The witch.
She was a witch who enchanted people.
Corradyn, her wide and powerful master had told her so. And she knew he would not lie to her.
Why had she smiled at her?
Another memory, of Jenari, kissing her. Holding her tenderly.
His eyes looked at her with such unwavering devotion.
Another memory, more recent, washing her hands of his blood. His blood. She had killed him. He had loved her, and she had killed him. She had loved him.
Myria clutched her head and wailed, sinking to her knees.
What had she done?
…
Corradyn.
Corradyn stood before his assembled army, clad in his black armour.
They gazed up at him with a mixture of adoration, fear and desire. As he positioned himself before them the light hit the intricate golden coronet he wore – the coronet of the King. The rightful King of Narnia. It was where he belonged, having the warriors on their knees before him. He was there long before the Pevensies, the pitiful human children. He was there long before the White Witch and her enchanting protégé. And he would be there long after they all fell. For he would rebirth Narnia in a dawn of fire.
He stood atop the black marble steps that lead into the palace, the towering pillars either side of him. He would crush Arianna's army like insects beneath his feet; she was fool to think she could take him on her own.
The din outside the palace rose in intensity. The northerners were gaining ground. They would be on the castle in mere moments.
But his own army had the upper hand, the higher ground. They would crush the intruders
He had known the Narnians to be foolish, but he had thought better of Arianna.
"My people," he said simply, his voice carrying easily over the sounds of the battle outside the walls. "We will not let these usurpers take what is ours!"
A cheer met his words, spears and shields were banged against the marble stones of the courtyard. Snarls and growls erupted as the animals sensed the oncoming battle, their senses tingling, teeth bared in anticipation. Thousands of pairs of crimson eyes – his eyes – looked up at him.
Yet they could do nothing but wait.
They were not humans, he would not delude herself into thinking they would tire before they reached the palace.
"We will crush them! We will crush their precious hope!"
The doors of the courtyard shattered, splintering to pieces as they were blasted off their hinges. The pieces of wood were like knives as some as large as swords impaled bodies, blood splattering the ground in a macabre artwork.
They did not give the smoke a chance to clear as Corradyn gave the order.
"Fire at will!"
The arrows rained down from the walls. They soared through the air, whistling shrilly. There was no sound save for the beating of her heart. He could sense them there, waiting beyond the clear doorway. He could feel the way the air shifted around them.
Silence.
The blood pounded in his ears as he tensed.
Thud.
The ground shook. His muscles tensed, waiting for the attack. As one, his army seemed to crouch low, the low rumble of their growls filling the eerie quiet.
Thud.
They were footsteps. Something immense.
"Archers ready!" he yelled as he braced himself. The air was moving, pushed outwards by a creature far larger than he had ever encountered before. The air seemed to shy away from the beast, it was deadly.
Thud.
A giant.
A giant fought for the Narnians.
How?
"Fire!" As he yelled they burst through the dust, the giant swinging it club as if it were a toy. She stood in the middle, in her armour of white and silver, watching Corradyn. Her daggers were alive in her hands. Steel armour, the armour of the Narnians, deflected the arrows easily.
"Protect your Master!" someone by his side roared as the armies met with a clash.
…
Lucy.
Lucy's sword flew through the air, her feet moving without her thinking – immensely glad of Edmund's training. She couldn't dwell on the minor details, the way the light caught the drops of blood on the blade. The thick crimson liquid seemed so much brighter.
Focus, she told herself sternly.
She whimpered as another faun fell by her side, his bright blood staining the crest of Narnia.
She saw Arianna's work, in the ice that blossomed across the bodies of those fallen but could not see the enchantress. Screams pierced her ears. She watched them fall about her like flies. Rage and fear were a constant presence in her heart as she danced backwards on her feet, twirling gracefully. Her sword met little resistance as it cut through flesh and sinew like a knife through butter, the dryad falling to the ground with blank crimson eyes.
"Isn't this exciting!" She doubted her sister's sanity for a moment as the queen hacked through another. Her sky-blue eyes twinkled with adrenaline and fear. Susan hadn't looked so alive in years.
They had moved through the gates, following the vanguard who had burst through. With a cry she leaped backwards, colliding with the back of another, as she dodged the onslaught of a war hammer. She lost sight of her sister as she cut the man's legs from under him, and watched with horrified eyes as Faelar's axe took off his head.
But then he was spinning her out of the way of another blade, his hand warm in hers.
…
Arianna.
Arianna's eyes swept the makeshift battlefield, the blood seeped into the marble from the bodies that were strewn everywhere, staining it red. Corradyn had left, with an almost curious glance when the Narnians had revealed themselves.
The armies were thinning out, there was more room for one on one combat – it was no longer just a mindless killing spree, there was room to manoeuvre and to plan. They fought everywhere, using the landscape to their benefit. Pillars were dancing around, before comrades struck at the preoccupied and unsuspecting victims. Death surrounded her.
"Arianna!"
She looked up at the cry, seeing the griffin circling where Faelar pointed.
Edmund was inside.
She would not waste her time on perfection; her cuts were crude but effective. Again and again she struck, her movements a blur, her daggers barely visible. The wolf fell to the ground, too wounded to regenerate, blood seeping from the thousand cuts as it whimpered pitifully – a traitor.
She needed to get to Edmund.
She could not let him face the sorcerer.
Not alone.
She could not let him die.
With a snarl she leaped across another who fell by her daggers of ice.
…
Corradyn.
Corradyn sat on his black throne, waiting for her to appear. "Myria, my dearest," he said softly to the dryad by his side. "Fetch me a drink."
But when the door opened, it was not Arianna of Charn. It was him; the Just King. Another thorn in his side. "Have you come to kill me little king?"
He watched as the boy's dark eyes swept the room – searching for something.
"Ah, your lover is not yet arrived. Would you like a refreshment while we wait perhaps?"
One step…two…
The boy edged closer; his dark eyes unfathomable. He did not wear the same golden armour that his brother, the High King, wore. Instead it was a dark, sleet grey, with a cloak like shadows settled on his shoulders.
Ah…the Dark King.
He would have been a great ally had Jadis not gotten to him first and corrupted his young mind. For after turning against Narnia once, he would never do so again.
"Your dear Lily is dead," the boy-king's voice was soft.
Lily?
"Ah…Lilyn," Corradyn gave him a rueful smile. Let him think that he's distracting me, for we both know he won't strike. Not before his lover gets here. However, Lilyn's loss was regretful. She had been so beautiful. She would be hard to replace. "Tell me, was your brother as taken with her as I planned? Did her beautiful face drive a wedge between the two of you?"
"Of course not," there was the barest flicker in his eyes and his stance shifted slightly. Capable hands tightened on the hilt of his sword.
…
Arianna.
Arianna froze, her eyes widening in anger as Tynan emerged from the shadows, his obsidian eyes smug. She could not move, it was as if her feet refused to do her bidding, frozen on the ground. A snarl formed on her lips. A binding spell…how crude.
"Arianna, my lovely, how nice it is to see you once more," his lecherous voice raised the rage within her teeth bared. Then he laughed. "Her temper seems to have manifested in you my dear."
