The Terror

My eyes slowly fluttered open, and hazed as I was, the brightened figures in front of me with their luminous surfaces only seemed perturbing to me. I felt like a trapped bird, suffocating in the thin air. Or an insect crawling desperately on the mud. A bubble floating to the gurgling face of the water. Everything felt so distant and I was lost in the clamor of the raucous thumping of feet on the ground. One set of eyes blinked, flying to me, judging as my muscles twitched and my lashes fluttered with the increase in light. A raised hand set off many motions at once. The figures dispersed, the cluster disappeared, and the curtains were drawn, which I wanted to thank the figures for. My pupils dilated in the dimmed light and someone clasped my hand with theirs, rubbing my knuckles with their fingers. I felt, at once, an intense feeling of tranquil and ease.

I felt a warm, feather-light kiss on my forehead.

"You'll get better," my brother said, smiling as my eyes met his.

And then, once again, darkness rushed in.

"You'll get better," she says, "once you drink this. Promise."

'…Promise.'

The cuts on my chest burn ferociously once again; I can feel the heat emitting from them, the blood oozing and releasing slowly, dripping into the bowl set in front of my dangling feet. The sharp end of the quill scratches over my skin once again, tearing the white to draw red. But there's no pain. No pain to distract me from the much worse fear. The dread engulfing me is what causes me to weep. Not the pain. I am numb to physical agony. I feel, endure, sense the very depth of the mental torture I've been put under.

"It's delicious, isn't it? The spider," she says, stirring the soup with a ladle, igniting fumes, sprinkling what I hope is salt in it.

'…The spider!'

Just as she turns, flashing her black teeth in an obscene grin, the door kicks open with a snap!

I drift into the realm of dreams again.

"Peter. Peter. Brother, please."

My weary eyes take time to adjust to the dull lighting, and I barely register the touch when Edmund sweeps a hand over my forehead, looking for any signs of fever, I assume. Ed's warm hands cup my face, brushing my disheveled hair. I, dazed, only blink at him, unmoving the whole time. A voice speaks up from my left. I begin seething again.

"He's fine?"

"No fever. I've already given him the cordial. The girls?"

A nervous shuffling of feet. "They've escaped, but the Vri, they could be lurking around in the forest."

"My sisters are smart, Dracus. They'll be fine."

I lick my lips, trying to suck in another breath, let my vocal cords flutter, and help me find my voice. It's hoarse from screaming, but I murmur, "Lu and Su…they're…"

"They're alive. She lied to you, Peter. Poisoned you. You're fine now."

'…Just fine.'

"The girl…" I choke.

"Nightmares. That's it. Just hallucinations. You're alright," Edmund says, catching my exhausted upper body by my shoulders, steadily reeling me towards him until I am settled against his chest, breathing heavily. "Now, Peter, we…"

"Edmund," says an alarmed voice, reminding me that Dracus is here, too. He's still here. Stubbornly, obstinately, shamelessly here! I want to tell him to leave. But the alarm and urgency in his voice grows, though it goes almost unheard when even the wind's lash surpasses the volume of his voice, "It's here. I can hear its clicking."

Its clicking?

"Ed?" I question him, letting my head drop on his arm. He pulls me up, gathering me a little more securely against his chest.

He whispers to me, voice almost inaudible, a mere murmur, "Don't talk. Don't move. It's a Vris," he tells me, "they're blind creatures."

"Then…"

But he shushes me, glances once at Dracus who grips his sword's silver, gleaming hilt a little more tightly. "It can sense even the slightest movements. The lowest of breaths. The quietest of voices," he whispers close to my ear, making it twinge in the zephyr, "Dracus and I barely got by them. They're hideous creatures, Pete. Although we haven't really seen them. They're always so dark. But their hands, they're claws, sharp as a knife, skin as hard as a reptile's. And they click." I gulp, ready to ask him what he means. But he continues, "Their tongue comes out and they make the most horrendous noises, Peter. A constant clatter. They click when they sense something. Sense prey. They don't feed on Carrion. I've seen them, seen them devour…" here he hesitates, swallowing, "…a leopard they caught. Oh, Peter, the wails, the cries, they'll haunt me even in the grave."

"Edmund, it's close. What do we do?"

"Escape if we can. If not, then we fight. If we can survive the night, Susan and Lucy will come back with more forces. We can defeat them in the light. When we can see them," Edmund replies, and then I feel his chin slide over my hair as he turns his head again. His chin presses onto my scalp, digs in, as he glances down at me. "Can you try and move, Pete?"

I nod weakly and Ed slips an arm around my shoulders, holding me in a tight grip as I slowly straighten my legs and stand up, swaying uncontrollably. Another hand grabs my arm. Not recognizing the touch as my brother's, I instantly flinch away, giving Dracus a start. My brother and he exchange a somber glance. And when the darkness faded to the silver-light pouring in through the little window on the ceiling, I lean away from my brother, confident that I can stand straight. Edmund puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me once but I tell him I'm fine.

"Rhi—"

Edmund cuts me off, putting a strong hand over my mouth. I stop breathing. Then, when he's sure I understand, he lets me go. He makes a wavy motion with his hands and then crosses his fingers to form a cross. Then curls his hand into a fist. I understand at once, It's with the girls. Trust me. Then he makes scissor-like motions with both his hands, claps them silently, and then join them together as if praying. We have to move. Silently. Together. His fingers tangle again as he brings his hands together. Then points at Dracus and me. I shake my head in defiance. I motion at all three of us, joining my hands, clasping them together firmly.

Dracus, who's only getting snippets of the conversation, risks saying, "I'll distract it. And you can—"

Edmund has already denied it. "We go together."

I blink, unsatisfied that my brother is not seeing the obvious logical solution. "But Ed…"

Edmund looks at me furiously. "I know. I know you despise him, but no, Peter, I'm not letting him die for us. I'm not letting him die at all," he fulminates. I am reluctant to agree, but nod nevertheless. Edmund nods back at me, and then at Dracus, glancing at the floor, his gaze almost penetrating through it. He points to his left, and tells me with another wave of his hands, that that's where the stairs are. But before we can even move, there comes the most horrible sound.

Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka

An alligator's clicking. Or the night bug's crying. A squirrel's wail. But a million times more horrendous. It reverberates through the corridor, striking off the hideous, patched walls to vibrate in the hollow air and then ring brutally in our ears. The absolute intensity of the horrid sound never lessened, with every strike, it grew louder, until our ears started bleeding and it abruptly vanished from the air. In the sound's fear and daze, I almost lose my footing, but my brother's arm steadies me. He tells me to hold my breath with another silent motion of his fingers and then goes as still as a statue himself. Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka, the disturbing sound echoes again, shooting off the walls. But neither Dracus nor Ed move. Edmund only glances at me, his irises moving to the corner of his eyes.

And I cease any movement in my muscles. Only the shallow beating of my heart remains.

The clouds above fly away, and the full moon suddenly shines brightly through the little window, illuminating the corridor with silver. And with the light spreading, crawling slowly along the floor, showing me the enormous amount of blood pooled on it, it strikes the stairs' crooked railing. The cuts and flays and smears. And then a clawed hand scrapes the wood off it, forming a curling circle, as it glides forward, towards the orb that marks the stairs' end. It taps it. Once. Twice. Thri—

It stops halfway. The claw turns, rotating, twisting until it's directly pointing at us. Now, I can't breathe even if I want to. The Claw scratches the thumb once and then three more nails swipe up the orb. And then it comes into view. Silver striking off the flying black robe. It's completely hidden beneath it. Except its head. Its burnt, eyeless head. There are no hollow sockets. Burnt, blackened skin covers the space. I don't even imagine what the rest of it looks like. Its feet look exactly like its hands. Just bent backwards. The fingers face the wall. And the ankle us.

Dracus lets out one shuddering breath. I blink. And the Vris is sniffing, crawled down, feeling Dracus' feet with its mouth. I glance at my brother without moving my head. Ed shuts his eyes, making a silver tear fall, pure and undefiled, onto the ground. Plop, it ripples through the air. I make the mistake of blinking again, and the Vris' hairless head is staring at me as it sniffs, circling my brother, nuzzling its half-cut nose into his knee. I shake the urge to vomit, moving up my irises to get a look at my brother. He's praying. Without knowing, my lips move in sync with his.

'Aslan, our King, our Lord, we are Thine, in life and in death. If such fate must strike us, take us in Thy care, take us in Thy paws, in Thy cradle of life. Lion, we beg Thou, accept us, Thy chosen ones. Take us from this world and into Yours, should we ever meet the lady Death.'

And he looks at me, mouthing, "Go."

The Vris slides up his leg, its claws grating over his tunic. Scritch-scratch.

"Go, please," Edmund begs when the Vris slides further up, the claw on his chest now, the nose breathing in my brother's scent. And its tongue slips out of its mouth, brushing past its hundreds of teeth.

Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka

Edmund breathes.

"No!" I yell simultaneously. The Vris leaps at me, blind, and guided only by my voice. I dodge it once easily, jumping to my left, near to my brother who has already unsheathed Vera. And then once again, everything goes still. Dracus hasn't moved an inch. But he's closest to the Vris. And the creature brings out its tongue again, flapping its robe behind it. Dracus can see it whole. It rapidly circles him once, and hisses when it brushes past the sharp blade of his sword.

Dracus is shaking with sobs, racking sobs.

"Peter. Peter, no," Ed whispers to me, his eyes fixed on Dracus and the Vris now slowly rising up, licking his trousers.

"Shh…" I tell him, slowly crouching down. I warily pull out my dagger from my boot. Then rise up once again. The Vris is hovering right in front of Dracus now, shifting from side to side, unseeing, only listening. But Dracus is utterly still. Not breathing anymore. With a glance of his eyes, he accepts it, noticing the dagger in my hand. I wince at the grave yet noble face. Envious of a commoner? I? A King? Not anymore. And the dagger flies out of my hand.

Clinkkkkkkk…

So many things happen at once that it's a blur for me. The Vris jumps on Dracus, its claw digs into him, and then its hand drives through to come out from the other side. Edmund screams—or tries to scream, but I've already grabbed him, reeling him towards me, holding him tightly, my hand mercilessly pressing onto his mouth. He struggles but I settle down against the wall, pinning his legs down with mine, his arms with my arm, and stop him from screaming with a hard hand planted onto his mouth. He keeps thrashing against me, his muffled screams cut off, as the Vris feels for its prey and then begins dragging a screaming Dracus to the stairs.

"Hush, Ed. Just hush," I whisper to my brother, holding him closer, pinning him. But he's still screaming silently, struggling desperately against me. No, no, no, no, no…he keeps repeating, hitting me with his elbows, but I grab his hands with mine, clasping them together, rendering him motionless.

And when Dracus' bloody hand disappears behind the railing of the stairs, I let my brother go.

That was a mistake.

He already has Vera pointed at my throat, shaking with tears, but stiffened in sheer fury. "You monster."

'…Brother.'

"Ed?"

"You're a monster."

I stand up, the blade doesn't leave my skin, rising up with my neck. Edmund moves closer, elbow bending as he holds the blade in place, drawing blood already. "You killed him."

"I saved us," I correct. "And he'd accepted it. He told me to do it."

"You're not my brother," he says with conviction. And I believe him. "I would kill you. Oh, I want to kill you. But for my sisters, I'll take you back."

'…For Lucy.'

Edmund brings down his sword, looking at me in utter disgust. Dracus' horrible, tortured screams echo from down below, and Edmund's muscles tense, he looks away, shutting his eyes, making more tears squeeze out.

"Ed?" I try, my voice still hoarse and shaken.

"Don't. We go down the stairs and then…"

His eyes widen, his mouth hangs open, blood rises up in his throat and drips out rapidly. The claws wriggle and Edmund jerks once when the Vris twists its hand in him, and then pulls him with it, going faster than the wind into the door behind them. Slam! it closes. All in only two seconds.

I blink, stepping forward.

"Ed?"

I take another step forward, towards the door. "Edmund?"

"Eddie?" I try, sliding my hand over the door's rough surface. The scraped wood cuts my fingers, digging almost to the bone. I don't understand.

"Edmund!"

A raw scream answers me.

"Edmund!" I scream, slamming my fists onto the door. "Edmund!"

Another scream. More animalistic.

I kick the door, bang my fists on it, try to cut it open with Vera. But it doesn't budge. "Edmund!"

He has stopped screaming.

I sink to my knees, hard, erratic gasps escaping my lips. I knock on the door twice. "Ed?" No reply comes. "Edmund…" I say, crying, jerking with my sobs.

"Take me too."

"Please."

"I—"

"Oh, Aslan."

"EDMUUUUND!"

OOOOO

Author's note: If anyone has any theories about what's going to happen next, I'd love to hear. Or if you want a refund.

Response to P: I'm glad you could read it, even if you had to skim through most of the chapter. Was this better or worse?