Disclaimer: The only thing I can claim in this story is the psychopath. Lucky me.

Beta'd by trustingHim17—thank you!

OOOOO

Edmund had led charges before, and Peter knew his brother's skill. Peter felt only pride as his brother led, the soldiers falling in behind, and Edmund continued cautious but relentless. He did not envy Dagguer's reckoning.

But nor did he feel sorry for the madman. Narnian soldiers might die. Narnians, innocent ones, had died.

But not after today.

Edmund paused at the cavern, sending in the Cats to scout with a few quiet words. They came back before Peter drew two breaths, signaling all was clear with quick nods. Again the Narnians entered the cavern—though there are more of them this time than last—and again the Dogs took the lead, rushing from door to door, sniffing, yelping quietly, and whining impatiently at each false lead. Peter stole up to where Edmund waited and indicated the door to the sleeping chambers.

"Some of our enemies rested therein." Together the Kings sent soldiers down that carved corridor and waited on their return. The Dogs found a promising corridor in the meantime, but the Kings waited till the group returned, disappointingly empty-handed.

"The covers were thrown on the floor, the beds unmade," a Dwarf reported. "I'd say they were summoned to the fight, Your Majesties, and as they didn't come to our entrance, they'll be at the last."

"Then we have a battle at last." Edmund's eyes were bright with that furious justice.

Peter too felt the itch to punish the band, for the Narnians who perished, for the threats against his Kingdom, and for Susan's bleeding neck and her tears when Dagguer took him. The memory of that blade cutting her skin still made his anger rise.

He despised the binding of his oath with all his warrior's might in that moment.

"Archers to the rear, Cats and Dogs to the front, Fauns on the left, Dwarves to the right. Aslan send us victory, and justice to our enemies." Edmund's whispered command brought him back to the present moment, and the High King returned again to his sisters, following the archers into the largest passageway he'd yet entered. This was what was allowed him. This, then, is what he must do well.

Whatever else he might wish to do.

Longer and longer, and though the Narnians tried to be quiet, the passage of a large group must be marked by some sound. Dagguer was smarter than his followers, posting lookouts inside the cave. A man yelled an alarm, and though he fell a moment later with the Gentle Queen's arrow in his throat, the alarm was passed in other voices, and pounding footsteps drowned out the tiptoeing Narnians. The soldiers in front responded instantly, the Dwarves at the front forming a shield wall, strong arms locked around each other. A moment later the Cats stood just behind, crouched to spring, mixing with the Fauns, and Edmund and Jarrick, who were tall enough to thrust over the shields. Ten archers sped past Peter and his sisters, turning to guard the rear, just in case, and the rest set arrows to string. A pause; the footsteps in the front coming closer, and then the Dwarves began to march. Sturdy, stubborn bodies, shields walled in front, inexorably moving onward. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The footsteps of the Sons of Earth led the way.

The shouts of men grew louder, and members of the band appeared around the curve, stumbling back and into their fellow soldiers at the sight of the soldiers in front of them. But their shock left anger behind, and with shouts that echoed in the cave till the words could not be heard, the men raised their swords and fell on the Narnians.

Around Peter the twang of bowstrings rang over and over, and the men at the back began falling, the arrows invisible in the flickering light till they hit. Peter raked his eyes over the front, grasping his sword, pulling it out, helplessly holding it. Bound by his word, how he hated this! Two Dwarves fell, and two Fauns from behind took their place, thrusting their own shields forward, but a few men had made it through the gap; Edmund fought one, winning, two Fauns another, Jarrick—

Jarrick was losing, aging carpenter's hands shaking under the stress of the blows. Peter stepped forward, halted, took another step—and a Cat came to the rescue, pushing the man to the floor by leaping on his shoulders, and killing him there.

The shield wall still pressed forward, forward. They were almost to the curve in the passage now. Two archers had picked up the Dwarves; one fumbling for bandages for a deep cut in his shield arm, the other—

Lucy was going to the other, her cordial already in her hand.* Peter stayed, letting the soldiers push ahead. There were but ten archers behind, and he would not leave Lucy with just that, not with her own attention fixed on healing. A smell reached him, wild and delicious,** and he inhaled. He was ever thankful for that precious gift. A moment later the Dwarf was on his feet, bowing deeply to Valiant Queen.

"Think you that you can bear a shield now?" her merry voice asked, and the Dwarf grinned toothily, fitting his shield back onto his arm.

"The battle waits," Peter reminded them, and she turned at once. "Stay with the other wounded," he bid the Dwarf and the archer who had carried him, and then their Majesties moved forward, the ten archers just behind. They hurried around the curve, blinking as light struck them at once, Peter throwing his arm out to keep his sister behind him.

The mouth of the cave was just ahead, and it must have taken the Narnians by surprise, dissolving their shield wall. The space was too big. Narnians he had not seen, led by Lord Peridan—the third group—fought with the group he'd come with.

But they fought a legion.

Dagguer had far more men then he'd ever let Peter see. To the left, right before the ground dropped into a cliff, Peridan and a group of Fauns fought a ship's-worth of men in Galman dress; Edmund and the Dwarves of the shield wall were fighting at least fifteen men, swords flashing. The Dogs, Cats, a Squirrel—Patterfeet?—four Badgers, and a few Mice fought in groups, stepping over the bodies, Narnian and other. Susan, where was Susan? Side to side on the narrow strip of land in front of the opening, Peter could not see her. Surely she wasn't one of those on the ground! Edmund wouldn't let her—

A small hand tugged his arm, and Lucy gestured to the side of the mountain. Peter breathed out; Susan had climbed, set her feet, and was shooting arrow after arrow, not bothering to watch as man after man fell. Leo stood by her side, snarling at any who dared approach, while Por bounded forward and back, snatching arrows from the ground or in bodies and bringing them back to Narnia's archer. The other archers had followed their Queen, standing on the side of the mountain to Peter's right and shooting when they could.

Peter pushed Lucy behind him and to the side of the cave, rock behind her and himself in front. Sword in hand he stood, weighing the battle as he kept the youngest safe.

Edmund reformed the shield wall as a circle, his commands cutting through the battle. His sword swung right and left, clearing a path, dealing quick death over and over to those who'd dared to rise against his brother. He and his group marched, forward, backward, cutting down enemies and rescuing Narnians under siege. A Hawk circled around them, diving to help the King whenever his foes grew thick. Around the King the shield wall pushed the kidnappers out, away from the cave, no one was close—how could Peter help?

And where was Dagguer?

A man stumbled back towards them, arm bleeding, snarling, eyes locked on Lucy, and Peter raised his sword. Block, thrust up, swing, another block, and thrust, and the man was down. Two more came behind them, and Peter fought them as well, dancing, parrying, keeping them well away from Lucy, waiting till they started for her as the weaker prize and then cutting them down. A glance up; the battlefield still in play, but the Narnians were fighting back to back, in groups, pushing their enemy out where the archers could reach them. It was working. There were less than twenty left now, and still men fell to the arrows; those turning towards the archers to attack them were falling to the blades behind them. Lucy would be aching to join her sister and the others, and Peter, with a last glance outward, turned—

And saw Dagguer lunging from their left, jumping down from his place on the mountain, by passing the Queen without a glance. He had his sword pointed at Peter's throat before his feet were under him, and he glared, panting. "Your oath still holds," he snarled.

It did, and Peter swallowed, lowering his own sword. They were so close—

Lucy moved, her own dagger unsheathed raised to strike, but Dagguer sidestepped, still not attacking her, and forced Peter back. "You strike me and your brother dies." His easy tone was gone, his grin, all of it. His eyes were fully mad now, and Lucy froze, lowering her weapon.

"Cease!" Dagguer bellowed suddenly, and Peter caught himself before flinching. Dagguer was spitting as he roared, eyes still fixed on Peter, fury and madness rife. "Cease! I have the High King!"

Peter didn't move. Behind him he could hear the sound of sword on sword, metal on shield, and the hiss of arrows all falling silent.

"Shoot me and he dies," Dagguer said more calmly, eyes flicking up the mountain and then back down. He moved closer, till Peter's body shielded him. His sword rested against Peter's throat.

"What do you mean to do? Look around you!" It was Edmund's voice, as cutting as his sword had been moments before. "But for twelve men, your fighters are dead. Your home and haven is discovered. We sank the two ships near the shore; Rabadash discovered the third. You have no refuge, no army, and no fleet."

"You're lying." Dagguer glanced from one side to the other, Lucy to the Narnians behind Peter, up the mountainside to the archers. "You're lying. You're lying. You have to be lying. I'll prove you're lying!" He began edging towards the cliff edge, pressing Peter's throat to move the High King with him, still keeping Peter between himself and the archers.

"Let him," said Edmund's voice quietly. Not to Dagguer; to the soldiers. "He has nowhere to go." Step by slow step, the two moved. Behind them footsteps moved with them, some heavy, some light. The Narnians weren't letting their High King get far. Peter kept his eyes on Dagguer's hand, clenched around the hilt. The instant it wavered, Peter would throw himself back and roll.

It didn't waver. It started to shake, the point cutting small lines in Peter's skin. Peter looked up; Dagguer stood at the very edge, staring at the shore line far to their right, his face now pale.

"No," he mumbled. "No, I have the gold, I can buy more, I can-"

"You can't." Edmund's voice was closer; he must be moving while he thought Dagguer was distracted. "Your gold is gone too. Your men, your ships, your home, your gold—you have lost everything. Spare the High King and you will keep your life. It is the only thing you have left to lose."

"No!" Dagguer screamed, and Edmund cut himself off. "No! No! No!"

Oh Edmund, Peter thought. You can't see his face from where you stand. I wish I'd taken time to warn you of the madness of this man. The sword-tip was pressing in now, and Peter opened his mouth, trying to breathe without choking on metal. His ears still rang as Dagguer continued to scream.

"I haven't lost! I adapt, I think it through, I see people, I always win! I haven't lost! I'll-" he broke off abruptly. Peter looked back to his face, seeing the madness give way to cunning. "I'll rebuild it. Yes. Yes. Not mice—courage. And love," Dagguer muttered, eyes again flickering behind Peter, glancing up, above his head. Peter froze, dreading the outcome of what Dagguer was thinking. "Too right, Your Majesty, I've lost everything. I can't have that now, can I? But I'm a business man, I am. Now, I've your High King, and I think you want him back. Tashbaan won't pay for him anyway, and he's the most important, more important than anyone else. What would you give for him, King of Narnia?"

"You wish for gold?" Edmund's tone was wary but polite; an opening gambit.

"What good would that do me now? I've no way to get it and myself away from Narnia."

"A gold and a ship, then?"

"Well, that's right kind of you, but this is the High King, ain't it? It's worth more than that! More than any other life here, am I right?"

A bargaining stall in the market, Peter thought irrelevantly. Of such were made the courts of kings.

"You wish another life?" Edmund asked quietly. "You may have mine, if you require it." Peter stiffened, but knew better than to argue, trusting his brother. Before any agreement could be made, they had to draw Dagguer into the bargaining so completely the madness vanished. And now that Edmund knew it was there, he was trying.

And succeeding. But Peter did not find the cunning any more comforting than the madness. Because Dagguer was quiet, pretending to consider it—to consider taking Edmund's freedom. And possibly his life.

"Nooooo," Dagguer pondered. "I don't think that's rightly what I'm asking. See, I keep my ears open, I do, and we had this Calormene here, Uvayeth, his name was, and he liked to talk. And he liked to talk about you Four, Your Majesty, and one of the things he said was how much Rabadash liked that beautiful Queen up there. Now, if the future Tisroc likes her, and the old Tisroc dies soon, why, she'd be worth a king's ransom! So here's my bargain, Kings of Narnia. You give me and my men that ship, and the Queen there agrees to come with us, quiet-like, and we'll treat her right, and not touch a hair on her head, and when the old Tisroc dies, she'll be the new one's wife.*** See? Narnia wins, she wins, Calormen wins, and I win, and everyone's happ—"

"Silence." Edmund's voice was wintry cold and closer than ever. "You know not what you ask." Peter stood, trying desperately to rein in his rage at the mention of Susan sold—sold, a slave—to the Prince who'd hunted her, hurt her spirit, and threatened to drag her from Narnia by her hair. He pushed himself forward, ready to throw Dagguer off balance, but a hand caught his shoulder and held him back. He swallowed, calming. He would not make Edmund's task harder; it must be hard enough, to be caught between as a man demanded he make a choice between two of his siblings.

"Edmund," said a quiet, unsure voice, and Dagguer's eyes flicked greedily upwards again.

"No." Peter cut her off.

"If it saves you, Peter—would it not be worth it? This began with my wayward heart-"

"How much, think you, the new Tisroc will offer you for my sister?" Edmund asked, talking over his sister. "Do you not think Narnia can offer as much? Now, for the life you already have at the end of your sword?"

Dagguer tilted his head, considering Peter, raking him over with his eyes. Regretfully, he shook his head. "Now, that wouldn't be proper business dealings, would it? That's a ransom demand, that is, and I'd be labeled as a pirate, and then Galma wouldn't welcome me back. No, a proper exchange is better, it is."

Madman. Peter grimaced. A sword at the High King's throat, and Dagguer still clung to his insane illusion of being a business man. Perhaps that was how he lived with himself.

He would not live if he touched a hair of Susan's head again, Peter swore silently. Dagguer did not know his peril, for he'd looked up at the Gentle Queen and begun wheedling. "Now, Your Majesty, you heard your brother's oath." Peter clenched, sick to his stomach. He knew what Susan would say, what she would do. And he could not let this happen, any more than Edmund could. There had to be a way out; he could not bear to see the same events play over again, their roles reversed. For Dagguer continued, "I say we'd need another like it. So, here's what I want—"

"No!" It was a high, shrill scream, Peter's thoughts in a higher key, and then a warm, light weight hit his shoulder. The next moment Patterfeet gathered himself and sprang again, forward, past the length of the sword and onto Dagguer's face, scratching and screaming, "Not again! No! You don't touch them!"

Dagguer dropped the sword, hands rising to hit the Squirrel on his face as he stepped backwards to get away—and stepped right off the cliff. Peter lunged forward, reaching, already knowing Edmund would catch him if he lost his balance, but he was too late, and his hand clenched empty air as the man and Squirrel fell, off the cliff, Dagguer screaming, Patterfeet yelling back at the man he kept beneath his claws, falling until they hit the water.

"Patterfeet!" Edmund's hand still clutched his shoulder, and the High King stood on the cliff. Patterfeet. The Squirrel who followed him here, brought his rescuers, handed him keys, and served him water. It was not the first time a Narnian had given their lives for him, but it hurt every time. He turned, and Edmund was there, and he hugged his brother and held him close without a word, grieving together.

For a few minutes. But twelve men still stood, by Edmund's count, and Narnians were wounded. Later was the time to grieve, and Peter took his sorrow, shoved it backwards, and straightened. Together the brothers walked away from the edge, and Peter tried not to glance back. Lucy was already kneeling by the wounded, and there were Wolves at her side. Peridan had men collecting weapons and having surrendered captives sit down; Jarrick was putting Narnians to work binding up the enemy wounded. Peter wiped his sword, sheathed it, and went to take his place in the aftermath. His oath was finished, his captivity ended, and he'd been given a task to do.

Later, with his family, he would talk about what had happened, what was lost, and what would happen next.

OOOOO

*I am aware she was not to carry this "commonly to the wars," but I could also see the three siblings looking at each other, knowing Peter might need it when they found him, and unanimously agreeing for her to bring it.
**Ok, I'm going mad here. I could have sworn there was a description somewhere in the books of the cordial's distinct smell, but the closest I could find was in VOTD when she cures Eustace of his seasickness and it just says the smell was delicious. Does anyone remember something in the book like that?
***This idea came up during a conversation (on a completely different subject, because my mind likes to jump tracks at inconvenient times) with ScribeofHeroes, and this is giving credit for inspiration where credit is due. :)

Response to Anonymousme: I have not read the story you mentioned in the review on "Sometimes It Hurts," but I like to see if I can find things, and based on your description, it might be "Masks" by Feste the Fool. Again, I have not read that story, but it might be the one you're looking for? Can you let me know if it is, please? Written 2009-2010, so yes, it was old. :) Hopefully this chapter was climatic enough? Healer, Queen, Kings, fighting, and Patterfeet (poor thing)...I tried to include everything without crowding it. The next chapter will be the last, tying up loose ends. I'm kind of curious, I've never heard "how under the canopy," but I like it - is that family saying, or a familiar one I've just never heard? Aldi is a grocery store that sells overstocked items from other stories, so you can't be guaranteed to find anything, but it's much, much cheaper. The Thief series follows the story of...you know what, I typed out a large paragraph and realised to write it spoils the entire first book. The main character is assigned to steal a stone that (legend has it) gives immortality; it has at least great symbolic power, and one of three kingdoms on a small island takes the Thief from prison to get his help stealing it for their king. It's set in a time very similar to our Medes and Persians empire in the past. The first book is one where you read the ending, looking up, say "WHAT?" and go back and reread it and realise it was forshadowed all along. The third book is one I've almost memorised. But I can't tell you anything about it without spoiling the first one, so sorry!