Chapter four

Thanks so much to Capegio, jumanji, Aangsgal and Aibari for the encouraging reviews! Yes, I realize this is a very confusing story. And I'm afraid it only get's more confusing as it progresses! I will include an explanation of the dreams in chapter five.

(A/N: This little section at the beginning is referring to Peter, Edmund and Henry (their father) all at the same time…if that makes sense -- the idea is that they are all at the point of complete despair)

Also, the dream sequence is NOT a default; you must be patient and read it all the way through.

Chapter 4

He was cold.

His bones shuddered with the oppressive bite of the tendrils of darkness seeping throughout his body. It was nothing like any cold he had felt before, but one which ran deeper, and penetrated farther into the very core of his soul. He wished fervently a mere shiver could dispel its icy shroud, but he could barely move. He implored his body to move, anything, to regain any semblance of warmth.

He was cold...

So very cold.

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Laughter.

Laughter on the sunset lit shores…rays casting dancing red and yellow sparks across the glistening surface. Coarse sand beneath his feet, shells scattered here and there among seaweed and small pebbles covered with foam. Rushing waves, children's laughter.

"Co' won, Ed!"

There she was again, blue, flower printed dress, half his height. Her hands once again clutched the bright red bucket and yellow spade. She laughed, and padded, stumbling slightly, across the wet sand towards where the tide reached its highest point, as they had done so before. There, the familiar two small children, one with plaited brown hair, the other with windswept blond, stooped over the nearest tail of seaweed.

"It's a fish!"

"Don't be stupid! It has no eyes. All fish have eyes."

"It do!"

"No, Lu, that's a shell…and you say 'it does' not 'it do'…"

Edmund frowned, and hurried over to stand beside them, glancing about in the hope of locating the force which had destroyed this scene in its second act. There was nothing out of the ordinary, however. Only sand, the three children, his mother, and his father.

"Don't touch it, Peter!"

"It's just a fish!"

"It's NOT a fish!"

He reached out a hand to grasp Susan's shoulder, who was closest to him, but thought better of it. If he were to distort the memory…it might bring out the terrible disruption which had occurred before.

Edmund was jolted out of his reverie for the second time as there were once again screams of laughter, then Susan and Lucy, hand in hand, raced back up the sand dunes towards their mother. Edmund looked down to see Peter, trousers rolled up into lopsided clumps around his knees, just as he had stood before. Edmund frowned.

Wait. Something…isn't right.

"Hey, Ed. I lost my spade. You didn't take it, did you!"

Edmund stared down at his brothers small form, hands on hips, glaring up at him. This wasn't right. Peter had had a spade, he knew it, both in the previous memory and at the time it had truly happened. Why did he not have one now? What did it mean? Edmund inhaled sharply, and took a quick step forwards to grab his brother's arm.

"Listen, we have to leave. Soon, I don't know when, but soon, there'll be an earthquake, and…"

Peter wrenched his considerably smaller arm out of Edmund's grip and turned to the nearest rock pool, smiling and laughing slightly, spade apparently forgotten.

"Silly! Earthquakes don't happen on a beach, they can't. You coming?"

He reached out a hand to grasp the sharp edge of the nearest crevice, and hauled himself up to place one sandaled foot into a small jagged hole in the side. Edmund felt a sudden, unexplainable stab of fear and stepped forward and once again took Peter by the arm. For some reason, he felt the moment Peter scaled the rock and left his sight, he would be lost.

"No! Don't. What about the spade? We'll need it, won't we?

Peter's round face split into a grin, and he held out his other hand, which was wrapped tightly around the hilt of an enormous sword. Edmund stared. He knew that sword; knew it all too well. He could see it now, drenched in blood glistening in the midday sun as a battle raged around it.

"See? I don't need a spade anymore." Peter stated proudly, hopping down to once again stand beside Edmund, whose eyes watched the hilt of the sword, which seemed horribly large for such a small hand.

The sword. A battle. Blood, red. A lion, two lions. Peter.

The world began to spin. There were voices, far off, calling, shouting, crying. Battle… a large bull, horses…the witch…wand, broken, a blinding light…

The beach again began to shake, and Edmund could hear the far off cries of his sisters, and his mother's frantic cries for her sons to come to her. They were louder, desperate, more frantic than before.

"Edmund?"

There was a loud clang of metal as the sword was dropped, and Edmund felt two small shaking hands wrap around his arm. Peter huddled at his side, his wide eyes staring around with utter terror swirling in their depths. Edmund stared wildly about, trying to see the source of the disturbance, blocking out the screams and cries from up the beach, waiting. Peter's hands on his arm tightened convulsively and Edmund heard a small gasp before one hand raised to point shakily to the upper beach.

It was swirling, caving in on itself, forming a deep crevice. The sea came crashing forwards just as it had done before, and Edmund made a wild grab for the small boy beside him, who cried out before he was wrenched below the surface of the raging water. Edmund stared at the point where his brother had disappeared, and felt his heart fill with a now very familiar despair. He swept wildly about in the knee high water, searching desperately for a mop of blond hair or the sight of china blue eyes. He looked up, and felt his eyes sting as he saw the beach was utterly deserted.

"SUSAN! LUCY!"

The darkness pressed in, forming a black void around him, but he could still hear their echoing cries all around him. All of them…his sisters, his brother. His family…

"Where are you!"

Edmund scanned the now calming surface of the water, as his chest seemed to tear itself apart as he fought the urge to cry bitterly. They were gone.

"PETER!"

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Cifel sighed deeply as he laid the bloodstained chain mail, armour plating and crimson garments down in a niche set low into the stone wall. What could be the witches' possible motive behind this? It was just so…strange. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating. This place was not so cold as the structure around it. It was cool, and Cifel could have sworn it had grown warmer since he had entered it. He and the boy. He turned, and regarded the still form with confusion.

The witch had been very detailed in her instructions. All items, besides the sword and shield, of course, to be laid in the niche. New clothes, of many hues of grey, silver, blue, black and white were to be given, and any additional items found were to be given to the witch. But, most strange of all, was the room, if it was even that, she had instructed him to keep the boy in. Hidden beneath the earth of the main courtyard, concealed by what appeared to be a mourning stone adorned with a cross, a small crypt. It contained a large, plain stone raised structure, three feet from the ground, with a smooth cylindrical addition sitting on the farthest end, and the smallest decoration of a long garland trail of simple flowers carved into the brim. The room itself was rectangular, five feet across and seven feet down, barely large enough to hold the stone.

Cifel carefully reached down, and lifted the boy with little effort. He placed him on the coffin shaped stone, and settled his arms across his torso comfortably, placing a hand beneath the thatch of blond hair and lifting his head onto the cylindrical structure. He then leant against the structure, watching the boys chest rise and fall evenly, feeling troubled. He wasn't sure of the witch's intentions, but he knew he by no means wished to aid her, if he could help it. He smiled kindly down at the boy's face and placed a gentle hand on his forehead, noting how warm it was despite the perishing cold.

"Do not despair, child. Search and await the light to guide your way."

Eying the cold, hard surface of the stone, Cifel reached up to unclasp the silver brooch which held his clock lopsidedly around his shoulders, and placed the smooth, navy coloured woven material over the boy. He stood still for a moment, allowing his body to adapt to the sudden change in temperature and mass, before clasping his hands awkwardly, the thumbs, forefingers and little fingers curled in a slight arch around each other while the remaining four stood in a symmetrical hollow.

He took a long breath, and let it out with a stream of pearly white mist. He calmed his nerves, found his centre of balance and began to enunciate in a hoarse whisper which echoed and resounded within the smallest cracks within the crypt:

'Though doomed you are to slumber hither

Till ages pass, and love doth wither

Heed my words, a kingly grace

Falls most fairly upon your face

Even in sleep you may be found

Which by blood may be unbound

Through a love, by blood unknown

Two kings may sit upon their throne

Pure love's mark laid, and born anew

The bond by which was forged so true

Then sleep no more, but rise forthwith

Look not afore, but justly forgive

Patience, sweet Prince, despair not so

Return love with love, and malice forgo

Only then shall come the well fought fight

A curse, a blessing, a quest for light.'

Cifel opened his eyes, and watched with slight sadness as the frosty tendrils of pearly smoke curled up from the ground and encircled the stone. He turned, and ascended the steps to the slit of light creeping in through the gap left for his exit, between the slab concealing the entrance and the rim of the hole.

It seems he would have his work cut out for him.

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A/N: I was a little worried about the dreams, and the poem/spell, but I think they came out okay in the end. What did you think? Review and let me know!