A/N: I know this took longer than usual, but I have several very good excuses; firstly, the space bar on my keyboard went crappy on me, so I got a new keyboard. Then the whole frigging computer got spyware and I had to go without the internet for two days. TWO DAYS! Anyway, so that's why. Go and beat the crap out of the spyware people, it's their fault this chapter was late (glowers)
Oh yeah, I've also worked out why I get no reviews during the day and then loads overnight. Because I live in Britain, my daytime is your nighttime. So I don't stay up all night to update, after all…am I right?
And I also lost a whole page of chapter thirteen, and cannot remember ANY of it. I am going to have to redo it now…sorry if it seems a little rushed.
And now…(sighs and cracks knuckles)
Chapter thirteen
"He's not dead, you know. Not yet."
Edmund did not turn to look at the other. He did not want to see the smirking face, the mocking eyes. He was so weak with relief he couldn't even bring himself to snap at Cifel. His anger was being sapped, diverted to feed the fluctuating emotions which engulfed him. Relief. Numb despair. Panic.
"You-"
His voice was unsteady, as though he were on the verge of tears, but there was no moisture gathering in his eyes. Peter would not have wanted him to cry. Peter would have wanted him to be strong, like his older brother was.
Edmund placed a hand just above his brother's face, and felt no warm tingle of exhaled breath on the back. The hand dropped to rest on the pale cheek. It was perishing with cold, and was covered in a light layer of dust and moisture. Edmund pushed it away as he continued, his voice steadier now.
"What, exactly…" his voice was dangerously quiet, and his hand dropped away to rest on his brother's shoulder allowing him to turn to look Cifel in the eye. He swallowed thickly, fist clenching in the soft material of Peter's shirt, as though to anchor himself to reality.
"Did you do to my brother?"
His voice rose in volume as he spoke, until the last word was yelled, echoing around the silent chamber and mimicking him in a sick mockery, repeating the last word like a mantra. Cifel moved carefully away from the wall, face impassive, and moved to stand beside Edmund, who moved to block his brother from view.
"It is…complex." Cifel began, holding a hand up to still Edmund's unspoken interruption "But I shall explain. You must be patient, however. Losing control will not help your brother now."
Edmund's anger rose again, but sank as he realized that, unfortunately, Cifel was right. He needed to stay focused, remain calm. But Peter was his brother…
"As I said, he is not dead." Cifel pushed past Edmund's protective arm to grasp Peter's wrist, frowning.
"Not quite. His body is still living, the pulse is just too weak to feel it."
Cifel dug his fingers deep into Peter's inner wrist, to which Edmund made a noise of protest and made to wrench the offending arm away, but Cifel shook his head. There was a moment of absolute silence as Cifel frowned down at Peter, while Edmund frowned at Cifel.
Then Cifel drew back, nodding, and Edmund pulled the sleeve down over the bruising which rose on his brother's wrist, glaring daggers at the back of Cifel's head.
"Yes," the other boy muttered distractedly "Pulse steady, aura signature still present…no sign of inhalation, though…that is strange…perhaps I waited too long…"
"But why!"
Edmund burst out, looking from Peter's face to Cifel's, the desperation taking hold.
"Why is he like this?"
"Because…" Cifel hesitated, and then continued on "…because his soul has been separated from his body."
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Cifel watched as the youngest son of Adam blinked once, twice, then three times, and wondered if he had accidentally sent the boy into shock. He had heard of human ties with their families causing diverse reactions, but this was ridiculous. The boy was practically besotted with his brother, and keeping him safe. He had felt the troubling aura patterns emanating when the boy had first entered the crypt, and was beginning to become concerned for his own safety.
After all, emotions were a powerful thing. Especially love.
But love can be deceitful. Make you blind. Humans didn't seem to care, however.
"WHAT?"
Cifel gathered his wits and readied himself for the coming onslaught. It could have been worse, he supposed. The boy could have fainted or something, and then he would be lumbered with two utterly useless allies instead of one.
Not that they were allied except by force of the situation, of course. But Cifel was glad at that. Emotion led to attachment, attachment led to commitment, commitment led to mistakes, mistakes led to problems and problems led to complications.
Cifel blinked.
He had to stop confusing himself…it was becoming a rather annoying habit.
He was startled out of his reverie as he suddenly found the boy's face close to his, hands twisting in his cloak, before he was bodily thrown across the room and into the far wall. He instantly conjured a shield out of pure instinct, and rebounded of the floor to look up into the narrow, stormy dark eyes of the other.
This could take quite some considerable time.
"What do you mean? His…soul? But…where is it now? How do we get it back?"
Cifel rubbed his temples absently as he thought carefully. The spell he had used to enchant the boy was of deep magic. It had originally been used as a test for early knights of the order of the Lion, in order to test their intentions were pure and their ability to love their King and their Country was true. Apart from anything, it also was a way of telling if they were intelligent or not.
"His body is here and well, but his soul…" Cifel closed his eyes, thinking, "I cannot sense him. He could be anywhere. He will not have moved in this time, but he could have moved in space. Souls are not physical vessels, you know. They can move between the worlds at will."
Edmund's eyes narrowed as he stared with an intense gaze at Cifel.
"So what you're saying," he began, voice rising "Is while I've been sitting back forgetting my whole life ever existed…Peter's soul has been wandering around all the worlds." He turned slowly to Cifel. "And you did it to us."
"Under orders by the witch, of course. Before you go all valiant on me, human, allow me to say this: your brother's soul could have been anywhere in the dimensions. It is likely he subconsciously willed himself to somewhere where someone, or something, was familiar to him, so I doubt he went beyond the world of the wardrobe-"
"How do you know about the wardrobe!"
Edmund cut in, but Cifel resolutely ignored him and continued.
"-so that is not the problem here. You see, the charm I have bestowed upon him is deep magic. It can only be countered by the breaking of the charm with the original factor it was supposed to be broken with."
Cifel cleared his throat, and stood up straight, arms hanging limply at his sides.
"You see, in the olden days, Knights of Narnia, before they were bestowed that title, had to pass a series of tests, most grueling ones, at that. The seventh and final test was a test of the heart, rather than physical or mental prowess."
Cifel placed a steady hand on Peter's forehead and continued.
"Someone dear to the initiate was subjected to the deep magic I used to charm your brother. If they broke it, then that initiate was granted his title. However…"
Cifel moved away from Peter and stood instead in the middle of the room.
"There was a limit. If the initiate took too long, their loved ones came back…changed. No one could explain it, and the charmed ones themselves certainly weren't telling."
Cifel watched as Edmund's face grew paler.
"There was an overseer to all of this, of course. And they were the only ones who knew precisely what happened to those placed under the deep magic. The most powerful creature in Narnia, the Guardian of the Gate left in charge by the Great Lion himself."
Edmund frowned.
"Then how…"
Cifel rolled his eyes and smacked Edmund upside the head.
"I am that Guardian, idiot! Or I was, a long time ago."
Cifel closed his eyes tightly and leant against the dais, drawing strength from its solidity. He took a deep breath.
"But I let my guard down. Despaired. Grew weaker as the hours of darkness grew longer, waiting in desperation for the Lion to return and relieve me of my post. But he never came. And the land of Narnia reflected my weakness. Guardians, you see, are tied inexplicably to the realm they are guarding."
Cifel hunched over, his voice growing louder with each word.
"Be patient, he said. Help will come, he promised me, he promised! And now, I discover the aid he told of is no more than a group of weak, pathetic, witless HUMANS!"
He slammed his fist down dangerously close to Peter's torso, and Edmund let out a strangled protest and pushed Cifel away from the dais, where the boy folded himself once again against the wall. He was breathing heavily, glaring at Edmund and Peter in turn.
"The witch came, my land became weaker with each passing rise and fall of the dimming sun. and with it, I grew weak, also. Eventually she set her sight on capturing the Guardian of the realm, and condemned me to suffer for the Lion's arrogance. She told me…"
He shuddered, and covered his ear with his hands, shaking his head violently.
"Whispers, treacherous lies, pouring into my ear…"
He seemed to quite suddenly gather himself together, and stood straight and tall, face once again impassive, but his hand shook at his sides. He took a deep, shuddering breath.
"But that holds no sway here."
He stood tall, and raised one hand to point at Edmund.
"What matters is this; I, Lucifel, Guardian of the Realm of Narnia, challenge you, Loved and Cursed child of the forbidden Earth, to prove yourself worthy of the Great Lion."
He lowered his hand, staring unblinkingly at Edmund.
"Son of Adam, win your spurs."
Edmund stared at him, his own hand searching out the larger, terribly cold hand of his brother, and he clasped it tightly, willing to feel the strength he always felt in his brother's presence. But Peter was not here. He was lost, and it was up to Edmund to find him.
Was this what responsibility was, he wondered? To love, and care so much you are unafraid to suffer, so long as the other was safe. And even when it is over, and you lie dead or dying beside them, to still feel only the pain of love? If it was so painful, why did it feel so right?
'Because he's your brother;' came a voice from deep within him, unbidden 'and you love him.'
Edmund drew himself up, gave one last glance down at his brother's still form, and carefully laid the hand he had clenched so tightly neatly on his brothers chest, before turning to face Cifel, dark eyes burning with an inner fire.
"What must I do?"
His voice was quiet, but strong. He feared no armies, no viciously sharpened blade descending. He was ready to prove himself now, and felt more grounded in reality than he had ever felt before. Was this what had been missing, all these years?
"Then listen carefully, Son of Adam, to the words I shall recite:
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."
There was a ringing silence.
"Well, Son of Adam? Your brother is waiting."
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A/N: So, now you know. Once AGAIN, I didn't get round to the sloppy escape. Apologies, but I don't want to rush this section. It is a very important part of the story, and sets the stage for the battle to come.
INPORTANT: To all the people complaining about the religious stuff, you've got the wrong end of the stick. It is not directly related to the story. It is unclear whether CS Lewis meant Aslan to be Jesus in our world, but this is an INTERPRETATION which I have taken a liking to. The religious thing is not a big part of the story, in fact, it will only get a few small references from now on, which I shall explain as we go. DON'T PANIC, PEOPLE!
ALSO IMPORTANT: Just to make things slightly clearer, I will explain the dreams one more time. Peter was not, in fact, dreaming. As his soul is detached from reality, he can will himself between the worlds. His body is able to survive without his soul, but only by the barest minimum.
So everything from Peter POV did, actually, happen. Henry Pevensie is really dead, and Helen Pevensie is really going insane. I would suggest going back and reading the last few chapters again with that knowledge and seeing how different it is to read.
To CryinCindyLouWho: Actually, that is a good idea, but no, Cifel is not a representative of Judas. You aren't far off, though. Here's a hint, which may give you insight on things to come if you correctly guess a second time: think wings.
To anyone who is jolly confused: Be patient. I will explain in time.
Oh, yes. Anybody think they know who Cifel represents?
Any comments would be appreciated! Please review!