A/N: You know, I never actually expected this story end up going on for so long. It's the longest story I've ever written, and probably the best, too. So, I would like to thank everyone who was reviewed with their helpful comments and encouragement (and professions of confusion) and thanks for sticking with it!
You guys rock!
And I will say (yet again) that this is NOT SLASH and NOT INCEST. I have nothing against either, but in this instance it is simply not appropriate.
And now, without further ado, I present…Ironic Synchronity, chapter fourteen…
Chapter fourteen
It was dark.
Peter didn't dare to open his eyes. Whatever lay beyond the barrier of his sight, he could be sure it would not be something he wanted to see. He could hear far away voices, fluctuating in and out of tune, indistinct.
'What do you mean?'
'There's no time, Son of Adam! Think!'
'I can't…I don't…understand…'
Peter knew those voices. One sounded despairing, soft and quiet, and painfully familiar. But he couldn't bring himself to match that voice with a face. He knew, were he to remember, he would have to leave this place. And he wasn't ready. Not yet.
The other voice had spoken to him only in prose. A long verse, filled with hope and anticipation. It was an old verse. It had been spoken to him twice, now.
'I don't know what to do! I want to help him, but I don't know how!'
'Then clear your mind of emotion, and follow only your heart.'
Peter curled into a tight ball, folding inwards, as if trying to hide or protect himself from some invisible force. He could feel the insistent tug of the warm, wafting breeze growing stronger. At first, he hadn't noticed it, but now it enveloped him, penetrating him gently. He winced, and called out.
"No…"
But it made no sound in the darkness beyond his closed lids. He remembered now. He had no lips to call with, no voice to speak with. He was a bodiless spirit, unending, unseeing, unknowing, unfeeling.
So why could he feel that familiar voice, if he had no ears to hear with?
'You must call him, human. Call him with all the strength your heart possesses.'
Silence.
'Peter?'
Peter felt a ghostly shadow of a hand enclose his wrist, and another covering his forehead. He shied away from the unexpected warmth, searching desperately for the cold, but it was nowhere to be found. Warmth was closing in on him, through him, swirling in the world beyond his denial.
'Peter…wake up…please…'
He lay still, the swirling patterns of warm air gathering together to form a steady mass, tugging him away from the cold. It was no longer dark beyond his closed eyelids. His world had turned a gentle, yellow hued shade of peach.
'Peter…I need you to wake up…I can't go on if you don't. I won't go on without you. You've always been stronger than any of us…and we need you now more than ever. Not just me, but Lucy, and Susan, too.'
Susan and Lucy? They…needed him? Where was he? He should be…there for them…he had promised his mother, his father, that he would be. Protect them, care for them as well as their parents would, and could have done.
Edmund…
Blinding light, a weary, accepting smile on his young face…his little brother, he had failed him…failed them all…but even so, they still needed him. No matter how much he failed, real responsibility was climbing back onto his feet, facing his failure in the face and reaching out his hand once again to his family.
Susan, Lucy…Edmund.
'Peter…please…'
His little brother's voice was growing stronger, louder, and yet it sounded so hopeless, so despairing. Did Edmund not believe in him?
Why should he?
He had failed them all. He had lost their trust. But he could regain it…he could get up, and fight, and…perhaps even make up for their father's death…
There was a searing, yet gentle pressure suddenly upon his forehead.
And with a sudden shuddering cry, Peter's voice could speak.
His eyes could see.
His ears could hear.
It was pain beyond the boundaries of wretchedness. It was intolerable, unendurable. His blood was frozen, then boiling in his veins. The trapped air in his lungs was stale and dust filled, and he dispelled it with stiff, tired muscles which ached with each movement. His heart was thundering, pounding in his ears, and he doubled over on a hard, stone surface, clutching his stomach.
Through the deafening torrent of battle within him, he heard a wavering voice softly sound above the confusion.
"Peter?"
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Edmund drew back in confused anticipation and apprehension as Peter's body suddenly jerked and convulsed as though suddenly struck by an invisible force. Cifel moved forwards suddenly, watching with impassive features, betrayed only by his eyes widening in fear.
"Peter?"
And then those china blue eyes flew open, and met Edmund's own.
In that fraction of a second, Edmund felt and saw a hundred differing emotions cross those impossibly bright sky coloured blue eyes, as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
The moment was broken as Peter took a deep, gasping breath like that of a drowning man surfacing from the depths, then shot upright only to bend over, arms clutching his stomach protectively.
Edmund watched in dismay as his brother seemed to choke on his own breath, his limbs shaking and shuddering with spasms as his body moved for the first time in days. Dust and tiny shards of ice littered the floor, and Edmund instinctively grabbed his brother's shoulders with a hand on either side and forced him carefully upright.
Peter raised his head, and their eyes met once again, Peter's now cloudy with moisture, before his brother ducked his head out over the side of the dais and began to retch violently.
Cifel jumped back in alarm, as Edmund moved to support his brother's upper body as he dispelled all the congealed liquids which had accumulated in his 'absence'. Cifel wrinkled his nose as Edmund shifted his weight to place a hand on his brother's chest, and another rubbing comforting circles absently on his back, just as their mother used to do when they were young.
As the spasms passed and Peter stopped throwing up, Edmund helped him back into a sitting position on the stone dais, wiped his older brother's mouth with the edge of the discarded navy cloak then wrapped it tightly around Peter's shoulders, trying to ignore the tremors which still ran through his brother's lanky form. He rested his forehead against his brother's temple and breathed in the scent that was distinctly Peter, drawing comfort from his older brother's presence even as he gave Peter some of his own.
He then looked up to meet Cifel's still unmoved gaze.
"Satisfied, oh great Guardian? I would kill you if Peter didn't need me, you know."
Cifel chuckled darkly at this, the sound echoing around the small chamber and clashing horribly with Peter's harsh, shuddering breaths. There was a moment of quiet.
"I must confess, Son of Adam…I am impressed. Although, I beg to differ on your violent intent. I doubt you would get within three feet with such negative thoughts."
He moved to the centre of the room once again, drawing himself up and folding his arms across his chest, head cocked slightly to the side, studying Edmund and Peter with an unreadable gaze.
"Unconditional love, sealed with an unabashed kiss. It was the final part of the bond to break the spell. Selflessness, willing even before loss of dignity…strength which was born from more than simple determination."
Cifel gave a small, weak smile.
"For that is the way, the only way…as the poem states…to win the well fought fight."
Edmund's hand clutched his brother's shoulder even tighter at these words. They had already given so much to war…were there yet more battles to be fought, more blood to be shed? Their blood?
"And now, Edmund, Son of Adam and Knight of the Realm, I must leave you for a moment. You have a long journey ahead of you, and it shall do no good to be ill prepared."
"What? Journey? Hey, wait!"
But Edmund's confused protest was lost as Cifel left the room in whirl of grey and blue, and disappeared up the steps of the crypt and into the pale light above. Edmund glared after him for a moment, when Peter began to cough again.
"Are you…" what didyou say to a person who was practically back from the dead?
"Are you okay, Peter?"
Peter managed a small nod, which sent a cloud of dust and frost particles flying in a shroud all around them, and Edmund sneezed, smiling weakly and rubbing his nose.
"Bless…you…"
Peter rasped out, and Edmund was so pleased to hear his voice again he forgot to glare at him.
"Thank you."
They looked at each other for a moment, and Edmund chuckled weakly at the simple oddity of the situation. Peter did too. Then they faded, Peter's turning into spluttered coughing, and Edmund's into choked sobbing.
There was no need to express their relief, their joy, their fears and their pain to each other. They reached out together as though of one mind, and embraced tightly, clinging to each other as though each felt the other would vanish if they were ever to let go.
And so they sat there in the cold crypt on a hard stone dais, two children trembling and weeping in fear and despair and relief, and a myriad of other emotions some of which have not even been named. And they faced their fears together, united, and felt no shame in their tears, as their only witness was each other.
And perhaps a small patch of delicate blue flowers, peeping through a crack in the paved floor in a far corner.
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Cifel re-entered the crypt silently, sparing only a brief glance at the two humans who were now attempting to suppress their pathetic human emotions through meager comfort. He suppressed a snort, uncomfortable in disturbing them regardless. Besides, he had other things to concern himself with.
Two traveling cloaks, food parcels, drinking pouches, two belts, traveling packs, one change of clothes each, and the two swords he had retrieved from the restricted section of the armory. He admired these two particular items with reverence. Obviously dwarf made, fine wrought blades, engraved with some sort of ancient poetical nonsense. Not that the Son's of Adam could read it anyway, so what did it matter? Well, it looked pretty, Cifel supposed…dwarves were queer folk…
He sighed. What was he, the human's temporary mother, or something? How the little runts were expected to save the entire country was beyond him. He hadn't seen anything special so far which could convince him otherwise, apart from that they had an ability to feel emotions and use them to their advantage, and had great team spirit. That would not be enough to defeat the witch.
'But, perhaps with your help, they could.'
Came a little voice of what was left of his conscience, which sounded disturbingly like Aslan. Cifel growled to himself, breaking the two Son's of Adam out of their reverie. He was beyond such things. He had made that decision long ago.
Reluctantly, Cifel turned to address the two human's, the youngest of which was helping the eldest off the stone dais to stand upright on the floor. He noted with more than a little smugness just how much shorter Edmund was in relation to Peter. He gestured down at the items laid neatly in a pile at his feet.
"This is all you will need; there is a side gate on the left side of the courtyard, hidden by the stone giant's feet; it is unlocked, and leads straight to a rough path which eventually comes to a steep flight of stairs downwards. Wait at the top of the flight for the sun to fully set and then get across the frozen lake as fast as you can. Here…"
He rifled in his tunic, and pulled out a small, folded slip of paper, which he shoved forcibly into Edmund's free hand, as the other was holding his brother upright.
"This is a rough map of Narnia. The dotted lines are the newly erected borders of the witch's realm."
He held up a hand to stall any interruptions.
"There is not time to explain now. Keep to the edges of the mountains to the East, then cross them by the coast. Walk along the cliff by the shore beside Owlwood, then veer diagonally West past Cair Paravel, and you should come to the river. See the meander, and the small stream which breaks off from it? That stream will lead you straight back to your camp."
Edmund looked at him seriously, dark eyes seemingly absorbing all the information and analyzing it carefully. Eventually, he spoke.
"I don't know whether I can trust you, Sennjan, or Lucifel or whatever, but right now we have no choice. We cannot stay here."
Cifel was taken aback. He had expected an outburst, not quiet acceptance. He brushed off his surprise and continued.
"One last thing. See these?"
He held up two small glass vials, one with a misty grey coloured liquid, and the other with a pale leafy green.
"The cloud coloured one is a medicine, of sorts. It will help your brother recover his strength. And this…" he smirked, as he placed them both down beside the traveling packs "…well, it contains all the supplements plus a little extra which you'll need to grow taller, and fast. Seriously kid, you can't protect your brother with that height disadvantage."
Edmund spluttered indignantly, and Peter suppressed a small smile, feeling any more effort wasted on a bodily function which wasn't essential could be his last for a while.
"Just whose side are you on, anyway?"
Edmund burst out, eyes narrowed, surveying the pile of items on the floor and Cifel with an affronted glare.
Cifel smirked as he casually turned on his heel and headed for the steps, throwing his answer over his shoulder as he did so.
"Why, mine, of course."
And he was gone.
There was a pause.
"Can we trust him?"
Peter's voice was thin, but steady. Edmund calmed himself and bent down to inspect the items on the floor, handing the largest belt to his brother, who put it on without question.
"No." he said, sighing. "But we have no other choice."
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A/N: PHEW, this was a long chapter to write…I'm exhausted. Congratulations to Tamed Chaos, CryinCindyLouWho, Capegioand Argentus, who all correctly guessed which biblical reference Cifel is related to. However…now you must all ponder just what could happen in order for him to live up to that reference…or what has already happened… (smiles knowingly)
Aw! The cuteness…I've gotta go eat more sugar before my fluff energy runs out…next chapter, Edmund and Peter enjoy the wonders (and handicaps) of brotherhood, Susan and Lucy wonder at the curses of puberty, Aslan reminisces and explains the whole back story in the process, and Edmund discovers he has absolutely no sense of direction.
I personally am very glad to have some normal interaction from Edmund and Peter. All the angst was getting a bit overbearing…but have no fear, angst fans! There will be much, much more to come, very soon…(thinks evil thoughts)
Do a fellow human a favour! Please review!