I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just think "not as bad as what Ed had to go through" when I'm sitting there at the dentist's. Stop looking at me like that!
At the top of the staircase was another hallway, but this one was short, with a set of heavy, ornate doors at one end. Peter glanced at her before striding forward and pulling the doors open with some effort. Beyond them lay an immense chamber. Stone archways vaulted into the darkness high above their heads and there were still torches burning in mounted brackets, but mostly the room was lit by the strange blue glow of sunlight filtered through the lake waters.
"What do you think it was for?" asked Lucy, her voice unconsciously hushed. It still echoed spookily in the empty space.
"I've no clue," murmured Peter, staring up at the high ceiling. For the most part the room was bare, reminding Lucy of those huge old buildings in England – what were they called? – cathedrals. There were even little alcoves in the walls, just like the prayer niches with the statues of saints, but instead of the candle glow that always sat at the feet of those figures, these spaces were darkened. Lucy couldn't see what was inside them for the shadow.
"Maybe it's in one of those," she told Peter, pointing.
"You could be right, Lu," he said. "I suppose we'd best check each one. You take the right, give me a shout if you find something. Or if something finds you."
Unsure whether to laugh or feel frightened, Lucy nodded and headed off to the right side of the room. She pulled a torch from the wall and held it before her, squinting slightly with the smoke. Inside the first niche was nothing but cobwebs and a stone plaque with words she couldn't read. Moving on, she held the torch before her cautiously and peered into the next alcove, only to scream loudly and jump backwards, stumbling over her own feet and dropping the torch. In an instant Peter was kneeling at her side, snatching up the fallen torch and pulling her into a sitting position.
"What was it, Lu?" he asked urgently, following her terrified gaze to the niche, which had fallen again into shadow. She whimpered and pointed to it. Peter got to his feet and took a step forward, his torch lighting the way, and again Lucy saw it – the ghastly, rotting skeleton of a dwarf, dressed in moldy clothes, empty eye-holes staring blankly. Peter shuddered but did not move back. He turned back to Lucy, helping her to her feet and handing her the torch again.
"It's all right," he said. "Ed said there was a dwarf helping her, didn't he? This is probably his great great great grand-sire or something. Anyway, I don't think we'll find much else in those niches, and somehow I'm not feeling that this is the right place. What do you say?"
She nodded, trembling slightly, and accepted the hand that Peter offered her. He led the way across the room, both of them leaving their torches in an empty bracket. There were several doors to choose from, but they chose the largest one, which led to yet another hallway. This was less well-lit, but still navigable, and Lucy recognized it. She thought that she might have been there before with Aslan, and the thought that the Lion had walked the passageway made her feel a little more confident. Peter pulled open a door in the hallway, and together they stepped into the room.
It must have been an armory at some point. The walls were hung with suits of armor, shields, spears, daggers and all sorts of weaponry, tall stone racks bearing even more of the same. Peter's eyes lit up a little bit, which make Lucy chuckle, and he let go of her hand, stepping forward to admire everything. They began to move down the first row of arms. At one point Peter reached out to pull a dirk from the rack, but he seemed to think it wasn't noteworthy because a second later he replaced it. It wasn't until they were about halfway down the second row that Lucy began to feel uneasy.
"Peter," she said, tugging at his tunic. He looked down at her and she frowned. "Let's not stay here any longer, I have a bad feeling."
"Don't be silly, Lu," he said, giving her a smile. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Besides, I feel like there's something here – something magic. Maybe what we're looking for is just around the corner."
She shuddered but didn't object, letting him pull her by the hand to the third row of armaments. On this rack, there were shields of all shapes and sizes, some looking as if they'd been used the day before and others as though they'd been there for centuries. For some reason, Lucy felt even more perturbed by the shields than by anything else. Peter didn't seem to be bothered at all, though, and she mutely trailed behind him as he walked past most of them without a second glance. There was a moment when his head snapped back, a brief flash of surprise and alarm crossing his face as he looked at one perfectly circular, highly polished, silver shield, but the expression was gone so suddenly she wasn't sure if she'd really seen it.
"Oh, do let's get out of here," pleaded Lucy. One of the candles suspended from the ceiling flickered, casting odd shadows across her brother's face.
"I really would like to stay a bit longer," he said seriously. "But I suppose if it bothers you that much, we can go."
She turned back down the aisle and quickly walked back the way they'd come, not stopping to look at anything. Peter was right – she felt there was something magic in the room, too, and she didn't like it at all. Something inside her said that she probably should stay and find out if it was what they were looking for, but she was keen to be away from it as soon as possible. She was about ready to turn back onto the first aisle when she realized that Peter wasn't following her. Turning back with warnings about dawdling on her tongue, she opened her mouth to speak them but he spoke first.
"No," he said in a hoarse whisper. She couldn't see where he was, but his voice sounded choked, frightened, broken.
"Peter?" she called, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
"No, I'm sorry!" A muffled sob. Lucy took off down the aisle, rounding the corner at a run, and came face to face with a most peculiar sight. Peter was staring into the shield that had made him double-take before, a look of pure horror etched across his face. Lucy's blood froze in her veins – Peter was afraid. Peter wasn't allowed to be afraid. He could be worried, or nervous, but never afraid. Something was terribly wrong.
"Peter!" she shouted, running to him. He turned away from the shield but his face remained the same.
"It's all my fault," he said in a horrible, empty voice. "Everything is my fault."
"No, Peter, wake up, you're…you're dreaming, you're hallucinating…"
"No!" he yelled suddenly, and flinched as if he'd been hit. He dropped to his knees in a great clatter of chain-mail, back bent, hands tense upon the stone floor, shoulders shaking. "No, don't! Leave them, take me, it's my fault!"
Lucy threw herself down on the floor beside him, reaching out to grab his shoulder.
"Peter!" she cried frantically. He looked up, and it took everything she had to not look away – his blue eyes were wide open in terror, his breathing coming much too fast, his hands scrabbling frenetically on the stones as if looking for something to hold onto.
"It's all my fault," he whispered. "It all happened because of me. I don't deserve to live."
"Stop it!"
Suddenly his body went rigid, dry sobs of terror breaking painfully from his throat. His eyes were alternately open far too wide or squeezed shut, breathing in gasps, shaking violently. Lucy swallowed hard, trying to push back her own panic, leaning forward to place her trembling arms around his broad shoulders.
"Peter, calm down, it's…"
She cried out as his hand darted out, snatching the dagger from her belt. She made a grab for it but he had already pressed it into her hand, looking her in the eyes.
"Kill me," he begged.
"No!"
He moaned piteously and seized the dagger again, his hand closing resolutely over the handle, bringing the tip to his chest, just over his heart. Lucy screamed and clawed at his hand but he would not let go. She was sobbing now, tears pouring down her face as she desperately tried to stop him but he was too strong, so she did the only thing she could think of. Bodily hurling herself against her brother, she brought them both to the floor, and in the few seconds of chaos that followed she leapt up, grasped the shield he'd been looking in, and threw it across the room. It landed face-down after clattering against the wall and floor.
Peter was lying on his side, the dagger still in his hand, but when she tried to take it from him he did not try to stop her. Kneeling beside him, Lucy grabbed his hand and heaved him half-upright.
"Peter?" she asked shakily. His eyes slowly opened and he took in everything as if for the first time.
"L…Lu?" he croaked. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly, her own tears finally slowing. He peeled her off himself, holding her at arm's length and giving her a quick look. "You're alive." And there was so much relief in that, so much warmth in his cracked voice, that it was almost more frightening than what had just happened.
"Of course I am," she said worriedly. But he'd already pulled her back into the embrace. He was still shivering dramatically. She opened her mouth to ask him what had happened but suddenly, a far-off scream shattered the moment.
"Edmund!"
Lucy scrambled away from Peter, who had jumped to his feet after his exclamation, new fear blossoming on his face. He pulled her standing quickly and she just had time to grab her dagger before taking off after him.
