Chapter Twelve: Battle For Narnia: Part II
An equine scream of pain rose and died as Peter's unicorn collapsed beneath him. The young man dove from the saddle and rolled to his feet, sword blazing in the light of the sun. He moved faster than a snake as he engaged one opponent after another, felling them as swiftly as they charged him.
A turning point had been reached and the tide turned in favor of the enemy. Narnia's ranks began to break and flee into the surrounding foothills, where they hoped to gain some refuge and a chance to surprise their enemies. "Rhianna!" Darkmoon cried, "Protect the King! You must dismount! I will try to save as many as I can!" reluctantly, the elf jumped to the ground, drawing her sword at the same time. The mare nuzzled her hair briefly. "I love you, little one."
"And I you!" Rhianna responded. "Now go!" She spun, looking for Peter. He was being relentlessly driven back toward the hills by a huge minotaur. Rhianna was about to charge in when something plowed into her from behind, sending her sprawling face-first into the ground. Reacting instinctively, she drew her dagger and lashed out at whatever held her pinned. An ethereal scream tore from the creature's throat and it rolled off of her, writhing in pain. It was a specter – a twisted mockery of the elvish race. She glared at it with distaste, then turned to find Peter standing over his slain minotaur. His eyes widened at the sight of her, but she didn't give him the time to react any further. In an instant, she had caught his arm and pulled him to a small alcove behind some rocks. There, she sheathed her sword and bent over double, gasping for air and trying to regain some strength. Peter however, caught her by the shoulders
"You're alive! I thought – when I saw Darkmoon running riderless – I thought you'd been killed!"
"Shh!" she suddenly commanded, clamping her hand over his mouth. "I hear something." A low grunting reached their ears and came closer, seeming to sniff for them. They pressed deeper into the hollow, Peter spreading his arms over Rhianna's body protectively. An ugly, squat ogre shuffled within feet of their hiding place, his beady eyes searching for more prey. When he finally moved on, Rhianna sighed in relief and sagged against the rock. "That was close!" she whispered.
"Look out!" Peter cried, grabbing her arm and whipping her away from the rock as another minotaur landed on top of it, slicing down with his battle-axe. The force of his pull sent Rhianna slamming into his chest and they both tumbled out onto exposed terrain again. Rhianna rolled to her feet in seconds, whipping her sword out of its sheath. A large wolf with a nasty scar across his nose pounced on her from behind, slamming the breath from her lungs. By the time she'd wrestled him off and killed him, Peter was nowhere in sight and she was vaguely aware that she was bleeding in several places.
Breaking into a sprint, she rounded a corner and nearly ran into the White Witch. Reeling, she backed away, staring in horror at what stood before her. Up close, she could now see how Jadis had imitated Aslan's coloring and appearance: the golden ruff around her neck was entirely made of fur shorn from the Great Lion's mane. "You!" the Witch snarled in surprise. "I've been hunting you for years and here you fall, right into my lap!" She whirled her staff, sending Rhianna's sword skittering away, then raised her knife for the kill as the elf stood, fatigued, wounded and powerless to defend herself.
Suddenly a great war-cry echoed off the surrounding rocks. Little Edmund charged in and shattered her wand with one blow from his sword before she threw him off his feet and drove the splintered end of her wand deep into his abdomen.
"NO!" Rhianna screamed as Edmund crumpled to the ground.
The rest happened in a blur: a blonde-haired, mail-clad blur plowed through a line of ghouls and charged Jadis while at the same time, a bone-rending roar echoed across the land. There could only be one creature who could utter such a roar. As Rhianna turned to see the golden, sun-clad Lion bounding across the plain, her mind not comprehending how he could be alive, she barely registered Peter's cry of warning. The next instant, she felt a searing, white-hot pain shoot through her back. Without knowing who had stabbed her, she crumpled with the shrill whinny of a mare and the anguished cry of a boy ringing in her ears before blackness swallowed her whole.