Chapter the Third: Discussion
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We reached Aslan's How just after noon. The terrain was somewhat familiar now. Ed and I both had traversed this area on foot last year and we weren't all that far from Beruna and the Beavers' house. It was very rocky in this part of Narnia, unlike the smoother, rolling hills by Cair Paravel. Aslan's How was a low valley in the mountains trimmed by tall pines that grew so closely along the path we had to struggle through the branches on several occasions.
We came upon the Stone Table abruptly. A sudden opening in the trees and we stood at the foot of ancient columns, a wide, square platform, and the broken remains of a table made of granite. It wasn't a very large clearing, but something seemed to keep the Trees at bay. The ruins were clear of growth, standing alone on a small rise. Nothing about it was hospitable, at least not when the weather was foul and the wind was cold and damp. We dismounted and while some of the soldiers rested for a few moments, the rest spread out to search for signs of the rebels with the Dogs in the lead.
After fetching Phillip and Flisk some oats, Edmund turned his attention on the ruins. I hung back a moment and watched my brother as he climbed the worn steps to the broken table. I hoped Oreius would understand when I said, "Oreius, I need to speak to my brother for a moment."
The good general could read me like a book and I knew he understood immediately why I needed to speak to Edmund alone. He bowed slightly and answered, "You will have every privacy, Your Majesty. All I ask is for you and King Edmund to keep your hands near your swords, for this place is steeped in the Deep Magic."
"We will," I promised for us both. "Thank you."
He stepped away, ordering the troops back towards the tree line so that no prying or curious ears could overhear what I had to say to Edmund. I could hear Celer setting up a perimeter guard as I walked up the rise. To keep Oreius happy I rested my right hand on my sword belt. I glanced at the surrounding evergreens before I turned all my attention on Edmund, bracing myself for what must come next. He was clearly excited by the ruins, probably reminded, as I was, of the time our Uncle Robert brought us and our older cousins to see Stonehenge and Avebury. That was before the war and Ed had been very little, but I know he remembered it as he circled the shattered Table. I could see his lips moving as he tried to make out the runes etched deeply into the gray stone. He looked up as I climbed the stairs and stood close by him.
"Was it always broken?"
The dank wind whipped our hair and capes about, carrying a scent of pine and mud and rotting leaves. I pointed to the jagged breaks where cleaner, unweathered stone was visible. "No," I said, raising my voice a bit to be heard above the wind. "It broke the morning of the battle."
Edmund stared at me, the confusion in his dark eyes slowly replaced by realization. "Did Aslan break it?"
I shook my head, futilely pushing the hair out of my eyes. "I think it broke itself as part of the Deep Magic that Aslan and Jadis were talking about."
Edmund shivered and I knew it wasn't because of the cold of early spring. His voice was barely audible as he muttered, "When she came for me. For a traitor's blood."
I reached for him, cursing the Witch for the flash of dread I saw in those dark eyes. I put my hand on his shoulder, unable to grip him through his armor like I wanted. "That's over, Ed. But I do need to talk to you, to tell you exactly what happened here and why. Susan and Lucy wanted to do it, but I thought it would be better coming from me, even though I didn't see it."
Edmund looked up at me with a pout very similar to Lucy's. "This is the part I'm going to hate, isn't it?"
I couldn't help but smile a bit as a gust of wind sent our hair dancing. "Yes." I glanced around, but there was no shelter up here but the Table itself. Wrapping my cape around me, I leaned against the broken stone, gesturing Edmund to join me with a nod. I could tell he was troubled as he imitated me, sitting a little further away than I would have liked and keeping his gaze firmly locked on the ground at his feet.
"Keep your hand by your sword, too. Oreius doesn't like it here and we're close by where those Fell Beasts were spotted."
Edmund nodded, automatically resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. His voice was resigned as he asked, "So what happened?"
I took a deep breath. This was not a simple task, but I tried to word it gently. "When Aslan told us Jadis renounced your blood, he had agreed to take your place."
His head snapped up. "But she wanted to kill me!"
I lifted a hand to hush him. "The fact that there was a traitor in Narnia was enough to command a sacrifice here at the Stone Table. The Deep Magic required it. But what the Witch didn't know, and what Aslan did, was the true meaning of Sacrifice. According to Su, Aslan said if a willing victim that has committed no offense takes the place of a traitor, the Stone Table will break and death will be reversed."
As much shocked as horrified, Edmund looked up at me, pain in his dark eyes. "He let her k-k-"
He couldn't finish. I reached for him, gripping him by the elbows. "Ed, he knew what would happen. He did it not just to save you, but to save all of Narnia. So Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits in Cair Paravel enthroned. Everything that happened had to happen. It all comes back to the prophecy."
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I turned away, unable to look into Peter's eyes as I tried to come to terms with this knowledge. Peter held my arms, anxious for some type of reaction out of me, understanding and loving and completely without blame. I was glad of his touch. Fresh guilt swept over me despite the words of comfort and forgiveness Aslan had spoken to me when I had been rescued from Jadis's camp. I felt sick and filthy, as I had then. How could anyone as good and strong as Peter stand to touch me, much less be around me? How could anyone as noble and blessed as Aslan offer himself in my place? There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach, the same feeling I'd had in Jadis's castle when Mr. Tumnus realized I'd betrayed him. The feeling I'd had when I had vainly tried to save Sir Giles Fox from being turned to stone. My chest was tight and I felt frozen all the way to the core of my being.
Then something dark and thin lying discarded on the wrecked table caught my attention. I pulled one arm free of Peter's hold and reached for it. Drawing it closer, I realized it was a rope made of braided leather. There were a few hairs of long, golden-brown hair clinging to it.
We both stared at it, and when I finally found the strength to speak my voice sounded hollow to my own ears. "What did they do to him?"
Swallowing hastily, Peter mastered himself before answering. Each word was chosen with care and his voice was gentle. "He let them tie him up. The Witch ordered them to cut off his mane before they dragged him up here. And then she...used a stone knife to kill him."
"And he didn't fight?"
"No. He went willingly."
"Why?"
"To keep his family safe. Because you're part of his family and he loves you. Almost as much as I do, Ed."
I sniffed, feeling tears burn my eyes, fighting for control. I did not want to cry. I was a king. This incident was well behind me, behind us all, Narnia was safe, and I wanted to be strong before my brother the High King. Biting my lip, I raised my head to see Peter's worried expression. He was so anxious that I managed a small smile to reassure him. He let his breath out in a rush -- he'd been holding it –- and he seized me in a tight embrace, our armor connecting with a clang! I hugged him back, glad he had initiated the touch.
"I'm still so sorry," I rasped against his neck. The words weren't nearly enough to express what I really felt.
"I know," whispered Peter, sounding as if his heart was breaking, "and it's done. Just as Aslan said. Just remember it all worked out. Everything's all right, Edmund."
"I - "
I stiffened suddenly, realizing something was very wrong with our surroundings. I raised my head from Peter's shoulder and looked around suspiciously. Alarmed, Peter likewise scanned the woods surrounding the ruins. Where were the soldiers? The Dogs? Where was Oreius?
"Ed?" asked Peter quietly.
"The wind is gone," I whispered.
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I dropped my hand to my sword. Edmund was right. The wind that had been roaring all day was gone. The air seemed thicker and the sky was dark with fast-moving rain clouds. All sound was gone save for our breathing and the grit beneath our boots as we edged closer together.
Edmund's voice was faint. "It's the Trees." He slowly turned around, surveying the tree line around the ruins. "We're surrounded."
It was true. The Stone Table topped a small hill on the floor of the valley. There was a clearing about a hundred yards across at the widest point encompassing the hill. Dense, shadowed forest started just beyond the clearing. Though it was not long past noon, there was no more light than twilight and I couldn't see far into the woods. The darkness was unnatural and malevolent and I heard an echo of Lucy's voice in my memory, "He means the trees."
I drew my sword and Edmund immediately followed suit. The high-pitched peals of our weapons rang out for a moment, then the oppressive silence swept back in.
"Side to side and back to back," I ordered, quoting Oreius's constant litany on how we brothers should always do battle. Neither of us had our shields or helmets. Luckily we had been trained to fight with or without shields and Edmund was actually a better swordsman without one. "You have your dagger?"
"Yes," Edmund said softly, checking at his hip. He edged closer to me, his broadsword at the ready.
I stood straighter, looking back on the spot I had left Oreius only a few minutes ago. "Oreius? Sharet? Celer?"
My voice didn't carry and I knew no one but Edmund heard me.
The only warning I had was Edmund's gasp of, "Peter!" before the enemy was upon us.
