Chapter the Fourth: Battle

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Hideous forms large and small erupted out of the surrounding woods: Ogres, a Cyclops, fallen Animals, things I'm sure neither of us could name. There were a dozen or more, one a foul, bat-like thing that screamed with a human voice as it flapped awkwardly. They swept out of the shadows from all sides. There was no time to think or plan before the faster beasts reached the platform.

"For Narnia!" screamed Peter, slicing through the thick hide of a Werewolf that was scrambling upwards towards him. It fell back with a shriek.

"Aslan!" I shouted. Three little grass-colored things that barely reached my knees came at me. They wielded nasty, curved blades and looked capable of considerable damage. I didn't hesitate, but cut them down before they could get close enough to me or Peter to use those blades. Another sprang up after them and I sliced it in two.

Peter grunted loudly as he dispatched a Dwarf, then immediately attacked an Ogre wielding an axe. I whirled, bringing my sword down on a Coyote that had snuck across the table towards my brother. The Coyote called me something truly vile. Much as we all hated killing, especially Talking Animals, I didn't waver. I didn't dare. Killing was not easy. It never was, but it was necessary. I hadn't gotten used to it and I hoped and prayed I never did. Still, every battle came down to us or them, just as it had at Beruna. This Coyote not one of our subjects, our beloved cousins. This creature had tried to give Narnia over to the White Witch and was therefore our enemy. My enemy.

And now she was dead.

Peter's Ogre fell back, bleeding greenish blood and cursing kings in general and High Kings in particular before it collapsed. A Cyclops took its place, but Peter was already engaging the bat creature and I lunged forward to cover his back, driving my sword under the Cyclops's iron collar and into his throat. My much smaller size was the only thing that allowed me to get close enough to strike. I jumped out of the way as it fell towards me. Another of the little grass-creatures leaped at me and landed on my arm. It tried to slice me open but was instantly frustrated by my Dwarf-made mail. I let go my sword with one hand just long enough to punch it away. My armored right glove came back bloody.

I looked to Peter. My brother had the screaming bat by the throat, holding it at arm's length just long enough to plunge his sword through the horrid thing's body. He pulled his sword free with a cry of disgust. His face was scratched and bloody. He looked around wildly, searching for me. We were too far apart.

"Edmund!"

He was looking beyond me in horror, his eyes wide. I whirled, swinging my sword blindly in the same motion. I felt the blade connect before I saw the Cougar and a terrific blow landed on my right shoulder. In an instant I felt claws work their way through the tabard and chain mail and leather jerkin and quilted clothes all the way to my skin as the big Cat swiped at me. His claws became entangled in my mail shirt for an instant, locking us together.

"Traitor!" the Cat growled at me, trying to pull me towards his huge teeth. He was scrawny and his breath was foul. "Betrayer!"

"Not anymore!" I screamed right back. We were too close for me to use my sword, so I struck him across the face with my elbow. He howled in pain as metal met flesh and I just hit him again as hard as I could. I barely felt any pain in my shoulder or arm as he shook free and darted away, bowling me over and leaving me with scratch marks to rival Peter's.

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Move, move, move! Never stop, my kings. Don't give them a still target! Make them come to you. Don't forget to breathe, King Peter, else you'll finish their task for them. You're Human. You move and fight differently from anything else in Narnia be it fair or foul. Use that to your advantage. Keep them off balance. King Edmund, you're small and slight - get inside his defenses! You can use your sword and he can't! There is not a part of you that isn't a weapon but don't ever forget your greatest weapon is your mind. Stay in control when you fight. You can't stop because of any pain or hurt. Stopping in the midst of battle is death! Move! And above all, Your Majesties, keep close to your brother, for each of you is the other's shield.

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Never in life had I been more grateful to a relentless schoolmaster than I was to Oreius. His constant litany was rooted firmly in my subconscious as I fought. At times it seemed as though I was watching myself, so automatic were my actions. The exertion of battle was starting to catch up with me and I made every swing of my blade count. I mortally wounded another Ogre and cut down a Hag before she could pounce on Edmund. A small Dog lunged at me and I let him bite my left arm knowing he wouldn't be able to hurt me through the mail. That brought him close enough for me to use my sword and with a whimper of pain he let go and dropped down. I kicked it away from me, angry and revolted that a Talking Animal would turn on its own land, on Aslan.

And that it would delay me trying to help my brother.

I jumped over the fallen bodies littering the platform and yanked Edmund upright, dragging him with me down the stairs, away from the Stone Table, away from that huge mountain lion. It was more open here and we needed room to fight. Jadis' soldiers weren't well trained for the most part, depending on brute strength and hulking mass rather than any real skill. Still, it was enough, especially since there was just the two of us. There was no sign of our war party, though the Trees were whipping back and forth without any wind. It seemed as if our soldiers were fighting a similar battle.

"You alright?" I panted, looking around furiously.

He answered in gasps. "Scrapes. You?"

"Same," I replied, though my face was burning from where that bat-looking thing had tried to gouge my eyes out and I had taken a staggering blow to the thigh from a Dwarf wielding a club. "To the left," I warned, spotting a Minotaur.

"And to the right," Edmund replied. He drew a deep breath and I did the same as we let lose our battle cries.

"Narnia!"

I had never fought such a battle as this, so fast and thick. Even at Beruna there had been pauses, time to catch my breath. The second rank of Fell Beasts set upon us like a tidal wave. As Edmund faced off against a reptilian, snake-like thing, the Minotaur crashed into me with so much force I went down, hitting my head, but I rolled out of the way and onto my feet as his battleaxe shattered the rock where I had been. I slew him from behind before he could reach Edmund, yanking my sword free of his body with so much force I actually smashed the pommel into the face of a Dwarf running up from behind me, dropping him in his tracks. A mangy, rabid-looking Fisher took his place. Beyond it, Edmund whirled, looking for the next attacker and spotting the huge marten.

"Die, upstart!" it hissed at me, swiping its clawed forefoot.

"Not today," I hissed right back. I raised my sword high as if to strike him down. The Fisher lunged to the left, his eyes on my sword, entirely missing Edmund as my brother yanked his dagger free from his belt and imbedded it deeply into the Fisher's body. I killed the Fallen Animal an instant later, feeling sick at having to do so.

"Thanks," I said, stomping on a little creature armed with curved blades that was about to attack Edmund's knee as he retrieved his knife. My metal-shod boots made short work of it. Edmund stood up again and we automatically took fighting stances. We were back to back and the creatures attacking us were now few in numbers. Few, but foul. Exceedingly so. They were short, misshapen mockeries of Nature, like leftover bits and pieces of animals and people cobbled and blended together. I had no idea of what they were or if their kind even had a name. Awful as they were to look upon, they were obscenely strong. If Jadis had more of these in her army, things may have gone differently at Beruna. There were three of them, all armed with iron staves. How do I describe creatures so alien, so strange? Their movements were graceful, their ability to wield the staves was considerable, and something told me they enjoyed inflicting fear and pain. They were as revolting as they were unnatural.

"Whatever you do, Ed, don't let them get between us," I ordered, glancing over my shoulder at him. He swallowed and nodded as the things surrounded us. Only one of them placed himself before me. The other two confronted Edmund.

"They think you're the easier target," I murmured, leaning back a bit so he could feel my presence. "Prove them wrong."

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Oh, Peter, how did you know? How did you always know how to say exactly what I need to hear? At Beruna, the morning we were told Aslan was no more, you were finalizing the battle plans and looked right at me and said, "Edmund, I need you. I need you to protect our rear and cover our retreat." That was all, and I was yours to command. I realized then why such a statement was so different coming from you than anyone else: you had faith in me. Absolute, unwavering faith that regardless of what the world thought about me, I could do what you asked and you trusted me to do what was right.

Like right now.

I am a King of Narnia. King Edmund the Just, brother of High King Peter the Magnificent.

And this day, in my own eyes, I have earned the right to sit beside him in the Castle of the Four Thrones.

The ugly, melted monsters drew slowly closer, stepping over the bodies and weapons of the fallen. They made low, gurgling sounds I could only guess was laughter. They were trying to frighten us. No matter.

I smiled fiercely back at them.

So unexpected was that move that the one on the left hesitated an instant.

I didn't.

Aslan bless my little sister a thousand times over for teaching me how to throw a dagger. I wasn't as good as Lucy, but that didn't matter. I didn't kill the monster on the left, but it staggered when my thrown knife drove through its forearm. I straightaway attacked to the right and Peter went with me, his sword singing shrilly as he smashed aside the brute's iron staff and yanked it away from its owner. Faced by us both, the creature didn't last long enough to resist and even before it hit the ground we set upon the one that had confronted Peter. It spun the stave before itself, effectively blocking our swords as it waited for its fellow to recover from my initial assault. Peter would have none of that and thrust his sword into the sod, rushing our enemy with the stolen staff. He blocked the twirling rod and in one scooping motion forced both staves to the ground. The thing didn't have the sense to let go and Peter was close enough to land a terrific kick to the head, knocking it down long enough for me to finish it off. Never stopping, Peter threw down the staff and ran for his sword, yanking it free of the earth as we turned the tides on the last of Jadis's army. The Fell Beast knew it had no chance and looked about wildly for an escape route.

"Mercy!" it begged in a gravelly voice, dropping to its knees.

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I frowned, disgusted and afraid of what this creature might say to Edmund, what memories or guilt it might kindle. My brother had fought splendidly and I could tell that despite the horrible battle we had just fought, a sea change had come upon him. I did not want that lost. He had been lost for far too long.

Before I could draw breath to speak, Edmund demanded hoarsely, "How much mercy would you and yours have shown us? How much have you shown our land?"

"I am but a slave! I obey my queen!"

"Your queen is dead," snapped Edmund. "Aslan killed her!"

"You served her!" accused the creature, and I mentally kicked myself for allowing a single word to be exchanged.

"To my regret," responded Edmund, panting heavily. His face, his voice, were grave and determined. "I've paid a price, slave. Far greater than you can imagine."

I shuffled closer to it. We had to end this quickly. Now. What if it was stalling us, waiting for reinforcements?

"Ed," I said warningly, drawing my dagger with my left hand. He nodded, understanding.

"Mercy," he said to the sniveling thing before him, deliberately keeping its attention focused on himself, "is for those who would give it. You only speak out of fear of death." He shook his head, every inch King Edmund the Just. "You'll be given the mercy you deserve, the same as you would have given us."

With a savage howl it surged upwards at Edmund and I swung my sword with all my strength. The blade slashed through the creature's leather jerkin and thick skin on its side and back, but that didn't stop its lunge towards my brother. I used my momentum to spin completely around, bringing my left arm across my body. I buried my dagger to the hilt at the base of its neck before sweeping my sword in a backhanded motion that Oreius would have despaired over for a complete lack of form or grace. Nevertheless, it did the trick, and the nameless creature was struck down by my hand.

I stumbled to a halt, almost tripping over the body of the thing I had just slain. I looked around, but Edmund and I were the only ones still standing. My entire body ached and I thought I would never again catch my breath. Nausea slammed down on me as I bent to retrieve my dagger, but I swallowed at the bile in my throat and forced myself to straighten. There was no time for physical reactions, not yet. They were a luxury we could only afford when we were safe again. Edmund searched the ground a bit and found his own dagger as well. Then we stood together, swords ready, as we surveyed the bloody scene before us. Nothing stirred. Even the Trees were still. Rising steam marked where the fallen lay.

"Oreius?" I called, though my throat was so raw I could barely raise my voice. "Celer? Flisk?"

All was dark and stagnant, the air still thick, the surrounding forest deep and threatening. A residue of evil deeds hung over this place. I had no way of gauging how long we had been fighting or even if the fight was over. I saw the point of my sword shake as I trembled. I couldn't recall any time I felt so exhausted in my life. I couldn't even begin to think on how Ed and I had just killed so many beings. Edmund was even worse off than I was, barely able to hold his sword up despite his best efforts. I glanced behind me and was surprised to see we were at the base of the broken steps leading to the remains of the Stone Table. I didn't remember being driven back.