Peter

I instinctively tightened my legs as Flisk covered the distance between us and the Ogres. He had to slow himself to keep pace with the rest of the army. Beside us, Phillip galloped along at an even speed, keeping a sword's length away, his reins loose, my brother set and determined upon his back. This was only the second time Edmund had ridden into battle like this and I knew he was as frightened as he was eager.

The two forces crashed together, the front rank slicing a huge swath through the Ogres. Flisk plunged and reared, his sharp hooves horn doing as much damage as I did with my sword and shield. I glanced at Edmund. Phillip was steady beneath him and I trusted the Horse to guard my brother even as I trusted Flisk to guard me. There were Ogres everywhere and of all sizes. They howled in high-pitched voices as they swarmed across the battlefield and tried to penetrate our lines. I hacked and slashed at them with Rhindon without hesitation, knowing what atrocities the Ogres would carry out in Narnia, given an opportunity.

I paused at a break in the fighting. Something had set off Methalain. He was raving and beating his own troops, waving a club that was about the same size as Lucy as he screamed at them. Still behind his own lines opposite me and Edmund, he suddenly looked my way with a sneer. This, I knew, could not be good. I directed Flisk over to Edmund and helped him kill off an Ogre harrying Phillip.

"Look," I ordered, smashing a small Ogre in the bumpy head with my shield before it could touch the Unicorn beneath me. I pointed with my sword.

Edmund blinked to see the Ogre king in a frenzy. We were busy for a few moments, fighting off some Ogres with spears. Three Centaurs of the royal guard came to our aid, skewering the brutes with their longer lances.

"Aslan help us. We need to kill him quickly," Edmund said, sizing up Methalain's bulk. His eyes were wide in astonishment.

"Couldn't agree more," I replied, resisting an I-told-you-so. "Any suggestions?"

"Chop his head off!"

I slashed at an Ogre running at me with a club. "He has no neck!"

"Oh. Blast."

We had no further chance to talk. Methalain plunged into the fight, trampling the Ogres in his way as he entered the field with a vengeance. The Ogres rallied and Oreius, off to the left, gave a shout to reform the lines. Celer and Taval took up the cry and our army fell back a bit to form up again in a tight line before me and Ed. We were in the middle of the rocky plain, our archers still on the two highest outcroppings and the Gryphons and Birds still wheeling above, picking off Ogres on the fringes. Still, Methalain waded towards us, brandishing his club wildly. Either he was close enough or he was big enough, but I could clearly see his beady purple eyes and his gaping mouth filled with rows of serrated teeth. He was repulsive.

Oreius hissed a command and the Centaurs and Satyrs in the two front ranks prepared for a charge. The Ogres had finally figured to get out of Methalain's path and they parted before him, leaving him clear access to our line. He was running now, a strange, ungainly gait. The ground shook with each step and he covered yards with every stride until he was almost at our line.

Then something completely unexpected happened: Methalain leaped into the air. The jump carried him over the lines, knocking spears back and aside as he cleared most of our line. He landed so heavily, right in front of Flisk and Phillip, that the ground shook and both Horses tried to scramble out of the way. He swung his club and Edmund dove or fell off of Phillip, landing heavily in the grass. Methalain never hesitated, but pivoted around, his long tail sweeping the rear lines of Fauns and Satyrs and Animals. The soldiers were thrown around like toys, some of them crushed. I heard Oreius shouting as the Ogres attacked on three sides.

"Help them!" I ordered the Unicorn and slid off his back. I had a better chance on foot right now. What a rotten way to turn seventeen, I thought as I made sure Flisk was well on his way.

Methalain roared and arched his club overhead. I darted to the side as it shattered the rock where I had stood.

"Cursed maggot!" Methalain growled.

I didn't answer, but looked for a way to get closer and strike. He was easily four times my size, not very fast but ridiculously strong. I was afraid, but at the same time I had confidence from my training and experience. Fighting Jadis will forever be the yardstick by which I measure fear in battle and Methalain was not in her class.

He swung again, burying the club in the sod. I stabbed at his arm, slicing it open. Hot, black blood spurted out. He gasped in pain and fury and I saw exactly what I needed to do: keep him angry. I darted back, out of range of his overlong arms and that huge club.

"Your best is not impressive, Methalain," I snapped above the almighty din of battle, never standing still for an instant. "End this now!"

He swept the club at my head. I ducked, then darted in at him, aiming Rhindon at his legs. He tried to get away and tripped, staggering a step. I gave chase. He twisted and fell to his knee and in that instant I swung at his foot, slashing through thick layers of skin and cutting his foot open to the bone.

I had wanted him mad, but I may have overdone it.

He whirled, furious. His tiny eyes were livid and he let out a roar that made my ears ring as he surged to his feet to face me. He hadn't really slowed down, though he favored his injured foot, each step leaving a black smear on the grass.

Off to my right, Edmund suddenly let out a cry of, "Targets! Fire!" and the archers let loose on the Ogres still advancing. Methalain glanced over at my brother as screams erupted anew, and then he seemed to realize the truth.

It was hopeless and he was beaten. He had been beaten even before we started. The moment he left the Mirror Mountains far to the northwest, he had lost this abortive attempt at war.

But he had not lost yet.

"Stop your army now, Methalain," I offered, still moving, still avoiding that club and his claws. "Order them to cease fighting and lay down their weapons. I swear by Aslan that I will allow you to depart in peace. Return to your kingdom and fight us no more."

The ugly brute laughed at me, amused that anything so small should threaten him or offer terms, it seemed, and too stupid to seize this opportunity. He licked his chops with his long purple tongue. "We will take your land. Your subjects will be slain for sport and we will take your riches as we cast down your kingdom, little king. You will be saved for last, after I have eaten all your kin myself and sucked on their bones."

"You can't win," I insisted, ignoring his revolting words and that purple tongue.

He laughed. "If I kill you, I won't lose, either."

I shook my head. It was like arguing with a rock. Methalain was moving slower. I knew he was trying to lure me closer and I didn't fall for it, which just added to his temper. I was like a wasp stinging an elephant.

He suddenly seemed to come to a decision because his eyes narrowed and his mouth turned up in a vicious, cunning smile. I found out soon enough what pleased him so - he leaped up in the air as he had done before and tried to land on me.

I dove aside and rolled out of the way. Methalain laughed in twisted delight, jumping at me again. I threw myself back, smacking into the steep wall of stone behind me. He thought I was trapped and perhaps I was, but that certainly wouldn't stop or slow me and he was a fool to believe otherwise.

He leaped again, not quite atop me but close enough that his bulk impacted on my shield and I felt something in my arm and shoulder give. Turning to the left, I let go my shield so that I could thrust my sword forward and up, sliding Rhindon between the plates of his crude armor. Beneath the armor the blade met no resistance of mail or bone and I buried it almost to the hilt in his belly.

"This is all of Narnia you'll ever get!" I hissed.

He roared in agony, thrashing and squirming away from me and I lost my grip on the sword. I was too close and tried to move away, ducking under his wildly swung club and then jumping over his tail. He whirled, flailing desperately. His bulky iron crown slipped down his face and he seized upon it in fury, whipping it at me. I threw myself to the ground and it shattered against the rock at my back. Iron shards and bits of rock exploded behind me. My helm was knocked off, but the mail and armor protected me from the worst of the shrapnel. I scrambled back to my feet.

And then his huge hand caught me from behind.

Three fingers wrapped around my body, crushing my armor into me so hard I screamed. Methalain laughed, delighting in this final act of vengeance as he slammed me into the ground. My right leg broke beneath me with a horrible crunching sound and I screamed again. I could taste blood and my vision was going dark. He shook me, and agony arched through every inch of my body before he tossed me off to the side as easily as I'd throw away an apple core.