Lucy

How could Peter and Edmund wear chain mail and armor all day, much less fight while wearing it? It was remarkable how heavy it became and I was glad it wasn't a sunny day or I knew I would have been baked. I had Peter's first suit of armor on, the one he wore during the Battle of Beruna, and while I was almost as tall as he was then I wasn't nearly as broad and the mail shirt hung loosely. The Dwarf armorers offered to fit it to me better, but I declined. Not only was it Peter's armor, made at Aslan's order, but he had won a smashing victory that day and I didn't want to risk tempting luck by altering it. That was part of the reason I chose to wear this suit instead of Edmund's old mail, which fits me much better. I knew the Dwarves would have happily made me my own suit just they had for Susan, but I wanted part of my brothers with me there that day and so I was perfectly happy wearing their hand-me-downs and a tight belt. On my head was Edmund's old helmet and on my hip hung his first sword, now too short for him but just right for me. This sword, Shafelm, had smashed Jadis's wand and helped us win at Beruna, freeing Narnia. Since then Edmund had simply named every sword he carried Shafelm, and if my count is correct he's working on the third one. I just hoped I wouldn't be put in a position where I'd actually have to draw it since I had been learning swordsmanship for only a month. My skills were nothing to brag about and most likely never would be. Edmund had insisted that if I wanted to carry his sword, though, I had better learn to use it properly and let me know in no uncertain terms the degree of care I was to take with it. One would have thought it was his first born.

The camp had been set up two days ago by the only steady source of clean water we had found for miles. I had not seen the battlefield, but I knew it was distant and not the place my brothers would have chosen for a fight, given their druthers. Susan was with them and part of me longed to be there with them.

I had waited here at the rear all day, helping the Centaur and Nymph healers treat the wounded as they trickled in and tending to the very worst of them myself. My cordial was precious and reserved only for the most serious wounds. So far today, the healers had asked me twelve times to help them. Each warrior that was restored was anxious to return to the battle, well aware of what was at stake and desperate to defend their fellow soldiers and kings.

I looked up as a Cheetah came running full-tilt towards the encampment and I recognized Bal, one of Peter's pages. He never slowed until he was almost upon the camp, and with a growl he cried, "Queen Lucy!"

"Here, Bal!" I called back, raising an arm so he could spot me. I ran towards him as fast as the armor would let me and he met me moments later. He was panting heavily.

"My queen, the High King has fallen and King Edmund has taken command of the army. General Oreius is bringing King Peter back to camp now. Your brother is gravely injured. The general asks that you ride to meet him-"

"Captain Talene!" I instantly shouted to the first officer I spotted. The Centaur immediately moved towards us through the crush of soldiers and Animals. "A Horse! Immediately!"

"No time!" Bal insisted. "Talene, take her! High King Peter has no time!"

I have never ridden a Centaur before, nor do I know of anyone that has save for my brothers. Later on, after the battle, I wished I could remember more of it. Everything happened so very quickly that looking back, it was all a blur. Talene scooped me up in one fluid motion and set me on his broad back, shouting for several other Centaurs and Bulls and Dogs to follow and protect me. I barely managed to clasp my hands onto the belt around his torso before he set off after Bal.

I didn't know how far Talene ran before we met with Wills, the youngest of the Ravenwolf brothers running our way. Immediately the wolf took over for Bal, who fell behind in exhaustion, leading us through the plain. The Great Northern Range, which includes the Mirror Mountains, starts - or ends - in this place and there were outcroppings of gray stone everywhere, jutting up through the dull yellow grass. It was an awful, clammy, and unhappy place and I was glad it wasn't part of Narnia.

We met the next wolves, Kevin and Keefang, further on and they took over the lead. Going in relays, the brothers lead us towards the battlefield until I saw Arthur, the eldest of Mrs. Ravenwolf's sons, waiting for us beside an Elk. They both turned and darted away, guiding us to Peter. I was frightened beyond words for my brother. He had a habit of being too brave for his own good and this was not the first time he had been badly wounded. I wasn't in the least surprised, though. Peter would never ask another to do what he wasn't willing to do himself, be it sampling a new concoction from the kitchens or leading our army against creatures as awful as Ogres.

When we finally reached Oreius I fell off Talene rather than dismounted, but I didn't care. I just stumbled upright and ran for the center of the defensive ring of Centaurs and Elks. I gasped when I saw Peter. He looked even worse than Edmund had at Beruna: colorless and pinched, his breathing ragged and painful to hear, his body grossly twisted. Was I here in time?

"Quickly!" Oreius said, closer to panic than I had ever seen him or ever wanted to see him. His whole front was covered with blood and I realized that it was Peter's. I fell to the ground beside them, Edmund's sword tripping me up. Fumbling for the cordial at my waist, I opened the stopper with trembling hands. I was tempted to pour more than a drop down his throat, but I didn't. One drop of the precious liquid was all I needed and I took a deep breath to steady myself as I administered the cordial. A single bead fell into Peter's mouth and I returned the bottle to its pouch on my waist. Then I sat back, waiting and watching and praying to Aslan for it to save him.