My heartfelt thanks to Callie Beth and Almyra for their invaluable help with this chapter. They know why.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Chapter Seven: Deepest Magic

I stepped into the council room behind Aslan and everyone rose and bowed to him. In typical Cair Paravel fashion there was no table in the room, just seats of various sorts set facing the center. Beside the rest of my family, Oreius was present, as were Tumnus, Sir Giles, Cheroom, and Sallowpad, who perched on the old Centaur's shoulder as usual. I took a low chair between Susan and Lucy and we all faced Aslan as he sat down next to Cheroom.

"We all know why we are here," Aslan said without preamble. He swept his gaze across us as he spoke. "King Edmund has fallen victim to a curse placed upon him by the White Witch. To find our way to a solution we must first have a greater understanding of the relationship between Edmund and Jadis." He turned to Edmund, his eyes gentle and understanding. "I would ask you, Son of Adam, to tell us of the first time you met the White Witch."

Edmund drew a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the floor. He didn't want to speak and I couldn't blame him for his reluctance in the least. It had been a year and he still hadn't told us the full story of his time with Jadis. I suspected that he never would, too pained and ashamed and confused by what he had been - and been part of - when we first came to Narnia. I had to give him credit, though. He spoke and he spared himself nothing, as if the pain of telling us was somehow part of his penance even though we held him to be if not blameless, at least forgiven. Lucy, closest to him, reached over and covered his hand with her own. He flashed her a brief smile, and, still not looking up, began to tell us of the first time he had stepped foot in Narnia. Some of it I knew, but not all. He certainly hadn't mentioned that the dwarf had used a whip on him, and I felt a rush of impotent fury, glad once again that Susan had shot Ginnarbrik and wishing she could have done it a week earlier. I knew that wretched Dwarf had abused Edmund horribly, and probably in more ways than Edmund even recognized.

When he mentioned Jadis's offer of food both Oreius and Tumnus started, the Centaur bringing a hoof down on the floor so loudly that almost everyone in the room jumped. Sir Giles, engulfed in a huge, overstuffed hassock, sat up abruptly. Edmund cast them a puzzled look and described how she produced a hot drink and a box of Turkish Delight by pouring a drop of liquid from a vial into the snow.

Here Aslan stirred. He and the others seemed to know more than we, but Aslan only asked, "Do you remember what the liquid smelled of?"

Edmund was quiet and still, a frown creasing his forehead as he wracked his memory. Finally he looked up. "It was...sharp and...and bitter. Almost like...vinegar."

"And you ate and drank," the Lion said. Edmund nodded, unable to look at anyone but Aslan. "What did it do to you?"

"At first I only wanted more and more. Later on I felt sick."

"Such is the nature of these things," Aslan replied, as if to himself.

Lucy piped up. "What does it all mean, Aslan?"

"It means, dear one, that this enchantment is both dark and Deep. I am familiar with the liquid Jadis used to produce the food she gave you. It is powerful magic and can only work in conjunction with one who would corrupt. One of the ingredients for its making, I do know, would have to have been Jadis's own blood."

At this Edmund let out a sound of pure disgust and horror. Given the chance I was sure he would have run to rinse out his mouth.

"I'm afraid it's true, my son. By eating and drinking at her table you have ingested her blood, and hence her great power over you. This is the Deepest Magic of them all, though I don't know if she recognized it as such. Because of this hold she was able to cast what is called a deathless spell upon you, something that strikes from beyond the doors of death."

It was Sir Giles Fox who broke the silence that followed. He let out a sigh, his whiskers and tail drooping. He seemed to know what this meant, or at least he recognized better than we did the gravity of the situation. Tumnus lowered his head to his hands, clearly distressed.

I listened with growing fear, my thoughts racing. "How?" I demanded. "How did she stab Edmund a year after her death? Why?"

Aslan faced me. "Why? For revenge against me and all of you and Narnia for thwarting her plans. As to how...a deathless spell is made to kill a person a set time after the one who has cast it has died. Usually powerful magicians use such enchantment against their enemies or upon their own servants. The manner of death is the magician's own choosing. In order for the magic to work the final casting of the spell must be accompanied by a blood sacrifice. In this case, your brother was the victim twice over. Should he survive the first attack, surely the second would kill him, coming so unexpectedly."

"And the wand?" asked Oreius.

"The wand was the channel for this magic and the means of sacrifice. Clearly she did not want for anyone to mistake who had done this to Edmund, hence the identical wound to the Battle of Beruna."

Edmund sank back in his chair. "Every bloody night?" he mumbled, using language he wouldn't have dared had Susan been in range of him. "I know she wanted to kill me, but really!"

Aslan's eyes filled with sympathy, familiar with the sensation of being mortally stabbed. "That is where this case is unique. I believe the recurrence comes back to the wand. It is a malignant thing, made by evil for evil purpose, but in the few times a deathless spell has been successfully cast, the source of the pain has never also been the source of the spell. This Deepest Magic cannot help but work, but every night since the first attack you have been restored by your sister's cordial."

Edmund's eyes grew wide as he realized what this meant. "You mean this will go on until the enchantment gets it right and I finally die of it?"

Slowly, the Lion nodded. Susan sprang to her feet. "Aslan," she cried, "there has to be a way to break the spell!"

The Lion exuded calm. "Be easy, dear children. There is a means to save your brother."

I rose and eased Susan back to take my seat so she'd be closer to her sister. Edmund looked sick. Lucy was on the verge of tears. I didn't sit down again, but stood behind Lucy's chair and held her hand.

"Though this be the Deepest Magic," Aslan continued, "written by my Father in the chaos before the first dawn, the means of countering it is at once simple and complex. Once in Narnia stood a Tree of Protection, planted in the first few days of Narnia's creation. It was grown from an apple plucked from a tree that grows far to the west of here in a garden few may enter. You know your history?" his asked us with a purr and a gleam in his eyes. We all nodded, for it was Cheroom himself that had told us the story of the Tree and we would have gotten an earful had we indicated otherwise. Besides, it was a fascinating story and one of Lucy's favorites. "Then you know the Tree in the Garden in the West is what granted Jadis immortality and power here in Narnia, though she took the fruit unbidden. To break this enchantment and free Edmund, the Tree of Protection must be restored and you, child," and he looked pointedly at my brother, "must eat one of the apples it bears. The scent of the Tree was hateful to Jadis, and I can think of no better way of driving the remnants of her power out of you."

We were silent for a time, weighing everything Aslan had said. Overall his words made sense to me and I understood now what he had meant by leaving Narnia. I glanced over at Edmund and immediately sensed his distress at the whole situation. I loosed my hand from Lucy's and leaned towards him.

"Ed," I whispered, "it's going to be all right."

"I'm so sorry," he answered miserably. I knew he was on the verge of tears, something abhorrent to him, especially in front of anyone but his family. He was the most stoic and private of us, something we had all always respected and accepted in him. That was fine since I more than made up for him when it came to emotional displays, and frankly I often envied him his self-control.

Aslan stepped over to us. He was so large that to look Edmund in the eye he almost had to recline. "Be at peace, dear child. Know that you are well loved and do not despair."

If ever you come to despair on your journey remember this moment, remember me, and that I love you.

I would have liked to escort him out of the room, but it would do the servants no good to see him so upset. Instead I knelt before Edmund and he put his arms around me in a fierce embrace, his hands clutching the fabric of my tunic in a white-knuckled grip. I held him, calmed him, and gave him a chance to restore all his defenses, knowing he'd rather vent this way than cry.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, right in my ear.

"Don't be," I whispered back in kind. "There's naught to be sorry for, Edmund."

So soft were his next words I wasn't certain he actually spoke. "I love you, Peter."

I kissed his cheek. "And I love you."

Finally he drew back, still troubled but dry-eyed. I smiled and released him, then sat down on the arm of his chair. Lucy took my hand again and I laid my free hand on Edmund's shoulder. The others were waiting in respectful silence for their kings and I was suddenly grateful to this handful of advisors. They knew and loved us best, and after hearing Edmund's tale, they understood. Aslan rose and nuzzled Edmund with his nose, purring loudly. Edmund actually smiled and almost giggled and I realized the Lion's whiskers must have tickled. It worked to lighten the somber mood in the room and Aslan returned to his original spot.

The wisest of a wise people, Cheroom the Centaur asked, "But how are we to obtain such an apple, great Aslan?"

I was surprised at the steady assurance in my voice as I said, "I'm going to go get one."