Chapter Eighteen: Guilt

Lasa hissed savagely, shoving me away from her before darting into the murky waters. Instantly I kicked off the green-coated rock beneath my feet, struggling for the surface. I could see light above, far above it seemed, broken and shimmering by the shifting, sullied water. The pressure was tremendous, especially against my ears and lungs. I kicked my legs as hard and fast as I could, clawing and fighting my way upwards with my arms. The surface never seemed to get any closer and it felt as if my lungs would burst. Cold seeped into my limbs, leeching the heat from my body and taking strength with it. I was losing this fight.

…remember you love me…

Edmund. He was waiting, probably not too patiently. He would keep his word, I knew.

And so would I.

It became a genuine battle, me against the cold water. Fury gave me the strength I needed to keep moving upwards and I refused to lose or give in. The light above was weak, but growing brighter. Weeds floated across my vision. I reached them. Passed them. I could see clouds. I could see the sun low in the pale sky above. For all my struggles the surface seemed no closer. My lungs could not bear the strain any longer and I gagged, swallowing water. I knew it had only been minutes but it felt like an eternity in this cold prison. I kept my sights upwards, fighting on.

...think of me...

Aslan, help me.

A sudden current helped to propel me upwards. I should have broken the surface, but the water atop the lake was an unnatural texture. It was thick, like jelly, and I remembered touching it and not seeing my finger beneath the surface the day Lasa had snatched me away. Desperately, I pushed against it, my clawing hands ripping aside the strange layer of water. It oozed between my fingers as I thrust upwards, every muscle aching and desperate for oxygen as I panicked and struggled.

I burst through the top of the lake with a gasp loud and long. Panting and heaving, I gulped at the cold air, remembering how to breathe and getting my bearings. I was about a hundred feet from the nearest shore and I swam over, struggling to keep my head above the horrid surface. The water remained deep all the way to the very shore and I was utterly worn out with the effort of swimming through the enchanted barrier. It seemed to seal itself behind me as I crawled onto the land. I dragged myself out of that hateful lake and fell to the ground, panting and gagging and spitting up foul water. I was coated with the thick water and I scraped it away from my face. It seemed to melt away, leaving me drenched and shivering in the cold air. Finally I rolled over and looked about.

The surface of the lake was a mirror once again, not a single autumn leaf marred its perfection. Shuddering, I couldn't look at it any more and I turned my back on it. I had absolutely no idea of where I was. I crawled further away from the lake. The motion triggered the first wave of nausea and I vomited water and such foulness as I cannot describe. By the Lion, what had I consumed in Lasa's so-called court? I had no notion of what Lake People ate and after being sick to my stomach on and off for the better part of an hour, I had no desire to learn. All I knew was that humans couldn't survive very well on it. At least not this one.

With a groan and a hasty prayer of thanks to Aslan for helping me get out of the lake, I struggled to get up and move before exposure set in upon me. I needed dry clothes and food and a fire. I needed to find my camp and Phillip.

I hadn't made much progress - all of it noisy and clumsy as I stumbled from bush to tree to brush - when I heard the most wonderful sound: a shrill neigh. I looked around, but the sun had set while I was being sick and twilight cast odd shadows. "Phillip?" I called in a croaking voice, turning around with renewed hope. "Phillip?"

There was water in my ears distorting my hearing, but I could make out a faint sound. It seemed near and far, carried by the water and confused by my ears and disorientation. Hoof beats, then an excited shout of, "Peter!" and Phillip was there beside me, nuzzling my chest to reassure himself I was real.

Hearing my own name was like music, and I staggered forward and fell heavily against his neck. He was warm and dry and I hugged him with what little strength I had left.

"Are you harmed?" he pressed, smelling me for injuries.

"I feel sick," I said in all honesty. "And I'm very cold and hungry."

"On my back, my king. I'll step carefully."

The handful of mane I gripped was tangled and knotted, but I thought nothing more of it as I swung onto his back. I leaned far over, exhausted and miserable as he moved. I dreamed of a fire and food as he made his way 'round the lake. We traveled a little over a mile and I recognized the place with a shudder.

As I slid off his back I noticed the camp somehow seemed...wrong. Everything was in a haphazard pile under an overhang of rock a few yards up the slope from where I had set our equipment. I glanced at Phillip, but I could barely see him and so I walked up the slope and rummaged for dry clothes. I was shivering uncontrollably. Everything seemed a trifle damp, but anything was better than my dripping jerkin and tunic and leggings. I had to peel my unfortunate boots off my feet and I was surprised to see my feet and ankles were chaffed and raw from the leather. I set them aside to dry and dug out some socks. I must say that if Narnians know how to make nice clothes comfortable, they excel at socks. They were thick, warm, and soft and as I pulled them on my aching feet I felt at least a few of my problems lessen.

My hands were shaking as I pulled on an extra shirt, then I dug out my gloves and the fur-lined cloak Oreius had demanded I bring. I would have to thank the general, that cloak saved my life that night. Finally somewhat warm, I located some field rations and sat down on a log to eat. The food tasted off, but I ate anyway.

"Phillip," I asked through mouthfuls, "what happened to the camp? Why is everything moved?"

"It rained, sire. I moved what I could to protect it."

"Rained?"

"Twice."

I coughed raggedly. Finally I asked, "When did it rain?"

"The second time was six days hence."

"What?" I asked, a strange dread seizing me. I dropped the food from my hand, suddenly cold all over again as my heart raced.

"King Peter," said the Horse in a gentle, firm voice, "you have been in the lake for twenty-four days."

If I hadn't been seated I would have fallen. As it was I could only stare at Phillip's outline, horrified. "What?" I repeated. Even to my own ears my voice sounded flat and dead.

"It has been more than three weeks since you were snatched away."

Twenty-four days. Twenty-four nights. Twenty-four times Edmund was stabbed in the belly. All that time wasted, all that distance not traveled. Twenty-four days closer to winter. My family was waiting, expecting me to be gaining on the Garden every day and I had languished almost a month at the bottom of a cursed lake. Twenty-four days Phillip had been here on his own. My chest felt tight and I was having trouble breathing. I felt my face grow suddenly flushed and sweaty.

Alarmed, Phillip asked, "Majesty?"

My stomach heaved and I twisted away, vomiting again. I spit and coughed, tears in my eyes from the pain in my throat and head and belly.

"No," I finally groaned, shaking my head. "Oh, no, Phillip, that can't be! No! It can't have been more than a day! Two at the most!"

With a gentle touch he nuzzled the exposed back of my neck as I hung my head. "Peter, it is so. Look at the moon."

I reluctantly obeyed. We had left Narnia on the full moon and had arrived at this awful place exactly a month later. Looking at the night sky, I saw the moon waxing more than halfway to full. I felt sick and heartsore and utterly devastated at the nights of pain Lasa had inflicted on my brother. By Aslan, I should have known. I should have seen what was happening when I had grown so tired and thirsty that first day of Twirleaf. I should have figured it out sooner and forced her to let me go. I should have-

"Do not blame yourself, High King," Phillip interrupted my self-incrimination. I must have spoken aloud, or he knew me well enough by now to know what I would be thinking. "You were placed under a powerful enchantment. None could have fought it."

...She cast a spell upon him few would have been capable of resisting, and when he ate and drank what she offered he was hers as surely as the Spear Head points to the north...

Aslan's words about Edmund and the White Witch echoed in my mind. I've never had such exact recall and I wondered if the Lion wasn't answering my prayer. Perhaps he had known to answer it in Cair Paravel that morning before I departed. I wondered how much Aslan had said to me had depended on what could happen. I would have to rethink every conversation I'd had with the Lion since he'd arrived at the palace.

"Put aside this blame. You hold your brother faultless in his betrayal. Think you he would assign you any blame for this delay?"

He was right. Wise and steady, Phillip was right and I knew it. I felt no better for this knowledge, though, and I took long, even breaths to calm my rebellious stomach. Edmund wouldn't blame me. Not at all. He would have known he didn't have to bother since I'd blame myself enough for all of us. Poor Edmund, if this was the slightest hint of what he felt. The guilt was crippling.

I forced my head up and looked at the Horse. This was not the moment to give in to my own guilt and frustration, because no matter how I vented, I would still be exactly here when I was done. I had escaped Lasa by Aslan's grace and I could not squander the opportunity presented to me. I was a king and a knight and even with only one subject before me I had to do my best to conduct myself as befitting my rank. Even if I were alone, it would change nothing and I still had to act accordingly. Swallowing, I rallied myself and stood up to pat Phillip's neck. It was very dark, but as the moon rose higher there was enough light to see. I began to gather my things, slipping on a pair of soft shoes that laced up the front like Roman sandals before strapping on Rhindon. I hesitated a moment when I was able to tighten the sword belt two notches past where it normally hung. This was not good, but I got back to work. There was nothing I could do about it now and I had other priorities.

"I'll groom you tomorrow, Phillip," I promised, throwing the saddle blanket across his back. I followed it with his saddle and I realized I wasn't the only one who had lost some weight. My voice was tight as I continued, battling for control of the emotion gripping me. "Are you up to moving now? We have to get away from here. I can't stay here. Don't let me get off your back. If I do, bite me."

He looked surprised but said not a word and I knew he would obey so direct an order. When everything was bundled hastily onto his back and in my pack I mounted up.

"I know the way," said the Horse, setting out. "I have circled the lake a dozen times."

"I'm so sorry, Phillip," I couldn't help but say. My voice betrayed the misery I felt.

"If we had been attacked and you were wounded, would you feel such guilt?" he replied.

I had to concede the point. "Not as much."

"You were attacked, High King, and you have been wounded. Now that you are returned, we must continue. Abandon your guilt here, where it belongs."

I sniffed, trying my very best to keep the tears from flowing. For once I was almost successful.

"We will rest upriver," he said. "It is another two hours to the mouth of the river. Tomorrow you must hunt and as soon as you take game, you must eat. You weigh nothing, King Peter."

I had hoped he wouldn't notice, but I suppose carrying someone for hundreds of miles makes a Horse very aware of their weight. "The food wasn't very nice at the bottom of the lake."

"Tell me," he said, and I haltingly began to relay the strangeness that had befallen me: Lasa dragging me below, the enchantment, the strange passage of time, my struggle to remember who and what I was, her terrible lies and selfish deceit. I shuddered at the memory of the surface of the water, that gluey, viscous layer that I was forced to tear through and had almost drowned me. I knew that the sensation of the barrier would haunt for weeks to come, that and the thought of what might have happened. Oreius had always said my greatest fault was thinking too hard on what I couldn't change. It felt good to talk because it helped me understand better what had happened, though most of it was very sketchy. Phillip was duly impressed at Aslan's instructions on despair and Edmund's promise about the same.

"Praise be to the Lion and your brother," said he, and I silently agreed.

We camped a few miles upriver, just as Phillip dictated. He lay down on a patch of soft moss and I curled up beside him for warmth, drawing my cloak and blankets tightly around me. I tried not to blame myself, but as midnight edged nearer I felt tears slide down my cheeks as I thought of Edmund sitting on his bed without a tunic on, waiting for Jadis to take her revenge yet again, Aslan and my sisters sitting helplessly by.

I closed my eyes, giving in to my despair for a moment, letting it wash over and through me in order to be done. I looked up at the stars, at Culros and her many-pointed crown. I owed her thanks for helping to save me. Gradually, like the ebbing tide in the Eastern Sea, I felt my misery ease a bit, replaced by the knowledge that no matter what, I was loved and beloved by the people that mattered the most to me.

And so I slept.