Chapter Thirty-Three: Hosts of the Earth and Air
"So," said my reflection, enjoying my disgust at the sight of his court, "will you save your own life and give me what I wish?"
"No."
That was all. I left him to frown and glower and deal with his volatile subjects as I considered my position. I had little cause for optimism. I had no idea of where I was, how far it was to escape this valley, and my hosts were decidedly hostile. They wanted the knife I carried to use against their enemies and would stop at nothing to get it from me. Beyond that, I was borderline terrified. These unsavory creatures would do me in without a moment's thought if they were able and the only thing keeping them at bay was a line scratched in the dirt. They were all around me, a huge crushing mass, so I had no choice but to face my fears.
...without fear, there would be no bravery, and you are far greater than your fears...
I was glad Aslan had said those words and no one else, otherwise I probably wouldn't have believed them. As it was, the Unseelie began howling and screaming at my refusal and if they had been threatening before, now they were positively berserk, making it even harder to believe I was greater than the stark dread gripping me. I stared back at their leader. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected only evil.
"What are you?" I asked.
"I am the Lord of Mists and Host of the Air. I am the Unseelie King." His eyes narrowed. "And what are you?"
"A Son of Adam."
He smirked. "Nothing more?"
"I am a knight and the High King of Narnia," I answered with pride in the title I had earned and the country that I loved.
"And hence you bear two kingly steels."
"And you wish to relieve me of one for your own ends. What would you do with such a blade, Unseelie King?"
"I would kill the new Seelie king as I killed their queen. I would command this valley by day and night."
That explained the funeral. "And you expect me to help you by handing over the Blue steel since your henchmen are too inept to steal it for you?"
"Our wars are not your concern."
"I believe you've made it my concern by kidnapping me to this place."
He clearly didn't care. "You can't stay in your circle forever."
A good point, but one I wasn't willing to concede at the moment. He hadn't encountered my streak of stubborn yet. Well, Edmund called it stubborn. I called it determination.
I think Edmund was closer to the truth.
The thought of my brother brought to mind the dream or vision I'd had of him. Edmund and Celer fighting...
For a moment I was back there in the training grounds, watching my brother spin around, bringing Shafelm down in a graceful arc, changing direction and thrusting the blade forward towards the Faun's throat. Celer smiled as he blocked and leaned back, it was an excellent move and in a real duel it would have deadly effects...
Peter...take this...
You're both facing trials that will test your wills and your hearts.
...you might need it...
...choose according to your heart and instinct.
He fought better without a shield in duels...
An epiphany of sorts struck me. Praise be to Aslan, I understood the vision. There was only one way out of this. At least, only one way I could see that might work.
I focused my attention on the Lord of Mists. "You're right," I said, surprised at the calmness of my own voice. "I can't."
"Then give me what I want before I lose all patience, High King of Narnia."
"I'll give you nothing," I snapped. For all he was identical to me, he certainly wasn't anything like me. "If you want this knife you'll have to win it from me. I challenge you to single combat, Unseelie King. If I win you'll immediately escort me out of this valley unmolested by anything in here. If you win, I'll give you the Blue steel and I'll go my way."
He roared a laugh and I knew I was in well over my head. The Unseelie crowed with delight.
"Done!" cried the king.
I held up my hand. "There must be rules agreed upon."
"Name them! I agree to all!"
I spoke slowly and with care, trying to think above the din of the circus surrounding me. "We use the weapons we're bearing now and no others means of attack or defense. Since I'm alone, there will be no seconds. This is a private duel, no one and nothing may interfere on behalf of either of us. If they do, the match is forfeit. We duel here, in this clearing, and everyone but the two of us must keep well away."
"Done!"
"Not quite. Your form is...borrowed." I wanted to say stolen, but kings didn't accuse kings of such things even if they were evil. "You'll keep this same form for the duration of our duel without change."
He glowered, unhappy with that rule but bound to agree, then demanded, "And what will determine the end? First hit? First blood?"
Did he even have blood? "Death or a plea for mercy," I replied recklessly.
"Done," he agreed with a nasty sneer that didn't suit my face at all. He wouldn't know mercy if it bit him.
I had no faith he'd keep his end of the bargain. "We'll need light."
"Back!" he shouted to the courtiers, raising his hand sharply, and the awful beings reluctantly withdrew, casting us both crafty looks. He gestured again and a ring of red-orange fire sprang up around the clearing, holding the creatures and the mist at bay. I nodded my satisfaction with the arrangement and took a few moments to study the terrain. It was a fairly level area with a few rocks and fallen branches. Pine needles lay thick upon the ground, making it spongy. I felt rather sick as I unclasped my cloak and removed my gloves, but Rhindon's shining length was reassuring as I drew my sword. There, in the midst of these hellish creatures, I dropped down to one knee with Rhindon before me.
"Aslan," I whispered, "as you love me, be with me tonight. Guard me against this wickedness that I may return to you and Narnia. Give me speed and strength and courage, Great Lion, and hold me in your loving grasp." I kissed the Lion's head as I had done the night before, my eyes tightly closed as I winged the prayer to Aslan. This was either the stupidest or the bravest thing I had ever done...
Stupidest, I heard Edmund's sarcastic and affectionate tone in my thoughts.
...but I supposed stupidity and bravery went hand-in-hand. I was living proof of that, thank you, Edmund.
I stood up and faced the Lord of Mists. "I have your binding word that you'll abide by the rules agreed upon?"
"Yes. Have I yours?"
"Yes."
He spread his hands. He hadn't even done me the courtesy of drawing his sword yet. I prayed I never looked so arrogant. "Then have at it, High King of Narnia."
I saluted with my sword, as was customary, and stepped out of the circle.
As I expected, he attacked me instantly and ruthlessly without the least regard for manners.
And I had finally found an outlet for my anger.
I kept both hands on Rhindon's pommel for now, though I was quite capable of wielding it one-handed. I blocked a swing at my middle, startled at the strength of the blow. For all he had my size and build, my copy was incredibly strong. I never stopped moving, whirling around to angle the blade towards his neck. He barely blocked it, and that only served to aggravate him.
He wielded a sword similar to Rhindon, but longer and black. It was difficult to see in the fire light, but my eyes got used to watching for his motions to allow me to counter his moves. We circled each other slowly. I cannot begin to say how strange it was to cross blades with myself. All around us the Unseelie Court roared and cheered and raged, dancing beyond the fire, urging the king on and howling for my blood. I did my best to ignore them, concentrating on attacking and defending. I spent a few moments getting used to his movements. While very strong and fast, clearly his natural form was larger than mine because I could tell some of his attacks were mistimed or he misjudged the distance of a strike. That may have been on purpose, trying to lure me in. He was adapting quickly and I needed to find a way to win.
I jumped over the black sword as he swiped at my feet, and as I did so I realized he was imitating my style. He laughed at me, mocking my efforts.
My training under Oreius and Celer and a dozen other captains and heroes of the army stood me in good stead that night. I was used to battling opponents of different sizes and with very different styles of fighting and I was used to several attackers at once. Until now I never realized how much I had learned. I surprised both myself and my royal adversary. He made the same mistake others had made before him - he judged me by my age, not my ability. It gave an advantage that I pressed as long as I could, because I was also tired and frightened and fighting something about whose nature and powers I had no knowledge.
I lunged and turned, twisting my sword arm as I whirled, sliding the point of the blade over his and towards his throat. What would it be like to slay a twin? I suspected this wouldn't be the first time he had slain an opponent wearing their guise. Was that how he killed the Seelie queen?
He gave way to my assault, getting over his surprise before attacking in turn. His movements were swift and sure and I frustrated him with my unexpected show of skill. It couldn't last forever, though, and whatever ability I had was going to inevitably be overwhelmed by his brute strength. Tired as I was, that happened far sooner than I liked to admit. At least I remembered to breathe while I fought; usually that was my undoing. My double showed no sign of tiring or slowing. He came at me without pause or rest, trying to force me on the defensive. I stubbornly - or determinedly - resisted.
I raised Rhindon over my head at an angle, stopping his overhead stroke. The black sword slid down and I swung at his neck all in the same motion. He blocked, glaring and gnashing his teeth as his court howled and screamed in twisted delight at the sport. I was far more persistent than anyone expected, and frustration on the Unseelie King's face looked pretty much like frustration on mine. I knew I was getting at him. I flicked Rhindon's tip to the side, nicking his sleeve. He staggered and gripped the spot and I realized two things: even his clothes were part of his being and he could be hurt after all.
I was ready for the first underhanded move. In truth, I had expected it sooner.
His eyes narrowed, he gesture at me much the same as he had driven his court back and lit the ring of fire around us. I darted out of his line of fire and the magic he generated struck the tree ten feet behind where I had stood. The trunk exploded into splinters and I ducked behind the relative cover of more trees. I was panting heavily, my limbs aching with effort, and I was trembling as much with fatigue as with fear.
"You agreed to use the weapons we're bearing!" I shouted.
He laughed. "I bear magic all the time, High King!"
I rolled out of the way as another blast came at me. I felt splinters of wood drive through my leather jerkin, but I had so many layers of clothes on the sharp bits of wood didn't penetrate very deeply. The trees crashed down, shattered.
Then he attacked me with his sword so hard and fast I could barely block. He had been playing with me before, learning my moves, teasing me by imitating me. He used his full strength now, smashing down on Rhindon as I held it to block. The blows were staggering and I tumbled to the ground, but I heard an odd ring from his blade. He heard it too and hesitated. That was all the opening I needed. I scrambled to my feet and immediately attacked.
Anger had been my mistake. Too much force had been his. Too much force, underestimating his enemy, and faith in a sword unworthy of a king. I swung Rhindon with all my strength and he blocked instinctively.
The black sword shattered against kingly steel. It seemed even his blade was not immune to what held sway over the denizens of this land. Like the blasted trees before it, black metal broke into shards that flew in every direction. I staggered back, feeling splinters pierce my arms and thighs. Gasping and panting, I looked at him.
The Lord of Mists still had my face, but he no longer looked like me. He was furious beyond measure, his features twisted into a conniving, resolute sneer. He was peppered with black shrapnel from his own sword and he grimaced in pain. Where there should have been blood staining his clothes from the many cuts, a greenish mist seeped out. With a wild cry he thrust his hand at me. I couldn't dodge and some unseen force snatched Rhindon from my tight hold and sent my sword flying across the clearing. It landed close to the fire. The Unseelie cheered as their king leaped across the clearing in one bound and seized me by the shoulders, bodily slamming me against a tree. He gripped my upper arms and beat me back against the trunk. I smacked my head, trying to fight him off, but he was so grossly powerful.
"None challenge me in my own lair, little fool!" he hissed. "Not you, not the Seelie! You have destroyed the symbol of my greatness! For that, I'll kill you with your own sword!"
He lifted me clear off the ground. I fought to reach the knife on my belt but he was pinning me too tightly. His eyes seemed to turn to grayish mist in his uncontrolled fury as I struggled and let out a shout of pain.
"I'll sweep down and destroy your kingdom! And I'll have two kingly steels to rule this land!"
...be brave and true throughout this ordeal, not only to each other, but to yourselves...
It wouldn't be cheating or a lie, not within the agreed-upon parameters. Not if I looked at the rules the way Edmund would have seen them. The way the Host of the Air saw them. As Oreius would have seen them...
There is not a part of you that isn't a weapon but don't ever forget your greatest weapon is your mind.
The Unseelie King smashed me down to the ground, still holding on with crushing strength. My legs almost collapsed beneath me, but I lifted my head, tossing my long hair out of my eyes with the motion as I looked at him fiercely.
"But I have something you'll never have," I hissed.
"A conscience?" mocked the Lord of Mists.
"No! A sneaky little brother!" I cried, bringing my foot smashing down on top of his with all my strength in one of Edmund's favorite moves.
His eyes bulged and he howled in pain as I followed up with a heavy kick hard against his knee that would have crippled most opponents, but only drove him back a little. I smashed his arms aside and twisted free to gain the distance I needed. I snatched the dagger out of its sheath and loosened my worn sword belt. Laying hold of Rhindon's sheath, I yanked the belt off and whipped him across the face with the heavy steel buckle. The Unseelie fell back, clutching his misty eyes, staggering from the kick to the knee, for in this form he was vulnerable to physical pain. He screamed and raged at me, swinging wildly and sending blasts of magical power every which way. Unchecked by trees or fire, they decimated the Unseelie Court. Now the screams were of fury and pain and grief as his attacks landed on his own people. I darted back and away, gasping for air. My breathing betrayed me and I couldn't lose him, but I lead him on a crazy chase around the clearing, around the trees felled and standing, until I was closer to Rhindon. I threw the belt and sheath into the thickest patch of bushes. He turned towards the sound and I dove for my sword. The familiar weight in my hand was as welcome as an old friend. Too late he realized his mistake and whirled just as I leaped forward and ran him through with Rhindon.
Nothing happened.
I stood there with my weapon buried in his ribs and he just laughed. Laughed, and slowly began to dissolve into fog.
For a moment I was horrified, staring at him in shock. He swung, back fisting me so hard I staggered back and collapsed, my head ringing.
The laugh turned to an insane cackle and his face - my face - began to stretch and distort as the Unseelie King broke his solemn vow and started to revert back to his true form. He yanked Rhindon out of his chest with an eerie laugh and a swirl of mist instead of blood.
I did the only thing I could think of doing: I gave him the kingly Blue steel he wanted so badly. We lunged at each other, only I ducked low, recklessly knocking his sword arm upwards as best I could. I felt a burning in my shoulder as my own sword sliced into me. I drove my keen blade all the way to the hilt just above his belt, thrusting the knife home with all the strength I had left before he abandoned my shape entirely. Pure Blue steel. Deadly to his enemies, but equally fatal to him as well. Was it the pure metal or the love that had gone into its making that brought about his end?
An almighty, shattering shriek echoed off the mountains and climbed up to heaven. The sound was so loud it seemed to pass right through me, a shocking, jarring strike that pummeled me harder than any blow he had landed. I stumbled back, looking up as he turned to a sickly, gray-green cloud of mist. The hazy form reached tendrils out at me, their touch freezing and painful and tight, but I had nonetheless dealt the evil king a deadly blow. Even as the mist tried to do me harm, it began to fade. Screams rose from the mass and in a last desperate act of revenge it swept down upon me, enveloping me, my own distorted face lunging at me and howling in my voice. I tried to move, tried to evade, but I was too tired and clumsy and the Unseelie King was too horrifying. His real form was so cold it sucked the warmth out of me. I couldn't breath. The air was fouled as though with smoke. I reached out, fighting against it, but there was nothing to grasp as the tendrils wrapped around my throat, choking tight. I dropped to my knees, my vision blackening as the Host of the Air robbed me of the thing I needed most: my breath. The ring of fire vanished. I saw was the Unseelie Court racing towards me, ready to tear me limb from limb when the sweet sound of horns snatched their attention away. Something came streaming through the forest from all sides, attacking them. Screams of fury turned to shouts of fear and panic and the Unseelie Court wheeled to face their ambushers.
I saw songbirds and bats and mice and foxes carrying riders. Size made no difference in this fight since the weapon of choice was magic.
It was the Host of the Earth, the Seelie Court, come to avenge their fallen queen.
I hit the ground, freezing cold and with consciousness choked out of me. My last thought was I hoped they remembered to avenge this fallen king as well.