Chapter Thirty-Eight: Home is the Hunter

"King Peter? Arise, good king, your country awaits!"

Appealing as it sounded, I still wasn't equal to the task and I cracked my eyes open to see a pretty willow Dryad smiling at me cheerfully. She carried a bowl of water and I realized I was terribly thirsty. I glanced around the camp as I sat up and took the bowl. There seemed to be considerably more people here than had been last night. They must have traveled through the darkness to reach me. I drank the water and I realized it was from Narnia, for even after a night in a waterskin it still tasted better than anything I had drunk in months. I downed every drop and immediately regretted it as nausea slammed hard upon me like a blow. I handed back the bowl and twisted away, trying hard not to be sick. I wasn't successful and the pain of my cracked ribs almost sent me out cold.

I felt a small hand on my back as I knelt there quietly spitting up what I had drunk. A Dwarf, probably one of the army's healers, stood beside me. He rubbed soothing circles on my back, speaking comforting words and supporting me. Finally the spasm eased. I smiled faintly at the guilt-ridden Willow, saying hoarsely, "It's all right. No harm done."

She didn't seem convinced, but bowed and hurried off. With a damp cloth the Dwarf wiped my face and neck, then pressed a cup of herbal tea on me. It tasted awful, but immediately it calmed my stomach and I gladly finished the warm drink. "Please," I said to the Dwarf, a bright-eyed, bright-haired Red Dwarf, "tell her it's all right. I shouldn't have drunk so much."

He smiled reassuringly. "I will, sire. She's young and those Willows have thin bark."

He helped me to dress in another layer of clothes borrowed from someone in the army. The red tunic and leggings were too large, but clean and warm. I struggled upright with the Dwarf's help and all activity in the camp stopped. Turning to face me, every Narnian bowed deeply. I stared, startled. Not that their conduct was anything out of the ordinary, but it seemed an eternity since I had felt the love they bore for me and my siblings.

"Thank you," I said, though my voice was little better than a whisper. "I thank you all for coming so far to help me. I -"

I wavered, my legs buckling, but before I could hit the ground (dragging the good Dwarf with me) Oreius scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing. Perhaps at this point I didn't.

"Rest easy. I will carry you for now, my king," he promised, motioning to one of the attendants. Moments later I was wrapped in a warm cloak and cradled in the Centaur's arms. I slept then, able to fight the fever and darkness no longer.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke in Narnia.

Just over the border, right at the base of Caldron Pool, I roused long enough to register that I was home and in the tiny encampment that Oreius had established for when I returned. For the first time in months I had a roof over my head even if it was just made of fabric. They tried to get me to eat again, but I could manage only a little bit. I could tell Oreius was distressed and I was sorry for it, but the thought of food only made me feel sicker. The fever still gripped me and I dozed, wandering in and out of awareness. My arm started to ache again and my throat and ears felt afire.

"Aslan is at the Lantern Waste," I heard a voice say through the hazy veil of stupor. It sounded like Celer. "He said he would wait there."

Aslan? I felt my heart thrill and the sound of the name filled me with hope, if only for a few moments. Some little time later I roused, dragging myself upright. By the time the alarmed Dwarf healer noticed, I had swung my legs over the edge of the cot and sat up, holding the bandages on my smarting ribs with my left hand.

"Majesty, you mustn't move yet," he insisted. "You're feverish and weak."

And what was Edmund? The dreams were haunting me. I motioned for the Dwarf to decist. "Get my boots and my sword." Rhindon, its sheath repaired, hung on the tent pole just out of reach.

"Sire!" he protested.

"Now," I ordered. "I'm going to the Lantern Waste."

Moments later Oreius stepped into the tent, filling it with his presence as I struggled to stand. He took one look at me and simply asked, "King Peter?"

"I'm going to Aslan."

He knew me, he knew my tone of voice, and he knew when not to argue. His eyes grew wide and he ignored the gesturing Dwarf. "I'll prepare Phillip and an escort."

As he hurried off I looked back at the frustrated healer. "My boots, good Dwarf, and my sword."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Normally the ride between Caldron Pool and the Lantern Waste was a matter of two or three hours at a liesurely pace. That day, riding Phillip in a fevered stupor, it took me twice that.

Oreius walked right beside me. More than once his strong hand and arm were the only things that kept me from toppling over. On the other side strode Celer, the Faun captain that had helped lead the army at Beruna. They talked quietly to Phillip, but I paid them no heed. They chose the path since I was completely incapable of doing anything for myself. It took everything I had left to simply stay seated on Phillip. The good Horse walked slowly, picking the smoothest, most level course he could. Twice we reached steep inclines that I'd normally dismount and climb down myself. Both times Oreius simply plucked me off of Phillip's back and carried me down, gently setting me back where he'd found me at the bottom. I was so grateful he understood that I needed to do this regardless of the cost.

Autumn was well upon Narnia and winter was nipping at our heels. The Trees were long past their height of color, the glorious autumn foliage in which they took such pride as each Dryad tried to outdo their neighbor. I didn't care. I was still struck by the immense beauty of my country. The wind was cool and carried the scent of old leaves and balsam pine and even though it made me shiver uncontrollably and hurt my ears, I breathed deeply, savoring the scent of the season. For a little while we followed the river, then angled inland. I noticed immediately the lack of noise, so used was I to to the sound of rushing water. The river had been my companion as surely as Phillip for months and I looked back one last time to bid it goodbye for a time.

How I made it to the Lantern Waste I cannot say, so dazed was I with fever and pain and hunger. I didn't find out until much later how long it took for the band of soldiers to escort me there and I knew I would never have made it without them. It seemed at once mere minutes and an eternity, like when Rhye said we could fly around the Garden in moments or take a lifetime to fly over it. Our route brought us back to the Great River, but in this part of Narnia it was gentle and calm and quiet with lush banks and tall trees, a delight to the senses. An encampment was set up: pavilions and banners and soldiers and Animals milling about. I heard trumpets and dimly realized they were for me, announcing the arrival of the High King. Narnians of all kinds rushed over to see us, joy turning to shock at my and Phillip's appearance and back to joy. They lined the route right up to a large tent just as they had lined the road from Cair Paravel when I left this past summer. Even as Phillip plodded forward, Aslan stepped out of the tent. Brighter than the sun, he so shone golden and warm and magnificent against the red cloth of the pavilion that I squinted. He waited for me, his eyes alight with pride.

Carefully, with Oreius's hands hovering close to me, I dismounted. Despite the Centaur's caution I slipped out of his grasp and collapsed almost to the ground, jarring my broken arm. The pain cleared my head for a moment and I looked not to Oreius, but Phillip for help. The Horse leaned his head down close to me and I seized his bridle. With effort he and Oreius hauled me upright. I leaned against the Horse's neck for a few moments, then pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks since I could barely talk. He walked a few paces with me until I let go and he let me take the last few steps on my own.

I didn't remember falling, just sudden, jarring agony in my shins and knees and ribs as I crashed down. That was all. I had nothing left to give. I felt tears in my eyes and my aching throat was painfully tight. Sweat poured down my back, my face, and I was so terribly cold that I wasn't certain I could ever be warm again. I looked up in absolute misery, but Aslan had come to me. He looked first to Phillip and kissed the Horse on the forehead. Then he bent his head close to me, tears in his eyes as he rubbed his velvety muzzle against my face. He spoke in a whisper so deep and resonant it shook the very earth.

"Well done."

I leaned heavily against him, unable to lift my arms to hug him as he helped me to sit up. "I brought you the apple," I croaked. With my left hand I dug into the small satchel slung over my shoulder and carefully pulled out the silvery apple I had traveled to the ends of the world to find. Glowing and perfect still, it was beautiful in a way wholly different from Narnia and Aslan. I held it out to him in my grubby hands, trembling with the effort.

He still spoke softly, but I knew everyone there could hear him. "High King Peter, beloved Son of Adam, you have suffered and fought and sacrificed all for this moment. None but you shall plant this tree."

I looked up at him, too weak and miserable to say more than, "Aslan, I can't stand."

"Then plant it where you lay."

I stared at the ground, set the apple down, then fumbled for the knife Edmund had given me. I tried, but I could not dig. The ground was too hard and I was too weak. I dropped the knife, unable to halt the tears that had threaten to fall since I had set eyes on Aslan. I never found a word to describe what I felt at that moment. Pathetic. Frustrated. Destroyed. Triumphant. Magnificent. I was so exhausted and sick I couldn't remember how to feel happy or relieved any more.

A moment later a huge golden paw scooped out a hole in one swipe. I let out my breath, almost laughing at the simplicity of Aslan's solution. I held up the apple and Aslan breathed on it and me, stirring up my long hair. Then I set the apple in the hole and he buried it. I stared at the little pile of dirt with blurred vision, amazed that this was the end, when a large drop fell upon it, turning the soil dark, then another and another. I raised my head.

Aslan was looking upon me and weeping. There was joy and understanding and love in his expression and I knew it was because not only had we again triumphed over Jadis, but that I had succeeded and Edmund was free. I swallowed, realizing I was crying as well.

"It was well planted. Now you must rest and heal, my child."

I did so, laying my head against his, forgetting my subjects gathered round, forgetting my aches, forgetting everything but the love and joy in his face as he looked upon me and called me his.