Um...Okay, hi! I didn't forget about my faithful readers waiting patiently for a chapter that was late by TWO WEEKS! I really am dreadfully sorry, and I don't even have a good excuse...I just got sidetracked. My apologies! Hopefully you will forgive me and keep reading?

Aslan's Daughter: I was actually listening to the Les Mis soundtrack while writing this! Glad you're still reading, and I hope you like this chapter as well!

Guest: I'm SO SORRY! I really meant to get it up in a week :-(, but...I got sidetracked. Your review is actually while I'm posting now! It reminded me that I really was supposed to be working on this story, and got me back on track, so thank you very much! Hopefully you will accept this chapter as a peace offering for my abysmal update speed?

22nd. of Greenroof, 1012—Second-day

Once the sun had set Peter, Edmund, and a very nervous Brickle made their cautious way back towards the polished marble walls of the city that loomed up, pure white against the indigo sky. Menwy was still asleep, hidden in the shadow of the tombs behind them, but Sallowpad had stirred as they gathered their things and peered out from beneath his wing with a solemn promise to keep watch until they returned.

As they walked Peter could see, beyond the walls, towards the central hill of the city, the flicker of torches and a few gleams of light from windows, but the heavy stone hid the lower city from sight and gave the whole place an air of danger and mystery.

They skirted around the edge of the wall, keeping to the shadows, and making their way around the right side of the circular barrier—towards the river and palaces with gardens bordered by low walls that crowded thickly on the bank. At Edmund's insistence Peter kept a few paces back with Brickle, watching cautiously as his brother slipped ahead, quiet and swift as a shadow.

It made sense—reasonably he knew that—Edmund had always been good at this sort of thing, and if they were to run into a patrol of guards or a Tarkaan out for a late night stroll Edmund could warn them of the danger and be gone in the next heartbeat. Peter knew very well that he could not say the same of himself or of Brickle.

But still…If it isn't Edmund…If it wasn't Edmund, then they were being led into a trap.

They had worked their way down the riverbank, keeping in the shadow cast by the city walls, and the roar of the water was nearly deafening when Edmund suddenly stopped, seemed to consider for a moment, and then vanished into what seemed to be a small alcove in the wall.

Peter hurried after him, his boots slipping on the damp grass and nearly sending him down. Brickle puffed out what sounded vaguely like a laugh as he stumped along, infuriatingly steady on his feet even over the rough terrain and slippery grass.

"Pete!" Edmund was kneeling in front of an iron barred gate, poking at a large padlock with the tip of Peter's spare dagger. "I could use a little light."

Peter fumbled for a moment, trying to strike a spark from flint while holding the torch he had brought awkwardly under on arm. The torch flared after a moment and he shuffled further into the small alcove, trying to stand as much between the light and the low entrance as he could—hoping to shield the torch light from being seen.

Brickle mumbled something under his breath and slipped back out onto the river bank, presumably to keep watch, and Peter wondered idly what exactly they could do if they were caught. The alcove was barred by a heavy iron gate which seemed to lead into a low, dim tunnel that stretched away into darkness. There was no clear path of escape and the hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably.

Edmund was cursing, kneeling with his head bent over the large padlock and chain that he still seemed to be stabbing at with the tip of the dagger. He looked up, scowling when the light flared, and Peter could see a thin stream of blood flowing from his nose.

"Ed?" You're—" Not you? "Bleeding."

Edmund swiped carelessly at the blood and shrugged. "We need to move," his voice was strained, and Peter didn't quite miss the flash of pain that crossed his face and was gone just as swiftly. "It wasn't locked last time I came in this way." He rocked back on his heels, slipping slightly in a pair of Peter's spare boots which were much too large for him, and rubbed absently at his forehead. "Do you still have that cloak pin Lucy gave you last Christmas?"

Peter had forgotten about the small pin that held his cloak until that moment, but he pulled it free hurriedly and passed it to Edmund. The pin was only two or three inches long at most, but it was much slimmer than the dagger and, even to Peter inexperienced as he was at picking locks, it looked like it might fit into the workings of the padlock.

Cursing under his breath Edmund leant back over the lock and Peter could see that his hands were shaking—not badly, not enough to make him drop the cloak pin, but enough to be noticeable even in the dim light of the single torch.

It's getting worse, he realised, feeling the heavy weight of dread settle more menacingly over him. He still had no idea of how it could have happened, of how his brother had come to a consciousness with someone long dead, but however it had happened it seemed to be taking a toll on Edmund.

The lock clicked audibly, and Peter watched as the iron grate swung inward, wincing at the creaking sound its hinges made as it did so. It couldn't really have been very loud, but in the tense silence it sounded deafening and for a moment Peter was almost certain that every guard in Tashbaan must have heard the noise.

"Brickle!" Edmund was already stepping into the low entrance as he called over his shoulder for the Dwarf and held out a hand for the torch Peter held. Peter hesitated, trying to peer past him into the gloom, but he could make out little more than a shadowy tunnel that went straight on for about ten yards before it was lost completely in the gloom.

Brickle pushed past him, tugging at his beard nervously, and stepped up to the entrance to stand next to Edmund, and Peter looked quickly back in the direction of the riverbank. It still seemed to be deserted, no patrols were visible in the distance and the night was still quiet, the eerie stillness broken only by the distant hooting off an owl from one of the riverside gardens.

There was no immediate sight or sound of danger, but something seemed wrong—there was a charged feeling to the air, like a storm waiting to break, that prickled the hair on the back of his neck and set his heart racing in an uneven, eager rhythm. Someone is watching us.

"Peter!" Edmund was still holding a hand out for the torch and glaring. He did not seem to sense the same, indefinable sense of being observed, and Peter shrugged the feeling off with an effort, passed his brother the torch, and pulled the creaking gate shut after them as they shuffled forward into the narrow tunnel.

The smell was not nearly as bad as Peter had imagined it would be when Edmund had told him the tunnel connected to a section of the sewers, but the air was thick with the smell of damp, mold, and less pleasant odours that seemed to drift out from the shadows further along.

The torchlight sent their shadows dancing up the curved walls, turning them to grotesquely warped versions of themselves, and making Peter turn his head sharply every time a flicker of movement caught his eye. Their footsteps thudded dully on the uneven stone beneath their feet and echoed back, magnified by the bare stone and sounding loud as the thundering footfalls of a giant. Even Brickle, who Peter had thought likely to be the most comfortable under ground seemed uneasy and Peter could see his eyes darting back and forth frantically—from one wall to the other and back again, punctuated every few moments by a quick glance over his shoulder.

They kept on in this way for what seemed to Peter an eternity, though it was probably only about ten minutes, before the tunnel before them split, one branch of it sloping down steeply to their left and the other continuing in a vaguely upward direction to their right. The floor at the juncture was covered by a few inches of brackish looking water that ran in a sluggish stream from the right-hand tunnel and continued down to the left. Listening intently Peter could hear a rushing sound, like a stream when the snow was melting down from the mountains—swollen and angry—echoing up from the lower tunnel.

"That one leads to the river," Edmund told him quietly, his voice almost a whisper though it still echoed back from the walls. "We want the tunnel going up."

Peter nodded, though he looked rather dubiously up the indicated tunnel. The incline was gradual, but the water running down was likely to make the floor dangerously slick, especially in the dim lighting. "Maybe I should go first?" he suggested, trying—with no success—to keep his voice low enough that it would not echo.

Edmund looked over his shoulder, face ghostly pale even in the ruddy torchlight and shook his head wearily. "I'm the one who knows the way." He sounded terribly out of breath, despite the fact that they had been keeping to a moderate pace, and it seemed as if it was taking all his energy just to stay on his feet. Peter knew that, ordinarily, he would have made a sarcastic comment about Peter's inability to find the right direction even above ground, and the fact that he did not was beyond concerning.

Behind him he could hear the foul looking water splashing as Brickle shifted his feet in impatience or nervousness, but he ignored it for the time being and cautiously put a hand on Edmund's shoulder.

"Ed—"

Edmund brushed his hand off impatiently and shook his head. "Don't bother Peter, I'm fine. If I wasn't, I'm sure you would have told me." The words were sharp, but there was too much exhaustion in Edmund's voice for there to be much force in them. Without another word Edmund turned and started trudging up the slight incline with Brickle following him.

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, watching the twisted shadows on the walls and trying to keep from punching the nearest wall.

"I'm sure you would have told me." To someone who did not know Edmund the words might have sounded like a declaration of trust, but Peter had taken them as they were meant—as a rebuke. Before he had time to dwell on the guilt that had crashed over him at the words however, he heard the echo of footsteps in the distance.

They were not coming from the right-hand tunnel that Edmund and Brickle were quickly fading from view in, but back from the way they had come. They were heavy, purposeful, and unmistakably growing closer. Looking back Peter could see, far in the distance of the tunnel, which was nearly pitch black again now that the torchlight was fading into the distance, another flickering light on the walls.

He turned and hurried up the tunnel after his brother and the Dwarf, dropping a hand to Rhindon's hilt as he went. He did not dare risk calling out in warning, afraid that his voice would echo back to the other group in the tunnels, and he slipped, nearly falling face first into the foul-smelling water that ran down the sloping floor before he caught himself on the wall.

A moment later he caught up with Edmund and Brickle and pushed past them before stopping and blocking their further progress. Edmund glared at him and opened his mouth to speak before he seemed to recognise the expression on Peter's face and gave him a questioning look instead.

Peter motioned back down the hallway and held up his other hand, signaling that they should be quiet. Edmund nodded and passed the torch to Brickle, who took it in one hand and used his other hand to wrap his heavy cloak around the still burning end. The light vanished instantly as the heavy material stifled the flames, leaving them in utter darkness with the sound of trickling water and their own breathing.

Looking back down the tunnel Peter strained his eyes, but could see nothing except the thick, black darkness that lay around them. A splashing to his left made him turn, though he still couldn't see anything, and a moment later a hand closed over his arm, pulling him back slightly towards the wall. Splashing to his right alerted him that Brickle was moving too and a moment later he was fairly certain that all three of them now had their backs to the sloping, damp wall.

Another long moment passed and then a laugh echoed up the tunnel, followed a moment later by the sound of low voices and the clatter and clink of weapons and armour. The darkness was slowly brightening where Peter knew the mouth of the tunnel must be and a moment later he could see the dark shapes of two Calormene guards, each holding a torch in one hand and a scimitar in the other, pass in front of the tunnel opening.

Peter held his breath, the sound of his own heartbeat nearly deafening, and waited. The guards stopped, but appeared unconcerned as they lounged against the walls, talking in low voices. They seemed to be on patrol, though why they would be patrolling the sewers Peter really couldn't imagine, and neither one of them seemed to have gone to the trouble of looking up into the tunnel where the three Narnians would have been in plain view, even pressed up against the walls.

Another moment slipped past, and then another, the guards laughed again, and both sheathed their scimitars and began passing a wineskin back and forth. Peter could feel his muscles start to cramp from the effort of remaining perfectly still and something damp was trickling uncomfortably down the back of his neck. He wasn't sure if it was sweat or just the general dampness of the tunnel itself, and wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know, but he didn't dare reach back and brush it away.

After another long moment he felt more than heard movement to his left and staggered slightly as a weight slumped against him suddenly. Biting back a curse he shifted, trying to keep his balance on the slippery floor, before he could quite process what was happening—or what it might mean—he heard a low, half choked groan from Edmund.

The guards froze, one holding the wineskin midway to his lips and both turned with almost comical looks of surprise to the tunnel. "Ho there!" The one not holding the wineskin called, drawing his scimitar as he began to jog up the sloping floor, still holding the torch aloft.

Peter glanced quickly to his left, now that the tunnel was growing brighter in the approaching torchlight, and saw Edmund, half slumped against him, both hands pressed to his forehead and his face twisted with pain. To his right he heard Brickle curse, followed by the rasp of metal as the Dwarf drew a dagger from his belt.

There was no time. The other guard had dropped the wineskin and drawn his scimitar as well, and now both of them were charging up the tunnel, almost disturbingly sure-footed on the slick stones. In another moment they would be almost level with Brickle, who had stepped forward to meet them.

"Stay here," Peter hissed sharply, doing his best to prop Edmund up against the wall, and drawing Rhindon. He stepped past Brickle quickly and struck out at the first guard, barely seeing the man's surprised look, before their blades clashed together with a sound that echoed deafeningly off the walls. He was vaguely aware of Brickle rushing forward to meet the other Calormene, and then he was ducking under the swing of the first guard's scimitar—half blinded as the man thrust the torch towards his face with his other hand.

He stumbled back half a step, feeling his feet slip nearly out from under him, and caught another glimpse of Brickle, slashing methodically at the other guard's legs as he rolled out of the way of a scimitar blow. Peter got his balance back just in time to slash upwards with Rhindon, catching the guard a glancing blow across the front of his armour. The man stumbled back, slipped and went down, only to leap back to his feet a moment later—eyes blazing with fury under his helmet.

The Calormene cursed, and threw his torch—arcing it end over end towards Peter's face. As he ducked out of the way his recently broken ankle twisted under him—sending a jolt of pain up his leg and he went down hard, feeling his head collide with the wall.

Sparks danced in front of his eyes as, half-dazed, he stared up at the Calormene looming above him, scimitar raised to strike.

"Surrender to the power of Tash," the Calormene snarled, face twisting into a sneer as Peter shook his head—clearing the darkness from the edges of his vision. He had fallen half against the wall, his bad leg caught beneath him, and he could feel the dagger in his boot pressing against his leg, only an inch or two from his left hand.

He shifted slightly, trying to look as though he was still dazed by the fall, and pulled the dagger free. He threw it, silently cursing the fact that his aim was likely to be very off, and was not sure who was more surprised—himself or the Calormene—when the blade found its mark and sank to the hilt in the exposed flesh of the man's throat.

The guard's eyes widened momentarily, then the scimitar fell from his hands as he stumbled back, falling as he clutched at the hilt of the dagger protruding from his neck. Peter scrambled clumsily to his feet, looking around quickly, and saw that Brickle had the other Calormene on the ground and was holding his dagger at the man's throat with one hand and the Calormene's torch with the other. Edmund was slowly straightening from where he had been leaning against the wall, one hand still pressed to his head.

"We need to move," he said quietly, stumbling a little as he pushed away from the wall and stepped passed Peter to retrieve the fallen Calormene's scimitar. "Brickle, make sure he won't follow us," he added, nodding to the other guard.

Brickle nodded shortly, reversed the dagger in his hand, and slammed the hilt of it against the side of the Calormene's head—he seemed to have lost his helmet at some point—and the man slumped sideways into the muck.

Peter retrieved his dagger, wincing as his ankle throbbed but seemed to hold his weight for the moment, and then turned quickly back to Edmund. "Are you alright?"

Edmund shrugged and took the torch from Brickle, not quite meeting Peter's eyes. "Headache," he answered shortly. "Sorry for the trouble."

Peter tried to force a smile. "We would have needed to deal with them eventually. Or waited for them to pass out drunk," he added, trying to lift a bit of the tension.

Edmund gave him a half-hearted grin, and turned back to trudging up the tunnel. Peter shook his head and followed—he didn't see what else he could do.

After another ten minutes or so, and two more turns—each successive tunnel leading further upward—Edmund stopped in front of another iron grate that blocked what looked to be a blessedly dry and level corridor. There was a chain and a padlock here too, but after a moment of prodding at the lock with Peter's cloak pin the lock clicked open and the grate swung inward, silently this time.

"This leads to the cellars," Edmund whispered, still kneeling in front of the opening with one hand braced against the tunnel wall. Peter nodded and started to step past him into the corridor, eager to be away from the damp and the smell, but Edmund shook his head slightly as he got to his feet. "Just…just wait a minute Peter."

Peter turned back, frowning, and waited as Brickle passed the torch back to Edmund and stepped back slightly, seeming to sense that he was not meant to be included in the conversation. "What is it?"

"It's two left turns, then a right," Edmund said quietly, shifting the torch from one hand to the other, eyes fixed on the flickering shadows that danced up the walls. "Then there's a door—it's probably locked—have Brickle help you, we both know you can't pick a lock to save your life."

Peter frowned, not quite understanding what Edmund was trying to say, but feeling the sense of dread that had lessened since they defeated the guards return full force. "You're coming with us though."

Edmund grinned, for a moment looking far more like himself, and punched Peter lightly in the shoulder. "Course I am, you big oaf!" For a moment everything seemed right. This was how it had always been, Edmund making light-hearted comments while he worried far too much. Then Edmund's expression became serious again and he sighed. "It's…it's just in case." He shrugged, and pushed past Peter, taking the lead into the corridor, and Peter followed—carefully drawing Rhindon when Edmund drew his recently acquired scimitar.

The familiar feeling of the sword hilt in his grip reassured him somewhat, but there was still the uncomfortable, prickling sensation on the back of his neck as they moved forward through the shadowy corridor. Peter found himself glancing over his shoulder every few heartbeats, unable to shake the feeling that they were still being watched, but there was no one behind him except for Brickle, who was trudging along—half hidden in the shadows, tugging periodically on his beard.

They turned left at the next juncture, and continued on into a long room lined with old, broken crates and piles of rotting vegetable matter. A few squeaks signaled the presence of rats, and they hurried on to the next left, and into another corridor that was wider than the last one and seemed to be empty except for the dark shadows near the walls where the torchlight did not reach.

About halfway down the corridor Peter could just make out a door set into the right hand wall. It looked very solid, even in the dim light, and he strained his eyes—trying to make out the details. A moment later he almost collided with Edmund, who had stopped in the centre of the corridor, holding the torch up in one hand and the scimitar wavering visibly in his other hand.

The sense of wrongness crashed over Peter again, the force of realisation nearly enough to send him staggering back, as he belatedly realised that his brother was holding the torch in his right hand, and the scimitar in his left. Edmund seemed to realise it at the same moment and turned, staring blankly at Peter for a moment before he stumbled suddenly, as if struck from behind, and dropped the torch.

Instantly the corridor was plunged into darkness, as Peter stumbled forward, completely disoriented by the sudden shift, towards the sound of a metal blade clattering against stone as it was dropped.

And there's that! Leave me a review and let me know you're still around! I make no promises about the next update, I'll try to get it up soon...but we've all seen how reliable I was last time...

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Cheers,

A