Disclaimer: sibling arguments, brilliant ideas, and endearing characters are not mine. Nor is the English language. Nor is . Nor is the air you're breathing while reading this. Nor is the time you're it takes to be pursued. Nor is…
And so on. We good?
On to the very beginning of Edmund angst!
Because yes—it's just the beginning. Promise.
Beta'd by trustingHim17, who is even more of a lifesaver than spell check, and I'm sure at least one person knows how much they owe that particular program; I owe it readable stories.
OOOOO
"Knowing their name doesn't really help us, especially if we don't know the language," Susan told Edmund in exasperation.
"Then we try to learn it," Edmund bit back.
"Oh, that will be ever so easy when you're fending them off with a sword and shield!"
"Enough," Peter commanded. "It won't do any good to fight about this now. We're all too tired and not thinking straight. It's off to bed. For all of us," he emphasised. "I mean it. No staying in the library trying to find just one more thing about them. It will wait till tomorrow."
"Only if they don't attack tonight," Edmund muttered, but it was a half-hearted grumble. He was already yawning as he thought of bed.
He made it to his bed without falling, thanks to Peter's quick reflexes, and slept soundly through the night, but he woke to a terrible taste in his mouth and something tickling his eyes. He blinked, pushing himself up, and found that his crown had ripped a hole in his pillow during the night, and he'd managed to inhale at least one feather.
"Pah!" he spat, the limp feather slimy. "I feel like constantly wearing a crown is a biting metaphor for being a king," he grumbled to himself, stuffing as many feathers as he could back into the pillow. He hauled himself out of bed, enjoying the soothing carpet beneath his feet, and stumbled towards the wardrobe he'd requested made as a reminder of the past. His valet had hung the outfit on it, as usual, so Edmund didn't have to bother about picking something out, and Edmund slipped into it, into his boots, pulled things straight, and headed towards the door.
Only to catch a glimpse of something white in his reflection on his way out, and he backed up a step and looked into the mirror. He scowled at the feathers in his hair, picking the handful out and stuffing them back into the pillow, only to discover that had made him late for breakfast. His siblings nodded on his arrival, but his mood must have shown on his face, because they kept any comments to themselves.
That was kind of them. It'd be kinder if they set breakfast at a much later hour, Edmund thought sourly, but as his gaze fell on the fragrant food and he inhaled, he felt a bit better.
The High King waited until they were done before starting a conversation. Edmund felt much more awake, and ready to tackle Narnia's problems.
"Thoughts?" the High King asked.
"I think we should make a plan for the Telar first. They're a more immediate threat," Edmund said.
"Rather than an odd inconvenience that refuses to be removed," Susan agreed. She smiled at him, an apology for the night before, and he accepted with a nod.
"We need two plans, one for defense and one for getting information," Peter began, leaning forward. None of them had bothered dressing up that morning, compulsory crowns excepted, Edmund noticed for the first time. Peter wore a simple tunic, not even Rhindon at his waist. Come to think of it, Edmund had been too tired to do more than his boots and outfit too. He'd have to watch Peter, make sure he didn't overdo it today.
Or just set Susan on him. That would be far easier, and sometimes more effective. And it would get Susan's attention away from Edmund as well.
"Can we ask some of the Birds to follow them back, after their next attack?" Susan was asking, and Peter nodded. "But there's nothing we can do to stop the attack, is there?" she ended with a frustrated sigh.
"And not much we can do about weapons, either. Most claws can't harm solid stone, at least not enough to deter them, and I'd not ask a Beast to risk his life for the sake of scratches that don't even seem to hurt. That leaves arrows, which break without doing any harm, lesser swords which do the same, and better swords—we've a few of those now, since the Dwarves aren't afraid they'll end up in the wrong hands—which can, if given to Centaurs, actually stop them."
"So we arm the Centaurs."
"And Bears, and anyone else strong enough to crack stone. And ask the Dwarves to focus on swords, or any other weapons, that can deal damage to stone. A mace or a bludgeoning tool would probably work." Peter paused. "It bothers me that there's not more we can do to communicate with them. They don't seem—they weren't like the Witch's soldiers. They hit those attacking them, but other than a severe fright, not a Rabbit was harmed, according to what I heard this morning from the Bats. They left the servants alone at Branther's, too. Did a lot of damage to those actually fighting, and we might need your cordial there, Lu, if the attacks get bad and we need more soldiers, Branther's got a training regime like Oreius', and his men are good." Lucy nodded. "But they don't hurt anyone not fighting them," he said, returning to his frustration.
"It's like they're looking for something," Edmund commented. "But we can't help them find it without knowing what it is, Peter."
"Then let's go ask them." There was a pause, every sibling turning towards Lucy, who dropped her gaze.
"We don't speak their language," Susan reminded her, more gently than she'd said it the night before.
"But surely there's someone who does! We can't-can't have lost that much in the winter." She looked from one sibling to another, questioning. "Can we?"
"An Owl," Peter says after a moment. "One of them might remember."
"Or an Elephant. Oreius told us they have long memories, remember?" Susan said absently. "But an Owl or an Elephant are too large to be anything but a target. We can't send them."
"They haven't hurt anyone but those who attack them as they make their alarming appearances," Edmund reminded her.
"That doesn't guarantee the Beast would be safe! We could be sending something too large to hide on a mission where it doesn't have a chance," Susan objected.
"A Mouse, then," Lucy offered. "Paired with an Owl, or Elephant. They're small enough to sneak in, and brave enough they'd love to be asked."
"That's an idea, Lu. They could find a safe way in, close enough for someone to listen-"
"And the Beast could translate," Edmund finished Peter's thought. "But we'd better have the Birds ready to follow, just in case the attack comes sooner than our Mouse finds them." Peter nodded.
"In that case, we're likely to have an entire troop of Mice looking," Susan put in wryly. "They'll all be delighted to be asked, and fight over the honor unless we ask them all."
"Which means ordering them to very strictly not challenge, speak to, or sabotage the Telar until they've found a partner who can translate." Peter's head hit the table, his crown making a hollow thunk.
"It's a place to begin, and the sooner we do begin, the better" Susan said briskly. Peter brought his head up in time to catch her smile, and he reluctantly smiled himself.
"I'll take the Dwarves," Edmund offered, taking the last piece of toast.
"I'll speak with the Centaurs and other soldiers who will do the actual fighting." Peter stretched his arms out.
"I'll speak to the Birds," Susan said.
"And I'll take the Mice," Lucy finished. Smiles spread from one to another, all pausing to revel in that sweet moment of working together, of sharing the load and shared plans.
And then all of it became, once again, completely unnecessary.
Because the Four stood just as shadow blocked the light in the window, and they turned to see a Telar's wings flapping outside just as the glass shattered. Peter and Edmund each grabbed their closest sister, pulling them in front and shielding them from the glass, their other hands reaching uselessly to their waists. Neither of them had swords.
"Get out!" Peter yelled, pushing Susan towards the door, and she grabbed her skirts and ran, Peter's hands already reaching behind him for the two younger children, pulling them around the table. The Telar outside the window made a strange bark, then flung himself through the window. Edmund saw Peter turn, bracing himself to meet the statue, to give his siblings time. Edmund hated Peter in that moment, hated his bravery and selflessness and everything that made him king—and then he got over it, already reaching for his brother's shoulder to yank him back to safety.
But he was too late, for the bark had been a signal, and the room was filling with Telar. His outstretched hand was grabbed in an unforgiving grasp, and other hands grabbed shoulders with the same bruising strength. The statues had Peter, too, and behind him Edmund heard Susan scream.
"Susan!" He fought the hands on his shoulders, on both his wrists now, but they were too strong, as immovable as Cair Paravel's walls, and they were pulling his wrists up, stretching over his head, and a solid stone arm hit his knees, and then he was being held, clutched against that stone stomach, and the hands on his wrists transferred them to the hand around his back.
"Lucy!" That was Susan again, and he fought, arching his body, trying to slip out of the hold, trying to see either of his sisters, and he heard Peter grunt, but the stone bodies were everywhere, he couldn't see beyond flapping wings, no matter how much he twisted, and then-
Then the floor dropped from under him, for the Telar had hurled himself out of the window, wings flat against his body, and then they spread out, and a strong flap, flap, flap, heavier than Edmund had ever heard it sound, stone against air. The Telar was flying, and Edmund, held in his arms, could only see the bright, blue Narnian sky.
It had been moments since the shattering of the window.
Other sounds began, thuds and cracking wood, and Edmund realised it was arrows, arrows uselessly hitting the stone, as the Telar flew higher and higher, almost above eyesight.
Other heavy flaps joined the noise as well, even as the wood and thuds ceased, and Edmund looked up at his captor. The stone eyes with stone pupils were turned towards the sky, as if Edmund, with all his struggles, was an afterthought, a baby waving its arms, and Edmund ceased trying to twist out of its grip.
Wherever they were going, it would not help if the Telar dropped him now.
Peter had the same thought. And he didn't like it. Susan had cried out, twice, and once had been Lucy's name. He hoped Edmund, at least, had gotten away; he was the fastest of the Four.
He had to hope Edmund got away, because at least one of them needed to be free to mount a rescue. Peter couldn't seem to rescue himself right now. If he did—there was a nasty drop.
A second later his heart jumped to his mouth as he thought suddenly that he'd won, he'd twisted his way free, and he'd been dropped, because he fell.
Stone arms still held his wrists, were underneath his legs, though, and Peter realised the Telar was diving, diving for the ground as it must have dived for Cair Paravel, too high to be spotted before then.
They fell, and fell, and Peter gulped and grabbed the stone fingers, hard, to keep from screaming, because this felt like falling to a messy death, and Peter prayed his siblings weren't dying too, and then a flap filled his ears, and the stone wings were extended over them, and their rush halted. Crack, crack, and crack! filled Peter's ears even as branches appeared above the stone wings, and Peter saw the tops of trees grow taller and taller above them, and a breath later they landed.
They weren't falling any longer. Thank Aslan, they weren't falling. Peter breathed in. And out. And back in, Narnian air, just breathing.
His kidnapper was looking at him, and Peter raised his chin, ready to fight, ready to do anything but scream, but the Telar just set his feet on the ground, still holding his wrists. Peter looked around, and saw more Telar. Seven more, just in front and to the sides, and Peter's eyes flashed as he saw one of them holding Lucy, much the same way he was being held.
His valiant sister's cheeks were red and her eyes wide with excitement, eyes turned in wonder to the Telar's wings, before she shook herself and glared at the mountainous Beast beside her, and Peter couldn't help the quick smile that crossed his face.
"Put me down," a voice behind him ordered, and Peter's smile fled. That was Edmund's voice, and now he was saying- "Su! All right?"
"All right," but Susan's voice sounded breathless, and Peter twisted, trying to find her, only to have the grip on his wrists clench painfully, and his Telar open his stone mouth, grumbles and sharp sounds emerging. Another Telar answered him, then two more at the same time, and Peter heard steps come up behind him. Another Telar brought rope and bound his hands together, and his feet, despite Peter's twisting, and then something slipped over his eyes, and Peter couldn't see.
He could hear, though, and he heard Lucy's sharp gasp, and he called out her name, sharply.
"I'm all right!" she called back. "They blinded me, and it surprised me. I was thinking about how they didn't hurt the Rabbits, and I haven't been fighting back. They've been gentle."
Thank Aslan.
"Ed, you all right?" he asked, raising his voice over the continuing sounds of Telar conversation.
"Peter? I'm fine, you know, other than all four of us being blindfolded, bound, and ooof-" Edmund broke off, but Peter didn't ask what was wrong, because stone arms had scooped him up again as well, and with more flaps and the cracking of branches, they took off again.
Peter did not like flying bound and blind. His only constants were the two arms and the stone he rested against, and everything was air and wind. He hated being blind.
That, perhaps, he could fix. He began rubbing his head, as softly, gently as possible, against the stone stomach he rested against, trying to push the blindfold down, down, there, there, he could feel it moving, feel it sliding over his nose, the pressure falling away from the top of his eyelids, down, down, and there!
He could see. Only the blindfold was around his mouth, now, having dropped as soon as it got over his nose, and he didn't want to shake it away and have his captor see. But flying was so much easier to handle if he wasn't blind.
They flew for perhaps an hour, judging by the slowly climbing, golden sun. Then again they dived, and Peter sincerely hoped Lucy enjoyed it, because he decided, with two experiences to judge on, that it was not for him.
They didn't fall into forests this time. They fell into caves.
Caves that echoed the voices of the Telar, caves where light quickly vanished behind them and Peter grew afraid once again, till he remembered their cat-like eyes and thought maybe they could see in the dark.
See better in the dark, he amended, as he heard stone crash against stone. He wondered, heart beginning to pound, why they didn't light torches. He did not have to wonder long.
He heard snaps, growls, rage underneath him, and he'd heard those sounds before. The sounds of the White Witch's army, of the evil creatures that haunted the night, that he and Oreius and Edmund all the soldiers still fought against. He stiffened, reading himself to fight, even bound, wondering if they'd been brought here as a sacrifice, a victory, if the Fell had made new allies of these stone creatures of the sky. Or if the Witch had enslaved them long ago.
But they flew over the noise, leaving it behind as well, going deeper and deeper, until the only noise was the flap of wings.
They landed again with a soft thump, and again Peter's feet were released, and he staggered in the dark. The hands felt around his wrists, pulling on the rope, then moved down and did the same to his feet, then up, brushing his elbow, his shoulder, finding the former blindfold and pulling it tight. Peter gasped, and it tightened between his lips. He was effectively gagged, whether his captor meant to or not. A hand pushed his shoulder and Peter fell, the other hand grabbing him and slowing his descent, till he was sitting on a hard cave floor.
Thudding sounds—the Telar walking away. Several of them.
Where were his siblings? They'd flown over the Fell-
Oh, Aslan, don't let the Telar have dropped them. Don't let them have left me till last, don't let me have outlived my siblings. Please, save them, keep them from the claws that could have-
They are in Your paws. Save them. Save them. Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Aslan, they-
"I guess we know what they were searching for," Edmund's voice suddenly offered in the dark, from some distance away, and Peter breathed out a half-choked gasp, blinking rapidly in the dark to stop his eyes from filling. Edmund.
Edmund was alive.
"We were followed," Susan's voice offered a moment later, even farther away by the sound, and Peter could hear her fighting to be calm, the tiny break in her voice, the way she paused to breathe. Oh, Susan. "I saw two Robins and an Eagle flying behind us, before they landed and bound our eyes."
"I hope they didn't try attacking," Edmund put in grimly, and Peter ached with the thought of the three brave Birds, fighting an army of stone. Because they would have, if they saw their Kings and Queens captive, their fierce loyalty to the Four—still Four, right?
But where was Lucy?
"Lucy?" Susan called a moment later, and Peter held his breath.
"I'm here. I think my Telar liked me, he set me on a rock as a chair," Lucy's voice offered, half laughing, half crying.
"Peter?" Edmund asked, and Peter tried to make a noise around his gag. Not loud enough, for Edmund's voice rose. "Peter?" Bound, Peter tried to roll, but stopped when at his sisters' voices.
"Peter?" "Peter?"
"All together, when I say three," and Edmund sounded grim. "One, two, three-"
"Peter!" their voices chorused, and Peter clenched his fingers, helpless to reassure them.
"Edmund, I heard-" and Susan's voice caught, and she cleared her throat, trying to be a Queen, an adult, the oldest, "the, the growls, when we came in—you don't think-"
"No," Lucy interrupted, voice fierce. "I don't." Edmund didn't answer.
Peter had begun rolling again, listening for the voices, following the sound as his head began spinning, and how the dark could spin when he couldn't see anything was a problem for a later time, because he was close to Edmund, and there. Peter rolled into him.
Edmund yelped, jerking away, but Peter firmly rolled into him again, reaching out with his bound hands and grabbing Edmund's arm with soft, non-stone fingers. Edmund froze.
"Peter?" he asked quietly, hopefully, and Peter made the loudest noise he could through his gag, a muffled yes. Edmund's fingers reached out, going up his arm, towards his face.
"Edmund?" Susan asked, and Peter could feel his brother's sigh of relief when his fingers touched Peter's crown, still firmly set on his head. Edmund's breath smelled of toast.
"I've got Peter here, he's gagged," Edmund called softly. "But he seems to be all right." Edmund paused. "Better, maybe, now that he's gagged," Edmund joked softly, and Peter elbowed him, but he'd heard Edmund's voice waver, and he also put his bound arms around him. I'm here. I'm fine. "He's fine," Edmund called, his voice firmer. "Elbowing me in the stomach, as thanks for talking for him."
"Peter," Lucy said, her voice close to sobbing.
"Can we untie ourselves?" Susan asked a moment later, and Peter lifted his arms to feel down to Edmund's wrists, to the rough rope tied there. "Lucy, don't move, I'll come to you," and Peter could hear the soft sounds of footsteps and the rustling skirts.
Edmund's rope had no give around his wrists, looped several times around each. The ends were knotted in a complex knot Peter couldn't begin to understand without light, though he didn't give up trying. He did remove Edmund's blindfold, not that it helped in the dark, and Edmund loosened and removed his gag. Then he went back to the ropes, trying again. Behind him he could hear Susan and Lucy trying to find each other, talking to each other in a soft game of Blind Man's Bluff to draw close together in the dark.
They'd just found each other, removing each other's blindfolds, then Lucy sliding to the floor so Susan could reach her wrists better, when first thumps, and then footsteps sounded again, and the Telar approached.
They carried lighted torches. The firelight fell dully on the grey stone, and Peter noted that one of the carriers did not have a wing. Oreius, he thought, remembering the Centaur's story. That one was one of three in the lead, and behind them Telar were flying, landing on the edge of a black gap, and Peter realised—with relief, when he thought of the Fell nearby—that a chasm separated their house-sized cave from the rest. Though it will be harder to escape.
The Telar came closer, heads pivoting as they looked at the four. Of the three in front, the one on the right murmured something in their rough words to the others, and the Telar looked from the Kings to the Queens.
They want us for something, Peter thought, heart sinking. There were twenty Telar at least, and he knew whatever they had planned, he was helpless.
The Telar in the middle and to the right were holding large stone hands out towards each group, and Peter, a bit of confused, saw the one on the left (without the wing) impatiently smack the shoulder of the one in the middle and paw at his head, then drop his hand down below his shoulder and pull on nothing.
As if he had long hair, Peter realised, glancing towards his sisters, noting with a flare of anger the bruise on Susan's cheek. The other two Telar looked once more at the Queens, then nodded in agreement, gesturing shooing motions at them. Several Telar from behind them went to pick them up, lifting them up to fly again. The one in the middle looked at the two Kings.
"Cair Paravel," it said in guttural tones, pointing at the Queens. "Cair Paravel."
They're taking them back to Cair Paravel, and oh, the joy of that realisation. Perhaps Lucy was right, perhaps they didn't hurt those who didn't fight them, didn't hurt unless they had to, and there was a chance now—if he could trust the Telar—that Lucy and Susan would go home.
He nodded at the Telar. "Thank you," he voiced, glad he kept the words steady. The Telar nodded back.
"So they didn't need our sisters," Edmund muttered beside him, tensing as more of the Telar trooped over towards the Kings. "So why'd they bring them?"
"And what are they going to do with us?" Peter added, also low. He did not want Susan and Lucy thinking about that, when there was nothing they could do and they were about to go home.
The three stone leaders were closer now, and their entourage encircled the Kings. The three were again discussing something, this time with more animated gestures, arguing, even. Finally the one in the middle shrugged. The one with one wing rumbled a sharp command, and stone hands grabbed the Kings' arms, pulling them to their feet. The one-winged Telar came closer, holding his hand over Peter's head, and then moving it over Edmund's, going down that scant distance between their heights. He moved back to Peter's head, going up, then down again over Edmund's, and he nodded, turning to his two cohorts and speaking a short explanation before stepping back. The middle one nodded again.
"Cair Paravel," he boomed, pointing at Peter, and a Telar picked him up at once. Then he looked at Edmund, and slowly shook his head.
"Not Edmund?" Peter asked, his heart picking up speed. "Wait!" he yelled as the three Telar turned to leave, and his voice echoed through the cave so loudly they paused. "What are you doing with Edmund?" He struggled to sit upright in his captors arms, and pointed with both bound arms to Edmund. "What are you doing with my brother?"
The three Telar looked at each other, discussed something, and then looked at him. They pointed at Edmund and shook their heads.
"I know! What does that mean?"
"Peter!" Edmund said sharply, and Peter glanced over to see Edmund's face was white, his eyes steadily staring at Peter. When he saw he had Peter's attention, he shook his head.
Whatever was happening, Edmund did not want Peter to risk their captors' anger to rescue him.
Edmund did not get to make that decision.
"I need to know what you're doing with my brother," Peter repeated, though less loudly.
"We all do," added Susan from across the cave, and the Telar swivelled their heads to look at her at the sound.
"Please," added Lucy, pleading, and her tone would have made her meaning clear in any language. The Telar who held her looked down at her and said something slowly to the three. A moment of silence followed.
OOOOO
I know this was evil. I'm sorry. Only I have an explanation! The next part is going to be quite long, and there really was a worse place to stop it, I promise, and it's almost 10pm at night and I'm not a night person, and I just had to stop, and I'm sorry? I'll get the next one out as soon as possible, promise!