Disclaimer: not the product of Lewis's incredible imagination and intelligent brain.

Warning for battle scenes.

Beta'd by trustingHim17!

OOOOO

Hoofbeats thudded in the woods, and Edmund looked up in time to see Lucy jumping the chasm on horseback. Oreius would have been proud.

She slid off a moment later, the Horses shuffling behind her. "Susan?" she asked, one arm reaching out, the other balanced against the roan horse.

Edmund's throat tightened. "No change. Help me get her up. We've got to get her where Jumak can't find her, just in case." Lucy nodded, but as she turned back to the Horse, the animal knelt.

"I cannot jump the chasm with all three of you, Your Majesties," the Mare offered humbly, holding quite still as Edmund placed his sister across the broad back.

"You go, Edmund," Lucy offered quietly. Edmund hesitated—there were still enemies in the woods—but Lucy saw his face and shook her head. "They have a crown, and Jumak has no interest in me. I'll set out to follow them—carefully," she added as Edmund began to protest. "But we've got to find them. Susan doesn't have time for us to argue about it, and I'm not afraid."

Aslan, had it come to this? Edmund wrestled. Trading Lucy's safety for the hope of Susan's life? But Lucy was right, and Edmund knew it. He knew, also, what it meant to be the younger trying to save the elder sibling. He opened his mouth to tell her so, when a shout rang across their clearing.

"Edmund!"

Edmund and Lucy turned as one, Edmund with a hand still on Susan's still body, the Horse patiently waiting underneath her.

"Peter!" Lucy called back, her clear voice carrying back easily. "We're over here!"

A moment later the High King appeared, sword out as he panted. His eyes swept over them, and Edmund suddenly couldn't look at his older brother.

He stayed still, eyes down, hearing Peter's footsteps come closer, pound into the tree-bridge, and stop. "Susan!" his brother gasped, and Edmund flinched.

"She's still alive," he heard Lucy reassure quickly. "They took her crown, but she's still breathing."

Silence. Edmund knew Peter was touching Susan's neck, holding his hand over her mouth—reassuring himself that she lived. Above those small noises, he could hear the breathing and footsteps of the Narnians spilling out of the wood behind Peter, crossing the bridge, and circling them. The ugly fearful, angry gasps and mutters at the sight of the Gentle Queen died away. Peter was probably straightening her on the horse. Then Edmund heard his brother move, and a hand clasped his arm.

"We'll stop them." Edmund looked up then, knowing the words were Peter's oath. Peter's face was set, knowing this thing had to be done, and trusting that what had to be done would be, by Aslan's will. Peter, stalwart and true, wouldn't fail Susan.

As Edmund had. "We will try," the younger brother responded quietly. "Peter, we don't even know where we're going. Or how to solve this when we get there." But he waited, listening, because Peter was older, and Peter had to have the answers.

"Which way did they fly?" Peter demanded, and Emdund turned to point towards the mountain. "Then we follow." Peter turned to Lucy. "Stay with your sister and half the Dwarves. The Telar are fighting among themselves, and their forces are a third of what they were, but take no chances." He picked her up and set her behind Susan, steading them as the Mare rose.

"Diggertaut, you and your clan stay with the Queens," Oreius ordered, and Edmund glanced around to see several black-bearded Dwarves nodding, tightening their hands on their pickaxes.

"Peter? Edmund?" Both Kings turned back at Lucy's soft voice. She presented a brave face, but Edmund couldn't help noticing her arms were trembling around Susan. "Save her?"

Edmund nodded, seeing Peter do the same, and Lucy gathered up a handful of mane, asking the Horse to move. Once they were under the cover of the trees, the rest of the Narnians turned towards the mountain.

"We cannot match their speed if they're flying," Peter said grimly, eyes on the mountain as his breathing finally steadied after his run to find his siblings.

"It takes time to prepare the spell, with all the lines in the ground," Edmund reminded him. "But if they're all the way back in Telar—"

"I do not think they are." Oreius's hoofbeats sounded behind them. "It would be best if I explained as we go, my Kings. We should follow this chasm."

Peter began walking at once, setting the steady, fast pace the army practiced. The Centaurs, two Bears (new, Peter explained to Edmund, having come across the fight and joined to help), and the remaining Dwarves fell in behind, a few of them muttering something about "Dwarves are natural sprinters," and "We're very dangerous over short distances."*

There was no more talking for the next hour, all the Narnians working on regulating their breathing for the fast pace.

"Oreius?" Edmund asked breathlessly as they slowed their march to a walk for the ten-minute rest.

"Yes, my King?" he answered from just behind the Kings. Edmund tried not to feel annoyed that the warrior was not breathless in the least.

"Why are we following the chasm?"

Oreius hesitated. "A legend, King Edmund."

"We're risking Susan's life on a legend?" Edmund snapped harshly.

"We have no other path to follow. This path does lead to the mountain, and that is where we saw the Telar flying."

Edmund paused. "What is the legend?" he asked more quietly.

"Near the beginning of the White Witch's reign, a neighboring Queen came asking for an exchange. She would teach the White Witch her magic if the White Witch taught her in turn. But the White Witch suffered no rivals. Though she agreed to a meeting, she brought with her soldiers to entrap the Queen, planning to ambush her. The battle between the Witch and the Queen carved deep chasms in the ground, running from the cave where they met far into the snow-filled forest."

"You think the other Queen might be from Telmar?" Peter broke in, looking thoughtfully at the chasm on their side.

"It is said that the White Witch came back from their battle and began turning her enemies into statues of stone."

"And if the Telar Queen fought using magic, she might have used so much she became still," Edmund added thoughtfully. "And gave Jadis a taste for that particular punishment."

Oreius nodded. Edmund looked at Peter, who shrugged. "It's worth a try," The conversation dissolved as their pace picked up again.

The forced march brought them nearer to the mountain within three hours, though their pace slowed as they came across more chasms running outward from the mountain. Again and again they had to swerve around them or build bridges if the chasm had zigzagged horizontally from the mountain. One of the Dwarves had an axe instead of a pickaxe, and he quickly cut down bridges, but Edmund and Peter paced at every stop. Edmund remembered Susan's white face, her body dropped on the ground like a used napkin, and shuddered.

"Rest, your Majesties, while you can," Oreius instructed at one such stop, but the new bridge came crashing down before the two could sit, and once again they were off.

The longer they marched, the harder it grew harder not to picture Susan's breath stopping, her body dying by Lucy's side, wherever the Queens had found shelter. The spell could have been completed, and the Kings would never know until they returned and found their living—and dead—sisters. Edmund's hands grew cold at the thought.

At last, the mountain drew near. The chasms all ran to the mouth of a cave, joining each other to become one large rent in the earth. Peter settled his sword, glanced at his brother, back at his army to check their readiness, and then crept forward, keeping to the woods on one side. Edmund moved quietly at his side, an extra pickaxe in one hand. They slipped closer, and Edmund breathed out as he heard sounds inside.

The sounds of digging, of earth moving, and of rock clinking against rock.

The Telar were here. They were here, and by the sounds of it, the Kings were not too late. Edmund slipped inside the cave immediately after Peter, edging alone one side to avoid the deadly drop at his feet. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he frowned.

The Telar posted no guards; perhaps they felt they didn't need to. The cave opened from a narrow mouth into a wide space, becoming dark quickly, with only a few natural pillars, and in it, scattered far apart, were five Telar silhouettes digging, and one standing with his wings still, his head slightly bent, almost the pose of the still. His shoulders still rose and fell with his breathing, however, and Edmund's stomach clenched at the glint of gold in his hand. And there, in the middle, stood a Telar who was actually still, with moss covering her wings and shoulders. One stone hand stretched towards the mouth of the cave, thrown out in defense or attack. Probably attack, thought Edmund with a touch of fear. The chasm on the floor began at the end of her fingers.

He inched his way forward behind Peter, the Dwarves following so silently he had to glance back to see them. If the Telar weren't so preoccupied with their own digging, they would have surely seen the Narnians.

But there were only six. Surely they could get—

"Zedekah!" Edmund jumped as the Telar nearest the entrance snapped out the name, and he clenched his fingers more tightly around his weapon. "Zedekah!"

The Telar holding the crown shifted slightly.

"Zedekah!" This was it, Edmund thought, the time for battle. Finally. Only the Telar didn't turn their way.

"Jedehyah, wake him up!" the Telar insisted, and the Telar closest to Zedekah flew over and shook his shoulder.

"What?" Zedekah asked gruffly, shaking his wings.

"You cannot sleep! There are not enough of us now—we need you!" Edmund let his fingers slowly unclench as the Telar leader looked at the lines in the floor closest to him.

"Then this is taking too long," he rumbled. "Jedehyah, Sirrioth, Armenek, and you…" he blinked, slowly, wings moving back and forth as if to fan himself, to keep himself awake. "Kirreth, that's it, the four of you go and find the others." Peter sped up his pace, still hugging the wall and bringing them away from the entrance. He led them into the shadowed parts where there were no Telar-dug lines. "Bring them back, even Jumak if he's there. The sooner the lines are carved, the sooner it is finished." He blinked again, waiting. The four Telar set down their tools—Edmund biting his lip to keep his anger quiet at the sight of Sirrioth helping to kill one sister after saving the other—and flew out without another word. Edmund hoped the Bears and Centaurs were out of sight outside. "I will walk, to keep myself awake, Juddahum. But do not let me sleep." The Telar nearest them kept careful watch as his leader began walking towards the back of the cave, muttering, "Do not sleep. It is almost finished. It is almost done. I have almost done it." The crown was still in his hand. Edmund's sight narrowed down to that one thing, slender lines of gold in a large circle, half-hidden in large stone fingers.

Then Peter moved forward, working his way towards the Telar with his back to them. Edmund moved at his side, the Dwarves shuffling behind them. Once they were within striking range—Edmund had seen Dwarves throw pickaxes, and with their archer's aim and sturdy arms, they were good—Peter set his sword point down and spoke.

"Juddahum."

The healer whirled, taking a step back and raising his arm threateningly.

"Give me back my sister's crown."

"Or what?" the Telar asked warily, eyes flickering from Peter to the group of Dwarves he led.

"Or your life will end, right here and now."

Juddahum's eyes came back to Peter. "Do you really think that would matter?" he asked softly. "I do this for my daughter, and if I die in the attempt, my life for hers has always, always been a trade I would sell my soul for."

Peter's face hardened, and he raised his hand, the Dwarves raising their pickaxes as well.

But the High King did not let his arm fall, and Juddahum regarded him warily.

"Why haven't you called out?" Peter asked suddenly, voice breaking the stillness of the cave. "Your friends are not too far away, and Zedekah—is he so frail you do not want us near him?"
An expression of surprise swept over Juddahum's face, and then he laughed, a short, half-bitter laugh. "Zedekah could end you with one sweep of his arm. He chose, Boy and King, to spare all of you but one. No, I do not call because-" He halted. "I believe in what we're doing," he said, almost to himself. "I do. It must be done." But his eyes turned to Edmund, to the first sacrifice. "But I cannot make myself do it," he murmured. "I cannot stand here, with your eyes looking at me, and bring death on you. Can't you just give us this? For our young, for our future? Can't you see we don't have a choice?"

"There is always a choice." Edmund remembered other times, other choices he had made, and the way those choices had taken away his freedom to make any future choices. "And sometimes the choice lies between death or evil, but that is still a choice."

Juddahum looked at him, studying him. "I can't make that choice for my daughter," he whispered. "I—can't."

"Fools!" Zedekah's voice suddenly roared. "Idiot youths! You cannot stop my plan!" The Telar leader soared into view, his wings beating, fists clenched. "Juddahum! Carve the lines! I will deal with them!"

"Ware, my Kings!" came the call from outside, and then the sound of metal hitting stone. Edmund lifted his pickaxe, but he did not have the arms of the Dwarves, and three of those sailed past him, heading to the furious Telar. Juddahum looked up and jumped, flinging his wings wide, shielding the leader. Two pickaxes shattered both his arms, the third sailing over his wings, and he crashed to the cave floor.

"I will end you!" Zedekah bellowed, and swooped at Peter, who met him with his sword, three Dwaves rushing forward with their weapons raised. Edmund rushed past them, weapon ready, to where Juddahum lay. The large Telar looked over at him, and Edmund lowered his weapon.

"You can no longer dig. Go to your daughter, to spend what time she has left at her side." Juddahum looked from him to the Queen, to the crown still clenched in the dodging, fighting leader's fist. He looked at the floor, gathered his strength—Edmund tensed again—and flew out of the cave and up, over the mountain.

Edmund turned towards the Queen, taking a single step towards her. Could he do what Susan had done?

He never answered that question. A stone palm backhanded him into a pillar, and he slid to the floor, the cave going dark.

Both my kings were inside the cave, the life of their sister in their hands, and I would defend it. My hooves danced over the chasms, jumping farther than the two noble Bears who roared their defiance, and again and again my sword shattered the wings or arms of our enemies. I did not watch them fall into the chasms, focusing only on my next enemy.

Swing. Duck. Swing, backhand, overhand, and jump. A wing shattered there, another from his friend, and slowly the number of our enemies decreased.

But I had ducked and jumped far away from the entrance, and my human heart gave a solid thump when I realised some of the Telar had made it inside. I did not expect the Telar's reluctance to kill to last during battle.

"To the cave!" I ordered at the top of my lungs, and ducking under a Telar soldier, I ran for the mouth, jumping over the chasm and staggering a few steps inside.

Only to see one King facing four airborne Telar, five short Dwarves around him, and the other King laying against a pillar, his eyes closed.

No. They would not have a King and Queen; they would not have either one. I brought up my sword, ready to run to the High King's aid, when I saw her.

A statue, as still as any of the White Witch's had been, with green wings. The Bears rushed forward on either side, going to the High King's aid, and a Centaur rushed towards King Edmund, but I could not take my eyes away from the Telar Queen.

No. She was a victim, first of her own choices, yes, but then of the White Witch. I had no stomach to destroy her, and turned to the battle.

I ran up behind the battle, calling, "Telar!" Two turned, and I swung my sword, causing one to duck, and the other to dive at me. I swung my sword up, smiling as he fell for my feint, and sheared a stone leg off. A Bear smacked down the second Telar.

"Jumak!" the High King's voice thundered, and the legless Telar turned. I backed a step away, allowing the King this battle. If this beast stalked Queen Susan—I longed to fight for her myself, but it was the High King's right. "For the sake and safety of my sister, come to battle!"

I would have watched—watched over, some of the soldiers would say—but wingbeats behind me brought my attention back to the cave mouth. More Telar flew in.

There were at least twenty, and I prayed Aslan's blessing on my sword. The Dwarves could not help much if our enemies kept to the air, and there were no branches to force them down.

One of the Telar bellowed, the words grating on my ear, and half of the new Telar flew to the ground. The other half attacked, wings beating and arms swinging. I swung back with all my strength. One of the Bears went down, his roar of pain echoing in the cave, and I fought my way to him. Cut, swing, thrust, swing again, and he was up, still roaring. I glanced around in that split second and saw with a twisting stomach that half of the Telar ignored the battle, digging deep lines in the dirt with their large hands. I looked from them to the Dwarves, only to find them occupied by diving Telar, and the High King still fighting the one he had called Jumak. But the High King was a warrior born, and as I watched, he brought his sword hilt up just as the Telar dived, and the enemy's head shattered on the metal. I brought my sword up, ready to join the battle, only to stop at King Edmund's voice.

It was weak, filled with pain, and alarmed, and it was one I had trained myself to always hear.

"Stop him!"

I twisted and saw one of the Telar flying towards the Queen of the Telar, gold glinting in his fist.

A golden crown. One I had seen adorning the head of the Gentle Queen, unable to come off. The Telar was holding it towards the head of his own Queen.

Time slowed. My Queen's life, or allowing their Queen to be a murderer. Breathing a prayer, the single word of Aslan, I threw my sword.

I watched it spin, hilt then blade, heading towards the Queen, and prayed again I had done the right thing. The moment before the outstretched circlet touched her head, my sword hit the mossy wings. And I saw what my Gentle Queen had seen, the horror of a face and body crumbling at a touch. The Queen's head turned to pebbles before the crown ever touched it. All within the cave froze.

"Our Queen." The words came out a breathless moan, and Peter glanced over. It was Sirrioth, his hands stained with dirt from his digging. They fell to his sides, his wings coming to rest on his back. "Our Queen," he whispered again.

"NO!" roared Zedekah, and Sirrioth looked up at him.

"It is over," he rebuked wearily. "A Queen died, Zedekah, as you intended, and it was our own."

"I will save us! I have to save us!"

"You cannot." The words were resigned, the wings of the former helper slumping till their tips brushed the floor. Sirrioth looked towards Peter, ignoring the shattered remains of Jumak at the High King's feet. "It is the age of the children now. Our age is over." His wings came to rest on his back, and his head lowered, eyes down. A moment later, he was still.

Another Telar landed beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Sirrioth crumbled. "Farewell, friend of the young," the Telar whispered to the stones, and Peter's heart ached, for the soldier was shorter and smaller than the others, and Peter did not doubt Sirrioth had looked after this young soldier as well. His hands also fell to his sides, his wings coming to rest on his back, and he, too, grew still.

All around the cave, the Telar began landing, all but Zedekah. Their hands fell to their sides, their wings to their backs, and their eyes to the floor, defeat or resignation in their posture. One by one, they stopped breathing.

Back in Telmar, Juddahum landed by his daughter. The moss had crept onto another feather while he was away, and his heart began to break.

He could not save her now.

"I. Am. Their Saviour! I was born to save them!" Zedekah pleaded, his voice echoing around the cave. Under the force of its sound three more Telar crumbled, and Zedekah froze. He fell to the ground, barely catching himself in time. He looked around at his people. At the statues and stones that were all that was left.

"But...there is nothing to save." He looked at the pile of rubble at his feet, the pile that had once been his queen. He looked up at Peter. "Why must all of us fail?"

"All worlds, all nations, and all races draw to their end," Oreius offered quietly from near Edmund. "Those who do not follow Aslan fall sooner rather than later. Without Him, none can be saved."

"And that gave you reason to kill our Queen?" Zedekah growled, fury raising his wings.

"You made your Queen's death necessary."

Zedekah paused. He looked at the rubble at his feet, and reached a hand to touch it. "I wanted to save her most of all," he said softly. "I would have done anything to save her." He looked back up at Oreius. "You would do the same for them."

The General shook his head. "No," he responded. "I would not have done what you did." Zedekah looked at him, the bitterness fading as his face smoothed out.

"You will never know that, not unless some day you face a kingdom where they are gone," he whispered. His hands fell to his sides, and he let his last breath out with a sigh.

As he fell still, all the Telar in the cave crumbled.

Juddahum heard the sound of the Telar, all the ones Zedekah ruled, beginning to crumble, and if he could, he would have wept. He fell to his knees beside his daughter. He could not even touch her, for his healer's hands were gone. And as she began to crumble, he touched her with his head, laying it on her little shoulder, and breathing in the moss.

Father and daughter crumbled together.

OOOOO

*If you don't recognise that I'll confess myself surprised. Whatever I think of them in comparison to their books, I admit they were works of art.

A/N: So...this is my first real attempt at a tragedy. Would you mind telling me how I did? Truly; I want to know if this works, or if it's something I need a lot more practice on.