A/N: Hi everyone – are you still with me? If so, leave a review and let me know! :)

I know this chapter took a while, but it's finally finished and edited (many, many thanks again to Realismandromance), and I'm already working on the next two :)

XXX

For a while, they all just stood still and silent, staring down at the dead dwarf. No one dared say a word, not even their captors. But, too soon, Enzomian became impatient, and he raised his sword to threaten Edmund and make him move on.

Edmund was making his way up the climbing path, shaking with suppressed emotions. Watching worriedly, Peter knelt down at the edge and held out his hand to help. Never before had he seen Edmund look that unsteady at climbing. And the abyss looked all the more dangerous after what they had just witnessed.

It felt like forever until the High King finally caught hold of his brother's hand and pulled him over the edge. Waiting for Enzomian and the last of his men to join them, the two kings stood silently side by side, not looking at each other or speaking, but offering comfort merely through their presence.

Peter put a hand on Edmund's shoulder, squeezing it gently, while he made no secret of his own tears that clouded his vision and ran down his cheeks as he blinked them away. They had already lost lives the day before, but having to watch a Narnian soldier being killed by one of their own was something different entirely.

Later, as they moved on in uncomfortable silence, Peter kept glancing over at his younger brother. Edmund walked beside him, stony-faced and solemn, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. As Peter had expected, Edmund wasn't allowing himself to grieve openly – not now, and not in this company. But the High King knew his brother was suffering just as much as he himself was, if not more.

They were forced to move steadily uphill for another few very unpleasant hours. Finally, late in the afternoon, their way led them through another tunnel, only this one was much longer than the first. Upon entering it, Enzomian made his men bind their captives' hands once more; he was obviously afraid of what the Narnians might do if their hands were free in the darkness of the tunnel.

When they came out on the other side, they found themselves in a wide meadow that covered a plateau and was surrounded by steep cliffs. The lower parts of these cliffs were overgrown with trees, and the meadow itself was sprinkled with colourfully blossoming late summer flowers.

Beyond the mountaintops ahead of them, the sun was sinking low. It cast long shadows behind them, and told Peter that they were now headed west and a little south. It had been difficult to tell when they were in the canyon, as the space between the rocks was generally too narrow to see where the sun was. After a while, Peter also became aware of a small creek; beyond it, he could see a few wooden huts.

"Hurry up," barked Enzomian.

By the time the sun had just disappeared behind the highest mountaintops, they had completed crossing the creek via a small dam. However, it was still bright enough for Peter to have a good look around.

Despite the late hour, the settlement was busy; several women were by the creek, maybe washing their laundry or fetching water to drink or cook with. A small fenced-in paddock off to the side housed a few skinny-looking mountains goats, and beyond it, there was a large fruit and vegetable garden. Counting the wooden huts that he could see, Peter estimated that the settlement housed maybe up to forty families, some of whom were now missing a member or two, seeing as several of Enzomian's men had died by the Narnian army's weapons.

Peter couldn't help feeling sorry for the women, but it had been Enzomian and his men who had attacked. If they had come to Narnia in peace and with diplomatic intentions, Peter thought, they would have been invited to discuss trading agreements or even negotiate about having some land of their own where they could build another settlement. Life in Narnia's rich forests could only be easier than up here in the mountains.

But, instead, Enzomian and his men had waited in hiding, attacked the Narnians and taken them prisoners.

Peter still wondered why. His best guess was that they wanted the Narnians to work for them as slaves. Additionally, Peter and Edmund were valuable hostages to them, being the kings of Narnia. Somehow, though, Peter doubted that Enzomian had fully realised that yet.

The captives were led to the shabbiest of all huts; it looked more like a shed or stable than a place where humans were supposed to live – and it wasn't furnished, either. Inside, there was merely a haystack in the far corner. The hay was wet and mouldy; Peter could smell it all the way from where he was standing by the now locked door.

Soon after their arrival, the door was unlocked once more, and another group of Narnians were shoved inside; two black dwarfs – Aisikke and Ehmi by name, if Peter wasn't mistaken – and a group of around ten fauns and satyrs.

Peter realised that these had to be the missing citizens who had caused the whole party to set off to the western parts of Narnia. So, they had found them … but what did it matter, now that they were captured themselves?

After everybody had told their stories, Peter, Edmund, Carron and Roak held a small council away from the group.

"We need to get at least one of us out," said Carron. "Someone who can make it back into Narnia and fetch the cavalry, lead them here." He fixed his eyes on Edmund – who was, after all, still in charge of the mission.

"I agree with you," said Edmund, nodding grimly.

Peter gazed over at his little brother, thinking that he was still worryingly unemotional. Not a single tear he had shed yet – not for the life of his friend, tutor and military advisor, Alroy, and not for any of the others they had lost along the way. It concerned Peter, but he was determined not to bring it up. Not yet. They had to stay focused on the task of finding a way out of this mess.

"I'm the fastest, so my suggestion would be for myself to go," suggested Roak. "Although, of course, I would hate to leave you all behind. But it's the most logical choice, and I daresay that you, my Kings, will be far safer here than out on the run."

"He's right, Majesties," agreed Carron. "My guess is that the worst for you here would be to work on the fields and in the gardens, or help finish that new hut that we saw down by the creek. That should be sufficiently safe ... always assuming, of course, that none of us will oppose these men's orders."

When he turned his head, Peter wasn't surprised to find a distinct look of dissatisfaction on Edmund's face. He could sympathise. He also didn't like that they would have to sit tight and wait, but had to admit that he saw sense in Roak's suggestion.

"He's right, Ed," he said, nudging his brother in the side with his elbow. "Neither of us should go. When the chance arrives, let the lieutenant make an escape and fetch the cavalry."

Edmund hesitated, but just when Peter was sure he was going to object, his brother heaved a deep, weary sigh and nodded in agreement.

X

It was very late in the evening when the door to the shed was unlocked once more. A wiry woman carrying two buckets stepped inside and, without a word, thrust both buckets at Edmund, who was nearest to the door.

Once again, he had positioned himself a little away from the rest after their council was through. He knew that it concerned Peter; he could practically feel his brother's stare boring into his back. But he just couldn't bear the elder's affections now. Not when he was in charge and responsible for all the lives inside this shed. He couldn't afford to become distracted.

Sniffing at one of the buckets and then looking in carefully, Edmund was very nearly sick. Inside, there was a most unappealing mix of nearly rotten, unpleasant-smelling meat – probably goat meat – and chunks of old bread mixed up with something slobbery that looked like porridge. The other bucket, thankfully, was filled with cool, fresh water.

After setting both buckets down, Edmund knelt in front of the one with water in it. Using both hands, he scooped up some of the liquid and drank it greedily. Then he took a little more and splashed it over his face, rubbing off some of the grime and dust from the day.

After he was done, Edmund stood up and carried the pots to the back of the hut, where the others had gathered together. He quietly set down the buckets, then went back to the door, where he sat on the ground and pulled his legs up close, hugging them tightly to try and keep himself warm as best as he could.

As expected, sleep eluded him that night. He sat for a long time, listening to his soldiers' and subjects' even breathing, and brooded over the recent events.

Peter would probably not agree, but Edmund could not help blaming himself for the situation they were in. Every decision along the way had been his, especially that fatal one to visit Farford with such a small company.

Why hadn't he taken Skygrace's report about humans having been seen around Farford more seriously? If he had, Alroy might still be alive and Edmund might not have had to witness his head being chopped off and his blood seeping into the soil at that beautiful place, back in sweet Narnia.

"Ed?"

It was Peter. Cautious in the darkness of the shed, Narnia's magnificent High King came scuttling over on all fours. Edmund could only just make out his outline.

"Peter, you're supposed to be asleep," he whispered.

"So are you." Settling himself next to his brother, Peter sighed deeply. "Instead, you're probably brooding again ... beating yourself up with guilt, aren't you?"

Edmund merely let out a low grunt, which was neither confirmation nor denial.

"I know how you feel, Ed … but it isn't your fault that we're here now."

"Shut up, Peter."

"I'm just saying," Peter continued stubbornly, "that I am responsible for any of this as much as you are. I've been a horrible advisor so far … but neither of us could have known what lay in wait at the lake. And we'll make it out of here soon, won't we?"

When Edmund again offered no reply, Peter poked his brother's upper arm gently with his finger.

"Won't we, Ed?" he repeated, a little more pronounced.

"We must," said Edmund. As he shifted a little to get more comfortable, he felt Peter edge yet a little closer, and then his brother's arm snuck around his tense shoulders, pulling Edmund tightly towards him.

Despite himself, Edmund couldn't quite suppress a grin, though the darkness hid it. Part of him wanted to wriggle out of Peter's embrace, but a much larger part secretly enjoyed the comfort it brought. And it probably makes it all easier for the old dafty, Edmund thought.

Not long after that, Narnia's Just King finally fell asleep, his head resting comfortably in the crook of his brother's neck.

X

The next day began early. This time it was a young man, about Peter's age, who barged in, carrying a fresh bucket of water for the prisoners. He kicked Peter in the shin to wake him up.

But Peter was awake already. Just before the boy – for he wasn't really much more than that – could kick Edmund as well, Narnia's High King sat up and sent a glare at the youth, saying, "No need to deal out further pleasantries; I'll have them all awake in five minutes."

The youth glanced down at him, dark eyebrows raised. Then he shrugged and kicked Edmund in the side anyway, chuckling at Peter's furious expression. "See to it that everybody is up when I return. Then I'll show you where you'll be working today."

He walked out, and when he returned several minutes later, Peter and Edmund had woken everybody and they were all standing by the door, waiting with solemn expressions on their faces.

Smirking scornfully, the youth told them, "I will be in charge today. You'll do everything I say. And – most importantly – you won't speak. Not to me and not to each other, are we clear?" He directed his hard stare at the dwarf Ehmi, who avoided his eyes by looking down at the ground, making Peter wonder what punishment he might already have had to endure. "If you don't obey my rules, you'll become acquainted with our whip, and everybody here shall enjoy watching." He came a little closer to Peter, sniffed and pulled a face. "And, just so you know … you smell."

Yes, and no wonder, Peter thought. After exertion of walking uphill for almost two full days without getting a chance to wash – for lack of break and lack of water – he expected nothing else but to be rather smelly. He opened his mouth to retort, but the youth glared at him before he could.

"Ah-ah-ah, what did I just say? You're not to speak. Now, get going, all of you! There will be a chance to wash up at the creek once your day's work is done."

The said 'day's work' was to bring in wood for a new hut which was to be built. Peter, Edmund, Carron and the other fauns and satyrs were ordered to go into the nearby forest west of the settlement, cut down trees and chop the wood into smaller pieces. Roak, the cheetah, was brought along as well, tied to a small cart, which was no doubt meant for carrying back the wood later. The dwarfs, however, their strength and endurance obviously underestimated because of their small heights, were placed to work in the gardens.

The young man led the group of Narnians to a place where many tree stumps bore witness to the fact that Enzomian's people had been cutting down trees for a while. The group was also accompanied by two older-looking foreigners. From their conversation, Peter gathered the information that their names were Pau and Cescian and the youth was named Diteros.

The three of them mostly just oversaw their slaves' work, but also took turns in helping cut down the trees. Around noon, though, they enjoyed a small break, sitting comfortably by a fire on which a pot of something was cooking. Peter couldn't help glancing over. At the faint smell of food, his stomach protested loudly against being left out; all they had been given by Diteros that morning was a bucket of water.

Even for that, Peter would have been grateful now. After working hard all morning, his mouth was dry and his tongue seemed to be sticking to it. He knew that if this carried on for another few days, he would soon suffer from dehydration.

He shot a glance at Edmund. His brother was busy chopping up large pieces of wood. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and he had rid himself of his doublet and rolled his shirt sleeves up. When he sensed Peter's eyes on him, Edmund looked up from his work and their eyes met. Their captors were adamant about not letting them speak to each other, but Peter didn't need to speak to Edmund to know that his brother was having the same thoughts.

How do we get Roak out so that we can flee from here?

They had been given axes to chop the wood with. Armed with those, Peter knew they might be able to overwhelm the three men. But there was nowhere to go from here. Steep, inaccessible cliffs surrounded the forest; the safest way back to Narnia (without becoming lost in the mountains, where canyons or other insurmountable obstacles could come in the way) was to follow the creek that flowed eastward. But, to reach that, one had to pass the settlement, which was full of men who were ready to stop anyone who tried.

All afternoon, Peter kept brooding, but didn't come up with a satisfying solution

By the time the three men ended their work schedule for the day, the High King of Narnia felt faint with hunger and exhaustion. More than ever, he needed to wash; he could barely endure his own sweaty smell. As they crossed the settlement, headed for the creek, the sun was almost down. And the evening chill was much more pronounced up here in the mountains than it had been down in the woods of Narnia.

Sweet Narnia …

How could they reach it? Staring at the creek as it wound its way, parting the meadow until it disappeared somewhere between the rocks a couple of miles away, Peter let out a deep sigh.

How could they reach their home?

"Peter?" His brother's voice interrupted his thoughts, making him look up. "Aren't you going to wash?"

Standing knee-deep in the water, his breeches rolled up and shirt off, shivering in the autumn breeze, Edmund was looking at Peter expectantly. He even grinned a little. "I am not going to sit near you tonight if you don't get rid of that smell, you know ..."

Peter let out a laugh and bent down to take off his boots and socks and roll up his own trouser legs. When he stepped into the water, he almost let out a rather undignified shriek; it was ice-cold. Carefully, he waded further in, then unlaced his shirt, pulled it off and threw on the grass. He knew he would have to wash his clothes at some point, too. But right now, the thought of having nothing but cold wet clothes when he got back to spend the night in the cold shed was unbearable.

He drank to his heart's content, then rinsed himself thoroughly before he waded back and pulled his clothes back on.

Accompanied by Diteros and Cescian, the Narnians were brought back and locked up again. Food, along with some more water, had already been provided. It was the same, smelly, unappealing mix of old meat, dry bread and slimy porridge as they had had the day before. Of course, Peter was hungry enough to eat anything.

While chewing, albeit with difficulty, Peter made it a point to watch his brother closely until he had seen him eat at least a few bites as well. The High King hadn't mentioned it, but he knew full well that Edmund hadn't touched any of the food last night. And considering that they hadn't been offered anything else all day, Peter was sure that there wouldn't be any other choice but to try and get down as much of this as they could.

They had to get out this mess very, very soon.

XXX

TBC