A/N: Extra long chapter for you this time. :) Hope you'll enjoy it! Please leave a review and let me know :)

Once more realismandromance has done a wondeful beta-job which is highly appreciated!

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A couple of days went by, all of them passing in the same way as the first; they were woken early, given a drink of water and sent to the forest to labour; afterwards, they went back to their hut, where they were fed the same unpleasant, stinking mix of leftover food. Every other day, they were also given a chance to wash at the creek.

After a while, Peter became increasingly worried that the lack of proper food might turn into a real problem very soon. Malnourished as they all were, the High King wondered for how long they would be able to make it through the day's work without breaking down.

At least, he thought one evening, as he tried to chew an especially stringy piece of meat, I am able to keep the stuff down.

Which was more than could be said about Edmund on most days.

Peter's thoughts were roughly interrupted when the door was unlocked and in came Enzomian, wearing a nasty grin that stretched from one ear to the other. Behind him were two men Peter had not seen before.

Enzomian pointed at the kings and said curtly, "Those two. The humans."

"Yes, my lord," said the two men.

Before he knew it, Peter felt a strong grip on his arm pulling him to his feet. Next to him, Edmund was also yanked upright.

Enzomian led them out of the shed and through the village to a place by the side of the small creek, where a few more of the foreigners had gathered together. They were sitting on simple wooden stools that circled a fire, and looked at Narnia's kings expectantly. Peter saw Cescian and Diteros among them as he and Edmund were pushed to the middle of the circle.

"I'm sorry I haven't yet had the time to make sure you were properly entertained," said Enzomian. "But, I'm intending to make up for it tonight."

Peter felt as if it were more likely to be the other way around; he and Edmund were to entertain them. But, for now, both kings remained silent. Glancing over in the flickering firelight, Peter could see that Edmund was chewing on his bottom lip, no doubt having some hot-headed reply in mind and holding it back with difficulty.

In the past few days, poor Edmund had again been everyone's favourite target for any kind of taunting and mockery. Diteros, the youth who was barely more than a boy himself, had especially taken great pleasure in pestering Peter's younger brother. It was hardly bearable for Peter to watch, especially when he was certain that – thanks to endless training sessions and all the tricks Alroy had taught him – Edmund could probably wrestle Diteros down in a matter of minutes, should he get the chance.

Enzomian spoke up again. "I heard you're both kings of a place called Narnia … what does that make you? A very unnatural kind of couple?"

"We're brothers," said Peter, through gritted teeth.

"Really?" Enzomian raised his thick dark brows. "Brothers, eh? You don't look like brothers to me. And, if so, I still don't understand why that makes you both kings."

"Things are different in Narnia from what you may know," Peter explained, keeping his voice calm. "Narnia is very special."

This made their captor and his men snort and roar with laughter.

"All right, then." Enzomian finally picked up the conversation again. "I still find that strange and hard to believe … but, fine. Still, I keep wondering why it's him who has command over you and your soldiers" – he stood up, walked over and gave Edmund a hard shove, making him stumble sideways a few steps – "when it's quite clear he's barely more than a little boy."

As Peter watched, his anger became harder and harder to suppress. But he forced himself to remain focused. "You'd be surprised."

Enzomian had a wide grin on his face that bared his yellow teeth and – in the flickering light of the fire – gave his face an oddly distorted look. "Well, I think I should like to be surprised," he said. "Show me your abilities, both of you." A wicked glint came to his eyes. "Fight against each other."

"We don't have any weapons," said Edmund, his voice low and composed. He sounded perfectly unemotional, but Peter knew that his brother was boiling inside.

Enzomian roared with laughter as he replied, "Nice try, young one. No, we certainly won't give you any ... but you can wrestle."

"No," said Peter, without even thinking. These men had already taken too much of their dignity; he wasn't going to fight his brother as entertainment for them. He turned to meet Edmund's gaze and was surprised to see that there was a tiny grin tugging at the corners of his brother's mouth.

"Ed?" he asked, eyebrows drawing together. "You're not planning to comply, are you?"

"Well, I've always wanted to knock you onto your backside," said Edmund, his grin widening. His eyes, however, were staring at Peter with their usual graveness, and it was only then that Peter realised.

Come on, dafty – don't you get it? This might be a chance to create some uproar, and if we manage to grab hold of some of their weapons … well, we might not get a better chance for a while yet.

Understanding, Peter did his best to grin back at his brother. "Ok … come here, then, if you think you can knock me down."

"I'll go easy on you, brother," said Edmund with a sarcastic smile, as he launched himself at Peter.

The last time the two brothers had wrestled each other must have been some years ago, when Edmund had been still too small to stand a chance against his big brother. And, of course, all the tricks he had learned were no help against Peter, because Peter knew them all.

Now, Peter found that he couldn't beat his little brother as easily as before. Although Edmund was still the smaller of the two, Peter was honestly surprised at the strength his brother had, especially if he considered what they had gone through these past few days – all the hard labour, meagre food and short uncomfortable nights.

They fought for a while, steadily drawing nearer to the man called Cescian, but pretending to not realise it. In truth, Cescian had been well chosen, and it had needed nothing more than a bit of eye contact between the brothers to agree on that. Cescian was obviously the eldest of those gathered around them, and he made a weaker impression than the rest.

He was also armed with daggers strapped to his belt on either side of his torso.

When the kings were close enough, both Peter and Edmund suddenly launched themselves at the elder man, and while Peter grabbed hold of Cescian, his brother yanked both daggers from the belt and cut the man's throat with one quick smooth move. The moment Peter let go of the bleeding body, the old man fell to the ground, holding his neck and making his last, gurgling, sounds.

There was no time to regret the loss of a life; the other men had also pulled their daggers.

No words were needed between the two kings as they each turned, now armed, to the man closest to them and fought.

Without the longer reach of a sword, the fight turned into something of a peculiar dance, and Peter found himself struggling as he tried to thrust his dagger into his opponent's chest, while keeping his own body away from the other one's blade at the same time. He had the advantage of being slimmer and quicker, but his opponent was strong and probably had not been starved for the course of several days.

Knowing that it wouldn't be long before more of the inhabitants of this settlement heard fighting and came out of their huts to help their people, Peter decided to risk everything. He threw himself at his opponent with all his weight, narrowly dodging the other's dagger. The blade cut into his oversized leather tunic, but it didn't even graze his skin. However, Peter's own weapon cut into the man's throat and opened his main artery, making him die the same terrible death as Cescian had, barely a few minutes before.

Peter turned to see what Edmund was doing. The younger king had taken on Diteros, who was now lying in a bloodied heap at Edmund's feet – severely wounded but not dead.

That probably just serves him right, thought Peter, and seeing a chance to slip past the remaining men – hoping they would be fast enough – the High King whispered, "Run!"

And they ran.

X

They ran until their lungs were burning and breathing became painful. Edmund found himself involuntarily reminded of a very unpleasant flight he had once had to make from the house of a giant family when he had been eleven years old. Back then, though, he had been much smaller and he hadn't been used to such exertion.

Now, after years of constant physical training, he had built up much more stamina and had become rather fast. Not yet fast enough to keep up with Peter, whose longer legs gave him an advantage, but certainly fast enough to increase the distance between himself and their pursuers.

Thank Aslan – the men had fallen behind a good bit.

Not knowing what else to do, the kings followed the creek, stumbling alongside the flowing water as best as they could. It was dark, and when he turned, Edmund could only just make out the silhouettes of their pursuers in the moonlight. They seemed determined to catch up, but they were all older than him and Peter. Their aggression might have made them dangerous, but the kings had what counted more in this situation: the advantages of youth. Speed. Agility. Endurance.

Edmund was almost enjoying the run, despite the burning pain in his lungs. He felt free. He would get back to Narnia and return with Oreius and the army, get his subjects out of there and –

A rustling noise, followed by a muttered curse, caught his attention.

"Oof!"

Edmund realised that Peter was no longer running by his side.

"Pete? Are you all right?"

"Yes," came a hiss from behind Edmund. "I just stumbled. Blasted rocks lying about ..."

Edmund grinned to himself, knowing well that Peter could not see his amusement in the darkness.

"Being a bit clumsy, brother mine?" he asked innocently.

"Shut up, Ed," grumbled Peter.

Edmund bit back a snicker, then cautiously walked back to where Peter had just rearranged himself into a sitting position. "Do you reckon we're still being followed?"

They both listened. But, apart from their own laboured breathing and the gurgling sound of water running down the creek, they didn't hear anything.

"Maybe they gave up on catching us," Peter muttered. "Although, it seems unlikely. They know that if we get back to Narnia safely, we'll come back with a whole army in tow. And we'll know where to find them."

"So, that means that even if they did give up for now, they'll be after us tomorrow with all of their forces."

"Probably."

"So, we'll have to get as far as we can tonight," Edmund concluded.

"At least far enough to get a sufficient head start," agreed Peter. "We can hide ourselves in the rocks we saw beyond the meadow, just a couple more miles from here. In the plain open, we'll be spotted as soon as the sun dawns."

"Well, let's go, then. Up you get."

Peter got to his feet, moving a little awkwardly, which Edmund noted with concern.

"Are you hurt?"

"Well, I'll have a few bruises, thank you very much ... but other than that, no harm was done."

They went on much more cautiously, no longer running at top speed, but alternating between a swift walk and an easy jog. They allowed themselves a few breaks to drink some water, and after a while, they finally reached the area where the creek started winding through a rockier part of the mountains.

Now, the way became more difficult, especially because it was night. The pale moonlight didn't allow for them to properly see where they put their feet, and after a while, Peter finally sighed.

"It's no good, Ed. We need to stop here for the night before one of us stumbles and breaks a leg."

Edmund briefly considered arguing, but he knew Peter was right. They would need an hour or two of sleep.

There was a short discussion between the two brothers on who should rest initially and who should watch, but it didn't take Edmund as long as he had feared to make Peter accept that he should be first.

Part of Edmund knew that it was not a good sign; Peter must be still affected by his recent illness if he was giving in so easily. Worriedly, he watched as his brother got settled, his back propped against solid stone, and soon started snoring softly.

As the night passed by, the moon disappeared behind thick clouds and the air became moist. The place they had chosen to spend the night was sheltered from wind, but it wasn't a cave, and when a light drizzle set in, it became most unpleasant.

Edmund wondered if he had become used to freezing by now – if so, it was obviously not enough. Cautiously, so as to not wake Peter, he scrambled closer to his brother for warmth. It was already past the time that he should have wakened him, but he didn't have the heart to do that just yet. Instead, he tried his best to keep his mind busy and stay alert until the morning dawned.

X

Peter woke with a start, realising that there was already a faint morning glow in the sky. He sat up straight, his back aching slightly, his eyes in search for his brother.

But he was alone. Where was Edmund? In an instant, Peter was on his feet, eyes darting around. He didn't dare call out, not knowing where their pursuers might be. Had they found them? But if so, why would they just take his brother and leave him?

"Edmund?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

No answer.

Peter was getting nervous. Subconsciously, he moved his hand to where he had stuck the dagger into his belt, but it was gone as well.

"Come on, Ed, this isn't funny," he grumbled, as he started moving around. It was still very early, and the sun wasn't up yet.

Peter climbed up the ledge beyond which they had settled down at night, but there he saw only the creek gurgling downhill and a couple of small bushes. No sign of Edmund.

Just you wait until I get my hands on you, Peter thought.

It was only now that he noticed the drizzle. The sky was, for the first time in days, heavily overcast, and Peter realised that he was soaked. Cold, too. Hugging himself, he settled back down to where he had spent the night and started thinking.

What now?

Suddenly, something hit his head from above. It was a pebble. Peter picked it up and stared at it, puzzled. Where had that come from?

Sure enough, another tiny little stone hit him, this time falling right into his lap. Drawing his brows together, Peter got up, steadying himself against the rock. Another pebble came flying, but missed him this time. Then he heard a familiar snicker.

"Edmund!"

The snicker turned into full-on laughter, and a pale face appeared behind another ledge, which Peter had only a minute ago believed to be part of a wall of solid rock.

"Just making sure you didn't get too comfortable, you lazy bugger."

If there was one thing that Peter cherished and despised at the same time about his brother, it was his sense of humour that would pop up at the most unlikely moments. But he also admired it, for he didn't know where Edmund took it from, especially when it was obvious that he was totally worn out. His face, pale even on a good day, was nearly white, and his eyes were red and shadowed with fatigue.

Peter also couldn't remember when either of them had last eaten a full meal.

"Where have you been?" he scolded, but gently.

Edmund smirked, climbing over the ledge and holding out his hand. "Finding us some breakfast."

A few wild berries lay on his palm, and he offered them to Peter. "And keep your shirt on – if anybody came, I'd have been there to rescue you," he added smugly.

"You did take my dagger, didn't you? That's the least you could have done. But why didn't you wake me?"

Edmund chuckled. "You've never needed that beauty sleep of yours more than now ... I didn't dare interrupt it."

Peter snorted and swatted him on the arm. "In that case, you should look in the mirror before making such compliments."

Edmund rolled his eyes.

Peter took the berries and tried them. Sour, but better than nothing. "Have you eaten some yourself?" he asked.

Edmund nodded. "Yes." He patted his middle with a sardonic smile. "Delicious."

At that, they both allowed themselves a moment of easy laughter before Peter finally sobered up enough to remind Edmund that it was time to move on.

The High King didn't like that his brother would be going on without having had any sleep at all, but it couldn't be helped. The longer they waited, the higher the risk of being caught would be. So, they resumed to following the creek, hoping but not knowing for sure (because the sky was so overcast) that they were still headed east.

The weather did not improve, and both kings were wet through from the drizzle, with no chance of getting dry any time soon. Peter's hands were so cold that they felt numb, and he wondered if he would even be able to whirl his dagger, should they be attacked.

Around noon, the flowing of the water suddenly sped up, rushing more steeply downhill, and then the creek finally ended in a waterfall at a steep cliff.

They stood on the edge, staring downwards. Down below them, the waterfall ended in a pool, and from there on, flowed on into a thick forest leading towards a lake with a pretty clearing by its side. Peter recognized the place at once – they stood about a hundred yards above Farford.

A hundred yards away from sweet Narnia, with no chance of reaching it – or so it seemed.

At least, climbing down didn't seem like an option to him. There was little to hold onto on the rock wall, and the stones were all wet. They would end up breaking their necks if they tried.

Peter cast a look at Edmund, and noticed that his brother had the same longing in his eyes that the High King felt. "How do we get down?"

Peter shrugged. "We need to walk along the edge – see if we can find the way through the gorge that brought us up here."

Edmund looked unconvinced. "That must be miles away ... remember? We needed almost two full days to get to that plateau."

"I know," said Peter, through gritted teeth. "What else do you suggest?"

Edmund didn't answer right away; he chewed on his bottom lip, staring down the side of the cliff pensively until Peter began to realise what he was thinking.

"You're not considering climbing down, are you?"

"It would be the fastest way. And I don't think they would follow us."

"How can you be sure?"

Edmund shrugged. "They're old blimps; I don't suppose they could do it!"

Scratching the back of his head, Peter gave his brother a sceptical look. "Even if you're right, what if they are already on their way through the gorge to wait for us down there?"

Edmund gave him a grim look. "We'll have to be quick." He pointed at a ledge about five yards below, then at another one which was a little further down. "We need to take it step by step, but we can do it."

Peter shook his head. "You must be crazy, brother mine."

Edmund smirked. "Thought you might say something like that." He rolled up his shirt sleeves. "I'll go first. You can watch me and make sure you put your clumsy feet where I put mine."

There were still a lot of things that Peter was better at than his little brother; however, climbing was not one of them – not on a good day and most certainly not now, with his hands stiff from the cold and his whole body shaking. He tried to follow every one of Edmund's movements, but couldn't help being slower.

They made their way down from one ledge to the next, always about five to ten yards between each. Secretly, Peter admired Edmund's skill, for his younger brother always seemed to find the right places to put his feet and hands. Peter himself almost slipped and nearly lost his grip more than once.

They had made it more than halfway down when Peter saw a movement above them from the corner of his eye. Glancing up, he saw Enzomian peering over the edge, about fifty yards above.

"Edmund, look up!"

His brother stopped mid-climb, looking up, and nodded grimly. "Yes, I saw them. They've been there for a couple of minutes, probably debating whether they should follow us this way."

"Do you reckon they'll try?"

"No, don't think so. Anyway, it's just a little further." He pointed at another ledge; this one was about twenty yards above the pool at the bottom. "From there on, we can jump the last bit. Even if Enzomian tries to go after us this way – and I shouldn't advise him to – he'll never be fast enough to reach us in time."

The smug look on his brother's face made Peter want to laugh and scold him at the same time. But instead, he just concentrated on climbing and keeping his footing. The idea of jumping down the last twenty yards, however, did not agree with him.

When they reached said ledge, he hesitated. "Are you sure the water is deep enough?"

"Positive," said Edmund. "When we passed the pool on our way up, I remember thinking how it reminded me of our trip to Terebinthia, two years ago. Remember?"

Peter did remember. After four days' worth of diplomatic meetings with the four Terebinthian Lords, each followed by formal banquets in the evenings, the four siblings had, on their very last day, spent a few relaxing hours in Terebintha's mountains. There had been a small creek where they bathed and enjoyed the hot sun on their skin, and Edmund and Lucy had taken to climbing the rocks and jumping down where the water pooled deep enough. Susan had not liked it, and neither had Peter, but both had known that if they said anything, it would do nothing but encourage their younger siblings to find even higher heights to jump from.

Now, Peter found himself at a height he did not want to jump from at all, but Edmund was insisting. "Go, Peter! Otherwise, I'll push you. Go!"

And Peter jumped.

XXX

TBC