A/N - Hello again my sweet pickles!
-shrugs- I'm sick and sore, I've nearly all but lost my voice, and every time I speak I sound like a goose on crack, so I decided to put another chapter up.

Its the shortest one yet, because I'm still editing the next bit. Its all a bit too cheesy for me. :/
As changeling child kindly informed me, GLOZELLE is Miraz's army general, not Glozelle. I researched a bit and found that she(or he) was exactly right. So I'm going to have to edit out all of the mistakes. If you catch the name "Glozelle" in here anywhere Glozelle should be, or in any of the chapters, please do tell me where so I can fix it.
Thank you dear readers for your reviews and your time. I'm not the best Narnia Fic writer ever, so please bear with me as I learn to become a better author. ^^
Oh. And um, in my story in several parts, I have ideas in here that were originally Elecktrum's, like the name of Edmund's sword, for example. So I do not take any ideas that were hers as my own - they all belong to her, I'm merely using them because they were freaking brilliant. :P
So if you haven't read Elecktrum yet, please do so and let yourself be overwhelmed by the torrent of awesomeness that totally beats my own by a long-shot.
And P.S. Does it look like I'm C.S. Lewis? No. Am I as brilliant as C.S. Lewis? No. If I were C.S. Lewis, would I be on fanfiction? No. I don't own anything but this stupid chestcold, so don't sue.

Climbing over castle walls is much harder than it looks.

I slowly make my way up, numb fingers gripping at the cold stone as I reach for another, hoping, praying to get over the wall and on the other side before anyone notices me. The winds whip at my hair and I pause for a moment, breathing hard, dagger between my teeth. Funny, how this is always the way it happens in those books back in England. The hero is captured, he escapes, but to escape he scales the wall, dagger between his teeth, and then he rides on to freedom.

Right now, I couldn't have felt less like a hero as I stifle a sneeze, continuing to climb. That water had been cold. I shivered, thankful that the moon was hiding her face behind the clouds. It was pretty stupid of me, really, to have attempted an escape so soon after an unexpected attack by the Narnians, but it was going to be my one and only chance, if any.

The black expanse of sky stretched on above me, seemingly empty as black clouds obscured the stars and heavenly lights. I breathed out a sigh past the knife, reaching for the next handhold.

Killing two completely unaware soldiers back in the dungeons had not been my high moment of glory, and I still felt slightly guilty about killing them before they had had a chance to react or defend themselves, but it was over, and I needed to move on. I reached my hand up and caught the edge of the wall, pulling myself up, and I looked over. The wall jutted steeply downwards where it met with dark stone below, a sixty feet drop. It was a long, tedious climb down, but I had to risk it. I vaulted over the side nimbly and caught myself on the other, using the very edges of the stones as footing as I slid down, stone by stone. I dearly hoped the shouts that the two soldiers had let out before I had killed them hadn't attracted anyone, and it seemed that it hadn't, as I was still here and not dead already. Adrenaline pounded through my veins as I got nearer to the ground, and I could hardly believe my luck as I landed on the solid stone, completely whole and alive. I blinked, staying to the shadows before darting off towards the other side of the dark courtyard, completely unseen.

And then the moon came out.

I grimaced, diving for the nearest shadow as the moon spilled her light out onto the bloody courtyard, littered with still figures of Narnians and Telmarines alike. I was repulsed. They were going to prolong the burial of the many who were slain in their very castle until the morning? With a disgusted attitude, I sidled along the wall, peering around the corner cautiously, watching intently. The gate was there, and it could be opened with a little bit of pick-locking. I darted off toward it and made it successfully, unable to believe my fortune this night. I was just about to insert the dagger into the large lock before I heard footsteps. I spun around, ready to face the Telmarine, his sword, my dagger.

Glozelle stepped out into the light, arms crossed, expression hard. I cursed inwardly, backing myself up against the gate.

"I thought I heard a rat."

"Maybe you should have checked to see if it was just one of your men."

"Do not patronize me," He warned, drawing closer and laying a hand on his sword. "It would be most unwise, as you are currently in the wrong, here."

"I'm supposed to sit by like a good little captive and wait for Miraz to kill me sooner rather than later, then?" I asked hotly, gripping my dagger tighter.

"I never said that," He argued, expression softening a bit. "You don't have to die, you know...all you have to do is co-operate and give us the names and location of the Narnian rebels, and you keep your life."

"How would I spend it, then?" I asked coolly, but inside I was roaring with rage at his proposal. How dense did he think we really were? Or had he been taught that way? "I don't know about you, but I'd sooner choose death rather than a lifetime of living with the knowledge that I killed the entire Narnian race to make way for the Telmarine tyrant."

Once had been one time too many. It wasn't going to happen again.

"Do not speak about your king that way, boy," He spat, anger beginning to make him look a bit mad in the head.

"Am I? Aslan is my true king, and so is He yours, whether you choose to believe it or not. Miraz is only chaff on the wind, but Aslan is forever, eternal and living, like spring after a long winter, and He will come back; and when He does, you best be ready."

I hardly even felt the cold steel set to my throat, so angered was I by his careless words.

"Tell that to your king." I whispered with all the ferocity I could muster as he pressed his sword against my throat, and I could have sworn I felt blood trickle down my neck.

A slight spasm crossed his face, and I vaguely realised he had me pinned against the wall as he glared with all the fiery wrath he possessed within him.

"If you will have it, Peter, so be it."

And I felt myself fall into darkness's ready arms as I had so many times before, as Glozelle slammed me over the head with his sword handle.

I was in trouble.

Critique helps a writer know, thus helping the writer grow.
Read and review, please. ^^ I know you're out there.