A/N: I may or may not update Thursday and Friday. One of my twins has to have a CT scan to rule out hydrocephalus or some other reason for her big head, so I'm going to be a bit of a basket-case Thursday. And I'm bogged with physical therapy Friday. Of course, that said, I might actually write MORE to get my mind off the negatives in my life at the moment…I hope this isn't too bad…obviously I'm not at my best emotionally.
A/N 2: This chapter has been revised and a scene added. Also, I've created a banner for this story. You can find it on my Photobucket account, just go to my profile page on here and at the end of the profile I'll include the link for you!
Part Six:
Edmund hadn't failed to notice his younger sister's frequent glances behind her, as if waiting for Peter to reappear and say he was just kidding and wasn't really going to go to Cair Paravel with just Caspian to watch his back. Each time she turned back, she had a small frown on her face.
"Sire," came a voice from behind the young King. "Behold, Aslan's How."
Edmund spun back around as they cleared the edge of the woods and his eyes widened. A large earthen hill with a massive stone entrance sat regally across an expanse of grassy field. Lucy gasped and Susan exchanged a look with her brother.
"It does look sturdy," she said, hefting the borrowed bow and arrow quiver on her back. Lucy nodded, still silent but with a small smile creeping up on her face. She started bouncing from foot to foot and Edmund took pity on her and moved the group forward.
Lining the depressed path that led into the How was a group of centaurs, young and old, each with a sword held erect forming an archway under which the three Pevensies solemnly walked. The rest of their number trailed quietly behind them.
Edmund was intercepted by the centaur Glenstorm, who pointed to each work station in the main chamber of the How and explained what was already underway to prepare for the upcoming battles.
Before the young man became too engrossed in what was being discussed, Susan called from a nearby darkened tunnel. "Ed! I think you'd better come see this," she said, holding a small torch aloft. Lucy was nodding emphatically behind her.
Glenstorm clopped along beside Edmund as the young King entered the tunnel and gazed upon the walls – each of which depicted a different piece of the Pevensie's history in Narnia. He lightly ran a finger over the image of the four of them standing before their thrones at Cair Paravel before turning to the centaur. "What is this place, Glenstorm?"
The warrior frowned, then hefted a torch and said, "Follow me, my liege, and I shall show you." He led them further into the dark tunnel until they entered what Edmund figured was a large chamber. In moments, the contents were revealed as Glenstorm lit up the room with a touch of his torch.
"Oh my!" Lucy exclaimed, clamping her hands to her mouth. "The Stone Table!"
The three Pevensies eyed the cracked table and Edmund cringed as memories of what Aslan had done for him sprung to mind. Lucy and Susan exchanged glances, both remembering the terrible sight they had witnessed on the table and Glenstorm watched all of them silently.
"This became a sort of shrine," Glenstorm said. "Not just to Aslan and his might, but also to the power of the Deep Magic. I had forgotten it was done after you had already left and not long before the Telmarines completely conquered Cair Paravel. Actually, it was the Faun Tumnus who felt it should be preserved and hidden from the invaders. It has remained untouched."
Edmund took an unsteady step forward and laid a hand on the edge of the table, gazing past it to the bas relief of Aslan carved into the wall beyond the table. He shivered as he imagined what it could have been like to be tied to the table and stabbed through the heart by the White Witch. He had come so close to that reality.
Peter and Oreius seemed to have things in hand and Edmund felt out of place standing there staring at them, so he excused himself quietly, feigning a need to find a bite to eat and promising to fetch something for Peter after he had finished.
Meandering through the encampment at this hour, he was surprised to find so many Narnians awake and alert, as if they had slept a full night.
Perhaps they don't need as many hours as a Human does, he thought to himself as he walked. To be honest, none of the Pevensies really knew much about the people they were about to risk their lives for. Wish I was that awake, he lamented, seeing one Faun doing an odd sort of jig to get his armor settled properly on his body.
Locating the same centaur who had provided them food the previous day, Edmund smiled at her and she nodded back, gesturing toward baskets of toast, fruit and other food.
Realizing he actually had very little appetite, he took only a few slices of toast for himself and grabbed a few for Peter. Deciding it was rather bland for his brother, he added a few pieces of fruit to the mix before snatching two drinks.
"Thank you," he said to the centaur.
"You are most welcome, sire," she replied, bowing lightly to the boy, who awkwardly returned it, trying not to drop or jostle any of the food and drink he held while he did it.
Balancing everything in his arms, he began the walk back to where he'd left Peter and Oreius outside Aslan's tent. As he rounded his and Peter's tent, he heard voices drift toward him.
"Aslan gave himself in his stead, I'm sure of it. There is no chance that this is treachery. Aslan is dead, sire. Your sisters must have caught him leaving camp last night and followed him."
The voice was Oreius' and Edmund paused, curious about the conversation and fearing if he were to appear, it might end. So he waited.
Peter's voice was strained. "I know it's true, Oreius. I know Aslan is dead. And deep down, I know he traded places with Edmund. Is it so wrong that I'm glad he did? Does that make me a horrible person?"
Edmund never heard Oreius' answer.
Aslan – dead because of me? He took my place on the Stone Table, the Witch didn't just give up her claim to my blood, she accepted another's in my place!
The young soon-to-be King realized he was no longer holding the two cups of water when he felt the now very wet tunic cold against his skin in the morning breeze.
He dropped the food next, in his scramble to get away. He needed to think. As he knocked into a tent post and tore it from the ground, he could hear Peter's voice calling out in confusion.
"Edmund? Is that you? Did you find food?"
Peter must have seen Edmund running because his voice turned to panic. "Ed!" he called out.
But the younger boy wouldn't stop. Couldn't. How could he face Peter when it was his fault that his older brother was being forced into the role of leader and would ride at the head of an Army?
How could he face any of the Narnians? They had lost their legendary King over all Kings to save the life of a worthless traitor who had nearly gotten his family killed over sweets. Surely they would hate him now?
True be told – he hated himself.
"Why Aslan? Why did you do it? Why not just let me die? What can I do for Narnia? I'm not a warrior, I'm not a King, I'm just a stupid little boy!"
He slumped to the ground beside a creek, unwittingly sitting in the same spot that Peter had killed Maugrim just the other day. As the water sloshed near him, the tears fell from his eyes.
"I want to go home!" He cried. "I don't belong here. All I've brought to Narnia is suffering and death. Please, I want to go home." He was whispering as he finished. Crawling on his hands and knees, he halted at the very edge of the water and looked down at his own reflection in the rippling stream.
Another reflection soon joined his and he closed his eyes and dropped his head. Peter.
"Edmund?" Peter said, sounding highly uncertain of himself. The brothers hadn't exactly been getting along these last few days.
Weeks.
Years, really.
My fault again, Edmund thought. I hurt everyone. Peter was just trying to help with Dad gone and I made him suffer at every turn with my attitude. Oh, how I wish I could take it all back. Turn back time and do it again.
"Edmund?" Peter gracefully lowered himself to his knees beside the younger boy, who still refused to look up. "You heard?"
With a short nod, and a barely restrained sob, Edmund shifted so he wasn't on hands and knees anymore. But he still wouldn't look up and meet Peter's eyes.
There was a sigh beside him as Peter settled back on the ground. "That isn't how I wanted you to find out, Ed," he said with sorrow. "I expected as much as soon as we were told Aslan was dead. I didn't want to believe it, but somehow, I just knew it was true."
Glancing out the corner of his eyes, Edmund swallowed the bile in his throat and shakily said, "But why would he do that, Peter?" His brother stiffened beside him, but Edmund kept going. "I'm not worth his life!"
Blonde head shaking, Peter grabbed Edmund's shoulders and wrenched them around so that the younger boy was forced to follow and face him.
Seeing Edmund's head still angled down, Peter, more gently now, took his chin and pushed it up. "Stop that," he said. "You're young. You made a mistake. Aslan wouldn't have done what he did if you weren't worth it. He doesn't strike me as one to make decisions lightly."
Tears leaked out of Edmund's eyes and Peter wasn't sure what to do. If it were Susan or Lucy, he would have drawn them into a hug already. But with Edmund, he was never sure what to do.
When the shaking started, he made his choice.
The hug was awkward, since neither boy was very used to such displays of affection. But it was exactly what they both needed right then.
"Edmund, I feel horrible for it, but I'm glad it wasn't you," Peter whispered. "I don't know what I would have done if it had to be you. I imagine I'd have tried to take you and run."
Edmund pulled away. "But Peter, Narnia needs you. You would have abandoned them for me?"
It was Peter's turn to cast his eyes downward. "I think I would have, Edmund," he said quietly. "I know we never really say it, or even really show it, but I love you and can't lose you. Not if I can help it."
Perhaps realizing they had enough to be worrying about prompted Peter's next comment. Whatever it was, Edmund was grateful for it because his brother managed to considerably lighten the mood.
"Oh, but Edmund," he said. "Please, next time you decide to accidentally join the wrong side. Don't pick one that sends wolves after your poor siblings. I nearly drowned in wolf fur after I killed Maugrim."
"You killed that beast?!" Edmund exclaimed. "Do explain, Peter. I hadn't heard…"
And just like that, the two soon-to-be Kings picked themselves up, put what was done behind them, and returned to the encampment – only hours away from the biggest battle of their young lives.
A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts and Lucy wrapped her arms around Edmund's middle. "When we see Aslan, I'm sure he'd tell you, he'd do it again for you, Ed."
Her brother smiled lightly and ruffled her hair, frowning when it wasn't as easy to do as it had been when she was eight. "Thanks, Lu. Sometimes it is still hard to accept that Aslan effectively died for me on this table."
Gathering his resolve, he shook off the melancholy and turned back to the waiting centaur. "Glenstorm? Let's have a look at the preparations that have been done so far. When King Peter and Prince Caspian return, I want everything to be running smoothly for them."
The centaur smiled and bowed, turning and leading the way back out of the chamber. Edmund nodded to his sisters, sensing they needed more time here, before quickly following the centaur out.
He heard his sisters murmuring to each other, the sounds growing less discernable as he and Glenstorm left the tunnel and reentered the main chamber. "Over here, we have been forging weapons. But we still are very underequipped. I am not certain we will have time to create enough to go around."
Edmund nodded as they moved on to the next area, where armor was being pieced together from whatever could be found. A couple of female centaurs were armed with heavy needles and were sewing together leather tunics at the next station.
The young King was impressed with the number of Narnians that had been found and had agreed to fight. But he knew it wasn't anything near the amount of soldiers the Telmarines could amass.
"Tell me, Glenstorm, how many of the Narnians assembled are actually soldiers and have real training?" Edmund asked as they ended their tour of the How.
They were fairly secluded here and the centaur, after looking around, sighed. "Unfortunately, not as many as I'd like my liege, but I am confident that they will all fight to the best of their ability – and coupled with sheer determination to regain what has been stolen from us, that is probably rather formidable."
Edmund nodded thoughtfully. "I know the power of determination," he said. "My brother and I hadn't much more than that at Beruna. But what does worry me is that no matter how much determination these beings may possess, without weapons, it will do little good."
He began pacing back and forth, well aware that the centaur was following his every move with interest. Running a hand through his hair, Edmund's head suddenly shot up and his eyes glistened with dangerous intent.
"I have an idea."
On the road to Cair Paravel…
"All right, that's it!"
Peter dropped the reins in his hand and leaned forward, resting against Realeza's neck. "I just can't do this anymore," he muttered into her mane, hoping Caspian hadn't heard him even though the Prince was only a few feet away. Raising his voice, he said, "We need to take a break. This isn't doing either of us any good."
Both young men were reeling with fatigue and pain. They had pushed themselves hard – probably too hard – in hopes of reaching Cair Paravel as soon as possible and finding Lucy's precious cordial. For all the times he had not wanted to use it in the past, Peter was finding this time he couldn't wait for the sweet relief of no pain after so long feeling it every day.
"We could use a shelter. It looks like it will rain," Caspian said, gaze locked on the storm clouds visible through the lessening tree cover. As they neared Cair Paravel and the sea, the trees had begun to thin. They would provide little in the way of cover if it should rain.
Peter frowned, also looking up. "It's been a while, but I seem to recall there being a cavern around here. Ed and I would often explore such things around the Cair. It should be close by, if my memory serves me." He slid off the horse, only to find himself immediately clenching his fists and gripping the horse's neck as his knees buckled beneath him. "Damn it," he muttered. "Not now."
Of course his legs wouldn't listen to him and he fell hard. Shaking his head in frustration, he flipped his hair back out of his eyes and met the concerned gaze of his companion. "I'm fine," he said shortly.
Caspian raised his good hand in surrender. "I didn't say a thing, Your Majesty," he said sagely. "I was merely going to ask if you planned to rest a bit before we search out this cave of yours."
Peter smiled ruefully and nodded. "Yeah, that's why I'm sitting here…"
He knew Caspian was not fooled, but he admired that he willingly went along with Peter's oh-so-obvious fib. The latter really didn't want to talk about his paralysis at the moment, though he supposed it was rather unfair to leave Caspian in the dark.
Caspian slid off Destrier and winced upon impact. "Oh that is no fun," he grumbled before joining Peter where the young King had fallen and was now leaning back against Realeza, who had actually laid down beside him.
"I wonder how Ed and the others are fairing," Peter said quietly, eyes roving the nearby forest and trying to determine what direction the cave he had mentioned could be found. He cringed suddenly and Caspian actually growled.
Peter looked up at the Prince and was momentarily taken aback by the look in the young man's eyes. "What?" He began, but Caspian was moving closer to him and had a look in his eyes very similar to the one Ed would get when he was in over-protective mode.
"You are in pain and I don't understand the reason. Why do you hide it from me? We are together in this and we are alone. Are you suddenly going to collapse unconscious on me?" Caspian was obviously in a great deal of pain himself, but he put it aside for the moment. "I do not pretend to understand what you tried to describe of your wound. But there must be more to it than a few-months-old sword wound."
With a sigh, Peter drew his right leg up as close to his chest as he could get it, frowning at the slight tremor still running through it. "I'm sorry, Caspian. I didn't want the Narnians to think their High King was weak." He looked up. "And I admit, I did not want you to see me as such either."
Grabbing a stick from the ground beside him, Peter proceeded to snap it into ever-increasingly smaller pieces. "I told you how I was taken to the healers and treated. What I didn't tell you was that the healer who cared for me was one of the enemy and that he had pretended I was one of their soldiers.
"It did take me months to heal, because the wounds got infected time and time again, but also because, and this is the part I want to stay between us Caspian – also because for a few weeks I couldn't move my legs, nor feel them."
He heard the sharp intake of breath from the Prince beside him and pressed on. "Obviously I got feeling and mobility back, but I've been very weak ever since. And as for the lingering pain in the wound itself…it was immensely difficult to get from the country where I fought to the country where I lived. It was separated by much land and water."
He looked up now, meeting Caspian's gaze. "I didn't want to relay how bad it had been, and in some regards still is, so please don't speak of it."
Caspian nodded. "I will not. And I thank you for sharing this information with me, King Peter." He took hold of Peter's hand and pried the small, remaining piece of twig from his death-grip, frowning at the small grooves the sharp end had cut into Peter's hand. "And you've nothing to be worried about, because no one will think you weak. Not after what I saw before."
Peter looked up at him in confusion. "What do you mean? They'll look at me and say, 'King Peter can barely walk without wobbling.' Some legend I turned out to be, eh?" He sighed and leaned heavily into Realeza's flank.
He was surprised when Caspian chuckled lightly, though it sort of trailed off into a strangled groan by the time he was finished. "Somehow, I don't think that'll be the case," he said. "They'll be too busy wondering just how fast you really can wield your sword. That's what I was thinking…how I'm glad I'm on this side, not that of the Telmarines. And once we find your royal sister's cordial, we'll see just what you can do."
Peter smiled. "I think I needed that," he said, "the reassurance. Naturally my brother and sisters tell me such things all the time, but it's different to hear it from a stranger." He reconsidered, then added, "Though, after what we've been through now I don't think we count as strangers."
Looking up, he frowned. "Here, let me see that again." He reached forward and began to examine the arrow wounds on Caspian's shoulder. As he worked, he realized he'd told the prince a lot about himself, and it was time for a little reciprocation.
"Caspian?" he asked. "Where'd you learn to fight as you do? I was very impressed when we first met and during our little battle. It's different from what I learned, but no less effective."
The young man, wound rebound and throbbing mercilessly, leaned back now and turned to his companion. "I learned from General Glozelle. If this war does happen, which I'm sure it will, you shall likely see him, if not meet him in combat. He is the best swordsman the Telmarines have and taught me everything I know."
Caspian sighed. "It wasn't easy training, I know I ended up with more bruises and cuts than a normal kid falling out of trees would have, but I'm rather glad I did learn so well. I'm only using one blade, but I actually favor two."
"Oh, so does Edmund!" Peter said, finding another parallel between his brother and Caspian besides the dark hair and fierce loyalty. "How hard is that to learn? I mean, I've always used my shield, so I've little experience in that."
While they rested against the horses, the young High King and the Prince regaled each other with tales of weapons training and got to know one another a little better. Peter couldn't help but realize how good a ruler Caspian would turn out to be, and while it did bother him slightly to know he wouldn't be needed if he should have to leave Narnia again, it gave him a sense of relief that his beloved country would be in good hands if he left.
The Ford at Beruna …
"There, that one," Edmund held a spyglass toward Glenstorm. "I think that ought to do for our needs." The centaur took the glass and looked through it before nodding in agreement.
Edmund rose slowly and, under cover of darkness, crept toward the wagon holding all sorts of forged weapons. It would more than equip the remaining Narnians at the How and was relatively unguarded. The young King stealthy approached the first guard and made quick work of him.
The next two were equally as easy to take out, but the fourth was wide awake and had a hand on his sword. He would need to be careful with this one. So, pulling out the little boy in him, he approached, short sword lashed to his back and hidden from view.
"Sir," he said quietly. "I'm looking for my father. Carpesian. Have you seen him?"
The man cocked his head to the side. "Carpesian, you say? I've not heard of him, let alone seen him," he replied, hand tightening on the sword. "What are you doing here anyway? This is a restricted area."
Edmund feigned surprise. "Oh, sorry, didn't know." He smiled now, being close enough for his attack, and with a swift move, he spun, pulled the sword from his back and took down the man before he had a chance to so much as twitch. "Well, actually I did know and don't really care…"
He gestured for Glenstorm and a few fauns who had accompanied him to the Telmarine encampment. Inwardly, he thought how incensed Peter would be that he had gone into enemy territory without him. But then again, Peter had gone into the unknown as well, so he wasn't one to talk this time.
"Quickly," Edmund said to the Narnians. "And be quiet!"
The fauns hooked Glenstorm up to the wagon and then took hold of ropes themselves to begin hauling the cart away. Edmund watched warily, twitching anxiously every time the wagon made even the slightest creak.
Thankfully, no one appeared. Edmund was about to leave when he paused and quirked his lips into a small grin. He stooped and picked up a chalk-white stone by his feet and turned around, searching.
"That'll do," he muttered to himself, turning the stone over in his hands and finding a sharp edge. He sidled up to the nearest weapon-laden wagon and quickly wrote a few words onto the wooden door.
For a moment, he contemplated signing it with his own name, but then he realized the Telmarines had suppressed history and wouldn't recognize it. So instead, he slashed a hasty "X" at the bottom and hurried off to join Glenstorm and the fauns for the trip back to the How.
A/N: Any special requests for the next chapter? I sometimes like to try and oblige people's desires, so if you have something you are just DYING to see in the next chapter, let me know and I'll see what I can do. No promises, of course.