A/N: No updates on my daughter. Perhaps next chapter…and hopefully good. This is a long one, perhaps you ought to get a drink, a bite to eat, etc., before you start!
A/N 2: This chapter has been slightly revised.
Part Ten:
Lucy hovered just outside the chamber where the war council had been discussing final preparations for the raid later that night. She bounced from foot to foot as the various commanders filed out, itching to speak to her eldest brother.
The boy in question came out of the room next, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair. "Peter!" the young Queen called out. "Can I talk to you?" She saw Edmund coming out behind the High King and added, "Alone?"
Edmund, after glancing once at Peter, who nodded in agreement, turned down the corridor and headed away from Peter and Lucy. "What did you want to talk about, Lucy? Did you need help with the gryphon attack or something?"
He started walking off toward his makeshift pallet in a secluded corner of the main chamber. Lucy hurried behind him and before he could reach his spot, she turned him down the tunnel leading to the Stone Table.
"Lu!" he protested, pulling away from her grasp but continuing in the direction she had steered him. "What's this all about? Why are you practically manhandling me?"
She snorted. "This isn't manhandling Peter," she said with a laugh. "This is called dragging my older brother off to try and talk some sense into him. Again." She pushed him lightly so that he was standing in front of the Stone Table, looking toward the relief of Aslan carved into the wall beyond.
Lucy could feel her brother stiffen again. "Lucy, we already decided we can't wait for Aslan. If the Telmarines attack us here, we aren't going to be able to hold them off or defeat them. The numbers just don't work out."
She stepped in front of him. "Peter, why don't you believe Aslan can help us? I really think we just have to go out and look for him and he could turn the tide in our favor! Why are you so bent on doing this all yourself for some reason?"
Her brother stepped around her and ran his fingers along the edge of the Stone Table. "I think we have to do this on our own, not my own, because you are the only one who thinks they saw Aslan. We can't place all these peoples' lives on what you thought you saw, Lu."
The youngest Queen bristled at that. "I know what I saw Peter Pevensie, and I saw Aslan. I don't think I saw him, I saw him." Hurt that he had all but said she had imagined seeing the great Lion, Lucy continued without really thinking. "Make no mistake, if you do this, the failure will be on your head, Peter."
Still fuming, and afraid she would say even worse things if she stayed, Lucy stalked off down the corridor in which she had found the painting of Tumnus and Aslan, leaving Peter gaping in her wake.
He could feel himself trembling at her words. He was already insecure with the idea that the raid was a huge risk, but he and the others couldn't come up with anything better in the time they had. Was he really risking their lives for a plan doomed to fail?
Peter slumped onto the old steps leading up to the cracked table. He shifted until he was looking at the Lion's visage on the wall. "Why can't you just give me a sign?" he asked, anger lacing his words. "I don't want to do this alone, Aslan. I would love to have your help. But I can't just sit here and wait for you if I don't have some sort of sign that you are coming."
There was nothing forthcoming. No stirring in the stillness of the cavern, no whispering in his ears or hope flaming in his heart. The only thing he felt was trepidation that his sister might be right.
Standing, he swallowed his worries and cemented one thought in his head. "We'll capture Miraz and force this campaign to an end, if it's the last thing I do," he said with quiet resolve.
The slight figure of his sister, hidden in shadow, swallowed back tears and watched Peter stride with purpose out of the room. She half wanted to call him back and apologize for her words. But the hurt was still too near and she let him go. She would talk to him when he returned. Because he would. He always did. It was just a matter of how many of the others would return with him.
Susan strapped the bracer on her forearm and adjusted it to the correct position. Behind her, Lucy was fiddling with her bottle of cordial and was frowning one of the deepest frowns the elder sister had ever seen on her sister's young face.
"Lu, whatever is wrong? You aren't yourself," Susan said, releasing the bracer once it was settled and turning to Lucy. "Please, don't be like this, Lucy. We are going into a very risky battle, you don't want to leave things unsaid."
Lucy looked up at her dark-haired sister and her eyes softened. "You're right," she said. "I don't want to leave things unsaid. I have to find Peter." She leaned forward and grabbed her sister into a big hug. "Be careful, Su. Take care of those wayward brothers of ours as best you can, too."
Susan smiled. "As always, Lucy."
The youngest Pevensie turned on her heel and flew from the chamber toward the entrance of the How where her brothers were assembling the warriors that would participate in the night raid of the Telmarine castle.
It had been decided to leave as many behind as was feasible, in case things went poorly. They didn't want to leave the How emptied of combatants if it were to be attacked. Just beyond the entrance, she spied Peter. His dark-red leather tunic and black pants set him apart from the various other warriors wearing heavier chainmail and bits of metal armor.
She hurried up to him and he turned toward her, his lips forming a tight line, but not a smile nor a frown, just a neutral expression. "Lucy," he said by way of greeting, inclining his head toward her.
With a small gulp, she hesitated now that she was facing her brother. Frustration at his lack of faith in her still simmering under the surface, instead of saying what she had intended to, she blurted out, "I do wish you'd reconsider, Peter."
Her brother's lips now did form a frown and he backed up a step. "I don't have time for this, Lucy. What is decided is decided and there will be no reconsideration. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure Glenstorm is set to go."
Peter turned around to leave, intending to hurry away and hide the disappointment in his face, but Lucy's voice halted him mid stride. "I, I, I," she hissed. "If it wasn't for me finding the wardrobe, and believing in Narnia, you wouldn't be here, nor would you be High King. Remember that, brother mine."
She turned and hurried away, leaving Peter gaping yet again. Why was she being so cruel? Why was she forcing him to doubt himself on the verge of battle? Did she care so little for him? He cast the thought aside. Of course she cared for him, she was just strong in her convictions and a little too dependant on Aslan, he thought to himself as he sighed and checked up on the centaur general.
Edmund, who had overheard his youngest sister's outburst, frowned at the back of Peter's head. He could tell how the young Queen's words were proving a distraction to Peter and he knew he had to try and curtail it now.
"Peter, can I talk to you for a moment?" he said.
Peter almost rolled his eyes. "You're not going to try to tell me to reconsider and wait for Aslan too, are you? Because I just don't think I can handle anymore lack of faith in my ability to lead, Ed."
The dark-haired King grabbed Peter's shoulder and hauled him off to the side, away from prying ears. "She was angry, Peter, she didn't mean what she said," he told his brother. "I'm sure she knows you're doing all that you can here. Lucy has always been so full of faith that Aslan can save us all from everything. You have to cut her some slack, she's a child again, Peter."
The blonde Pevensie looked up at his brother, seemingly seeing him for the first time. "If you want to go in that vein, Ed, so are you. You're only 13. I'm only 16. We're all children. Am I really making the right choice, here?"
Ed looked Peter in the eyes and firmly stated, "You are making the only choice available to you, Peter. I want to believe Lucy, I really do, but I understand that while she might have seen Aslan, he isn't here and we will have a superior army on our doorstep in a few short days at most."
Laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, he added, "You mustn't let this get to you, Peter. I'll not lose you in this battle because you're mired in distracting, depressing thoughts. Put it behind you and deal with it when we return. Hopefully victorious, of course."
Peter managed a small smile and patted Ed on the arm. "Thanks, Ed. I needed that. You're right, I can't let myself dwell on this. We have a battle to win."
The two brothers turned and took up their positions beside Susan and Caspian at the head of the invasion force. They would take to the skies closer to the castle, but for now would ride with the bulk of the troops.
Peter couldn't help but cast a glance backwards as they drew away from the How. He spied his youngest sister standing where the sentries normally stood guard, atop a ledge above the entrance of the How.
Don't look up, don't look up.
Edmund clenched his fist around one of his swords as the gryphon carrying him swooped closer and closer to the tower. The guard atop the tower was pacing back and forth, eyes trained on the ground outside the castle and thankfully not on the sky where Peter, Caspian, Edmund, Susan and Trumpkin were being carried by gryphons to various towers.
It fell on Edmund to remain on this particular tower, the highest of the castle, where he would use his flashlight to signal to the troops when the gates were opened and they should advance.
With one well-placed swing, he took out the solitary guard and the gryphon released his grip on the boy, letting him drop the three feet to the stone tower. Edmund hit the ground as lightly as he could and paused, listening to be sure there was no one coming, before he turned his gaze skyward and watched the other gryphons deposit his comrades into position.
It had begun.
Peter hit the ground and immediately unsheathed Rhindon, dispensing quick death to the two guards who rounded the corner he, Susan and Caspian had just been dropped off beside.
"Where are your professor's quarters, Caspian? We haven't much time." Susan pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it onto her bowstring, ready to fire off a shot at the first sign of trouble.
The Telmarine prince, dressed in black armor, was difficult to see in the dark of night, but they saw him nod and point to their right. "Just this way," he said quietly, taking off at a light run down the corridor.
He turned a corner into a dimly lit chamber, filled to capacity with all sorts of books and artifacts of forgotten or past times. In one corner stood a cylindrical globe of the world, in another a case full of old bits of Telmarine armor.
Open on the desk, however, was what interested Caspian and the two Pevensies.
"It's us," Susan said, reached down and fingering the colored page in the open book, which depicted the four Pevensies riding two horses – Susan with Edmund and Lucy with Peter. The eldest Pevensie felt a pang of remorse as he saw the joy on his and his sister's face in the painting, then remembered the pained expression she had given him before storming off not long ago.
Caspian's face was set in a firm scowl. "They must have taken him to the dungeons. Somehow, Miraz must have found out he was telling me of the Narnians. I have to go and get him."
Peter looked up at that. "No, you're needed at the gates, Caspian. We don't have time."
Susan glared at her brother and Caspian's gaze could have cowed a weaker man. "If it weren't for him, I would be dead. And even if by some chance I had survived, you would never have been called. I owe him this much, King Peter."
He turned on his heel and left the room, and Peter and Susan exchanged glances. Peter, who was angry that things were already deviating from the well-thought-out plan, released a harsh breath and turned away from the book.
"We should find Miraz," he said. "Someone has to stick to their task or this is going to fall down around our ears." He didn't wait for Susan's response, just turned and hurried out into the corridor, eyes peeled for Telmarine soldiers.
With an exasperated sigh, Susan rolled her eyes and hurried after her brother. From a brief conversation with Edmund, she knew that Peter and Lucy had been at odds when they left, so her younger brother had asked her to keep an eye on the High King.
She had promised to do so and hurried after him to keep her word.
"Peter, wait," she hissed as she caught up with him. "Don't go storming off alone! We need to stick together like we planned. Now, if I remember Caspian's directions right, Miraz's chamber is this way." She pointed toward a dimly lit corridor on their left. "Let's move."
Together, sister and brother crept through the corridors as fast as they dared.
He knew he should be getting to the gates now that his task to free Doctor Cornelius was completed, but his mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only – the truth. He needed to know, he needed to hear it from Miraz himself. With that goal at the forefront, he forgot all else that rode on him and hurried along the mostly unused and unknown passages between the dungeons and Miraz's chambers.
As he crept quickly along in the dark, his mind recalled all the times his uncle had lamented the loss of his brother. "The nerve," he muttered as he rounded a corner. His father had died when he was very young, but Caspian still remembered him and cherished what few memories he had.
He reached the end of the corridor and pushed open the intricate gate in front of him. It was much like the passage he had escaped down when his uncle tried to murder him. Miraz and his wife Prunaprismia were fast asleep in bed. Caspian, incensed even further by seeing this man peacefully asleep when he had so callously ended a man's life and tried to end another's, pulled his sword from its sheath.
As soon as it drew close to Miraz's throat, the older man's eyes shot open and his gaze fell on Caspian. The latter fairly growled out, "Get up."
While he had no qualms about seeking revenge against this murderer, he did have a problem doing so with Miraz unarmed. He wasn't about to simply kill him in bed. That would make him like the man and he couldn't allow that.
Instead, as Miraz stood, he ground out, "I want the truth. Did you kill him?"
He was momentarily distracted by Miraz's smirk. "Now we get to it," the man said, edging away from the bed. Caspian was so focused on his uncle, he failed to notice his aunt pull a crossbow from above the bed. When he saw her aim it at him, he didn't bother to flinch or pay it much heed.
Just as he was about to speak again, the door to the bedroom flung open and Peter and Susan fairly tumbled in, obviously having heard Caspian's voice coming from inside and perhaps thinking he'd been captured.
The prince's focus shifted to them for a moment. He could see the anger in King Peter's eyes. They were already on unsteady footing after his suggestion in the war council, and he could tell this would probably break their fledgling friendship entirely. But he had to know.
"Caspian, you're supposed to be at the gates," Peter spat, anger and a healthy dose of trepidation lining his voice. "What's the point of a plan if no one follows it?" He held Rhindon firmly before him and Susan trained her arrow on Prunaprismia.
For a moment, Caspian wavered, realizing just how much he had actually strayed from the plan both in rescuing the professor and now in the name of revenge. But he just couldn't let this go. All the anger and hurt and fear he had felt since the arrows struck his bed that night came to the forefront and he clenched his teeth.
"No!" He nearly shouted. "No. I want the truth and I want it now." He leaned forward, pushing the blade even closer to his uncle's tender throat. "Did you kill my father?" There, the question was out. And he didn't need a verbal answer either because the look in Miraz's eyes was answer enough.
Caspian felt a surge of anger jolt through him and he barely heard Queen Susan's voice telling him this wouldn't make it better, nor right. Peter's angry voice had little effect on him either.
"Stop this," he heard the High King call out. "Caspian, this isn't the way to go about it. I know you're angry. I was angry when I battled the same enemy that had killed my father, but this isn't going to make it better. It'll only haunt you later. Please, back away and let us get back to the plan."
"Damn the plan!" Caspian shouted, causing Peter and Susan to wince. "He killed my father! Killed him in his sleep. An unarmed man."
Susan inched closer, never lowering her bow. "Caspian. Put the sword down."
Her plea was echoed by Prunaprismia, who also hadn't lowered her weapon. "I don't want to do this, Caspian," she warned, but her finger was slowly squeezing the crossbow trigger anyway.
Miraz fired off the one thing that would sway his wife. "Do it, Prunaprismia. If not for me, for our son. Do you want him to be king and never want for anything? Or do you want him to be like Caspian here? Fatherless?"
The woman flinched and as she did so, the arrow released and struck Caspian in the upper arm. He cried out and dropped his sword, giving Miraz the opportunity to launch himself out onto the balcony and cry out an alarm.
Peter swore under his breath, so angry at Caspian now that he didn't stop to check if the young prince was all right before hauling him up to his feet. "Get to the gate and get it open," he called out. "Don't even think of responding with anything but 'yes' Caspian."
The tone of voice left no room for argument and Susan even backed away from her brother, such was his anger. It wasn't something she was often witness to, but when it did rear its ugly head, it was truly frightening. And with what Lucy had said at the How, it was a wonder he had lasted this long without breaking.
"Susan, go with him," Peter suddenly added. She made to shake her head, but the motion was abruptly cut off when the chamber suddenly flooded with soldiers. Peter shoved his sister out the door after Caspian, who had ripped the arrow from his shoulder and seemed to be in complete shock over what he had done.
"I…King Peter," he began, his voice holding a strong note of apology. "I'm…"
"Save it," Peter said fiercely, swinging Rhindon in a graceful arc that ended the life of the Telmarine who had attacked him. "If we hope to salvage this, we have to get the other Narnians in here and now. Move it."
Susan was about to argue that it was pointless, but they were quickly overwhelmed by more soldiers and she found herself and Caspian separated from Peter. Knowing he had given her an order, she found herself unwilling to ignore it and dragged Caspian away to the gate.
King Peter. He snorted as he swung another vicious blow with Rhindon, only to have to reverse the direction soon after and plunge the sword toward another incoming Telmarine. There seemed to be no end to the flow of men. Some High King I am, I can't even keep a few people to a simple plan. Lucy was right, this was doomed to fail from the start.
He dodged a strike from his right and neatly sidestepped when a Telmarine arched his sword straight down at the top of Peter's head. He heard the clang as the follow-through sent the man's sword crashing into the ground where Peter had been.
Peter knew he had to get out of here. He had to help in the courtyard where he could hear the sounds of a fierce battle playing out. It was all his fault, after all, just like Lucy had told him it would be.
The young High King was so consumed by his self-loathing that he missed a stout Telmarine approaching from behind him, a heavy mace gripped in his hands. The man wound up for a mighty swing and let it loose toward the young King's exposed back, but just before he hit Peter, the young man moved and the blow lost much of its force.
Still, the impact was more than enough.
Peter let out a loud shout at the fiery pain as the mace slammed into him and tore into the tender flesh of his back. His legs suddenly lurched beneath him and his heart leapt into his throat as they began to tremble.
It was a familiar feeling and before he could stop himself, he was remembering the horror of lying in a hospital bed in the middle of enemy territory – staring at legs that should have been moving, but weren't.
The distraction his memories caused left him vulnerable to attack and a Telmarine took advantage of that moment, swinging his sword swiftly toward Peter's mid-section. There was a shout from down the corridor, which saved Peter from being cut totally in half, but didn't save him from a slice from left hip to right.
Bending forward, Peter pressed a shaking hand to his middle and drew it away. It was coated with sticky red blood and as he looked at it, everything else seemed to slow down. The noise of battle dulled to a murmur. The clash of swords and the frantic shouts of someone he knew, but at the moment didn't recognize, were barely whispers.
For a moment he could almost feel the rain as it had been that day in Greece, hitting him, drenching him and nearly drowning him as he clutched another wound in much the same place.
"King Peter!"
He was startled from his memories when a hand fell on his shoulder with nearly enough force to knock him to the ground. Frightened eyes met Peter's own tormented ones and above the roaring in his ears, Peter heard Caspian calling out, "King Peter! Peter, you must move!"
The High King gave no sign he had heard and Caspian, not knowing what else to do, smacked him just hard enough to knock his head a little to the side. "King Peter, come back to your senses before we are both killed! You are stronger than your memories. Remember how you told me there is strength in facing them? Now show me!"
Peter's eyes shifted from unfocused to sharp, like bits of steel. "Caspian," he whispered, realizing he couldn't remember the other man arriving. Turning to his surroundings, he found they stood in the midst of a veritable sea of dead and dying Telmarines.
He flinched when, for a moment, the armor shifted to muddy German uniforms and the swords to rifles with bayonets. A blink later and the soldiers were once again clad and armed as Telmarines should be.
Caspian was still gripping his shoulder. "What's happening?" Peter asked, shaking himself further from his shock.
The prince frowned. "The campaign is lost, sire, and I will apologize for my behavior and faults later, but now we must retreat before it is too late. The gate will not stay open much longer."
Peter took an unsteady step forward and winced as pain flared in both his back and front. "Damn it," he muttered. Caspian steadied him as they hurried through the corridor and out into the courtyard.
Susan, nearby atop Glenstorm, let out a shaky sigh of relief at seeing Peter on his own two feet. The bloody mess of his leather tunic didn't escape her and she sucked in a pained breath when she saw his face scrunch in pain as he swung Rhindon awkwardly and took out an advancing soldier.
From atop a nearby walkway, Edmund too spied his ailing brother and a frown marred his face. "Oh Peter, why is it always you?" he muttered as he spied a man about to fire a crossbow at Susan and Glenstorm. "Oh no you don't," he said, vaulting onto the angled roof below him and sliding down into the man, knocking him from his perch to the ground below.
Peter looked up at the crash and saw Edmund. His eyes widened like saucers and he shouted frantically, "Ed!"
The call was just in time because if Edmund had lingered another moment, he'd have been sporting a dozen arrows protruding from his body. Instead, he launched himself through a nearby door and kicked it closed behind him, letting the wood take the brunt of the blows, though one did squeak through and tear into his forearm.
With a pained gasp, he clutched the wound, but also hurried to his feet and out the next door onto – a tower roof with no outlet. Slamming the door shut, he turned round and round, the sounds of fevered battle assaulting his ears. No way off this roof but the way he'd come.
The door burst open and Edmund moved back toward the edge of the tower. He looked behind him, just to see how far he'd be falling to his death, when he spotted his one hope. And smiled. Looking back at the soldiers, he toppled backward and landed with an ungraceful thud on the back of the gryphon Calmimus.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard…
"Caspian, the gates!" Peter shouted, adrenaline the only reason he could even stand at this point. He gestured toward where Miraz was directing men to shoot at a minotaur valiantly holding up the falling metal gate.
The prince turned toward the exit and shouted to all nearby Narnians to retreat before it was too late. A horse and rider, followed by two riderless horses, suddenly drew up beside Caspian.
"My prince, quickly now," Doctor Cornelius said, casting a glance up at Miraz on his balcony above the battle. The old man also threw his gaze to the blonde boy fighting beside Caspian and sucked in a breath. It was the High King of Narnia himself, right here before him, and he couldn't even properly greet him, being in the midst of battle and all.
Caspian fairly flung himself up onto the saddle, calling out "King Peter, quickly," as he went. Peter turned toward him, running through yet another soldier as he did, and spied the extra horse.
Then he turned to the gate and watched as an arrow hit the minotaur in the forearm, lodging there. The minotaur roared and his grip on the gate wavered, but he still clung to it. Peter expanded his gaze to take in the large number of Narnians still trying to reach the gates and escape. And he made up his mind.
"Go," he shouted, taking the reins of the horse being offered to him, but not mounting. Instead, Peter ran alongside the horse, scooping up a shield as he went, and when he reached the gates, urged the horse through, but quickly tied it so it would wait just beyond out of the line of fire.
Then he turned back toward the courtyard, ignoring the sounds of Susan screaming for him to come now. He let out a loud call for the Narnians to retreat and then positioned himself in front of the minotaur, Rhindon in one hand, the shield in the other.
He deflected as many arrows away from the minotaur as he could and swung Rhindon with a strength he didn't think he ought to have, but strangely enough still did. As the Narnians in the courtyard streamed past him, he let out a pained smile.
This disaster was his fault anyway, so it was only fitting he be the last to leave.
He was weakening fast and he knew it, but he wasn't going to give up. He would stand here until the last standing Narnian had passed through that gate before he turned and retreated himself.
Caspian watched in shock as Peter stood before the wavering minotaur and began to deflect arrows and fend off attackers, allowing Narnians to escape through the gate. It was in that moment he understood the true meaning of strength. It wasn't just a physical strength, which it was obvious the High King must have, but more importantly it was the strength of his spirit.
He knew he had shown little strength of spirit both with his suggestion to use his uncle's son as leverage and with the desire to seek revenge on Miraz – which probably sealed the fate of this failed raid.
Watching Peter now, he realized this is what they meant when they called Peter "the Magnificent." And then and there he resolved that he would try to embody even a fraction of that strength of spirit from this moment on.
Peter felt his legs tremble even more fiercely than ever before and he knew this was the end of his endurance. Thankfully, it was also the moment the last Narnian ran through the gate.
"Go now," the minotaur grunted. "I'm finished, my King. But I thank you for helping my sacrifice save even more lives."
Tears of pain and sorrow filled Peter's eyes as he dragged himself atop the horse and watched the minotaur fall under the weight of the gate. He cast one last look at the Narnian dead and shed more tears for them as he turned the horse and jumped the widening gap between freedom and death.
As he rode, shaking and weakening, all he could think was my fault.
And as he reached the How later, drained, bleeding and nearly delirious with pain, he realized his legs were rather numb now, not really trembling anymore. With a frown, he readjusted his grip on the reins so he could dismount.
Sliding carefully, he managed to get his legs below him and slipped to the ground. To his immense surprise, he landed on his side with a cry before he even realized his legs had hit the ground. Pain flared through his body so strongly that it stole his breath for a moment. Edmund instantly appeared at his side, with Susan right behind him. Lucy lingered behind a bit, eyes wide and fearful.
Peter accepted his brother's help and Edmund pulled him up, only to have him crumple back down. For a moment, no one moved or spoke, giving the ailing King a moment to collect himself.
"Try that again," Peter whispered, an odd note of fear in his tone.
Edmund obliged and pulled Peter up, but the High King couldn't stay upright even for a moment and his legs buckled again. Edmund and Susan only just managed to catch him in time to prevent another nasty fall.
The High King's eyes drifted to meet Edmund's first, then lifted to meet Susan's and Caspian's. One last time they moved, this time to those of his youngest sister, who was still staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Peter?" Lucy whispered. "What's wrong?"
Swallowing back the bile threatening to come up, Peter shakily replied, "I can't feel my legs…"
A/N: Uh-oh…runs and hides