A/N: A bit shorter than usual, but I caught whatever my kids had and was sick today. Still, I hope you like the update! As always, I love to hear from you and sometimes I even use what you say or hope to see!
Part Eighteen:
The Telmarine soldiers stood or sat astride horses, those who hadn't been swept along in the crashing water when Condatis destroyed the bridge. Most of them were looking to one another, and around their ranks, uncertain what to do next.
Peter could see that a few of the higher-ranking officers were talking amongst themselves and worried what they could be discussing. He was beginning to feel the burn of his wounds and knew he hadn't much time before they overtook him.
Turning to Caspian, who was standing beside him, sword held loosely in his hand, Peter swallowed and looked down at Rhindon. The Telmarines needed someone to take clear charge of them. Who better than Caspian? He was already royalty to them, albeit somewhat exiled, but it was less of a stretch to follow him than some once-mythical Narnian monarch.
"Caspian," he said, drawing the young man's attention. "I do not know what those officers discuss, but I think now is the hour the prophecy spoke of – the time for you to bring balance and peace to Narnia again."
He held out Rhindon in a lightly shaking hand and Caspian's eyes darted down to the proffered sword hilt, glistening in the sun banking off the river behind him. His insides felt like they were turning to mush.
"I am not like you, King Peter," he said quietly. "I do not see how all these people could possibly put their faith in me as a leader. Why do you not call for their surrender?"
Peter shook his head. "Two reasons. One, I am a figment of a fantastical history they know nothing about. You are their rightful ruler, and a Telmarine yourself. They do not fear your very existence. And two, my voice isn't likely to get much louder than this right now…"
He could feel Edmund shift beside him to look at his older brother, but chose to ignore the look that must be boring into the side of his head. He felt strongly that Caspian must do this.
The dark-haired Telmarine gulped and continued to stare at the sword and Peter. Finally, another voice piped up. "Caspian?"
The young Just King moved up to stand in front of the Telmarine prince. "I didn't think I was ready to be a king when I was thrust onto a throne. I felt like I wasn't worthy. But I learned that I had to accept it, because it was my place." He paused, looking out at the suddenly active officers. "This is your place. Claim it, before it's too late."
Caspian's eyes firmed into a steady resolve and he handed Peter his own sword before taking hold of Rhindon. The Narnians around them who could see what was happening gasped and the attention of the nearest Telmarines was caught.
Whispers spread through the ranks of both armies like wild fire, and Caspian, with one last look at Peter and his brother, turned and moved to the remains of the bridge so that he was standing directly opposite from Aslan and Lucy.
He met the intense gaze of the great lion, and saw shining approval in those eyes which bolstered his resolve even more. Meeting the eyes of the Telmarine officers, who appeared to have decided on a lesser lord as their new leader, he glared and spoke loudly.
"Soldiers of Telmar! Your officers are prepared to call you to arms, to ask you to fight a battle you cannot win. I offer you another choice. Lay down your weapons, and you will not be harmed. The Narnians are not what we were all raised to believe, they are not the beasts that would snatch your babies from their beds."
His gaze turned to the nearest men in the water as he continued, heartened that no one had moved for their weapons and even the officers and the lesser lord seemed to be listening to his words.
"My uncle tried to have me killed." There were fierce whispers in response to that, but Caspian pushed on. "He wanted the throne and was willing to do anything to take it. That now-empty throne is rightfully mine and whether by peace, or by force, I intend to take it. The choice between the two is yours, but I have the support of the Narnians and their Kings and Queens, and of their highest of Kings, Aslan."
As he spoke, he raised Peter's sword and the Narnians raised theirs in response, roaring their approval and their support of the Telmarine. Aslan and the Kings and Queens all raised their heads and their eyes held a challenge that screamed out they would not go down without a fight.
"You have no hope of victory," Caspian said, more gently than his previous words. "I have faith in the Narnians and I know we can all live peacefully. They have shown themselves to be loyal and true beings. Lay down your arms and no more blood need be spilt today."
There was a tense silence and for a moment, Caspian feared his first attempt at becoming a true leader had failed. But then, the lesser lord moved his horse forward and out of the water, sword held out to the side and other hand held out in a gesture of no threat.
He slowly dismounted and stood before Caspian.
"There were many in the court who did not want to believe you had turned against us. Many who were loyal to your father, and who would be loyal to you," he said. Extending his sword, hilt first, he bowed lightly to the young prince. "As the next highest in rank behind Lord Sopespian, I offer you my total surrender, Prince Caspian."
Without hesitation, Caspian took hold of the sword offered to him and nodded. "Thank you," he said. Looking up, he watched as the five other officers moved slowly in his direction and each laid down their swords before him.
As the Telmarines began to extricate themselves from the now calm waters of the river, Caspian turned to the approaching Pevensie siblings with a broad smile on his face. He held Rhindon out to Peter. "Thank you. I think the show of Narnian loyalty might just have been the nudge that was needed," he said.
The High King smiled lightly and accepted the sword back. He looked past Caspian now to where Lucy and Aslan still stood and he lightly gestured in their direction. "We should go to them," he said quietly.
Edmund gripped Peter's shaking arm. "You all right, Pete?"
The older Pevensie nodded. "I'll be fine, Edmund. Stop hovering like an old maid. I'm not going to suddenly drop dead on you or anything." He gently pushed his brother's hand off his forearm and stepped into the cold water of the river.
Now that the bridge was gone, they'd have to cross the hard way. Thankfully, the water never reached past their midsection and only half their fabric underclothing got wet. If it had been all, Peter was sure he'd have dropped under the added weight.
Stumbling and slipping on the wet rock, the three elder Pevensies and the young prince finally drew ashore on the opposite bank of the river and came to a stop a few feet in front of Aslan and Lucy.
Peter met the great lion's eyes and, dipping his head and gripping Rhindon, he lowered himself down on one knee. Edmund, Susan and Caspian followed his lead and also went down, bowing their own heads.
"Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia," Aslan intoned, his voice filled with warmth and love.
Edmund, Susan and Caspian, the latter hesitating, did so, but Peter remained where he was, only lifting his head. "Peter? You can get up now," Edmund said, looking down at his older brother, who had actually laid his sword down on the ground in front of him.
He heard a mumbled response, something that sounded like, "'Fraid not, Ed," before Peter started to fall sideways. Immediately dropping to his knees again, Edmund managed to halt the High King's topple before Peter's head could hit the ground.
"Peter!" he cried out. "Peter, wake up this instant!"
Susan dropped beside them and reached out to touch her older brother's face. "He is very hot," she said, worry in her voice. She looked to his shoulder. "And he is losing blood again."
She looked to her right as Aslan's head appeared at her side and leaned down to Peter, a look of concern in the great cat's yellow eyes. Lucy hit the ground beside her brothers and sister with a cry of "Peter!"
Instinctively, Lucy grabbed at her diamond cordial bottle and was about to uncork it when a warm hand fell atop hers and the bottle, effectively halting the young Queen's movements.
"No, Lu."
Edmund grunted as Peter tried to sit up, holding him down. "Stay still, Peter," he muttered, watching as Susan cut a large clump from the bottom of her dress and handed it wordlessly to him.
The younger brother gathered it into a compress of sorts and without warning Peter, pressed it against his bleeding shoulder. Peter hissed in pain, but otherwise didn't react.
Lucy frowned at him, moving her bottle out of his grasp. "Peter, how badly are you hurt? Why won't you let me?"
The young High King was saved from answering when Aslan's deep voice sounded. "Your brother just needs rest and a hearty meal," the lion said, his breath tickling Lucy's cheek. "But I am sure there are others in need of your healing, dear one."
For a moment, the youngest Queen hesitated, but then she smiled and nodded. Before she stood though, she carefully wrapped her arms around Peter, somehow getting around Edmund's hand on Peter's shoulder.
"I was so happy to see you standing, Peter," she said, muffled in his neck as he wrapped his right arm around her back lightly. "I wanted to run over here and do this. I was so worried when the cordial didn't work." She pulled back. "There's something I need to tell you. Not now, but later. Promise we can talk?"
He cocked his head wearily to the side, but nodded. "Of course, Lu. Whenever you like." The young King smiled as a grin lit up Lucy's face and she jumped to her feet, glancing about, then hurried off to the nearest wounded soldier.
Peter shifted his gaze to the penetrating one of Aslan. The great lion lowered his head and the eldest Pevensie reached out with his good arm and hugged as much of the lion as he could.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "I was getting worried."
Aslan's laugh rumbled and Peter felt the vibrations. "Getting worried, young one?" the lion chuckled. "But you are most welcome, all the same. Now," he drew back as Peter released his hold. "Let the others take care of everything, Peter. You have done more than enough."
If he'd felt stronger, Peter would have probably protested. But he was lucky he was even able to remain conscious, so he nodded and then let his head fall back against Edmund's shoulder.
Aslan turned to Caspian.
"Your words were very wise," he said to the young man. "You have learned much from Narnia's Kings and Queens. You are worthy of your new place, and I am glad to see it."
He turned and moved off toward where the nearest Narnians were collecting the swords and other weapons of the Telmarines. Casting over his shoulder, he called, "Come, Caspian, Susan. There is still work to be done here."
Rising, Susan smiled at her brothers. "Ed, don't let him even think about lifting a finger to help out. We can take care of everything ourselves, Caspian and I." She turned to the dark-haired Telmarine. "Shall we?"
He smiled and nodded, standing beside the Gentle Queen. For a moment, Peter swore they looked like Susan and Edmund, about to take on a matter of court. As they moved off, he watched Telmarine and Narnian eyes follow them. At least they still had some regal bearing. He, on the other hand, was lying there like a lump in Edmund's arms and felt very far from regal.
"Come on, Peter," Edmund said, grunting as he maneuvered out from behind and somewhat under his heavier brother. "Let's get you up. Glenstorm and some of the Fauns appear to be setting up a camp of sorts. We'll get you out of this armor and comfortable."
The High King let out a cry of pain as he was hoisted to his feet and wavered unsteadily. Edmund gave him a moment, letting his brother lean heavily against him.
Glad that Glenstorm and the Fauns had set up camp on this side of the river, he guided Peter slowly toward the erected tents where the wounded who were not in need of cordial were being taken to be tended.
The centaur spied the young Kings and hurried over. "Your majesties, this way, we have a tent set for you and your royal sisters." He eyed Peter's barely conscious form and frowned. "Shall I send over Healer Danak?"
Peter shook his head "no" as Edmund shook his "yes".
The centaur chuckled. Edmund glared at his brother, craning his head to do it, and forcefully said, "Yes, Glenstorm. High King Peter might not think he needs looking to, but he most definitely does."
Nodding, Glenstorm hurried off as Edmund ducked into the tent in front of him, pulling Peter along with him, grumbling, "No…no…of course not. King Peter the Magnificently Stubborn never needs help…"
Peter snorted at that, but was too busy putting one foot in front of the other to hit his brother as he would have liked. He groaned as he was lowered to the center of a large hammock.
Edmund wasted no time and began to strip bits of armor from his brother's body, starting with his legs and working his way up, leaving the armor around the High King's shoulders for last.
"Easy," Edmund said quietly as he gently worked Peter's chain mail off and the latter gasped in pain, shaking a little harder until the mail was off and discarded into a pile. "Almost done, Peter. Just let me get this tunic off."
The oldest Pevensie nodded slowly, letting Edmund work his arms out of the bloodied and sweat-soaked cloth. The air was cold against his feverish body and he shivered hard.
Edmund grabbed a blanket from the nearby pile and draped it over Peter's shoulders as he reached for a water bucket and a cloth. With practiced, cautious hands he began to clean away the blood and grime from Peter's shoulder, edging ever closer to the wound there.
He heard a voice outside the tent call out, "Your majesties? May I enter, it is I, Healer Danak."
Without pausing in his work, Edmund granted him entrance and the Faun soon was beside the younger King, kneeling to get a better look at the wounded boy. "Hmm. That looks painful, but it needs no closing," he said lightly. "I will mix a paste to help ward off infection and to promote healing." He reached out and gently felt Peter's forehead. "And something for that fever…"
He stood. "Do you have any other injuries, King Peter?" he asked as he moved off, pulling things from a small satchel over his shoulder.
Gulping as Edmund reached his wound and began to gently bath it, Peter shook his head lightly. "No. But Ed does."
Edmund looked up at that and frowned. "We'll deal with you first, Peter. My arm's fine." He glared at his brother as Peter opened his mouth to retort. For once, it was enough to stop Peter. "You really must be tired, if you didn't fight me on that."
Peter smiled. "Don't have the energy to argue, Ed. Promise you'll get looked at?"
The younger King nodded. "I promise, Peter. Don't worry your pretty little head over it." He finished cleaning the wound in front and moved around behind Peter to work on the back.
Healer Danak returned to his Kings and asking silent permission with soft eyes began to gently cover the entry wound with his healing paste. Peter winced and shook as he was administered to from both sides.
Finally, after what felt like forever to the High King, both Edmund and Danak stepped back and faced him. Peter looked up with bleary eyes at them. "Will I live?" he whispered with a small grin.
Edmund shook his head. "Yes, Peter. Though, sometimes I wonder if you think of that when you're pulling some of your more … heroic … antics." Waiting until the High King had finished drinking the herbal mixture for his fever, Edmund then stepped forward and eased his brother back until he was comfortably settled in the soft hammock.
"Edmund," Peter said, eyes fluttering a little, but not closing. "We still have a lot to talk about. You told me to 'save it for later'." He suddenly yawned widely. "You really have always been there for me, you know and I don't think I ever told you what it means to me."
His brother scoffed. "Peter, I'm going to have to insist we continue to save it for later." He paused as Peter forced his eyes open again and opened his mouth. With a small smile, he reached forward and placed a finger to his brother's lips. "No, Peter. We will talk later. Sleep."
He needn't have added the last bit, because Peter had already drifted off.
With a quiet sigh, he brushed the hair back off his brother's face. "You are going to drive me to an early grave, Peter," he said quietly, sitting back on his heels. Danak quietly left the tent, seeing Edmund was now oblivious to all but his brother's sleeping form.
As he sat on the hard floor, still in armor with his arm smarting in pain now, his thoughts drifted to the night raid, the duel, the battle. How many times could he have lost Peter in the recent past? How many times did he come close to feeling the pain he'd felt when he'd opened that door to those soldiers back in England?
Looking at Peter's peaceful face, he shuddered as an image of that face, paler and lifeless, flashed before his eyes. When Peter had collapsed back on the shore, Edmund's heart had stopped beating for a few seconds, fearing the worst.
With the adrenaline rush of battle now gone, and his wounds reminding him of their presence, he was surprised to find his eyes were full of tears. Tears of physical and emotional pain, tears of joy and sadness. How could he feel so many things all at once?
"King Edmund? Are you within, sire?"
The deep voice of Glenstorm drew him from his thoughts. Rising, he moved stiffly to the entrance of the tent and pulled aside the flap. "Yes, Glenstorm?" he said quietly, and then noticed Willowwind and Halston behind the general.
Bowing lightly, the centaur spoke again. "How fares High King Peter? Will he be all right?"
Edmund sighed. "He will be. He just needs rest and nourishment. Was there something you needed?" He shifted and winced when pain shot through his left shoulder.
Willowwind stepped forward, frowning. "My liege, you are in pain?"
The young King grimaced. "Some. I'll be fine."
She shook her head. "Let us help you remove your armor, my liege. It is the least we can do." Before she could go on, she pressed a hand to her own wound and frowned. "I better let Glenstorm or Halston do it, though. I'm not sure I'd be steady."
Edmund nodded. "How is your own wound, Willowwind?"
She huffed. "Healing, your majesty. Worry not."
He sat outside the tent and looked up when Halston approached. "I can help," the young centaur said, looking to his father for permission. Glenstorm, in turn, looked to Edmund for an answer.
"Go ahead," the young King said to Halston. "I saw you helping some Fauns earlier."
Smiling, Halston nodded. "Oh yes. Once the battle was over, the tree spirits brought me here to Mother and Father. I wanted to help, so I went around taking armor off the warriors who couldn't do it themselves. I'm real good at it."
Edmund had to agree as the centaur child made quick work of his armor. Left with only his tunic and leggings now, he carefully moved his shoulder and immediately regretted it.
"Stupid, Ed. Stupid. You must be rubbing off on me, Peter," he muttered, grasped his arm tightly to his side to try and ease the pain. Willowwind, who was now carefully resting on the ground beside him, reached out gently.
"You need to have that looked at," she said quietly.
Edmund shifted his gaze to her and shook his head. "Danak has others in more need of his expertise. I can wait." But the centaur shook her head.
"I have strength enough for this," she said, reaching to help him draw the tunic off and reveal the crusted wound on his shoulder from the duel he'd fought to save her. "After all, you received it saving my life."
The Just King blushed. "It wasn't anything special, Willowwind. You'd have done the same." As she cleaned his wound, he tried not to wince, but wasn't entirely successful. He let out a breath when it was carefully bandaged and Halston handed him a clean tunic he had fetched from inside the royal siblings' tent.
Willowwind paused as he settled closer to the now-lit fire and stared into it. Seeming to think hard, she suddenly reached up and untied a carefully woven leather necklace from her neck.
"King Edmund?"
He looked at the female centaur, waiting for her to continue.
"I'd like you to have this," she said, holding out the leather strip. "As a token of my appreciation for saving my life. This was woven by my great-grandfather. It has been blessed and brings wisdom to the wearer."
Edmund gently took the leather necklace and turned it over in his hands. It was a beautiful piece of work. "It is too precious, if it is an heirloom," he said haltingly. But Willowwind waved him off, insisting he take it. He relented. "It is truly wonderful," he said. "I will treasure it always."
He held it out for her and she gently reached around his neck and fastened it for him. With a small smile, she settled back and the four quietly enjoyed a meal together as Edmund awaited Susan and Lucy's return.
After seeing Lucy and Susan to the tent that held Edmund and Peter, and assuring himself that both Kings would be fine with rest, Caspian excused himself to search out the one other person he had to check on.
Pushing aside a tent flap, he ducked inside the shelter and zeroed in on the man resting on a soft bed of blankets. Stripped of his armor and dressed in a fresh shirt, his old teacher looked smaller than he could remember.
Moving forward, he knelt beside the pallet and sighed. "Well, old friend, I do hope you are having pleasant dreams…" he cut off as Glozelle shifted and turned his head toward the prince.
Eyes fluttered open and then widened. "Caspian?" the general croaked, surprised by his own rough voice. "What happened?" Looking around, the man appeared confused to be in a tent, not on a battlefield. "How did I get here?"
The young Telmarine chuckled, putting a restraining hand on the man's shoulder.
"You were knocked out cold by a tree," he said with a smile. "When we sent out a party to collect the wounded, you were brought here to the camp. We are beside the river and the battle is over."
Glozelle's eyes widened. "Over?"
Nodding, Caspian told him what had transpired since the man was knocked out and by the end of the tale, Glozelle was smiling lightly. "I guess I chose wisely," he said quietly. "I need not hope you will make a better king than your uncle, because it appears you have already proven that you will."
Caspian blushed and turned away. "I am not a king," he said.
Glozelle let out a short laugh. "No, perhaps not yet. But surely you don't believe anyone else will be taking the Telmarine throne?"
With a frown, Caspian sat down and leaned against the tent pole in the center of the shelter. "Well, no, I guess not," he said. "I don't feel like a king." He fingered the edge of his armor. "I feel like a lost little boy sometimes, beside these Narnian Kings and Queens of Old. They're legends really. I'm just Caspian. Another in a long line of Caspians."
Glozelle rose up on his elbows. "But one unlike all the rest," he said with conviction. "Your ancestors, your own father even, would not have done what you have. Would not have befriended and earned the respect and fealty of the Narnian army. I would say you are fast catching up to your new friends and making your own legend, Prince Caspian, soon to be King."
Caspian looked up at the general and lifted his head a little higher. "You are right," he said, smiling. "As usual. I do not understand how you can be so wise, and yet so not. I still do not see how you could have given the order to kill me."
Glozelle slumped back down. "Did you know I have a daughter?"
The prince's head snapped up. "What?"
The general continued. "She's 14," he said. "Her mother died in childbirth. I trained you, Caspian, but you know very little about me because it wasn't my place to be your friend. You want to know why I did what I did? I did it for her. So she would not have to grow up an orphan."
He turned to Caspian. "I don't know if you can ever forgive me for what I did, nor am I certain I can forgive myself. But I hope that you could at least understand why I acted as I did."
Swallowing hard, Caspian thought back to his talk with King Edmund. To his talks with Peter and Susan and even young Lucy. How would they react in this case? And he knew the answer.
"I forgive you," he whispered. "It is in the past, we should move on."
They remained silent after that, each lost in thought. Caspian stripped himself of his armor and took the other pallet in the small tent, drifting off to sleep content that this time, Glozelle would not be leading any armed guards to kill him while he slumbered.
A/N: Oie, it's odd not to be writing battle scenes! I'm going to miss that!