Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Similarly, Oreius belongs to Disney or Walden Media or whoever thought him up. Again, that person was not me. I own only a devious mind.
Part Four
Edmund pounded on the locked door once more, his fists echoing the beating of the rain against the windows.
"Oreius! Oreius!" Panting, he turned to his brother. "He had to have gone through here!"
Peter looked up from his study of the Centaur's blood-stained wristlet, and then he handed Edmund the split piece of leather. "Move over."
He threw his shoulder against the door. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally there was the crack of old wood, and the door swung open. Edmund held his candle high, casting faint light into the dark room. It was silent and empty and had no other exits. And, as in the strange bedchamber they had found earlier, there was a fine layer of dust on the floor.
"No hoof prints," he said. "No one could have gone this way."
"Then where did he go?" Peter looked around and then took the torn wristlet back. "Or, I should say, where was he taken? Whatever got him was strong, and it was fast."
"What did he see?" Edmund asked, squinting into the darkness from where they had just come. "Was it the girls? Or was it a mirage?"
"He must have–"
Peter froze at the sound of that now-familiar laugh. It was still just barely audible over the howling wind and rolling thunder. And beneath that was the faint sound of weeping, the weeping of young girls, and the thud of what sounded like something or someone heavy being dragged across the floor.
"Where are you? Lucy! Susan! Oreius, can you hear me?" Peter's eyes were fear-filled, his face flushed, and he crushed the ruined wristlet into his fist. "They're gone. They're all gone."
Edmund forced himself not to tremble. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. If Peter was afraid, then there was definitely something to be afraid of.
"This can't be happening. Peter, it can't be true. I made her up. I made up Princess Raine to scare the girls. It wasn't real!"
"We're in Narnia, Ed. Things here are different from–" Peter jumped when lightning crackled across the sky, and Edmund could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped his sword. "Maybe there's a book in the library that will tell us what to do and how to stop all this."
"I don't remember anything like that."
"It must be there," Peter said. "How else would you have picked up that infernal name? You shouldn't have been teasing the girls anyway, Ed. Now look what's happened."
Edmund stopped, narrowing his eyes, studying his brother's face, hoping he looked more angry than afraid. "If this is a joke, Peter, it's gone way too far. Might as well tell me now."
Peter shook his head, face grave, breath unsteady. "You deserve it, Ed, for being so mean to Susan and Lucy, but I would never do that to the girls. Oreius–" He looked around, desperation in his expression. "Oreius never jokes."
"No."
Edmund narrowed his eyes, looking for something besides fear and panic on Peter's face. He was never very good at deceiving anyone. Still, just in case.
"Do you swear you don't know anything about this, Peter?"
Peter nodded rapidly.
"By Aslan?" Edmund pressed and he got the response he dreaded.
"By Aslan."
"Okay." Edmund swallowed hard. "Okay. Okay. We'll do what you say and see what we can find in the library. Maybe we'd better see who else we can find, too. I know most of them are at the Harvest Festival, but not all of them."
"Right," Peter said. "There has to be somebody around."
Edmund walked beside Peter down the corridor, his sword clutched in one sweat-slicked hand, the pale, wavering candle in the other. But at least he wasn't alone. Peter was with him, and they would figure out what to do. They would get out of this long-deserted wing of the castle. They would get more lights and more people. And they would find their sisters and Oreius and stop this Princess Raine no matter what it took.
"I don't hear them anymore," Peter whispered.
He was right. The storm still raged, but the mocking laughter, the low sobs, the dragging and the scrabbling sounds, they were not there now. Edmund paused, and Peter stopped beside him, both of them standing quite still, listening like deer at a stream. Then still very low, but louder and clearer than before, they heard the laugh. This time it was accompanied by the faint clop of horseshoes on stone.
"Oreius!" Peter shouted and an unfamiliar voice mocked back at him.
Oreius.
Peter clenched his jaw, his face flint. "Show yourself!"
Show yourself, the voice repeated. Show yourself. Show yourself.
"Peter!" Edmund cried. "Over there!"
There was a flash of movement in one of the doorways, the doorway that led up that narrow, winding stairway they had been up earlier, just before Lucy had been lost. Peter and Edmund both lunged towards it. Peter was in the lead, but Edmund stayed right with him. He wasn't going to lose him now.
"Come out!" Peter demanded as he sped into the darkness, Rhindon flashing in his hand. "Come out now!"
Edmund ran after him. "Peter! Peter, wait for me! Don't–"
He broke off, ducking his head as something black and smothering poured out of that doorway. With the beating of wings, the candle flickered out, leaving them in utter darkness. Edmund reached blindly towards his brother.
"Peter! Where are you?"
"Ed! Edmund! It's–"
Edmund heard Peter's muffled cry and the clang of metal on stone. He scrambled backwards, sword in hand, fumbling for the flint and steel in the pouch on his belt.
"Peter. Peter!" Edmund froze where he was, listening, ready to spring, but heard nothing now. "Peter?"
He tried to spark a light and failed. The second time, the flame caught and he lit the candle once again.
"Peter?"
His hand began to shake as the flickering light gleamed on a length of polished steel. Peter was gone, but Rhindon lay abandoned on the stone floor, stained with three drops of blood.
Author's Note: Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun! Now Edmund is alone. What will happen next? Stay tuned. Thanks again to Lady Alambiel for all her help.
