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 Five

Edmund's fingers trembled as he reached towards the blade that glinted there in the light of the candle. Three crimson drops, gleaming like the polished steel, lay fresh upon it. They were warm, smearing when he touched them. Fresh blood. Peter's blood.

"Peter!"

There was only a skittering sound somewhere in the darkness and then a faint knocking from farther off.

"Peter!" Edmund cried again. "Where are you?"

Nothing. Nothing but the roll of thunder and the drumming rain.

He wiped his fingers and then the sword on his tunic. Then, sheathing his own blade, he took up his brother's. Rhindon was more than just a sword. It was a gift to Peter and to Narnia, and Edmund would not leave it behind. And perhaps . . .

"Hear me, Raine of Narnia!" He lifted the Lion-pommeled blade into the darkness before him. "In the name of Aslan and of Peter, High King of all Narnian Kings, I command you to show yourself."

He waited, hearing nothing but his own too-quick breath, and then, from somewhere at his back, came the merest hint of laughter.

He spun to face it. "Come out!"

Come out, the voice mocked. Come out. Come out. Come out.

"What have you done with Oreius and my sisters?" he demanded, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Where's Peter?"

Where's Peter?

There was that skittering sound again and the sound of something heavy being dragged, of pounding and weeping and wordless pleading, and above it all, that hideous, taunting laughter. All of it swirled together in a growing wall of sound..

Where's Peter? Where's Peter?

Edmund covered both ears with his hands. "Shut up! Shut up!"

Where is Peter? Where are they all? The voice taunted him still, sing-songing the words from somewhere ahead of him, speaking to him now, not just mocking. Where are they?

"Tell me!" He moved forward, still with only the quavering flame of the candle to battle the darkness. "What do you want?"

Edmund. Edmund. Come to me. Come to me. Your blood, it is the last. The last I will need. Then I shall return. Come to me. You cannot escape. I have them all. They are mine and you are mine. Come to me.

All this while he had been creeping forward, down the dark hallway, down towards the relentless voice. He knew it now, where she was leading him. Inevitable. Inexorable. Of course she would be in the room they had been in before. Princess Raine's long-abandoned bedchamber. Now he was at the door, the door he and Peter had left open when Oreius was taken. Who had closed it? What was behind it? But the voice was coming from there, still calling to him, and he had to go in.

Edmund. Edmund. Come to me. Your blood is mine.

His grip was so tight, Rhindon's hilt dug into his palm. The candle flame leapt and flickered in time with the shaking of his hand, and he feared it would go out and leave him in utter darkness. Still he stretched out his foot and eased the door open, trying not to flinch at the groaning of the hinges.

The shutters were open now, open to the driving rain, revealing a sky of impenetrable black and forked white lightning. And there before the windows, standing on the blood-and-rain soaked carpet, loomed a spectral figure, full ten feet tall, its hair and dress white and flowing and sheer as silk, dancing and fluttering like the billowing curtains in the howling wind. In its white face were two deep, eyeless black pits, and its laughing mouth was a gaping black hole.

Edmund! it shrieked, lurching towards him, reaching for him with both bloodstained white hands. Edmund!

He lunged towards it with a low cry, but his boot caught on the edge of the carpet, flinging him headlong, sending Peter's sword and the now-extinguished candle in opposite directions. He got to his hands and knees, scrambling backwards as the specter glided towards him. Still it called his name, still it mocked and laughed, eye sockets empty, mouth gaping. Rhindon was gone. He had to draw his own sword. He had to get to his feet. He had to–

There was a crash and clatter in the blackness and a blow to the back of his head and, after that, nothing more.

OOOOO

"Edmund."

Edmund squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, not willing to open them until his heartbeat slowed and his breathing was steady. A dream. It had all been a dream. Susan was right here next to him. That was her worried voice. That was her soft, cool hand on his forehead.

He let all the air seep out of his lungs, wincing at the pounding pain in the back of his skull and the total exhaustion throughout his body. He must have screamed and struggled in his sleep, and pretty violently, too, to bring Susan to his side.

"Are you all right, Ed?" she asked, moving her hand to his cheek. "Come on now. Wake up."

"Sorry, Su," he murmured, struggling to sit up. "I must have been–"

He choked down a scream as he opened his eyes. Leaning over him was that hideous face, stark white with two empty sockets where the eyes should have been and a gaping black maw of a mouth. He fought to get away from it, and it drew back from him.

"Oh, Edmund, no," it said. "Wait."

Someone grabbed his arms, holding him where he was. "It's all right, Ed. It's okay."

"Peter?" Edmund flung himself against Peter's chest. "Peter. You're–"

He peered around and saw Oreius and Lucy there, too, both of them looking concerned. And then–

"Susan." He blew out his breath, not knowing whether to be furious or relieved. "It was you! It was all of you all the time."

Susan bit her lip, looking guilty under the heavy black-and-white makeup. "We didn't mean for you to get hurt, Ed. You ran into that old suit of armor in the hallway there and knocked yourself right out." She took out her handkerchief and started wiping the paint off her face. "I guess we did get a bit carried away."

"A bit." Edmund glared at Oreius. "You and your 'true' story of Princess Raine, Mr. I-Never-Joke. And you, Lucy, with your 'Peter, I'm scared' all the time."

Lucy tried to look ashamed, but giggled instead. "You deserved it, Ed. You know you did."

"And Peter." He shoved Peter away from him. "You swore. You swore by Aslan."

Peter winced. "I know. And, really, Eddie, it was true when I swore it. I was as much in the dark as you were until I got dragged off and recruited to be the bottom half of Princess Raine." He laughed half under his breath. "Besides, I was about as scared as you were the whole time, and I didn't even do anything."

"You thought it was pretty funny for him to scare me," Susan reminded him. "Until Lucy got scared, too. But we couldn't tell you ahead of time. You'd have only given it all away."

Edmund shook his head. "Okay, you got us both pretty good. You three must have been planning this for quite a while."

"A couple of days," Susan admitted. "With the help of Mice and Bats and a few Squirrels to skitter around behind the walls and a Nymph to be the voice of Princess Raine."

"And the footprints? How did you not leave any footprints in those dust-covered rooms?"

"We added the 'dust' afterwards," Lucy said with another giggle. "Just a fine layer of flour from the kitchen."

Edmund huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, then he scowled at Oreius. "I would have thought that you at least were above this sort of thing. What did you tell me about 'adolescent antics'?"

"That they would come back to bite you one day." The Centaur's face was as calmly grave as always, but there was a hint of a smirk on his face. "I merely considered this good training for unexpected difficulties and well worth tearing one of my own wristlets. And it was a good reminder that you should not torment your sisters unduly."

Susan smiled smugly. "Not unless you want another visit from Princess Raine."

Lucy giggled, and Peter shoved Edmund's shoulder.

"Come on, Ed. Don't you remember what today would be if we were back in England?"

Edmund thought for a moment and then grinned. "All Hallows' Eve. All right then, you all win this time." His smile widened. "But just wait until next year."

Author's Note: And there you have it, a spooky, fun tale for a stormy autumn night. I've always loved those creepy stories kids tell at camp, and I had a lot of fun cooking this one up. Lady Alambiel was a huge help as always. I think brainstorming with her was the most fun part for me. I hope you had a good time reading it. Do let me know what you think. This will probably be my last post for a while, but I'll be back when I can.