Day of the Dead 2: The Quick and the Dead
We finally caught up with Aslan in Cair Paravel. One of the Bat couriers, sleepy from being up so late, landed on my arm and whispered that the Lion was in the throne room. Oreius' hooves and my armor and shield and boots clanked a merry tattoo as we strode through the marble halls. Though Oreius and I had been up for hours the castle was just rousing. I was subject to an odd look here and there, for Peter and I almost never wore armor outside the training grounds and I'm sure the newly-awakened servants took me for a Dwarf guard.
"Stay with me, General," I quietly requested when Oreius would have waited outside the throne room, for I needed as many steady friends as possible right now. He nodded and followed without a word. Aslan was out on the balcony to greet the rising sun, his long shadow stretching across the inlaid floor. We were so noisy there was no way he could have missed our arrival and I waited for him to acknowledge my presence. He didn't turn around immediately, but he tested the salty breeze and drew a deep breath. I realized what he was about to do an instant too late to act and when he let out a mighty roar, I staggered back a step at the sheer volume. Oreius steadied me and I smirked, realizing that Aslan had loosed his roar for the sheer pleasure of it. That I could understand and appreciate. It seemed to make him more . . . well, certainly not human, but I could relate better after having seen him indulging himself.
There was delight in his golden eyes as he turned to me and Oreius with a smile. We both bowed to him and he came forward to nudge me with his nose.
"Good morn, Aslan," I said, wishing I could match his pacific calm.
"And to you, Edmund, Oreius." He looked at me evenly, waiting. I was sure he already knew why I was here, but he let me set the pace of this meeting.
I found myself studying the intricate pattern in the floor for a moment as I collected myself. "Aslan. Yesterday at Kellsalter I woke up from a nightmare."
"Was it a nightmare?" wondered the Lion, concerned. "You said you weren't sure."
"Well, I don't know. I was hoping you could help me. You see, I dreamed of drowning. Something pulled me into the water. I was fighting but the water was so cold and I was so deep it hurt."
His expression was gentle and sympathetic. We were both familiar with the sensation of dying.
"Did you drown?" he finally asked.
I started. "No. No, I didn't. At least, I don't think so. If it was me. You see, just as I felt the water going into my lungs, something . . . kissed me." I frowned, realizing exactly that had happened. Kissed? I unconsciously put a hand to my mouth, remembering the feel of ice-cold lips and slime. "Ugh!" I exclaimed, then realized where I was. I put my hand down hastily and composed myself. I wasn't sure how kings dealt with unwelcome advances, but it certainly couldn't be by yelling 'ugh!' in the midst of company. "And then I . . . wasn't drowning and I woke up."
"What makes you think this was no dream?"
I swallowed. Here was the heart of the issue. "Because I have the feeling something horrid has happened to Peter."
There was a flash of worry in those golden eyes, then Aslan's ears perked up and he cocked his head. "You've felt this before." It wasn't a question.
I nodded. "When he was eight, he fell from a tree and broke his wrist. I knew something had happened to him and I cried and cried to my mum that he was hurt until his friend came and fetched her an hour later. And I've always known when he's getting sick before he does. It just . . . I don't know." I shook my head, wishing I could better express the nagging sensation that accompanied the times my brother landed himself in trouble. I should have paid more attention at the time. "I just know something has happened to him and it's bad."
Oreius shifted. I gazed at Aslan unflinchingly.
"Aslan, I need to know if something has happened to Peter."
For a moment the Lion looked a thousand miles away and for all I knew, he was. When he spoke his voice held the utmost understanding. "Edmund, beloved child, I can only tell you your own tale."
I stepped closer and insisted, "What happens to Peter is my tale right now, Aslan!"
He drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Finally he said in whispered tones, "Something has happened."
"Is he dead?" I demanded.
"No."
Relief hit me as hard as a blow and I wavered where I stood. Alive. He was still alive. Not drowned. There was a chance. He would succeed. I would live to see him again . . . I would live . . . I felt an equally powerful wave of shame that my initial relief would be for my own survival. Peter was sacrificing all for me and I was horrified with my own selfishness. It was several deep breaths before I could put aside my self-blame as pointless. My reaction did not cheapen my concern for him. I hadn't even realized how frightened I had been until that fear was alleviated.
Again, Oreius' heavy hand fell upon my shoulder and he gripped me tightly, practically keeping me from falling over. "Peace, sire. Your brother lives."
I pressed for more information. "Is he safe?"
"In a sense," said Aslan, inclining his head.
"Is he being held?"
"In another sense. But he lives."
I nodded faintly. "Aslan?" I asked breathlessly. I was trembling and my knees no longer felt strong enough to support me.
"My child?"
My throat was tight but somehow my voice was steady. "If Peter should . . . if he . . . " I swallowed heavily, fighting down an image of my brother alone, dead and drowned out in the Western Wild. "Is lost, will you tell me?"
The Lion lifted his huge paw to my shoulder. "I swear to you, King Edmund, that I will tell you. But you in turn must promise me something."
"Anything," I said.
"Do not forget what you promised Peter before he left."
I had promised Peter not to lose faith or to give up. I had also said I would think of him if I ever despaired. And I had promised to try to forgive myself. I nodded to Aslan even though he knew, as I did, that if Peter failed there was little hope I would live. I honestly didn't know if I would want to. Meeting his eye, I replied faintly, "I remember."
Suddenly I was exhausted. Events and exertions caught up with me in a rush and I wanted nothing more than to sit on the floor and hang my head and let the sun warm me. It was so very tempting, but I thought upon all the times I knew Peter had been this weary yet still managed to carry himself as befitting a king. I could do no less. I had to clean up and go eat breakfast with my sisters before reporting back to Oreius for instruction and then help my sisters run this country. It was daunting, overwhelming, even, especially since on top of all that I had to struggle with what Jadis had done to me and every move ached and . . .
"Sit," Oreius abruptly ordered in a tone of voice I knew not to argue with. His hand pressed me down and I ended up hanging my head in the sun anyway, though in my initial vision of the event I hadn't been so thoroughly forlorn and light-headed. The Centaur stripped away my shield and helmet and gloves set them aside as Aslan pressed his face close to me. I leaned heavily into the Lion, clinging to the soft, coarse mane beneath my fingers. I felt pale and weak and chilled to the bone. My chest was tight and my breathing felt labored.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, not exactly sure why I was apologizing. If I hadn't been so weary I might have cried, even if I wasn't very good at it. I couldn't understand why I was reacting so strongly to the news that Peter was alive.
"Don't be, Edmund," said Aslan softly. "You have had a sore trial this past month. King though you are, you must not forget you are also a child and," he said in a slightly sterner tone before I could protest, "you are not your brother."
With a sigh I admitted, "I wish I was more like him."
"Just as he wishes he was more like you, sire," Oreius answered. He had fetched some wine and held the goblet before me. "You do very well as yourself. Now drink, Sir Edmund and when you are done, I order you to go lay down and sleep."
"But-"
He raised a finger to shush me. "You have not been dismissed. You are still my student. Now drink."
The wine was red and sweet and reminded me of the anniversary celebration. I rarely drank unwatered wine and it hit my system almost immediately. Still, I drank it all. It was a heady few mouthfuls. I didn't like this feeling at all, this absolute fatigue and emotional drain, but they were both right and I desperately needed to sleep.
"Come," said Aslan, rising. I stood on shaky feet, one hand tangled in his mane. Oreius stood to the other side, holding my arm in case I collapsed. My knees were tempted to give way but I refused to succumb to dizziness. They guided me out of the throne room and to Peter's chambers where Silvo and Martil took charge of me. The Fauns helped to pull off the heavy armor and after a word from Aslan they settled me comfortably in Peter's bed. I was asleep before the covers were tucked in around me and I knew Aslan stayed with me because I didn't dream.