Defeat

The next morning I dragged myself out of bed. Since this was one of the few days of the week I was allowed to practice swordplay I was eager to get down to the training grounds. I was frustrated at this weakness that ruled me, the constant fatigue and muddled thoughts, the coldness that settled upon me and could not be shaken. Martil helped me into the thick, quilted clothes worn under the armor and I hastily laced up my heavy boots before slipping out into the dark hall.

"Edmund, did you eat?"

I only just managed to keep from jumping in alarm. I turned around. Lucy stood a few paces behind me with a candle in her hand and an expectant look on her face.

"I'm not hungry, Lu," I said truthfully.

Her eyes narrowed, but really, she wasn't very threatening even when she tried."I didn't ask that. You haven't eaten, have you?"

I couldn't lie, so instead I sighed.

"You ate half a bowl of soup last night, Edmund!" She clearly didn't care that she raised her voice. "You can't go train without having some breakfast."

"I'll eat when I get back. Peter and I always have breakfast after We can't train if we're stuffed."

"But you both always ate scones or muffins and tea before you leave for the training grounds. Silvo told me so."

Blast. If Silvo spilled to Lucy, he spilled to Oreius. I had to consume something now or Oreius would make me eat some of those tasteless millet cakes the Centaurs liked so much. They were so dense eating one could take days.

Lucy came closer, looking up at me with doleful eyes. "Edmund, I know you're not hungry, but maybe that's part of the spell. It's supposed to kill you. Maybe it's looking for other ways."

"And if I starve I'll be just as dead," I concluded. there was a certain logic to her reasoning. I sighed again. "You win. I'll eat a little now and when I get back I'll try to eat some more."

"Good! I had Avraiva serve some ginger scones. Come and sit for a minute."

The scones were warm and delicious and the company was determined not to lose me. I managed to eat most of one and I drank some hot chocolate to keep Lucy happy before I had to hurry down to join Celer. The guards were used to me and Peter passing them every morning, usually at a run, sometimes still eating whatever snack our valets set out for us before we reported to Oreius. I didn't run because I had to husband my strength and because my stomach was making me regret that scone. I bid the guards good morning as I passed, though, and thanked them for opening the doors as I stepped outside. The dawn was coming later every morning and the weather was very crisp and cold out as I hastened to the armory. I knew a storm was coming - I could feel it on the breeze. This month wasn't called Stormfall for nothing.

Halfway to my destination my stomach decided it had quite enough of breakfast and I stepped off the gravel path to be sick. I stood there gasping and miserable, my chest and stomach burning with pain. I wished many and varied a pox upon Jadis and her bloody curses. I was fed up with this. This feeling, these limitations, this whole situation. I wanted my brother back, I wanted my life back, and I wanted her out of me.

The Faun captain was waiting and he helped me into my armor. He immediately recognized that I was worked up about something and wisely didn't ask. These days I didn't need any excuses to be worked up. I didn't tell him that I had just been sick. I didn't dare. I needed a good workout right now no matter what it cost me.

I stared up at the wall where Peter's shield hung, the red lion on a silver background. It looked incomplete without Rhindon beside it. another curse upon Jadis for forcing him to leave. I tore my eyes away and scooped up my own shield, slinging it onto my arm automatically as I walked out. Celer followed me in silence. I didn't have just one word for how I felt. I was glad to be there, I felt sick to my stomach, I missed my brother, and I passionately hated the White Witch for causing all this. It was a strange feeling deep in the core of my being and I knew I needed this workout. I pulled up my mail cowl and clapped my helmet over my head. Every move had become automatic to me and I paused a moment, wondering at it and the fact that I was a king.

I was a king. It was my blessing and my burden, just the same as Peter's quest. I was fortunate beyond words he had willingly gone to fetch the apple and it was my place to endure the agony of waiting and worrying for his return. Trying my best to push all thought and emotion aside for later, I stepped into the courtyard we used for training, Celer a few paces behind me. He loosened his own shield from across his back.

"We'll warm up until General Oreius arrives," he decided, his breath visible in the cold morning air. "Start with blocking."

I nodded, freeing Shafelm from its sheath and knocking my visor down into place. We worked back and forth, starting slowly with attacks and blocks. We slowly circled each other, trying different forms and angles as we traded blows. Celer was watching me close as a Hawk, alert to any fatigue or pain on my part.

If only he knew.

Every jarring blow reverberated in my chest and my back felt afire. Breathing deeply was like fighting a tight band about my chest. My head, my stomach - everything hurt and I didn't care because I was sick and tired of giving in to my body's demands. I hid it well, because after a few minutes Celer asked,

"Shields down?"

I nodded again, pleased. This meant the warm-up was over and it was time to duel. Normally he never would have asked, just told me, but ever since Oreius had cut back my training I was the one who set the pace, not the general or captain. I set my shield aside and faced the good Faun with both hands on my sword as I took a fighting stance, already lost in the motions.

This is what I had been waiting for. I was pleased to see Celer take a moment to brace himself before giving me a small nod and I attacked without hesitation, swinging right at his head. He blocked easily enough but I didn't give him a chance to attack and pressed him back. He smiled, knowing this was what I lived for and excelled at above all other types of swordsmanship.

I whirled around, stepping into his attack to make up distance for my size. Blade point down, I blocked his sword in a backhanded, overhead arc that shouldn't have worked but stopped him completely.

"Ha!" Celer exclaimed, pleased. I was more innovative than Peter, though his technique was better than mine. We each had our strengths and our teachers were masters at bringing those strengths to the fore. As for our weaknesses...well, as far as I could tell Oreius had long-term plans for ruthlessly quashing each and every failing Peter and I displayed.

Celer swung and I dropped my weight straight down, ducking so low his blade passed right over my head and left his side open. I lunged and he twisted back just in time to keep from being 'killed' by my open palm. With a shake of his head he danced away, well aware that he had only just survived.

I was breathing heavily and sweating from more than exertion. I still didn't care. With a shout I attacked again, fast and furious, our swords ringing out across the courtyard. I stayed low and settled and at an angle to him, presenting a smaller and far more annoying target. Even my sword strokes came from the ground up. I couldn't do this for long because it was very tiring, but I enjoyed mixing things up and keeping my opponent confused. The only ones this didn't work against well were Peter and Oreius and I had yet to figure out why. That morning, though, Celer was mine.

I sliced Shafelm upwards, then reversed my arm and thrust the pommel into Celer's side before sweeping the blade in a wide arc so the tip came up and over his guard towards his neck. Celer grunted at the impact against his armor, but I knew I couldn't hurt him with that move and he blocked high, knocking Shafelm upwards.

Something about the move - the strength or the momentum or the angle - sent an incredible flare of pain straight through my chest that hurt as much as midnight. I gasped, feeling a rush of heat radiate from my chest. My vision blackened a moment and I automatically brought my arms in close and held Shafelm before me as Celer, unaware of my distress, spun completely around and brought his blade straight across mine.

An ugly, hollow, metallic sound rang out as I lost hold of my weapon. Shafelm clattered to the stone pavement and I followed, dropping to my knees, my hands clutching my chest. I fought for breath, fought nausea and faintness. I heard hoof beats and suddenly Oreius sank down beside me, no mean feat for a Centaur. I had no idea that he was here. Celer was on the other side, pulling off my helmet and pushing back my cowl. I couldn't speak. The only sound I could possibly have made at that moment was a scream and I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from doing just that. Strong hands steadied and supported me as I tried not to heave or pass out. A minute or more passed before I trusted myself not to shriek out my pain.

"Sire," Oreius said softly, "you must rest. Your body is not equal to the demands you place upon it. When your brother returns and this curse is broken, then we'll make up for lost time. Until then, King Edmund, you must not drive yourself so hard."

I looked up at the general and he gazed right back at me. He knew. He understood. If I gave in now...I had lost. The truth be told, though, I had.

...no matter how distasteful it may prove, you are a man of truth.

But Oreius, who knew it tasted quite this bad?

I felt my resistance draining away as my breathing grew easier. I supposed admitting defeat was just another truth. Still, nodding my head to Oreius was one of the most difficult things I had ever done.

"Come," said the Centaur. He hauled himself upright, then helped me to my feet and kept his big hand on my shoulder to support me. "Back to the Cair," he ordered, gesturing for the captain to gather our equipment.

I returned Shafelm to its sheath. I was shaking like a leaf and almost dropped the sword a second time. Celer moved away when I reached for my shield.

"You can have it back when we reach the stables," he said. We both knew we wouldn't pass anyone before then.

I made a face and huffed, then winced at the cramp in my back as I stood up straight. Slowly we walked back to the archway. As we reached it I had the oddest feeling of being watched. It wasn't malevolent or threatening, just...there. I turned abruptly, hoping to catch whomever it was.

The courtyard was empty. I stared at the familiar area, wondering.

"Majesty?" asked Oreius.

"I thought I..." I frowned. The sensation had been fleeting and now it had vanished on the damp breeze. The first few drops of rain started falling. I sighed, feeling sad and empty. "Never mind. It's nothing."

And so defeated, I let them help me back to Cair Paravel.