Storm

"Marin," I said, turning to the silver tabby as she ran up the main stairs, "what are you doing here? I thought you were going to help your sister move her kittens indoors."

The Cat shook her head, jumping up lightly onto the railing beside me. She was soaked to the skin and there was panic in her voice as she spoke. "There was no time, King Edmund! The storm moved in too quickly and she couldn't get them out of the stable. With this rain it will flood and she can't climb!"

I stared at Marin, horrified. The stable Mrs. Tibs had been staying in was the farthest from the Cair and set lowest on the hill. The ground floor could flood easily and Mrs. Tibs and the kittens would drown if her shoulder wouldn't allow her to climb to the loft. I looked back through the windows. I could see nothing. Rain beat upon the stained glass and it was pitch black outside as a mighty autumn storm swept across Narnia with all the force of a hurricane.

When did you become a king?

My subjects were in grave danger, helpless before this tempest. I felt a chill as I envisioned Mrs. Tibs trying to protect her children. She wouldn't have a hope.

"Marin," I said, resolved, "I'm going down to the stable and I'll help your sister at least move the kittens to the loft. I want you to find Oreius or Celer and tell them where I've gone. If you see one of the valets or my sisters or Aslan, tell them as well. Tell everybody you see. If I can get them back here safely, I will. If not, I'll get them into the loft. Make sure Oreius knows where I went and why. Understood?"

"Let me accompany you, Sire!"

"No."

"But you can't go alone!"

"Then send help! Do as I've said!"

She nodded, already running. "Immediately, Sire!"

I hurried down the stairs, rushing through the halls to reach the kitchens. The rear door to the kitchen was the closest to the stables, though they were still a good ways off. If I moved quickly enough I could get them all back to the Cair well before midnight.

"King Edmund!" exclaimed one of the cooks, a stout old Dwarf named Duffkin. He was well named because he did rather look like a pudding.

"I'm going to the stables," I told him before he could ask. "Mrs. Tibs and her kittens are out there in the last stable and if it floods they'll drown. I'll be back."

"Take this, Majesty," he said, reaching down a tightly woven basket with a hinged lid. "And hurry. She's not the worst storm I've seen, but she's bad enough!"

I tucked the basket under my arm. "Thank you. If anyone asks, tell them where I went."

I yanked open the door. A tremendous blast of ice-cold wind and rain drove me back and I almost fell over.

"It's too dangerous, lad!" shouted Duffkin.

"I won't let them drown!"

I dashed out into the storm. Instantly I was soaked to the skin and the wind buffeted me and almost tore the basket out of my grasp. I coughed as cold water splashed in my face and I struggled to see. There was barely any light to see by, but as I pressed forward along the path my vision adjusted to the darkness and I could make out the shapes of trees and buildings. I ran down the slope to the ornate wooden footbridge spanning the stream. The stream, usually so friendly and gentle, had grown to a violent and uncontrolled torrent. The arched bridge swayed as I rushed across it and I was struck by the sheer, desperate stupidity of my actions. A tremendous burst of lighting illuminated the field for a few heartbeats and the rumbling thunder that followed was deafening. The trees bent low under the force of the gale, stripped bare of their leaves. I could see the first of the stables and headed slightly to the north towards the farthest one. The lashing rain pummeled me so hard it was painful, but I was closer to the stables than I was to palace by now and I pressed onwards.

I dashed rain out of my eyes, a rare prayer welling in my heart. Aslan, let me save them. Let me reach them. They'll drown. They're babies. Lion help me! I have to do something! I will not stand by and do nothing, Aslan!

I don't know if he heard since it was less a plea for assistance than justification to myself, but the mere thought of the great golden Lion was enough to give me the will to press on. I was shivering cold and there was a stinging in my chest. The mud grew deep and I slipped and fell into a puddle with a bark of pain. The storm became wilder and I heard a tremendous sound of wood splitting and splintering. Rolling over and pushing myself up onto my hands, I barely saw the footbridge shift on its footings. With a cracking rumble it collapsed beneath the fury of wind and water, effectively cutting me off from the Cair for now.

Cutting me off from Lucy...and the cordial.

I huffed, trying to clear my nose of mud. It was conceivable that I could circle around the palace to the next bridge about a mile to the southwest and reach the main gates, but in my mind it was inconceivable that I would abandon any of my subjects. Peter never would. Nothing mattered but reaching Mrs. Tibs and her kittens now. I could only hope Marin delivered my message, because it was my only hope. But even if help couldn't come, I could still act.

I scrambled to my feet and fought to stay upright against the wind. Another flash of lighting and crack of thunder showed me I was only a few hundred yards from the stable. I ran as best I could, slipping and sliding every step. The ground was soaked and water pooled ankle-deep around the low-lying building. I splashed through the muddy water and threw myself under the thatched eaves, panting. I shoved the door open and gained the relative shelter of the old stable. A steady rivulet of water ran through, muddying the earth floor and carrying the straw against the downhill wall where the water gathered before slowly draining out. There was half a foot of murky water accumulated throughout the ground floor, more than enough to drown a kitten or even a Cat.

"Mrs. Tibs!" I shouted. "Mrs. Tibs, it's Edmund! Where are you? Mrs. Tibs!"

I strained my ears and in a few moments I was rewarded by a frightened mewing sound. "Abigale? Bellas?" I called, wading towards the faint noise. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the scene and I understood now why Mrs. Tibs hadn't answered.

She was trapped in the mud at the base of the ladder leading to the loft. Abigale was on her back, trying to reach the lowest rung of the ladder, her tiny paws flailing. Nain and Bellas were already clinging to the rung and struggling to keep their balance. I let out a shout and rushed over. I still had the basket and I hastily snatched the crying kittens up and dumped them into it before slinging it as far back on my arm as I could. Then I slid my other arm under the mother Cat's belly, holding her head out of the water as I worked her mired legs and tail free.

There was nowhere to go but up the ladder. It shifted in the deep mud as stepped onto the first rung. If help was coming it was coming here and I didn't want to risk the kittens in the rain. I held the motionless, muddy Cat close to my side and climbed up into the loft. It was shadowed and musty but mostly dry and I kicked the scattered straw into a pile before setting the basket down and opening the lid. The terrified babies spilled out and clambered for their mother, but I said,

"Just a moment. You're all safe. Hang back and let me clean your mother up."

I peeled off my sodden tunic and wrung it out, then used it to clean the mud off Mrs. Tibs as best I could. Curiosity overcame fear and three waterlogged little kittens crowded around me as I worked, watching intently. Another crack of thunder sent them squealing and jumping onto me from all sides. I grimaced as tiny claws dug through my leggings and shirt as the kittens took shelter on me. Their mother hadn't moved from exhaustion, but the cleaning helped to warm and dry her and after a few minutes she was able to lift her head.

"King Edmund?" she whispered, squinting at me. Her glasses were gone.

"I'm right here," I said, my teeth chattering with the cold. "Your kittens are safe, m'am, and I hereby command you to move into the palace."

"I shall, sire," she said wearily and I knew she was smiling.

"Come on, now." I motioned to the trio of kittens, inviting them to tackle the larger cat, which they did with excitement and relief, all of them talking at once. After reassuring herself that they were well she immediately set about grooming them and stepped on them when they tried to wriggle out of it. I was reminded of when I was little and I used to try to escape Susan when she came at me with a hairbrush. I smirked at the memory.

Then I gasped aloud, my hands grasping my mid-section, my body on fire with pain.

Midnight.

I collapsed backwards, striking my head on the wooden floor so hard I was almost knocked unconscious. I had never told Peter, but he must have guessed that the crystal had severed my spine. From the waist down I could feel nothing. I could smell blood and mud and rain, hear the storm and frightened babies and my own horrible, rasping breaths. For an eternity I lay there in a state of cold, detached pain and I knew I was dying, just as I had been dying at Beruna. It was even more awful than I remembered, this sense of heaviness and the feel of cooling blood. Every breath was a battle and my chest was heavy as I forced myself to go on living.

Why? I wondered of myself. If I so felt I deserved it, why was I fighting?

Because you're a stubborn little beast, my own voice answered in my mind, and you promised your brother.

And then I realized something amidst all this horror and agony: not even I deserved this.

...promise me you'll forgive yourself...

Oh, Peter. Dammit. I had promised him I would try and I could not break a promise made to the High King any more than I could break a promise to my brother. Until now I hadn't thought it was possible that I might ever see this situation from his point of view, but he was right. No one deserved this. I wasn't sure how to forgive myself, but I knew now that I could. I had to. I needed to.

Because not even a reformed traitor deserved to have the like of Jadis triumph over him.

And I wasn't a traitor. Not any more. I was a king.

...let it be done...

It was.

I thought of my brother as I lay dying in a pool of my own blood and despair held no dominion over me.

I opened my eyes a slit to the strangest light. A golden glow like candlelight seemed to fill the stable. I heard Mrs. Tibs' voice rise up in desperate alarm: "Here! Here! He's up here! Hurry!" A smell sweeter than perfume filled the air I dragged into my lungs, and then all was quiet and still.