Um, just please be warned that this chapter implies some very inappropriate conduct by Jadis towards Edmund, the full extent of which I have yet to discover. I consider Jadis to be an extremely depraved individual and I can see her acting in the way I've written. I would say kick the rating up a notch for this chapter. You have been warned.

Also! Wathira has very graciously allowed me to borrow the idea that Jadis and her rebellious sister were identical twins. "The Fall of the House of Charn" gives a deliciously wicked insight to the events that lead up to the civil war on Charn which Jadis brought to a rather abrupt end...

The Deplorable Word

I tried. Truly, I tried.

Oreius issued an order that I was not allowed onto the training grounds at all and all my armor and weapons were removed from the armory and stashed away where I couldn't find them. He needn't have bothered going to such lengths because there was no way I could have even stood in full armor, let along swing a sword.

His great uncle, Cheroom, did not teach me so much any more as simply spend time with me, either in my rooms or the library. Mathe occasionally dropped in for an hour or two of easy debating or discussion of history and it was always fun to watch Minovin outfox him at his own game, since she was at least as clever as he and better at puns. Sometimes Dame Utha joined us in the library. I was happy to see them get along so well and she had resigned herself to the Narnian pronunciation of her name. She was very pleased with the prospective officers she was interviewing (for she refused to teach anyone that didn't meet her standards) and was enjoying life here at the Cair. The flinty edge to her that I had noticed at first seemed smoothed by Narnian hospitality and humor. I was sorry to miss her instruction for now, for after a lesson or two I had already fallen behind, but when Peter returned she promised she would make navigators out of us both. Both Utha and the map maker (a Lemur of uncommon ability) had offered suggestions to improve the planned port. She had tried talking to me about a navy, but to my embarrassment I nodded off on the dear woman and she put off the discussion until I could keep awake long enough to carry my end of it.

I listened more than I spoke, bundled up as if for a blizzard in my chair by the fire and constantly thirsty and listless from the loss of so much blood. My rescue of Mrs. Tibs had all but cost me my life. Aslan had reprimanded me gently for not asking for help in the venture, Susan had berated me roundly for going myself and frightening her so completely, and Lucy had hugged me and thanked me for saving the family of Cats. She said that Mrs. Tibs had moved to one of the out buildings by the herb garden, a far dryer and healthier place by all standards. I sat meekly and let everyone have their say, knowing I had scared them all silly and not wanting to stir the pot lest Oreius try to voice his opinion as well.

Oh, how I was trying.

Every waking moment was agony, but sleeping was worse because with sleep came nightmares, and everything that made me weaker made the deathless spell that much stronger.

It was killing me. Gradually, yes, but I could see death was inevitable unless Peter got back very soon. I wasn't eating or sleeping as I should. I was so worn down that I really wasn't as bothered by the prospect of dying as I thought I would (or should) be. My only fear was breaking my promise to my brother.

And so I hung on as best I could. For Peter's sake I would defy Jadis to the last.

Aslan was by my side constantly. I could only imagine what would have happened to me if he had gone into the west with Peter. I would be dead and the quest would be futile. It was that simple.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

A cold red sun, bloated and in the millennia-old throes of death, a pinkish light on a dreamscape I had seen before. An ancient city, once glorious, now too old and worn to be called anything but a ruin. I stood at the top of a long flight of steps with a monstrous and ponderous palace rising high into the gray sky behind me. It was so massive I could see the city below, the choked and diminished riverbed, the crazy network of streets and canals and bridges spread out before me in dull stone.

A mighty din filled the air, a roar of battle. Everywhere people were fighting, riotous and frenzied. Could they even tell who was on what side? Chariots drawn by strange beasts trampled anyone in their path as the fighting spilled onto the steps leading to the palace. Blood ran freely down the streets and the almighty stench was overwhelming.

A presence beside me seized my attention: Jadis, pale and terrible, dressed in magnificent robes and a crown. In her hand she carried a scepter of gold. Her arrogant self-assurance was evident as she stood watching her army get slaughtered.

Then a woman broke through the ranks fighting on the steps. She was stunningly beautiful and with a thrill I realized she was Jadis' twin. But where Jadis was cruel, this woman was wise and good. Her fair hair was tied back in a great mass and in her hand she carried a bloodied sword. She had lead this fight. It was a civil war. In that moment it seemed she and her army had triumphed.

"Bellatrix," whispered Jadis with as much contempt as pity.

"Victory!" Bellatrix shouted at Jadis, defiant and furious, pointing her sword at her sister.

I knew that smile curling Jadis' lips. I had seen it. Felt it. If I could have, I would have warned her sister. But this was a dream and long, long in the past.

"Yes," Jadis agreed, her voice deceptively calm. "Victory, but not yours."

For an instant, realization and shock replaced triumph on her sister's face.

Jadis drew a deep breath, closing her eyes an instant as she prepared herself for...what? When I looked back it wasn't Queen Jadis standing there, but the White Witch in her snowy furs and ice crown staring down at me. Her expression filled me with terror because it held the same mocking affection she had shown me when her abuses had been the most atrocious.

She was in me. She was a part of me. Her blood was fighting to take her final revenge. It had taken over my dreams and brought me to this awful place.

She looked away, releasing me from her thrall for a moment.

And then she uttered a single word.

A visible, silent shockwave spread out across the city like a ripple on a pool, blasting everything its path. Bodies exploded in showers of gore before the force of the word disintegrated them to nothing. People didn't even have a chance to scream before they were dead. Everything was dead. Destroyed. Gone. Her sister, her people. Birds, plants, animals, all the fishes in the sea. Only the cold sun remained. All in an instant. With one word. I knew that Jadis was the only living thing left in the world.

What had she done? What she had done... It couldn't even be said that she had won the war. She simply...hadn't lost.

Horrified, I stared at the spot where Bellatrix had stood. Not even dust remained. I only looked up when Jadis swept into my line of sight, towering over me. I was quaking, too shocked and panicked to move even if I could as she ran her cold hand through my hair.

This was a dream. This was a dream. This was --

She closed her fist and yanked my head back so I had no choice but to look at her. I had no control here. Still, that sneering smile as she bent closer, her hard eyes glittering with delight, her red lips like blood on snow.

She kissed me. The faintest touch of her icy lips pressed to mine in a caress at once delicate and perverse, for she corrupted something as precious as a gesture of love. The contact intensified. Stifling, painful, cruel, it was everything a kiss should never be. Frigid and biting and unnatural. I could not escape her hold. She drank in my terror, fed off of it, just as she had fed off of my innocense when I was her captive.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt almost as much as...

She drew away and touched my lips with a slender, dead-white finger. "Victory," she said softly, "but not yours."

Then she leaned close to my ear.

And uttered a single word.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"ASLAAAAAN!"

Screaming, screaming. Pain unimagined. There was nothing for it, no means of expressing the agony that seized me in its grasp and would not release me. The horrible sound was coming from my own throat and I could not stop. Hot blood on my tongue, running down my neck and front. I writhed and fought, trying to find a way to escape this world of pain, screaming for the only hope of relief I knew.

"LUCY!" roared Aslan.

Tramping feet of guards. My sisters screaming. The panicked voices of the Fauns. Rushing about. Gentle hands restraining me. Calloused hands steadying my head.

Sweet wine mingled with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

I looked at the Lion with unfocused eyes, then fainted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Softness. That and warmth were all I was aware of for the longest time. I could feel the bed and pillows beneath me, the blankets atop me. Every limb seemed to weigh a ton. I had no desire to move and so I lay on the verge of sleep, listening to the faint voices around me.

"My queen?"

"He hasn't moved, Martil," Susan said in hushed tones.

That's because he can't, sister, I thought.

"Did Aslan say...?"

"He doesn't know. Edmund just woke up screaming Aslan's name. You saw him."

"At least the cordial healed his ear drums, Highness, and stopped his nose from bleeding."

"What could do this?"

"The power of the White Witch, good my queen, was further reaching and more diabolical than I think you were witness to when you arrived in Narnia. That she can strike at your brother even beyond death, even in his dreams, surprises me not at all."

That motivated my sleepy thoughts to start exploring my memories for what had occurred. I had no trouble recalling my dream. In my mind's eye I could see it with frightening detail. The war. Twin sisters. Death. I could feel her frigid kiss. Her breath in my ear as she spoke that word with loving vindictiveness...

The word. Even its echo in my mind was painful and I let out a little cry, trying to twist away from my own being. Outstanding. First Jadis had invaded my body, then my dreams, and now my very thoughts were corrupted and being used against me.

"Edmund!" Susan exclaimed quietly, her voice at once frightened and full of hope. "Edmund! Wake up! Martil, fetch Aslan and Queen Lucy!"

I cracked an eye. The room was horribly bright and I couldn't help but wince. Immediately I heard the bed curtains being drawn to block out the worst of the light and I was able to pry open my eyes.

Susan, pale and tired, bent over me. I noticed her hair was unkempt and she had ignored her toilette, but her eyes were bright as she sat on the bed and gently took my hand.

"Edmund, we've been so worried," she whispered, smoothing my hair back with her free hand.

It was a comfort to know I wasn't alone in that, at least. I blinked, feeling stupid and heavy. "What happened?" I asked, shocked at the weakness in my own voice.

Before she could make reply the doors opened and Lucy and Aslan hurried into the room. Lucy was in her robe and slippers. How long had this vigil lasted? With a little squeak, Lucy threw herself right at me. She would have tackled me but for Susan restraining her.

"Careful!" warned Susan.

"Oh, Edmund, you frightened us!" cried my little sister, crushing the fingers of my right hand in her enthusiasm. I wriggled my hand free and held hers.

"What happened?" I wondered again.

"You woke up screaming!" she exclaimed. I flinched at the volume and immediately Lucy piped down as Susan shushed her gently.

"Shh, Lucy. Not so loud. She's right, though," Susan explained. "Two days ago, very early in the morning, you just woke up screaming Aslan's name and thrashing. It was as if you were fighting something awful. Your nose was bleeding and you had burst your eardrums. We finally held you and you collapsed as soon as Lucy gave you more cordial."

Two days ago? Two days? I was glad I'd missed it. I hadn't been fighting, though, I had been trying to escape.

"What happened?" asked Susan.

I sighed, trying to find the words. "I dreamed."

Aslan drew nearer. "Of Jadis?"

I nodded and swallowed. My throat was terribly dry. Silvo, bless him, seemed to realize this and bustled off to fetch me a drink. Moments later Susan helped me to sit up and I drank a cup of warm tea. It tasted atrocious but I didn't care and I swallowed it all before dropping back into the pillows. A wet rag would have been less limp than I was right then.

"I saw a different world," I said. "Very old. The sun was red and burning out."

"Charn," Aslan provided. "It was Jadis' home."

Charn. An ugly name for an ugly world. "There was a war. A civil war. All in the streets. Jadis' twin sister was winning, but just at the end Jadis...she..."

The fear, the panic, the horror came back in a rush and I gasped for air.

"Shh," soothed Susan.

All I needed now was to hyperventilate. I looked to Aslan and in his gaze I saw nothing but calmness and understanding. Thus assured, I felt my breath come easier.

"She said a word," I managed, then let out a cry as I unconsciously recalled the word and pain worse than the most terrible headache exploded in my mind again. "She...killed...her whole world," I gulped, determined to have done with the tale. "Everyone! And then...she said it...to me - aaaagh!"

I tried to cover my ears, but the sound of her voice was in my mind, not on my lips, and the gesture was futile. There was no blocking out her evil now. I tasted blood and felt pressure on my face and I knew I had a nose bleed. Aslan moved forward and I felt my hair stir as he breathed on me. It was a comforting and sweet sensation.

"Peace," whispered Aslan, locking eyes with me. I wished he could take the word away, banish it from my mind forever. I didn't want to know it. I didn't want it to be part of me. Jadis was bad enough but now she had burdened me with her ultimate power and evil. Was she mocking me, tempting me, appealing to the conniving and calculating little bastard that I had been when I first came here and fell under her sway? Even dead she was still trying to avenge herself on me, on Narnia, and on Aslan.

"Peace," he whispered again, his voice somehow growing even more gentle as the turmoil in me grew.

"Don't let me talk," I begged the Lion. "Don't let me think. Aslan, take it away from me, please!"

There were tears in his eyes. Tears that were absent from my own. I would not cry for her sake, but he would cry for mine. I knew that this one of those instances where I would not like his answer to my prayer. He moved forward and rested his head on my lap, his great tears wetting the blankets. I wrapped my arms as far around his neck as I could and lost myself in the soft roughness of his mane.

"Please," I pleaded.

"Peace," he said for the third time.

If only I knew the meaning of the word.