Slow Burn

"King Edmund? Your pardon, Sire," said a Naiad. She stood dripping in the entrance of the tent. "General Oreius asks that you join him immediately. He's with your brother."

I glanced beyond her and realized it was very late in the afternoon and barely light out. Phillip and I had been talking all this while. I scrambled to my feet and dusted off bits of hay.

"I'll let you know how he is," I promised the Horse. "Get some rest."

"And you, my king," he returned.

I hurried through the camp to our pavilion and the moment I entered I knew everything was wrong. Peter was struggling weakly against Felern in delirious panic and Oreius was trying to keep my brother from hurting himself even more.

"Quickly, Edmund," ordered Oreius, and I wouldn't realize until much later that he used no title to address me, a true indicator of his distress. "We must calm him down. He doesn't believe you're alive."

Oh, Peter. I pushed past Felern and took my brother's face in both hands, making him look at me. He was sweaty and his eyes were lost and frightened, like a little child, but as he focused on me he stilled. His breath was coming in great pants and clearly he was in a world of pain and confusion. I had never seen him like this and it scared me as much as any nightmare I had envisioned these past months.

"Shhh," I whispered to him. "Easy, Peter. It's Edmund. I'm right here. See? I'm right here. I won't leave you. You're stuck with me forever, you poor fellow. Shhh. Shhh." I smoothed his hair away from his face. He stared at me, his breathing gradually slowing. He was limp and exhausted, but he had calmed down. With a quiet sob he leaned against me and I held him tightly, slowly rocking him, terrified at how thin and frail he felt in my arms. He had no strength to fight this infection and I had so little strength of my own to give him.

"Slide over," I said, giving him a nudge. Still holding him, I sat on the bed. Felern obligingly yanked off my boots and removed my cape, and I climbed in with Peter. He rested heavily against me and I welcomed his weight, wishing he was heavier. It struck me that sharing a bedroom (and very often a bed) with Peter was what I had missed the most all these months. Felern gestured at a cup in his hands and I looked at Peter.

"Are you thirsty?" I asked, and he nodded. "Lift your head and drink a little."

He managed a few sips before he put his head down and we watched as he gradually fell asleep. I held him warm and close, heartbreak and fear replacing the joy of reunion.

"Oreius," I said quietly, "please ask Aslan to come here. I need to speak to him."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I almost fell asleep waiting for Aslan. I had not had a proper sleep in days and despite my enthusiasm about getting here I really hadn't been in any condition to ride so far. My chest still ached, though nowhere near as badly as a week ago, and it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten in ages. When Aslan entered the tent, I just sat up slightly, unwilling to disturb Peter now that he was peacefully sleeping. Oreius waited outside, gesturing for Felern to join him. He knew that what I had to say was not for anyone's ears but Aslan's.

"Aslan, he's not good."

He looked away from Peter and at me. "I know, dear child. I know."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"Yes," he said in a voice both deep and steady. "I'm doing it. I'm waiting for your sisters to arrive with the cordial."

I sighed. That was not the answer I wanted. I gnawed on my chapped lip, thinking hard. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Like me, you can wait."

Not so calmly, I thought. Peter muttered in his sleep and I stroked his hair until he settled down again.

"But . . ." A thought struck me. "Would an apple from the Tree of Protection restore him?"

"It would. Not as quickly as the cordial, but just as completely. But Edmund, there is only one apple growing and it's meant for you."

I pressed my folded hands to my lips, thinking hard, choosing my words with care, trying to convey my absolute certainty. "Aslan, I am a knight of Narnia. The motto of my order is Sacrifice. If you and Jadis have taught me anything at all, it's that virtue. I am Sir Edmund How," I said, using the condensed form of the title Peter had bestowed on me, "and there is nothing I would not do or give for my brother the High King."

Aslan stared long and hard, though not so hard that I had to look away. He was searching for something in me and evidentially he found it, because finally he nodded. "So be it, Sir Edmund."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"You're an idiot!" I whispered tightly, trying - and failing - to stay mad at Peter for his steadfast refusal to eat the apple. Why did he have to be slightly lucid right now? Why couldn't he have just said yes? Of course after he recovered the guilt would do him in, but the Tree would bloom again and bear more fruit. I could have waited. This was Peter at his stubborn best and I leaned over and kissed him on the temple rather than strangle him. He was burning hot beneath my lips and I could not help but think of Jadis and her burning cold kiss. I banished the thought. She did not deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as my brother, let alone the same thought.

Peter smiled and settled deeper into the bedding, pulling me closer and wrapping himself around me. "Lucky for you."

He was asleep almost instantly and I was helpless before him. Not even I could stay mad at him when he was like this. After a little while I shifted slightly so I could see him better by the faint lamp light. He barely looked like my brother. I tired circling his wrist with my fingers and they touched.

"Oh, Peter," I whispered, curling his hand in mine and holding it to my chest, a silent prayer rising in my thoughts. His broken arm was neatly padded and splinted and his flesh was hot and swollen from the infection caused by the break. I had never broken a bone, but it just looked painful.

I stayed there all night, dozing now and then. He vomited once and I could do nothing but steady him as he was sick. When a dream gripped him and he struggled against some night demon, I held him and soothed his fears. I could only imagine what adventures he and Phillip had gone through, what fears and glory and laughter. He rested his fevered head on my chest, mumbling in his sleep.

"Shh, Peter," I whispered. "You're all right. You're home and I'm right here."

"Ed?" he gasped, lifting his head. He looked at me without seeing, confused.

"Right here," I said reassuringly. He wasn't really awake, I could tell. "I'm right here. You're back in Narnia." Felern hurried over with more herbal tea for the fever. "I need you to drink this."

"No," he snapped petulantly, sounding like a four-year-old. He put his head back down before the harassed Dwarf could say a word. Well. So much for that. I suppressed a laugh and took the damp cloth from Felern's hand to wipe the sweat from Peter's face, then lifted his broken arm so the healer could put another pillow beneath it to keep it elevated.

"How is he, Felern?"

The Dwarf's blue eyes were filled with worry. "No better. He's dehydrated and this fever is rising."

"My sisters are on their way. Lucy's cordial will set him aright."

"Pray Aslan they get here soon then, my king."

His tone frightened me. "Please go check and see if there's been any word on the queens." Susan and Lucy must be exhausted by now, having ridden through the night like I had, but from a greater distance away from the Lantern Waste. I should have just brought Lucy with me. I should have -

"Right away, Sire."

I jumped, startled, but Peter didn't stir and I barely noticed Felern's exit, concentrating instead on my brother. His skin was flushed and terribly hot and his long hair was sweaty. I wiped his face and neck again, unintentionally rousing him from his stupor.

"Edmund?" he whispered in a voice that broke my heart.

"I'm right here, Peter."

"I was . . . so worried . . ."

"I know. I was worried for you. We've both had a rough time of it."

"The spell?"

"I haven't been stabbed since you planted the tree. This is the fourth night since then. Or maybe the fifth. I don't know. I just know I'm so happy to see you back."

"You saved me," he whispered, clearly eager to share this bit of his quest. "And your knife. In the valley. Against the Host of the Air. I remembered how you fight. And I fought like you . . ."

I had no idea of what he was going on about, but it sounded as if Peter had finally taken a page out of my book. "Low and dirty?" I asked, thrilled. I would have given anything to see that. Now why couldn't I have dreamed of that instead of being shackled in an ice dungeon?

He slowly smiled, his voice raspy and weak as he gently teased me. "I thought you preferred 'underhanded.'"

"Whatever works," I replied. I lifted the cup of tea Felern had left. I recognized the smell. "You need to drink this."

He made a face and I made one right back and reluctantly he drank a mouthful. Immediately he acted as if he had just been poisoned, swallowing with effort.

"What is that?"

"Disgusting," I said, an authority since I had drunk gallons of the stuff for the last two months. "It's for nausea."

"It worked," he gasped.

Oh, no, not again. He clawed his way to the edge of the bed and I could only steady him as he vomited bile. I climbed out of the hammock and fetched him some water to rinse his mouth out, crouching beside him as he spit the water into the basin on the ground.

"Your aim is improving."

He flopped down onto the pillows with a groan, shivering with sudden cold despite the fact that he was burning up. "If only my headache would, too."

I leaned over and kissed his cheek, wishing this night would end.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was well past midnight and I sat up in the hammock with Peter's head on my lap, Aslan lying close beside me. Unconsciously I rocked back and forth to the slow rhythm of the Lion's long breaths, lulling myself into a stupor. I was almost asleep where I sat, worn out and not quite recovered from anything that had befallen me of late, be it physical or emotional. I knew I had eaten at one point but I couldn't remember when or what, just Oreius putting a bowl of something in my hands and ordering me to eat. Peter breathed in shuddering gasps, shivers gripping him on occasion. He was so wane, his lips chapped and bluish, looking more sunken than when I arrived. He had not roused since the last time we spoke. I stared at him in the faint lamp light and suddenly I couldn't bear it any longer. Nothing was worth watching my brother slip away. Not even if he condemned my decision.

I may not win, but I would not lose either. Not Peter. Not to Jadis.

"Aslan?" I croaked, everything I owned aching with pain and emotion. Tears slid down my cheeks but I didn't care.

He looked up, waiting for me to continue. Just like my brother before me, I was at the end of my endurance and Aslan knew it.

"Please fetch the apple."

For a moment I thought he might refuse. Then he rose in all his majesty. He stood gazing at me, his eyes full of understanding, and he leaned over and kissed me gently, his huge forehead pressed to mine in a moment of communion.

"As you wish, my son."

Thank you . . .

He left, leaving me with my brother and my anguished thoughts. My fatigue and anxiety overwhelmed me and I bent far over, cradling Peter as I broke down into tears. Months ago Aslan had gently reminded me that even though I was a king I was still a child and I was not Peter. He was right. I wasn't. This was not a time for nobility, but necessity, and if I had borne Jadis this long I could and would go on bearing her presence until the tree had fruit again. I had to bear it. Anything was better than life without Peter. Indeed, I didn't think there could be life without him. He had destroyed himself for my sake. I tried to rise above the feeling of hopelessness but only succeeded in sinking lower.

And then . . . horns. Long and sweet, the notes announced word of Narnia's queens. I gasped, raising my head, wondering if I had dreamed the sound. No, it came again. And again. I didn't know how far they were from here, but it wouldn't be long before Susan and Lucy reached us and both of Narnia's kings would be delivered. Voices, excited and anxious, rose up and the Dogs started barking. I just sat there weakly crying, relief replacing grief in a glorious and devastating rush, flooding through me and my prayers.

Thank you . . .