I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. But I'm back in the swing! This chapter is dedicated to Shauna and SubOrbital, who put up with my depression-induced crankiness last night.
Swallowing hard, Lucy chanced a glance downwards. The rope extended what seemed to be a little more than three-quarters of the way to the bottom. She didn't see Ed anywhere, but there was an outcropping somewhere near the ground that he could well be under, so she looked back up and began to slowly lower herself down, hand-over-hand with her feet braced on the outer wall. She tried to move as gradually as possible, knowing that any sudden movements would exponentially increase the amount of weight Peter already had to bear. It was a marvel he could hold her at all, and she didn't want to push him. He would need his strength if he was going to battle his way out of that whole mob, which he was going to – she told herself this fiercely – it didn't matter what he said he could or couldn't do; he had never failed in battle yet and he wasn't about to now.
About seven feet down from where she'd started, the rope suddenly slid down a good three feet, making her scream and clutch it desperately. It jerked to a halt, yanking her arms painfully, and it took a good minute to calm her racing heart as she looked down at what could have been her doom. Only when her fear for her own life had passed did she even stop to consider what might've caused it – something had caused Peter to either stagger backwards three feet, or drop it for an instant. Whatever it was, she knew she had very little time.
She began to climb more quickly, refusing to let herself look down. Every time she did, she would stop moving for a minute, and she didn't have enough spare minutes to keep doing it, so she forced herself, counting in her head, twenty feet down, nineteen, eighteen…when her foot came past the place where the rope ended, she looked down again – the rope had not been terrifically long to start with, and there was still about six feet of air between her boots and the ground. She summoned the valiance that the Narnians had come to know her for, and prepared herself to let go.
She never had the chance. The rope abruptly went slack, plummeting the last stretch with her, slithering out the window. She screamed as she fell, still clutching the rope, but her fall came to an end a little sooner than she'd expected, and Edmund grunted in pain as he caught her in his outstretched arms.
"By Aslan, Lu," he grumbled, depositing her on the ground less than ceremoniously. "Do you mean to deafen a chap, or crush him?"
"Neither, Edmund, I'm sorry," she said, then threw her arms around his neck, tears springing to her eyes again.
"Is Peter coming?" he asked, detangling himself from her embrace. He cast a glance at the window skeptically.
"You won't believe this," she said furiously, trying to hide her fear. "He…"
"…told us to leave without him," Ed said as if it were plainer than pudding. He looked tired and worn, and still bore the marks from his fight earlier, ugly bruises and scabbed cuts, but his eyes were glinting darkly. When she nodded, he gritted his teeth and looked again at the window. He seemed to think for a moment, then bent down and gathered the rope, coiling it and tucking it into his belt, except for one end which he left hanging down just a touch.
"Well, what are we doing?" Lucy asked perplexedly.
"Rescuing him, of course," Edmund said in the most matter-of-fact voice. He began to lead the way around the edge of the castle, pulling up the loose end of the rope and looping it up to make a sort of noose on the end, tied with a slipknot. Lucy's heart leapt at the prospect, but her eager smile faded slightly as she saw the limp in her brother's step.
"Are you…are you well enough to fight?" she questioned.
"Don't be a Peter, Edmund told her, now beginning to tie knots at various intervals on the rope. "He kept doing that, shoving me into hiding spots and fighting my battles for me, claiming I was 'still too weak,' blah blah blah. I'm just a little banged up is all. If I don't think about it, it doesn't hurt."
"All right," she said. She came to a halt beside him as he scanned the next wall, until his eyes settled on a stone gargoyle about a third of the way up the castle, and a small 'aha' escaped his lips.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.
"You're just full of questions today," he muttered. He began to swing the rope back and forth above the ground, getting it to pick up momentum. At last, when it was a blur, whirring through the air beside his head, he threw it upward. It arced beautifully, but still hit the wall and slid back down. It took him two more tries before he got it on the fourth, securing the loop he'd made around the ugly gargoyle's head. "That's what I'm doing. There's no way to get in the gates, they locked them after I escaped. I know, because I tried to get back in and help our moronically heroic brother."
There was a large window a few feet to the side of the gargoyle, Lucy noticed; Ed had picked it well. He pulled it taut, and she nodded and immediately stepped forward. It was different than climbing trees, which she was quite good at, and her hands already ached, but the knots he had tied made it much easier; it only took her about five minutes to reach the window, which she quickly grasped hold of and managed wriggle her way inside. Edmund followed a few moments later, groaning and tumbling off the sill to land in a heap on the floor.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked him as he clutched at his bruised ribs, eyes shut tight.
"Too late to turn back now," he said, rolling onto his side and letting her push him half-upright. With the assisting hand she offered him, he managed to stagger to his feet and draw his sword. She pulled out her dagger. Peter would have immediately told her to put it away, but Edmund merely gave her a solemn nod and they set off down the deserted corridor. It wasn't hard to determine where Peter was; the sound of a battle leaked through the floor above them, and they could hear screams and the thud of bodies striking the floor.
The two youngest Pevensies, who were not quite so young anymore, took off down the hallway and up the first flight of stairs they could find, emerging into a long, wide hallway that was empty on the edges, but packed at the center, where a mob of skeletal bodies was attempting to force its way through an open door that sounded as if it was expelling them as they came; several would go flying back into the crowd a second after they entered, and others seemed to just disappear. There was already a heap of dismembered corpses blocking the entryway. Edmund and Lucy shared one last glance before sprinting forward, weapons raised.
"For Narnia!" Edmund cried, his limp gone as he charged.
"For Aslan!" Lucy echoed, her dagger poised.
And then they were upon them, smashing their foes aside as the two barreled into the thick of the battle, blades slashing limbs from already-dead bodies until they were standing before the doorway. Edmund leapt in first, parrying the blow that almost took his head from his shoulders. Lucy slipped under his arm and into the room as Edmund glared fiercely at his older brother, who (aside from bearing several new and nasty wounds) was looking as if he'd been rudely insulted.
"You!" he bellowed over the battle-noise, stare still fixated on Edmund as his fist connected with an enemy that was attempting to sneak up on the younger king.
" Moron!" Edmund yelled.
Lucy flew to Peter's side, seizing his hand as Edmund sheathed his sword, slapped Peter across the face and plunged his hand into his belt-pouch almost all at once. And then the world blurred, swirling around them as they were borne away, feeling the warmth return to their limbs.