A/N: Well, sorry this is so short, but at least it's on time, eh? :D I'll try to have the next chapter up sometime this week, but no guarantees, unfortunately. :(
Last but not least, today, January 31, is the last day to vote in Narnia Fanfiction Revolution's Awards! Cast your vote by following the link at the top of our profile page if you haven't already!
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"Galma? Are you sure?"
"Aye, sire. I saw it with my own eyes. There was no mistaking her battleflags."
High King Peter, his fair hair falling limp over his brow, sighed and leaned heavily on the cartography table, dropping his circleted head between his shoulders. "How did you stumble across them, Enna? Aramir? Where? I wish to hear it word for word."
The fox that had dashed up the hillside to see the sight for himself scoffed, obviously thinking that the king had deemed his word as somewhat less than trustful.
Even with Aramir's hand supporting her trembling elbow, Enna could still see the vastness of the Galmanian army every time she closed her eyes. "There was a cat, and it ran up the hill—we chased it, and there was a—a bear, and then—the Galmanians!"
Peter looked at Aramir for clarification.
"Sire, there was a small cat that stole the tie from Enna's hair. She insisted on chasing the blasted thing through camp and up the hill, where we lost it and instead stumbled upon a Dumb bear, which in turn attacked us. We slew it, and then the cat decided to waltz on by again, and Enna followed it to the crest of the hill, over which she looked and thus saw the Galmanian host camped in the valley below."
Enna nodded. "Aye. And, by the smoke from their fires, it seemed to me that they are in no great hurry."
Peter sighed and looked down at the numerous maps spread out on the table, dappled with golden midmorning sunlight shining through the green boughs of the trees overhead. "I see. And was it a great host?"
"Aye, very," Enna replied. "At least a hundred and fifty score, certainly more."
"Three thousand," Peter murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair. His advisors and King Edmund looked on silently, obviously all unwilling to suggest any potentially counterproductive or unsuccessful strategies.
"How great is our number?" Enna said after a brief pause, hoping to stimulate Peter's military mind.
"We are no greater than a thousand, ourselves," Peter sighed.
Enna bit her lip. "Can we not avoid them…?"
"Avoid them?" Peter laughed shortly. "Is the aim of this campaign not to thwart the Galmanians from invading Narnia further?"
"I meant," Enna replied a bit crossly, before she remembered her promise. She softened her tone. "I naturally assume that there are far more than three thousand Narnians. Perhaps we ought to circle around the Galmanians and reinforce our numbers."
"The young lady speaks wisdom, sire," said a faun in royal livery.
"But you neglect to remember Beruna," Peter replied, fisting his hands on the table. "We must stop the Galmanians from capturing Beruna at whatever cost. Come here, Enna, and look at the map."
Enna glanced once at Aramir, who let go of her elbow, before going around the table and looking down at the well-worn scroll. "Aye. We are within seven leagues of Beruna."
"That is at less than four days' travel, if the armies make good time through the pass," Peter said, looking at her with stormy blue eyes.
She sighed, tracing the path of the Great River with her finger. "I see."
"If it were any time else, your suggestion would be feasible."
"I see. I am sorry for questioning you." As Enna spoke, she gazed down at the map, a little paperweight marking the position of the Narnian camp at the base of the Lithil highlands. A break in the clusters of hills west of the camp marked the beginning of the pass, and circled around the ridge that she and Aramir had climbed up earlier before straightening out briefly in the valley where the Galmanians were encamped and then continuing on its twisted way.
"The only alternative I can think of," Peter said in frustration a few moments later, "is to direct the army over the hill and charge down it into the midst of the enemy."
Enna didn't say anything, but that strategy seemed rather…dangerous.
"Do you have a death wish?" King Edmund asked. "Such a tactic would be near suicide. The hillside is heavily wooded and steep, and a straight charge down it would be nearly impossible."
"Well, then," Peter snapped, "do you have a better idea, my royal brother?"
Enna, who had been looking carefully at the map, bit her lip. "I might, Peter."
Everyone stared at her.
Peter sighed and leaned on the table again. "Speak it, then."
"If we cannot use the high ground to our advantage," Enna said slowly and calculatingly, tapping the map, "then we cannot. But we may use other natural virtues to our advantage."
"Continue," Peter said, a contemplative look on his face.
She took a breath. "The Lithil Downs pass opens up just west of camp. The Galmanian army is encamped here"—she jabbed at the map—"in the widest region of the Pass, before it narrows and begins to meander. Do you follow?"
"Aye, so far."
"If we can somehow pin the army against these hills," she went on, tracing the part of the Downs that protruded out from the rest of hills and made the Pass narrower, "then we will have the advantage."
Peter leaned over her shoulder, watching her trace a path from the camp to the suggested battlefield. "I follow. Do you have any suggestions as to how to pin them against the hills?"
The slightly scornful tone of his voice was not lost on Enna, but she ignored it and tapped her chin in thought. "We might come along the Pass here, and, instead of meeting them head on here, we come in in long rows and shallow columns and swing like a door to force them against the cliffs."
A pregnant pause followed.
Peter cleared his throat. "Show me that again, and use this quill to signify the Narnians."
Enna obliged and, holding the pen against the map, moved it through the Pass and then turned it gently to the left as though she were sweeping bits of dust away. "Do you see?"
"I think I do," Peter replied. "Edmund, Orieus, come here and observe. Enna, kindly demonstrate once again."
Enna, rather disconcerted now that King Edmund and the High Constable were watching, repeated the movement.
"I see, sire," said the centaur.
"And? What do you and my royal brother think of the idea?"
"I think it viable," said Orieus. "Galma has no knowledge of our armies' proximity, and my mind has not conjured up any immediate misgivings."
"If we wish for this tactic to work," put in King Edmund, "we must plug up the northern end of the pass once our armies have passed through it. Thus, the Galmanians will either have to retreat southward or fight."
"Excellent," said Peter, thumping the table, an urgent glint in his eyes. "So it shall be. Orieus, see to it that all Narnians are armored and equipped with weaponry. I wish it that the cats, bulls, bears, and dogs proceed at the vanguard, and impede the Galmanians' preparation as much as possible, and retreat when that army gathers its strength. At this time, we, having entered the Pass, will advance into the valley, our main strength concentrated as Lady Enna has described, shoulder-to-shoulder, flank-to-flank, in two rows. The smaller warriors I desire to be evenly spaced between the larger ones, so our extent will be as uniform as possible. I want the winged warriors equipped with boulders and other projectiles, and they are to be overhead at all times. Put Targu and Eena the elephants in the rear, and keep them in the pass to reinforce our block. (Make sure that the mice are far in the front.) When this is completed, we shall move as Lady Enna has illustrated.
"As for the archers, I want them placed among the trees on the hillsides, where they can be within easy range and yet well-shielded by the flora. They are to keep a steady broadside of arrows upon the enemy, reinforcing…no, preceding and reinforcing our advancement. Command Field Marshal Piretus that he has license to advance or retreat his archers if need arises, but only if the severest need arises."
He paused, drawing a deep breath. "I also wish it that my royal sister stays with the archers."
"Lucy will not love you the more for it," King Edmund said wryly.
"As long as she survives this battle, I do not care a whit what she thinks," Peter replied. "Enna? Aramir? If you do not wish to fight, then say so now and I will not hold it against you."
Enna, whose head was spinning with the idea that the High King of Narnia, his brother, and the High Constable had agreed with and supported her little strategy, stammered, "Well, I—erm…"
"She means absolutely not, Your Majesty," Aramir interrupted. "We are Narnian citizens, and we will fight for her."
Peter put his hands at his waist and looked at Enna, and she nodded.
"Very well. Enna, you will join the archers. Aramir, I want you in the columns of fightingmen. You will have to be armored better than you are now."
"What about me, Peter?" Enna protested. "Should I not be armored, as well?"
"You will be in the trees, Enna, far from harm."
"Yet your other archers are dressed for battle," she replied.
Peter, obviously keen to begin, waved his hand distractedly. "Very well. Make sure Her Majesty Lucy is made ready, as well. And Enna—please. Will you try to keep her in her place? Don't let her leave your sight, or she'll get into mischief."
Enna curtsied, her heart pounding with adrenaline already. "Aye, Peter."
"Then away with you both. For Narnia!"
"And for Aslan," Enna heard Aramir murmur.