A/N: Well, the results are in for Narnia Fanfiction Revolution's Awards. Alas, we didn't win anything, but that's okay. After all, the point of writing Narnia fanfics is to entertain readers and pay homage to Lewis, not win awards! :D Thanks to all those that voted for us—your support means a lot!
Maybe next year we'll win the best sequel award, eh? ;D
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"I cannot believe my oaf of a brother has commanded me to stay here, on the sidelines. Me! Lucy the Valiant! Queen of Narnia! Warrior and swordswoman of the highest order!"
"And a young girl," Enna said, combing her hair back into a plait. "Your Majesty forgets your youth."
"Youth? Pah! I could take on those Galmanian chowderheads any day! No offense meant, of course."
"None taken, I assure you."
Queen Lucy kicked a clod of mud as she struggled with a large mail shirt. "Oh, I will have Peter's head when this scuffle is over with. I hate it when he goes all jealous on me like this."
"Perhaps he is simply watching out for his sister. Three of Narnia's four monarchs cannot be in the same battle together—you know this. It is foolish."
"It may be so," Queen Lucy grumbled. "But why could Edmund not wait here?"
"He is a warrior king, Your Majesty."
"And I am a warrior queen! I see no difference!"
Enna sighed in exasperation, tugging at her own chain mail and cinching a leather belt on over it. "You are younger than he."
"You forget your age, Enna!" Lucy exploded. "You are not that much older than I!"
"I will be nineteen in a fortnight," Enna replied calmly, refusing to be goaded into an argument with the young girl. "You are scarcely seventeen summers."
"But—"
"Your brothers have commanded you, Queen Lucy," Enna warned, "and I recommend that you heed their word."
Queen Lucy harrumphed unhappily, still scowling, and put a scarlet jerkin on over her mail shirt. It clashed terribly with her mauve skirt, but she didn't seem to care. "It was smart of them to let us keep a pair of horses—I would have been very unhappy should we have been obliged to stand the whole time."
"Perhaps," Enna said noncommittally, reaching down to adjust her boots.
"I am very excited to see Narnia rout the Galmanians. Aren't you?"
"You seem very sure of an easy victory."
"Have I not reason? My brother's strategy is a brilliant one."
It was my strategy, thought Enna, but didn't say anything about it. "Do you need help with your quiver?"
"A bit," admitted the young queen, trying to get the article on over her armor. "Susan is the archer of the four of us, not I. But I shall try, believe me. I want to kill a Galmanian!"
Her words fazed Enna only slightly, and she helped her buckle on her quiver before slipping her own over her shoulder. "I shall aim only to aid our army."
"Well, I don't blame you. The enemy are your people, after all."
"They are not my people any longer," Enna replied shortly, Lucy's words stinging. She had denounced them, yes, but they still shared a common blood, a collective history and culture. It would not be easy, to fire arrows into their midst.
"True." Queen Lucy buckled her vambrace snugly and helped Enna do the same. "I admire your grit, Enna, I really do. I could never kill Narnians."
"Narnians have not caused you as much grief as Galma has caused me, Your Majesty."
Queen Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but her words were cut across by a centaur's muffled battle horn. "Ah—finally!" she exclaimed, running to the tent flap and flinging it aside. "We are mobilizing."
"Go on, let's get up on our horses, then," Enna urged, nudging her out of the tent. "You know who the archers are? And where to find them?"
"Aye. I will lead us to them."
Enna nodded and turned to her horse, a big grey beast with a rather ancient-looking saddle. "Pity you aren't a Talking Horse," she said to it as she slipped one foot into the stirrup.
"I doubt a Talking Horse will do much good where we're going to be situated," replied the thing.
Enna started with surprise and fell flat on her back in the muddy grass. "You—you're a Talking Horse, after all!" she exclaimed, staring up at it.
"Aye? And what of it?"
"Well—shouldn't you be with His Majesty's troops, rather than seating me?"
"I'm twenty-nine summers old," yawned the horse. "I doubt I'd be much help at the front lines."
"Enna, are you all right? I saw you fall off!"
Aramir's freckled face loomed above hers, and she stiffly sat up. "Aye, aye, I'm fine."
He gave her his gauntleted hand and hoisted her to her feet. "That'll ache in the morning, I'll warrant."
"Unfortunately, so will many other things before the day is done." She got a good look at him as she stood—he was fully outfitted in Narnian battle-dress, his gleaming pauldrons glinting in the near-noon sun. "You look very official," she noted, eyeing the extent of his armor: mail everywhere, Arondight buckled at his scarlet-clad waist, a glinting helmet under his arm, gold-inlaid greaves clanging against his shins.
"As do you," he replied. "How does mail feel?"
"Hot, heavy, and terribly itchy." Enna sighed. "How do you put up with it?"
Before he could answer, the battle-horn sounded again, and he straightened. "Well, I…I guess this is goodbye for now."
"I suppose so." Enna scuffed the toe of her boot along the ground, dragging up bits of grass and mud. The pause between them was painful, but Enna had never prepared for battle before! What was one supposed to say before plunging into such blind danger? Aramir mimicked her movement seemingly unintentionally and cleared his throat.
"Aramir!" Queen Lucy, holding a satchel in her hands, came out of the tent. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with my brother?"
"Aye," he replied. "I was just…saying goodbye to Enna."
"Well, I'd get on with it, then."
Aramir nodded. "Aye, Your Majesty."
Enna looked up at him, her stomach churning as the full import of the moment came crashing over her. He could die today, and she would never see him again.
"Wish me luck?" he asked.
She cleared her throat, frowning. "Aye. Aye, good luck, Aramir."
They shook hands briskly and turned away from each other, the jangle of Aramir's armor fading away as he went off and Enna mounted her horse, who snorted and put its ears back at her clumsy efforts.
"That's all you had to say to each other?" Lucy asked, shouldering her satchel and mounting her steed easily.
Enna cleared her throat again. "What would you have had us say instead?"
"Oh, I don't know—but something more meaningful than 'good luck'! Anyone can wish anyone 'good luck.'"
The young queen urged her horse into a fast walk, and Enna's mount followed. "But I do wish him luck."
"You ought to have wished him Aslan's guidance," Lucy replied archly. "Or protection in battle. Not luck! And it is hardly ladylike to shake hands, you know—the least you could have done was offer him your handkerchief as a token of your affection."
Enna snorted. "I have no affection for him."
"Not romantically, then," Lucy conceded. "But you are fond of him, that much I can tell."
"Well, why should I not be?" Enna's mount put its ears back at her sharp tone. "Have we not both come from similar circumstances?"
Queen Lucy looked at her in alarm. "Well, aye, but there's no need to get all snappy!"
It was Enna's turn to harrumph, and the rest of the short ride went by in silence. The rest of the archers were assembled in neat columns at the foot of the hill, and a faun in fine livery was pacing worriedly in front of them.
"Ah, Your Majesty!" he cried when he spotted them.
"I apologize for our tardiness, Marshal Piretus," Lucy replied, reining her horse in. "It was quite my fault."
"Never you mind, Your Majesty, what matters is that you are here now. You have heard our orders, I presume?"
"Aye."
"Then I will not trifle with explaining the details a second time. But we will climb up this slope here, though not straight up—we will advance upward and rightward, at an angle that will make our ascent easier."
"Aye, I follow."
"We do not fire upon the Galmanians until we see that the vanguard has entered the camp," Piretus continued, speaking rapidly and without taking a breath. "Once they have, however, I will direct the courses of our arrows."
"Aye, Piretus."
"How strange it is, to be giving orders to my queen!" the faun murmured to himself. Lucy giggled, but he clapped his hands. "Never mind that! Onward and upward!"
Once again, Enna entered the dark and silent forest that shaded the rocky hillside. It wasn't so bad this time around, however, for she had Queen Lucy, who was humming a gay tune, on her right, and to the left were the ten or eleven dozen bipedal Narnians that were clambering up the slope, their arrows and bows clattering around in their quivers. In fact, she might have been quite at ease, had they not been climbing up to a battlefield.
As the sunlight that shone through the thinning trees grew brighter and brighter, Piretus motioned for silence, and the Narnians inched toward the crest of the hill as quietly as they could manage. The distant sounds of an army camp wafted up to them from the valley below, and plumes of smoke from the tar-kindled fires drifted lazily through the clear blue sky. As the band came up over the rocky crown, the valley spread itself out below them and the full size of the Galmanian army dawned on the archers, whose eyes widened in fear. A few snippets of words and officers' orders came to Enna's ear as her horse perched on the flat rocks, and the accents were so wonderfully familiar that she almost smiled before she remembered her place. Once, there was a rough shout, and the Narnians shied back farther into the trees, thinking that they had been spotted, but Enna shook her head: "That's ancient Galmanian for 'pass that bottle of wine'."
"It sounds so barbaric," Queen Lucy said, aghast.
"Well, Galmanian wine is a barbaric drink," Enna sighed.
Suddenly, over the clamor of sailors' voices and other army noises, there came a sound that made the hairs on the back of Enna's neck stand straight on end—it was the great cats, their horrid shrieking roars echoing up from the valley. At first, the shouting of men was heard only in the far side of the canyon, but as the beasts drove further into it and the word spread, a rumble of panic swelled up until it echoed off of every cliff and hillside, and the Galmanian army was in a tizzy of fright. Great, winged griffins and cruel-clawed eagles, bearing moss-covered stones, hurtled overhead, adding their own unique calls to the clamor of men, beasts, and heavy boulders slamming into the earth.
"Ready arrows!" came the shout from behind Enna. She scrabbled for her bow and, her hands shaking, fitted a white-fletched arrow to it.
"Aim!"
She tried not to sight at anything in particular, but there was some stupid lump just standing in the midst of the chaos, right at her target level.
"Fire!"
"Move, you halfwit!" she bellowed as her arrow left her bow. But the lummox continued to stand in place, and a second later, he crumpled to the ground, Enna's arrow deep in his neck.
"Excellent shot!" Queen Lucy cried. "I got a captain!"
Enna leaned over her saddle and retched. Her horse snorted unhappily and shifted quickly to the side, eyeing her darkly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, wiping her mouth with her rough glove. Killing a bear had been one thing—but a man? A Galmanian man? That was another matter entirely.
"Ready arrows!" came the order from behind again.
Her hands were trembling so violently that she could scarcely draw another arrow from her quiver, but Enna forced herself to go through with it.
"Aim!"
Clenching her jaw to stop its quavering, Enna's breath came in shaky gasps as she lined up her arrow with a standard bearer who was waving his flag in front of a growing column of soldiers.
"Fire!"
Her arrow missed its fatal mark, but it shot a hole through the hateful white banner with the blazing red sun, and, at that moment, the Galmanian army realized the archers' position.
"Fire at will!" Piretus cried as red-fletched arrows began to break through the tree branches.
One landed particularly near Enna's horse as she took aim, and her arrow flew off-target, catching some poor page in the foot. "Concentrate, Enna!" Queen Lucy called, sending off perfectly aimed arrows every few seconds.
Over the din of battle, though, a horn blew a clear note that wavered in the air for a long moment. "Oh, thank the Lion, the army's comin' through!" cried one satyr, clicking its heels in excitement.
The Galmanian army, holding their round, leather-covered shields over their heads to staunch the hail of arrows, got into line, and, their red and white banners waving, rushed forward to engage the Narnian army, two long rows of steadfastly marching, glinting-armored warriors. Somewhere in that mass of conflict, Enna thought unsteadily, Aramir had his sword drawn and was preparing to bend it against his fellow man for the first time. And Peter, the king, would fall under certain and relentless attack.
"Oh, Lucy, I cannot bear to watch!" she burst out, turning away.
Lucy cuffed her arm sharply. "Don't be a ninny, now, Enna! You're a soldier for Narnia! Act it!"
With difficulty, Enna drew another arrow and fired it into the heaving mass of battle, trying to aim for the leather-clad warriors and avoid the scarlet-jerkined ones.
Meanwhile, the rain of arrows falling on their own heads was growing thicker. One nicked Enna's cheek as she foolishly looked down to adjust her belt.
"Piretus, we must retreat!" she heard herself cry. "It is far too dangerous here for us!"
"Well said, my lady," Piretus said. "Fall back! Fall back to the cover of the trees!"
All too gladly did the archers scramble for safety. It was quieter there on the other side of the hill, and Enna was grateful for it. Others, however, weren't.
"This is quite a letdown," Queen Lucy announced. "I expected to see a battle, and here I am, cowering in the bush like a yellow-belly!"
"Your Majesty, it was much too hazardous to remain where we were," Piretus pleaded. "What would your royal brothers say to me if you got shot under my watch?"
Queen Lucy harrumphed and tugged at her horse's reins. "Well, I'm not going to sit here. I'll see you all after the battle!"
And with that, she wheeled her horse around and spurred it up over the ridge and out of sight.
"Your Majesty!" Piretus cried despairingly.
Enna squeezed her eyes shut and fought a violent shudder, hugging her bow close. "I'll follow her and fetch her back, Marshall Piretus," she said. "His Majesty charged me with her care—"
"Then away with you!" the faun cried, his wrinkled face turning red with exertion as he motioned vigorously. "Stop that fool queen before she gets herself killed!"
Enna didn't need telling twice. Clutching the reins with all her might, she urged her horse out of the safety of the mossy boulders. The arrows that landed in the leaves at their feet were fewer than before, as though the Galmanian archers had given up on them and turned elsewhere. But there were deep disturbances in the dirt, as though a hurried horse had slipped and skipped downhill.
"I don't like this one bit, I don't like this one bit," Enna's horse felt a need to chant under its breath.
Enna didn't like it either, but she determinedly kicked the grey hard in the ribs and hung on for dear life as they careened down the slope, the sounds of battle growing louder and louder.
At last, just as the ground was beginning to flatten, Enna caught a glimpse of Queen Lucy's mauve skirts at the same moment that a high-pitched, blood-curdling yowl echoed against the trees. Too late, Enna realized that it was the young girl's battle cry, and that the queen of Narnia had just plunged into the morass of Narnians and Galmanians, her sharp knife glinting in the sun.
"You've done it now," said her horse.
"Because you said that to me," Enna scolded, drawing an arrow from her quiver, "we are going to follow her."
"Into battle?" gasped the beast.
"The very same. Now, yah!"
Enna kicked the horse hard, and it leapt abruptly forward, sending Enna—and her nerves—wobbling dangerously. But she could see swords flashing up and down (they were only a stone's throw away from the field!), and she knew very well that if she were not ready, she just might—
They crashed into battle. The warriors, startled momentarily by the sudden appearance of yet another horse, leapt back with shouts, before quickly reforming and redoubling their efforts. Enna's horse galloped blindly through the confusion, once narrowly missing a fallen Galmanian's head. Blades slashed at Enna's legs, nearly cutting through to the skin, and she heedlessly lashed out at those nearby with the arrow that was clutched in her trembling hand, struggling to keep her seat and her eyes on the queen, whose horse was rearing up as she rallied the flagging Narnian left.
Suddenly, Enna felt herself being tugged from the saddle. Unthinkingly, she drew her hand back and struck her assailant across the face, and he released his grip on her skirts, but not before their eyes met and she recognized him as Ikri Kleppyr, a sailor that she had once known in Galma.
Shaken but unharmed, Enna turned back to the task at hand and spurred her mount to catch up with Queen Lucy, whose horse was trapped between a wall of soldiers on one side and a mound of rock on the other.
"Why, hello, Enna!" the queen called as Enna's horse scattered the Galmanians before it. "Are you here to help?"
"I'm here to drag you back to the hilltop by your ear, Your Majesty!" Enna bellowed back.
Before Lucy could respond, a sword whistled through the air, and Enna's horse whinnied frantically, bolting away. Enna tried to grab hold of its mane, but the fine hair slipped through her fingers, and she fell from the saddle, landing painfully on the rocky ground. The sky above swirled around her, and for a long moment, Enna struggled to draw a breath.
Someone dragged her up by her shoulder, the man's sharp grip biting through the chain mail and digging into her flesh. "Well, if it isn't little Enna," said the grimy-faced warrior.
Enna kicked viciously at Ikri's shins. "I don't know what you're talking about, you barbarian!"
Ikri grimaced as her toes make contact with a sharp edge of his armor, but he continued to hold her shoulder in a deathgrip. "You've caused quite a bit of grief, you know."
Enna did not want anything to do with this. Summoning the last reserves of her strength and courage, she threw herself upon the heavily armored warrior, knocking him off-balance and toppling him to the ground. He landed with a loud crash, his sword flying from his grip, and Enna, before he could get up, scrambled for the lost weapon and drove it through the man's thick leather jerkin, pinning him securely to the earth.
"Come back here, you unbridled hellcat!" Ikri bellowed as Enna ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction.
She paid him no heed as she sprinted across the grassy field, leaping over corpses and trying not to look down. The Narnians had engaged the Galmanians farther down the valley, and, to her untrained eye, it seemed as though they were pushing the enemy back! There were more waving rampart lions than four-rayed scarlet suns.
Then, as she watched, a mighty shout rose up from the Narnian front. The breath caught in Enna's throat—had the Galmanians repelled them? No—it was a cheer of triumph!
"Narnia has won the day!"