Enna, thrown over the shoulder of an unknown Galmanian soldier, found herself being borne away from the sounds of battle, though all she could see was her captor's back. A drop of blood from her swelling nose threatened to drip into her eye, and she managed to free a hand to wipe it away before taking a deep breath and beginning to kick and struggle.
"Let me go!" she snarled, beating upon his leathered back until her firsts turned red and bruised.
"I'm under orders, you virago," the soldier growled back. His arms clamped viciously around Enna's legs, pinning them together. "It'll be much more easier if yeh just hold still!"
Enna had no intention of being carted off that easily. With a furious noise, she renewed her struggle, and beat soundly upon the soldier, his cries of angered pain only encouraging her.
But, alas, might won out over willpower, and Enna was soon dumped unceremoniously to the ground and securely gagged with a handkerchief. As she scuffled futilely against the hands that were tying her wrists and ankles together, her captor loomed over her and she got a good look at him. To her satisfaction, she saw a dusky black bruise forming on his cheekbone.
I hope you'll remember that pain! she thought heatedly.
"Are the bonds secure?" he asked.
"Aye, my lord."
"Good. Maybe our little runaway will learn to stay put. Leave her with the others."
"Are you sure that is wise, my lord? What if they—"
"They are gagged."
"Aye, my lord."
And thus Enna was hauled into someone else's arms and carted summarily off to a large enclosed litter that rested on a wide, flat rock. She had seen such things in use on Galma, but only then with fine gossamer curtains and the shadows of fine ladies inside—never nailed up and broken-looking like this one. Squirming and emitting muffled screams did nearly nothing to prevent her being placed inside, only temporarily slowed it as the man who carried her stumbled over a stone, and soon the heavy canvas curtains were pushed aside and she was rudely tossed in.
Darkness surrounded her immediately. Her ears ringing, she huddled on the floor of the litter where she'd been cast, not daring to breathe or move a muscle: there was something else in there with her.
"Enna?"
Enna lifted her head from the floor at the familiar voice. She tried to reply, but could only make idiotic grunting sounds, as the gag pressed down harshly on her tongue.
"I think she's been gagged, too, Aramir," came King Edmund's whisper.
"I'm still tied up. Enna, you can force the gag out of your mouth if you pull your chin in and work it with your tongue."
Enna did so, feeling distinctly foolish. But at last, she managed to free herself from its tight knot, and she took a deep breath of the stale air. "I've got it," she whispered softly.
"Are you all right?"
As her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, she began to pick out figures, all huddled on their knees or sides. "Aye—aye, just a bit knocked. Who else is here?"
"I am," came Edmund's gloomy whisper.
"And I," said Lord Lorendo's deep voice.
"And I"—"And I, too"—"And I". And so it went, until Enna counted nearly nine others in the litter with her and Aramir.
"Were you all captured, then, too?"
"Aye…"
She sighed and struggled into a sitting motion. Just as she got settled, the litter tilted up sharply on one end, and all the captives tumbled together into a heap at the other. Then that side was lifted up, too, until the palanquin was steadied.
"I think we're moving," came a distinctly dog-ish voice nearby.
The abductees, bound hand and foot as they were, struggled to free themselves from the jumble of bodies without swaying their vehicle too obviously.
"This is barbaric!" came a she-faun's high whisper.
"This is war," said King Edmund. "I don't doubt we will be used as bargaining chips."
They lapsed into silence as the litter moved rhythmically back and forth, and the sound of marching feet could be heard through the thick curtains.
At last, Enna stirred and looked around at the shadowy forms. "Well, are we going to just sit here?"
"What else would you suggest, milady?" asked a Dwarf. "Lawn games?"
"I suggest we at least try to think of some way to run away."
The creatures scoffed at her proposition, but Edmund shushed them. "Enna has a point. Whether she has a strategy, we have yet to find out, but…"
"They have taken away our weapons," Lorendo said. "We must go without."
"We are smart," she replied. "We'll do just fine."
"We could roll out of the litter," an eagle suggested. "My wings are tied down, but someone could carry me."
"They'd shoot us as soon as let us roll away," Edmund said dryly.
"True, sire."
"Might we wait until nightfall, and then roll away?" said the she-faun.
"We might not have until nightfall."
"But it's a start," Enna retorted. "If we got our gags undone, could we not do so for our hands and feet? Then we could wait until dark and then walk away."
"Aye. I second that," said the eagle.
A sudden inspiration struck Enna, and she sat up. "Could you bite our ties, good sir eagle?" she asked. "Your beak is free."
"Well, aye," wheedled the bird. "But my beak is made for tearing flesh, not rope. It would take much time."
"Once you got one of us free," Aramir put in quickly, "then we could release the others. It would take half as long."
"Aye! Aye!" agreed the creatures wholeheartedly.
"Then it is settled," Enna said firmly. "At nightfall. For Narnia!"
Edmund nodded emphatically. "And for Aslan."
But, as it quickly turned out, the captives would not even get until nightfall. Shortly after their plans had been finalized, the litter shuddered to a halt and was set down firmly on something hard and solid. Quickly, the Narnians replaced their gags and pretended to be sleepily waking as their captors threw aside the canvas curtains, letting blinding sunshine stream in.
"Drag them out," came a Galmanian voice.
One by one, the abductees were pulled from the litter, their ankles unbound, and then forced to walk across gravelly dirt. As Enna was taken out and had her lashes torn off, she caught a glance at their surroundings—it was a different part of Narnia than she'd ever seen before. They had come to a stop atop a high hill, dusty and dotted with crumbling walls and statues, the ruins of an ancient fortress, if Enna was not mistaken. The other Narnians had been taken into what seemed to be the very nucleus of that once-imposing stronghold, kneeling in the lush green grass that had sprung up in what had at one time been a great chamber. Now, the roof had long since caved in and the walls begun to crumble, but as Enna was forced to sit next to the Dwarf, she couldn't help but raise her eyes to those bastions of Old Narnia, praying that somehow, anyhow, they would be rescued.
But there did not seem to be any hope for them. As they were kneeling there in the grass, heads lowered in fear and disappointment, Captain Minodaurus clubbed Aramir savagely across the side of the face with his sword, sending the doe-eyed youth sprawling in the grass. A spot of blood dribbled from his ear and he clapped a dirtied hand to it in anguish, but the Narnians could do nothing. Enna fought tears as she listened to Aramir's muffled groans as he was forced back to his knees.
The sun drifted higher in the sky, nearly reaching the point of noon, before there were any new happenings. But at long last, the Narnians' Galmanian guards straightened and pulled their captives up to their feet, as well. Sabsestrin, Captain Minodaurus at his heels, was striding purposefully towards the little band, his thin beard streaked with red and white battle paint.
"So, barbarians."
Enna glared at him, daring him to do something. She was a queen, now—her husband ruled Galma, whether these rebels would admit it or not.
Sabsestrin noted her dark look and chuckled. "Ah, the little minx is still the same…don't you realize, little Enna? We have captured you and your king."
Please, Edmund, Lorendo, Aramir, don't reveal that I am queen now, she begged silently. The Sons of Adam on her left remained mute.
"Galma has had quite enough of the barbarian brats' games," Sabsestrin went on. "Don't you think this is a most convenient way to finish them?"
Captain Minodaurus, obviously pleased about something, bobbed on his heels and smiled. "Aye, sire!"
"Most excellent." Sabsestrin beamed. "Now, as soon as Narnia realizes that her king is gone, they will come groveling back on their bellies, this war shall be over, and I shall have my niece back."
Enna shuddered, and her guard squeezed her shoulders painfully.
"But it may take them quite awhile to realize it," Sabsestrin said, pretending to sober. "We must have something to do to pass the time. Therefore, my good friend Captain Minodaurus has volunteered to host an entertainment of sorts for you."
The fun loving but woefully naïve Narnians brightened, but Enna, Aramir, Lorendo, and Edmund paled considerably.
"Bring him forward."
Aramir's guard lifted the ashen-faced young man and brought him forth to kneel at his brother's feet. Enna wanted to close her eyes at the sight of his broad shoulders sagging in defeat as dark blood continued to dribble from his ravaged ear.
"Now that we have regained our countryman," said Sabsestrin, "we may bring him to justice. All you barbarian creatures will bear witness to his punishment for desertion! For mutiny against his captain! For high treason against Galma! For assisting a sea rat."
"What, exactly, is that punishment to be?" Lorendo challenged, his booming voice echoing admirably off of the moldering walls.
"Why," said Captain Minodaurus in astonishment, "this boy has committed the gravest of sins! He deserves nothing less than death!"
Enna remained silent, but the Narnian creatures' collective gasp spoke for her. Death? Impossible. Aramir had done nothing wrong—it was her fault!
Aramir, meanwhile, was chafing his hands together, obviously trying to loosen his bonds, but Minodaurus kicked him over in the dusty grass, drawing his sword. The fear on Aramir's pallid face tore at Enna's mind, rending her heart so slowly and agonizingly that suddenly, she straightened and said in a loud voice—
"Take me in his stead, Uncle."
Minodaurus' sword halted in its path upward, and he looked in confusion at Sabsestrin.
"Are you saying you wish to be executed in his place?" Sabsestrin asked slowly.
Enna nodded and swallowed, her heart beating a death-knell in her ears.
Sabsestrin stared at her for a moment, and then chuckled. "Hardly. You are far more worthy to me than this whelp here. I will not allow it. Carry on, Captain."
Any earlier in her life, Enna would have been relieved to have the cup of death taken from her lips. But this—this was unjustifiable. It was her sins—her own fault that Aramir was to be put to the sword! How could she just stand there and watch him lay down his life for her wrongdoing?
As she stood there, sweating and trembling with emotion, it seemed to her, and everyone around, that a hot, sweet breeze rustled through the grass. Enna felt it on her hands, and as she chafed her wrists together, her bonds loosened and fell away; she broke out of her warden's grip and flung herself in front of Aramir's defenseless body, hands up to shield him from the glinting blade.
At the same time the Narnians, their hearts stirred by the whisper heard in the wind, also felt their bonds falling away. Their captors' hands drew away, as if scalded, from their shoulders; now freed, they spread their wings or unsheathed their claws. Edmund, heeding the gentle voice in his ear, sprinted to Sabsestrin and felled him roughly to the ground, barely avoiding striking his head against a marble stone.
But none of this did Enna see. She was curled up in the dusty grass, looking down at her frock, torn savagely and surging blood. Hot waves of pain radiated up from the wound, and her eyes blurred strangely as she felt bits of flesh come away in her trembling hands. She had saved Aramir's life—but Minodaurus' sword was stained with gore anyway. Somehow, the blade had missed her shielding hands and struck her body instead.
In the distance, it seemed, there came a distant trumpet blast, and the Galmanian host, their faces slack with the daring of the barbarian captives, leapt into formation. Overhead, so thick the shadows nearly blotted out the sun, came the winged Narnians, wild with rage for their ravaged people and stolen rulers.
"Enna, Enna, Enna," said Aramir, his voice barely audible over the din of impending conflict. "How could you do such a thing?"
She scarcely heard him. Narnia had come after all…but now it was too late.