Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Oreius also does not belong to me. I do, however, wish I could play in Narnia.
Chapter Nine
"Edmund Alexander Pevensie!" The High King's eyes flashed in the firelight. "You promised you'd stay at the Cair."
The younger colt pushed himself into a sitting position and then began brushing dirt and grass off his tunic, shaking his head as he did.
"Actually, My King," I said, "he made no such promise."
"Oreius–" Peter scowled and turned back to his brother. "Whether or not you actually promised, Ed, you knew what I wanted you to do. Go back. Now."
Edmund looked up at me, clearly seeking an ally, and I gave him a glare of stern reproof.
"You endanger yourself, Majesty, with such recklessness. Do you think your brother and sister need to add your loss to the grief they already carry? You should not have come, and you should go back." I glanced at the High King and let my expression soften. "In the morning."
"In the morning!" Peter raged. "Oreius–"
"It is the middle of the night, My King. A few more hours will make little difference, and traveling by daylight will be safer for your brother."
Edmund nodded encouragingly, and Peter crossed his arms over his chest.
"And you know what will happen. In the morning, he will think of something else to keep him with us, and then something else and something else until we're days away from Cair Paravel and it's too late to send him back."
The dark colt ducked his head, but I saw that sly flicker in his eyes and knew his brother was not exaggerating.
"Only until the morning, High King." I made my expression sterner than before and looked at Edmund. "Then he goes back with no further protest. Agreed?"
Edmund frowned and then, with a frustrated little huff, nodded his head.
"Very well then, My King. Come sit while I have someone prepare you a place to sleep. I suppose I shall have to do additional training with the guards I left at the Cair. They were no doubt watching for anyone who would try to sneak in, not someone sneaking out."
Peter glared, but Edmund only gave him a superior little smirk and sat down, both of them leaning against the same wide oak. Neither the High King nor I should have been surprised to find the younger colt here. Edmund knew the Cair better than I did myself, particularly, as he liked to say, "the sneaky bits." I had been remiss in not bringing this to the attention of the guard I had set. No doubt the Great Lion had given these colts into my charge just to keep me alert.
And humble.
"Oreius," Peter said after a moment, "I need you to send a messenger back to the Cair. Right away, if you will. I don't want Lucy fretting any longer than necessary about Edmund disappearing." He scowled fiercely at his brother. "Even though she's probably already frantic realizing he's gone and worried half-sick about what might have happened to him and heartbroken to know he didn't even consider that before he took off."
Edmund studied his boots, and I bowed slightly.
"At once, High King. And, yes, I will have the messenger remind her that she gave you her word to stay put."
I dispatched a pair of swift bats to take the message to the Queen Lucy, checked with our sentinels and then returned to the fireside.
"Have the scouts seen anything?" the High King asked, and I shook my head.
"All is quiet, Majesty. You both should sleep now."
He snapped the little oak twig he had been worrying and tossed it into the fire. "I wish we had something to go on. Any information about Zeier and his men or their plans or even how they're armed would be better than walking into their stronghold blind."
Edmund pushed away from the tree, slapping himself on the chest, eyes eager, and Peter glanced at me. We had not pressed the younger King for information about his captors. It was too painful for him to remember, if he remembered at all.
Peter shook his head. "Ed, you don't have to–"
Edmund slapped more vigorously.
"Perhaps just things like their numbers and their arms, High King," I suggested, feeling as wary as Peter looked. "Not . . . other things."
Peter said nothing for a moment, only searching his brother's hopeful eyes. Then he nodded. "Do you remember how many they were, Ed?"
Edmund held up all of his fingers four times in succession and then added another three.
I nodded approvingly at him. At least my constant insistence on precise observation had made some impression on the colt.
"And weapons?" Peter asked. "How were they armed?"
Edmund shrugged and touched the sword at his belt and then the dagger. Then he made the motion of drawing a bow.
Peter pursed his lips. "All right. Nothing else? Nothing we should be prepared for?"
Edmund shook his head.
Peter glanced at me. "Forty-three of them. Phillip said they killed seven during the attack. We killed at least a dozen in the cave."
"Seventeen," I corrected.
"Seventeen. That leaves only nineteen. We should be able to take them easily."
"Unless there are others who were not with them that day." I looked at the younger colt. "Did you hear of others who were to join them, My King?"
His forehead wrinkled and his breath came a little more rapidly as he forced himself to think back to the day of the attack and the time he had been held prisoner. Finally, he shrugged, bewildered, disappointed.
"Did they say where they were headed, Majesty?" I asked.
Edmund's eyes widened a little and again his forehead wrinkled. He struggled visibly, desperate to be of some use in tracking down his sister's murderer, but he only grew more and more agitated.
"Did they, Ed?" Peter urged.
Sweat beaded on Edmund's upper lip, his mouth quivering as he fought to speak, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed both hands to the sides of his head.
Peter rubbed his shoulder. "It's all right. It's all right. You don't have to think about it again. It's all right."
Frustrated tears welled into Edmund's eyes, and he clutched Peter's arm, shaking his head, his breath coming in unsteady gasps now. Clearly his mind could not or would not go back there.
"Come on."
Peter put one arm around his brother and leaned back against the tree once more, pulling Edmund's head down to his shoulder, holding him there until he relaxed. Edmund was still trembling, but after a few minutes I noticed he was asleep, the first true sleep he'd had in days. Peter followed a short time later, and I could not help a fond smile as I looked on the two of them, their young faces slack and vulnerable, the younger clinging to the elder.
Always the protector, I thought of the High King again, and with another scan of the silent camp, I let myself doze off.
What seemed like only a moment later, there was a rustling in the clearing. My eyes snapped open and my hand went instinctively to my sword. Then I released it and went to the dark colt. He was crouched against the tree, eyes wide with terror and confusion, breath coming in wracking sobs as he tried once again to speak.
Peter. Peter.
I knelt beside him, taking hold of his arms to steady him. "What is it, My King?"
He trembled against me, begging with those near-black eyes. Peter. Peter.
I looked around and saw the High King hurrying from the stream, blotting his mouth with his sleeve.
"Ed?"
He dropped to his knees at Edmund's side, almost knocked over when the younger King lunged at him.
Peter hugged him close and then looked up at me, bewildered. "What happened?"
"I am not certain, High King. As best I can tell, he woke and found you gone."
"I just went to get a drink, Ed. It's all right. What is it? Did you have a bad dream?"
Edmund nodded rapidly, keeping his face hidden against Peter's shoulder.
"It's all right, Ed. I'm here. I'm here. I won't leave you. I won't let you go."
The dark colt's sobs finally quieted and soon he slept again. His brother merely sat watching over him, stroking his hair and holding him safe, and I knew that Edmund would not be heading home at dawn. When this business with Zeier was over, then the two of them would return to the Cair. Together or not at all.
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