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 Eleven

"General Oreius! General Oreius! A messenger! A messenger coming from the Cair!"

I looked up from where I still knelt. There was only the blush of dawn in the east, and the colts were still nestled against me, the elder curled up with his head resting on my bent forelegs, the younger between him and me, one hand clinging to each of us in sleep. I eased one arm from around them, and the High King woke with a startled gasp.

I put one finger to my lips, glancing at Edmund, and with a nod, Peter carefully loosened the slender fingers twisted into his tunic and sat up. The Robin who had come to tell us of the messenger hopped and bobbed, his eyes bright and eager.

"Who is it, Ruddock?" I whispered, not daring to stand and risk disturbing the younger colt's hard-won sleep. "Can you tell?"

"A Horse, General. He is yet a way off, and I could not see who it is."

Peter glanced at his still-sleeping brother, eyes suddenly warm. "Phillip. It must be."

And so it was. The chestnut Horse hurried into the camp, making a slight bow to the High King and then to me. Then he bent down, gently nuzzling his boy, careful not to wake him.

"Is he all right?" Phillip asked, his dark eyes large and anxious. "Queen Lucy came to find me when he disappeared, thinking I had taken him to you." He snorted. "I would have told him to go back to his bed."

"I'm sure that's why he walked here," Peter said, a smile touching his lips. "We did send word back to Lucy. So she wouldn't worry and all. I hated leaving her in the first place. Was she very upset?"

The Horse tossed his head towards the pouch on his saddle. "You can read for yourself."

Peter got carefully to his feet and started rummaging through the pouch. Lucy's note was on top, and I read it over his shoulder.

Dear Peter,

I'm so sorry, but Edmund ran away. I know he's coming to find you. I only fell asleep for a minute, and I thought he was sleeping, too. But then he was gone. You should have made him promise, too! Or at least see if you can get him to eat. I packed some of that beef pie he likes and some pears and all of the apple cake and some extra clothes and things. He never thinks about that. Please take care of him and of yourself. I need you both to come home. Aslan be with you.

Love,

Lucy

P. S. You eat, too!

P. P. S. You ought to order Oreius to give Edmund a good spanking.

Peter glanced at me and tucked the note inside his shirt. Then he took some of the food out of the pouch.

"I hope he'll at least try some of this. Either way, we need to get moving pretty soon, Oreius."

The rest of the camp was awake now, quiet in the early light, and I nodded. "Within the hour, Majesty."

Edmund stirred a little, and Phillip leaned down to him, nudging him with his whiskered muzzle. "My King? Edmund?"

Edmund jerked awake, again that flash of terror in his eyes. Then, with a soundless cry, he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around the Horse's neck.

Phillip. Phillip.

The Horse nuzzled him fondly. "You ought to be kicked for leaving all by yourself."

Edmund only smirked and pressed his face into Phillip's mane. Then Peter put a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Lucy sent us apple cake, Ed. Do you– Do you think you might be able to eat some?"

The younger colt looked at the rich cake bursting with large chunks of apple. I thought for a moment he might once again be sick, but he took the piece Peter offered him. Then he ducked his head and took a tentative bite. When none of it came back up, he smiled faintly and ate some more.

Peter patted his back. "Good. You'll need your strength when we catch up to Zeier."

There was a sudden grim hardness in the High King's face, one that was mirrored in his brother's, and the younger King nodded.

"You also need your strength, High King," I said. "The Queen Lucy was quite specific about both of you eating."

"All right," Peter said, and he took some cake for himself.

It was a start.

Before the sun was fully up, we were again on our way, the Kings riding side by side with Peter's tigers flanking them and his Gryphon scouting from the air. West and north the trail ran, always west and north. The outlaws had gone somewhere specific. I wished again that the dark colt was able to tell us where.

I was about to suggest we make camp again when the shadows stretched long across our path, but before I could speak, the Gryphon soared into sight, screeching to the High King.

"Majesty! We've found them at last! We've found them!"

I called a halt, and the Gryphon landed beside Peter's unicorn.

"Tell us, Sher," he urged. "Where?"

Edmund's fingers tightened on Phillip's reins, his knuckles whitening as he waited for the Beast to speak.

"Just north of Beaversdam, My King," the Gryphon said. "In the ruins of the castle of the White Witch."

Author's Note: The opening of this chapter is for Pennywise, though I rather like it, too.