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 Sixteen

"Peter!"

Edmund's voice was rough and unsteady, but I could not mistake the happiness in it. Peter bent over Zeier, took something from his headless neck and then something from his bloodstained hand and stuffed them into the pouch on his belt. Then, with a few words to one of his captains, he hurried over to us.

"Ed. Are you badly hurt, Oreius? Edmund?" The High King's face was as pale as I had ever seen it, but he managed a shaky smile. "You picked a fine time to start talking again."

Edmund nodded, eyes brimming with tears. "Peter. You're all right." He drew a shuddering breath. "Susan– She isn't–"

"Peter! Edmund!"

The three of us turned to see the Gentle Queen running towards us, pulling her skirts up as she made her way through the grim aftermath of the battle. The Gryphon, Sher, was beside her, her guard until the time the High King released him of the charge.

"Oh, Peter." Queen Susan threw herself into her elder brother's arms, and he hugged her tightly, eyes squeezed closed as he no doubt gave silent thanks.

Then Susan turned to her younger brother. "Are you hurt, Edmund?"

Edmund struggled to reach her, desperate to feel for himself that she was whole and warm. Giving me an apologetic smile, she knelt and the two of them clasped hands over me.

"Edmund?"

"Su, you're alive." He brought her hand to his lips, pressing it with kiss after kiss. "You're alive. I saw–" His voice broke and now the tears spilled onto his cheeks. "I thought I saw them– I thought they– You were dead."

"No," she soothed, stroking the sweat-matted fringe of hair from his forehead. "That must have been Zeier's woman, Azar. She was jealous and tried to kill me. Zeier slashed her face and beat her and then gave her to his men. Our soldiers must have come into the cave just then, and that's why Zeier hurried me out and into the mountain tunnels. Oh, Edmund, she was wearing my dress. She had hair like mine. She–" With tender fingers, Susan wiped the tears from his face, ignoring her own. "I didn't know you thought I was dead. All this time."

Peter was standing at her shoulder now, and she reached up to him with her free hand, pulling him down at her side.

He put his arms around her once more. "Thank Aslan it's not true. Thank Aslan."

The three of them stayed as they were for a moment more, and then the Gentle Queen turned to me, on her face that familiar seraphic smile. "Forgive us, General. How are you feeling? Edmund, don't you think you should get up now and let Oreius be looked after."

Edmund pretended to scowl. "As soon as I can figure out how to get half a ton of Centaur off my legs."

Peter looked at my mangled forelegs. "Do you think they're broken, Oreius?"

"I fear so, Majesty," I managed in a half-whisper, my throat still burning and bruised. "I cannot stand."

As the rest of the enemy was being disarmed and taken into custody, the High King called several soldiers over to us, and they managed to shift me over enough to free his brother. While one of the faun medics began to examine my legs, Peter pulled Edmund into a hug, and then looked him up and down.

"Can you walk?"

Edmund nodded. "I'm just a little sore. It's all right. Oreius makes pretty good cover in a battle."

"How is he?" Peter asked the Faun, and the medic frowned.

"Both forelegs are broken. The right in two places, and the left . . ." He shook his head. "The bones are shattered. I do not think it will heal properly even in time. I am sorry, General."

My bruised throat tightened. "Never?"

The Faun's eyes were sympathetic. "I am sorry."

Edmund put his hand on my shoulder and gave his brother a nod. "The cordial."

I opened my mouth to object, for the substance was far too precious to be wasted on me, but at once I felt a drop of liquid fire on my tongue. The fire spread throughout my body, searing my throat and my forelegs and taking my breath. And then the pain was gone.

I stood and bowed my head. "You should not have done that, Majesty," I said, my voice now clear and strong. "But I thank you. Thank you both."

"We had to, Oreius," Peter said, laying one hand on my shoulder. "We wouldn't do very well without you."

"Besides," Edmund said with that little smirk I had thought never to see again, "I certainly wasn't going to carry you home."

Susan laughed, and he went to her and took her hand once more, not wanting her away from him quite yet, not wanting her out of his sight.

She smiled at him again. "Are you truly all right, Ed? Zeier told me he had released you, but I wasn't ever sure if he was telling me the truth. I'm so glad he didn't hurt you."

Edmund and Peter exchanged glances, but then the younger colt shook his head slightly. He did not mean to have his sister burdened with what he had suffered as Zeier's prisoner and afterward.

He squeezed her hand. "It's all over now, Su. I'm just glad you're not hurt."

Peter looked her over once more, worry in his eyes. "Are you sure he didn't hurt you, Su? After all this time, I mean a rotter like Zeier–"

"No, Peter. Really, I'm fine. Aslan was with me. All the time." She touched her fingers to the pendant that still hung over her heart, tracing the ancient runes that were translated His and not my own, and smiled mistily. "They took everything else I had with me, but not this. Not this."

Edmund nodded. "They took mine, Su, but I saved something for you."

I had not noticed the chain around his neck until he tugged it out of his shirt. Dangling from it was a delicate gold ring fashioned like a wreath of daffodils and mountain ash leaves, the replica of Queen Susan's royal crown. I had thought it buried with the body we had brought back to Cair Paravel.

"Ed," Peter whispered, and Susan hugged her younger brother again.

"You got it back. Oh, thank you. Thank you, Edmund."

He gave it to her, chain and all, and she quickly replaced it on her finger.

"I'm sorry they took your pendant, Edmund. Maybe we can have another made for you, though it wouldn't be the same as having the one Stormseer gave you when he gave all of us ours. You could–"

"Here, Ed."

Peter reached into the pouch at his belt and turned over the contents to his brother: a pendant that was the image of the ones Peter and Susan wore and a seal ring bearing the crest of King Edmund the Just.

Edmund only looked at him for a moment, and then he closed his hand around the pendant and the ring. "Peter."

The older colt's face turned grim. "You'll want to give them a good wash before you wear them again."

His eyes fixed on his brother's, the dark colt put them on just as they were. "I am the only one who can truly sully them, Peter."

I stood with them, watching as our men tore down the throne that had so long stood in this bleak hall. I prayed that soon the hall itself and the entire castle would share its fate. We needed to give no other would-be tyrants a place of refuge.

But we watched for only a moment. We had our own soldiers, living and dead, to tend to, as well as the enemy dead and the handful of prisoners we had taken. The Gentle Queen and those who were not otherwise occupied, ministered to those who needed care and comfort. At the command of the High King, the dead Fell were taken away and burned. Our lost ones were buried with as much honor as we could give them in this forsaken place. But even here, even in this place so stained by death, I knew we were not alone.

My Sovereigns stood close together, Queen Susan between her brothers, their arms entwined, as the last of the earth covered our slain. She was not the only one whose eyes were misted with tears. My own were nearly blinded.

We had not lost a great many of our soldiers. Not this time. But even one was too many. Even one was too great a loss when nothing was gained.

Nothing? a golden voice whispered to my heart. These brave ones gave their lives that evil may not take hold in this kingdom. They stood for Me, in defense of the innocent and of what is right, and their reward is great. Do not let your heart be troubled, My General. I have seen. I know. None of these fallen have fallen from My hand. Be at peace.

"Be at peace," I murmured over the graves, and then I turned to the High King. "What are your orders, Sire?"

Peter held his sister closer and then pulled his brother to his other side. His face was pale and still, but I knew him too well to miss the grief and guilt and weariness that were on it. I would tell him. The very moment I was able, I would tell him those words the Great Lion had spoken to me. I would tell him and, Aslan willing, he would know he had done what was right.

"Sire?" I prompted when he made no reply.

He exhaled heavily and then, with a tender kiss first to his sister's dark hair and then to his brother's, he smiled almost imperceptibly.

"General Oreius, lead us home."

Author's Note: Well, that's basically it. I have some epilogue tastiness planned, if people want me to add it, but you'll have to let me know. Otherwise, I'll leave it here. I hope you've enjoyed the story.