Author's Note: See? I can update quickly! And you don't have to wait a year this time! We're seriously gearing up for the end of the story soon - not immediately, but soon. Rough estimates (based on what I still want to include in the story) puts this story at another 5-8 chapters beside this one. Of course, given the way my muse runs away with me from time to time, that could change drastically, especially now that I've seen Voyage of the Dawn Treader...that movie gave me so many new ideas for this one!
Oh, and to give credit where credit is due: The idea that Peter and his siblings earned other names besides Magnificent, Just, etc. belongs to Elecktrum. I loved the idea in one chapter of her amazing story Thole. The idea of Peter having an actual bond with Narnia comes from Sentimental Star from her story Keeping the Faith, I think. I haven't asked permission to use these elements, and I didn't use them in exactly the same way, but they still deserve credit for their ideas inspiring mine. If you haven't read either story, do not pass them up!
Anyway, enjoy this long chapter and don't forget to review!
Chapter 26: Questions of Faith and Duty
Aslan's How…planning chamber…five hours until the duel…
"How is the ambush coming?" Peter asked, tracing a map of the tunnels with his finger as he looked at Glenstorm and Caspian.
"Very well, sire," Glenstorm said. "We've run drills in order to perfect the timing, and we've marked the columns that must be destroyed for the plan to work. Half of the Narnian forces will be stationed in the main room of the How, waiting for the signal, and the other half will be on the surface watching the duel. The Telmarines should have no idea of the true numbers of our forces."
"I'll be waiting for your signal to begin the charge," Caspian added.
Edmund frowned. "Peter, we made these plans while Larez was still our prisoner. We don't know how many of our forces he saw when he was trying to escape. We may not be able to catch them by surprise, especially if he's in a position to command the Telmarine army. If he warns them that there are fewer of our forces visible than he's seen…"
"I'll station a few of my men among the Narnians that will be visible outside," Cor volunteered. That way he won't realize that the majority of my army is not waiting outside, and my archers will already be waiting with the Narnians and Queen Susan on the upper levels of the How."
Peter nodded. "Thank you, Cor. Your forces will be here and here, correct?"
Cor studied the two places that Peter was indicating. "Yes. We'll be waiting for the signal to come in and flank the Telmarines once their infantry takes the field. Corin is going to take the scouts and try to work their way past the sentry lines to the rear of the Telmarine army, and try to take out the siege weapons from the rear with strike and run tactics."
Peter was pleased with that plan. The siege weapons would do more damage to their forces – and possibly the How – than they could counter, but if the siege weapons were taken out, they would have a better chance of meeting the Telmarines evenly on the field of battle. "Just take care, Corin," Peter cautioned him. "The Telmarines will have the siege weapons strongly guarded, since that is one of the clear tactical advantages that they have over us."
Oreius looked thoughtful and stamped one hoof on the stone floor. "What if His Highness were to take some of the Mice with the scouts? While the scouts engaged the Telmarine forces manning the siege weapons, could the Mice not disable them? They are small and swift and could make it to the weapons unseen."
Reepicheep straightened proudly at the General's compliment. "I can send half of my Mice along with His Highness, if that is the case."
"The Mice would be welcome," Corin agreed. "But my twenty-five scouts and I will not be enough to distract or endure against all of the Telmarines at the rear. I would need more troops to be able to maintain a clear distraction while the Mice accomplish their mission."
"Take one regiment of infantry," Cor ordered his brother. "The scouts, the regiment of soldiers, and the Mice should be enough to do some damage before you are forced to fall back and circle around to join the battle."
Corin nodded. "Fair enough. Sir Reepicheep will undoubtedly send some of his finest along with us."
"Indeed I shall, and they shall be proud to serve Aslan and their Kings and Queens!" Reepicheep declared.
Peter glanced up in time to see Aislynn slipping quietly into the room. She smiled at him and moved to stand next to Oreius and Tumnus. He glanced back down at the maps, redirecting his attention to the final plans. "Ed, where do we stand with the Gryphons?"
"Caspian's going to signal them after the charge out of the tunnels," Edmund said. "Roron is leading the flight and he'll be watching for Caspian's command. Half of the Gryphons are to carry rocks to drop on the Telmarines, and the other half will be carrying Dwarf archers."
"Archers?" Oreius asked, surprised. Peter was equally startled, since he hadn't heard that detail yet. He looked closely at Edmund.
"It was one of Caspian's ideas," Edmund shrugged. "But it would be a brilliant use of their abilities, and it's something that we never tried during our reign. The Gryphons will be able to carry the Dwarves closer to the line, which will hopefully make their shots even more accurate. If they can get close enough, they may even be able to target the Telmarine officers and start disruption in the ranks if the chain of command is broken."
Peter shot a surprised look at Caspian, who ducked his head, embarrassed. "An excellent idea, Caspian."
Caspian looked up, startled at the compliment. "Thank you."
"Susan, what about the archers?"
"We're ready, Peter," Susan assured him. "Thanks to the efforts of the Narnians, there's a large supply of arrows made and fletched, and some of the younger children have been appointed to continually bring arrows to the archers that will be stationed on the terraces."
"Who is going to be tending the wounded that make it back to the How?" Edmund asked.
Tumnus raised his hand. "I will be assisting Queen Krisalyn and Doctor Cornelius in that task, Majesties. They have already volunteered their services, and a few of those with healer training will be aiding as well."
"Good. And with Aislynn and Lucy searching for Aslan, I believe that we've covered all bases," Peter replied. He straightened up and stood, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles that had tensed up from being bent over the maps and plans.
Cor glanced at his twin for a moment. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go see about assembling the regiment that will be accompanying my brother's scouts."
"And I shall select the Mice," Reepicheep added, with a flourished bow in Peter's direction.
Peter hid a smile at the exuberant Mouse and nodded to both of them. "Please. Corin, you'll need to leave earlier than Lucy and Aislynn so that you have time to circumvent the Telmarine lines if you're going to be in position by the time the duel starts."
Corin nodded. "I thought I would leave at two marks past noon, King Peter. That should give us plenty of time to get into position."
"Agreed." Given that it was only eleven marks past dawn, Corin would have plenty of time to prepare his forces, especially since Peter was going to try to buy as much times as he possibly could for Lucy and Aislynn to find Aslan.
The two Archenland royals bowed politely and strode out of the room together. Corin had his head tilted towards his twin and was speaking quietly to him. Reepicheep bowed again, and left in their wake to assemble the Mice under his command and choose the ones who would be accompanying him.
Peter sighed. "Now for the duel. Ed, what arrangements did you make with Miraz?"
"The combat will be held at four marks past noon, Peter. Miraz is allowed to bring three of his men with him to the ruins in front of the How, and I told him that they didn't need green branches to signify their intent, since the sentries will know that they're coming and why."
"Then to keep it equal, I should have three standing alongside as well," Peter said thoughtfully.
"Your Majesty, I would like to volunteer," Caspian began, but Edmund interjected, shaking his head.
"You cannot, Caspian. This combat is – as the letter was phrased – to decide your right to claim the throne of the Telmarines. That claim invalidates you from standing as one of the Marshals."
"Besides," Peter added. "While we're preparing for the combat, you'll be seeing Lucy and Aislynn off. The Marshals have to be in place before the combat begins. Edmund will be standing with me, but he'll be acting as my squire as well, so he'll walk out with me."
A thick, growling voice suddenly spoke from the door. "Your Majesty, please."
Peter and the rest of the Council turned and saw a large brown Bear standing near the door, apparently having overheard the conversation. "If you please, Your Majesty, I'm a bear, I am," the Bear continued when he noticed that he had their attention."
"Indeed, and a good Bear, I do not doubt," Peter replied.
"If it pleases Your Majesty, it was always a right of the Bears to supply one Marshal of the lists," the Bear replied.
"You are quite right, good Bear," Peter said. "I take it you wish to volunteer?" When the Bear nodded heavily, Peter nodded in response. "I thank you for the offer. Know that it is most appreciated."
"I thank you, Majesty," the Bear replied before he bowed low and shuffled away from the door.
Peter turned back to the rest of the Council. His eyes fell upon Oreius and something passed between them, silently, before Peter spoke. His tone was low, and humble, barely discernable to the other Narnians as he spoke to his weapons master. "Oreius, old friend, I would ask you to stand as Marshal, though I suspect that you would refuse."
The tall Centaur General looked seriously at his High King. "I swore once to stand beside you to the death, Your Majesty. Know that I will fight alongside the army today, to make up for my mistake in not being able to defend Narnia twenty years ago. But the honor of standing as Marshal this day does not belong with me."
Edmund stepped up beside his brother and looked Oreius in the eyes as well. "That is ridiculous, Oreius. You have done nothing but stand alongside us and serve Narnia and Aslan for as long as we've known you. There is no mistake to be avenged, and you hold no blame for what happened to Narnia."
"Perhaps, my King," Oreius replied. "But I still do not hold the right to stand as you would wish me to. May I suggest Glenstorm, however? He has been leading the Narnians for many years now, and I know he will serve honorably."
Glenstorm straightened as all eyes turned towards him. "I would be most honored, Majesty, if you would consider me worthy of this responsibility."
Peter smiled faintly. "Just like your father," he whispered, and for a moment many of those present thought that they saw pain flash in his blue eyes. But it was gone before they could really do more than catch a fleeting impression of it. Peter raised his voice. "You would be most welcome, Glenstorm."
Glenstorm bowed his head and raised a fisted hand to his heart, the Centaur way of showing respect, since their form did not allow them to bow the same way that a human would. "Then I shall stand beside you, High King." After a moment he looked back up and dropped his hand.
Peter watched Glenstorm for another moment, then turned and gazed at Oreius with those deep blue eyes. Edmund didn't fail to notice that Peter's eyes held – not only respect – but also sorrow. After their departure, it would have been Oreius who would have shouldered the complete burden of Narnia's defense, as well as that of protecting Krisalyn and Aislynn. It was a burden, Edmund knew, which Peter would never have asked the Centaur to take on, given a choice.
Clearing his throat after a moment, Peter turned and looked back at the Council, his eyes sweeping past his siblings, his daughter, and their friends, both old and new. "That, I believe, covers everything," he said quietly. "There are still several marks before the fight, so please see to any final preparations that you need to make at your posts and pray that Aslan comes swiftly to our aid."
The Narnians all bowed and Peter turned back to Oreius. "Old friend, would you walk with me?" he asked quietly.
"Of course, King Peter," Oreius replied. Peter glanced at his siblings and received reassuring nods, before he left the chamber, Oreius stepping alongside him, his hooves chiming on the stone floor of the How.
Slowly, the other Council members bowed to the remaining monarchs and drifted out, leaving Susan, Lucy, Edmund, and Aislynn standing alone in the planning chamber. Edmund glanced at his family, his heart feeling tight as he realized that for the first time in a very long time, they were all going to be fighting for Narnia's freedom. They had all fought during the battle with the Witch – even Lucy had used her dagger to help once Aslan had brought them along with the reinforcements. But after Beruna, it had been Peter and Edmund – and occasionally Susan – who had gone to war. Lucy had usually remained with the healers, behind the Narnian lines. Her cordial had been used to help their soldiers when they were at the point of death, and Peter had not wanted to risk Lucy's life or innocence with the bloody and terrible sights of a pitched battle. And Aislynn – Krisalyn had said that she had been trained by Oreius, just as they had, but she had never fought in a conflict before. True, if things went as they should, she wouldn't be fighting this time, but there was no guarantee that everything would go as planned.
He cleared his throat and gained their attention. "I guess there's not much more we can do until the combat is closer, other than making sure that our divisions are ready."
His sisters nodded, while Aislynn remained silent. Lucy stepped over to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Everything will work out, Edmund. Aslan won't let us down."
Edmund returned her hug before he gently pushed her back enough so that he could drape one arm around her slender shoulders. "I know, Lu. He's never let us stand alone before. He'll come at the right time, and I know that you and Aislynn will be able to find him and bring him to us."
The steady clip-clop of Oreius' iron-shod hooves was the only sound as he and Peter moved through the quieter side passages of the How. With the Narnians and the Archenland army making final preparations for the upcoming battle, both the High King and the General sought relative peace for a conversation that they knew they needed to have. Peter felt distinctly uncomfortable, because Oreius was one of the people that he respected most.
Other than Aslan, Oreius was the one person in Narnia that Peter had most looked up to. The Centaur – older, wiser, and kind – had taken on the role of advisor, friend, and father-figure to Peter. Peter had – by necessity and circumstances – been a father to his siblings, but he had only been sixteen when they took the thrones, and he had needed someone who could advise him as well. Over the years, Oreius had been the steadying influence on Peter that had allowed the young High King to cope beneath the burden until he had grown in wisdom and experience enough to understand and accept every nuance of that burden. He had trusted Oreius with his safety, with the safety of his siblings and his wife, and with the protection of Narnia. He knew that Oreius had been saddled with a heavy burden as a result of their disappearance, and he hated the fact that such a responsibility had been placed on the noble Centaur. He didn't even know how to begin to apologize for it.
Yet, at the same time, there was comfort in walking with Oreius as well. The Centaur had been one of their most trusted advisors, as well as their weaponsmaster. The things that he had taught the four of them about weapons and tactics had saved their lives on more than one occasion, as well as helped them defend Narnia time and time again. Always, before they rode off to a battle, he and Edmund would spend a few hours planning out a campaign with the General. Oreius always had excellent suggestions about the best place to use their troops, especially in the early years when Peter and Edmund were still learning tactics and the best ways to use the many talents of the wide variety of Narnians.
The last time that he had been with Oreius to plan a battle had been four months before they had ridden out to find the White Stag and ended up in England again. The Giants of the North had been a nuisance – albeit a serious one – ever since they had taken the thrones. Because the lands of Narnia were so bountiful and abundant compared to the wild Northlands where the Giants made their home, every few years the Giants would rise up – usually spurred on by a more powerful Giant who had assumed the mantle of leadership – and march on Narnia in an attempt to claim some of the fertile land and its resources for themselves.
"The last report from the scouts indicated that they were coming straight down from the North, but oddly enough they seem to be following the coast," Oreius traced the Giants' route on the map spread out in front of them. "If they continue at the same pace, they should cross the River Shribble the day after tomorrow, and from there they have four days until they are marching on Cair Paravel – assuming, of course, that they don't stop to hunt."
Peter's lips tightened behind his golden beard as he studied the map. "How did we not know until they got this close? Where were the border patrols?"
Oreius shook his head. "I wish I knew, my King. The patrols have been constantly monitoring the border and sending in regular reports, but somehow they got past the troops in that area without being seen. It worries me, since Giants are not especially known for subtlety, and especially not the Northern Giants. Even more, they are not known for breaking their patterns, and they usually march on us in the early autumn, when hunting in their lands starts to become more difficult. It's only spring."
Peter shook his head. "The army will need to rally immediately, especially the troops that are fast and strong, like the Fauns, Centaurs, Satyrs, and Big Cats. Edmund and I will have to ride out at dawn if we hope to reach the river before the Giants cross. I don't want them crossing the Shribble – it puts them much too close to the Cair for comfort."
"I've already ordered the army to gather their things and assemble, King Peter," Oreius assured him. "King Edmund doesn't know about this yet, since he was in the middle of attending to Queen Susan and Prince Rabadash, but he promised to meet us here as soon as he could break away."
"I'm here now, Oreius," Edmund's voice, deep and rich, but as always, supremely calm, echoed through the War Room. He strode through the door that had been shoved open by one of the guards that was stationed outside the room and headed straight over to the map table where Peter and Oreius were working. "What troubles have been brought upon us this day?"
Oreius quickly explained the situation while Peter turned to a stack of parchment and the latest reports, making notes on the Giants' movement and the terrain. If it was at all possible, he wanted to be the one to pick this battlefield, which meant that they would have to press the army hard if they hoped to intercept the Giants before they reached the river.
"I cannot go."
Peter looked up, startled. "What did you say?"
Edmund's face was drawn into a deep scowl, one of the few times Peter could remember seeing his brother annoyed or perturbed. Even when he was at his most angry, Edmund usually maintained a serene expression, allowing justice and the law to guide him, rather than his emotions. "I cannot go with you, Peter. Not this time."
Peter stared at his brother, shocked. "Why for, brother?"
"Prince Rabadash is departing in two days' time, and he has insisted on Susan accompanying him to Tashbaan. She's already agreed to make it a bit of a state visit, but I will not let her go alone."
Peter's scowl quickly matched his brother's. "She could not wait until after this campaign? After all, the Splendor Hyaline is small and swift and could easily be used to accommodate the Prince's party, or if he must return, she could make the voyage when all of us may travel with her."
Edmund shrugged. "I think not. Prince Rabadash is quite insistent on the matter, and Su is more taken with him than any other suitor that I have seen for the past several years." He met his brother's cool blue eyes with his own dark ones. "I know Narnia needs us now, but we both pledged that Lucy and Susan needed to be cared for too. I do not care how much of a gentleman he seems to be – he has been pressing his marriage suit far too strongly to comfort me. I trust not that he is sincere in his affection for our fair and dear sister."
Peter nodded. "Your judgment, as ever, is precise, brother… you must insist, quite strongly, that we will convey the Prince and his party back to Tashbaan on the Hyaline. If Susan objects to that, tell her that it is an order from me. I will not see you stranded in Tashbaan without a way to get home."
Edmund nodded. "I shall, and the order shall not come just from you, brother mine. Lucy will back me as well."
"Good. In the meantime…" Peter looked back at the map. "I cannot afford to delay on this matter; else the Giants shall draw too close." He glanced over at Oreius. "It seems that you and I must lead this campaign, General."
Oreius saluted. "As you bid, my King."
A grim expression crossed Peter's face. "Then prepare our forces, General. At dawn, we ride."
And so they had. Dawn the next morning had seen them off on a campaign that had lasted for almost three months. They had intercepted the Giants before they crossed the River, but Peter had been determined to teach the Giants a lesson about marching on Aslan's beloved country this time, and the Giants had been determined not to lose yet again. Normally, one battle would have been enough to decide the conflict, but this time the Giants had fought back. At times, it had seemed like they were forced to fight over every inch of land, all the way back to the Northern border, but Peter and Oreius, working together, had finally driven them out of Narnia and left such an impression on the Giants that they would not dare take another try at acquiring Narnia for a long time.
Remembering that last campaign with his old friend brought a small smile to Peter's face. It had been long, and hard-fought, but just one of many examples of his ability to work with Oreius.
However, that smile turned to a frown as he remembered everything that had happened since that battle. While it may have only been four months for Peter, in Oreius' reality, it had been twenty-five years. Peter couldn't help but wonder what Oreius' feelings were. Was he disappointed or angry at their abandonment? Was he only standing with them as a result of an oath sworn long ago and a sense of obligation and duty to Narnia and Aslan?
"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, just loudly enough for Oreius to hear as they walked. He owed the Centaur more than just those two little words, but he didn't even know where he should begin if he was going to apologize. He only hoped that if Oreius was angry, he would understand and give him a chance to explain. In all of the chaos of the last few days, he hadn't had a chance to sit down and explain things to the Centaur.
Oreius stopped suddenly as Peter's words reached his ears. Peter continued walking for several more paces before he realized that Oreius had stopped. The High King turned back to face the Centaur, who was staring at him, surprise etched on his wise, kind face. It was an expression that Peter had almost never seen on the General's face.
Over the fifteen years he had served them, Peter had seen many expressions on Oreius' face – joy, awe, respect, sadness. The one he knew best was the stern, unflappable gaze of a weaponsmaster teaching his students. And of course, there was the fiery, angry gaze that had been on the General's face whenever Peter or Edmund were injured on the battlefield. That look had been nearly powerful enough to rival Peter's when his brother was injured or when he had been pushed past his tolerance.
But there was none of that on the Centaur's noble face now. Only surprise, followed by deep confusion – yet another emotion that Peter had only rarely seen. Oreius stared at him for a long moment, before slowly shaking his head. "Whatever for, Your Majesty?"
Peter couldn't believe that Oreius was asking that question. He knew the Centaur could not have forgotten everything that had happened to Narnia since the day that he and his siblings had left Narnia. Peter suspected that he knew barely a tenth of what Oreius, Krisalyn, and the rest of Narnia had gone through during the long years. He also knew that they would never tell him everything that had happened.
Peter owed Oreius so much – the Centaur had truly been there for Peter when Peter had needed him the most, after all. Instead, all that Oreius had received was their abandonment, the additional responsibility of helping Krisalyn to keep Narnia alive in their absence, and the burden of protecting Narnia's last remaining Queen and the young Princess who had until recently had no comprehension of her role.
"You were forced to shoulder a responsibility that you never should have had to, old friend," Peter whispered, some part of him feeling as if he didn't deserve to call this Centaur his friend after everything that he had done or caused to happen to the noble warrior. "And it is all through our fault. In the meeting, you said that you were to blame for what happened because you could not repel the Telmarines – but that is not true. The blame for what happened to Narnia does not rest on you – it rests on me."
He bowed his head slightly, and as a consequence missed the dawning comprehension in Oreius' face and the compassion, sympathy, and sorrow in his eyes as he took in the sight of the hunched form of the miserable High King.
Oreius looked at his King and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. It was apparent that the High King and his family had been through a great deal. While Oreius didn't understand how their Majesties had somehow come back to Narnia as children once again, it didn't matter to him. It was equally obvious that they retained everything that they had learned during their reign, and they truly were glad to be back and were horrified over what had happened to their beloved country. Oreius had stood beside them for fifteen years and watched them give everything they possessed and then even more. By the last year before they had disappeared, Oreius would have sworn that the four monarchs were bound so tightly to Narnia and her well-being that they wouldn't be able to leave without feeling acute grief.
Apparently that had not been the case – or had it?
But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that Narnia's monarchs had returned during Narnia's darkest hour, and they were once again throwing themselves back into the defense and protection of Narnia and her people. Narnia's monarchs still loved their country, and in Oreius' mind, that was enough to balance the twenty-five years that they had been missing, at least until he understood the full story.
"You have nothing for which to be sorry, King Peter," Oreius said quietly, moving closer to his King and gently resting a hand calloused from decades of swordplay on the eldest King's shoulder. "You are here, you are prepared to fight for Narnia once again, and what happened is in the past. It no longer matters, thus you are not to blame for what happened. There are some things that cannot be changed no matter what we try. It is possible that had you been here, Narnia would still have been invaded, and you and your siblings would have been lost as well. If that was the case, then Narnia would have been lost forever, for there would be no one who could rally your people now."
As Peter looked up, Oreius moved his hand from Peter's shoulder and used it to very gently – for a Centaur – cuff him alongside the head, as he often had during the early years when Peter or Edmund had done something that pleased him in training. It had been years since Oreius had used that gesture of affection, even before they had left Narnia. Peter felt his heart lighten at the Centaur's gesture and his ready forgiveness. It had been about the same time that Peter had married Krisalyn that Oreius had stopped using that gesture of affection, and he had never realized how much he had missed it, or how much comfort he had drawn from it.
He wanted to thank Oreius, feeling the Centaur deserved that much at least, but as he opened his mouth, Oreius seemed to anticipate it. The General's hand dropped back to his shoulder. "Worry about what is coming, my King. You will have a true fight on your hands today, and distraction will be your undoing."
Peter could only nod as he understood that Oreius didn't need or want thanks. The Centaur had done what duty demanded of him, but he had also done it because he genuinely cared about Peter and his family. It hadn't been a burden to Oreius, but an honor. Thanking or apologizing for it would only cheapen what Oreius had done so selflessly.
They resumed their walk, Oreius' long strides easily catching up to Peter as he turned around. Peter was silent for several seconds, thinking about what he was about to do. Finally, he asked the question that had been at the back of his mind ever since they had decided to take this course. "General, do you really think I can defeat Miraz?"
"Of course, King Peter," Oreius replied calmly. "You and King Edmund are my greatest students. You know the Chronicles refer to you as Narnia's Sword – and for good reason."
"I am afraid that I am not as certain, Oreius. I am not the warrior I was before we left. My stamina and strength are not as great as they were, and I have laid eyes on Miraz up close only once – what I saw seemed formidable."
"Your Majesty, you defeated many opponents larger and possibly stronger than you before your strength and stamina were developed, and before you were trained in swordsmanship," Oreius replied calmly. "It is no different now, except that you are fully trained."
"Narnia is depending on me this time though," Peter countered. "In other battles, if I fell, you and Edmund were there to take command. This time, if I fall, we are honor-bound to surrender. If I fail, Narnia will be lost."
Oreius placed his hand on Peter's shoulder again and drew him to a stop. His eyes were puzzled, but his face was kind. He leaned down slightly, so that he could look Peter directly in the eyes. "Why do you believe that you will fail, my King?"
Peter stared at Oreius steadily. "You are not the only one who swore an oath at Beruna, General."
The battle was over, his siblings were safe, and although many of the Narnians had died, Aslan and Lucy had been able to restore many more back from being turned to stone or wounded. At first, Peter had feared that he had gotten the entire army killed, but once the wounded had been tended to, the casualties were much less than he had feared.
They had returned to the camp for a victory feast, and the celebrating was still going on as Peter slipped quietly away from the bonfire. He smiled at the sight of his sisters being swept into the dancing by several of the Dryads. Everything had happened so fast – he needed some peace and quiet to sort through the day.
Peter moved into the darkness beyond the fires, hesitated for a moment, and then found the path that led back towards the tent that he had shared with his brother the night before. The tent was isolated at the back of the camp, and with everyone gathered around the fires the tents would be quiet.
Just as he reached the tents, however, he realized that it would be too easy to find him here. He really wanted a chance to be completely alone. Ever since they had arrived at Aslan's camp, he'd been surrounded by Narnians who needed him to do different things in preparation for the battle. He just needed a place where he could be alone to think. He passed by the tent and instead headed towards the ridge above the camp. He found the path and started up, remembering that the last time he had climbed up this way had been for the same reason – to be alone to think. When he reached the top he looked out over the camp. If he was completely honest with himself, he couldn't believe that it was over. He couldn't believe that he had survived.
He had survived.
That realization hit him at the same moment as he remembered everything that he had seen and heard on the battlefield – the blood, the cries and screams of the injured and dying, the sight of Edmund being stabbed by the Witch, the Witch's cold, cruel smirk as she leaned over him in preparation to kill him…
It was too much. Peter fell to his knees and proceeded to be violently ill as the victory feast that had tasted so wonderful an hour ago suddenly tasted much worse coming back up. For several seconds, he wretched and gagged in silent misery, all the while hearing the screams and cries from the battle in his mind, and smelling the coppery tang of blood and the odor of sickness. Growing up amidst a war, with the Germans bombing anything that they could target, Peter was no stranger to devastation. He knew neighbors who had lost their homes because a bomb had fallen too close, and had seen people digging through rubble and collapsed buildings looking for loved ones who might be trapped.
But the things that he had seen that day were horrifying enough to overwhelm him, despite all of the things that he had seen at home. All he could do was simply ride out the sickness and try to force himself to forget what he had seen. When all he was expelling was bile, he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his shaking hand.
Soft, heavy breaths from behind him alerted him to the presence of someone else, and he tensed, hoping that Edmund or one of his sisters hadn't followed him away from the fire and seen him become ill. He didn't want to worry them. A moment later, he heard a gentle purring and felt warm breath on the back of his neck.
"Peter, why do you slip away in darkness?" Aslan's deep voice rumbled. "This feast is for you too."
"I – I just needed some time to think," Peter said. "Everything today happened so fast and was so intense."
"That is often the way of things," Aslan agreed, coming around to stand in front of Peter. "As High King, you will find that it happens frequently. The decisions that you and your siblings make will influence Narnia and her neighbors. You are the oldest, so for a time, until your siblings come to understand what Narnia requires of them, the burden of rule will fall on you."
Peter thought about that. What Aslan was describing – it was beyond his comprehension. He'd been told by his teachers, his friends, and his parents that he was a natural leader, but in his mind that wasn't the best quality for kingship. As a child, he'd never really seen himself as a King, even in his imagination. Sure, he'd gotten through this battle, but it could have been luck. If Aslan hadn't arrived with reinforcements when he had, they would have lost. The Narnians were looking for anyone to lead, and somehow they naturally assumed that he would know what he was doing because he was human and (from Peter's understanding) the first Kings of Narnia had been human, or descended from a human blood-line.
"Aslan, would you send us back if we wanted to go – before we are crowned I mean?" Peter felt like he had to ask the question, although the idea of leaving Narnia left a heavy feeling in his stomach and a tightness in his chest.
Aslan's golden eyes met his. For a long moment, he stared at Peter, apparently looking through him and measuring him against an unknown standard. Peter held the Lion's gaze, although it was difficult – the kindness and power made him want to look away.
Finally... "If that is what you truly wish, Peter. You have done what I asked in helping to free my people from the Witch. I truly believe, however, that you and your siblings will continue to do great things for Narnia." He regarded Peter. "I only ask that you consider it."
He turned and started to pace away, back down the path towards the encampment, and Peter managed to rise to his feet. As he watched Aslan leave, his eyes were drawn back to the bonfire again, and he heard the joyful shouts and music of a people who had never known anything but a cold, never-ending winter. He and Edmund, Susan, and Lucy had already helped to change that. What more could they accomplish? What might they learn?
A warm feeling began to blossom inside him at the thought. He and his siblings were being given an amazing, once in a lifetime chance. How could they pass it up?
"Aslan…" He spun back to look at the Lion again.
The great Lion paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Yes, Peter?"
Peter approached him slowly, coming to stand in front of him so he could look into those golden eyes. Once he was there, he unsheathed the sword that Father Christmas had given him, which was still carried on his hip, and knelt down. He turned the sword so that the tip rested on the grass and bowed his head before Aslan as he had when Aslan had knighted him two days ago. "I, Peter Pevensie, hereby pledge myself this day to Narnia – to her protection, health, and life. I pledge to serve her and her people to the best of my ability, with sword, word, body, mind, and spirit. I swear to follow and serve Aslan, the great Lion, to listen to his commands and to trust him to guard my life and the lives of my people when I cannot." He wasn't sure what was inspiring this, but it felt right.
A pleased rumble came from Aslan's throat as he bent his great head with its magnificent mane and blew a warm, sweet breath on Peter's cheek. "Your oath is accepted, High King. I am well pleased, my son."
Despite what swearing that oath had meant, Peter considered it one of his most precious memories, ranking alongside the awe he had felt the first time he had seen Aslan, the sheer delight when he had been crowned, and the joy of his marriage to Krisalyn. However, he had not told his siblings – not even Edmund – about that night. It was a private memory, a moment shared between him and Aslan alone. At the time, his siblings had not been ready to understand – as Aslan had said, it had been nearly a full year as Narnia's monarchs before they truly began to realize what being Kings and Queens would entail.
Because they did not know about Peter's oath, they did not realize how much seeing what had happened to Narnia in their absence was tearing at him. If they had, some of his behavior towards Caspian would have made more sense. They believed that most of his attitude and behavior had been due to the uncertainty regarding Krisalyn's fate. To a degree, that was true. Peter had been frantic to learn about his wife – but the whole truth was much deeper that that.
Over the years of their rule, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy had all become a part of Narnia in their own ways. But for Peter, the bond was deeper and the price steeper. It had begun that night at Beruna, with his oath to Aslan, but even he hadn't realized until much later what swearing that oath would mean.
To truly become the High King, Peter had been forced to give his body, his mind, his life, and his soul to Narnia. His bond to his new country had grown stronger gradually, but steadily. As a result, he felt Narnia inside him – her sorrow and her joy, her pain and her very essence. It was for that reason that he had been able to so completely and selflessly put Narnia first. When Narnia needed him, or something was wrong, he knew and he was forced to act. His siblings felt the same, emotionally. But for Peter it became an unconscious command that he could not resist, and that was what his siblings did not realize.
Oreius studied the High King closely. To his surprise, the King's clear blue eyes began to fill with tears. Oreius tightened his grip on Peter's shoulder. "What is wrong, my King?"
"Narnia is in pain, Oreius. I can feel it." He reached up and touched his chest with his hand, right over his heart. "I can feel Narnia right here. When she is in danger, she cries out to me; she reaches out for my help. During the time I was gone, I couldn't feel her – I had no idea what was happening. But now that I am back I can feel it again. Narnia knows how close she is to being lost, and it is reflecting back to me."
Oreius' eyes widened as he realized what Peter was describing. The High King was spiritually linked to his country. He had often heard people describe Narnia's Kings and Queens by the names Aslan had given them – Magnificent, Just, Gentle, and Valiant. But people had also called King Peter Narnia's Sword and King Edmund her Shield. Oreius had suspected for many years that the bond Narnia had with her monarchs went deeper even than that.
"We will give her the help she seeks, Your Majesty." He released his grip on Peter's shoulders and started walking again. "Narnia cries out to you because she knows you can save her."
"But if I fail…" Peter began.
"You won't fail, my King. Narnia will not let you fail," Oreius interjected. ""Narnia means something to each of you, my King. Queen Susan is her Heart – her love and her passion, her kindness, and her beauty. King Edmund is Narnia's Honor – his sense of justice is strengthened by Narnia and Narnia prospers due to his wisdom."
He could see comprehension dawning in the High King's eyes. A thoughtful look crossed his face before he spoke. "Lucy is her Joy," Peter said, confident in his analysis. "Narnia's very life speaks of Aslan's grace and love, and Lucy embodies that completely."
Oreius nodded in agreement. "And you, Majesty…you are her Soul. Her very essence is bound to you –if you died, she would not die, but she certainly would not be the same without you, her High King. I believe some of her beauty would be gone without you. Aslan gave you the title of High King, and the responsibility of being High King over all Kings of Narnia – it has tied you to Narnia's past, present, and future."
"I knew that," Peter whispered. "It was why I lashed out at Caspian just before you arrived. Narnia was crying for my help, and – since I didn't know that Aislynn was my daughter – I was forced to put Narnia in his hands. But he wasn't ready, and having to entrust my country to someone who was bent only on revenge at the time was tearing me apart, and it was hurting Narnia, because I couldn't do anything to help her."
"But the Prince is a good man, High King," Oreius corrected. "He is young, but so were you."
Peter nodded. "I know that now. After this is over, I suspect we'll know for sure if Caspian is truly worthy of the crown – although by rights it should pass to Aislynn, since she is my heir."
"Worry about that after this battle is over, Your Majesty. There will be time then. But now Narnia's Sword will need to be unleashed in her defense once again."
A determined look entered Peter's eyes. "Indeed it does, General."
Caspian was beginning to wish that he had not suggested the duel as he watched King Edmund, Queen Lucy, and Queen Susan tend to the last preparations that could be made until it was time for Queen Lucy and Princess Aislynn to depart on their quest. Their faces were seemingly serene, but their eyes were filled with worry and fear. They had little to say, but their heavy glances at each other spoke volumes and added to the tension in the room.
He finally excused himself and went to the stables to make sure that Destrier was ready. The stables were busy, but Destrier was in a quiet corner in order to keep him calm until it was time for the two royals to leave. He found a brush and began quietly grooming the stallion and talking quietly to him. In many ways, Destrier was the only friend that he had ever had. As a Prince, his uncle had insisted that he was too important to socialize with the children who lived near the castle. None of the Lords on the Council had children, and there was no one else who was close to his own age. After his nurse had been sent away, his life had revolved around his weapons training, his classes with the Professor (both the official and the unofficial ones) and riding lessons on Destrier.
The stallion craned his head around and nudged Caspian's arm with his nose, snorting out a soft breath as Caspian smiled despite himself. He reached over and rubbed the horse's nose firmly. "You'll run until your strength gives out, won't you, old friend? Their Highnesses are depending on you to get them through safely. You got me safely to the Narnians, after all."
"I am certain that he will serve valiantly."
Caspian spun around, surprised, instinctively starting to reach for his dagger. He relaxed when he realized that Aislynn was standing behind him and he quickly slid the dagger he had begun to remove from the sheath back into place. He bowed. "Your Highness."
"There is no need for formality, Caspian," Aislynn chided him gently as she approached and reached out to stroke Destrier's nose. "You are royalty, as well. Discovering that I am High King Peter's daughter has not changed who I am."
Caspian straightened up and regarded her seriously. "Perhaps, but I am second to you, my lady. You are the daughter of the High King, and you are the true heir to the Narnian throne. I had no right to make a pledge to rule the Narnians if they helped me reclaim the throne my uncle stole from me, because it was never mine to begin with."
Aislynn shook her head. "That is not so, Caspian. I may be the heir to the Narnian throne, but you are still the rightful King of the Telmarines. You had no idea that there was a living heir until my father and his siblings arrived. I did not even know that I was the heir. There is no reason that we cannot work together to bring peace to Narnia. If I am named Queen, I have no intention of forcing your people to leave Narnia. We can co-exist in peace. The Narnians simply want their homes back and do not want to be forced to live in exile any longer."
Caspian nodded and turned back to finish grooming his stallion. Aislynn continued to stand by Destrier's head, gently stroking the stallion's neck as she watched him silently. Caspian soon turned his attention to his horse's hooves, wanting to make sure that the shoes were tight and that there were no stones or other injuries that he may have picked up during either escape from the castle.
"It was very kind of you to offer your horse," Aislynn ventured as she watched him.
"You and Queen Lucy are taking on a dangerous task," Caspian answered, looking up at her. "You will need the best horse that you can possibly get. Most of the horses belong to the Archenland army. The few that we've managed to deprive my uncle of are no match for Destrier. He is swift, strong, and well-trained."
"I thank you, and I know that my aunt thanks you as well." Aislynn was quiet for another few moments. "Caspian, I –"
"Aislynn, I wanted to tell you that –" Caspian began at the same time, only to stop as he realized she was speaking. She stopped at the same time and for a moment there was an awkward silence.
"Please, you were about to say something," Aislynn offered.
"No, you may continue," Caspian replied quickly.
Aislynn hesitated, and then nodded. "Caspian, I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you."
Caspian blinked, startled.
She saw his surprised and continued. "It was very brave of you to trust the Narnians considering that to them you were the enemy, and very kind of you to offer to help them reclaim what was taken from them."
To his horror, Caspian blushed redly and stammered slightly as he tried to answer her. "T-thank you. I – erm, I think you are very brave to offer to go and find Aslan. It could be very dangerous if my uncle's scouts see you."
Aislynn nodded. "I know, but it is also something that I know I can do. The Narnians are my people – I cannot refuse to help them."
Caspian could only nod as well. Silence fell between them again, and Caspian quickly turned his attention to checking Destrier's feet. The silence grew long, but this time it didn't feel uncomfortable or awkward. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Aislynn as she continued to stroke Destrier's silky coat. Ever since she had arrived at the How, bearing King Cor's greetings and offers of assistance, Caspian had been watching her closely. Her beauty had been one of the first things to capture his attention, but having seen many of the "beauties" at his uncle's court, he knew that there were things more important than just beauty. Her gentle, yet determined attitude had earned her his admiration, but he had yet to tell her that in so many words.
Originally, if they survived the battle, he had begun to consider requesting permission to court her, at least before he had found out that she was royal, not just noble. Now, however, he knew that she was the daughter of High King Peter and was the rightful Queen of Narnia. He feared that paying court to her would look like he was merely taking advantage of her status to gain political power, and that the Narnians would not take it well. It was one thing to follow and accept the leadership of a prince whose people had invaded your country when there was no apparent blood-line heir to the throne. It was quite a different thing to accept that prince as the Queen's consort once a war had been won.
"Please excuse me, Caspian," she said suddenly. "I need to go and see my father and General Oreius. Everything will begin happening soon."
Caspian straightened and lowered Destrier's hoof to the ground. "I shall meet you back here when it is time for you and Queen Lucy to depart."
She nodded, gave one last pat to Destrier's shoulder, and quietly slipped away, vanishing into the crowd of Archenland soldiers who were also readying their mounts. King Cor was about to take his army out and get them into position for the flanking maneuver. The army would have to use the side and back passages to get out of the How without being seen by the Telmarines.
Destrier was ready, and there wasn't much more that Caspian could do. He left his stallion tethered in his quiet corner and moved out into the main area of the stable, looking to see if anyone needed help readying their horses. It seemed, however, that Cor's army was well-disciplined and had everything under control. So Caspian left the stables in order to stay out of the way. He idly wandered through the How, looking for something he could do, but it seemed that the days of planning had worked quite well, because everyone knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing.
At a bit of a loss, Caspian moved into the corridor that led to the Stone Table chamber. He hesitated for a moment, before he squared his shoulders and headed down into the depths of the How. He hadn't been back into this room since the fight, and it was probably past time that he did – at least before they went out into what could be the final battle. As he entered, he noticed that all traces of what had happened earlier had been cleaned up. The magical ice had disappeared, the circle that he had stood in had been swept away, and the bodies of Nikabrik, the werewolf, and the hag had been taken out of the How.
He moved around the Table until he was standing in front of the carving of Aslan. He studied it closely, noting the way the flickering firelight seemed to give life to the eyes. It was a magnificent effect and he had to admire the unknown artist who had carved the relief so skillfully so as to make it look real. He glanced around, and then took a seat on one of the steps that would have led up to the Table if it had still been whole. He had seen Queen Lucy sitting on top of the table earlier, but he didn't have the same level of comfort to be so at ease in this room.
Doctor Cornelius and his Nurse had told him what stories they could about Narnia, and of the ones that they had been able to sneak past his uncle, Aslan had featured prominently in them. Caspian remembered hearing the legend of how Aslan had sung the world into being, a vague account of the battle against the White Witch (although after hearing Peter's version, he realized that the version he had been told had been lacking more than he had realized), and general tales about Aslan's love for his people. As a child, he had been fascinated by the idea of a great Lion who cared so much for his people.
The Telmarines had no deity who held (not commanded) the reverence that the Narnians bestowed on Aslan. To Caspian's people, the King was the highest authority and commanded all the respect and obedience of the Telmarines. The King's word was law, and that was why there had been times in his people's history when they had suffered. A cruel, selfish King could cause great harm, and those Kings had been despised and hated. But good, wise Kings (like Caspian's father had been, according to Cornelius) were given honor and respect by the Telmarines – they just were not worshipped. After all, even the greatest of Kings was still a mortal man.
He…admired…the Narnians who could put their faith in someone like Aslan, who was apparently as far beyond them as a star was above the earth. The trust such an act of faith required was extraordinary. Some part of him wanted to be able to believe as the Narnians did, but it was hard when he had grown up being taught to rely only on himself.
Queen Lucy had such amazing faith in Aslan for someone her age – she was certain that he was out there and that he would find them and give them the aid that they needed to save Narnia. Her trust and her willingness to ride headlong into danger, confident that the great Lion could protect her…Caspian had never trusted anything or anyone that much. He had been betrayed too many times, and even Cornelius' lessons were not strong enough to counter his own feelings after growing up in a court that was a constant battle of ambition and secrecy. Caspian found that he couldn't understand why Aslan would wait all this time to act – if he had the power to save Narnia, why wouldn't he use it? His inaction thus far seemed to be contrary to the idea of the benevolent, powerful King that the Narnians believed in.
If we're going to win this battle, everyone will need to have complete faith that this plan will work. I know my people – the ambitious Lords will not honor the terms of the challenge that Uncle and King Peter agreed upon if Peter wins. If Aslan doesn't come, we will lose. Uncle's army is simply stronger and larger than ours.
Of course, that meant that he would need to start believing in Aslan too. But how did he even begin to put faith in a higher power like that?