Author's Note: *waves to readers* Hi everyone! Remember how I said the previous chapter was the longest one in the story? Well…I lied. This chapter has now become the longest, at thirty-two pages…and the entire story is now over five hundred pages long…and we're still not done!
I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks to all the reviewers: WiseQueen, doggirlyn, Lauren, Quathis, Victoria Alatamir Wan, and one anonymous fan. I'm always so glad to see your reviews, and I can't wait to see what you think about this monstrosity!
Chapter Thirty-One: Never Yield
Aslan's How…
Narnia's Sword was going to triumph in this duel. It was a simple fact, and Edmund knew it to be truth the moment that he realized that the change had come over Peter. His brother's movements became more fluid, more graceful, with each passing moment. It was his brother out there – and yet it wasn't.
The first time Edmund had ever seen Narnia's Sword unleashed, it had frightened him. He hadn't known how to explain what he had witnessed that day.
Edmund gripped as tightly with his legs as he could as Phillip kicked out, smashing in the teeth of an Ogre that had come up behind him with the intention of stabbing the younger King in the back. The impact threw him forward slightly, but he trusted Phillip –the two of them had been partners ever since Beruna. The Talking Horse, upon learning that Edmund had never ridden before, had taken it upon himself to teach him the proper way to ride, right from the beginning, so that he wouldn't learn any bad habits.
Even as Edmund laid about him with his sword, Philip was using his natural weaponry – his hooves and teeth – to his own advantage, crippling or distracting many of the enemy long enough for Edmund to finish them off. They plunged through the ranks of the enemy, shadowed by two of the great Leopards who were guarding Philip's flanks and keeping the enemy from getting into a position where neither Horse nor rider would be able to react in time.
As part of their duties, Peter and Edmund were rooting out the last remnants of the Witch's forces – many had fled when Aslan had appeared on the battlefield, but as rumors had trickled in to them at Cair Paravel, the two Kings (and sometimes Susan and Lucy) would ride out to deal with the Fell Creatures. This battle was yet another one of those small campaigns – a group of Fell Creatures had been terrorizing some of the Narnians who lived in the northwestern area of Narnia – the area around the Witch's castle, where Peter's Northern territory and Edmund's western expanse joined. This was the third such campaign that they had fought this year, their second year as Narnia's Kings.
A Narnian trumpet shattered the air with a rallying call. Edmund's head shot up, even as he impaled a Hag on the tip of his sword. That was Peter's call – he was calling to the army to rally to his side – a call that he would only use if his situation was serious.
Philip tossed his head. "Hold on, my King!" he cried, before he wheeled about to face the other way. Edmund scanned the battlefield, looking for his brother's distinctive mount. Just like Philip and Edmund had become partners, Peter had remained battle partners with his own mount from Beruna, a handsome Unicorn named Lyeit. On the battlefield, the Unicorn was distinctive – tall, with a shining golden horn that reflected the light brilliantly.
It took Edmund a moment, but he finally spotted his brother – but he didn't see Lyeit. His brother was standing with his back against a rocky rise, Rhindon unsheathed and cutting a swathe through the enemy that dared to challenge him. At Beruna, a year ago, Edmund had suspected that Peter would prove to be a brilliant swordsman, and a year of intense daily training under Oreius had begun to bear that suspicion out.
At the moment, however, Peter was badly outnumbered. They had only had a small force with them, since the reports had only been a small group of Fell Creatures – but their intelligence had seemed to be wrong, for there were many more Fell Creatures that Edmund had been prepared for. It wasn't a number that was so overwhelming that they couldn't handle it, but it just meant they had to be more careful.
From his height on Philip's back, Edmund could see that Lyeit had been caught in the side with a mace swung by a large Ogre and had gone down, spilling Peter to the ground. Peter didn't appear to be injured, but he was now standing bravely in front of his friend defending his life. He was pressed upon by two Hags, a Dwarf, and an Efreet.
"Narnia!" Edmund screamed, standing in Philip's stirrups. "To the High King!"
The call was taken up by the Narnians around him as a trumpet again blew Peter's rallying call. Immediately, the Narnians began trying to break away from their battles and fight their way to the High King's side.
"Philip! Get me to Peter!" Edmund ordered, dropping back into the saddle.
Philip tossed his head and charged forward, gathering himself. Edmund braced himself as Philip suddenly jumped, getting enough height on his jump that he leaped clear over the heads of three Dwarves who were on Edmund's side. Edmund kept his eyes on Peter, even as Philip landed and began racing through the enemy ranks.
They were closing in on Peter when Edmund suddenly saw a change come over Peter. His face grew remarkably still and calm, and his attacks became more fluid than Edmund had ever seen them before, even when Peter was having an especially good day on the training fields. There was a grace and a beauty to each motion that Edmund had never seen in his brother's sword work before – and it was both terrible and beautiful.
That was not his brother.
Edmund had seen his brother change that day, the first day that Narnia's Sword had been unleashed in her defense. Peter's aura – always strong and bold on the battlefield – had become so bright and so powerful, it had been humbling to see. But at the same time, there had been something so powerfully dangerous about his brother – it had been as if Peter had gone completely mad and would simply strike down anything or anyone that stood in his way. At first, Edmund had thought that Peter, in that moment, had finally mastered the perfect fighting clarity that Oreius had been trying to get them to embrace – the point at which all emotion melted away, leaving only a supreme awareness of one's opponent and one's self, a place where no fear or pain could touch one – until he had talked to his brother later.
Peter had been unable to describe exactly what becoming Narnia's Sword was like, but over the years of their reign he had insisted that it was not the same as what Oreius had been trying to teach them. All he'd been able to tell Edmund about it was that it was if he had connected to something so much more powerful and mighty than he was, that he simply became a conduit or a vessel for it.
Over the years of their reign, it had happened only a handful of times, but whenever Peter and Edmund sat down and talked about it, they realized that it only seemed to happen when Narnia was peril. It seemed that whatever caused Peter to become Narnia's Sword could not be invoked at will, or simply to defend Peter's life.
Edmund watched as Narnia's Sword brought Miraz to his knees, one gauntleted fist held up and ready to strike, even as Miraz called for a respite. Edmund was expecting to see the blow fall regardless of the respite – he had never known his brother to spare any enemy when he was acting as Narnia's Sword – yet Peter stayed the blow. For suddenly, it was Peter again, not the Sword. The change was almost instantaneous, rather than the slow change back that Edmund usually saw. Normally it took Peter several hours to emerge from whatever state becoming Narnia's Sword left him in – he could still function, but there was just a peaceful tranquility to the change, as if – whatever it was – was giving him time to come to terms with what had happened.
Although it went against everything he was and believed in as the Just King, Edmund couldn't stop himself from calling out to his brother. "This is no time for chivalry, Peter!"
Instead, Peter lowered his hand, nodding before he stepped around Miraz, heading back to his own side.
"What just happened?" Caspian breathed. Edmund glanced over at the Prince, whose eyes were wide with shock and awe.
"You just saw Narnia's Sword," Edmund said simply. "I've only witnessed it a few times myself, but –" he broke off, horrified as he watched Miraz seize his sword and leap to his feet, spinning in order to plunge the blade into his brother's back while he was vulnerable. "Peter! Watch out!"
Peter spun around and ducked, barely avoiding the blade that whistled past his head – so close, in fact, that Edmund actually saw several blonde hairs float towards the ground in the blade's wake. It honestly couldn't have been any closer as Peter straightened back up.
But that wasn't Peter.
As he caught a glimpse of his brother's face, Edmund realized that, for the first time in the fifteen years of their reign, he was witnessing the power that made Peter Narnia's Sword acting solely to preserve his brother's life. The aura around him – although not visible – could certainly be felt, and the light in the bright blue eyes that heralded the change was there as well.
Peter dodged another swipe of the usurper's blade before he suddenly grabbed it in both hands – by the blade, no less – and twisted it free of Miraz's grasp. With one hand, he shoved Miraz back as he wrapped his other hand around the hilt. Then he stepped forward and drove the blade into Miraz's side.
Miraz gasped.
Peter pulled the blade back out – it was covered in Miraz's blood, a deep wound indeed. Slowly, Miraz fell to his knees as Peter – or was it Narnia's Sword now? – raised the bloody blade in preparation to take Miraz's life. But again, he stayed the blow.
Edmund found himself holding his breath, wondering what would happen. Miraz was a threat to all of Narnia – he had to be eliminated, and if it was Narnia's Sword that stood there now, Edmund knew the blade would fall. Narnia's Sword acted in Narnia's defense, always. An enemy to Narnia would never be permitted to live.
Miraz looked up and sneered. "What's the matter boy? Too cowardly to take a life?"
"It's not mine to take," Peter hissed. Yes, it was Peter who stood there now. And, as Edmund and all of the Narnians and Telmarines watched, it was Peter who lowered the sword and half-turned, before he held the bloody blade out to Caspian. It was Peter's calm, serene gaze that was on his brother's face as he watched the prince stare between the blade and his uncle.
Slowly, Caspian stepped forward, into the center of the ruins where his uncle knelt, watching him. He stepped up next to King Peter and stared into those bright blue eyes for a long moment. The High King's gaze was quiet and filled with a calm confidence, along with a hint of pain from his injuries.
Why was the High King doing this? Yes, Caspian had been wronged by his uncle, but so had all of Narnia. King Peter had as much right to claim Miraz's life as he did. It didn't make any sense. He knew King Peter had killed before, so it couldn't be an aversion to taking a life as Miraz had claimed.
"Caspian." His name was soft when the High King spoke. "This duel was to decide your right to the throne. You were the one who was wronged. It is your right to decide his fate."
Caspian reached out, hesitated, and then took hold of the hilt, wrapping his hand around it. As soon as he had a firm grip on it, the High King released the blade and stepped past him, stooping to pick up Rhindon before he walked over to King Edmund. Caspian would have expected the younger King to begin fussing over his brother, but everyone was watching him.
It was actually intimidating.
And it made him wonder if he was even ready to be a King. He was eighteen in a month, and according to Telmarine law he had to be eighteen to claim the throne. But the pressure of all the eyes on him as he stood there with his uncle kneeling at his feet, his uncle's sword in his hand, waiting for his fate to be decided…for a moment, Caspian froze. He didn't know what he should do. Part of him wanted, so badly, to simply kill his uncle for what the man had done. His uncle had tried to have him murdered, had murdered his father, usurped the throne, had killed countless numbers of Narnians over the years since Narnia had been conquered, had caused the rightful Queen and heir to live in exile for twenty-five years, and had declared war on the Narnians. By any law, he was too dangerous to be allowed to live, and justice surely demanded that his life be forfeit for his crimes.
But was that a decision that Caspian could make? Could he calmly stab or behead his uncle here and now, in front of all of these witnesses? What would he do, as King, when he had to pass down a sentence against a criminal? How would he safely lead his people into battle against another army, if he couldn't make a decision here and now, especially when it was a decision that could end a war?
Slowly, he raised the blade, carefully bracing it with his left hand as he stood above his uncle, trying to decide what he should do. Two days ago, he would have gladly killed Miraz for his crimes.
Eliminating him will also eliminate the threat to the Narnians. Trumpkin told us that Miraz vowed to find me, even if he had to burn down the entire forest. If my uncle is dead, here and now, not even Sopespian could legally challenge my right to the throne, since he witnessed the agreement made between King Edmund and Miraz. Narnia would be safe, and I can deal with Sopespian once I am crowned. The Narnians would support my being crowned immediately, rather than waiting another month.
Caspian tightened his arm, prepared to drive the sword into his uncle's black heart, when something – perhaps a look in Miraz's eye, or a thought whispered into his heart – stopped him.
He's a father now…yes, he robbed me of my father, but can I really deprive my cousin of his father? I know what it is like to grow up without a father. Do I have the right to inflict that pain on another person, and possibly start this whole cycle over again?
Miraz was studying him with those dark eyes that were full of pain from his wounds – but there was something else there as well. There was surrender – for he knew he'd lost – and a deep contemplation…and….pride?
"Perhaps I was wrong," the usurper murmured. "Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine King after all." He studied Caspian for another moment before he bowed his head, waiting for the blow.
A Telmarine king? Ambitious, greedy, cruel? One like you? Some inner part of Caspian recoiled at the thought. NO! I am not going to be like that. I am Narnian!
With a shout of outrage at the very idea that he could become like his uncle, Caspian drove the blade forward – and the bloody tip sank into a tuft of grass right in front of his uncle. Miraz looked up, startled, and Caspian leaned down close to him. "Not one like you," he hissed fiercely. "Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom." He looked up and caught Glozelle's gaze again, seeing the Telmarine general give him a nod of respect. In that moment, as the Narnians cheered, he felt like a King.
I will not be a Telmarine King and take what is not mine. I am Narnian, and I will be a King whom Aslan can be proud of. I will hold myself with dignity and honor, just like King Peter and King Edmund.
Peter watched as Caspian spared his uncle's life and felt proud. The prince had made the right decision, whatever his reasoning might be. Yes, Miraz more than deserved death, but so had Edmund when he had betrayed them by going over to the Witch. And Aslan had spared Edmund's life and forgiven him. Now, Caspian had spared Miraz's life, and even though there wasn't forgiveness – yet – there was no reason to think that Miraz might not be able to earn forgiveness in time.
And yes, sparing Miraz's life would mean that there would likely be some difficulties in convincing the Telmarines that the Narnians would not hurt them and that they were people too. But in time, those prejudices could be overcome, and Peter knew that the Narnians and the Telmarines could integrate and live in peace. After all, Narnia was the seat of Aslan's grace. It had always been a bountiful land, and could be again. There would be plenty to go around for everyone.
It was right at that moment, as Caspian started to turn away from his uncle, that the last vestiges of energy that he had gained from awakening Narnia's Sword faded, and all the wounds and bruises he had sustained in the duel began to make themselves known with a vengeance. He was going to be paying for this duel for days while his body recovered from the punishment he had endured.
But there was something that he had to do. Normally, he would have done this in private, but for now, he had to at least acknowledge what had been given to him.
He rested one hand on one of the stone pillars next to him and sent a wordless feeling of love and thanks out. It was good Narnian stone, these ruins, and still bound to his kingdom. After all, it had been Narnia that had saved his life just now, and he knew that the stone would respond to his touch.
Edmund had always believed that it was Aslan's power, working through Peter that made him Narnia's Sword, especially after the way Peter had described it as being a vessel for a greater power.
But Peter knew differently.
"Aslan," Peter said as the great Lion approached him from where he'd been walking with some of the other Narnians as they journeyed from Beruna to Cair Paravel, where Peter and his siblings would be crowned Kings and Queens, "I don't think I can do this."
Now that the battle with the Witch was over, Peter was having serious doubts about his ability to lead these people, despite the oath he had sworn the night before. He was just a kid, after all!
"Peter, I know you can." Aslan's voice was supremely calm as he stepped out of the line of marching, singing Narnians, heading for a small rise at the side of the trail. Without being told, Peter followed him, and together they ascended to the rise and looked down at the Narnians, who cheered to see their High King and the Great Lion standing together. "You led the Narnians yesterday, and you have the power and skill within you to be a great leader. My children are just like you and your siblings – they have the same emotions, cares, and worries as you, no matter what their outward form may be."
Peter still wasn't as sure, and the closer they drew to Cair Paravel, the more uncertain he became. It was one thing to swear an oath and believe he could do it the night before, when he was still excited and jubilant from winning the battle. It was another thing to realize that the Narnians' lives were quite literally going to be in the hands of him and his siblings. They would depend on the four of them for their every need – and Peter had never taken a class at school in how to be a King.
Aslan seemed to sense his conflict, despite Peter not being able to put his feelings into words. "Peter, the Deep Magic called you and your siblings here, because you are the ones Narnia has been waiting for. No one comes to Narnia without a purpose." The Great Lion extended his claws and with one swipe, dug a furrow in the ground. Then, he slowly shifted his weight and backed up a few steps.
Peter looked at him, uncertain as to what he was doing. Aslan fixed him with a patient look. "Peter, touch the earth."
Uncertain, but willing to listen, Peter knelt on the ground and reached out to touch the torn-up earth. As he did, he wondered if – given how he had seen that trees and bushes and water all had spirits associated with them – the earth had felt Aslan's claws digging into it. Had it felt pain? Was there a true earth spirit like the beautiful ones that he had seen around the camp and moving among the Narnians now?
Suddenly, he felt a tingling in his fingertips, and a strange, sick sensation came over him – not like he was going to throw up, but more as if his stomach was cramping and roiling at the same time.
"Do you see, Peter?" Aslan asked. "When I sang Narnia into being, she became one of my children as much as the Centaurs, Fauns, and Talking Beasts are. In her own way, she has her own soul. As a result, Narnia recognizes you, her High King. She knows your touch, and will always respond to it, for you will have authority over all Kings and Queens of Narnia – past, present, and future. It is from you that she will gain her strength, for you will be her constant. But when you are in need, she will return that strength to you ten-fold."
Peter marveled at that idea. It was so foreign, and yet, it felt so right. But then he caught Aslan's words. "But not to Edmund, Susan, or Lucy?"
"To a lesser extent, yes. In time, perhaps, they too may be able to draw on Narnia's strength at their greatest need. The oath you swore last night has linked you to this land. If your siblings, in their own time, freely do the same, Narnia's link to them will be strengthened as well, and she will be able to give more of her strength back to them as well – but it will always come back to you."
Peter still wasn't sure he understood. How could a pledge of loyalty and fealty to Aslan link him to the land or – soul? – of an entire country? Was Narnia really self-aware enough to know when he would be in need and literally be able to give herself back to him? He started to rise, but the sick feeling strengthened and he paused. Then, slowly and with a careful hand, he filled in the torn up earth, smoothing it out and gently patting it down until it was whole again.
A pleased rumble came from Aslan as he watched Peter's action. "You will do well, High King." The great golden eyes were bright. "Yes. You will do very well."
In a way, Edmund was right, that Aslan's power was what allowed him to become Narnia's Sword, but it was through the life and soul that he had sung into the land at the very beginning. It was Narnia herself that shared her strength with him, that acted through Peter. It had begun the night he had sworn the oath at Beruna, and just as the bond with his country had formed from that oath, so too had Narnia's Sword come to be.
But since – at least to his knowledge – his siblings had never sworn an oath to Narnia like the one he had, he had never told them the truth about where that power came from. Aslan had said that it was an oath that had to be sincerely and freely sworn, and Peter had not wanted his oath to pressure his siblings into believing that they needed to swear a similar oath. Besides, it was also a very personal and private thing – if they had sworn such an oath, they may have chosen to keep it quiet, just as he had, and for the same reasons.
"Peter? Are you all right?" Edmund asked, apparently noticing the wince of pain that had crossed his face as his body made it's displeasure with him known.
"I'll be fine, Ed. I think I'm just bruised," Peter replied as Caspian reached them. "I don't need Lu's cordial, if that's what you're implying." He looked around. "Have Lucy and Aislynn –"
A muffled cry from the center of the ruins caught their attention, and they turned to see Miraz staggering a step before he toppled to the paved floor – one of Susan's red-fletched arrows buried in his side. There was a moment of stillness before he exhaled one last time and went limp. Peter turned sharply and looked up to where Susan was standing. Her bow was held loosely in her hand, but hung at her side. She looked down at them and shook her head – she hadn't fired.
The Lord who had come over as a Marshall stared at Miraz's body, and then looked up, wild-eyed at the Narnians. "Treachery! They shot him!" He seized Miraz's sword from where Caspian had left it stuck in the earth and ran for his horse. "They murdered our King!"
Peter whipped around and pointed at Susan. "Treachery! Be ready!"
Caspian ran for his horse and flung himself into the saddle in front of Krisalyn. He steadied the horse, ready to send it into the How to lead the charge as Krisalyn wrapped her hands around his waist for balance.
"Peter!" Krisalyn screamed.
Peter spun around again to see a large Telmarine – the third Marshal – bearing down on him and Edmund with sword drawn. Without hesitating, Peter charged forward, countered the man's attack, and with a single swipe of Rhindon, parted the man's head from his body. It was clean and quick – but it proved that he not only could, he would take a life if necessary.
Edmund joined him as he reached the Telmarine side of the ruins. Together they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out at their enemies – at Narnia's enemies. "Peter."
"I'm fine, Ed," Peter looked over at his brother. He had a serious question to ask his brother, although he suspected that he already knew what the answer would be. "Will the High King's Shield stand beside Narnia's Sword today?" It was a question he had asked every time they had gone to battle together after the first time he had become Narnia's Sword.
Edmund smiled at the familiar words. "As ever and always, without a doubt, my King."
The catapults on the enemy line began to swing; a moment later large boulders began to thud into the ground around them, spraying them with dirt. But Peter held his ground, and Edmund stood beside him. His brother would never leave him to stand alone as long as there was breath in his body, and Peter drew comfort from that. He could rely on Edmund, and he knew Edmund could rely on him.
Sword and Shield. Narnia's defense and the High King's protector. Together, in Aslan's name, there was nothing they could not do.
Watching Peter fight took her breath away. The grace of his movements, the intensity of the fight – they were nothing compared to the lethal aura that her husband exuded.
In the nine years that they had been together, she had seen Peter irritated before, she had seen him angry, and she had seen him completely lose his temper. In most cases, Edmund had been there to steady him and balance out his rages on the rare occasions when they completely broke free. But even when he was most angry, she had never seen him with such a dangerously lethal aura as the one that was around him as he fought for Narnia.
The most frightening part, though, was his utter calmness. The power of that aura was such a stark contrast to the serenity on his face. Someone with that much power should not be so calm.
She couldn't help but wonder if it had been her words and her support of him that had caused this. Surely, if he had been capable of unleashing this raw force – she'd heard Edmund refer to it as Narnia's Sword – he would have done it sooner and ended the fight before he had taken such a beating from Miraz, wouldn't he?
She reached up a hand to caress his sweaty, bruised, and bleeding cheek. He started to pull away, but she wouldn't let him.
"Kris…stop. You'll get your dress bloody," Peter said softly.
She frowned at the sight of the blood, and without hesitating, caught up the edge of her sleeve and gently used it to wipe the blood off of his face. "I could care less about my dress, Peter. I'm going to be working with the healers…I'll guarantee you that I'll be covered in blood by the end of the battle."
"You need to go back to them, Kris. This is no place for you," Peter said softly.
"Peter, I am no stranger to a battlefield," she chided him gently. "I was in training to be the Queen of Archenland at one time. Had I actually become their Queen, who do you think would have been leading the army against their enemies?"
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but then paused. Apparently, the thought had never occurred to him, since he had never known Archenland to have a ruling Queen before. He'd only known Lune, and now Cor as their ally's monarch.
"Peter, I didn't come out here to fight in the battle, nor to fight with you," Krisalyn continued. "I came out here because –" she paused, uncertain how to say what needed to be said.
"Because?" Peter prompted her, glancing over his shoulder at the ruins.
Krisalyn bit her lip before she answered. "I wanted you to know that I was going to be standing behind you in this, that I support your decision and…I trust you. It – what happened to us, to Narnia – it wasn't your fault, and I'm sorry that it took me so long to admit that. I promised Aslan that I would always support and remain true to you, no matter what trials or blessings we went through. I had no right to believe that you had abandoned us, when you swore you never would. I should have realized that there was something more to your disappearance, but I allowed my anger and bitterness to come between us." She hesitated again, before she continued. "I guess what I am trying to say Peter is that I love you, and I forgive you…and I trust you to come back to me, no matter how far away you may travel, or how long you may be gone."
He had gone back into the fight with renewed vigor and grace after that, and now she was witnessing…this.
To her relief, Peter triumphed over Miraz. She was about to dismount and go over to him to hug him and congratulate him when chaos broke out. One moment Miraz – whose life had been spared by Caspian – was on his feet with assistance from one of his Marshals, the next he was lying on the ground with one of Susan's arrows buried in his side. Then the Telmarines were racing back to their lines – all except one, who picked up a sword and moved towards Peter while her husband was giving orders to the Narnians.
"Peter!" she screamed. Her husband spun around, raced up to the Telmarine who had so foolishly challenged him, and mercilessly struck him down. Then Caspian was running towards her. Remembering her promise to Peter, she stayed seated on the horse, although she slid back in order to give Caspian room to mount in front of her. Oreius whirled and moved to her side, one of his massive swords unsheathed in his hand.
Caspian reached the horse and flung himself into the saddle, although his foot caught in her skirt and tore it. But that was incidental as she watched Peter and Edmund take up positions at the far side of the ruins, defiantly facing the Telmarines.
"Oreius…" Krisalyn breathed, her heart in her throat.
"All will be well, my Queen. King Peter and King Edmund will not fall." The Centaur's voice was calm and reassuring.
From the Telmarine lines, the catapults began to swing, and a moment later huge boulders began to smash into the earth around the ruins, kicking up dirt and tufts of grass with each impact. Yet Peter and Edmund stood strong and showed no signs of fear as they waited.
Corin…stop those catapults…please…
The ground shuddered with each impact, but none of the boulders fell close enough to Peter and Edmund to put them in immediate danger. What had happened? Why hadn't her cousin disabled those catapults?
Her heart was already in her throat, but when she saw the Telmarine cavalry beginning their charge across the field, it leaped into her mouth. She tensed, waiting for Peter to begin the counter-attack, but she didn't know exactly what he was waiting for. The army needed time to respond to his orders.
Peter…don't wait too long. Give them time to react, please.
Behind the Telmarine lines…
Corin fought the urge to curse as the order came down the lines to begin barraging the How with the catapults. It was too soon! His men hadn't had time to make their move, and he didn't have enough men with him to make a full attack against the siege engines.
The plan to replace eight of the Telmarines with their own men in order to get the Mice close enough to sabotage the catapults had actually started to go off without a hitch. Eight of the Telmarines had fallen to swift, silent arrows or dagger strikes – clean and quick. Eight of Corin's men, with the Mice clinging to their backs, underneath the armor had taken their places, very casually. But before the Mice could slip out to work their sabotage, the order had come – and all his men could do was obey unless they wanted to raise suspicions.
"What shall we do, Highness?" Peepiceek asked in his high-pitched voice.
"We wait. They'll have to stop the bombardment before their cavalry gets in range, or they risk hitting their own men."
"Yes, sir," the Mouse said unhappily.
But it was hard, watching his men – helpless to stop the bombardment, short of ordering an attack – firing on their allies. All he could do was wait and pray that something would happen to allow them to take those siege engines out. The last thing that he had wanted to do was to have his men attacking the Narnians – the very people they were here to aid.
"Your Highness! A message from Queen Susan and King Cor!" One of the men raced up, leading Pattertwig the Squirrel to where Cor and Peepiceek stood. The Squirrel was clutching a rolled up scroll in one paw, and he offered it to Corin with a bow.
Corin took the scroll and unrolled it, scanning the contents quickly. His frown deepened as he read the missive. He scanned the Telmarines as he looked up from the notice. The only way King Edmund could have known about this Lord Sopespian was if he had been one of the men who had been acting as Miraz's Marshals. He had seen two men fleeing back to the lines, but he hadn't gotten a good look at them because he'd been trying to get his eight men into place.
Where were those two men? One of them had to be Lord Sopespian.
Corin quickly came to the conclusion that – if Lord Sopespian was still somewhere along the lines – he wouldn't be able to find him from his vantage point. He crumpled the missive in his hand. There were too many men between him and the front of the lines. He looked back at Pattertwig. "Take word back to Queen Susan. I'll see to taking care of Lord Sopespian. I believe he is here, among the commanders."
Pattertwig nodded. "Yes, sir. Yes, right away!" With that, the Squirrel turned and scampered back up into the trees, heading in the direction of the How by moving along the edge of the meadow.
Peter watched the Telmarine cavalry as they raced down the field. He had to wait until they reached the right spot, or else the trap would be sprung too early. There was a large rock on the field that had been marked as the indicator point. The markings were only visible from the Narnian side of the field. They'd run tests – as much as they could without actually springing the trap – to perfect the timing, and when the lead Telmarine reached that boulder, Peter would give the order.
Wait…wait…
He glanced over at Edmund. He really did need to speak to his brother about his loyalty and steadiness. Ever since Beruna, his brother had always stood beside him, defending him, steadying him with the calm assurance he was known for. For that, the Narnians had referred to their Just King as the High King's Shield. Since Beruna, Edmund's loyalty had been unwavering. They would stand together today as they always had – and Aslan willing, they would triumph.
He looked back at the enemy and saw that they had just reached the rock. He turned sharply and gave the signal to Caspian and Oreius. They wheeled around immediately and headed back into the How. Peter looked back at their enemy, squinting against a cloud of dirt that was kicked up by a catapult shot that landed a bit too close for comfort.
"Peter?" Edmund had extracted Lucy's cordial from his belt and was holding the little bottle in his hand. "Will you please take this? I'm worried about your arm."
Peter hesitated. Lucy's cordial – a gift from Father Christmas – was rare and non-renewable. When it was gone, it was gone. Even though it only took a drop to cure wounds, every drop diminished it that much more. That was why, after the first battle of Beruna, Peter had requested that Lucy only use it on critical injuries. He had known his sister's large, caring heart would lead her to use it on any injured soldier that she could.
But he also couldn't deny the fact that his arm was very sore, and it would only get worse the longer the battle dragged on. He was lucky that he was able to use it at all at the moment. If it got much worse, he would have difficulty wielding his sword. He could already feel some stiffness setting in. "All right," he finally said with a nod, extending his hand for the bottle.
Edmund appeared surprised that he had agreed so readily, but he quickly uncapped the bottle and gave it to Peter, who carefully swallowed a single drop before he passed it back to Edmund. Almost immediately, he felt the stiffness in his shoulder and the aches along the rest of his body fade.
A horn call sounded beneath his feet, indicating that the army, led by Caspian and Oreius, had begun their charge and were about to make their move to spring the trap.
"One…two…three…"
Caspian saw the High King give the signal and immediately wheeled his horse and kicked it forward. He felt the High Queen wrap her arms around his waist as the stallion surged forward. Generals Oreius and Glenstorm were right behind him as they raced down the ramp.
"Be ready, Your Majesty!" Caspian cried, shifting the reins into his left hand and wrapping his right hand around the Queen's wrist. He felt her shift her grip to his wrist as well, just as they reached the end of the ramp and entered the main chamber.
"Now, Majesty!" Caspian yelled as he pulled his horse up to a slower speed before they crashed headlong into the waiting troops. His horse slowed, iron-shod hooves skidding on the smooth stone for a moment and almost sitting back on it's haunches. Caspian leaned back and braced himself in the saddle as the Queen swung her leg over the stallion's back and jumped, surrendering her weight to the strength of Caspian's arm.
He tightened his grip as his horse regained it's balance, and lowered the High Queen down to the stone. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she released her grip and he let go of her wrist. She landed and her knees bent to take the impact so that she wouldn't fall. He watched her just long enough to make sure that she hadn't been hurt by the maneuver before he turned his attention back to the troops that were waiting. He grabbed a torch off the wall and turned his horse in a tight circle. "Narnians, charge!" He kicked the stallion again and sent him through the side tunnel that would lead out into the main passage beneath the ruins.
With a cry, the waiting army turned and followed Caspian and the two Centaur Generals as they raced down the tunnel. Only the swiftest and strongest Narnians had been selected for this ambush, because they needed to be able to outrun the trap when it was sprung. Caspian signaled a Centaur running beside him as they reached the first marked pillar that indicated that they were directly beneath the ruins. The Centaur raised a horn to his lips and blew a trumpet call.
"One…two…three…four…five…"
"Six…seven…eight…nine…get ready!" Peter called.
Edmund shifted his weight and started to draw one of his swords from it's sheath, then noticed a crossbow that had been abandoned by the Telmarines, along with a horse that had either belonged to Miraz, or to the man Peter had killed a few moments ago. He released his sword and reached for the crossbow instead. For this ambush to work, speed and accuracy would be more important than holding the line, and he had an idea.
He glanced at his brother. The cordial had obviously helped, since Peter was standing straighter and he wasn't favoring his arm any longer. A determined look had settled on his face, and a steely look was in his blue eyes as the catapults eased up on their bombardment. The last thing the Telmarines would want would be to attack their own troops by mistake.
Edmund felt the ground rumble under his feet as the Narnians following Caspian began to spring the trap. Right now, they would be knocking out the most strategically placed pillars that supported the tunnels and cave system beneath the field. When enough of them were knocked down, the tunnels would cave in, neutralizing the enemy's charge.
He saw one of the Telmarine horses stumble on an uneven patch of ground, followed by another and another. It was working! He glanced back at Peter and saw him visibly cringe, just as screams from the Telmarines and shrieks from the horses heralded the collapse of the ground beneath them.
"Peter?" Edmund took a half-step closer. "What's wrong?" His brother shouldn't be in pain, not after taking Lucy's cordial.
Peter literally squeezed his eyes shut and panted for a moment, as if he was fighting back pain. "Damn," the High King breathed between clenched teeth.
"Peter?" Now Edmund was really worried and trying to fight back panic. His brother should not be hurting, unless he had been wounded somewhere else since he had taken the cordial…but how could that have happened without Edmund knowing about it?
"I'm all right," Peter managed, opening his eyes and straightening back up as his breathing suddenly calmed. Shifting his grip on Rhindon, he raised the blade as Caspian, Oreius, and Glenstorm – having split up – emerged from three carefully concealed ramps on the far side of the collapse, the rest of the Narnian ambush force following them as they swerved to flank the cavalry that had avoided the collapsing ground.
"Peter…"
"I promise, I'm all right, Ed," Peter tossed him a quick smile to reassure him. Then he raised Rhindon above his head and brought the blade down. "Charge!" He began to run for the edge of the crater that had opened, leading the rest of the Narnians towards their enemies.
Arrows whistled by overhead, falling to land among the crater and the riders that had fallen inside. Susan's archers were attacking calmly and methodically, while the disorganized and panicked cavalry did their best to avoid the unerringly accurate shots. Their confidence in their abilities had evaporated, and they were only a few steps shy of complete panic.
Edmund split off from Peter and ran towards the horse. With one smooth leap, he was in the saddle and had caught up the reins in his left hand. Kicking the horse sharply, he urged it forward, towards the crater, even as he used his right hand to arm the crossbow.
His mount was frightened and his strides were choppy. At that moment, Edmund missed Philip and his calm steadiness with a sharp intensity, but he thanked the Talking Horse – wherever he might be – profusely in his mind for teaching him how to ride. He quickly got the Telmarine horse under control, before he raised the crossbow and began picking out targets.
His world narrowed to an awareness of his mount, the Telmarines he was aiming at, and out of the corner of his eye, his brother. Peter was leading the battle, and Edmund needed to be watching for his commands. There was still a long way to go, provided that Aslan, Lucy, and Aislynn didn't return soon.
Cor raised his hand, signaling his men to hold their position. It was hard – they had come to fight, to aid their Narnian allies – but it wasn't time yet. The collapse of the tunnels had checked the cavalry, but the infantry was still vast, and could still come into play. That would be the moment that they would advance.
The catapults were firing with less regularity now, since the Telmarine commanders would not want to hit their own forces. He didn't know what had kept his twin from taking out the catapults, but he did know that Corin would not stop until he had found a way to come through for them.
His men shifted restlessly again, but held their position, waiting for his signal. They were disciplined and reliable, but they were used to meeting their opponents openly, not waiting in ambush. Cor knew they would do as they were commanded, no matter how hard or unusual their orders.
Cor shifted his position to watch the Telmarines, waiting for them to send their infantry in. It would have to come soon – the Narnian strategy had devastated the cavalry, while taking few losses themselves. The few riders that had escaped the collapse were pinned on the far side of the crater by Queen Susan's archers, while Caspian's flanking attack kept them from retreating back to their own lines.
Give the order…he thought fiercely at the Telmarines' commander. Send them in!
Elsewhere…
Aislynn looked around in delight as the forest continued to come to life from the sound of Aslan's roar. All around them, the dryads and other spirits were awakening. It was beautiful and magical as they raced along, falling in with Aslan as he carried them swiftly to a destination that only he knew.
"Why did all of the dryads go to sleep?" Aislynn asked over the sound of their singing and calls of welcome. That was something that she had not understood.
"Fear," Aslan's deep voice rumbled in response. "They sought only to protect themselves from the Telmarines."
"But they play an important role in Narnia's survival," Lucy added. "It is due to them and their care for all living things that allows Narnia to be so bountiful. Once things are settled and they resume their tasks, you won't believe how beautiful Narnia will become."
Aislynn already thought that Narnia was beautiful – how could the awakened dryads make her any more so? She couldn't imagine it. She just wished that she could see the woods with both eyes. The right side of her face was swollen and aching, and her eye had swelled shut, but she wasn't going to complain. After all, her face would heal, and the important thing was that she was alive.
Aslan continued to race through the trees until they came to the Great River at Beruna. The Telmarine camp on the far side of the River was quiet, now that the bridge had been completed. Aslan ran across the bridge before he stopped along the river bank. Without being told, Lucy and Aislynn slid off his back. A low, rumbling growl came from the Lion's throat as he lowered his head towards the water. The water began vibrating madly as the air rushed over it from the force of that growl.
Aislynn looked over at her aunt. "What's he doing?" she whispered.
Lucy only shook her head. "One never knows with Aslan," the Valiant Queen replied.
Aislynn turned back in time to see a watery head emerge from the gently flowing river. "Hail, Lord," the river-god spoke in a surprisingly deep voice. "I would rise to greet you properly, but that bridge chains me down."
"Before the day ends, your chains shall be loosed loyal son," Aslan assured him. "We shall need your aid to retake Narnia."
"I am ever yours to command, Great Aslan," the river-god replied solemnly.
Aslan shook his head and his golden mane bounced around his face before he turned towards them. "You two shall also have a task to end this war."
"What must we do, Aslan," Lucy asked, trustingly.
"You will know when the time comes, dear one," Aslan replied with a small smile.
Aislynn looked around as best she could with only one good eye and paused. "Where did all of the dryads go?"
"To the aid of the High King and his allies," Aslan responded. "They know what they must do, just as you shall know when it is time for you to act."
Aslan's How…
The ambush and the archers had done a magnificent job checking the cavalry and devastating them before they could bring their full force against the Narnians, but there were still a few riders attacking the Narnians, and a few who had survived the collapse. Caspian freed his left foot from the stirrup and kicked out, catching a Telmarine rider across the face before the man could pull him out of the saddle and claim his horse. The man reeled back, hands instinctively reaching for his broken nose, and Caspian followed up on the kick with his sword, eliminating another enemy.
Later, when this battle was over, he knew he'd be appalled by the number of his own countrymen that he'd killed, but now was not the time to think about it.
They made the choice to fight, he told himself. They could have chosen to lay down their arms when King Peter defeated Miraz, but they didn't. That makes them our enemies. If I don't fight and kill, they won't hesitate to kill us.
A boulder thudded into the ground near him and his horse shied. Caspian turned the stallion in a tight circle to bring him back under control before he looked toward the How. He spotted Roran standing on the crown of the hill, wings spread and waving in the breeze. He raised his sword and gestured with it, and heard a gryphonic scream in response before Roran leapt into the sky.
Moments later, dozens of gryphons filled the sky, heading towards the Telmarine lines with their burdens of archers or boulders. The catapults continued to aim at the gryphons, but the rocks were too slow and the skilled flyers dodged them easily. Caspian looked towards the Telmarine lines and saw they were readying the ballistae. He knew how dangerous those spear-throwers were, and he prayed that Prince Corin had been able to do something to disable them.
But nothing happened. Caspian swung his sword down and took out another enemy before he looked back at the lines. The Telmarines were milling around and the spears sticking out at odd angles, jammed inside the launchers. Something had gone wrong – and it left and opening for the gryphons carrying rocks to take out the catapults.
The Narnians roared as they saw two of the catapults destroyed under rocks thrown by the gryphons. Caspian smiled grimly. If they could keep this up, they might have a chance of winning this war, despite their smaller numbers,
His confidence evaporated as he saw the infantry begin to march.
It wasn't working. Their plan to take out the siege engines had only been partially successful, although with the ballistae out of the picture, the gryphons had a clear line of fire to take out the catapults with their rocky weapons. The gryphons were agile enough to dodge arrows and boulders all day long.
But Corin and his men couldn't do any good back among the Telmarine lines anymore. With the infantry moving forward, it was time for a strategic retreat.
Corin turned to his captain. "Sound the retreat. We'll fall back and rejoin my brother and his men. The Telmarines won't have time to react to realizing that we're here before we're gone."
"Sire, what about King Edmund's message?" the captain asked. "The Lord Sopespian?"
Corin clenched his teeth at the reminder. He knew the man had to be out there somewhere, most likely among the commanders, but there were still too many men for them to make an attack from the rear right now. "We cannot do anything about him. We'll have to rejoin my brother and hope someone else takes him out, or that he is arrested and brought to trial later, once the battle is over. Sound the retreat."
"Yes, Your Highness," the captain replied. Raising his horn to his lips, he blew the quick series of notes that would tell their men to fall back and circle around, including the eight men and Mice who were stationed near the catapults.
As soon as the notes left the horn, the eight infiltrators broke away from their posts and sprinted towards the tree line. Startled and confused, the Telmarines couldn't react in time to stop them and they made it safely into the trees where they grabbed their waiting horses and joined the rest of Corin's men in their mad dash through the trees back to Cor's forces.
Right slash, left slash, duck, pivot, kick…
Peter was moving completely by instinct and a supreme awareness of himself, his sword, and his surroundings as he cut a swathe through the Telmarines who were beginning to scramble out of the collapsed ground. Lucy's cordial had healed his wounds, but it hadn't restored his energy. The only way he was able to function was by not thinking, just acting. If he allowed himself to feel the exhaustion, it would paralyze him.
Upper block, twist, stab, leap…he quickly raised his armored gauntlet to catch a sword coming down at his head, missing the protection of his shield. High block, low block, slash left, stab, duck…
An eagle's scream from overhead made him look up to see the gryphons sailing by with their rocks and archers. He followed them with his eyes as they soared toward the enemy lines. A few arrows and boulders headed their way, but the gryphons avoided those weapons with ease as they launched their attack, taking out two of the Telmarine catapults and a host of Telmarine soldiers.
As the gryphons carrying the Dwarf archers continued to circle and harass the enemy, those who ha carried rocks banked elegantly and came back to pick up another load for a second attack run. Thanks to the preparations that Lucy had made before leaving to go find Aslan, a small horde of boulders had been stockpiled for the gryphons to use in the attack, and several of the younger Narnians had been positioned at the top of the How with extra quivers of arrows for the archers to reload when they ran out.
Peter turned his attention back to his own battles. He saw Trufflehunter lunge at a Telmarine that was starting to clamber out of the collapse, before he pivoted sharply and sliced another Telmarine across the chest.
"Your Majesty! Duck!"
Peter turned and ducked as a blade narrowly missed his head. Before he could straighten, he felt something impact his shoulders and use them as a springboard. A moment later, the Telmarine was down, bleeding from a wound in his throat caused by a Mouse-sized rapier.
Reepicheep sprang off the dead Telmarine, and ran up to the edge of the collapse after another Telmarine. The Telmarines took one look at Reepicheep and stammered, "You're a – a Mouse!"
"You people have no imagination!" Reepicheep declared before finishing him off. Then he was off again.
"Reepicheep, come back you little ass!" Peter cried as he countered another attack. "You'll only get yourself killed!"
A horn sounded from the direction of the Telmarine lines, and Peter quickly dispatched his enemy before turning to look at the Telmarine infantry approaching. They held tight formation as they began their advance. He looked around at the battles raging around him. Caspian was nearby, still mounted on his horse. Edmund was on the opposite side of the crater, also mounted, circling the edge of the collapse and using a crossbow to shoot at any Telmarine that managed to reach the edge. Oreius and Glenstorm were fighting side by side about fifty paces away, and as he watched they wheeled, perfectly synchronized and ready to charge another group of Telmarines that were trying to regroup.
But the infantry was moving in, which meant it was time to set up Cor's flanking ambush. Peter smiled grimly. The Telmarines were playing right into their plans, first by sending in the cavalry, and now by advancing all of their infantry at once, instead of in waves. He didn't know who was commanding them, but whoever it was, was not thinking strategically. From what Caspian had told him of General Glozelle, Peter would have expected a more detailed and complex plan from him. But this was simply straight on attacking – which probably meant that someone else was leading the battle, someone with no military experience. Peter, on the other hand, had led plenty of battles and knew that there were multiple ways to win rather than relying solely on strength of numbers.
Raising his sword, Peter gave the signal. "Back to the How!"
The Narnians had been waiting for his command, and they played their parts perfectly. Feigning fear at the sight of the superior force marching towards them, they turned and fled, racing back to the How. Caspian and Edmund turned their mounts and ran towards the Narnians who were still fighting to help them break away. Oreius and Glenstorm ran through the retreating Narnians, coming up to flank Peter as he brought up the rear.
Please be ready Cor…
There was a shattering crash from behind him and a sharp stab of pain went through him just as a piece of the ruins flew past them and slammed into the stone framework of the entrance to the How. The doorway began to collapse, just as a Faun and a Minotaur were dragging some wounded Narnians through to the healers. Peter watched in horror as the stone fell directly on top of them, crushing them beneath its weight.
Fear raced through him for a moment. Kris! She was trapped inside the How. It was an instinctive response and he fought it down as Edmund and Caspian joined him. She wasn't trapped. There were plenty of secret exits out of the How, and as long as the Telmarines didn't learn about them, she was actually safer inside the How.
He wished he could do something for the Narnians trapped beneath the debris, but not even Lucy's cordial could save them from the weight of thousands of pounds of stone. After this was over, they would be dug out and given a proper burial, and they would be honored at the memorial vigil of course, but for now there was nothing they could do. Now he had to make sure that their lives had not been given in vain.
A cracking noise from above drew his gaze upward in time to see the archers' ledge crumbling with the weight no longer supported by the stone doorway. The archers were scrambling backward, away from the edge of the upper level.
"Brace yourselves!" Susan was yelling as a tree behind her began to fall, its roots torn free of the collapsing stone. A moment later, she screamed as the stone beneath her feet gave way and she fell.
"Susan!" Edmund's voice mingled with Peter's as they both screamed their sister's name. Peter had a sudden flash of seeing his sister's crumpled form lying on the rocks below her and he watched, horrified, as she fell.
But Trumpkin suddenly lunged and caught Susan's wrist, holding her long enough to swing her over to where the rubble from the doorway formed a ramp to the ground before he released her. She only fell two feet before she touched the makeshift ramp and steadied herself. She looked back at Trumpkin and waved before she turned and began climbing down to the ground.
Peter looked around them. Edmund stood on his right, Caspian on his left. Both of them had their swords out. Glenstorm, Oreius, and the rest of the Narnians flanked the three of them, before Susan pushed her way forward and came to stand beside them. In front of them, the Telmarine army marched forward in perfect unison.
"I think they expect us to be intimidated, Peter," Edmund said wryly, a small smile on his face.
"Are you?" Peter asked, a smile quirking the corner of his lips.
Edmund tipped his head to the side, considering. "Not really, no. You?"
"Not a chance," Peter replied. "Caspian, what about you?"
"Nope."
"Susan?"
The Gentle Queen shook her head. "No." She looked at her brothers. "Cor is waiting for the signal."
Peter nodded. "I know." He looked around at everyone again. "Shall we show them that we do not fear them?"
Oreius stomped one hoof. The General was bleeding from a gash on his flank, and one on his shoulder, but he was still full of fire and energy. "We are with you, my King. To the death."
Glenstorm nodded in agreement. He also had a gash on his arm and one on his cheek. "To the death."
"Peter, let's show them why Narnia's Sword and Shield never yield," Edmund said with a feral grin.
"Agreed." Peter raised his sword and lowered it, before he began running towards the oncoming infantry. They were almost in range for the ambush from Cor's men – but they had to make it look as if they were making their last, desperate stand to lure them in. Without hesitation, the rest of the Narnians fell in behind him as they charged.
Peter kicked off a piece of debris and used his momentum to kick a soldier in the chest, before he brought his sword down and ended the man's life. Next to him, Edmund was slashing about with both of his short swords, and Caspian was protecting Susan to give her time to employ her bow. His sister was making keen use of her weapon, firing arrows as she ran.
But the Telmarines were pressing in – and there were so many that it was all they could do to keep from being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.
Upper slash, block, twist, cut. Duck, lower cut, stab, spin. Left slice, right slash, reverse and thrust.
One motion blurred into the next as Peter fought to get to the higher ground and give the signal to Cor. Overhead, the gryphons were wheeling, still carrying the archers who were now having to pick their shots more carefully, since the Narnians were more mingled in with the Telmarine forces.
Finally, he reached a bit of the crumbled ruins and leaped on top. Raising his sword in the air, he cried out. "For Narnia and for Aslan!"
The Narnians roared and redoubled their efforts, even as a trumpet blast sounded from the woods – the rallying cry of the Archenland army. From among the trees, Cor led his forces to their aid, moving to flank the Telmarine infantry. His two hundred cavalry raced out, looping around behind the Telmarines and cutting off their retreat, while the Archenland infantry – sapphire and silver banners flying – moved in from the side to plow a course straight through the Telmarine formations.
Complete panic ensued. The Telmarines had not been expecting a second ambush from their rear, and they had no idea what they should do. Some of them turned to fight Cor's army, leaving them vulnerable to the Narnians, while others continued to move after Peter and his small band in the center of the field, leaving them open to attack from the cavalry that was cutting through them.
"For Aslan!" Peter roared again. A Faun nearby grabbed his horn and winded it. The Narnian's battle fanfare echoed and the Narnians responded immediately, tightening their own formations and moving towards the enemy troops that were now caught between a rock and a hard place.
Peter leaped off the rocks and moved back in to join them. He spotted Edmund and fought his way to his brother's side.
"Side to side, Peter?" Edmund asked as he reached him.
"And back to back," Peter confirmed. "Just as Oreius taught us." He jumped over a sword aimed at his legs, pushing Edmund out of the blade's path with his shoulder.
"Duck!" Edmund called, swiping his sword in a circle over both their heads as Peter dropped obediently, and separating another man's head from his body.
Peter straightened, turned, and moved to defend his brother's left, as Edmund advanced on a huddle of Telmarines who were trying to form a phalanx with their shields. But there weren't enough of them to block the whirling silver blades of the High King's Shield, and they fell like so many of the others who had dared to stand against the Just and Magnificent Kings in battle.
But even as he defended Edmund, Peter couldn't help but wonder where Lucy and Aislynn were. They had been gone far too long.
Aslan, please…protect my family. Don't let anything happen to them. We fight in your name, and we need you, Great Lion. Help us.
Caspian had been separated from Queen Susan in the fight. Apparently, whoever was commanding the Telmarines had instructed them to make sure he died, since he had noticed that more and more of them were coming after him. Queen Susan had managed to clear a wide circle around herself with her bow, and she had several of the Dwarves guarding her beyond the perimeter she'd established for herself, giving her even more time to employ her deadly accuracy with her chosen weapon.
Out of the corner of his eye, Caspian spotted Trumpkin being assailed by two Telmarines. One of them bashed the Dwarf across the face with the flat of his blade and Trumpkin went down. The Telmarine stood over him, ready to end the Dwarf's life.
No! Caspian was not going to watch one of his few friends go down. Grabbing for his dagger, he ripped it out of the sheath, tossed it into the air and caught it by the tip, then side-armed it straight into the neck of Trumpkin's attacker. As the man went down, Trumpkin scrambled to his feet. But Caspian had to turn his attention immediately back to his own battles as two of the men ganged up on him. They were careful to stay on opposite sides of him – if he turned to face one, the other would attack from his blind side. Together, they forced him back to the edge of the collapsed earth, before they struck.
He tried to dodge, but tripped on a bit of crumbling ground and felt his center of balance shift backward. He couldn't stop his fall as he went heels over head backward into the crater and landed hard on his back. His sword flew out of his hand and he scrambled backward as a Minotaur nearly stepped on him as it chased a Telmarine down.
A few feet away, a Telmarine ripped a long spear out of the body of one of the Narnians and turned towards Caspian. Caspian scrambled backwards further, looking frantically for his sword. The hilt was only a foot away from his right hand, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of his new attacker – whom he recognized as Glozelle.
The General was about to bury the spear in his chest when he suddenly realized who he was facing – and miraculously, the spear paused before it embedded itself.
"General?" Caspian ventured, cautiously. "You're not going to kill me, are you?" He was barely breathing, trying not to provoke the man.
"Caspian?" Glozelle asked. Blood was running down his face from a cut above his left eye. He blinked, but didn't lower the weapon.
"General, please, stop this," Caspian said quietly. "All of this…everything that has happened, is because of the greed of two men. But we can stop it – together, we can bring peace back to Narnia and her people.
"I must serve my people – I must do what is right for them," Glozelle replied. "I served the wrong ruler all of these years, but now I must do my best for them."
"Then help me," Caspian pleaded. "Call off your men; help me save their lives. The Narnians are not the beasts that we've always believed. They are people, like you and I, just with different forms, and they are honorable and wise, as are their Kings and Queens."
Slowly, Glozelle began to lower the spear, and Caspian pressed his advantage. "You were my teacher, General. I know you are an honorable man. Whatever hold my uncle had over you has ended with his death. I do not blame you for your actions. The army will listen to you. Help me call them off."
The spear tip lowered further, but before Glozelle could put it all the way down, a great root burst through the ground behind him, wrapped itself around the General's waist, and yanked him off his feet. The spear fell to the ground as the General was slammed back into the rock behind him and went limp, before the root dropped him to land on the ground.
Startled, Caspian looked up to see a great tree moving across the field. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his sword, and hurried over to his former teacher, checking to make sure he wasn't badly hurt.
Fortunately, the General had simply been knocked unconscious. Letting out a slow breath of relief, Caspian quickly disarmed the man and dragged him into shelter, where he would be out of sight and safe until all of the wounded and dead were removed from the battlefield.
Then he climbed up the slope and met King Peter's shining blue eyes. The High King offered him a hand up and Caspian accepted it. As he stepped out onto level ground, he looked around in awe at the sight of the massive trees that were wading across the battlefield, their roots and branches seizing the panicked Telmarines and slamming them to the ground or tossing them aside.
Alongside, were what appeared to be bunches of leaves and flower petals blowing in the wind. They enveloped the Telmarines and prevented them from seeing where they were going, which usually caused them to trip and fall. Caspian had never seen anything like it.
"What in the…"
"Lucy. Somehow, she and Aislynn found Aslan and awakened the Dryads," Peter said with a smile. "Now, they're fighting back."
"Well, then we should go and help them, should we not?" Caspian asked, returning the smile, even though he couldn't take his eyes away from the trees and the Dryads."
"Yes, we should," Peter agreed. "Narnia! To me!" he yelled, raising his voice above the screams of the Telmarines.
The Narnians rallied at the cry, reforming their lines and chasing the Telmarines back across the field. Cor's men moved to herd them, funneling them straight back across the field and preventing them from breaking off to reform the line and run a flanking maneuver of their own.
Meanwhile, the Trees were taking care of the rest of the catapults, their great roots swimming through the earth to emerge, wrap around the catapults, and bring them crashing to the ground. The Telmarines were terrified of the trees and were in full retreat, with Peter's army hot on their heels.
Edmund fell into stride beside his brother, his twin swords out as he ran. "They're heading for Beruna! If they make it across the Ford, they'll reclaim the advantage. They'll be able to turn and pick us off while we try to cross!"
"Then we'll have to catch them before they get there!" Peter yelled back. "Narnia! For Aslan! Centaurs, Cats, and Wolves! Chase them down! Do not let them reach the river!"
Cries of acknowledgement answered him and the fastest runners of the Narnian army sprinted ahead, trying to reach the lead Telmarines before they could make it to the riverbanks.
"Cor! Take your cavalry and cut them off!" Peter cried as the Archenland King galloped up behind him on his chestnut warhorse.
"As good as done, High King!" Cor replied. With a cry, he gathered his riders and spurred his horse ahead, following the fleet-footed Narnians.
As they ran, they cut down many of the Telmarines, who were finished off by the foot soldiers running behind them, but Peter realized that despite their speed, the Narnians and their allies were not going to make it. The Telmarines had too great a head start and if the Narnians tried to get ahead of them, they would be trapped with their backs to the river and no escape.
"Fall back!" Peter called. "Narnia, reform the lines!" He waved at one of the gryphons circling overhead. "Roron, fly ahead, tell Cor and the others to back off, but remain in pursuit!"
A scream of acknowledgement came from Roron before the gryphon's wings clawed at the air for height and he shot forward into the sky, weaving among the trees.
"Peter, we can't beat them if they make it across the bridge first. They'll have the advantage when we try to cross!" Susan called, one hand holding her bow, the other hand holding up her skirt so she could run.
"Lucy awakened the Dryads," Peter called back around his harsh breathing. "Maybe she got to the Naiads too! They'll be able to prevent the Telmarines from crossing!"
Lucy heard horns coming from the trees across the river. She looked up at Aslan, who also seemed to have heard the sound. "Is that them, Aslan?"
The great Lion nodded. "Yes, dearest. It is almost time for you and Aislynn to end this war."
Lucy stood up from the rocky shoreline and helped Aislynn to her feet. The princess' face was still badly swollen and she could still only see out of one eye, but that eye held a fire and determination in it that reminded Lucy sharply of Peter when he was determined to give no quarter. If nothing else, Aislynn certainly was her father's daughter, and Lucy knew she would make a great Queen of Narnia when her time to claim the throne came.
As the first of the Telmarines broke through the trees, Aslan looked at Lucy. "Now, Valiant Queen."
Lucy nodded and stepped up to the bridge. Aslan had not given them any instructions about what they were to do, but that didn't matter. She trusted him to guide her in what was needed. Aislynn was right beside her as they walked in step up to the bridge and on, where they stopped, the two of them barring the way.
The Telmarines came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two of them blocking the way. They milled about as the Narnians broke through the lines, and Lucy was relieved to see both of her brothers and Susan at the front of the lines with Caspian, Glenstorm, and Oreius.
"He's all right," Aislynn whispered, looking at her father.
"It would take more than this to stop Peter," Lucy assured her. Then she faced the Telmarines again and took another step forward, drawing her dagger. "Men of Telmar! I am Queen Lucy of Narnia. I order you to lower your weapons and surrender to the Narnian forces!" She used all of the speaking skills that she had learned from her oration tutor all those years ago, and her voice carried easily across the river. "In the name of Aslan, drop your weapons!"
"Lucy…" Susan breathed. "What are you doing?"
Peter felt the same as he caught sight of his daughter and his little sister standing on the far side of the bridge, alone, armed only with their daggers. There was no way the Telmarines would surrender to the two of them – especially now that Lucy had identified herself, they would know that she was a valuable hostage.
He tightened his grip on Rhindon, fighting down the urge to slash his way through the Telmarines and race to his daughter's side. He was not going to lose her now!
"Men of Telmar! This is your last warning!" Lucy's clear, sweet voice was firm. "Throw down your weapons and your lives will be spared!"
Lord Sopespian was mounted on his horse at the front of the Telmarines, staring at Lucy and Aislynn. He turned in his saddle to look at the Narnians, and Peter saw his gaze alight on them. Then he turned back to look at Lucy – and Peter's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Aslan pace gravely up to stand between Lucy and Aislynn. Peter wanted to order Susan to shoot him, but he couldn't order her to outright assassinate the man when there was a chance he would surrender.
"Lucy, you did it!" Edmund whispered. "You are amazing!"
But it seemed that Lord Sopespian was not willing to give up on his bid to claim Narnia for himself – not when all that stood in his way were two young women and a single lion. Of course, he had no idea that by challenging the Lion, he was sealing his own doom. With a cry, he spurred his horse forward. "Take the Queen alive, but kill the others!"
Aislynn! No! Peter thought, preparing to step forward, only to feel Edmund seize him.
"It's all right, Peter! Aslan will protect them!"
Peter tensed, but didn't try to break Edmund's grip as he watched the Telmarine officers race down the bridge while some of the men began fording the river.
Before they were halfway across, Aslan suddenly roared, the sound shattering the air and bringing the Telmarines to a dead halt at the center of the bridge. Then…
Peter honestly couldn't believe what he was seeing as the water slowly began to recede. Further upriver, near the closest bend, the water was swirling and gathering as if it was alive. He had seen the river god before, many times, in fact…but never like this.
Drawing from the river itself, the river god swelled to the size of a Giant, and kept growing until Peter was willing to swear that he was almost the size of Cair Paravel. The river god, father of all the Naiads in Narnia, was an awe-inspiring sight, even for someone who was used to the magic of the nature spirits of the blessed land. Then, he charged, streaming down the river banks, gathering speed as he went, until he reached the bridge. And because he was made entirely of water, when he hit the bridge, it was the same as if a tsunami had struck it.
Boards and pieces of the bridge flew everywhere as he crashed into the bridge. The Telmarines were fleeing in panic, trying to get up onto the shore and out of the way – but it was far too late for the ones on the bridge, and they were forced to leap into the river in their desperate flight. With a tremendous yank, the river-god lifted the bridge and it's moorings free and held it in the air.
Most of the Telmarines had gotten off the bridge in time, but Lord Sopespian was trapped. The river god studied him for a moment before the full force of his magic and power crashed into the bridge, obliterating it completely and sending the debris back into the river, which swelled angrily as if in flood, washing many of the Telmarines and their horses away.
Peter looked around and shook his head in disbelief. It was over. Narnia was free again.
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