Author's Note: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I've been working on it ever since the last update, but I just could not get it to where I wanted it to be. However, to make up for the delay, it is the longest chapter to date, coming in at a whopping 43 pages! I had no idea how much I had actually written until I broke up my main document into a separate one for posting purposes. I hope you enjoy this incredibly long chapter, and don't forget to read and review! Also, thanks to TaraB, Elizabeth Zara, and beloveddaughteroftheking, It's great to see you on the review board, and I hope you enjoy this and continue reading!
Chapter Thirty-Two: Aftermath
Beruna…
The Telmarines gripped their weapons uneasily, trapped between the Narnian army and the swollen river that was slowly dying down. None of them wished to challenge the river again though, out of fear that another mighty flood would cascade and wash them away with so many of their unfortunate fellows. They were leaderless and on the verge of panic. What had been a sure victory for them had turned into a devastating defeat.
Caspian looked at the two Kings who stood next to him. "What do we do now?"
Peter and Edmund exchanged looks before they looked at him. It was Peter who spoke. "You are their Prince and rightful King, Caspian. It is you who must order them to stand down."
Caspian swallowed nervously. He had very little experience in dealing with the army, and he had no reason to believe that they would listen to him. "You and King Edmund have more authority than I…"
Peter shook his head. "Caspian, you can do this. They are your people, and if you do not learn to command them now, you will never win their allegiance and you may have to deal with more insurrection in the future."
Caspian still felt very uncertain. "But if they don't listen…"
"They will, Caspian," Edmund said. "They're leaderless, and now you must step forward. Most of those men have no idea that the reason they were fighting and dying was because of the greed of your uncle and Lord Sopespian. They were only following orders. We'll support you, but you have to be the one. We're legendary figures from their past, and we have no legitimate authority over them as far as they are concerned, no matter what Aslan would say on the matter."
Caspian swallowed back his nerves and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. He took a deep breath before he stepped forward. As soon as he did, the Telmarines turned their attention to him, nervously, as if they were expecting him to order the Narnians to continue their attack and massacre them.
"Men of Telmar!" He could see them shift nervously, uncertain how they should react to this. "As your Prince and rightful King, I order you to stand down! Surrender your weapons peacefully and you will not be harmed!"
He saw the looks exchanged by several of the men and knew that they were hesitant to obey because they still believed the lies that had been spun by Miraz and Sopespian, plus they feared the Narnians and their bestial forms. He had to reassure them, or they would never obey, and might continue their attack out of pure fear. "You have been lied to, used and pulled into a completely unnecessary war, all because of the greed of my uncle and Lord Sopespian. No matter what you may have heard, I never acted against the interests of my people. I was forced to flee from my home in the middle of the night when my uncle ordered the palace guards to kill me while I slept. The Narnians were kind enough to help me, to support me while I fought to reclaim the throne that has been stolen from me."
He paused, seeing a way that he could get his people to start accepting the Narnians, Aislynn, and the High King and his siblings. "But in truth, it is a throne that has never rightfully belonged to me. The throne belongs, by all rights and Narnian law, to High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy, and it is to them that I intend to restore the throne, exactly as the Great Lion Aslan declared." He softened his voice. "This land has never rightfully belonged to us – but that does not mean that we cannot still live as one with the Narnians, under their Kings and Queens and laws. Surrender and we will find a way to live in peace. You have my word as your prince."
He held his breath, wondering if they would attack nonetheless. He was tired of the bloodshed, but – like the Narnians – he would fight if they refused to lay down their arms. He had made a pledge to the Narnians, that he would help them to reclaim their homeland, and he would not be foresworn in his promise. Narnia belonged to the Narnians, and he would see to it that either his people would learn to live in peace with them, or they would leave Narnia and make their way back to Telmar.
But slowly, the Telmarines shifted, each one lowering his sword as they parted – allowing Commander Larez to approach. Caspian tensed, remembering how the man had reacted when they had captured him and interrogated him. Not to mention, he had also murdered the Faun who had been guarding him in cold blood. There was no way to predict what he would say or do.
"I do not know what to think about your plan, but what I do know is that you and your allies have defeated us fairly." To his surprise, Larez offered his sword to Caspian, hilt first. "You have our unconditional surrender, Your Highness."
Caspian took the sword and Larez dropped to one knee and lowered his head. One by one, the rest of the army did the same, even those who were slowly emerging from the river. Caspian turned and looked at Peter, at a loss for what he should do next.
Aslan's How…
When the doorway to the How collapsed under the bombardment from the catapults, Krisalyn knew that she had to get the healers and their patients out of the How. Her cousin had been unable to deal with the siege engines, and she was not going to risk the lives of the healers and the wounded by allowing them to stay. The How had been built to be sturdy and endure, but no one had taken a weapon like the Telmarine catapults into account. No one used anything like it in Narnia, Archenland, or Calormen. They couldn't plan for something that they had never seen before – and Krisalyn was not going to put the construction skills of the Narnians to the test against such a weapon.
She wished there was something that she could do for the Narnians that were trapped under the collapsed doorway – but they didn't have enough people who were strong enough to shift the debris.
Even if we did have enough people, there's no way anyone could have survived a collapse like that, Krisalyn told herself as she stamped down furiously on the desire to go and try to dig the Narnians out regardless of the impracticality of it. Some of the Narnians who had still been inside the How were already trying – but they couldn't stay and risk more lives.
"Narnians, to me!" she called, pitching her voice to carry to all ears. As soon as she had everyone's attention, she looked around. "We must leave the How before the other exits are found and collapsed as well. Healers, help your patients that are not mobile. Anyone who is capable of moving under their own power needs to help someone who isn't, or carry a torch or healing supplies. Personal belongings will need to be left behind. After the battle is over and we're certain the How is in no danger of collapsing, we will return for the rest of the supplies and to free those who didn't avoid the collapse."
There was some muttering about leaving the Narnians trapped, but Krisalyn silenced those mutters quickly. "We do not have the resources or the time to try to dig them out now – and the debris is too heavy for anyone to have survived. They will be given a proper burial when this is over, and they will be remembered as martyrs and heroes of Narnia forever."
The Narnians seemed to see her point, but she could tell they were not happy about it. No one was happy to lose friends and loved ones at any time, let alone for a battle that should never have been fought in the first place. As the How shuddered under another hit and more dirt rained from the ceiling, Krisalyn hurried to get them organized. Fortunately, most of the wounded were mobile and were able to get themselves to the passage that would lead to the exit she wanted to use. The few who were not ambulatory were quickly taken in charge by the healers and their assistants.
Krisalyn grabbed a torch off the wall and moved to the front of the line. "Everyone needs to stay together. When we get out of the tunnel, we'll be in a small grove to the east of the How. Healers, you will need to set up there. I shall go out and start finding more wounded and send them back to you, along with any who can be spared from the fighting to see that they make it safely without compromising your position."
"You are not armed, Your Majesty," one of the Fauns who had received a broken arm when a Telmarine soldier had leaped on him from the top of the collapsed earth while he was finishing off another enemy. He had fought his way back to the How, despite his broken arm, leading a Satyr who had gotten a serious concussion when a chunk of rock from one of the catapult shots had impacted him in the head.
"I do not intend to go into combat, good cousin," Krisalyn replied.
"But the Telmarines cannot be trusted, Your Majesty," Tumnus spoke up in agreement. "King Peter will not be pleased at you putting yourself in danger and not taking anything to defend yourself with."
The first Faun who had spoke handed her his short sword. "Take this, Majesty. I cannot wield it properly with a broken arm, but it will aid you if you are seen."
Krisalyn was going to refuse, but she knew that both Fauns were right. It wasn't fair to expect Peter to come back to her safely when she was putting herself into just as much danger as he was. She was not afraid of battle – as she had told Peter, she was no stranger to combat or the battlefield. Although she had never actually fought in a campaign during her royal training, she had been taught to command an army and to lead during the drills run by her uncle and his generals. She didn't fear battle and the sight of blood didn't bother her. She had little time in her life left – somehow she knew that instinctively. Dying didn't hold any fear for her. She was dying anyway – the only thing left to be determined was how and where. When she passed on, she knew that Aslan would call her to his Country, so there was nothing that she should fear.
But she took the sword without arguing, nodding her thanks before she turned and began to lead the small group through the winding tunnel. It had been some time since she'd last thought about all of these tunnels. Back during the stage when they'd been planning out the layout of the How, she'd been one of the ones who had insisted on multiple exits – but she'd never actually been to the How before now. She had been planning on making a visit only a week before they had received word of the invasion – and she'd never gotten a chance to come. She was only hoping that she could trust her memory of twenty years ago.
The interior had been deliberately designed to confuse and bewilder any enemy who might make it inside. There was a system to navigating the tunnels in place that only a Narnian – or an adopted Narnian, as she was – would understand. The maze of tunnels had been designed to allow the Narnians to fall back and strike from multiple points at once. That concept had been an innovation of Oreius, who was – apart from Peter and Edmund – the best tactician in Narnia, and they had learned from him to begin with.
Krisalyn paused at a junction of tunnels and peered at the walls, holding her torch up and looking for the tell-tale signs that would point her in the direction that she wanted to go. The whole key to navigating the tunnels was an awareness of the life and relationships of the Narnians with their country and Aslan. It was a complicated system of colors, directions, and history, but it was one that connected with every Narnian's love of the kingdom that Aslan had created for them.
After a moment, she located the correct tunnel, or so she hoped, and led the healers and the wounded down it. The tunnel twisted and turned, making her question if she had chosen the right one after all. But to her relief, a few minutes later they emerged from the tunnel right where she had planned for them to be. The grove was small and sheltered from sight by bushes and trees that had been carefully planted to give the appearance of an impenetrable thicket, but to someone who knew the secrets of the How, it was quite easy to enter and exit.
Krisalyn quickly helped the healers reset their supplies and tie new bandages around wounds that had reopened before she squirmed out of the thicket and headed for the front of the How. A breeze had picked up since she had been outside with Peter earlier, and there was a freshness to it that reminded her of the happy days of twenty-five years ago, when she'd been at Cair Paravel with Peter and her in-laws, simply enjoying their lives while they served the Narnians to the best of their abilities.
She rounded the edge of the How to the field that had become the battleground and stopped in her tracks as she caught sight of something she had never thought to see again. Trees were on the field – trees that had not been there a short time ago. Even more, the trees were moving, wading through the earth, their giant roots bursting through the ground to wrap around soldiers and catapults alike.
Only Aslan could have awakened the Dryads from their slumber and sent them to the aid of the rest of the Narnians.
Aislynn and Lucy did it! she thought. They found him!
As the Telmarines fled back across the field, she ducked back into the thicket long enough to tell the healers the good news, so they could begin arranging for someone to go out to the field and begin tending to the wounded who hadn't made it back to the How. Peter's army was in hot pursuit of the Telmarines, and although she knew she should stay with the healers as she had been assigned, all she wanted at that moment was to find her husband and her daughter and make sure they were both safe. She left Tumnus in charge of the healers before she left the thicket again.
Milling around the edge of the collapsed earth were several Telmarine horses. They were stamping and snorting nervously, the battle and the sudden collapse of the earth having completely startled them and made them very uneasy. She eased her way over to them, making soothing sounds to assure them as she looked for one that appeared to be calmer than the others. After a moment, she spotted one. Although still nervous, the dark chestnut stallion wasn't fretting as much as the others, but he was also larger than most – obviously a highly bred and trained warhorse. Gently, she took the stallion's reins and carefully mounted, bringing the enormous beast under control with firm commands and a steady attitude.
Having a rider on his back made all the difference, as the stallion instantly calmed. It didn't surprise her, for war horses like this one were trained to take their cue from their riders, and if they were somehow separated from their masters, they were left with no direction and it made them very uneasy to be without guidance. Spinning the stallion on his heels, she sent him off after the last of the combined Narnian and Telmarine forces, determined to find her husband and her daughter and assure herself that they had kept their promises to be safe and careful.
Beruna…
Peter could see the uncertainty in Caspian's eyes as Larez surrendered to him. The Prince still had a great deal to learn about command, but his speech had convinced his people to stand down – and that was a good start. Now wasn't the time to teach him anyway. There was still a great deal that would have to be done before Caspian could legitimately claim the Telmarine throne, and that would be the time to give him pointers. Right now, Peter was still the one in charge of the Narnian army, and Edmund was his second. The Narnians would respond to them better and more readily, since they knew exactly what needed to be done.
He looked down at Trumpkin, who had somehow found his way to the front of the army in the confusion. "Have some of the Narnians go around and confiscate their weapons. Then have them escorted back to the How. We'll have to arrange a secured place for them to bivouac for the night, and tomorrow we'll march to Cair Paravel."
"Yes, sire," the Red Dwarf said. He bowed, and then hurried off to complete his task, gesturing for two Fauns and a Centaur to accompany him. Peter watched closely for a few minutes as the Narnians began to move among the Telmarines, confiscating their weapons. The presence of the Narnians clearly made the Telmarines uneasy, particularly the Fauns and the Centaur, and Peter didn't want one of the Telmarines to panic at their proximity and attack. But it seemed that, despite their uneasiness, the men were disciplined enough to maintain their places, only watching the Narnians closely, and one by one handing over their weapons as the Narnians reached them. For their part, the Narnians made no threatening, angry, or taunting remarks or gestures that could provoke an attack.
Peter turned his attention to the far bank of the river, where Aslan was waiting with Lucy and Aislynn. He started toward the river, when he paused and looked down at Rhindon. The normally shining blade was coated in the blood of the enemies he had wounded and killed that day. He was hardened to the sight of blood, but it was the useless waste of life that nauseated him – as it did after every battle.
He was not so undisciplined as to be sick here and now on the edge of the river – he had to remain composed and confident until he could be alone. Getting sick now would only make him appear to be an unblooded youth in the eyes of the Telmarines, and not the experienced King he claimed to be. If he did anything that would cause them to lose respect for him and his authority now, he would never be able to recover it, and he would always appear to be weak to them.
He remembered what Aslan had told him about keeping the blade clean. Glancing around, he spotted a bit of wet cloth that had been torn from a Telmarine uniform. Stooping down, he retrieved the cloth and wrung it out, then carefully wiped the blood off of Rhindon before he dried the blade on the thigh of his leggings, wary of the sword's keen edge. He'd never hear the end of it if he accidentally cut his own leg off when caring for his sword.
Besides, if Oreius even suspected that I didn't clean Rhindon before I put it back in its sheath, he'd give me such a tongue lashing that my ears would be ringing for a month. Having been scolded by the General before, for a much less important reason than improper care of a blade, Peter had no desire to repeat the experience. Oreius knew many forms of combat and could be deadly in all of them – but Peter was willing to swear that the Centaur's tongue was the most dangerous of all, mostly because he rarely used it as such.
As he looked up from his task, he saw Edmund and Caspian copying his example, while Susan watched patiently. Her bow would need care and checking as well, but she didn't have the supplies with her to tend to it at the moment – and it could easily wait until she had a bit of leisure later. She had been there on the day Aslan had knighted Peter, telling him first to clean his sword. Edmund hadn't, but he had heard the story numerous times, as well as also having trained under Oreius. As for Caspian…well, if everything that Peter suspected about General Glozelle was true – if the man was even slightly like Oreius – the Prince would have been instructed just as firmly in the proper care of a blade.
Once they were all ready, Peter started for the river again, only to draw up short a second time as Cor rode up to them, with Corin in the saddle behind him. The Archenland King pulled his battle steed to a stop, and both twins dismounted.
"Victory, High King!" Cor declared as he came over to clasp Peter's arm.
"It would not have been possible without your assistance," Peter replied, before he turned to the younger twin. "Or yours, Corin."
"Archenland has always been Narnia's ally and shall always answer when she is in need," Cor replied firmly.
"And Narnia shall always reciprocate in turn," Peter pledged in response.
"What were the casualties among your men?" Edmund asked.
"Relatively few and no fatalities that I am aware of," Cor answered. "We caught them completely by surprise."
That was a relief. Peter already felt some measure of guilt over the Narnians who had lost their lives. Knowing that their allies had not lost any men in a fight that rightfully belonged solely to Narnia eased some of that guilt. He had always hated it when any Archenland soldier was injured in one of Narnia's battles. "If any did fall, they shall be honored at the memorial vigil," Peter said. That there would be a vigil was a given – there had always been one, ever since the first battle at Beruna. "But come, Aslan awaits us."
They started towards the river again, working their way past the submissive Telmarines who were handing over their weapons readily before gathering together for the journey back to the How. Peter saw some fear on their faces, and knew that they didn't fully trust the fact that he and Edmund would uphold Caspian's promise not to harm them. No doubt, they expected to be turned into slaves because they had lost this battle. They couldn't know that slavery was illegal in Narnia and that Peter had every intention of fulfilling Caspian's pledge to them. The Telmarine army was not to blame for this battle – they had only been following orders, as they had been trained to do. It would be easy to blame all of them as a group, but there was a reason that Edmund was known as the Just. Peter knew that he wouldn't allow any of the Narnians to blame the Telmarines as a whole for the crimes of a few – most of whom had already been punished for their transgressions against Narnia.
"Peter?"
Peter stopped just shy of the water at the sound of his name. He looked around for the source of the sound and spotted Krisalyn riding towards him on a dark chestnut war stallion. A wave of completely illogical relief washed over him. His wife was safe. He had known that Caspian would not have returned to the battlefield if Krisalyn had not been taken to safety when the battle started; that there were plenty of hidden exits from the How and that she had not been trapped when the main doorway of the How collapsed…but none of that mattered when pitted against the raw fear that his emotions and love for her had engendered in his heart.
"Peter!" she cried, relieved as she pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted. Her skirt was torn, she was covered in blood from the wounded that she had been tending, and rock dust coated her and turned her grey-streaked black hair a solid grey, while her hair was more than half free of the braid it had been in. But to Peter, she had never looked more beautiful, not even on the day of their wedding.
She hurried to him and threw herself into his arms, staggering him slightly, since she was taller than he was, and he was nearly exhausted from the fight – but he could care less. "You're safe!"
Peter held her close as he regained his balance from her "attack". "I promised I would come back to you, Kris," he whispered into her ear.
She pulled back just a bit and looked into his eyes, before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Once again, it was sweet and loving, without the raw passion he knew that she was capable of feeling and sharing. But it was enough for Peter, considering how much he had feared that he had lost her forever when he had seen her anger and bitterness before, and considering the awkwardness of their relationship that was caused by the difference in their ages. It was enough that her love for him had returned with its full force – and that filled him with more joy than he'd felt since the day she had told him that she was pregnant with Aislynn.
Edmund cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Peter, but Aslan is still waiting – and so is your daughter."
Peter and Krisalyn broke apart to see Cor, Corin, Edmund, and Susan grinning broadly. Caspian just looked puzzled, not fully understanding the history between Peter and Krisalyn.
"Nice to see the two of you have made up," Edmund smirked.
Normally his brother's teasing would have made both of them turn red, but Peter was simply too happy to care. "Stuff it, Ed," Peter shot back, good-naturedly. His love and affection for his wife was well-known by all the Narnians, and it was not something that he was at all ashamed of.
But he knew that Edmund was right. They couldn't keep Aslan waiting. Taking Krisalyn's hand, he led her into the cold water of the Great River. The current was still swift from the flood, and it pulled at their legs. Krisalyn stumbled several times as her torn skirt tangled around her legs, but Peter was careful not to let her fall.
It took them a few minutes to reach the far bank, due to having to dodge some of the remaining debris from the bridge, as well as fight the swift current and slippery rocks at the bottom of the river. But they did make it across and clambered up the slope to where Aslan waited with Lucy and Aislynn. Peter wanted to race over to his daughter and make sure that she was all right, but showing the proper respect to Aslan came first. Besides, she was on her feet and didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere. He couldn't tell more than that in the second or two before he knelt on the sandy, gravelly shoreline, his head lowered in utmost respect for the Great Lion, drawing Krisalyn down with him. His siblings, Caspian, and the two Archenland royals followed his lead immediately.
"Rise, Kings and Queens," Aslan's deep voice reverberated, seeming to go right through him and leave him feeling warm inside, just like it always did whenever the Lion spoke. There was so much that was inherently good about the Lion, that it didn't matter if he was tame or not. Aslan loved them and that filled Peter up with so much pride and self-respect that he felt like he could do anything that Aslan asked of him. How had he ever forgotten that feeling?
Peter, Krisalyn, Edmund, Susan, Cor, and Corin all rose to their feet immediately. Caspian remained kneeling on the sandy shore, his head lowered. Peter glanced at Aislynn, but from where he stood, Aslan was blocking his view of her, and he couldn't tell if she'd been hurt anymore than he could when he had first looked at her.
"All of you," Aslan said warmly to Caspian.
The prince looked up in surprise, but hesitated. "I have no claim to Narnia's throne."
"But you are the King of the Telmarines, Caspian," Aislynn said quietly. "You may not wear a crown –"
"Yet," Edmund interjected with a grin.
"– but you are their King. A crown and a coronation can be easily arranged. The important thing is that you believe that you are their King," Aislynn finished, ignoring her uncle's interruption.
Caspian was quiet for a moment, obviously pondering the princess's words. "I do not think I am ready."
"It is for that reason I know you are," Aslan countered. Caspian slowly rose to his feet and Aslan nodded in approval. The Great Lion shifted and Peter's eyes widened as he gripped Krisalyn's hand tightly – for Aislynn's swollen, bruised face had just come into view.
Krisalyn saw it too and gasped. "Aislynn, what happened?" She broke Peter's hold and rushed forward to touch her daughter's face gently.
Aislynn looked sheepish as she pulled away from her mother's touch. "The Telmarines caught up to us before we reached Aslan," she replied. "I was forced to fight the patrol in order to give Lucy time to get through, but I was captured." She ignored her mother's second gasp and her father's narrowed eyes. "The Lord in charge of the camp where they took me tried to interrogate me, and when I wouldn't give him the answers he wanted, he backhanded me a few times."
Edmund stepped forward and handed Lucy's cordial back to her. "Here, Lu."
Lucy attached the pouch to her belt before she extracted the bottle and uncorked it, offering it to Aislynn. "A drop should take care of that." As Aislynn took the bottle, Lucy looked back at the rest of her family and studied them with a healer's eyes. "You and Peter both seem to be in one piece for once."
"Believe it or not, Lu, I actually got Peter to take a drop of your cordial, otherwise he wouldn't be," Edmund said.
Lucy looked at Peter, and then looked back at Edmund with a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And you didn't have to sit on him this time? I'm impressed."
Peter ignored their banter at his expense, watching his daughter closely as she swallowed a single drop of the precious fireflower cordial. Even as she handed the little bottle back to Lucy, the swelling and the bruising began to fade. After only a few seconds, the only sign of the injury was a thin white scar that ran from her forehead, over her right brow, bypassed her eye completely, and then ran halfway down her right cheek.
Caspian was watching, an angry look on his face that one of his people had dared to scar Narnia's princess and future Queen. "Do you know which Lord struck you, my lady?"
Aislynn shook her head. "No, and I do not care. If there is to be peace between the Narnians and the Telmarines – real peace, and not just an uneasy truce – we cannot seek retribution for every little transgression, Caspian. The ones responsible for this needless war have been dealt with. Now is the time to work to integrate."
"True words, daughter," Aslan said quietly, a pleased look on his face.
Peter started to say something, but before he could, a quiet voice from near his feet spoke. "Your Majesty?"
Everyone looked down to see a group of Mice led by Peepiceek approaching, carrying a littler on which Reepicheep lay, wounded and unconscious. Lucy stepped forward quickly, again extracting her cordial and allowing a single drop to fall into the Chief Mouse's mouth. It took about thirty seconds before Reepicheep's eyes opened and he saw Lucy kneeling beside him. "Oh! Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you." Peepiceek and one of the other Mice stepped forward and helped him to his feet. "Uh – oh!" he exclaimed when he realized that Aslan was sitting only a few feet away. "Hail, Aslan! It is a great honor to be in – oh!" He stumbled as he started to bow, off-balance, as he suddenly realized that his long tail was missing.
"I'm completely out of countenance," Reepicheep said, stumbling back several paces. If a Mouse could blush, Reepicheep would have been a solid red from the tip of his jaunty feather to the tips of his paws. "I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion." He looked up at Lucy, hopefully. "Uh…perhaps a drop more?"
Lucy looked regretful and shook her head. "I don't think it does that."
"You could have a go," Reepicheep replied.
Aslan's deep, rich chuckles broke the conversation. "It becomes you well, small one."
"All the same, great king, I regret that I must withdraw," Reepicheep unsheathed his blade and laid it across his paws, as if preparing to offer it in resignation. "For a tail is the honor and glory of a Mouse."
"Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend?" Aslan asked, his voice holding an odd note that Peter was almost willing to swear was amused when the Lion was trying to appear stern. Looking closer, Peter could see that Aslan's eyes were twinkling.
"Well…it's not just the honor…" Reepicheep scrambled. "It's also great for balance. And climbing. And grabbing things."
"Aslan, Reepicheep has been incredibly brave and dedicated to our cause since this began," Aislynn said in support of the Mouse.
Peter nodded in agreement. "He saved my life on the battlefield, even though his courage far exceeds his caution and self-restraint."
Aslan looked between them, and this time Peter distinctly saw a smile tug at the Lion's mouth as they spoke on Reepicheep's behalf. The smile, though subtle, was filled with warmth and Peter found himself smiling as well, behind Reepicheep's back.
"May it please Your High Majesty, we will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our Chief," Peepiceek said, drawing his sword and holding it in preparation to cut off his own tail, the other five Mice who were present immediately following suit. Peter had no doubt that if Aslan refused Reepicheep here, the Mice wouldn't hesitate to do exactly as they planned.
Aslan laughed, a rich, full laugh that filled everyone with an equal joy as he regarded Reepicheep with those bright eyes. "Not for the sake of your dignity, but for the love of your people." A moment later, Reepicheep's tail magically restored itself.
Reepicheep's eyes widened and he grabbed his new tail. "Look! Look!" He spun in a circle, trying to see the entire length of it. "Thank you, my liege! I will treasure it always. From this day forth it shall serve as a great reminder of my huge humility." With a flourish, he sheathed his tiny rapier.
"Now," Aslan said, looking at Lucy. "Where is this dear little friend that you've told me so much about?"
Everyone looked around for Trumpkin and found that he had followed them across the river with a Faun and a Centaur and was seeing to the disarming of the Telmarines that were emerging from the River on this side. At Aslan's words, he looked over at them, hesitating for a moment. Slowly, he stepped away from the water's edge, leaving the other two Narnians to continue directing the Telmarines.
As he approached the place where Aslan stood, he stopped and dropped down onto one knee, resting the tip of his sword in the dirt and bowing his head. Aslan rose slowly to his feet, watching the Dwarf closely. Then, with no warning, he roared. The force of the roar literally blew Trumpkin's beard and hair around his face and he flinched.
As Aslan stopped roaring, Lucy grinned and looked at Trumpkin. "Do you see him now?"
The joke was lost on Krisalyn, Aislynn, Cor, Corin, Caspian, and the Mice since none of them had been with Lucy or her siblings when Trumpkin had been leading them to the How, but Peter, Susan, and Edmund were all forced to hide their smiles and stifle the laughter that wanted to emerge. That it was laughter that was partially born from their utter exhaustion didn't matter. Poor Trumpkin only looked bewildered and a little confused. If he saw the smiles they were trying to hide, he didn't comment, but only nodded in response to Lucy's question.
Aslan looked around at all of them. "I am very proud of all of you, dear ones. Once again, you have exceeded my highest hopes. You have learned much and accomplished much this day."
Peter looked around at his family and friends. It was true – it had taken all of them, working together, to bring peace back to Narnia. There were still many tasks and trials which lay ahead, especially if they truly hoped to integrate the Narnians and the Telmarines and show them that they could work together and live together in peace, but it could be done, with time and patience. More importantly, it would be done. Peter had no doubt that Caspian and Aislynn would see to that. They were the next generation of leaders for their people, and both of them wanted peace.
But right now, all he wanted was to find a hot meal, a quiet bed, and clean clothing – not necessarily in that order. There would be time later to begin the reunification process, and everyone who would be directly involved in the political aspect would need to get some rest first. It would only be asking for trouble and a resurgence of hostilities for any of the leaders - whether Telmarine or Narnian – to go into such things while exhausted and coming off of a brutal battle. As High King of Narnia, Peter would be expected to be there, but he was completely exhausted at the moment and he also wanted – needed – time with his wife and daughter before they turned all of their energy to the next set of tasks. He had been putting Narnia first ever since their arrival here, but he could no longer muster the energy to do it.
Repeatedly shifting between Narnia's Sword and himself had not helped matters either. While becoming Narnia's Sword granted him a surge of strength and energy, when that power went away, it left him drained. Usually, the funneling of power from Narnia to him and back again was much more gradual, and didn't leave him as weary. But today it had happened more rapidly than it ever had before – almost instantaneously, as if Narnia herself was trying to make up for the (apparent) twenty-five years that she had been without her High King. As a result, the exhaustion and drained side-effect was much more prominent this time. At the moment, it was all he could do to remain upright on his feet. Ignoring the exhaustion during the battle had been possible thanks to the adrenaline rush he'd gotten from the fighting, but now that the fight was over, his body was making its protests very clearly known.
Before he could say anything, he saw Edmund watching him closely, a concerned look on his face. The Just King turned to Aslan. "Aslan, there is much that must be done in regards to the Telmarines – and everyone is exhausted. May we have your leave to see to those tasks so that all may rest before we journey back to Cair Paravel?"
"Edmund!" Peter and Susan hissed together at their younger brother's audacity – no matter how carefully he had framed the request, one didn't simply ask to walk away from Aslan! It was more polite to wait for Aslan to dismiss them. In all the years they had known Narnia and Aslan, Peter had never known his brother to ask to be dismissed. In fact, of all of them, Edmund was usually the most conscientious about waiting politely for Aslan to give them permission. Peter suspected that it stemmed from the first uncertain days in Narnia when Edmund had just been saved from the Witch – his younger brother had been so careful not to do anything to offend anyone that he had seemed to be walking on eggshells around everyone. So for Edmund to be the one asking…
Aslan's chuckle stopped them from rebuking their Just sibling further. "Of course. You have all had a trying day and will need rest. The greatest bulk of the fight is won, but there is more still to be done, and you shall all need to be rested before you enter the political realm of the transition."
With that, the Lion rose and stepped toward the River, plunging in without hesitating. It was the first time that Peter could recall the Lion looking so carefree and joyful. Even in the wake of the first Battle of Beruna, with Narnia free from the reign of the White Witch, Aslan had been serious and quiet as he did what he could to help prepare them for their roles as Narnia's Kings and Queens. However, where Aslan went, so did they. Peter took Krisalyn's hand again and led the way back to the opposite side to return to the How.
The Telmarines drew back at the sight of Aslan, while the Narnian and Archenland combined armies began spontaneously cheering the Great Lion. Peter noticed that the Dryads had left the trees and joined the armies, and at the same moment the Naiads of the Great River rose from the gently lapping waves and joined the cheers and celebration as Aslan began to move back in the direction of the How. The Archenland troops bowed in deepest respect to the Lion as he moved among them, while the Narnians raced right up to him, reaching out to touch him and walk beside him.
"Back to the How!" Peter called. "Tomorrow we march to reclaim Cair Paravel!"
More cheers greeted that announcement and the rest of the army fell into place, leading the Telmarines back to the How to rest. It was a long walk, and everyone was weary from the battle and the rest of the day's events when they finally emerged from the woods and saw the How. The damage to what had once been a beautiful clearing was striking. Before the battle, the How had risen from the far side of the field as a testament to the Narnians' ability to create a structure that was both defensive and highly sacred, sheltering the Stone Table and working to embrace the natural world that Aslan had given to them.
Now there was a large crater in the earth where they had collapsed the caverns, there were places where the Trees' roots had torn through the earth as they attacked the Telmarines, and bodies of the dead were lying everywhere, waiting to be buried. It seemed, however, that the healers were already well on their way to finding and caring for all the wounded, with the help of a few of the Narnians who were guarding them and confiscating all of the Telmarine weapons. But it would be a long time before the clearing looked the way it had only a day ago.
Peter blinked rapidly several times in an effort to keep from falling asleep as they made the long – yet triumphant – walk back across the field. He was literally on his last legs, and he didn't know if he would make it back to his own pallet before falling asleep, let alone stay awake long enough to remove his armor and get at least somewhat cleaned up. But he couldn't help pausing at the edge of the crater, looking down at the devastation the battle had caused. The sheer waste of life – and the destruction of his country's beauty – filled him with sadness and he sighed, his hand unconsciously tightening around Krisalyn's.
"Peter?" Her voice was sweet as she returned the squeeze. "What troubles you, my lord?"
"The waste," Peter replied softly as his siblings and daughter paused beside him, with Cor, Corin, and Caspian behind them. "How many people – Narnian, Archenland, and Telmarine alike – have died here today? How much blood has been spilt? And for what; the greed of two men who could not accept their places?" Peter tore his eyes away from the crater and looked at his wife.
"We won't know and we'll never understand, Peter," Krisalyn whispered. "You know that – you've fought for Narnia for years and seen all of this before. Narnia is not perfect, nor are her people. Conflict is always going to be inevitable, and greed and ambition can destroy just as much as any weapon." She reached up with her free hand and caressed his cheek before glancing at Aislynn, whose scarred cheek was a stark testament to the damage that could be done. "All we can do when it happens is get through it – and then pick up the pieces and try to restore things to what they were."
Peter had no response to that and could only look at her – and Krisalyn could see that he was heartsick over the deaths that he had been a part of. It made her ill too – he should never have had to lead the Narnians into battle, let alone raise his sword and kill so many – but she hadn't killed anyone, nor been forced to direct her people to kill. So it fell upon her to lend him her strength to lean on until he could process what he had seen that day. While Peter wouldn't hesitate to do whatever was necessary to defend his people, his family, or his country, it didn't mean he enjoyed what he had to do at times. She'd lost track of the number of times she'd had to console and support him after a battle, once he'd come home to her at Cair Paravel and the full emotional impact had struck him.
Peter had always felt things deeply. He was gentle and kind, passionate and loving. That was one of the things that she loved the most about him. Of course, to counter his caring nature was a temper that – although rare – was powerful and fearsome enough to frighten anyone. Edmund claimed that when fully enraged, Peter could stop a bull in full charge because the power that emanated from him was so great. But his temper rarely showed itself – only happening when someone attacked his family or his country. When he personally was attacked or insulted, he simply went cold and detached – which in its way was equally frightening.
Looking at him now, however, Krisalyn couldn't see the noble King and proud warrior who had faced down a usurper and the entire Telmarine army. All she could see was a boy, tired and heartsick with the things he had witnessed that day, and her heart broke for him at the lost expression on his face and the sadness in his blue eyes. She looked over at the rest of his family and saw similar looks, but it wasn't anywhere near as pronounced on their faces as it was on his. Aislynn caught her eye and Krisalyn knew immediately that her daughter felt much the same way – and as far as she knew, Aislynn hadn't seen any combat during this most recent conflict.
Aislynn tipped her head towards the How, an eyebrow raised in question, and when Krisalyn nodded, began herding the rest of the royals in the direction of the How. Aslan had already gone ahead, with the rest of the Narnians surrounding him joyfully. Krisalyn caressed Peter's cheek again, watching as his eyes fluttering closed for a moment under her touch before he opened them.
"Peter, come with me," she said softly, squeezing his hand again. She took a few steps in the direction of the How, pulling him along with her. After a few seconds he started moving without her gentle tugs on his hand, but she stayed with him as they went around the crater and toward the How. With each step he seemed to grow wearier and wearier. His shoulders began to slump with exhaustion and it was apparent that he wasn't even thinking about appearances any longer. Not that she blamed him – he had fought long and hard that day. Lucy's cordial had healed his wounds, but it hadn't restored his energy or the strength he had given that day.
The others were waiting for them near the front entrance of the How. Peter seemed to rouse slightly as he caught sight of his family waiting for them, but his blue eyes were still dull with exhaustion. He paused as he took in the sight of the collapsed entrance to the How, and she saw the guilt and pain that went through him as he thought about the Narnians who had died, crushed under the rubble. Although he had no direct responsibility for their deaths, as their commander in the battle, he would take the blame because he had led them into the fight. Krisalyn knew her husband all too well. He had always hated leading the Narnians into a battle, especially when it could and likely would cost lives.
Now he was silently regarding the collapse for a moment before he turned to his brother. "Ed, can you see about organizing a team to clear out that debris?" If he had looked guilty a moment ago about the deaths of the Narnians, he now looked even more so at the thought that he was asking his brother to take over his responsibilities. Technically, he was still in command of the Narnians, and thus he should be the one supervising the aftermath of the battle, no matter how exhausted he was. That was one thing that Oreius had pounded into the heads of both Edmund and Peter – always make sure that the troops were taken care of first, and then they could rest themselves.
"'Course, Peter," Edmund said readily. "The Dwarves should be able to handle it easily enough."
"I would handle it…" Peter began, but Edmund raised his hand to stop his brother from continuing.
"I'll take care of it, Pete. Go and rest – you look dead on your feet."
"You're a brick, Ed," Peter said softly, but with a great deal of feeling. He reached out and took his brother's gauntleted hand for a moment, as his other hand came up to squeeze Edmund's shoulder, before he turned towards the rest of his family and offered them a weary, crooked smile. He released Edmund and gently ran the back of his hand down Aislynn's scarred cheek before he began trudging towards the side entrance to the How.
Krisalyn lingered for a moment, watching her in-laws and daughter, but it was Aislynn who waved her off in the direction that Peter had gone. "Stay with him, Mother. He'll need you."
"Yes, please, Krisalyn," Susan added. "Take care of Peter."
She nodded and followed Peter around to the side entrance she had used to get the healers out earlier and then hurried to catch up to him. Once she was inside she stopped a passing Faun to request that some warmed water and a clean cloth be brought to her room. The Faun nodded and hurried off to do as she had requested, while she moved off, following Peter's path as he rounded a corner ahead of her.
How her husband was managing to remain on his feet was a miracle to her. He was so weary that she was half-expecting him to be staggering, or dragging his feet, but somehow he was able to appear calm and dignified even when he was probably barely holding on to consciousness. The only sign that he was exhausted was when he completely missed the entrance to the small room that he was sharing with Caspian, Edmund, Cor, and Corin. She lengthened her stride to catch up to him and gently grasped his arm and pulled him to a stop. He blinked, as if surprised to see her standing next to him.
"In here, Peter," she said softly, interjecting a soothing note into her voice. She felt so sorry for him, seeing him this exhausted. In fact, it was the first time she could recall seeing him this tired. Although he had often been tired after a battle campaign, he usually had at least a night's sleep before returning to Cair Paravel, so he usually wasn't dropping in his tracks like he seemed about to do. And she had never seen him this weary after Court, no matter how heated matters had become.
She steered him into the room that she shared with Aislynn, Susan, and Lucy, instead of into his own chamber. His sisters and Aislynn would be quieter when they came in than the other Kings would be, what with having to remove all of their plate armor, and she wanted Peter to get a night of uninterrupted sleep. She guided him over to a chunk of rock that would make a decent enough seat until she could get his armor off of him. From what Lucy had said in the past, both of the Kings had a tendency to occasionally fall asleep wearing their armor, especially if one of them was injured and the other fell asleep while waiting at the sick bed. Something that she knew was excruiatingly uncomfortable to begin with, let alone while wearing 15-20 pounds of armor as well.
She rested her hand on his shoulder and applied just enough pressure to force him to sit – not that he really needed the encouragement, since he was barely remaining on his feet as it was. He was covered in blood, his blonde hair was matted to his head with perspiration, and he was trembling with cold in the cooler air of the How's cavern tunnels. She knelt down in front of him and reached up to touch his cheek. "It's all right, Peter. Hold on a little longer and then you can sleep."
Scratching at the doorway drew her attention and she rose to her feet and went over. Pushing the makeshift curtain aside, she found a Faun child waiting with the warmed water and soft cloths that she had requested. Krisalyn smiled down at him and took the items carefully, so as not to spill the water. "Thank you, little one."
The child bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty."
Krisalyn dismissed the child with a nod, and as soon as he turned and scampered away, she allowed the curtain to fall closed and carried the full basin and rags over to Peter's side. His eyes were closed, but his breathing wasn't even or slow enough to indicate sleep. "Peter?"
Wearily, he opened his eyes and she could see just how much of an effort it was for him. She knelt at his feet and reached up to remove his belt, which she laid aside, along with Rhindon. "Just a few more minutes, Peter," she said, pitching her voice softly. He nodded and tried to sit up a little straighter, but with mixed success.
He was still wearing his gauntlets and he fumbled to catch the edge of his tunic so he could pull it off, so tired that he didn't even realize that he was still wearing the pauldrons, rerebraces, and vambraces as well. As long as his arm protection was still on, the tunic wasn't going anywhere, so she reached out and caught his hands and stilled them. "I'll do it, Peter. Let me help you again."
He blinked at her, and then slowly nodded before he shifted uncomfortably. She quickly pushed his hands down and removed his leg armor – the greaves and the sabatons came off easily enough and she set them aside to be cleaned and polished. Rising to her feet, she moved behind him and reached for the leather straps holding the vambraces on. They were removed and followed by the other pieces, including his gauntlets. All of his arm protection was spattered with blood from the fighting, and no doubt some of it was his own as well as that of the men who had died under Rhindon's edge or point that day.
She caught the edge of the scarlet tabard, which was just as bloody as the rest of his armor. Apparently the river hadn't been able to wash all of it away, since the scarlet cloth was stained a deeper crimson in several places. Lifting the material over his head, she exposed the chest plate, collar, and chainmail hauberk. Surprisingly, the hauberk, chainmail, and the steel chest piece were also spattered in blood, not to the extent that his tabard was, of course – but his hands were also covered in blood. She would have expected the gauntlets to be bloody, but not the skin of his hands.
She quickly and carefully stripped the rest of his armor off of him, leaving him clad only in the quilted tunic and leggings that he wore underneath. All of the armor was piled carefully to the side with Rhindon and his belt so that everything could be cleaned. Then she knelt in front of him again and gently picked up his right hand in her left. Picking up one of the rags, she dipped it in the warm water, wringing it out before she gently began washing off his hand. Given his feelings about the wasted loss of life, she knew he would not want to be reminded by having to look at the blood of the people who had died under his blade that day.
The water and the soft cloth was helping, but there were places where the blood had worked its way into all of the crevices and grooves in his hand, and under his cuticles and nails. She painstakingly, gently rubbed his hands with the cloth and the water, chasing out each speck of blood that she could see. At one point, upon looking up at his face, Krisalyn could see that the soothing strokes of the cloth and the care she was giving his hands had helped to relax some of the tension in his neck and shoulders. Peter's eyes were half-lidded, which told her how much he was enjoying her care. He had only ever responded to her like this – even when comforted by one of his siblings, there had always been some lingering tension. Peter was a protector by nature, and – as he had told her more than once, he felt like he needed to be strong for Edmund, Susan, and Lucy in the first few years of their reign, and doing so had just become a habit. But she was his haven, his shelter and his peace. She knew all about the burden of being a ruler, because unlike Peter and his siblings, her entire life had been devoted to becoming a ruler. She had made it clear to him, from the very beginning of their marriage that she would not tolerate him hiding things from her "for her own good". She couldn't help him if he wouldn't tell her what was troubling him.
Once his hands were clean, she carefully used the rag to clean off his face. The water in the basin had taken on a distinctly pink tinge, as well as being somewhat dark from the dirt and grime that she had washed off along with the blood.
"Thank you, my lady," Peter whispered. "That feels wonderful."
"I know how much you enjoy your baths after a campaign, my King," she replied, equally soft, before she interjected a note of teasing in her voice. "Unfortunately, given the distinct lack of a marble bathtub, this will have to do."
Peter wheezed out a short chuckle, but it was apparent he couldn't stay awake any longer. Putting aside the cloth, she retrieved his tunic and leggings from before the battle and pushed them into his hands. "Change out of those filthy clothes Peter."
He blinked at her. It took him several seconds before he processed her words. "'Kay." He fumbled with the cloth for a moment before he got to his feet to begin changing. She turned her back and went over to her pallet, refolding the extra blankets to make as comfortable a place for her husband as she could. The sound of cloth, heavy with sweat and blood, falling to the floor told her that he was almost ready, but she kept her hands busy until the noises from behind her stopped.
Then, with the care born by love and affection (and caution so as not to startle him while he was so exhausted) she approached him and steered him over to her pallet before she helped him into it. Although in this case, it was more an effort of positioning him correctly, because as soon as his head hit the makeshift pillow, he was asleep. Krisalyn gently stroked his blonde hair back from his face.
Looking at him now, Krisalyn found that she was once again struck by the realization of just how much she loved Peter. How had she ever forgotten that? Of all the men who had courted her in an effort to gain power when she had been the Crown Princess of Archenland, only Peter had touched her heart. Only Peter had tried to be a friend first, treating her no differently than he treated any of the young women who had been throwing themselves at him. During the nine years they had been together after they married, they had been happy together. Yes, they had suffered when they lost their first child, and there had been injuries and illness on both sides – but they had, overall, been very happy together.
It was a shame that they would probably never be able to recover what they had once had. The difference in their ages was too extreme now, no matter what their feelings. There would always be a level of discomfort and awkwardness between them that hadn't been there when they had been the same age. Not to mention, she didn't know how much longer she had left, while Peter – Peter was young again. He was getting the chance to live some of the best years of his life for a second time.
For a moment, raw envy stabbed through her, stealing her breath away. She had to struggle to not say or do anything that would wake Peter up when he so desperately needed sleep. But the simple fact remained – Peter was getting a second chance. Some part of her had acknowledged that, but it hadn't really dawned on her while she was struggling with seeing her beloved husband for the first time in twenty-five years and trying to deal with the unfounded anger and bitterness that she had been feeling over his apparent abandonment.
Be fair, she reminded herself. It isn't Peter's fault that this happened. I cannot take it out on him. Everything that has happened has been due to Aslan's will, even if I do not understand or like what has happened. I cannot – I will not drive another wedge into the relationship that I have with Peter, because this is not his fault.
My life is coming to an end soon, but Peter will still be there. He will have his siblings with him, for they are going through the exact same thing. I would give so much to have a second chance like he's received.
After all, her greatest wish was to see Aislynn firmly on the Narnian throne, happily married, and perhaps with children of her own. Of course, now that Peter and his siblings had returned to Narnia, that day might not be coming for a very long time. She couldn't imagine Peter and the others not wanting to stay in Narnia and renew their rule as they continued to help put things right.
But it seems, of course, that I may not get the opportunity to see Aislynn on the throne that is rightfully hers. At least if I do not get to see it, Peter will be here for Aislynn and they'll have each other.
The envy was still stabbing her, but she forced it aside, banishing the feelings to the deepest portion of her heart. Peter needed her support, not her condemnation. She had made enough mistakes with her anger and bitterness in the last few days, not to mention what her betrayed heart had done to Aislynn. She was not going to make further mistakes.
Leaning over, she checked on Peter. He was still deeply asleep, his breathing slow and even. She wrung out the cloth she was using as best she could before she laid it on his brow, using it to help cool the flush on his face from the exertion and the sun that he had received that day.
"I am so sorry, Peter," she whispered. "You should never have had to go through this. I was Narnia's Queen. I should have stayed, should have confronted the Telmarines when they first invaded. If I had, they would have realized that Narnia was inhabited, and perhaps we all could have lived in peace. But I allowed my fear to keep me from fulfilling my duty." She sighed. "You'll never know how much I regret so many of my choices."
Outside of the How…
Edmund watched Peter and Krisalyn head slowly for the side entrance to the How. It hurt his heart to see the exhaustion in his brother's gaze and gait. He honestly couldn't recall ever seeing Peter this exhausted before. At battle, and in the immediate aftermath of a battle, Peter's energy burned like a brilliant flame. He had taken the lessons about tending to one's army to heart, and never before, in fifteen years, had he passed off that responsibility to Edmund. Of course, that was why Edmund was so glad to take care of things for his brother now.
As soon as his brother and sister-in-law were out of sight, he looked around for an appropriate messenger and spotted a small Robin. He whistled softly to get the Bird's attention and watched as the tiny creature spread its wings and fluttered down to land on his hand, where it bobbed its head in the closest approximation of a bow that it could make.
"How may I serve, Just King?" the Robin asked, tipping it's head to the side and staring up at him with one little black eye.
"Send word to the Dwarves and the Giant Wimbleweather – their aid is needed in clearing the debris from the main entrance of the How and removing the bodies of the fallen who were caught in the collapse for burial." Edmund knew that the Dwarves – master stonemasons that they were – and Wimbleweather would be able to clear the debris and repair the entrance in a matter of hours.
"Yes, Sire," the Robin bowed again before spreading its wings and taking to the air to carry the news to the Dwarves and the Giant as he had been instructed to do. Edmund watched as his red feathers vanished into the last of the late afternoon sunlight, before he turned and looked back at the battlefield. Things were proceeding well in getting the wounded seen to and the bodies of the fallen gathered for burial. The dead Telmarines were being lined up separately from the fallen Narnians so that they could be buried according to the Telmarine custom.
Apart from the bodies of the wounded and dead, the most striking evidence of the battle was the large crater in the middle of the field, and the collapsed wreckage of the Telmarine siege weaponry. Some of the Trees had moved back into the wood, but others had stayed on the field, using their spreading branches over the wounded to keep the sun from them until the healers could arrive.
Narnia is a place of peace…why must its beauty be so desecrated by battle and death because of greed? Aslan has only ever sought peace for his children – peace that we failed to bring them when we were sent back.
"Edmund?"
He turned at the sound of his sister's sweet voice. "Yes, Lu?"
"Are you all right?" His little sister looked gently concerned and her brown eyes were filled with compassion.
"I'm fine. Not even a scratch," he answered, for once knowing that it was true. Staying on the horse for most of the initial fight had kept him out of the direct path of danger, but even when they had all charged into the melee, his skills with a blade – and having Peter by his side – had kept him safe. He turned back as the first of the Dwarves gathered by the Robin arrived with their axes and picks to begin clearing the debris.
His sister poked him in the arm to get his attention, giving him a pointed look when he turned back to face her. He knew that look all too well – she didn't believe what he was saying. "That's not what I mean, Edmund and you know it."
Edmund swallowed a sudden dryness in his throat as he realized that his sister was referring to the battle and the duel. Lucy was very discerning and insightful most of the time. More than anyone – except Susan, perhaps – Lucy knew how hard it was for him to watch Peter fight and not be able to help him, whether it had been in a tournament or on the battlefield. Both he and Peter had taken Oreius' admonishments about fighting together as brothers to heart.
"You are Kings – equal in power and majesty according to Aslan's law," Oreius told them as they stood in the small walled-in yard that they had claimed as their own private training ground for their lessons with Oreius and the other soldiers that he had chosen as his assistants.
Peter and Edmund glanced at each other as Oreius paced around them. The massive Centaur still intimidated them slightly, especially after seeing him fight during the battle a week ago. Oreius was so large; they couldn't imagine ever being able to face him in one-to-one combat. It was one thing to do it when they were desperate and fueled by battle adrenaline, but it was something completely different to methodically learning to duel someone of his size.
Of course, there were Narnians who were larger – the Giants, for instance – but Oreius was not only one of their teachers, he was one of their advisors, and they desperately wanted to impress him. They didn't want him to think of them as children who were incapable of learning from him, and who needed to be walked through every step of their rule.
"Even more importantly, you are brothers," Oreius continued, stopping in front of them and looking them squarely in the eye. "As brothers, and as Kings, you must be each other's refuge and shield. It does not matter what may be between you emotionally. When you step onto the field of battle, even in this training yard, I expect you to work together and act as if your own life depends on the life of your brother. Is that understood?"
Both of them nodded immediately. Aslan had already drawn both of them aside after the coronation and discussed this with them. They were Narnia's first line of defense, which was why they had been granted the North and Western Marches of their country. It was their duty to work together to defend their country, and their sisters.
"Now," Oreius reached over his shoulder and drew his enormous sword. "Defend yourself and your brother!" With that he swung, and the training duel was begun.
Oreius had drilled that lesson in to them over the years, with the expected result. Together, there was no foe that he and Peter couldn't defeat, but being separated in a battle weakened them. More than anyone else in the Narnian army, he and Peter trusted each other at their backs – and they balanced each other perfectly, in court or on the battlefield. When Peter's temper raged, Edmund remained calm and collected and approached a problem logically and methodically. On the few occasions when their positions had been reversed and it had been Edmund who was enraged, Peter became the calm and rational one. And as everyone in the Narnian army knew, on the extremely rare occasions when Edmund and Peter's reactions had been the same – well…it was not a good idea to be standing in opposition to them, since they tended to plow through anything that stood in their path.
But now, with Lucy looking at him so pointedly, Edmund knew there was no point in denying it. Had it been anyone else – Oreius, or Tumnus – he would have passed it off as being insignificant. But he couldn't lie to Lucy – not anymore. Not since Aslan had brought him back from the Witch and showed him what it meant to be a brother and a King.
"It was hard to watch, Lu," Edmund admitted quietly, so as not to be overheard. While he was willing to admit things to his little sister – who was also his Queen – he wasn't willing to show any weakness before the Narnians or the Telmarines who were working around them or being escorted to bivouacs for the night. "There were so many times when I thought that he wouldn't make it through the duel. I just – I was so afraid for him. Having to stand there and just watch…" Edmund found that his throat had choked up and he couldn't continue.
"Oh, Edmund…" His little sister quickly found her way into his arms and just held him. Edmund wrapped his arms around her shoulders and just held her, dropping his head to the top of her head. It was an odd moment of peace amid the sounds of battle clean-up and rubble being moved away. The emotional impact of everything that they had seen and done that day, and the impact of everything that had happened to Narnia in their long absence finally hit him and he couldn't do anything except allow his little sister to hold him. He wouldn't cry – not here in the open, for he had too much control to allow that much weakness to be seen. There would be a time and a place to break down like that. But things were still not fully secure in Narnia, and until their authority and that of Aslan and Caspian had been established, showing anything other than a strong, composed front would put them on a weaker footing with the Telmarines.
"Ed, you know that…" Lucy began, only to stop as raised voices from nearby caught their attention and a group of surly Dwarves approached with their picks and axes. Just behind them, Edmund could see Wimbleweather crossing the field, skirting around the outside of the crater. The Dwarves stopped just shy of where Edmund and his sisters stood and milled around a bit before one of the Red Dwarves and one of the Black Dwarves stepped forward to bow roughly before the two monarchs.
"You summoned us, Your Majesty?" the Red Dwarf asked.
"Yes, good cousins," Edmund nodded. He indicated the collapsed entrance. "Some of the Narnians were trapped beneath the doorway when it collapsed. We need to retrieve them so that they can be buried properly and identified for the memorial service. Your people are the best with stonework in Narnia, and I knew that you would be able to clear the way quickly."
The Dwarves turned and studied the collapse, before conferring with each other in low tones for several seconds. Then the leader of the Red Dwarves looked back and nodded. "As you command, Majesty. It should only take a few hours, less with Wimbleweather's help."
Edmund nodded in satisfaction. Normally he would have been exchanging barbs with the Dwarves to goad them into finishing the task more quickly, but everyone was too weary for such games and the task was too solemn. "When you've removed the fallen, take them to their respective races for burial, and make sure their names are given to Tumnus for inclusion on the vigil list."
The Dwarves bowed. "As you command." With that, both groups of Dwarves headed straight for the collapse, waving the Giant over as he approached. It only took them a few seconds to get themselves organized, with some of the Dwarves climbing up onto the slanting slab that had been the lintel of the entrance in order to break it off into smaller pieces for Wimbleweather to remove.
Edmund watched them work for several moments, until he turned back to Lucy, confident that they had it well in hand and would have the doorway cleared efficiently in no time. Dwarves hated to see any kind of shoddy stonework, and given enough time, he knew that they would not only clear and shore up the collapse; they would repair it in a way that would strengthen and beautify the How's entrance.
He looked for his sisters and niece, finding that they had wandered a short distance away to confer with Oreius and Asterius about the guarded encampment that would be set up for the Telmarines that night. Although their weapons had been taken away, it was only prudent to place guards around the bivouac. The Narnians didn't trust the Telmarines, nor did the Telmarines trust the Narnians. Lucy was listening intently to what Asterius was telling her as he stepped over to her.
"The Telmarines are extremely uneasy by our presence," the Minotaur leader was saying, with a derisive snort. "They seem to think that we will slaughter them in the night."
"As King Cor if he would be willing to spare some of his men for sentry duty alongside the Narnians," Lucy told him. "They might feel more comfortable with the arrangements if they are guarded by men."
"Also, find some of the healers to move among them and treat their wounded along with ours," Susan added. They may have their own healers, but if we offer aid to their wounded, we can show them that we mean them no harm."
Asterius bowed. "Yes, My Queens." He turned to do their bidding, moving towards where King Cor and Prince Corin were organizing their men and checking to see who needed to be seen by their healers and who would need to be added to the roster of the dead for the memorial vigil.
"I'll accompany him to speak to Cor and Corin," Aislynn volunteered. "I know a little about how Cor and Corin deal with their sentry lines and such. I can help to set up the rotation before I find out what else needs to be taken care of." When Susan nodded in agreement, Narnia's princess turned and hurried off after Asterius to carry out her self-imposed task.
"Those were good ideas," Edmund complimented his sisters. "Anything that can help us prove that we intend to uphold Caspian's pledge of peace will go a long way towards easing the transition of authority back to us and to Caspian when he is crowned." He glanced back at the bustle around the entrance of the How, seeing the Dwarves breaking the rock apart faster than Wimbleweather could move it aside. It wouldn't take very long at all to clear the entrance, and for that he was thankful. He did wish, however, that the collapse had not claimed the lives of the innocent Narnians trapped underneath. May you be welcomed into Aslan's country, cousins. Thank you for your sacrifice, and know that your names will always be among the most honored of our people.
After a long moment, he turned back to his sisters. "Come on. They've got things well in hand here, and I would like to check on Peter." He looked around one more time to satisfy himself that everything was being tended to. The Narnian healers were moving across the field, searching for any other wounded who had not been treated yet, Orieus and Asterius were taking care of the supervised camp for the Telmarines who had surrendered, Tumnus would be taking care of the initial details for the memorial vigil, the Archenland army was being handled by their monarch and commander, and the Narnian troops had their own set of orders that had been issued even before the battle had begun. He felt confident that everything was under control, and if some crisis did come up, one of the competent Narnians would be able to handle it, or they would seek out Aslan or himself. There really wasn't much more that he could do other than supervise, and at this point, with the Narnians working so efficiently on their assigned tasks, he would be in the way more than anything.
Lucy nodded in agreement. "All right." A look of concern caused her features to crease in a way that Edmund would normally have called charming (although never within her hearing, of course) if it had not been directed partially at him and partially towards Peter, even though their older brother wasn't present. "Ed, is everything really all right with Peter? I've never seen him so tired before."
"He went through a lot today, Lu," Edmund reminded her. "You know he's never enjoyed battle, even though he is quite intimidating on the field, and even though Rhindon is part of him. He also took a lot of serious blows from Miraz during the duel. If it hadn't been for your cordial, I honestly don't know if he would have made it through the battle in one piece. I'm worried about him, but Krisalyn will take good care of him."
"She always has," Susan agreed softly. "I think he was most troubled by the fact that there was no way to avoid the battle. Lu, you know the one thing that he hates most of all is having to lead the Narnians into battle, knowing that many of them will not survive. He's good at being a leader, but he doesn't like having to ask the Narnians to lay down their lives, even though none of them would hesitate to do so."
Lucy sighed. "I know that you're both right…but…" she sighed again. "Have either of you noticed that, even before we left Narnia, Peter has been acting…oddly after other battles? The last skirmish he had with the Northern Giants, the pirate raids along the northeast the year before that, the hunters preying on Narnians in the southern forests? In every case, he seemed…hurt somehow, even when he never took a wound in any of those fights?" She frowned deeply. "And it wasn't just an emotional or mental hurt. He seemed like he was in physical pain for some reason."
"Lu, I think you're imagining it," Susan said, softly. "Why would Peter be in physical pain when he wasn't wounded?"
Edmund, however, raised his hand and stopped his older sister from continuing as he looked closely at his younger sister. "You've seen Peter hurt before and he wasn't wounded?" The image of Peter wincing in pain after he'd already taken Lucy's cordial earlier went through his mind. Peter had passed it off as nothing, but if Lucy had noticed it from before they ever left Narnia, then it was a problem that they would need to confront him about. The last thing Edmund wanted was to find out that his brother was suffering silently from an illness the same way that Krisalyn was.
"I thought I saw him trying to hide the fact that he was hurting a few times, but I wasn't really sure because it was so fleeting," Lucy said, confusion crossing her face at Edmund's probing. When her brother hastened his steps towards the How's side entrance, she glanced at her sister before they both hurried to catch up to him. "Edmund, what's wrong?"
Edmund didn't answer, but hurried through the tunnels until he reached the passage where their sleeping quarters were. He moved to the doorway of the room he and Peter shared with the Cor, Corin, and Caspian and looked in. But Peter wasn't in there. Drawing back in alarm, he looked at his sisters as they hurried up from behind him. "I can't find Peter. He's not in there."
"He has to be somewhere around here," Susan said quietly. "Maybe he went to bathe first?"
Lucy had looked into the next room and drew back to grasp Edmund's arm. "Calm down Ed, he's right here." She indicated the room where she and Susan were sleeping. She lowered her voice. "Kris is watching over him, but he's asleep."
Edmund stepped over to the doorway as Lucy held the curtain aside so he could look in. Just as she had said, Peter was sound asleep on one of the pallets, with Krisalyn sitting on the floor beside him. He started to enter, but Krisalyn looked up and gestured for him to stop outside. She rose to her feet and hurried over to the entrance.
"Sssh," she whispered softly. "Peter is fine, Edmund, but I need you to take your armor off first. I want him to have a night of uninterrupted sleep tonight, and all the clanking will wake him up."
"He's not hurt?" Edmund asked tightly, staring past her at his brother's limp figure.
"Only his heart. He's sick and weary of the death and the destruction, but that's partly because he was so tired. He'll be better in the morning, once he's had a solid night of sleep," his brother's wife assured him.
Edmund wasn't as sure. Oh, he knew that Kris was right, that Peter would be better after getting a good night's sleep - he always was. But it was the uninterrupted sleep that he wasn't sure about. He'd seen his brother in the aftermath of battles before, and Peter rarely managed to sleep the night through unless he was injured. The deaths from the battle often haunted his brother in the hours after the fighting was ended, and Peter usually woke to pace the camp or find some quiet place where he could sit and think. More often than not, Edmund would join him, providing silent, supportive company.
Krisalyn knew that her brother-in-law was not as certain as he tried to be when he nodded in agreement. But he turned to Lucy and Susan and allowed them to help him strip off his armor. She knew that Edmund was concerned about her husband, but she was determined to make sure that Peter wasn't disturbed for anything short of a major uprising from the Telmarines – which she was fairly sure wouldn't happen. He was so tired – he needed rest more than anything else, even comfort from his family.
As soon as Lucy and Susan finished stripping off his armor – a process that took much less time than putting it on in the first place – Edmund stepped through the curtain to his brother's side. He was still sweaty and blood-spattered, although not as much as Peter had been, but he didn't seem to care. Krisalyn watched him as he knelt down by his brother's side and ran a hand through the blonde locks that crowned Peter's youthfully handsome face.
"He was so brave today," Edmund whispered. "It is through Aslan's grace that he's here though. He took so many horrible shots from Miraz; I didn't think he would make it."
Lucy and Susan had entered the room as well and Krisalyn allowed the curtain to fall over the entryway to afford them whatever privacy was available to the royal family. Lucy moved over to her brothers and rested her small, delicate hands on Edmund's shoulders. "Aslan was watching over all of us today, Ed. We were brought here to save Narnia again, and he would never abandon us. Peter's skill with Rhindon helped, but you know as well as any of us that we came here to serve Aslan's will."
Edmund nodded and tipped his head to the side to catch his sister's hand between his shoulder and his cheek, even as he brushed Peter's blonde hair back again. "You're going to sit up with him tonight, Krisalyn?"
She nodded. "I had planned on it. There is still much that I must think about, and I was going to clean and polish his armor and sword."
"Keep a close eye on him," Edmund said quietly. "Peter…he probably won't sleep all night."
"He's exhausted, Edmund," Susan pointed out. "You saw him outside."
"I also know Peter. He almost never sleeps straight through the night after a battle. He'll probably wake up with nightmares, and he'll either want to pace the How, or he'll look for a quiet spot to sit and think while he decompresses from the nightmares and the things he's seen and done today," Edmund countered. "That's just Peter's way of coping."
"I'll stay with him," Krisalyn promised. "But you look weary as well, Edmund. You need sleep, just as Peter does. Your negotiation skills will be needed tomorrow, as will your experience as Narnia's High judge."
Edmund's reluctance and hesitation were clearly written on his face, as was his exhaustion. Usually he would have been better about hiding it, if not for the fact that he was so tired. It was apparent that he wanted to stay with Peter, but while Krisalyn was willing to give up her sleeping place for her husband, Aislynn, Lucy, and Susan would be needed tomorrow, and they would all need to sleep.
"Edmund, go and rest," Krisalyn said firmly. "I promise, I will not leave Peter's side tonight, and you are as weary as he was. Get cleaned up and then find your pallet for the night. Peter is fine, and he will not be alone."
Edmund hesitated a moment longer, but he finally nodded and clambered back to his feet. He looked down at his brother, before he leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, Krisalyn. Peter is lucky to have your love and devotion."
Her brother-in-law's words sent a stab of guilt through her as she remembered how angry and upset she had been as recently as just before the battle began. She was just glad that she had heeded Aslan's advice and found a way to put her anger behind her. There was still a great deal that she and Peter would need to discuss, not about the past, but about their future. She knew it, and she had seen the realization in his eyes. Whatever their relationship had been in the past, it was doubtful that they could reclaim what they had once had. They were both two different people now, with different life experiences – with different life expectancies – ahead of them. Narnia's leadership….well, a lot of that would depend on Aslan's judgment.
But that was for tomorrow and the days to come. For tonight, it was a time to rest and celebrate the victory. Narnia was free again, and that was all that mattered. She watched her in-laws leave the room to get cleaned up, knowing that Susan and Lucy would be returning, and Aislynn would no doubt show up in a few minutes once she had finished attending to whatever tasks had been given to her.
She stepped over to the side and quietly gathered up the armor that she had taken off of him just a short time ago. The tunic, trousers, and tabard would need to be laundered and hung out to dry, but she could clean most of the blood off the plate, chainmail, and his sword, shield, and scabbard. She brought it and the water and rags that she had used earlier to clean Peter's hands and face to his bedside. She carefully settled down into her self-appointed place at his head and picked up the first of his sabatons. The water wasn't perfectly clean, but she was only going to clean off the blood and make sure the armor was laid out to dry properly. Polishing it would take time and supplies that she didn't have at the moment.
Bending her head, she set to work, hoping to have everything clean and dry so they could be polished in the morning, since she suspected that Peter would want his armor to wear when they moved to reclaim Cair Paravel.
Swing, cut, parry, dodge, thrust. Spin left, block, shove, and advance. Cut up, block, and stab.
He was back in the battle, facing wave after wave of Telmarine infantry. Beside him, he could see Edmund guarding his back, and Susan a short distance away, employing her bow effectively. Cor and Corin had just made their charge from the tree line, but the Telmarines hadn't turned to flee as they had hoped. Instead, they were standing their ground and fighting all the harder. They seemed to know that this was Narnia's last stand, and they were determined to take Narnia down forever. It didn't matter that Miraz was dead. The death of their new King seemed to only fuel their determination to stop the Narnians from regaining control of their country.
"Cavalry, to me!" Peter heard Cor yell from nearby, where he was mounted on his fierce warsteed. He glanced over as he dispatched his opponent with a swift stab that snuck past the man's guard, and saw the Archenland King slashing to either side at opponents that were pressing in on him, even as he wheeled his stallion in a tight circle, to keep any of the enemy from being able to cut his horse out from underneath him.
In answer to their King's command, the Archenland cavalry began pressing their attacks to dispatch their opponents and reach his side. But Cor was too heavily pressed. Even as Peter raised Rhindon to block a strike at his head, he watched in horror as one of the Telmarines landed a strike to the rear leg of Cor's horse. The stallion collapsed and sent Cor to the ground, where he was immediately set upon by the Telmarines. He was trapped and unable to defend himself, and moments later, Cor lay dead at the feet of the men who had hewed him down.
"Cor!" Peter heard Corin scream as he witnessed his brother's fall. Peter fought all the harder, trying to reach the prince – the new King of Archenland – before he did something foolish, but he was too far away. Before Peter could stop it, Corin also lay dead, just a few feet from where his brother had fallen.
Whirling in outrage, Peter laid about him with his sword. Rhindon flashed silver, each stroke followed by a spray of blood whenever it connected with something. Before long, Peter was soaked in the blood of the men who foolishly challenged him. An arm, legs, heads… various parts of the enemy lay everywhere around him, as Narnia's Sword was unleashed against her foes.
But for every man that fell under Rhindon's shining steel, it seemed that two came to replace him. Where had the Telmarines amassed such a great army in such a short time? Narnia was a small country, compared to Archenland, which was narrow but long, or Calormen, which encompassed twice the size of Narnia and Archenland put together, but it still took time to rally troops from its far corners. Peter didn't know how widely spread the Telmarines were, but they shouldn't have been able to rally this size of an army in the short time they'd had, even if they'd begun doing so from the time Caspian first fled from his uncle's guards.
Peter spun, Rhindon arcing in a swift circle to claim another life, as he sought Edmund, Susan, and Caspian. Caspian was nearby, hard-pressed even with the help of Trumpkin and Reepicheep. But again, Peter was too far away to prevent the tragedy that he saw looming. Caspian was trapped on the edge of the crater that they had created, and the men pressing him attacked simultaneously, forcing him over the edge of the crater to fall to the ground below. Caspian yelled as he fell, but the yell was abruptly cut off – and Caspian didn't rise from the floor of the crater.
Peter stepped sideways, working his way close enough to the edge to see the bottom of the crater, without being at risk for falling in himself. He slashed out with his sword, cutting himself a small space and giving himself a chance to breathe as he looked down to find Caspian. What he saw filled him with horror and outrage, even more than witnessing the deaths of Cor and Corin.
Caspian lay sprawled on the floor of the crater, lying half on, half off of the rocky debris that was the result of the pillars that had been smashed to cave in the ground. Blood was pooling beneath his head and his eyes were wide open and staring – empty and lifeless. The rock beneath his head told the story, as did the blood smeared across its surface.
"Peter!" Susan screamed suddenly, and Peter whirled around, looking for his sister. She was less than fifty yards away from him, set upon by two ugly, burly Telmarines. They had her pinned to the ground, laughing as they tore at her skirts.
"Susan!" Peter yelled, rushing heedlessly forward, trying to reach her before the Telmarines did anything to hurt her. But despite all his efforts, he felt like he was moving through molasses. He couldn't reach her, and he couldn't take his eyes off her as the men ripped at his sister's clothing before they seized her and began dragging her away, no doubt to do unspeakable things to her before they killed her.
"Edmund!" Peter screamed, hoping that his brother was closer and could do something. Why was this happening? Where was Aslan? Had he abandoned them because they had disappointed him? Why hadn't Lucy and Aislynn brought him to their aid yet? Was he going to have to watch everyone he cared about and loved die, and be unable to aid any of them? "Edmund!"
Susan was beyond his reach. He couldn't get to her and she had vanished from his sight. He looked around frantically for his brother. The last time he had seen Edmund, his younger brother had been fighting near Susan, in order to protect her from something just like this. Edmund wouldn't have allowed the men to take Susan without a fight, but where was his brother?
"Edmund!" Peter screamed again. Where was his brother? "Edmund!"
Peter wore with a start, his brother's name on his lips. "Edmund!" His hand went to his side, reaching for Rhindon. Before he could lay his hand on the hilt, something plowed into him and covered his mouth, knocking him over.
Peter bucked against the weight, throwing it off of him. "Narnia! To me!" He could see Rhindon's hilt out of the corner of his eye, the lion-headed pommel distinctive in the dim light. Whatever had tackled him was lying nearby, and before it had a chance to recover, he lunged, throwing his weight across it as he stretched out his hand for his sword.
He seized the blade and tore it out of the sheath, bringing the blade around in a flashing stroke to rest at his attacker's throat. His other hand was pinning his attacker's hands to the ground above its head, as he straddled the creature to prevent it from striking a second time.
"Peter! Calm down, it's just me!" a soft voice implored. "It's all right!"
The voice was familiar and he blinked, focusing on his attacker. Long, soft sable hair streaked with silver pooled on the ground next to his hand, and wide, violet eyes that appeared almost luminous in the darkness stared up at him from a pale, lined face. He blinked again and could only stare into those eyes as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.
"Peter, it's all right. It's Krisalyn. I'm not going to hurt you."
Krisalyn? Peter's mind was still foggy, but as the name sank in, he recognized the violet eyes and sable hair. He blinked again several times and then blushed as he realized that he had pinned her to the ground with her hands trapped over her head and Rhindon at her throat while he sat astride her waist.
Horrified, he scrambled to get off of her, tossing Rhindon aside as quickly as he could. She sat up as soon as she could, and quickly wrapped her arms around him. "It's all right Peter. You're in the How, the battle is over. Narnia is safe."
"Kris?" Peter felt the adrenaline rushing through him begin to fade, leaving him shaking with the realization that he had almost killed his wife. One second more, and he would have pressed Rhindon into her throat out of pure reflex, and Krisalyn would be dead.
Throwing up his arms to break her grip on him, he scrambled to his feet and raced out of the room, plowing headlong into Edmund, Caspian, and the two Archenlanders who had heard the commotion and come to see what was going on with weapons drawn. They tumbled to the floor in a heap, but before anyone else could recover their senses. Peter was up on his feet and racing down the tunnel.
He had to get away.