Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: When disaster strikes, sometimes even the most conventional warrior must resort to unorthodox measures.

A/N: This is part of my A Light in the Darkness universe. Enjoy!

Unorthodox Measures

Part Four

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My brother's shout was what ultimately cut through the pleasant haze. "What?!" I heard someone, maybe it was one of Peter's Tigers (my Wolves were too young and inexperienced to participate in battle…so I assigned them to bug Susan), reply but I couldn't make out what they said. Peter, however, continued to be loud and clear as he paced (judging by how his voice would come closer then retreat), "When was he last seen?"

Another low answer that I didn't bother to strain to hear. I was more focused on attempting to force my eyes open. I cracked my eyelids and rasped, "Peter?"

I heard the whisper of the tent flap as someone left and then Peter's face appeared right in my line of sight. "Edmund? What do you need? Do I need to summon the healers?"

I scowled as I pulled my head back and muttered, "No. I don't need those dratted healers. I'm fine."

"You fainted yesterday."

"I did not!" Changing the subject before the nitwit could say something insufferable, I crossly demanded, "What were you yelling about anyway?" My brother looked away. My scowl deepened. "Well? What was it? Peter?"

His reply was so quiet that I almost didn't hear him. "I think Oreius has gone rogue."

I blinked then carefully sat up in my hammock, being mindful of my protesting wound, and stared at my brother who looked rather miserable. "What?"

"He's gone, Ed. He wanted us to go after Kat last night, force this emissary to lead us back to the base camp, but I refused. I had to refuse, Ed, you know that. I didn't want to, but Narnia can't just abandon negotiations and use more aggressive tactics on a whim. I told him that and Oreius said he understood that it wasn't an option. But, this morn, first the emissary demands to be allowed to leave to "consult" his master and then when I sent for Oreius to get his opinion of the matter, Vahan Windwolf reported he was gone. Apparently, he left camp last night and hasn't come back."

For a moment, I didn't say anything as I focused on sifting through the tale and trying to figure out…oh. "Peter, did Oreius say he understood that he couldn't leave the decoy negotiations (as I agree this is most likely a delaying tactic), or did he say he understood that Narnia couldn't leave the negotiations?" I had my answer as soon as Peter turned back toward me. That would fit with Oreius and I knew he would have gone after any of us if we had been captured, but for him to leave Kat? No, that wasn't Oreius at all. Nevertheless, if he had gone rogue, things could be very complicated when he returned. I knew why this was troubling Peter so much. Narnia's laws were quite clear that for any soldier, much less the General of the Army, to go rogue there were a number of harsh penalties typically handed down…including the removal of the offender from his or her position. I scowled, "Let's go inspect the good General's tent."

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Tracking these bandits was not as easy as I had hoped. The greatest difficulty was determining which of the freshest tracks I should follow as they constantly split then came together again at various points. Glancing over my shoulder, I noted the sun's position indicated it was already past noon. I had thought I had found something to help me track the fiends, something I had noticed among the tracks. Ah, there it was. One of the horses had an odd print due to the fact that it had a mended shoe. Now that would be easy to track.

The trail became less muddled as I followed it further west and slightly north as more and more tracks joined it but very few if any broke off. The area was just far enough south to avoid the attention of the Giants. Perhaps this was the base camp our scouts had been searching for? The shadows grew longer as the sun drew closer to the western horizon and I took care to stay within them. I rounded a bend and stopped. Spread out before me in the midst of a bowl-shaped valley was a ramshackle collection of ragged-looking tents and haphazardly built huts. The robber baron and the rest of his ilk had constructed a town of sorts…and I would rip it all down if necessary to find where they took Alambiel.

Much as it chafed at me, I forced myself to wait. I would have a greater advantage if I approached after dark, just as when I led raids against Jadis' Secret Police and other strongholds where the Witch had horded what little extraneous food stores were available during the Long Winter. Same tactics, an even more precious goal. I scouted the "town" from the shadows, searching out the weak points that I could best use to my advantage and attempting to assess how many people had gathered under this robber baron. Twice I had to hide to escape detection as men on horseback galloped into the valley, but finally the shadows blended with the night and I approached this den of robbers and mercenaries.

It was almost too easy as I had observed there was but one man assigned to the watch and he had already sunk deep into his cups before the sun had even set. Still, I knew better than to approach this town as though I were not alone. I stayed in the shadows, listening to the drunken and coarse conversations around me for any clue that one of these ignominious cowards would know where my Alambiel was being held. A woman's scream pierced the air and I nearly broke cover as I hurried in its direction but I hadn't even set one hoof outside the protection of the shadows when I heard the scream again only this time it was followed by laughter. It was not Alambiel. Though I was relieved it was not Alambiel's screams I had heard, I felt pity for the woman who did not honor herself enough to demand these men treat her with respect. I turned away, shadowing other robbers and mercenaries who were too busy distracting themselves to pay heed to their surroundings, hoping and praying that I would hear something that could lead me to Alambiel.

I paused behind one darkened tent, steadily ignoring the sounds within, and peered at a building across the way that judging by the steady stream of men into it was the tavern. Fury coursed through me as one man stumbled out and his face was momentarily lit by a lantern before he cursed and staggered for the shadows. That pretender of an emissary. He would know where Alambiel was being held. I would have preferred charging across the way and running the man down, but that wasn't wise. Instead, I skulked behind him, always taking care not to be seen until he stopped and began fumbling with his trousers. It was an opportunity and I wearied of shadowing him.

Seizing him by the throat, I squeezed hard enough to keep him from drawing enough breath to cry out an alarm then lifted him up. His hands were clammy as he clung to my wrist and his eyes bulged with fear. "Where did your master take the Narnian woman?"

His words slurred together into an indecipherable whimper and I growled, "Tell me or you will not live long enough to regret it."

That startled him into talking. He squirmed and gasped, "She is not held here. The men would not be able to resist such a comely wench-" My grip tightened and he choked then his tone became far more obsequious as he whispered, "The we- The woman is being held in the caves a league north under heavy guard."

"How many?"

"A dozen and the Lord of the West told them that they would have their picks of his own personal group of women if they left the Narnian woman alone."

I did not bother to hide my distaste for this poor excuse of a creature but, thank Aslan, his information should help me find Alambiel. Before I could press him further on the identity of his master and why Alambiel was taken, however, a shout sounded behind me. I dropped the man and moved. The false emissary was not so fortunate as he was impaled by the spear that had been meant for me. I drew my swords, facing my adversaries. I could hear the shouts ringing through the robbers' town. My presence was no longer a secret and, apparently, I would indeed tear this town apart before I went after my Alambiel. Charging the robbers, I prayed that Aslan would keep Alambiel safe for a little while longer, just until I could find these caves.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one and what you think will happen next.

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