I'm behind on updating, I know. *hides in shame*

Peter

I barely ducked what would have been a skull-crushing blow, had my reflexes been even the tiniest bit slower. The ogre grunted, hefting the log again. Waiting until he had already committed to a swing in one direction, I dived in the other. The branch struck the ground where I had been standing with such force that the ensuing rattle shook leaves from nearby trees. The dislodged leaves fell in a shower, unfortunate victims of an unevenly matched duel. My ankle was not overly fond of the treatment to which I was subjecting it, and didn't hesitate to make its displeasure known. Like an obstinate boar, it refused to comply with my plan to circle around behind my opponent to attempt a surprise attack from the rear. So instead of a neatly executed maneuver that should have allowed me to severely injure my foe, I ended up performing some odd skipping-hobble, more befitting of a lopsided wagon than a knight of Narnia. Oreius would surely have give up my training as a lost cause if he had been witness to such a blunder. When said blunder caused me to lose what little footing I had and plunge headlong into the closest bush, I could only feel gratitude that my general would never find out about this particularly embarrassing lapse of finesse.

Thunder rumbled, masking the commotion I made exiting the bush. As I emerged from the hitherto undiscovered depths of shrubbery, I found the ogre inspecting the bottom of his makeshift club, thinking the reason for my disappearance was because I had been smashed into little more than a smear on his stick. Ogres relied far more on their raw strength than they did on cunning intelligence. A fact that saved my life as I pushed to my unsteady feet and limped over to the dim-witted creature. A twinge in my shoulder accompanied the strike at his bare gut, the highest point of him I could reach.

The ogre bellowed his pain, wrenching his sizable paunch away from my sword arm. But the damage had been done. Thick droplets of blood poked sluggishly out of the tear I had opened across his belly. But ogre anatomy was not the same as human, and the wound was far less debilitating on him than it would have been on a being with slimmer skin and thinner blood. He aimed the branch at me and this time I wasn't quick enough to avoid it completely. The tip grazed my right side, knocking me off my weakened left leg, and I toppled to the dirt. Blinking, I tracked the movement of a large, hairy foot as it lifted into the air and began its descent toward me. I rolled out of the way, allowing the bush I'd gotten acquainted with to suffer a bad end instead. Flipping over onto hands and knees, I was dismayed to see that the foot was coming at me again, with no respite between stomps. I scrambled a meter further into the jungle, boots slipping on the loose dirt. A convenient tangle of vines hung off a tree trunk in front of me and I dropped under the plants, using the greenery as a shield. I needed to catch my breath, badly.

Running for the majority of the day had worn me out, as my sore legs were testament to. My empty stomach was making me lightheaded, and the humid air clogged my lungs with moisture instead of oxygen. Though the stolen blade in my hand was nowhere near the length of Rhindon, it weighed a bit more than my gifted sword, and only grew heavier as my energy flagged. After laying the weapon down within easy reach, I tentatively prodded at my swollen ankle, exploring by touch what I couldn't see for the gloom of my hiding place. As I worked, my thoughts drifted to my brother and I could only hope he that he had found his way out of this wretched place.

Intense sniffing interrupted my musings and I snatched my sword before getting into a prepared crouch. Despite being unable to compete with werewolves for a sense of smell, most ogres did possess a keener nose than they were given credit for. And all the cuts and scrapes littering my body only made it easier for him to identify the metallic aroma of human blood. Much sooner than I would have liked, the curtain of vines was ripped from the tree and I was exposed to the ogre once more.

Apparently finding the impromptu club too difficult to manage, my opponent had resorted to his customary method of hunting. He stretched out a brawny arm, seized my right leg, and yanked me from the cover of the tree. He dragged me a fair distance, not caring in the least how I was jostled and bumped by the random dips in the ground, scratched by sharp sticks, disturbed by slimy leaves. Somehow, my spine found every single tree root that stretched across our path, each one leaving a different mark on my vertebrae.

Without the use of my left leg, I was hard pressed to free myself. Straining against the constant motion, I squeezed my abdominal muscles and managed to raise my torso off the ground long enough to launch an attack on the fingers wrapped around my right calf. The ogre's fingers sprang open when they felt the sting of my borrowed blade. Liberated, I embraced my newfound freedom by flinging myself at the lowest branch of the nearest tree and hauling myself onto it. From there, I clambered to the next limb. And the next. And the one after. Until I was just above the ogre's line of sight. In my current position, I could count the wrinkles in his scaly scalp as he twisted his bald head on his squat neck, nostrils flaring for any whiff of his quarry. I was debating whether or not to attempt an aerial assault on him when the decision was taken out of my hands.

A shadow hurtled out of the jungle, launching itself directly at the ogre. Faster than my eyes could track, muscular loops of obsidian scales wove themselves around the bulky legs, the sagging stomach, the barreled chest and the stubbled throat. Caught off guard, and greatly irritated by his sudden change from hunter to prey, the ogre bellowed repeatedly, beefy hands grabbing at his attacker. From my vantage point, I could clearly see the serpent using his uncoordinated reaction to its advantage. Each time he exhaled his breath into a shout, the snake tightened its coils, increasing the pressure around his body. Annoyance quickly morphing into panic, the ogre abandoned all rational thought and threw himself around the area haphazardly, trying to dislodge the serpent. At one point, his erratic flailing caused him to collide with my chosen tree. Only by wrapping my arms securely around the branch I was laying on did I manage to retain my hiding place, instead of being tossed to the ground as the tree shuddered from the blow. Starved for air, the ogre's struggles slowed. Less than a minute later, his body toppled to the jungle floor.

Victorious, the snake unwound at a leisurely pace, revealing its true size to my incredulous eyes. In the gloom of the jungle, it was unfeasible to measure its length, but I could see enough to know it well over eight meters long. If I hadn't known better, I would have said it had fins along its back. Given that its head was far too large, and had far too many fangs, I would have classified it as a sea serpent, except for the fact it was on dry land. The lower jaw dropped open, showcasing even more teeth, and the creature set to work eating its victim. Disgusted, I turned my face away from the gory scene.

Son of Adam.

The low, mellifluous voice stole into my head, bypassing my ears and gliding straight into my mind. Startled, I shot up, scooting backward on the branch until my back was pressed firmly to the tree trunk. With my sword held out in front of me, I scanned the surrounding jungle, wary of the seductive tone.

Why do you conceal yourself from me, Son of Adam?

Lightning streaked the sky. A stiff breeze picked up, carrying the scent of salt water and moist sand.

Come now, do not be frightened. I should very much like to meet you.

The words were smooth, like honey and wine, slipping around inside my skull, burrowing into my thoughts, designed to lower my defenses, charm my resistance. As if severed by a Lion's claw, the lower branch I was resting my left foot on snapped off abruptly, allowing my swollen ankle to bang against the tree trunk. The shock of pain gave me something else to focus on, a welcome distraction, since I had already felt my resolve wavering beneath the beguiling onslaught of the mysterious voice. Whoever this woman was, she was able to communicate without audible language, indicating she was practiced in magic. More thunder rolled overhead.

You can not hide forever, mortal.

Her tone changed from alluring to threatening in the space of a breath. I was less inclined than ever to answer. With the hypnotic weave of a cobra, the snake below me raised itself from its meal, forked tongue flicking out from between bloody jaws to sample the air. I froze, body going rigid. The great head swiveled in my direction, fiendish yellow eyes narrowing as they latched onto me. I blinked and suddenly a woman was floating in front of me.

She was beautiful. Dark haired, with piercing eyes, she carried an air of elegance about her. Her shimmering gown did little to hide her shapely form. I kept my eyes firmly fixed to her face, tightening my grip on the hilt of my weapon. Full lips twisted up into a cold smile, and then she raised a hand, flicking slender fingers at me. Her serpent sprang into action, whipping me with its tail so that I tumbled from the tree. My fall was cushioned by the slick coils of the reptile and I hurriedly scrambled off it. The woman hovered above me, slowly bending at the waist until she was level with me. Though she never reached out, I felt the phantom touch of soft hands running down the side of my face, across my shoulders, tracing my biceps.

I could feed you to my pet.

She suggested the threat as if it were an event I would be excited about, peering at me coyly from beneath her lashes. I shuddered as the unwelcome touch roamed my skin. Her eyes flashed simultaneously with a bolt of lightning.

But I would much rather rip out your heart.

The invisible hands ceased their sensual prowl and instead clawed at my chest. I gasped, my own hands flying to the source of the pain. But there was no corporeal threat to combat.

Her attack was cut off when a blur of dark hair and determination burst from the trees behind her. Though his timing was impeccable, I faulted Edmund for his incurable habit of not doing as he was told. My brother's face was set in marble, eyes glowing from within, and I knew of only One who could evoke such fierceness. He was unarmed, though he carried a torch in one hand. He slowed the last of his footsteps until he was even with our group. The serpent hissed at him, tail flicking, irked. But it shied away when he raised the torch, a reaction Edmund noticed and used to his advantage.

"Cymopoleia," he said, voice firm and full of command, reflecting his title of king.

So the enchantress had a name. She whirled around when he called, wavy tresses streaming behind her. I could no longer see her face, but I knew she was not pleased to see him. To confirm my theory, the storm clouds broke, unleashing a torrent of heavy rain. The large drops pummeled the greenery above us, some breaking through to splash us with dart-like precision.

"In the name of Aslan, I hereby declare your reign to be at an end," Edmund stated, shoulders straight and chin high.

The noise of Cymopoleia's gnashing teeth reached my ears even over the commotion of the storm.

I tire of you, foolish boy.

"But we both know you can't hurt me," Edmund reminded, and I resolved to question him about that bit of important information later.

Perhaps.

She tilted her head and then Edmund was bent double, vomiting violently. I rushed forward, securing my arm around his shoulder to support him as he heaved forcibly.

"What have you done to him?" I demanded, glaring at the woman.

He drank from my waters. I am merely reclaiming what is rightfully mine.

Edmund trembled in my grip, saliva, bile, and water gushing from his mouth. When the fit did not subside, his free hand blindly sought me, searching for an anchor in the midst of his distress. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide and scared as the fluid was expelled from his stomach.

"Edmund?" I said, seriously concerned. "Ed?"

He shook his head, gagging, unable to breathe for the retching. Maintaining my hold on him, I leveled my sword at Cymopoleia with my other hand.

"Release him!" I ordered. "I know this is your doing. Now release him from your spell!"

Cymopoleia laughed, a sound which would have been musical had it not been so sinister.

My anger deepened, temper flaring, and I stepped away from my brother, despite how his hand grabbed desperately after me. "If you will not stop your attack, then you shall die and your magic with you!"

I charged forward, loping on my crippled ankle. Cymopoleia's eyes widened for only a fraction of a second, then she smiled and I felt pain as I had never experienced before devour my right leg. I crashed to the ground, wriggling onto my back and frantically yanking my leg away from the intense pain. The serpent rolled with me, unaffected by my attempts to dislodge it as it sank its teeth into my flesh. Like rows of sharpened daggers stabbing into me with synchronized rhythm, the teeth did their work with vicious precision. Little pieces of my skin tore away with every motion, and I screamed as the mauling continued. Cymopoleia laughed again, eyes alight with my suffering. Just behind the hideous head of my attacker, I caught a brief glimpse of Edmund, gingerly straightening and dragging a sleeve across his mouth. He set his shoulders, lifted his chin and raised the torch.

"For Narnia! And for Aslan!" he yelled.

NarniaGirl: Thanks! I appreciate that :) I like using fanfic to make connections and explanations for things that I'm not satisfied with in the movies ;)

ChildofGod: *digs self out of mountain of chocolates, roses, and kudos* *gathers it all up and puts it in storage for a rainy day* Sorry for the cliffhanger last time. And probably this time too. TBH, I hadn't even thought of the whole Ed-sea serpent thing pretty much until the moment I started writing it. Btw, are you dead from anticipation yet? I probably shouldn't have waited so long to update... *pokes at you nervously to test for signs of life*

Ohana1575: (since it's too late to reply to you on chapter one and if you make it this far) Thank you!

DorothyDryad: You don't have to review every chapter, I'm just pleased you're still reading =) As to how your review inspired it, you mentioned fics about Ed being a bad swimmer and then asked if that would be a thing in this story. And because of how my brain works, I started thinking about what it would be like to write about that and then I thought about possible tie-ins to the movies, and then I thought about how to tie this story to the movies and then I realized I needed a creature to act as Cymopoleia's attack dog and that's how I realized I could tie this to VotDT and explain Ed's random fear of sea serpents. (Sorry for the really long response!)