Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. Pity, I know but still true. None of it is mine except this story line. I don't own the characters, I just play with them to satisfy my own addiction to fluffy, sentimentally stuff :)
A/N: Sorry it's such a short chapter this time, I just felt that it was a natural end to the chapter. I am hoping though that I can get the next chapter up within the next couple of days, hopefully tomorrow morning if I'm lucky. Thanks for reading and review! They're non-fattening and I love them, they make me feel all fluffy inside.
He knew what he had to do.
He turned and lunged back towards the ongoing battle and his brother, wrenching his arm out of Beaver's paws as he did so.
"Peter said to go!" Beaver said desperately, Edmund hesitated and glanced back into the animal's eyes. They were wide with fright but also something else, Edmund recognised for the second time in as many days, the pride in him shining in another's eyes. It was that pride that made his decision but in truth, he had already made up his mind before he even reached the battlefield that morning.
He turned a grin on Beaver that was almost mischievous and declared confidently, "Peter's not King yet."
And with that, he took off back down the steep slope, stumbling and almost falling in places but he managed to reach the foot of the hill without any major injuries. He raced off towards the lower level where Jadis and his brother were now eyeing each other in hatred, sizing each other up. He saw the look in the Witch's eye, she wasn't scared of Peter, he was just a little boy to her. Edmund's heart skipped a beat as he found himself thinking the same thing, Peter was just a child, how could he possibly take on this Witch alone?
"You're not alone, Pete." Edmund muttered determinedly. He quickly glanced behind him and saw Beaver fighting valiantly with Ginnabrick, the Witch's lapdog. He saw Beaver land a heavy blow with his sword and bite the dwarf's arm viciously, causing him to drop his axe. Ginnabrick howled in pain and retreated a few steps before falling to the ground and lying still. Good. He deserved it. Edmund thought savagely, remembering the dwarf's skill with a whip and yips of delight as he, Edmund sobbed and screamed in pain and terror. And now he turned his attention back towards Jadis, she had moved! He stared horrified around the scene until he spotted her again; she was heading straight towards Peter, a look of pure hatred marring her coldly beautiful face. "No." Gasped Edmund and took off again, ignoring the excruciating stitch in his side and the heavy armour and heat which were causing him to sweat salty beads of water into his newly opened and agonising wounds on his back. His throat was tight and dry, his lips were parched and re-cracking and his entire body felt as though it were on fire but still he fought his way towards the Witch, felling any creature who attempted to get in his way.
She nonchalantly flicked her wand at a passing animal and Edmund's rage redoubled. Letting out a ear-splitting, and raw cry of utter hatred and fear and fury, he held his sword high and leapt towards her, bringing his sword crashing down. Silver, glassy shards flew in every direction and she turned to him, shock quickly being replaced by rage and hatred and then finally, a sort of long-suffering satisfaction as she drew back one arm and thrust the dagger-sharp weapon deep into his stomach. He didn't scream. She spared him one last glance of utter disgust and stalked away.
His world went silent as he clutched at his wound, pressing hard trying to keep the blood from flowing. It was no use. As he sank to his knees and then back onto his back he vaguely heard his older brother's heart-wrenching scream of "EDMUND!!!" He swallowed a few times, trying to wet his throat which was now raw from his screaming and awfully dry. I don't want to die. Peter please! I'm sorry, I don't want to die. Susan! Mum, Dad! Anyone, please help me! He wasn't sure whether he said it out loud or not, either way, no help came and in his terror and loneliness he began to sob, harsh throaty sobs which burst from him. Wrenching his stomach and throat causing the wound to spill more precious blood out onto the green round him, and in his pain, he cried more. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Mum, Susan, Lucy I'm so sorry. Dad, please help me. Save me, Peter! The same litany of words rang in his head and occasionally he would croak a few of them but they were only loud enough for him to hear. Help. His voice eventually wore out until he his sobs became silent ones which shook his body agonisingly painfully. I don't want to die alone.
Edmund, fainted.