Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis alone. There are no claims whatsoever except on original characters.
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Today, I might lose both of my brothers. Lucy Pevensie thought, stepping lightly on the mossy ground.
The night wind rustled her cotton tunic as she crept around the encampment. A gold-encrusted dagger was safely held against her flesh and it felt cold against her bare skin. But the lion that was carved on its hilt gave her comfort. It made her believe that Aslan was with her.
Truffle-hunter, the badger, was sleeping, his head wrapped in his furry paws. Lucy smiled slightly as she noticed him drooling in his deep slumber. Most of Caspian's men had gone with him and Peter to the castle so there was no one to challenge her.
The camp that they had set up was in darkness. No fires burned and it was safely engulfed by the forest. Although no one said it, this was a precaution taken by Peter in case all of the raiding party was killed.
She could feel the terror in her bones. Her mind was screaming at her that something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
Gripping the dagger more tightly she increased her pace, her hand secured back with a ribbon. From a distance she looked like a young boy, a squire, and although she envied greatly Susan's natural charm, she was very thankful that she didn't have it herself.
The air felt very cold as she neared the perimeter of the courtyard. Her step faltered and she froze as she heard the slight rustling of leaves. She hardly dared to breathe.
You are a queen. She told herself. Be the valiant as you were named.
Crouching down, she stepped forward, hiding herself behind the heavy thicket of bushes. A glance back told her that she was too far away from camp to signal for help. And anyway it would give away their position.
Her hazel-brown eyes peeked over the undergrowth. From the corner she could see a centaur gliding gracefully across the courtyard. He seemed to be alone. Lucy watched him glance into the forest, the night hiding his face from view. Apparently he saw something to trouble him because he cantered further in.
Each second one of sheer agony, Lucy waited. Finally the centaur came, and now he was galloping back, across the courtyard, his head waving from side to side. Lucy followed his gaze and at the very edge of the forest she saw a wooden bow with a single arrow notched into it. The moon light caught at it and caused it to glisten.
The warning that rose died on her lips.
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Edmund Pevensie heard the swish of the blade before he saw it and with years of training kicking in, he was able to catch the blade with his own.
His opponent was a hideous monster, a severely deformed creature that snarled at him. Edmund saw that instead of teeth, he had sharp thorns in his jaw. With a final swipe, he thrust his sword into the creature's body and it fell with a thunderous clang.
"To arms, Narnia!" He roared to the Narnian and Telmarine soldiers beside him. His cry was answered by a monstrous roar as different sinewy creatures began to fold around them.
"This is witchcraft." Roran, a centaur, muttered shallowly to Edmund. "It is evil. Not meant to be. Evilness. Foulness. Of the worst kind."
Edmund gritted his teeth. After having killed at least half a dozen of the creatures he knew full well that they weren't human. They appeared to be but their bodies were badly altered: one man had thorns protruding from his skin, another had a forked tongue. And the third… He had plant roots growing from his eyeballs. Edmund almost retched and deep inside him, he felt relief to end such a miserable existence.
"Where?" Roran grunted out, as he clashed with another enemy. "Where? Did they come from?"
A more apt question would be: how did they know that we are here?
Edmund swirled around to block a blade and at the same instant jumped high to escape a mace that was swung in his direction and narrowly missed his head.
However while he was warding off the two creatures, another one appeared behind him. Edmund shot out of the way but his ankle twisted painfully and in the midst of the battle, he went sprawling down the courtyard.
Amazing, Pevensie. He thought. Just amazing.
From the sharp pain shooting through his foot, he judged that he might have sprained his ankle but Edmund Pevensie was never known for giving up. With a mighty shove, he sprang up, nearly toppling over again.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a slight figure join the battle. At first he thought it was Susan but as he whipped around, he saw that he was very much mistaken.
The woman could have been very lovely with her poison ivy eyes and long flowing hair but what marred the image was the distinct look of malice permanently placed on her face.
But what made Edmund freeze was the resemblance she had to Jadis. All the blood rushed away from his face. .No….
As their eyes met across the courtyard, the woman smiled and raised her hand. All around him came the clash of metal on metal and the howling of the dying but all Edmund could see and hear was the woman. He thought he heard her whisper. Just one word: his own name.
Edmund. Edmundddd. Her voice trilled and Edmund could not move. His mind was oddly blank and it felt as if he was under a trance. Slowly he dropped his blade: it clattered to the ground, lost among the stampeding feet. One step. Two steps. He began gliding.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, he registered how stupid he was being. His brain screamed at him to wake up but he could not obey and simply moved forwards. Slowly Edmund became aware of a dagger being held up by the woman, its tip glinting. She smiled charmingly at him and then threw it.
All Edmund could do was stand motionless waiting for it to strike. But it never did. Edmund blinked and saw blood splatter even in the darkness and heard an agonized cry from the person who had taken the strike for him.
The cry pierced through him and he woke up, jumping forwards and grabbing the moaning Roran. One glance and he knew. Roran would not live to see the dawn.
"Hurry." The centaur gritted his teeth. "My time is up. You must not fall captive. You must run. Hurry."
There was nothing Edmund could do. Even if he managed to drag Roran out of the courtyard, he had no medicines and he was no healer. Roran was coughing blood by now but he raised him lance and managed to say:
"Die…Die…fighting." He pulled away and grimacing swung his blades.
"I will not forget, Roran." Edmund said fiercely. "I will never forget."
Roran smiled but it was tinged with sadness. He touched Edmund's face reverently and muttering Aslan's name, he charged across the courtyard.
Edmund glanced around fervently, looking for his sword. Spotting it, he dived forwards, raising it up. By the time he looked back Roran was gone from sight.
I will never forget. He vowed to himself. By Aslan, I will never forget.
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Caspian realized it was a trap just one second before he walked into it. He barely had the time to jump back before a dozen arrows sprayed in his direction. One of his men, who had been eager to rush out, was not so lucky, was caught in the neck. Spluttering, he sank to the ground, his life blood dripping out.
Caspian could feel his gorge rising but he fought it back and hollered out for the remaining men to take up their arms.
"It is a trap, my lord." A middle-aged, whiskery man grunted. "A trap. And a good one at that."
Caspian already knew that and he replied curtly. "We have to fight our way through it. It is the only way."
Looking at them, Caspian's heart sank. Two of them were old enough to be grandfathers and three were young enough to be their grandchildren. That left him, one other soldier and two fauns.
Aslan, if you are listening, help us please.
Caspian cast a final glance inside the castle of Cair Paravel and held up his fingers. He was the first one to jump out of the door, brandishing his sword.
His men followed him and though tired from days of journey and weak from lack of food, they acquitted themselves rather well.
The night cast its shadows over the faces of the enemy soldiers. In the faint light Caspian was able to make out their grotesque features.
"What sort of devilry is this?" The whiskery soldier cried out, his face startled.
"None." Caspian said, gritting his teeth. "Even the devil will bow down before the ones who do this."
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Peter Pevensie was half-blind as he raced through the cluster in the courtyard of Cair Paravel and slammed into his sister before the arrow caught her, piercing her pale neck.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Lucy?" He hissed. He felt the tiny body beneath him freeze and Lucy screeched in his ear like the banshee she was.
"Peter!" Peter shifted his grip on his sword and shot to his feet, pushing Lucy to her feet and shaking her.
"When I give orders, I expect them to be followed, Lucy!" He spat, parrying a random blow made towards them. "You never listen, do you? And if I hadn't been there, you would have been dead. You're Isabela all over again!"
He could feel Lucy's stare at the back of his head as he jumped away and clashed blades with a horribly disfigured creature. Feeling sick to his stomach, he swiped the glistening blade and ended the life before him.
"What do I do?" Lucy asked softly. "I can't just sit around. I am your sister after all. And Isabela's sister-in-law."
"You were her sister-in-law." Peter said shortly, his heart hammering madly. "And you go round up the ones back at camp. Alert the soldiers of the danger."
"You won't come?" Lucy asked faintly, grasping her bow firmly.
"No. If we retreat, the creatures will only follow us. We'll lead all of you to your deaths. Go! Now!"
White with fear and anxiety, Lucy fled, flying like a lithe deer amongst the creatures, stabbing some occasionally and soon she had disappeared in the forest.
Peter turned back. It was Telmar castle all over again.
They had gotten into a full-fledged battle just three days after leaving. At this rate they would never survive. And even if they did, where would they go?
Lost in thought, Peter's balance faltered and as he raised his blade high, one of the enemy was able to get under it and push him back. There was a sickening thud and Peter felt his head strike the stone floor of the courtyard. It was too dark to see but Peter could fell some fluid oozing out of the back of his head. He tried to shift away, rolling out from under the enemy and almost achieved it but the creature lolled its huge body around and one of its feet contacted Peter's aching skull. There was a blinding stab of pain and Peter swore.
He had one second to grab his fallen blade before the creature's own weapon came smashing down. Praying for mercy, he waited for the blow. But it never fell. Peter opened his eyes just as the red-shaft arrow struck the creature in the chest.
For a moment he was dumbfounded. Thinking that perhaps Lucy had come back or perhaps Caspian and Ed had come to his aid. Or maybe it was more enemy reinforcements. Jumping to his feet, he raised his sword, spinning around.
To his utter surprise he saw the creatures howling. The fight was breaking up. The groups of enemy soldiers were clearing. They were retreating. Retreating.
From behind him, Peter heard the tell-tale crunch of fallen autumn leaves as someone stepped just beside Peter. His alarms raised, he swung around with all his mind but keeping precise control over his blade.
The tip of his sword landed on the finely arching neck of a glossy brown centaur. Despite Peter's attack, the centaur's face remained smooth and calm. Despite the dark, Peter could see his cheekbones glisten with an almost regal air.
"Your Majesty." He murmured and sank his head in a respectful bow. His eyes were however watchful and he raised his eyebrows at Peter's blade. "We are friends, not enemies."
"Hard to tell the difference these days." Peter flushed but managed to keep his voice steady and calm. "Who are you?"
"I am Felan, Your Majesty. And I serve the warriors of Aslan."
Peter cocked his head to one side. One glance told him that the fight around him was finishing. He opened his mouth just as a thoroughly disgruntled Edmund came up.
He saw his brother cast an appraising eye over Felan and say abruptly.
"Where did you get this army?"
"It is no army, my lord." Felan bowed again and his voice was deep and slightly rough. "It is but a small portion when compared to the witch's forces. And this is not my army. It is under the command of another. I am only third-in-command."
"And who is first in command?" Edmund drawled.
"You will have to wait." Another voice said. Peter spun around and saw a man walk up to him. He wasn't old, just middle-aged and he moved with surprising speed and agility even with his armor.
"Name's Finn, by the way." He said gruffly. "And I'm the second-in-command and since our leader's not here, I'm in command."
"Oh?" Peter arched his eyebrow, keeping his voice neutral. He saw Edmund open his mouth to reply sarcastically and shot his brother a quelling glance. "Do you know who we are?"
Finn eyed him and laughed. "Of course, I do. Kings and Queens he lot of you. Though," He frowned. "I don't see any Queen."
"We don't know you. How can we trust you?" Caspian joined them. Peter saw that Caspian's head was badly beaten and he was bleeding but he was standing upright. "I'm King Caspian of Narnia."
"Not these days." Finn retorted quietly. Peter could see that he was used to authority and did not like having anyone challenge him. "There's no King nowadays. The witch rules Narnia."
"You seem to know an awful lot about the witch." Edmund put in, his tone annoyed. "Will you tell us who you are or do we have to threaten you."
Finn's face became red. He opened his mouth but Felan swiftly intervened. "We cannot say more, sire. You have to trust us. We are your allies. This isn't a safe place to talk. The witch may have her spies around us."
"Yeah." Edmund said sardonically. "I can see that." He looked pointedly at Finn.
"There's not much you can do here." Felan pointed out the obvious. "You are a company of hundreds. You have been attacked. You have no food and no permanent shelter. How will you survive?"
That shut Edmund up and he just glowered. Peter wondered why Edmund was in such a bad mood. He weighed his choices. Felan was right. They didn't have anything else to do, nowhere to go. If they stayed, they would be hunted down and killed. If Finn and Felan and their so-called army had wanted them dead, they shouldn't have come. They had saved them.
He exchanged a glance with Caspian and saw the young man's eyes filled with indecision. But then Caspian nodded barely and a twisted smile came to his face.
"Excellent." Felan nodded and bowed his head, he shouldered a bow. "I should round up the others. Can you lead us to your camp, sire?"
Caspian nodded and grimacing stepped in path with the centaur. As he was led away, Peter heard him ask: "What I'd like to know is that who leads you."
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"Who commands you?"
Felan looked up, slightly bewildered. "You do… sire."
"No. I meant who leads you. And what are you?"
Finn was walking further ahead. The eerie darkness was thwarting them at every turn but Peter had insisted on travelling by night since Jadis could be anywhere. She could be after them even now. He would not take any chances. After much grumbling, Finn had agreed. Felan had said nothing, preferring to keep quiet. So the group of two hundred women, children and men along with Finn's army had set off. Now that Peter had time to observe, he saw that Finn's soldiers were mostly centaurs and fauns and other mythical creatures. Only a small segment was human but despite this they adhered to him.
"We are… a sort of resistance." Felan murmured. "It was set up a long time ago. Over three centuries. To fight against evil forces. My lord, I believe you know, that when you left, the lady Isabela and the Narnians were attacked by the warlock Vladimar. He captured Narnia and his darkness spread everywhere. The few Narnians who survived the battle fled to the Mountain of Helen. There they set up a refuge of sorts. Over time many came and joined them: humans, centaurs, fauns, beavers and other creatures: those loyal to Aslan, who wanted evilness gone. But despite this the resistance was on small scale. Occasional skirmishes, small fights, nothing major." Felan's eyes were hooded. "We didn't want to draw attention to ourselves. You see.. We were waiting. Waiting for the Kings and Queens of Old to come. To join us, to lead us."
Peter remained silent through this narration. He felt Caspian shift restlessly beside him. Was he feeling slighted? Peter knew that deep-down Caspian was afraid of being thrown over by him and his siblings. Was Caspian getting jealous?
Nonsense. Some rational part of him argued. Don't be paranoid. And you have to be united. You have to stand together if you want to defeat Jadis.
"But… we're just children." Lucy pointed out, tucking a red strand behind her ear. "We can't… lead a war."
"Good God, Lu." Edmund muttered. "You sound like Su."
"The Kings and Queens did it once, you can do it again." Felan recited with utmost conviction. Suddenly, he glanced up. Peter followed his gaze and noticed that Finn and his group had stopped. The Telmarine had paused too. The children yawning endlessly in their mother's arms, the people bleary eyed from being up all night.
Felan shot a quick command to a faun beside him. The faun galloped forwards and muttered something in Finn's ears. To his astonishment, Peter saw Finn grin fiercely and say something back.
The faun scurried back and he was beaming happily. Standing up, he relayed the message to Felan.
"So.." Edmund said warily as soon as the faun had stepped away. "What's the big secret?"
Felan smiled gently and his tension vanished. "You can meet our first-in-command now. The one who organized the resistance."
Peter felt everyone stir restlessly and his own anticipation increased. Maybe it was Aslan. The thought filled him with great joy and guilt at the same time. The group assembled beside Finn cleared and they were able to see through the assortment of creatures.
Peter glanced up and froze. His own eyes, as endless as the Eastern Sea, met a pair of green orbs. If Peter's eyes were aquamarine and sapphire then those eyes were emerald and jade.
He would know those eyes anywhere.
The same flowing hair as dark as night. The same slender throat. The same fierce determination. And the same stubborn tilt of her head.
Isabela.
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This chapter took AGES to finish! I'm not sure how it turned out but I tried to stop the fighting from becoming monotonous. All suggestions and comments are welcome. You already know what I'm going to say: Review please! Pretty please?
L. Potter