What is happening?! I'm updating almost daily and my updates keep getting longer too! Whooo! The reason seems to be an enormous amount of sudden inspiration, weird right? Anyway, I will update frequently as long as I am inspired, and honestly I've never had the level of inspiration I do now. Hopefully this chapter is a good one!
The day Peter returned to Cair Paravel Lucy dreamed of lions. They were not Lions as the Talking Lions of Narnia were; they were not wise and kind as Aslan was. These lions were dumb and witless brutes who haunted her dreams even as she fled before them. When Lucy awoke it was with a lingering terror she could not banish.
She dressed quickly and fairly ran out into the sunlit courtyard, startling Susan who was eating breakfast in a little dining room that bordered it. Susan abandoned her toast and joined her sister as Lucy stared out at the land, not to the East as she was wont to do, but towards the towering southern mountains.
"What's the matter, Lucy?" Susan momentarily forgot her anger with her sister in her relief at not being alone.
Lucy shook her head. "Something terrible is hanging over us. I have this horrible feeling that Aslan is gone and Edmund, oh Susan, I'm so dreadfully afraid that he's done something awful! I don't know why." Her chin shook as she tried to hold back tears.
Susan out an arm around her gently. "Lu, it's alright. You are the one who above all believes that Aslan is always with us, even when we cannot see him. No true harm can befall our brothers while he watches over them." Let it be true, please, Aslan, protect them. Please show yourself to us. As if in answer to her unspoken plea the courtyard suddenly erupted into chaos.
A score of talking dogs burst through the open gates, their tongues hanging out in exhaustion, and such a din of barking, yapping and panting arose from them that the two queens nearly missed the arrival of a centaur, a stag, and Asterius, the leopard who had accompanied Edmund. Their hearts leapt with joy and hope, only to plummet in despair a moment later when Philip followed the others, a single, slumped figure half falling from his back.
"Peter!" Lucy cried out above the din and pushed through the confused mass of creatures to Philip's side. It was indeed Peter; his eyes were closed and his face was dreadfully pale though Lucy could see no evidence of wounds. He seemed to be asleep, slumped over Philip's neck, completely oblivious to the racket the dogs were making.
Philip himself was a sorry sight. His head hung low as he panted and his tail drooped. All the creatures were streaked with grime and mud, all were exhausted, but no one seemed to be injured. Wordlessly Susan helped Lucy lift Peter down from Philip's back and the horse heaved a great sigh of relief.
"Is he hurt?" Susan asked Lucy desperately, shaking Peter's shoulders in an attempt to wake him.
"I don't know." Lucy blinked back tears when Peter did not so much as stir. "Philip, what happened? Where's Edmund?"
"I don't…know, your majesties," the horse panted. "We fell…the ground opened…beneath us. When I woke up…we were back in the mountains…with the High King. There was no sign...of King Edmund. With the High King unable…to tell us what transpired…we knew only that we must return." He stamped the ground uneasily with his front hooves. "I would not have left King Edmund…but that his brother had need of me."
Susan nodded blankly. Edmund, where are you? "Has Peter woken at all?" Philip shook his head.
"He hasn't so much as…stirred, Queen Susan."
"Lucy, perhaps your cordial?" Susan watched as her sister hastily placed a few drops of the precious liquid in Peter's mouth. Nothing happened; the High King remained as he was, his eyes closed and breathing steady in sleep. Lucy wept and Susan felt her own eyes clouding with tears of desperation.
Oh Aslan, where have you gone? Have you truly abandoned us in our hour of need? What have we done to bring such sorrow upon ourselves? Far away to the South a wolf howled and Susan shivered.
Try as he might Peter could not remember what he had dreamed about. He felt somehow that it was frightfully important but every time the memory seemed near it slipped from his grasp. It made him distracted as he trained with Menwy, a dark haired centauress who was a distant relation of his first general, Orieus. When he failed to parry her attack, and for the fourth time that day found himself sprawling in the mud, she huffed and pulled him to his feet.
"Forgive me, High King, but if you were to show such a poor display in battle your head would quickly part company with your shoulders. What ails you?"
Peter shook his head to clear it and sent clumps of mud flying from his hair. "My apologies, Menwy, my mind is elsewhere today. I feel as though I have forgotten something of great import to all of us, but I cannot recall it, try as I might."
"Then, perhaps, you should take your leave until you have recalled it. Training will serve little purpose when you are too distracted to keep your feet." Her voice was gruff but not unkind and Peter felt his face flush with embarrassment as he nodded.
Regardless, he was grateful to leave the practice field in search of a bath. If Susan saw him in his current state she would doubtless turn him out of the Cair for tracking mud. He smiled at the thought.
As Peter climbed the stairs to his chambers he thought he heard a distant voice call his name. He turned and saw no one near him, nor was anyone calling up to him from the courtyard. He was about to dismiss it when, quite clearly, he heard Edmund's voice calling out to him.
"Peter! Warn the girls; remember the Witch. Remember!" Peter froze where he was, his heart pounding as a nameless terror swept over him. For a moment, he saw a snowy mountain before him and the long, solemn face of a horse bending over him. Then, he shook himself and the image was gone, though it was with surprise that he found his teeth were chattering with cold. For a moment, the cold of the mountainside utterly overwhelmed the warmth of the summer sunlight which spilled through the open windows. Peter shivered and redoubled his speed, wishing he could leave the strange feeling behind, but it seemed to follow him, no matter how quickly he walked.
After he had bathed and exchanged his mud soaked clothing for fresh clothes he sought out Creon, the court physician. The little faun was bustling about with a strangely distracted air when Peter entered the large room that served as his office. He looked over the top of his glasses and smiled nervously at Peter.
"High King! To what do I owe the unparalleled honour of your visit? I hope your majesty is not unwell?" Peter grimaced, both at the formality and the enthusiasm of the faun's greeting.
"Not at all, Master Creon. I came to seek your advice."
"Of course, your majesty!" The faun fairly danced with delight as he clapped his hands together. "Anything one so humble as I can do to aid the High King of Narnia!"
His exuberance was quickly giving Peter a headache. "Master Creon, there is no need to be so formal; I have every faith in your skills. I have been plagued by strange dreams these four nights past, and yet I cannot seem to recall them upon waking."
"Your majesty wishes to recall them?" The faun was suddenly grave.
Peter nodded. "I feel there is something different about these dreams, something which may be of great import to the kingdom. I cannot say what makes me feel so, but that thought keeps returning to me."
"What your majesty asks is no easy task." Creon shuffled his hooves nervously. "To recall that which is hidden from your waking mind requires you to walk consciously in that which is unconscious."
"Master Creon, I beg you to speak plainly." The impatience in Peter's voice must have been apparent for the old faun shuffled back, widening the space between them. With an effort Peter quelled his annoyance. "My apologies. I have slept poorly and am out of humour."
"It is I who must ask your forgiveness, king." The faun bowed and continued. "What you ask is possible, but I beg you to reconsider. Dreams are forgotten to protect the mind from their horrors. To remember that which is hidden for your protection is to risk madness."
"To be haunted by terrors I cannot recall and to fear sleep is to risk madness," Peter stated dryly.
The faun bowed again. "Then, your majesty, I will prepare a potion which allows you to remain aware, though you dream. You will be able to walk consciously through dreams and will recall them when you wake. I must warn you however, if you wander too far into your dreams you may not find your way back out."
Peter nodded. "I understand, please, prepare the potion and bring it to my chambers when it is done." He left quickly, before Creon could bow yet again.
The potion, when Creon brought it to him, was unutterably foul tasting but he drank it without complaint. Almost at once he felt his limbs become heavy as sleep called to him and when he closed his eyes he found himself in a dream.
Edmund stood before him, bloody and insubstantial as a spirit. "Why did you leave me, Peter?" His voice echoed strangely as if he spoke from a great distance. "Why did you leave me to die on the battle field?"
Peter felt tears burn in his eyes. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry Ed; I'm so sorry."
"It was your fault, Peter. You drove me to betray you to the Witch, you drove me to sacrifice myself in search of redemption. There is no redemption for a traitor, Peter! I'm trapped, wandering the world as a spirit who can find no rest; because of you!" His face twisted into an expression of such intense hatred that suddenly Peter knew. This was not his brother. Never had Edmund looked at anything with such and evil look. Even in the terrible days before he betrayed them to the Witch he had never looked at his brother with hatred. Hurt yes, confusion, anger and a haunting sense of betrayal, but never unbridled hate. Blinking back tears Peter pushed past the apparition and found himself alone in darkness.
But not quite alone he found; somewhere to his left a light flared suddenly as if someone had struck a piece of flint and scattered sparks onto dry wood. He blinked and found himself once more facing Edmund from across an underground cave. "Is this a dream?"
Edmund smiled sadly. His face was bruised and blood ran slowly from a cut above his eyes. "Yes, it is, but it's also true. We're both dreaming."
"What happened? The Witch, I remember the Witch." Suddenly his previous dreams, which now seemed like reality flooded back to him. "Edmund, what have you done?" He demanded in horror. "You told the Witch where to find her wand!"
Edmund bowed his head in shame. "I know. She was going to kill you; what did you expect me to do? That's why you have to wake up. You have to warn the girls and find a way to stop her. I'm sorry, Peter, but whatever happens you must live. You're the High King, Aslan chose you to protect Narnia."
"He chose both of us to protect Narnia."
"And I have betrayed Narnia twice now, both for selfish reasons. The first because the Witch promised me everything I thought I wanted and the second because I could not watch my brother die. Peter, forgive me."
Peter tried to answer him but found himself being swept upwards in a whirlwind of light. "You're waking up now," Edmund called faintly. "Remember, Peter! Forgive me for the wrong I have done." And then Edmund and the cave were gone and Peter opened his eyes to find Lucy and Susan hovering anxiously over him.
So Peter is awake; or is he? Find out in the next update. Leave me a review and tell me if you think he's really awake this time. I'm interested to see your predictions. Also, poor Edmund, right?
Cheers,
A
