Note: Just wanted to be sure it was noted that the Nikabrik/Ginarbrik connection was not my original idea. The moviemakers specifically made Ginarbrik's name similar, and gave Nikabrik Ginarbrik's ring as a prop in PC, to intimate that they were relatives. Credit goes to the moviemakers for that!

Chapter 7


As they walked – for their horses were long gone – Edmund and Caspian talked with Glenstorm, learning about the strengths and weaknesses of the forces already gathered, learning what creatures to send the Squirrels to gather to meet them. And indeed, Narnians of all sorts began joining the party throughout the remains of the night and into the morning. They mostly came alone, or in pairs, but then one of the Wolves caught scent of a herd of horses.

"Telmarines?" asked Caspian nervously, almost expecting a troop to fall upon them.

The Wolf shook his head. "Not to my nose. Narnians."

He was right; a small herd of Horses stepped through the woods, none bridled or saddled…save one. "Destrier!" cried out Caspian, who rushed forward towards the horse he had thought lost.

As Destrier blew into Caspian's hair and nuzzled him for treats, the lead stallion stepped forward. "We found him wandering the forest, Your Majesty."

Caspian smiled, his delight at his friend's return obvious. "I…thank you, my good Horse. Destrier is very dear to me."

The Horse bowed his head. "I am Bwenen of the Quicksilver Herd. We have come to join King Caspian in his fight."

Caspian bowed his head in return. "I gladly accept your aid."

Any ensuing conversation was interrupted by an indignant whinny from the herd. Edmund was amused as Bwenen sighed in resignation when a dark-coated mare pushed her way forward. "Which is the King Edmund?" she demanded with a stamp of her front hoof.

The two humans exchanged wary glances before Edmund stepped closer to the mare. "I am King Edmund, my good Horse. What do you seek of me?" he asked as politely as possible, seeing as the mare looked quite agitated.

"You may ride me, my king."

Edmund blinked. "Um, thank you, lady. I would be honored to ride you in battle."

The mare snorted and frowned at him. "No, my king, you will ride me now."

This completely stunned Edmund and the rest of the Narnians. It was considered ill manners to ride a Talking Horse except in greatest need. Bwenen, though, just sighed at the mare's strange behavior, apparently used to it. "Hwella…"

The mare was not about to back down, even for the leader of her herd. "It is my right! My family has been waiting thirteen-hundred years to fulfill our ancestral oath. I will carry my king."

"Lady," Edmund interjected softly, "what is your oath?"

The mare tossed her mane. "I am Hwella daughter of Hwenith of the line of Philip Kingbearer, who swore that, when he returned to Narnia, King Edmund would ride only he or one of his family. It is my responsibility and right to carry you, my king."

"Philip," breathed out Edmund, chest tightening at the memory of his now long-dead friend. He could see little of Philip's features in this mare, not surprising after so many generations, but she certainly had her fore-sire's spirit. And his lack of respect for the conventions of their race. The fact that Philip, even after being left behind during the hunt for the White Stag, still was looking out for him caused Edmund to blink back tears. He bowed deeply to Hwella. "Child of my dear friend, it would be my honor for you to bear me as your fore-sire did. Sir Bwenen…"

The stallion shook his head and sighed. "You will not insult us by accepting Hwella's offer, Your Majesty." Bwenen smiled ruefully. "She would never give me rest otherwise."

Edmund thanked him before approaching Hwella's side. Mounting was effortless and Hwella shifted only slightly to adjust his weight. It had been some time since he had ridden bareback, but memories of riding Philip flooded back and he automatically shifted himself accordingly. Hwella whickered happily as he gently nudged her to join Caspian, who was already on Destrier.

Though Caspian looked curious, probably wondering about the story behind Philip, Edmund kept silent, his mind wandering to the past, to another Talking Horse, and the friendship they had shared.

~*~

The Narnians rested in the height of day, to accommodate the nocturnal among them and those who needed sleep after trekking through the night. Caspian was fairly grateful for the respite, tired emotionally and physically. He nearly collapsed onto a soft patch of moss that the Narnians had set aside for him and Edmund. Caspian lifted his head at the thought, looking for his friend. Edmund was standing next to the mare, Hwella, softly talking to her before giving her neck a pat and leaving her to her grazing.

"You should sleep," commented Edmund as he too collapsed, more gracefully, next to Caspian and closed his eyes.

Despite wanting to do so, Caspian knew he needed to get what was bothering him off his chest, before they reached their destination and began their war effort in earnest. "Your Majesty…"

One of Edmund's eyelids popped open and glared at him before closing again. "I thought we settled the formality issue months ago, Caspian."

"But that was before I knew…" Caspian trailed off. He was still processing the fact that his friend was actually King Edmund the Just, Knight of the Order of the Stone Table and Duke of the Lantern Waste, one of the Four Sovereigns of Narnia's Golden Age. There were too many capital letters involved in that title for Caspian to feel very comfortable calling him 'Ed' anymore. It was embarrassing enough remembering the elocution lessons he had forced on him.

Edmund just sighed and opened both eyes to look at Caspian. "I am sorry for the subterfuge. It was necessary for the situation; I couldn't exactly go around a Telmarine fortress announcing I was King Edmund of Narnia." A pause, then he added, "I couldn't even do that in my day."

Though Caspian's interest sparked at the reference to a story from Old Narnia, he decided to address a more pressing issue first. "Why did you not tell me when we first escaped, or even in Trufflehunter's den?" It hurt, actually, that Ed – King Edmund – had not trusted him with his identity.

Edmund's eyes narrowed as if he knew Caspian's thoughts. "It wasn't from lack of faith in you, Caspian. If I had told you, and you actually believed me, what would you have done?"

Caspian gave the question careful consideration before answering. "I would have pledged my sword to your authority."

"Exactly. You then would have insisted I be the one to convince the Narnians to fight against the Telmarines."

"They would have listened to you more quickly, and followed you without question," Caspian pointed out, thinking how much easier it would have been.

Edmund gave him a rather sharp look. "But they needed to listen to and follow you. They had to give you their trust and allegiance without pressure from me or conflicting loyalty. You must be their king now."

And that frightened Caspian more than he thought possible. "I would like to but I…I do not know how to be king."

Edmund smiled warmly. "The first and greatest rule when it comes to being a king is to trust Aslan and seek his will in all things."

Caspian bit his lip. He was not sure he could do that completely, trust Aslan. Where was Aslan when Narnia needed him? When Caspian needed him? The young king shook his head slightly. "What is the second rule?"

A light pack-blanket hit the side of Caspian's head. "Sleep whenever you can, because you never know when you will next rest."

Caspian used the blanket to block out the sun and, with a grin, followed orders.

~*~

They reached their destination late that evening, having stopped a few times to gather recruits. Edmund's brow furrowed as the assembled group left the woods to find a great mound that towered over a long plain. He didn't recognize where they were, having gotten his inner-compass turned around as they had journeyed. Edmund certainly didn't recall a hill of that size so near the Dancing Lawn. After only a moment's pause, the Narnians moved forward and entered the doorway that led down into the hill.

The opening tunnel led into a series of caverns and branching tunnel systems. It had apparently been used by the Narnians for years, as the torches lining the caves were fairly recent and easily lit. Edmund listened intently as Glenstorm explained the layout of the tunnels, their holding capacity, and uses. He was actually quite impressed by the system, and could see how the place could be used as a center for planning attacks.

It was Caspian who first voiced the question which had been niggling at the back of Edmund's mind. "What is this place called?"

The answer, "Aslan's How", confused Edmund. He was fairly sure that a how was a tomb, and he did not think Aslan would have a tomb. After all, the Lion had created Narnia even a thousand years before the Pevensies had entered Narnia the first time. Edmund did not really think Aslan could ever remain dead. He certainly had not when he had given his life to save Edmund from the White Witch. "Why is it called that?"

Glenstorm did not answer them straightly. "Come, this way."

The two humans silently followed the Centaur through the tunnels. When they reached the lowest section, they noticed that their torches were casting light upon old, faded paintings on the walls. Edmund's eyes widened and his steps slowed as he realized what the pictures portrayed. There was the coronation of himself and his siblings; across a picture of Peter, Susan, and Lucy entering Aslan's camp at Beruna with the Beavers. And there was Tumnus at the Lantern, and the girls riding Aslan to the Witch's castle. Caspian gave him a wide-eyed stare as they passed the painting of Edmund's, rather short, duel with the Witch, but neither of them spoke.

A sense of power and sanctity grew as they walked to the end of the tunnel and reached a dark cavern. Stepping into the room, Glenstorm moved to one side and lowered his torch. Instantly, a line of fire blazed up, flying around the room and casting a golden light. Edmund and Caspian gasped in unison at the sight before them.

The Stone Table, worn and broken, stood on a dais, surrounded by both upright and fallen stones. Behind the great arch, a carving of Aslan gazed down on them, glistening gold in the firelight. Edmund stared at the Stone Table, this place still sacred to the Narnians hundreds of years after the Lion's miracle had occurred. His mind was transported back to that terrible night, waking to find Aslan gone and dead, knowing it was his fault. He remembered the wonder when, healed of his battle wounds, he had looked up to see Aslan, alive and golden and still loving him. And he remembered his own journey to the Stone Table a year later, remembered being brought to his knees in crushing awe at the sight of the broken stone, the symbol of his undeserved redemption.

Edmund went to his knee once more, hand on his sword hilt, and head and neck bowed low; this time in fealty and love for the one who broke the Stone Table. "Glory to thee," he murmured softly, the pledge he had made so many times before. Aslan, grant me strength. Guide my hand in service to my people. Bring my siblings safely to my side, protect them. His eyes squeezed shut at his most desperate prayer. Please, Aslan, bring Peter, my brother and your High King, back to me…and to himself.