Note: Thanks for everyone's input! I decided to post chapters 17 and 18 separately but both tomorrow. However, I also won't be posting chapter 19 until Tuesday. That way, those people who want to read chapters 17 and 18 together can do so, but those people who like reading a chapter a day and don't mind short chapters can exercise restraint and not read chapter 18 until Monday. =D
Chapter 16
After the healer finished his stitches, the old faun left Edmund in the care of his sisters. Both girls were eying him with worry; though Edmund usually possessed a quiet nature, his present silence was too much. Edmund just didn't know what to say, how to speak with his sisters after had had failed so badly.
He should have known Susan would figure it out the moment he flinched away from her touch. Of course she would not confront him straight out, wanting to draw out his words. "Tell us what happened, Edmund," Susan insisted, her voice soft and gentle.
Edmund knew his eyes were betraying his fear. "Susan…"
"Please, Ed?" begged Lucy. "We can't help you unless you tell us what's wrong."
It was Lucy's voice, taut with confusion and worry, that destroyed his resolve. Breathing deeply, and wincing as it jarred his newly stitched and bandaged shoulder, Edmund let the words come. He told them every detail of the failed raid. He told them how he had let Caspian deviate from the plan, how he had been unsuccessful in stopping Miraz. How it was his fault that the Narnians died. He felt numb at his confession, void of emotion but for his guilt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not able to bear the condemnation that must be in his sisters' eyes.
Edmund was not expecting the sharp sting in his cheek as Susan's hand connected, but it shocked him out of his dazed stupor and made him focus on his sister, as was probably intended. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Edmund Pevensie!" He looked up, stunned to see the fire burning in his older sister's gaze. "You're the only king in Narnia right now who hasn't messed up! You did everything you could to make the plan succeed. When Caspian went off and you knew the plan had gone wrong, you told Peter to retreat! He didn't, Edmund. He ran into the courtyard and ordered me to signal the troops, even with the alarm ringing. I thought he was saying that you had Miraz, that we could end it without the element of surprise. It is not your fault that Caspian and Peter put their anger and pride over common sense!"
He clenched his hands at his side, looking away from his sister, denying her words with determination. Then Lucy wrapped her arms around his good arm. "But it hurts so much to blame them," she whispered and Edmund felt his heart start to break. He knew she was right, that his guilt was a shield against the agony of admitting that his student and friend, that his beloved, idolized older brother were responsible for so much death. Edmund slumped against Lucy. He was tired, too tired and hurt to deal with his emotions and thoughts.
Apparently Susan saw this and so checked her own anger. Standing, she smoothed back his dark hair. "I'll go set up your bed. You need to rest." She left, trusting Lucy to hold their brother and give what comfort she could; not knowing that the seeds of further danger were already being sown.
~*~
Caspian stalked through the How, his eyes never meeting those of the Narnians he passed. The young king let out a breath as he reached the empty tunnel leading to the Stone Table room. He needed to be alone, he needed to get away. Away from Peter's accusing glare, away from the sobs of widows, away from the memories of watching the slaughter of the Narnians trapped in the castle. His castle.
The images bombarded him, and Caspian could only push away tears by bringing forth anger, deflecting his self-blame on others, on Peter. He growled beneath his breath as he stopped in front of the painting which showed the coronation of the Four. In Caspian's mind, even the image of the High King exuded arrogance. That arrogance had gotten so many killed, had nearly killed Caspian!
Then the portrayal of the queens. Susan: lifeless, distorted. Lucy, so tiny and naïve. Both helpless beneath the thumb of their brother, thought Caspian darkly, absurdly.
Last came Edmund. Caspian noted, with a bleak laugh, that half of Edmund's picture was missing. Destroyed like so many lives during this night. I wonder if Peter did this as well, came the irrational thought, hiding from his own guilt.
"Are you still glad for the arrival of the kings and queens of old now?"
Caspian turned to see Nikabrik emerge from the shadows cast by flickering torches. He had not spoken much with the dwarf, as Nikabrik and Edmund tended to avoid each other's company. Still, the Black Dwarf had fought well for them, and Caspian knew he was close to Trufflehunter. Perhaps he ought to hear what Nikabrik had to say.
The dwarf continued, his words echoing in the tunnel and resonating closely with Caspian's own feelings. "The queens have done nothing: the older one blindly follows orders, the younger just yammers about her invisible lion."
Though Caspian wanted to defend the ladies, knew he should, he couldn't; not when he saw the truth in Nikabrik's words. Susan had followed Peter regardless of their disagreements and arguments. And as for Lucy's faith in Aslan…Well, where was Aslan when those Narnians died? Why didn't he stop Peter? Why didn't he save my father? Why doesn't he get rid of Miraz?
Then Nikabrik hit the center of Caspian's ire. "And what has the magnificent High King done? Put you down, taken over. Led your army into a massacre."
Despair rose in Caspian's heart as the dwarf opened his eyes to the reality of the Sovereigns he had so idolized as a child. In one last effort, hope attempted to resurface. "But Edmund…he has not failed."
"Hasn't he?" answered Nikabrik with a sneer. "Yah, he's a good fighter and he's done well in battle. But he doesn't understand that sometimes it takes more to win a war. He prays to Aslan; but has the lion ever answered? He follows the High King without question; what did that get him? He can't see past the lion, past his brother, to see what it takes to help you get what you want."
Caspian hesitated, his intrigue battling with his loyalty to his friend, his brother. Intrigue won. "And you think you can help me?"
Nikabrik grinned. "Oh, we can help. We can help you take your uncle's throne, take his blood. We can help you take anything you desire."
Temptation laid, Nikabrik slowly disappeared down one of the side branches of the tunnel. Caspian started following, but paused to glance again at the painting of Edmund. A kernel of misgiving grew in his stomach; was he betraying his friend by going behind his back? Caspian had always involved Edmund in making decisions. Where did that get you? hissed a dark inner voice. Caspian grimaced, but turned away from the image of his friend to follow Nikabrik's path.
~*~
The tunnel led the two into the Stone Table room from the side, nearly opposite the main entrance. They passed behind the great arch, and Caspian could not help but look up at the engraving of Aslan. Cold, lifeless eyes stared back and Caspian turned his attention to Nikabrik, who was speaking again. "You tried one ancient power. They failed. But there are other powers, older and greater. You just have to be willing to use them."
Caspian looked up as he heard heavy breathing. He stepped forward and drew his sword. "Who's there?" he demanded. Two dark figures seemed to melt from the walls of the room.
A limping figured answered in a deep, rasping voice. "I am hunger. I am thirst. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze." The two figures moved closer, and Caspian saw that the speaker had a hairy, spittle-ridden snout, while its companion seemed to be an old woman of some kind. Caspian felt a chill slide up his spine as the raspy voice continued. "I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show…me…your enemies!"
Caspian jumped and shuddered as the figure threw back his cloak with a snarl, revealing the fierce head of a werewolf. The old woman – a hag, his mind whispered – approached in a mockingly reverent manner. "What you hate, so will we. No one hates better than us."
Though the deepest parts of his soul were screaming denials, Caspian's anger overcame them. Miraz had killed his father, killed his Narnian friends; he deserved to die and Caspian did not want to care how it happened. "And you can guarantee Miraz's death?"
"And more," crooned the hag. In his mind, Caspian saw flashes of what could be: himself on the Telmarine throne. Miraz dead. The Telmarines forced to keep peace with Narnia, repaid for their crimes. Peter, kneeling, forced to acknowledge his power and authority.
Another picture flashed through Caspian's mind - Lucy crying, Edmund staring at him in disbelief and disappointment – but his mind was distracted as the hag ordered a circle to be drawn. The werewolf dragged a claw through the dirt, circling Caspian like a vulture as the hag chanted words that made Caspian's ears hurt.
The chant rose and Caspian's eyes widened as the hag withdrew a wand from her cloak, the end jagged. He knew exactly what it was: the wand of the White Witch, broken by Edmund in the Battle of Beruna. Before he could say anything, the hag slammed the wand into the ground beneath the arch. A chill filled the air as a wall of ice climbed between the pillars, and Caspian felt as if he was standing outside in the middle of winter.
But it was the figure that drifted in the ice that chilled his very soul. His anger went cold, his self-hatred fled, and all thoughts of revenge disappeared. What remained were words, whispered in a dark room to answer a hesitant question: She was pure evil, Caspian. Everything she touched died. Even me, even Aslan, though in his power he overcame that death. I thank the Lion on my knees every day that she's gone.
She wasn't gone, though. Not anymore: because there, right before his eyes and floating in a prison of ice, was who could only be Jadis, the White Witch.
The horror Caspian felt at the sight turned his stomach. What have I done?
.
Originally, the first part of this chapter, with Edmund, was actually the end of the chapter. It works better this way, I think.