Note: First of the two chapters for today!

Chapter 17


Edmund was half asleep on Lucy's shoulder when Trumpkin burst into the healer's ward. "Your majesties! One of the Hounds smelled werewolf in the tunnel, heading towards the Stone Table! King Peter is already going to investigate."

That woke Edmund and he sat up straight. "Alone?" he demanded, eyes fierce.

"He told me to find you," answered Trumpkin warily.

Which meant Peter was charging into an unknown, dangerous situation by himself. Great. Edmund hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the pressure on his wound. As he grabbed his sword, Lucy grabbed his arm. "Edmund, you're in no condition to fight!"

He sighed. "No choice, Lu," he said simply before running out the ward with a concerned Trumpkin following close behind.

.

Surprisingly, they were able to catch up with Peter just before reaching the end of the main tunnel. There was no time for anything but a brief nod of acknowledgement as they heard Caspian's terrified shouts: "Stop! Let me go, this isn't what I wanted! You can't do this, let me go!"

Dashing into the room, Edmund grew cold…and not just from the drop in temperature emanating from a strange wall of ice. Impossibly, the face that still sometimes haunted his dreams stared out of the ice, beckoning before the still form of Caspian. A hand reached out toward the young king, Caspian reaching back.

Then the werewolf, and a hag, attacked and Edmund was forced to concentrate on the immediate threat. Peter engaged the hag and Trumpkin fought Nikabrik – the little traitor, he thought grimly – leaving Edmund the werewolf. The beast jumped over Edmund's head so that the king had to twist to meet it and avoid the extended claws. Edmund swung at its head, but it ducked and lunged at the boy's feet. The tackle threw Edmund into the air, but even as he fell he swung, sword slicing through the werewolf's leg. Edmund landed on his bad shoulder, gasping at the pain that muddied his head.

Vaguely he heard Lucy cry out, but before he could fully process her presence and help her, the werewolf snarled and leapt, snapping at Edmund's throat. He rolled, just in time, jumping to his feet and twisting to gain some distance between himself and his enemy. The werewolf growled and swiped a large paw at his shoulder, having apparently noticed his handicap, but Edmund gritted his teeth at the white-hot agony and turned through the blow, bringing his sword around. The blade sliced into the werewolf's skull and, with a final howl, it slumped to the ground, dead.

Edmund gulped in desperately-needed air, but already began looking for his next target. The hag was down, Trumpkin and Lucy seemed to be taking care of Nikabrik. And the witch…Edmund felt his heart drop as he saw that Caspian was no longer transfixed in front of that terrible woman. Instead, Peter stood before her, sword drawn…and not moving. No! Peter, what are you doing?

Not waiting to hear what honeyed words the witch murmured to his brother, Edmund dashed forward, feet flying faster than he thought humanly possible. He knew better than to step in front of the witch, could not dare risk falling under her spell, not again. Instead, he darted around the arch, towards the carved relief of Aslan. He didn't hesitate. Raising his sword with both hands, Edmund stabbed into the witch's incorporeal body with all the strength he could muster.

Time stood still for a moment. Then a surge of power rippled through the sword, the force causing his arms to burn and ache as he struggled to hold position. Following closely, the witch groaned; Edmund barely had time to turn his head as the ice shattered, shards flying at him like a shower of broken glass. Then silence.

.

Edmund slowly lowered his sword, eyes moving to look at the two kings that stood below him, picking themselves up from where they had knelt prostrate on the ground. Wide eyes, blue and brown, stared back at him, both pairs mirrors of shame and guilt. They knew what they had done.

Anger welled in Edmund's gut, anger and hurt he had long clamped down on but which had reached its final boiling point. They knew what they had done! Peter and Caspian had stood in front of the White Witch knowing exactly what they were risking! Edmund wanted to scream, throw his own sword at those idiots who had almost resurrected Narnia's greatest enemy. Only his memory of his own fall to her temptation and enchantment checked his hand. Anger faded as Edmund acknowledged that he could not condemn them for what he himself had once done, not when their regret was almost palpable. No, condemnation could only come from the Great King of Narnia, and Edmund knew well that Aslan would forgive a repentant heart.

That did not mean Edmund could not be disappointed, could not be just utterly tired of dealing with Peter and Caspian's prideful mistakes. Edmund closed his eyes. He was so tired!

"Edmund?" His eyes flew open at Caspian's tentative call. The dark-haired young man hesitated at the Just King's impassive gaze. "Edmund, I…"

"I'm done."

Caspian paused at Edmund's weary interruption. Peter, still reeling from what had happened with the witch, took over trying to speak with his brother. "Ed, please, I…"

"No." Edmund's tired but fierce voice stopped Peter's attempt as well. The older kings stood still, watching as Edmund sheathed his sword with a firm hand. "I'm done. I'm done giving advice that goes in one ear and out the other." Caspian's eyes shifted to the ground. Edmund turned his gaze to his brother. "I'm done fixing mistakes you don't even care about."

Edmund saw Peter's eyes harden with the remnants of pride, which made the Just king all the more angry. Had he learned nothing? "Ed…" Peter began, but he was cut off as Edmund took an angry step forward.

"No! I'm done! So next time you decide that your pride is more important than the good of your country, your people, your family…" Both Peter and Caspian almost comically jumped in fright as Edmund grabbed the witch's wand with one hand and, with angry strength, pulled it from the ground. He pointed the wand at the two kings, hand shaking with fury. "Next time, you can have the glory of destroying Narnia yourself!" At the final word, Edmund threw the wand down before Peter and Caspian, letting it roll against their feet. The two looked up at his dark eyes, which brimmed with almost wild anger. Edmund's voice was low and tight as he finished. "Destroy her yourself. Because I. Won't. Be there."

Turning on his heel, Edmund disappeared into the darkness of the side tunnels, never glancing back at the two kings who stared dismally after him.