Chapter 27


The wait seemed too-long and too-short at the same time. The timing depended on Caspian and his battalion now; Peter and Edmund could only watch as the Telmarine cavalry drew closer, steel themselves against the imminent onslaught. As he tried to see though the dust, Edmund tensed. "Peter, they kept a squadron of horsemen back."

He could almost see Peter's mind reaching the same alarming conclusion. They had thought the Telmarines would be arrogant enough to advance their entire regiment of cavalry; their trap depended on catching the horsemen between First Battalion, led by Peter and Edmund, and Caspian's Second Battalion. An entire squadron of cavalry, however, could trap Second Battalion once they emerged. There was no stopping the plan now, though. The ground was already starting to crumble beneath the pounding of hooves.

The sound of lighter hooves from behind reached Edmund's ears, and he turned to see Hwella trot up to his side. She didn't even have to speak, he could see that she intended for him to ride on her in the battle. The sounds of collapsing ground and wounded men were in his ears as he shook his head. "Hwella…"

"It is the High King's orders, my king." Her words were smug, as she knew that Edmund would not likely argue against that.

Edmund turned sharply to look at Peter, who nodded. Frowning, Edmund held back a sigh. Figures. It seemed that Peter was now conspiring with Hwella, as he had with Philip all those years ago, thinking the Horse might be able to keep Edmund out of trouble. Admittedly, they had a point, since Edmund had a tendency to be reckless with his own safety. By riding in battle, he was kept from risks he might otherwise have taken had he not had to look out for his mount's safety as well. But it was still frustrating whenever he ended up bearing the brunt of conspiracy.

Peter smiled grimly as arrows flew over their heads and into the ranks of fallen Telmarines. "Go. Do what you do best." At Edmund's questioning look, Peter's eyes twinkled. "Be creative."

Edmund was about to complain that he didn't know what Peter was talking about when he caught sight of the crossbow Glozelle had left in his haste, and an idea came to him. With a grin at Peter, Edmund scooped up the crossbow and mounted Hwella with a running jump as the Mare began her charge.

The rest of the Narnians followed Peter's command and the battle was engaged. Using a trick he had learned from Caspian, Edmund double-loaded the crossbow, able to use two hands as Hwella steered their course towards the collapsed ground. Edmund let the bolts fly with rapid-fire, letting him take out more Telmarines before having to reload.

Once out of bolts, Edmund tossed the crossbow aside and grabbed a halberd that had stuck in the ground when its satyr owner fell. He used the long, bladed weapon to strike at the enemy, particularly to knock those who were still mounted off their horses, so that the smaller Animals could finish them off. Edmund easily fell back into the mindset of a warrior, never thinking about the men behind the silver masks; who they might be, or even if he knew them from his time in the Beaversdam stables. Now they were only the enemy, and so he sliced without thought of the blood he spilled on the ground.

Pulling away from the heart of the melee, Edmund took a quick glance around the field to survey their situation. Caspian and Second Battalion had joined with First Battalion. While the Narnians were doing well at the moment, Edmund caught sight of the Telmarine infantry beginning to advance. Frowning, he realized that nearly two battalions of infantry remained behind with the lagging cavalry. What were they up to?

Fearing they would attempt a pincer movement, Edmund urged Hwella over to Glenstorm. "General, strengthen the flanks, and pull the front behind the chasm!" Glenstorm acknowledged the order with a nod before galloping away. Hwella dashed back through the ranks as Edmund took down any Telmarine who stood in their way, even as the sounds of horns spread the order.

The horse and her king reached Peter at the same time Caspian drew up, and a guard encircled them to allow their kings to convene quickly. Caspian's news was grim. "The entrance to the How collapsed; the archers were too harried and had to climb down the front to escape being demolished." Yes, there was Susan, trying to organize a wall of pikemen in front of her archers to give them range.

Edmund shook his head and relayed his own news and orders. The Telmarine infantry was now pressing hard at their flanks which, though reinforced, were beginning to falter. It would not be long before they broke through

Peter's face was calm, though his eyes were dim with resignation. Looking first at Caspian, then Edmund, the High King's silent orders were clear. Giving a nod, Edmund swung himself off Hwella, as Caspian did the same from his horse. Edmund patted Hwella's neck gently. "Fight well and bravely, my friend."

Hwella nickered into his hair. "May we meet in victory or else in the Green Pastures, my king." Then she turned and ran to join her herd for their final stand.

Edmund dropped the halberd and drew his sword. The Telmarine infantry drew closer as the main body of Narnians congregated to surround their kings. Susan pushed through the ranks to join them as the archers dispersed, her face filled with determination to fight by her family's side.

Peter drew in a breath. Raising Rhindon, he cried out with the clear, commanding voice of a High King: "For Narnia, and for Aslan!" The Narnians took up the battle cry and followed their sovereigns into their last, desperate charge.

~*~

The Narnian lines were quickly broken. Now only small bands of Creatures fought together, or individuals desperately trying to last just a little longer. There was little expectation of survival: by now, most of the faithful had dutifully concluded that their deaths would be to buy time for Aslan to save their families and the other Narnians still hidden in the woods. Those who never had expected a miraculous rescue where just determined to take down as many of the enemy as they could, and die free from the shadows.

Edmund shared both parties' resolutions.

Ruing not taking Hwella and Glenstorm's advice to carry a shield, Edmund quickly picked up a second sword from a fallen Telmarine. Every stab and slash had to count now; he had no energy to waste with wild swings. Almost unconsciously, Edmund had joined Caspian, Peter, and Trumpkin in forming a circle around Susan, giving her range to use her bow – unlike Lucy had in past battles, Susan did not wear a sword or knife for when the fight came down to close combat.

Even as he relentlessly attacked and defended, Edmund's mind sped with thoughts. With split-second precision and the quickest of glances, he continuously re-sighted their position: which soldiers were posing the most immediate risk, how far each of the Narnian sovereigns were from each other, where he should land his next strike, how to move his feet to keep in line and coordination with the others. His heart pounded, his breathing was heavy. Arms ached from exertion, trembling as he struggled to block the blows of the enemy, then return them with full force.

Giant Wimbleweather ran a path in front of Edmund, bellowing and knocking Telmarines down with every step and swing of his club. It gave Edmund a short chance to breathe and look beyond the immediate threats. His heart sunk at what he saw. The Narnian forces had dwindled and scattered; and rows of Telmarine infantry walked steadily against them from all sides. Two lines were marching straight towards the four human Narnians, and Edmund narrowed his eyes.

They were coming for him. They were coming for his family. The Telmarines had taken Narnia, his home, his people. He would rot in the deepest of hells before he let them take his family while he still drew breath. Blinding, ice-cold rage filled him and he tightened his grips on the swords, letting them become extensions of his arms. Thoughts fled, leaving only that rage, only battle-lust.

Letting out a half-crazed shout, Edmund threw himself at the approaching enemy. He did not think; he moved, arms swinging their sharp edges as he dove into a sea of blue and silver. He did not feel their blood spatter on his face, did not feel when their strikes got through his defenses and sliced at his skin and armor. He did not hear Susan scream his name, or see Peter's eyes go wide and fearful before hardening in his own uncontrollable rage. He knew only the blades of his arms and the rage in his heart; no longer Edmund, but Ares and Deimos, Tyr and Vali. He was Death and he would release his enemies to their rest until he himself was released.

And Death fell upon the Telmarines.

.

In case you don't know:
Ares: Greek god of war
Deimos: Greek god of dread
Tyr: Norse god of combat and heroic glory
Vali: Norse god of vengeance