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Edmund rallied his make-shift army in the field outside Cair Paravel. He glanced up at the castle while they formed ranks. He could see Peter standing at the ramparts, waving a hand in farewell. The boy gulped and waved back; he didn't want Peter to know, but he was terrified. The fate of his last military exploit hung like a dagger over his head. He could not fail this time.
"They're all yours, King Edmund," Cotton said gently, tapping his foot. "You know what to do."
He nodded and raised his voice to the men. "I know some of you aren't happy being under my command. I thought we'd address that before anything else. I want to make myself perfectly clear; if you do not belong to the 8th and 22nd unit, you do not have to come with me. Should you wish to stay, you may."
He watched as five, six, no seven men murmured to themselves and left the troops. He closed his eyes. Seventy-three against three thousand now. "To those of you who have chosen to stay," he called, opening his eyes again, "You temporarily have no officers save for Cotton the Rabbit and myself. You obey our orders and no one else's. We are going into Owlwood. We are going to head off the troll army and fell as many as possible. We will not engage in direct combat. Some of the tactics we will use go directly against the Code of Chivalry. If you are not comfortable with this, then leave now."
More mutterings, and eight more men went back to the wall. Edmund sighed. "For those of you left, you're out of chances to turn back. Cotton and I are going to divide you into two groups now and tell you what we are going to do."
"We're going to have to work fast, Edmund," Cotton said under his breath.
"I know."
"Have you decided what to do yet?"
"A horseshoe. I'll take the east, you take the west. We'll sling our men down through the center of the woods to form the shoe. Basic woodswork, like you drilled me in about three weeks ago, with some of the fancier stuff coming from our 'Poets. Sound good?"
"…I believe so. Better start dividing."
Ten minutes later there were two small patrols heading into the wood. Edmund's patrol, featuring fifteen 'Poets and fifteen soldiers, branched off eastward, cutting through the trees as silently as possible. Cotton's company, fifteen poets and twenty soldiers, veered off to the west, making quite a bit of noise and going a good deal faster.
The woods were quiet save the wild sounds of the western division. Edmund glanced back at his men; the 'Poets were handling themselves quite well, but the soldiers looked terrified. He chuckled and gave a signal. Ten men in the back speed up to join him in the front line. "Majesty," whispered one of the soldiers, a faun Edmund didn't know. "What exactly are they doing over there?"
Edmund chuckled. "Taking the long way."
"But they're so…loud."
"Doesn't seem safe, does it?"
The faun shook his head and swallowed hard.
"Don't worry. Impera, take three men and take the central cut-off…plants some thorns."
"Yesssss sssssssir," the snake hissed, nodding to the two badgers and minotaur next to him and disappearing into the trees.
"Hen, go north through the tree branches with five or six more. Find out where the trolls are now, locate the toprunners from the west side, and help them with the surprises upstairs."
"Got it, your Majesty," said Hen. The monkey gestured to a pair of eagles, a squirrel, a tree snake and a jaguar and the six of them leapt into the tree tops, heading west.
All at once, the western division fell silent. "Charge!" Edmund cried, sprinting through the trees toward the west and center. "Spread out, eastward! For Narnia!"
Not quite understanding, the soldiers let out battle cries of their own and crashed through the underbrush. After a few minutes, Edmund called a halt. The instant their shouts died down, the western division started up again, seeming to come from all over.
"This is called a bluff, soldiers," Edmund said to his remaining twenty. "We're confusing the trolls so that they don't know where we're coming from—speaking of which, here comes our first target."
There was a troll coming toward them, a huge, hideous creature with gray-green skin and tusks curling from its bottom lip. The tusks dripped with green saliva—it was poisonous to anything that wasn't a troll. It had two thick tails and ten beady black eyes grouped in the middle of its forehead. It had a club in its hand. Why it bothered with the club, Edmund would never know—between its tails and limbs, it was already decently armed.
More trolls followed it. They had found the army. Edmund took a deep breath. "If you're under three feet tall, come see me now," he said quietly to his troops. Two mice, a chipmunk, and another rabbit came up to him. He knelt down.
"I need you four to take out the first couple of trolls, all right?" he said. "Kill the first one, the third one, and the fifth one you see. Be as quiet and as fast as possible. Drop them without warning. Try not to let anyone see you. Come back to me when you're done. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," they said, vanishing into the underbrush. A moment later, the first troll fell to the ground with a horrible shriek of surprise—a sound cut off almost as soon as it hit the forest floor. The others froze and tensed up, looking around for their attackers. The other two targets fell simultaneously. A call rose up among the survivors and the trolls began pounding their feet and clubs on the grass around them. They were too late. The little Narnians had already returned to their commander. Two more cries followed and Edmund smiled darkly; the western unit had felled their marks further back.
The woods were suddenly silent. The king frowned, trying to think of what his teacher could be planning next. He had no idea—all Poets thought differently.
"Excuse me, King Edmund," said one of the Poet fauns. "I think now would be a good time to drag our troops and snatch a couple trolls off the outskirts."
"Make them cluster?" Edmund said. "Good idea. Gather up a couple of the archers. Don't take out more than four. Make sure you scatter your men so they can't tell where you are."
"Of course," the faun said, scampering off.
There was another scream from the back line of trolls and the ones at the front turned their eyes to the treetops. So that's what the western line was doing. "Mice, go again," Edmund said. "Just take the one closest to us."
"Yes, King Edmund," the soldiers said, leaving once more.
A dog began howling on the western side. "Good idea," the King said. "Canines, join your brothers."
Edmund's dog and wolf began to howl as well—the dog was a Poet who, after nodding at Edmund, nudged the wolf and began to run, tearing through the bushes as she cried. A Poet faun behind her screamed "For Narnia!" and the entire western line heard and answered.
Edmund echoed the cry, signaling to his soldiers to spread out again. The sounds bounced off the trees and Edmund say a dryad leap from her tree, wink at him, and charge through the troll's ranks, making a long, chilling trill as she went. He grinned. He'd forgotten about the trees.
The trolls shouted in alarm and began to cluster up, moving together as a single unit. As soon as they were together, Edmund's treetop warriors released their first trap on the left wing of the group. Knives, swords, and loose branches cascaded onto the trolls, crushing several and injuring several others. The wolf and dogs howled again.
"CHARGE!" cried a troll from the center. "DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOU! STRAIGHT THROUGH THE WOODS AND DON'T STOP!" The trolls took off at a dead run. The Narnians cheered at their blind panic and picked them off the edges. The trolls in the front ran straight into Impera, who had stretched himself out as taut as he could manage. They tripped and sprawled into a pit of stakes the badgers of the army had managed to dig so quickly.
Edmund caught up with his ground workers as Impera slithered out of the path, slightly trampled under heavy troll feet. "There's…the first wave gone," he said weakly.
"Easy there, Warrior," Edmund said, patting the snake's head. "You pull back and rest. We can manage without you for a while."
"Edmund!" called one of Peter's fauns. "There are more trolls coming. What do we do?"
Edmund started—not Majesty, not Sire, not Sir, not Commander, not King Edmund. The soldier had called him Edmund. He grinned broadly and put his arm around the faun's shoulders. "Rinse and repeat, my friend. I'll take the lead this time."
"Peter! Peter!" Primplefeather cried. "The army has breached the woods!"
Orieus, standing next to Peter, winced. "They were in there for so long. I thought Edmund had succeeded in stopping them."
"He didn't say he'd stop them," Peter said quietly. "He said he'd lower their numbers. How many are there, Prim?"
"Two many to count at a glance. They're still coming out."
"If you were to guess."
"I'd say close to a thousand, maybe twelve or thirteen hundred counting the ones still in the forest."
"Tell Susan to fire one volley. Keep my ranks inside the gates. Inside, Prim. Tell them I'll be right down. Alert me again when all of the trolls are out of the forest."
"Yes, Peter," she said, flying off toward the archers. Orieus frowned.
"I don't think—"
"Please, Orieus, don't say a word." The High King closed his eyes. "He'll be all right. He has to be all right."
The centaur sighed. They walked toward the gates. "Twelve or thirteen hundred," he said softly. "This gives us a little more than a chance."
"Yes," Peter said with a small smile. "We can beat them now."
"Peter!" Primplefeather said, flying to him. "They're all out now, shouting something about sacking the castle before the army gets out of the forest."
Peter frowned. "The army? They can't possibly think the entire army is in Owlwood."
"It doesn't matter. They've got a battering ram. They're charging the gates. The castle's besieged!"
"We need to attack," Orieus said.
"No! We have to wait for Edmund's signal!"
The three fell silent as the High King whistled for a Horse. His usual mount, a rash young stallion named Jasil trotted up, nostrils flaring and swishing his tail. "You called, Highness?" he said sarcastically.
Peter rolled his eyes and mounted. "Aslan forbid you should ever retire for studwork, Jas," he said. "Imagine your children's attitude issues."
"Don't worry, Pete. You're stuck with me for a long time." He reared, nearly unseating the monarch, and galloped up to the army's head.
Peter held up his hand for silence; if the trolls thought they were still in Owlwood, he could use it to his advantage when the signal did come. Orieus caught up to him, jumping slightly at the sound of wood striking wood behind them. "Steady," Peter called out. "Prim, how long has it been since they started this?"
"Two minutes," the Jay said, landing on his shoulder with a worried shiver. "Susan's been firing at them the whole while, but I don't know how many the archers have dropped."
"We'll see when we open the gates."
"Three minutes…"
"Steady men! Come on, Edmund, what are you waiting for?"
"…Four minutes…"
"…Peter, it's possible he can't send the signal—"
"He'll send it, Orieus! Don't doubt him!"
"…Five minutes…"
"I don't doubt him. He had eighty men and they had three thousand. There's a chance that he's—"
"Orieus!"
"…six minutes…"
The cry of an eagle rent the air. The horrible sound of the battering ram stopped momentarily as all eyes were drawn to the skies. A trail of flame stretched from Owlwood to the center of Cair Paravel—an eagle carrying a torch in its talons. The eagle dropped fifty feet out of the sky before swooping up into a round climb. It formed a quickly-disappearing circle with a cross in the center before dropping the torch and diving to land on the ground.
"OPEN THE GATES!" Peter yelled. "CHARGE!"
The army roared and leapt forward as the gates opened, pouring out of this city and striking the trolls before they had the chance to figure out what had happened. Susan's archers continued to rain arrows on the ones in the back of the mass while Peter's army charged the front. The battle lasted about an hour, after which the remaining trolls turned and ran, taking particular care not to run back toward the woods. Peter gave his troops the signal to fall back into the castle.
"Woah, Jas," he said as Jasil turned around as well. "We're going into the woods to find Edmund's men."
"Aww, but I hate the woods," the roan said with a sigh. "You can't gallop through trees."
"We don't need to be galloping. We're searching."
"And you think you can get away without taking someone with you?" Came Orieus' steady voice from behind.
Peter flinched and turned around. "Hello, Orieus," he said. "Didn't notice you there.
"Obviously." He cocked his head as Peter sighed and urged his Horse into turning toward the castle. "Now did I say anything about going back?"
He perked up. Prim landed on his shoulder once again. "I explained everything to Susan. She's organizing the men while you're…occupied…and I'm coming with you."
"Come on, then. I'm tired of standing around," Jasil said, shaking his head. "Let's go find ourselves a King." They galloped toward the distant trees.
Thank you to...a whole lot of people. I didn't realize Odes would be this popular! Eavis, BabyBeaver, Shizuku, Alambil, Bartholo, GoldSilverLionFox, Amakurikara (a name I don't recognize, whoo hoo!), kissoftheblackrose, tag.0 (another newbie, welcome!), jjjc, grahamcracker, That Ella Loves (Another unfamiliar name; glad you're enjoying the story!), bethyhope (Hi and welcome!), and huffle-bibin! Thanks for reviewing. Hope you like this chapter, too!
