Ambushed

"This is it."

The company came to a grateful halt. Riders pulled on reins and foot soldiers curled and uncurled their toes to encourage the blood to flow again. Only the Centaurs in the group didn't seem to mind that they had been marching since noon without a moment of rest – Peter insisted it would be better to reach the fortress whilst it was still light to avoid ambush. No one had dared argue - they could sense his mood deteriorating every time he glanced over at his brother and saw Zia riding by his side. Edmund had spent most of the journey with his eyes on her instead of where he was going.

This was the first time Zia had seen the fortress from the outside. The wall facing the small army was constructed from jet black stone. The huge doors seemed closed tightly enough to have not been opened in years. Aside from the foul stench of rotting meat there was nothing to suggest that the place was inhabited. Behind the fortress rose the mountains of Ettinsmoor, half cast into shadow by the sun's dying rays. They were still a long way off but the stronghold somehow seemed menacing. Beyond them lay the Wild Lands, where none of the company had ever ventured. They did not trust the countries north of the Narnian borders – it was rumoured that Giants and other foul things tramped across the barren wastelands behind the mountains.

Peter studied the southern face of the fortress with a grim expression. As the light began to fade, the ramparts became thick with guards. The company lingered some distance away behind the relative safety of a ridge topped with a scattering of coarse bushes. For how long they would remain thus, Peter couldn't guess. He had been through enough dealings with Minotaurs and their comrades to know they weren't as stupid as they looked. There remained the disturbing thought that they would be spotted and surrounded before dawn.

Motioning to Edmund, Peter descended from his horse and the two brothers went aside from the rest of the group. "It was a mistake to come here with darkness so near at hand," Edmund said in a low voice.

"I realise that now," Peter admitted. He cast a worried glance at the scurrying black shapes that seemed to have swarmed the entire fortress like ants on an anthill. "But we can't tell everyone to turn back. What kind of leadership would that demonstrate?"

"We won't be safe as long as we stay here. Our position is far too out in the open for my liking. But I agree there can be no turning back. A retreat may not go unnoticed. Perhaps I could take a small group away to scout around the area?"

"They would kill you on sight," Peter said grimly. "No one goes anywhere tonight. If we send a party forward to the fortress it's most likely they'll be shot before they're three feet away from us. We have to remain under cover as well as we can until morning."

Edmund shook his head. "I don't like the idea of waiting here all night one bit. But I suppose we have little choice. We're too far from the cover of trees."

"Send word to the troops they are to rest and set up a watch. Our eyes must be kept on our enemies at all times."

The atmosphere surrounding the soldiers was one of tense disquiet as horses were unsaddled and bed rolls were laid out on the grass. No one dared speak in tones above a whisper, if they needed to speak at all. No fires were lit; the evening meal was cold and disheartening. Afterwards the Fauns hastily huddled beneath their blankets to ward off the chill that had little to do with the temperature. Even the Centaurs were uneasy; they stood in a large group and kept their eyes warily on the sky, their tails swishing. Occasionally they sent nervous glances towards the peak of the ridge over which the ominous walls loomed. The rest tried to ignore the tangible presence of evil, but they may as well have tried to ignore the sound of their own troubled heartbeats in their ears.

Zia and Tigran took the third watch when night had descended and darkness hung all about them. The fortress would have completely blended in with the shadows if it had not been for the burning torches set at regular intervals along the ramparts. The uneasy rustling of bodies tossing and turning on the rough ground seemed to echo disconcertingly in the stillness. The two Dryads crouched near the top of the ridge, angling themselves so as to get as clear a view as possible through the hedge.

"I'd wager they keep a particularly close eye on this place," Tigran muttered. "Even brutes like them surely could not be so stupid as to leave such an obvious defence point for attackers unguarded. If it were up to me we'd have marched right up to the gate hours ago."

"Edmund and Peter know what they're doing," Zia told him. His negativity was making her uneasy. "I know it's not easy for you, but please trust them."

Tigran's tone suddenly became bitter. "Despite the outward similarities we are two separate races as different as night and day. Our relationship with the Kings and Queens goes no deeper than alliances in times of great peril."

Zia turned away from him. "I know what you're trying to say and I'm telling you not to waste your breath. I've made my choice."

"You choose to go against your very nature?" Tigran demanded. "When was the last time you walked barefoot among the roots of trees? When was the last time you slept in their boughs or sheltered from the wind in their hollows?"

"Stop it."

Tigran gave a violent shake of his head. "This isn't right, Zia. You and I both know that if you had never got yourself mixed up with these Humans you would have never been captured." He paused and dropped his voice. "And maybe Breejit would still be alive."

"You have no right to tell me what I should and should not do!" she hissed.

"I'm only asking you to consider your options. It doesn't take a prophet to see that you're not happy in your current situation."

"Our watch is over," she said curtly, getting to her feet. Her hand moved to her throat; the shape metal was familiar against her fingertips but did little to ease the tension in her stomach. She turned away before Tigran could see the shadow of doubt flit across her face and stalked down the hill to wake the next watchmen.

A cool breeze drifted down from the mountains and swirled searchingly around the fitfully sleeping soldiers, nipping and scratching and working its way under blankets until a good portion of the party was awake and grumbling. Several of them reached around to remove small rocks that had become embedded in their backs and some scratched at the tiny bugs that were indulging in a midnight snack on their heads and arms.

Edmund was one of the first to fully recover his wits. He made his way up the side of the ridge to peer through the bushes, one hand lightly caressing the hilt of his sword. The two watchmen on the ridge were huddled close together, their eyes wide though they tried to mask their discomfort. Edmund relieved them of their duty seeing as there were now plenty of eyes anxiously scanning the surroundings. A figure crept up on his right side and he started before he realised who it was. Tigran had been unable to get much rest since returning from his watch; the general aura of the place made him restless.

"There is great evil here," he commented, gazing out in the same direction as Edmund. "Perhaps greater than you anticipate."

"Meaning?"

Edmund's clipped tone seemed to go unnoticed. Tigran's voice was low and husky and he didn't look at Edmund as he spoke. "These creatures once served the White Witch. I have heard rumours that she is not truly vanquished, but is merely gathering the scraps of her power and biding her time. It has been said she is preparing to return."

Edmund was glad the darkness hid his shudder. "These are only rumours," he said in his best businesslike voice. "We can't go around believing whispers bred from fear."

"It may yet be many years before she is powerful enough to resume solid form," Tigran continued regardless. "But the creatures that were once loyal to her will do anything that might aid her. Also…" He paused, watching Edmund from the corners of his eyes. "The rumours say they have received instruction to kill you and your family. I believe they have already made an attempt on your life."

Edmund's hand automatically closed around the hilt of his sword. The comfort and familiarity of the movement was lost amongst his racing thoughts. He began to have serious doubts about the sanity of Peter's plan to arrange a truce with the remnants of the White Witch's army. If they were granted entrance to the fortress they would instantly become sitting targets.

"We have to draw them out," Tigran was saying, "Lure them from their hiding place and fight them on open ground. When the fortress is unguarded that will be our chance to search it for any trace of the Witch."

"Why should I believe you? How do I know these are not all lies that come from your mouth?"

"Edmund!"

The shout pierced the still night and suddenly everything was chaos. Calls for arms and the dreadful screech of swords hastily drawn from scabbards were drowned out by a tremendous roar. A terrible dark shape hurtled out of the blackness; it snorted and bellowed and made wild grabs for the troops as they scrambled to escape its crushing feet.

The Minotaur towered above the carnage, taller than any creature that had ever been seen in Narnia. The entire expanse of its torso was covered with sheets of tough leather and metal, forming a sort of crude breastplate. Its legs and forearms were clad in a similar fashion. It carried no weapon and all Edmund could think as he stared transfixed at its huge, thickly muscled frame was that he didn't much like the idea of avoiding devastating blows from an axe five times as large as those of the regular-sized Minotaurs. Judging by this Minotaur's shabby overall ensemble and lack of defence, it appeared it had been sent out in a hurry. At least they had managed the element of surprise, although that didn't seem to matter much anymore.

Edmund spotted Zia trying to herd some of the Dryads to safety whilst simultaneously loading her bow. The Fauns and Centaurs who were armed formed hurried ranks and prepared to charge the beast, but a cry from Peter held them still. Edmund and Tigran rushed to join their respective kinsmen as the Minotaur lurched and tossed its great head from side to side.

"It's looking for something!" cried a voice.

"Or someone!" another helpfully added.

"Hold your ground!" Peter bellowed as some closest to the beast tried to surreptitiously shuffle backwards.

Edmund watched the Dryads regroup and take up vantage positions on the ridge. Tigran was in the front line, his hand raised ready to give the signal. The Minotaur had not yet shown any signs of attack, although it turned its head at Peter's shout as though it recognised his voice. Its yellow eyes glinted amidst its shaggy fur and it gave another earth-shattering bellow that caused even the most resolute of the warriors to clap their hands over their ears.

"What's it waiting for?" Someone voiced the question on everyone else's minds.

"We should kill it now!" Edmund called towards his brother.

"I will not be the first to attack!" Peter shouted back. "It may not intend to harm us at all."

It seemed everyone but Peter heard the folly in that statement. Edmund glanced at his brother and saw only the hard lines of Peter's impassive profile. Blowing steam from its nostrils, the Minotaur swung its whole body in the direction of Peter. Several ranks were forced to stagger back, resulting in a brief confusion during which the Minotaur finally leapt.

The great beast barrelled straight into the front line, knocking most of it to the floor and prompting the ranks behind to rush to their comrades' aid. The strength of the Minotaur was unrivalled by almost half of their small army. Many were crushed by its powerful hooves and it suffocated many more with its meaty hands. No one could get close enough to its stampeding feet to drive their swords through its coarse fur. The volley of arrows sent by the Dryads on the hill seemed merely to annoy it until one well-placed arrow struck home right in the centre of one huge yellow eye. The bellow of pain was loud enough to split the bark of the trees at the edge of Western Wood several miles away.

Now that it was blind in one eye and disorientated from the pain, the Minotaur's hooves became treacherous, flailing wildly as it tried to prevent itself from falling under the wrath of the next rain of arrows. It rushed forward a few paces, tripped and teetered sideways in an almost comical way before raising its imposing fists and making another swipe for the infantry. Several were knocked off their feet and sent flying into the air. The movement seemed to further impede the Minotaur's ability to stay upright and it pitched forwards so that the foremost ranks narrowly avoided being impaled on its wicked horns.

"Unbalance it as it tries to stand straight!" Edmund commanded, rolling to his knees after diving out of the way of the beast's head.

"Aim for its head and chest!" Tigran ordered the archers.

The next arrow barrage succeeded in causing the Minotaur to topple backwards and it was instantly surrounded by the remaining soldiers who could still stand. The beast roared and thrashed but somehow they managed to climb its fur and stab their blades repeatedly into its great muscled chest through the gaps in its poorly-fashioned armour. It gave one last shudder that caused its passengers to sprawl on their faces and was finally still.

Zia barely remembered what happened next. There was a scramble to gather the wounded and the Dryads and able Centaurs set about doing what they could to heal them. Having only basic knowledge in this area, Zia found she was of little use. Instead she hurried to scrape together a few ingredients to make a rudimentary type of herbal tea. It had no kind of healing power, but it was better than nothing. Once it was brewing in a pot over a small fire, she picked her way over prone bodies and healers crouching beside them and went to find Edmund.

Having been in the front line of the fight, Edmund had suffered a deep gash to the leg and several nasty bruises. He lay on his back whilst a healer bent over his profusely bleeding leg and pushed him down every time he tried to sit up and insist it was only a scratch.

"Sometimes I think you're too heroic for your own good," Zia said, kneeling beside him. She winced when she saw the wound. "That looks painful."

"It's nothing," Edmund said, although a whimper escaped between his clenched teeth when the healer wiped at the edge of the cut with a cloth. "You're not hurt, are you?" he asked her with concern.

"I'm fine. Honest, look." She showed him her arms when he didn't look convinced. Aside from her face and arms being covered in scratches from their rapid ascent of the ridge she was unhurt. "You guessed we would be ambushed, didn't you?"

A pained expression crossed Edmund's face that had little to do with his injuries. "I should have insisted Peter take us to safer ground."

"Don't start blaming yourself," said Zia, taking his hand carefully between both of hers. "It's because of you and Peter that so many of us are alive. You kept your heads when faced with a creature of a race that causes enough trouble without being oversized."

"They know we're here," he said gravely. "I doubt it will be long before they send more soldiers out to drive us away or kill us where we stand."

"We wouldn't stand a chance against a second attack in our current state," Zia agreed. "They're not going to give us time to assemble a proper army or to organise a counter-attack."

At that moment, Peter materialised at the shoulder of Edmund's healer. He appeared to be unharmed save a slight limp, and when they asked about it he flatly denied it was anything serious.

"We must retreat as soon as enough men are able to walk," he said to Edmund. "The horses we had have all fled save Philip and Seren. They cannot carry all of the wounded and the dead back to Cair Paravel. We must leave the bodies here, and those who can use their legs must carry those who cannot."

"We will not be left to retreat peacefully," Edmund pointed out. "A couple of Fauns have reported signs of an army being assembled by the front gate of the fortress. They will be sent after us as soon as our backs are turned."

"What other choice do we have?" Peter exclaimed. "If we retreat we'll be followed and if we stay we'll be slaughtered. I'd rather give my men the slimmest chance of survival than order them to stand around and await their deaths."

"I have an idea," Zia offered. The two arguing Kings seemed not to hear her. In fact, they had all but forgotten her presence as they wracked their brains for a plan that wouldn't involve the imminent massacre of the survivors. She released Edmund's hand and stood up. The kettle would have boiled by now.

The tea she offered was accepted gratefully. As she went round handing it out she bumped into Tigran and almost upset the kettle. He took one look at her face and said, "We cannot leave it up to them to decide what to do."

Zia rolled her eyes and started to turn away. Tigran grabbed her arm. "Let me guess, they're trying to decide whether fight or flight would be the best option?"

Zia said nothing.

"Look Zia, I've had my fair share of experience in battle. I'm older than you think I am. In fact I was among the warriors who faced Jadis when she first became a threat to Narnia."

Zia blinked in surprise but still she kept her mouth shut.

"Dryad warriors trust and respect me; they would be glad to follow through with any plan I present to them so long as it is reasonable." He peered closely at her face. "Something tells me you have an idea to take this matter into your own hands."

"I just thought that a few of the Dryads could strike out for the fortress and attempt to reason with the inhabitants as was the original plan, if only to provide a distraction for them and to give Peter a chance to call for reinforcements."

"When you say 'the Dryads', do you include yourself?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want to risk getting on Peter's bad side again and I need to stay and look after Edmund."

Tigran looked at her from under his eyelashes, his eyes glinting. "It seems you're not quite everything I was told you are."

"What? What were you told I was?"

He nonchalantly dug his big toe into the grass and looked up at the paling sky. "The Zia I was told about would already be knocking on the front door by now."

Zia's cheeks flushed with heat. "That would be foolish."

He grinned again, flashing a set of straight white teeth. "Quite. But not if I was there with you."

She studied him for a long moment, working out the implications of what he was saying. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the spot where Edmund lay. Peter was beside him and they both looked tense; apparently they had not come to a conclusion about what was to be done. Each minute that ticked by brought the threat of another attack creeping steadily closer. Zia knew she could not sit by and do nothing when she could at least make an attempt to save the remaining soldiers' lives. They too bore anxious expressions and it was clear they knew the extent of the jeopardy they were in as long as they remained where they were in so few and damaged numbers.

Her fingers curled around her bow and she fixed Tigran with a determined stare. "Alright, let's try."

They stole silently away in a group of six. By the time anyone noticed they were gone they were but faint specks marching doggedly towards the heavy doors of the fortress.

"By the Mane," Peter groaned, dropping his head in his hands. "What silly idea has that girl got in her head this time?"

"What?" Edmund demanded upon hearing his brother's sigh. He tried to sit up but the loss of blood combined with the medicine he'd been administered made his head woozy.

Peter turned to look at his brother despairingly. "It seems Zia has finally gone mad. She and five other Dryads are headed for the fortress."

Edmund slumped down onto the ground and pressed his palms into his eyes. "Of all the…" He suddenly looked up. "Can we not stop them?"

"They are too far away," Peter informed him. "I dare not draw any more attention to them lest we are all killed."

"She wouldn't walk straight to her death just to be considered a martyr," Edmund mused. "She must have a specific purpose in mind."

"I'm willing to bet all the collective attention inside that fortress will be focused on them. If they let them live long enough to allow them inside it may buy us enough time to make a retreat."

"If we retreat we sacrifice them to their deaths. You know I won't allow that."

"We may not have enough time to gather reinforcements. It would be no use storming that place without several thousand troops at hand."

A determined hardness set Edmund's features. "We have to at least give them a chance." He put a hand to his forehead. "Besides, whatever's in this medicine is making me dizzy. I won't be fit to ride for at least another half hour."

Knowing full well Edmund would find some way to ride were he only half conscious, Peter shook his head. "Why can you not just do as you're told?" he cried with fond amusement. Edmund grinned in reply.

They both looked back towards the fortress just in time to see the huge doors close with a bang that was audible even across the half-mile distance.

"I just hope she knows what she's doing."

A/N: Just to say a HUGE thank you to anyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited this story so far. You guys are awesome! And to all of you who are silently reading and hoping I won't notice you haven't left a review, I know where you live.

Seriously, it doesn't have to be much. It can be one word if you like. Reviews make me a very happy bunny. Please?