Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.
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The smirk on Vladimar's face was snaky, sly and malicious. He tilted his body and inclined his head. His eyes were like grape wine in the faint light, glittering like a reptile's.
Peter felt his muscles tense, his body leaning forwards as if already anticipating a hard fight. He angled his sword lightly, studying Vladimar intently. For a brief moment they both scrutinized each other, taking in each other's weaknesses and strengths.
Then suddenly without warning Vladimar flung himself forwards, a double sided sword appearing out of no where, and throwing itself against Rhindon. Peter raised his sword to block the attack and attacked back, the blade spreading out in a deathly, deadly sweep, narrowly missing Vladimar who reared back like a fire confronting water.
Peter did not hesitate and doubled his attack. Vladimar however slinked back and in a blur came up from behind Peter. Stunned and momentarily astonished Peter spun around lunging out with his sword. Vladimar saw his chance and jumped up attacking from above.
Peter raised his head and jumped out of the way landing on his side, his injured side throbbing painfully. Gritting his teeth, he leaped to his feet and bounced back like a quick hare as Vladimar advanced like a great serpent, his eyes flashing with hate. Peter ducked as he spun his two sided blade and jabbed harshly against his legs. Vladimar howled and clutched his leg, leaning over.
In an instant he recovered and raised his head, snarling like a rabid dog and swinging his deadly weapon from side to side, slashing cuts along the invisible air. Peter bounded back avoiding each and every blow. He smiled inside, satisfied. An angry enemy left many undefended weaknesses. He spun around and around, his lean, well muscled body graceful in its stealth.
Vladimar howled again. This time not in pain but in utter fury and threw the blade forwards almost as if it was spear. Peter had not anticipated this. And with amazing speed it sliced across his shoulder. Peter fell back. Without blinking an eye he lunged forwards, following the acute angle of his sword as it speared its way through Vladimar's upper arm.
But Vladimar himself was well trained and would not lose easily. He spun around, ducking copying Peter's previous move and wove his blade. Peter narrowed his eyes as he retreated back until he felt his back touch the wall behind him.
A hazardous feeling shot through him as he realized he was cornered. Aslan help me.
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'Edmund? Are you here?'
Isabela gently opened the door leading to Edmund's study and stepped in, glancing around, her emerald orbs seeking him. The study was large and spacious; it was well decorated but simple. The high ceiling was painted crimson red and the walls had a soft golden glow to them which was emphasized with the elegant lamps that hung at occasional distances on the wall. The polished furniture reflected the light, the desk, the chairs, the shelves all made of the darkest wood.
It was filled with books whose titles Edmund had probably never bothered to read. Edmund, himself, was no where to be seen. Isabela stepped forward hesitatingly and lightly fingered the books, her eyes taking in each and every detail.
The desk was strewn with papers, pens and quills. Black and blue ink was splattered in small dots on different parchments and Isabela caught a glimpse of Edmund's writing. And Peter's.
She stared at it surprised. Then she saw it was the letter they had received that morning. Her expression hardened and she turned away to leave but curiosity got the best of her. Isabela… She remembered that she had seen her own name on the letter. Had Peter mentioned her to Edmund? What had he wanted to say? Her feet stilled and she turned back, her hand automatically shooting out to grab the letter.
It was folded and creased and Isabela smoothed it open so as to make the words visible. She scanned the letter for her own name, the one she had seen that very morning. Ah, there it was.
We are just preparing to leave for the last village, Dryam, I believe. Pray that we achieve victory. It is going to be a hard fight and we are still short on soldiers. I almost wish that Isabela were here. Her prowess on the battlefield is most admirable. Aslan himself praised her skills as a warrior. I miss both of you of course.
I hope that Isabela is fine and that she was not injured in what you call your little occupations or what Susan referred to as your ignorant, annoying, stupid, idiotic detour in a variety of creative words and vocabulary that I am unwilling to mention in this letter. And in response to your letter I am very much worried about my 'beloved wife'. Take care of her, Ed. And of Susan and Lucy as well. May Aslan be with you.
Creak, creak. Startled Isabela darted away from the desk, hastily dropping the letter on the huge pile of papers.
'Lia?' Edmund's pale face appeared from behind the door, his expression confused. 'What are you doing here?'
Heat burned through her cheeks and colour tinged them making them almost rosy in the lamplight.
'Well….I…I…Susan….she…..she….uh…uh…..said to….said to.' Isabela swallowed, suddenly her voice was very, very faint and she faltered.
'Isabela, are you alright?' Edmund's voice was clearly alarmed and he took her arm.
'I'm fine. I…..'
She saw his eyes travel to the letter lying far away from its original position. He stared at it, his dark eyes piercing and judging. He did not glance up but a stern expression appeared on his face.
'Lia, did you sneak into my study to read Peter's letter without my permission?' he asked. Isabela stared blankly at him.
'I….I…. I'm sorry. I did not mean to…..'
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Edmund fighting the mischievous smile that spread across his face.
'So….' He teased. 'Love leads to concern…. Concerned about our tall, blond lover boy? Don't worry I'm sure he's fine.'
'I'm not concerned!' Isabela all but shouted, blushing greatly.
Edmund's eyebrows rose up disappearing under his dark hair but he remained quiet and said nothing.
'I have to go. You come to. Susan will be angry if we are late.'
She turned to leave almost tripping over the hem of her gown in her hurry to leave. As soon as she turned the door knob, Edmund spoke up.
'You know Lia… He may be a big jerk. But he really cares about those he loves. And he loves you. Thought he himself does not know it yet.'
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There was no way out. He was cornered and his death was steadily advancing on him. He wondered whether this was how the prey felt when the predator closed in on it, its fangs visible and gleaming. For certainly at the present moment. He was the prey and Vladimar the predator.
Vladimar knew that as well for even as he advanced he was not very quick and a taunting smirk spread across his face. He spun his blade along his side, relaxing his grip on it ever so slightly.
It was all Peter needed.
Time itself seemed to stop and Vladimar's smirk dissolved as Peter leaped at him, throwing the weight of his body against him. Vladimar's sword clattered out of his firm grip, spinning and spinning endlessly across the marble floor until it paused against the wall with a huge clang. Peter gripped his sword trying to get a clear aim as Vladimar struggled and writhed like a wild animal in a cage.
'Surrender and call of your forces. And you'll not be harmed.' Peter told him. Shock coursed through him when he saw Vladimar's sneer.
'I shall never surrender. It is you who should, little king.'
He raised his hand and his finger twirled themselves as if summoning something. And then Peter felt a blinding pain in his chest as something pierced him. Something sharp, something cold.
Gasping for breath he jabbed his sword against Vladimar drawing it through his side. It did not go anywhere near as deep as Vladimar's blade had gone. Weakness shot through him and he could feel his vision blurring.
Vladimar threw Peter off him effortlessly and his swords flew into his hand. For that instant Peter felt as if he had gone mad. The blade which had been in his backside only a moment before was now in Vladimar's bloodied hand. But no. It was reality. He was a sorcerer. Or a magician. That's how he had managed to win.
Peter closed his eyes knowing that he had less than zero chance to win. As his lashes flickered a memory came back to him. Of the only time when Edmund had managed to win over him. The sickening feeling he had felt at that moment came back to him as he remembered that day. But it was an excellent plan. One of Edmund's best.
He slumped against the wall, letting his body loose, all the tension flowing quickly out of him along with the blood that poured out of his wound. Rhindon cluttered down but not very far, just on his feet, propped up against his leg but out of his grasp.
He could feel the blood pounding through him and it took all of his effort not to open an eye and glance at Vladimar. His ears pricked up when he heard the low sound of feet as Vladimar stalked across the floor to him.
His shadow leaned over Peter and Peter knew that he was not sure whether Peter was unconscious or dead. Finally it seemed he reached his conclusion and Peter felt him fingers close around his throat. He struggled from flinching and remained lifeless. Vladimar leaned over him and said.
'It seems you have lost little king. I suppose Narnia shall be lost now. But don't worry, I'll make sure I capture it and take it for myself. Your siblings shall be grieved greatly from your death and your people shall mourn their great High King. And of course, young Isabela shall be a widow now.' He made a mournful sound, mocking him. Peter felt fury course through him at his words. 'But don't worry. I shall be merciful to them all.'
He laughed and raising his head emitted a sound somewhere between a scream, a roar and a laugh. Peter knelt down taking the hilt of his sword and quick as a panther he lunged, not wasting a moment. Rhindon flashed before him in the faint light, glittering and gleaming in a magnificent curve. Vladimar was still laughing in triumph his face wild and feral.
Rhindon ended it.
Vladimar himself did not realize what had happened and he was still laughing, choking over the blood that gargled from his mouth. Finally he understood what had happened and a snarl appeared on his face.
'I hate you!' he screamed. 'I hate you! You shall not live! Your house shall be destroyed, I swear it! I promise you, you shall die a death more painful than anything!'
'But why are you doing this?' Peter asked quietly. 'I do not know you. I have never fought against you.'
Death was grasping Vladimar now and his skin was turning inky pale, almost papery white. His expression was of loathing and venomous hate.
'You…..you killed my…..my sister.'
Peter's eyebrows shot up under his golden bangs. An expression of confusion crossed his face.
'Your sister?'
'Ja…..Ja…..'
And he spoke no more. His body glowed black and white and vanished entirely. Peter stared at it vacantly, his expression blank. He tried to stand up but his feet would not allow it and he fell back to the floor.
The room was spinning around him and the floor had vanished like Vladimar's body. Blind spots dotted across his line of vision and he knew no more.
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Isabela leaned against the steel railing, icy cold against her pale skin, as she breathed in the salty sea air of the night. Her head was nearly bursting with pain and there was a dull ache in her temples.
Hollowly she stared over the balcony lit dully with three floating candles. The night fell like a huge, thick blanket of darkness over the horizon and beyond. Far away she could see the glow of stars that dotted distantly the black sky. Suddenly her head burst with pain again and she nearly fell over.
Despite the turmoil she was in, her ears pricked up at the sound of rustling bushes. She glanced up, her eyes as wide as a startled animal's and narrowing her eyes she studied the gardens below.
Whispers. Sounds of shuffling feet. Alarm shot through her just as lightening bolted across the sky in the midst of a fierce storm. She half ran inside the room and hastily pulled on a velvet robe. Not an ideal choice but it would have to do.
Tripping over the hem of her robe she ran down the spiral staircase descending into a corner of the Great Hall, skipping two steps at a time. Ideas of how to best attack the intruders and thoughts flitting between rational and irrational flooded her. Probably these were not invaders. Perhaps they were the guards or any of the servants off for a detour. Or- it could be Edmund. But then again they were in the middle of a war and in war almost any intruder was an attacker.
She slipped over the marble floors, her pace quick but her stepping light and lithe as a cat's. It was a moonless night.
The gardens were lush and soothing as always. The trees murmuring, the leaves swaying to the lullaby of the crooning wind. The noise had stopped and Isabela could hear nothing however hard she strained to hear something, anything.
Finally she heard someone wave aside the bushes just around the corner of the main garden, towards the vegetable orchids.
In the darkness she saw a glint of a sword and her heart nearly dropped. They were armed. Silently she bent down all the while keeping her eye out for some attacker and grabbed the first rock lining the pathway that came into her reach. It was barely bigger than a pebble but it was all she had. She cursed herself for not bringing her sword or even a dagger or a knife from the kitchens.
She peeked around and saw a figure leaning against a tree, nearly in level with the ground. Apparently the moon was present though it was covered by large clouds because as soon as the shadowy figure tilted its head back and light fell on its features, she saw it was Edmund. Relief was numb in her because instinct insisted that something was wrong, seriously wrong. Why would Edmund be leaning on the ground of the gardens at night?
Then Edmund groaned and she hurried to him, kneeling against him.
'Ed! Are you…. What happened? Why are you here?' she whispered furiously. Edmund barely glanced at her but instead moaned more. Worried she scanned him for injuries.
So occupied was she that her guard was completely down and the rock she had been carrying, far out of reach and so she was caught completely unaware when somebody seized her from behind and dragged her off her feet. Suddenly she was dangling over and strong arms engulfed her. Fear seized her with its strong clutch that she could not throw off no matter how much she tried and she writhed against the person holding her, struggling and kicking.
She tilted her head to see who was grabbing her but then the moon disappeared behind the clouds. She had no weapon, nothing. She was in trouble.
'Ed! Ed! Help me!' Desperately she glanced towards Edmund who was by now standing up. She sought him wondering why he hadn't intervened.
To her horror she saw he was laughing. Laughing hysterically. It was not his familiar mischievous laugh it was not even an amused one. It was entirely frightening and scary and she stared at him momentarily frozen.
'Edmund! Are you insane? Why aren't you helping me?'
The grip became tighter and tighter against her and in the fright and panic of the moment the headaches returned, tugging at her furiously. She could barely see and her eyes were almost shut.
Edmund laughed back, leaning against the tree for support. She saw him shaking his head. She could not understand. Her mind could not comprehend what had happened. It was blank. Had Edmund betrayed his own family? He wouldn't.
She would not, could not accept it.
Suddenly the figure grasping her leaned against her ear, whispering something very softly.
'Are you actually afraid of me, Isabela?'
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Ta da! Another chapter done and finished! And so I will end this on the same note review please!
A. L. Potter