So. Many. Words. Okay, maybe I'm slightly dramatic, but this chapter is where the story really starts picking up speed. I suggest reading through slowly because a lot happens in a short amount of time. If it makes no sense...well, let me know and I will revise, because it is supposed to make some sense at least, unlike a few of the chapters in King's Bane. That being said thank you all for your lovely reviews! I am always thrilled to find both new and returning reviewers! You are the best! Also, shame on you Peter! I was rather cross with him during one section of this chapter, but then I added some nice fluff too, so hopefully that makes up for it!

"Peter? Are you awake?" Peter grumbled as he rolled away from the insistent voice. Had it been only a few hours earlier he had worried Edmund was not talking enough?

"I am now. What's wrong?" He reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking in the candlelight, and almost immediately forgot his annoyance. Edmund looked thoroughly miserable, cocooned in blankets from head to toe and still shivering in the cold air that drifted in beneath the walls of the tent. "Have you slept at all since we left the Cair?" Peter asked, rubbing the sleep from his own eyes and feeling rather guilty.

"What?" Edmund looked almost startled as he considered the question. "Oh, I'm not really sure; it's too cold to sleep very well. Listen, Pete, I'm worried about that woman we met on the moor."

Peter thought back to the stately lady and felt a hint of worry creep into his mind as well. "Do you think she's in danger, out there all alone, I mean? Do you think I should have sent some of the guards with her?"

His brother rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It isn't her safety I'm worried about. Didn't you notice anything odd about her?"

Peter tried to recall every detail of their all too short meeting. "She seemed very out of place in such a bleak land," he offered at last.

Edmund nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

"She belongs in a royal court, not wandering the moors alone. I wonder what her story is and what urgent business it is that drives her to travel alone in such a place and at such a time."

He completely missed the rather disgusted expression on Edmund's face. "That is definitely not what I was thinking. Peter, I'm telling you, there is something very unsettling about her. She seems familiar, like we've met her before."

With difficulty Peter restrained himself from throwing his pillow at his younger brother. "I think I would have remembered if I had met her before. Now for goodness sake, go to sleep!"

Edmund shook his head in defeat and blew out the candle. A moment later Peter heard the rustle of blankets followed by silence save for the sound of his brother's teeth chattering. Sighing Peter gathered up his own blankets and shuffled across the tent until he could lie down with his back against Edmund's and spread his own blankets over both of them.

He felt his brother's shoulder tense for a moment and knew that Edmund was debating whether he should punch him or simply accept the gesture of goodwill. "Peter, I swear if you start snoring I will throw you into the next snowdrift we find," he groused, but the tension left his shoulders and his shivering slowed and eventually ceased altogether. Peter himself was somewhat colder and less comfortable than he could have wished but it was well worth the discomfort to know that Edmund would sleep, at least for one night.

It was the music that woke him; strange, wild strains that pierced his dreams and continued, even as he woke. Peter blinked and looked around him; the light was strange, the odd, muted light of a very early morning before the sun has risen and the air was bitterly cold. Edmund was still asleep beneath the pile of blankets, and Peter cautiously untangled his own limbs and reached for his boots. The music continued, soft and compelling, as he slipped silently from the tent and out onto the frost covered moor.

He did not know how long he walked but eventually he came upon a cluster of trees near a crystal stream and beside the stream stood the lady they had met the previous day. It was she who had made the music, for in her hands she held a finely carved harp. She set the instrument aside gently as Peter approached and curtsied beautifully; he bowed, suddenly feeling very clumsy.

"Dear king! It is an early hour to be walking upon such cold and wild moors." She spoke with the same strange, musical accent as she had the day before and her smile was dazzling.

"I heard your music; you-you play beautifully, my lady," Peter stammered, feeling very foolish indeed.

She laughed and tossed her head; the rising sun glinted off her copper hair turning it to blazing red for the briefest moment. "Your majesty is too kind! It is but a simple and very old tune and played by one with little skill." Somehow Peter found himself standing so close to her that he could smell the faint scent of apple blossoms which seemed to cling to her hair. Her eyes were very green; as green as the fabric of her dress.

He was just opening his mouth to speak; to say he knew not what when-

"Peter!" Edmund's shout cut through the stillness of the morning and seemed to shatter it. Peter blinked, suddenly confused to find himself alone beside a stream. He turned to see Edmund and Trebonius, the captain of the guards, running towards him. "What the devil are you doing out here?"

Peter blinked again and shook his head, suddenly dizzy; his head was aching. "I-I'm not sure. I must have been sleepwalking." He looked back towards the stream and thought he saw a flash of green among the bare trees, but he couldn't quite remember why that should be important. "Let's go back to camp; it's freezing out here."

Edmund frowned in the direction Peter had been looking but he saw nothing and offered no argument. It really was freezing, and no one wanted to stand around on the moor in the dim light of dawn any longer than they had to.

All through that day Peter could not quite shake off the strange feeling that he had forgotten something and it made his temper unusually short. The rest of the party seemed just as affected, whether it was due to the cold or the High King's bad temper. When they stopped at midday to eat and rest their horses scarcely anyone spoke and even Lucy had ceased to smile.

Everyone was unreasonably cross and small quarrels and fights broke out quickly. Before they could set out again they heard a distant thudding sound which seemed to frighten everyone, especially the Animals. First the Dogs became so agitated that they began baying incessantly and would not stop to tell anyone why, and then the horses in the troupe, all save Philip who was far too clever and loyal to Edmund, became frantic and, breaking their tethers, scattered in every direction across the moor.

"SILENCE!" Peter bellowed, covering his ears with his hands and wishing he could so easily block out the nauseating headache building behind his eyes. The Dogs fell silent with a few whimpers and everyone else stopped where they were, some with weapons half drawn in alarm and others turning to pursue the horses. The distant thudding too had fallen silent. Every eye turned to him and Peter suddenly wished they hadn't; his head hurt abominably. "Please, everyone, remain calm. Dogs, what is the meaning of this cacophony?"

The pack leader, a sleek grey wolfhound, tilted his head as if trying very hard to understand. "If it please your majesty, what is cacophony?"

Peter nearly howled in frustration. "The level of noise you and your fellows were just engaged in certainly qualifies. Now, tell me, what is the meaning of this?"

The hound hung his head. "We scented something."

"And heard something!" A sheepdog offered helpfully.

"And what did I tell you not yet a full day past, good cousin?"

The Dog shifted his paws nervously. "That perhaps next time we did so we should be less vocal in our warning."

"Precisely; it seems there is nothing wrong with your memory, only with your ability to follow orders!" He turned away to find Edmund watching the exchange with an unreadable expression and immediately regretted his loss of temper, though he was not about to admit it. He was about to say something rather derogatory about the nature of Dogs when a rock sailed over his head and crashed into a tangle of heather and gorse a few feet in front of him.

Edmund's eyes widened in alarm and that was the only warning Peter had before the younger king tackled him, sending him crashing to the ground a split second before another rock passed through the space so recently occupied by his head. Edmund rolled to his feet and drew his sword. Peter rose with slightly less grace; though Edmund had undoubtedly just saved his life he was thoroughly winded by the impact with the stony ground. The earlier sound had returned and redoubled in volume as it drew closer. He blinked away the dancing specks before his eyes and at last saw the source of the rocky projectiles and of the noise.

A pair of giants were thundering towards them over the rough ground. Each carried an armload of rocks and both were tall as apple trees and terribly ugly to look at. These giants were nothing like their gentle Narnian cousins; their heads were misshapen lumps set atop thick necks and broad, twisted shoulders; their arms were far too long for the rest of their bodies, and their knuckles almost brushed the ground as they lumbered forward on their unevenly long legs. Peter might have laughed at the spectacle they made if they were not so actively engaged in hurling rocks towards the small group of Narnians.

"To arms!" Shouted Trebonius, rather unnecessarily. "Protect the kings and the queen!" With a sinking heart Peter met Edmund's eyes and realised they were both thinking the same thing.

"Where's Lucy?" Edmund shouted as another rock crashed into the ground a few feet away. The giants really did have the most terrible aim. Peter shook his head and frantically scanned the shifting mass of confused and frightened creatures for the glint of Lucy's fair hair. When he saw it, his heart sank further still; Lucy was darting through the guards almost unnoticed, but rather than running away from the giants she was running towards them. In the confusion of flying rocks, baying Dogs, shifting hooves, and thunderous footsteps Peter knew there was no chance she would hear him. There was little chance anyone else would either.

The giants were nearly upon them now, though they seemed to have run out of rocks. They hesitated, seeming confused by their sudden lack of weapons, before they stooped slightly and pulled up two saplings by the roots. The trees were taller than Peter and sturdy enough to make very serviceable clubs.

Peter shoved his way through the ring of guards, desperate to reach Lucy before she reached the giants. "LUCY!" He shouted her name until his throat felt raw but she seemed not to hear him above the general uproar. Out of the corner of his eyes Peter saw Edmund slip between two fauns and dart around to the side of the nearest giant. Peter himself was still too far away to be of much help and even as he pushed his way free of the ring of guards Lucy stopped before the giants and seemed to be calling out to them, as if attempting to reason with them.

"LUCY!" At last she heard him and turned her head, a slightly confused expression on her face. At that very moment the nearest giant swept his arm up, tree club in hand, as if to strike at Lucy. Then he shrieked and dropped the tree, flailing his arms wildly and howling in pain. As the giant's arm had swept by him Edmund leapt forward and caught it, stabbing him through the fleshy part of his forearm with his sword. The sword had caught between the two bones in the giant's arm and Edmund, unable to let go of the hilt in time, now found himself clinging to the giant's arm for dear life as he howled and flailed about. Inevitably he struck his companion in his frenzy and the two giants seemed to forget all about the Narnians in favour of brawling with each other.

Peter caught Lucy by the arm and pulled her away from the fighting giants, half shoving her at terrified Trebonius before turning back towards the giants. Edmund had somehow kept his grip, both on the giant's arm and the sword, though his face was ashen and Peter knew he could not hold on to either for much longer. No one seemed able to get close to the them; the force of their footsteps shook the ground like small earthquakes and anyone who came close near their balance and fell as the earth shook. Peter found himself sprawling on the ground staring up at the two giants as they grappled with one another.

"Edmund! Let go, you fool, you'll be killed!" But if Edmund heard Peter's shout he did not obey the order. He tugged determinedly at the hilt of the sword until at last it came free with a spray of blood. The giant howled in rage and pain and Edmund, whose grip was greatly loosened by this point, found himself tumbling through the air to land, winded and bruised, in a clump of heather.

The giants, who at this point were both terribly distressed by their injuries, began lumbering off, howling at the top of their lungs and shoving each other as they went. Peter scrambled to his feet at the same moment as Lucy broke free from Trebonius' hold and stumbled, shaken but unhurt, towards Edmund.

The king in question was already picking himself up, looking rather dazed and covered in blood. Lucy reached him first and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him back over.

"I'm so sorry, Ed! I'm so sorry! I thought-I thought, maybe I could talk to them and explain that we were friends!" She sniffled and buried her head in Edmund's shoulder.

"It's alright, Lu," he said, rather breathlessly. "You couldn't have known it wouldn't work. These giants aren't like the ones we have at home." Lucy nodded, though she didn't raise her head.

Peter wasn't sure if he wanted to shout at them or hug them. He settled for putting a hand on Edmund's shoulder and wrapping his other arm around Lucy. "Are you alright?" He asked, directing his question at both of them, but hoping he made it clear by his tone that the question was more for Edmund.

Lucy nodded and Edmund smile wearily. "I wouldn't recommend being tossed around by a giant, but yes, just a few bruises."

Peter scowled skeptically. "You both could have been killed!" He wanted to be angry, but the relief he felt that they were all still alive took the force from his words.

Edmund grinned at him over Lucy's head and echoed what Peter himself was thinking. "But we weren't." His face paled as he gently disentangled himself from Lucy's embrace. "Although I think perhaps I should sit down."

Peter wrapped an arm around each of them as they stumbled back to the rest of the group, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Aslan. They were alive and for a moment the echo of the Green Lady's music faded from Peter's mind and his headache eased.

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Cheers,

A