Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Two: Withdrawal

Solemn dark eyes, unafraid of death, unafraid of him, gazed up at Markus. He grit his teeth. It must be done. He had killed before, so many times before, this boy, this Son of Adam would not make him falter. Markus, Markus.

He shuddered at the Voice that echoed through his memory. His hands tightened on the hilt of his katana. Another sly voice whispered through his mind. Slay them. Slay the Sons of Adam and your magic will be returned to you.

Markus once again dropped his gaze to the dark-haired king who was still sprawled over his elder brother's body. Had the effects of the last fireball not still been holding reign over his limbs and sapping his strength, Markus had no doubt that this former pet of Jadis would have hurled himself into him to protect his brother. That trait was one thing that bespoke the brothers' kinship despite their differing looks and temperaments. It should have disgusted him. Jadis had taught him all too well what came of daring to care for anyone…he could not remember the last time anyone had attempted to die for him. It was of no consequence. He had a mission. He would see it through and the Narnian Kings' deaths would restore his magic.

Meeting those solemn dark eyes again, Markus raised his katana high and then brought it down in one swift move that would neatly part the Just King's head from his shoulders. A Horse's squeal of anger was the only warning before a large chestnut Stallion barreled down on them. He jostled Markus, catching the katana with the meaty part of his shoulder before the metal discs studding his harness deflected it.

"No!" The Just King jolted up and was nearly kicked in the head for his efforts.

The Horse's attention was diverted as he wheeled to the side to avoid wounding his king further and Markus leapt back. He hesitated. The Horse was distracted as was the dark-haired king. He could kill the golden one. Killing the High King would surely fulfill enough of his mission to regain his magic. His fingers clenched around the katana's hilt. Killing him would not be a challenge. Helpless and weak as he was…

A howl split the air. "King Edmund! King Edmund!"

Markus looked up. Two grey blurs were barreling their way across the battlefield followed by a rider. He looked again at the High King. Then he spun on his heel and ran, fleeing with rest of the Fell. No, not fleeing. He never fled. He was merely withdrawing until he determined how to break the seal the Great Cat had placed on his magic.

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Edmund groaned as Philip nuzzled his face, barely brushing against the bloodied spot on his temple where his hoof had just clipped him and knocked his helmet askew. Howls filled the air. His Wolves, no doubt.

"King Edmund! King Edmund!"

Philip drew his head back with a disgusted snort as one of the Greyback brothers practically climbed into Edmund's lap. The Wolf's rough pink tongue dragged up the side of his face. Edmund grimaced. "Romulus-"

"I'm Remus, King Edmund."

"It hardly matters which of you it is," Philip interjected, glaring, "as long as you get off of the Kings. They are injured."

Before the Wolf could do more than step back guiltily, gazing up at Edmund with an utterly heartbroken look in his yellow eyes, pounding hooves drew up beside them. Kat's voice snapped a command, "Ptah, stop Romulus and then go for help. We'll need a litter."

Edmund heard low growls and he managed to turn his head enough to see both of Peter's Tigers looking at Kat. Kat swung down from Nahar's back, the black Horse having insisted that he carry the venerable Dame Sepphora into battle, and then tugged off the helm that had concealed her braided and pinned hair. She fixed the Tigers with a stern gaze. "Form a perimeter until Ptah returns with aid." She waited until Bast and Babur bowed their great heads and then strode over to them, slipping easily past Remus. She looked him over and then shook her head. "I swear the minute we let the two of you out of sight is when Murphy has a heyday."

"We were doing fine."

"Until you weren't," Kat interrupted drily. She frowned at him. "Think you can stand without falling on your face?"

Edmund snorted. "Of course, I can! It's Peter you should be worrying about." He carefully untangled his legs from his brother's, trying not to show his worry when the great lummox didn't even groan at the slight jostles he couldn't seem to avoid giving him. Pushing to his feet, he met Kat's watchful gaze with a slight smirk and then spread his arms- An agonizing flash of pain wrapped itself around his left hand and arm. His legs gave out and he would have fallen on his face if not for Kat catching him.

"Actually I think I should be worrying about you both. Nahar!"

The waves of pain licking up his arm made it difficult for Edmund to stay conscious but he still heard Philip's indignant snort. "Dame Sepphora, I-"

"Am wounded. And that wound looks nasty enough that you need to go to the healers too. Nahar, if you would oblige us by carrying Sir How to the healers?" Kat paused then tapped against his cheek. "Don't you pass out yet, Edmund."

"Amn't." Edmund retorted but his words sounded slurred even to his own ears.

Then a velvet nose nudged his shoulder gently and he looked up to meet Philip's worried gaze. "Let Nahar carry you, King Edmund." The chestnut Horse looked at the black and snorted. "Do not drop my boy."

The other Stallion huffed but said nothing as he held still so Kat could help Edmund clamber into the saddle without putting any more pressure on his wounded hand and arm. Edmund stared down at Peter who still hadn't moved. Kat patted his knee. "Don't worry, Edmund. You know Peter's hard head tends to keep him safe. Go on, Nahar."

Nahar's rocking gait wasn't as familiar or comfortable as Philip's and Edmund almost wished Philip was carrying him instead. But a single glance at the bloody wound decorating Philip's shoulder forbade such an idea and made him sick to the stomach. He should have taken care of the sorcerer. He should have stopped him before Peter was left vulnerable. He should have… He should have… The darkness he had been fighting since the pain first began to engulf his arm filled his vision. He just barely heard Philip's alarmed snort and the Wolves' yips. Then he knew no more.

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Alambiel sat in the Kings' tent, her chin propped on her hand, watching the brothers sleep. The Greyback brothers had snuggled against Edmund's sides as soon as they had crept in shortly after the other healers left. The burns to Edmund's left hand and arm weren't as bad as they had originally feared and it wouldn't take more than a fortnight or so for him to mend.

She straightened as the tent flap was swept back and the Kentauri entered, his dark gaze already fastened on the slumbering trouble-finders. "How are they?"

"Blessed." Alambiel arched an eyebrow when Oreius looked down at her. "Peter only has a concussion and bruised ribs to show for his encounter with the sorcerer and an Ogre while Edmund is burnt but not crispy, more of a light singe thanks to the protection of his glove and armor. Oh and he has a concussion and bruised ribs as well. The concussion he could have escaped if he hadn't sat up when Philip was in the middle of attacking the sorcerer."

"Will they be fit to travel in the morn?"

"No but that's never stopped them." She glanced at them then stood up and held her hand out. "Come on, we should let them rest. If they're going to be miserable tomorrow, they might as well be well-rested and miserable."

It was a very bad joke but finally Oreius cracked the slightest of smiles as he held open the tent flap, allowing her to leave first. She glanced back at him, trying not to feel a little off-kilter that he hadn't accepted the invitation to take her hand, but she reminded herself that they had agreed to maintain an air of professionalism while fulfilling their military duties just like other couples in the army. As they crossed the short distance to their own tent, Alambiel couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive. There was something about this that she was missing.

"Alambiel?"

She turned around and offered a wan smile. "Yes?"

The Kentauri caught her chin in his hand and gently forced her to look up at him. "What's wrong?"

"What did you see on the battlefield?"

"A great light and I heard Aslan's roar."

"I saw the same thing. The entire army probably saw and heard Him." She frowned slightly. "There's something different about the sorcerer. He could have killed Edmund and Peter both several times over before we reached him but he didn't. I wish I knew why."

Oreius was silent for a long moment then he flicked his tail. "Aslan's merciful providence or else the Fell sorcerer would have carried through with the attacks." He placed both hands on her shoulders, his dark eyes searching hers. "How did you fare, Wife?"

Alambiel smiled in spite of herself. "I'm fine, really."

Her Kentauri raised both eyebrows then looked her over critically. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." She turned around slowly, holding her arms out. "As you can see I have already removed my armor and freshened up." He chuckled but submitted the unspoken request that she be allowed to help him remove his own armor. She frowned slightly when she undid the straps of his armor and noted the bruises along his arms and shoulders.

"It is nothing."

"Uh-huh." Alambiel prodded a particularly large bruise and then arched an eyebrow when Oreius couldn't quite hide his flinch and the accompanying grimace. "Nothing at all." Rummaging through her healing kit (which she had left out and ready), she pulled out a soothing ointment and then pointed to the bed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

For a moment, she could tell the Kentauri was weighing the choices. And if a burst of laughter from celebrating soldiers hadn't filtered through the tent walls, he probably would have chosen the hard way. Instead, he kissed her hand and rumbled, "I will finish cleaning up and then I will submit meekly to your tender care, I promise."

She watched him stride over to the washbasin and then because she couldn't quite help herself, she murmured mockingly, "Guess you'll have to wait to find out what the hard way is, hmm?"

Oreius' chuckle filled their tent. "Minx."

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The battlefield lay before him, deserted save for the bodies of the fallen. He shifted his hooves uneasily. Something was very wrong. Picking his way past the slain Fell, he stopped short when he spied a familiar form. No. He galloped across the field and then dropped heavily beside the body. When he rolled her over, he looked into blue eyes that had lost their spark of life, eyes that stared blankly at him. No, no, not this. "Alambiel!"

Oreius jerked upright, his breathing harsh, and he barely suppressed a cry from escaping. They were no longer on the battlefield. They were in Cair Paravel. Alambiel was… He looked quickly, not relaxing until he saw her curled on her side next to him.

Laying back against the pillows, he rested his hand lightly on her shoulder but she stirred, rolling over to face him, as she murmured sleepily, "Oreius?"

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

At first he thought she might ask him what was troubling him but she only shifted closer, curling against him as she rested her head on his chest. He listened as her breathing evened out again and then he wrapped his arms around her. They had been home only for a scant two or three hours but they were home. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. There would have to be changes now that they were married. Alambiel needed more than just Ptah to protect her.

Resolved to the new course of action, Oreius closed his eyes. He would not leave any openings for an enemy to steal her away from him again. What happened last year had been too close, far too close. The note he had found on top of his papers flashed before him again: Don't think you can keep her out of my clutches, Centaur. He had not recognized the handwriting and had immediately cast the crumpled note away before Alambiel had come in and teased him about missing his paperwork. It was an empty threat, he told himself sternly, but he would lay down new layers of protection for his Alambiel. Stubborn as she could be about her own guards, she certainly needed at least one or two more.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, I successfully survived Real Life and my enormous NaNo project and now back to Narnia! And don't worry I have much, much, much more planned for this one. The next chapter should be chasing after Markus. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.