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 Fifty: Battle
Edmund cut down a Hag and then whirled, his twin blades spinning as he cut down two Goblins. Philip was nearby, kicking and biting, and his Wolves were somewhere in the fray as well. The sky above was darkening as night fell. A lumbering Ogre charged him.
"Edmund!"
Philip galloped over to him, the whites of his eyes showing. But Edmund did not hesitate. He flung himself into the saddle and dug his heels into the Horse's sides. Philip snorted and neighed then galloped forward with as much courage as ever. Edmund leaned forward, readying his swords. A Werewolf leapt only to fall when Shafhem bit into its chest and then Philip trampled it beneath his hooves with an angry squeal. But he did not slow. Edmund raised his swords and drove his secondary sword deep into the Ogre's gullet.
The Ogre fell, thrashing and screaming for only a moment as Philip shied to the side, out of danger of being struck by a flailing hand. Edmund raised Shafhelm, ready to face another enemy, but they were alone. The Fell were fleeing back north and to the west. They had broken at last.
Peter rode up just then, grimy and bloody. "Edmund!"
He pointed to the west and Edmund scowled to see a glow against the darkening skies that could only be fire. The Fell must have set the nearest villages and settlements ablaze. Then his gaze swept the battlefield. "We're going to have to divide our forces."
His brother nodded. "It's the only way. Thank Aslan that this has been a wet spring or else we would have an inferno on our hands."
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"Dame Sepphora! Dame Sepphora! The village is on fire! On fire!"
Alambiel looked up at the small Sparrow fluttering around the inside of her tent. "Have you alerted others?"
"No one listened! No one listened!" The Bird twittered and circled her head. "Almost every one in the village is a chick!"
"Where are the adults?"
"Killed! By the Fell! Hurry! Hurry! The chicks can't see me in the smoke!"
She had only come in to discard her armor before going to help with the wounded. Now she buckled her cuirass back on and snatched up a long cloth. "Show me."
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Screams filled the air, mingling with the smoke from the burning village, but they were distant and fading. Oreius tightened his grip on his swords, sheathed for the moment. Where was she? A burning beam fell to the ground beside him, making him shy to the side. He stumbled over something. A broken cradle.
Looking beyond the destruction and the burning houses, he could see the still bodies, some too small for their lives to be ended so soon. Where was she? "Alambiel!"
Another house groaned as the fire ate through its beams then, with a crack, it collapsed, sending flaming debris and sparks flying. Oreius hissed as a few embers bit into his unprotected skin. His armor was back at camp. He had to find Alambiel. Then he stiffened as he heard it.
"Oreius! Oreius, I'm here! I'm here!"
Alambiel. Oreius galloped forward and then leapt over a turned-over cart. There, in the middle of the village market. Alambiel was still wearing her armor but now she had a wet cloth draped over her head and covering half her face. She turned then started running to him. She reached out to him, slowing as they met near the village well. "Oreius." Her fingers caressed his cheek then she pulled the wet cloth aside. "There's no one left. They locked the survivors in the meeting hall and . . . There's no one left."
He reached for her, seeing the grief in her eyes at her perceived failure. "It is all right but we must leave now."
"Ye-" She gasped, eyes widening in shock as she brought her hands up to the bloody arrowhead protruding from high in the center of her chest. She looked back up at him, bloodstained fingers stretching toward him. "Oreius."
Then she swayed and crumpled to the ground.
"NO!" Oreius bent, intending to pick her up. The light hadn't faded from her eyes yet. There was time. He needed to get her to the healers. They could save her. A snarl echoed and a shadow loomed over him. He reacted, swatting the Werewolf away. The creature yelped, shaking its head before it retreated.
Oreius could hear the howls of more Werewolves. He had to hurry. Alambiel. Then a cold cruel voice laughed. "It's too late for her, Centaur. As promised, I have taken what you love most. I should have made Lew's Daughter suffer more but your suffering will suffice."
He stared at the shadowy figure then he scooped Alambiel into his arms again, being careful of the arrow. "Alambiel. Chéadsearc, hold on. Just hold on." But she didn't respond. Fear chilled him despite the heat of the surrounding fire. No, no, no, this could not be happening. "Alambiel. Look at me. Look at me!"
She didn't move. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was weak, so weak he could barely feel it brushing against his skin. "No. Alambiel, look at me. Alambiel!"
Cruel laughter rent the air, mocking his pain, his desperation as he desperately tried to keep his wife from bleeding to death. The arrow was high enough that it might not have delivered a fatal wound. If he could get her to the healers.
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Katana in hand, Markus crossed the battlefield. He knelt beside one fallen Narnian and rolled the Faun over. Dead. He started to rise when his eye caught on a peculiar mark on the Faun's neck.
Impossible. Nevertheless, as he examined the Faun's body, the more he saw that only one truth was possible. The soldier had been killed by magic. And, worse, the pattern was familiar. He had seen it before but the one who wielded it had died several years ago. A student.
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"Lucy! Over here!" Susan knelt beside a soldier. The huge Bruin was barely breathing as her sister came running, cordial in hand.
Susan rose, scanning the battlefield while holding an arrow ready to nock. She spied Edmund in the distance and Ardon was helping another Centaur carry one of their fallen comrades toward the camp. Everywhere there were healers and soldiers moving among the wounded and dead, sorting their people from the Fell. Peter had taken soldiers to put out fires to the north where the land was drier and still other soldiers fought the fires in the western villages.
The Bruin staggered to his feet and then bowed, uttering a sleepy "Your Majesties."
Lucy laughed and hugged him. Then she hurried off to help the next mortally wounded soldier. Susan did not follow right away. She let a sigh escape. She hated to take lives but it was for the defense of her people and her family. A groan escaped one of the bodies nearby and Susan rushed to the side of a Nymph archer. She helped the Naiad to sit up then yanked her cloak off and drew it around the other woman's shoulders. Looking around, she waved at one of the healers, a greying Satyr, who took charge of the Naiad.
Susan rose and began picking her way across the battlefield. So many dead. She hopped over a dead Werewolf with a grimace. She had not forgotten Brutus.
A shout went up. "Arms! Arms!"
She spun to see Markus racing toward them, his katana drawn. Behind him, she saw Fell creatures shimmering into being as a concealment spell was broken. She raised her horn to her lips and blew, sounding the alarm. Soldiers raced toward her and the horns took up the call, alerting others to the new threat. Susan loosed an arrow, taking down a Minoboar. By the Lion, would it never end?
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A/N: Please Read and Review!