Thank you so much for the reviews! You have all been so faithful! Justplaincrazy8, Autumnia, Tonzura123, ProdigiousDiscourse, Shadowed Night Sky, rolletti, LunaNigra, Shizuku Tsukishima749, Dazed . in . Life, and Wildfire2, thank you so much for your kind comments!
I apologize for the wait! I have been writing, really, but the only outcome is that I've become spectacularly good at starting new projects and even better at leaving them unfinished. If I can manage to complete them though, several new chapters and possibly a new story should appear relatively soon.
For now, please enjoy!
This chapter is dedicated to Shadowed Night Sky as she asked for an appearance from Philip. :)
Chapter 11: Philip
It wasn't entirely unheard of.
Rare, certainly, but not impossible. However, most were tales of little importance. Abusive hermits, snarling wenches, and occasionally a naïve child.
None held such repercussions. For instead of an unmarked grave or a grieving family to leave behind, Philip, in his carelessness, would have an entire kingdom to face.
Not only that, but how would he possibly manage to explain to three very possessive siblings how he had 'misplaced' Edmund the Just, King of Narnia.
To say he had intentionally done so would have been preposterous. A small part of his mind whispered that he might have such accusations to deal with from the more passionate members of court. Another part of him proclaimed that the day wasn't over just yet and already he was losing hope.
Though the emotional side of him wanted to listen to the first voice, the rational part of his brain took control. Running the day's events though his mind for what could only be the fiftieth time, he searched for anything he might have missed, some lost clue that would explain the absence.
The morning had begun simply. A great hunt had been announced to provide food for the harvest feast. The forest had been carefully sectioned off; making certain that no talking animals would be in the forest while the court searched for the day's meal.
Mushrooms, berries, wild herbs, and nuts were gathered by fauns accompanying Queen Lucy. Philip remembered the chirping of nymph's voices as they flitted through the trees on their petal toes. Beavers, foxes, leopards and squirrels pointed out the most tender roots, hopping from grove to grove.
King Peter, King Edmund, and Queen Susan had gone along for the morning but after the noon meal of crusty bread and fresh cheese wedges, they split from the group. King Peter claimed, with a cheeky smile, that they would search out the actual meal.
Philip allowed King Edmund to climb onto his back and then he trotted towards Stelia, the Unicorn that looked after King Peter.
The forest was cool and King Edmund had forgone the usual packs that were apparently necessary for sons of Adam to strap onto the saddle, opting instead for a light blanket and a small water sack.
At first they traveled at a smooth pace, moving steady into the cool boughs of the forest. Slowly the dryads and wood fairies began to drift off, the woods growing quiet and dark.
The steady beat of his hooves striking the soft ground and the crushed pine needles beneath them filled the air with a sharp bite, as if the energy pulsating amongst the party wasn't enough. Already Philip could feel Edmund tensing in anticipation of a chase.
The first sign of prey was the snap of a branch about a hundred yards to the southeast. King Peter had motioned for the group to halt, their breathing becoming loud in the still forest.
A silent debate of sorts seemed to pass between the siblings, something Philip had come to rue, and then, suddenly, Edmund had dismounted.
Philip had been protecting King Edmund for three years now and he should have seen that first, doomed sign of trouble. Sons of Adam had an uncanny streak of foolish stubbornness in them and despite all his lectures, sense it seemed could not be talked into them.
That fact, however, didn't stop Philip from wondering when riders would finally learn that horses simply knew better than they did.
Were they really so arrogant that they thought a smooth gait was in their control? Indeed, seldom was the rider in control of anything, though a fine horse would never let his rider know such a thing.
But he was digressing from his tale.
King Peter had looked as though he wanted to dismount as well, but Stelia did not let him, moving in short, smooth steps to keep him on her back. Not for the first or last time, Philip wished he had her prudence.
Another rustle of leaves and the brothers perked. "I think we've got ourselves a hunt, Peter." Edmund whispered.
"I think you're right." Peter reached down and patted Stelia's neck, presumably hoping to coerce her into letting him down. She wasn't fooled and he could only look to his brother and say, "Off to it, then?"
"After you." Edmund held out a respectful hand and added in a most disrespectful tone, "Age before beauty, you know."
"We'll see how you feel after I catch the stag, shall we?" King Peter's eyes goaded the challenge, one that would never be turned down by the younger brother.
Philip clearly remembered the feeling of panic snaking around his heart. If all sons of Adam were so competitive, it was no wonder they were rarely found.
Stelia leapt away, her powerful hind legs propelling the High King out of sight in seconds, and Edmund shook his head. "You would think that Peter would have learned by now that charging in headlong just scares the stag away."
"And your strategy is the better of the two?" Philip couldn't have helped the slight lilt of humor to his voice.
"We caught something, didn't we?"
"Of course, your majesty caught a cold, I believe your kind calls it, and I caught a bushel of brambles."
King Edmund had wrinkled his nose, pushing aside a wayward branch and traversing into the thick, late summer foliage. "It wasn't half bad if Susan hadn't insisted I drink that medicine."
During the next several hours, Philip trailed behind his rider and was lulled farther and farther into an empty sense of security. The day looked as though the results would involve another visit to the stable boy's brushes, less afternoons out riding, and King Edmund's apologies for his absence sounding strangely wet and nasally.
The clouds above them, partially visible through the tree branches, slowly grew dark and a deep rumble in the distance caused King Edmund to pull his tunic closer and throw a quick grin in Philip's direction. "A cloak might have been a good idea."
"Indeed." Philip increased his pace, moving close enough that the chilly wind didn't buffet the son of Adam from all sides.
They traipsed on, even as the clouds broke and a gentle patter of rain grew to a pouring torrent of droplets. Soon, Philip was straining to see a few feet ahead of his hooves.
King Edmund seemed unaffected, intent on finding the stag, though the trail had been entirely washed away. When they approached the opening of a little valley, the King held back a hand. "Did you hear that?"
"No, your majesty." It was difficult to hear anything over the pounding of the storm.
"Sounded like Peter. Hang on, I'll go see if I can find him. Stay right here." Quick as a flick of a tail, King Edmund had disappeared behind the sheets of rain.
And Philip was left to wait.
That was where he stood now, sodden, worried, and very cross.
He supposed about two hours had passed and the rain had not lightened up. Slowly his weight had bore him down into the soil and mud now covered the tops of his forelegs. Water had collected in his mane and tail, leaving it to stick unpleasantly to his forehead, neck, and legs.
High King Peter, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy must be frantic by now, he thought glumly. What a fine steed he'd turned out to be. Lost his rider…the thought echoed through his head again, thrumming horribly.
A particularly loud clap of thunder struck only a few miles away and Philip felt the urge to move increase exponentially. The only thing that really hindered him was the thought that King Edmund might possibly return while he was searching and then where would they be?
Another strike of thunder and Philip lurched forward. Dash it all, he was done waiting.
Remembering the tall ferns King Edmund had pushed his way past, Philip trotted in that direction, keeping his head low and ears back to catch any calls for help.
At least a quarter hour passed and Philip had nothing more to show for his efforts than a burning scrape along his side where a pine tree had torn through his coat. To try to find King Edmund's trail was nothing short of impossible and even his scent had been completely washed away.
There were no cries for aid, nothing but the cruel, merciless rain.
A part of him wondered if the King had found the rest of party. He could even now be huddled under a warm blanket with his sisters at his side. But as much as that image comforted Philip it did not explain the twisting, icy touch of foreboding deep in his bones.
Something was wrong.
And as much as he wanted to help, he didn't know what else to do next besides trot on into the raging face of nature, working out in ever widening circles from the spot where King Edmund had left him.
Time trickled past and the tension built in his muscles. Where could his rider be? Surely, King Edmund couldn't have gone much farther than this…
Philip kept walking for an innumerable amount of time and when despair's fingers tangled about his throat he heard the clatter of stones against the clamor.
"King Edmund!" He fought the cloying embrace of guilt, despair, and shame loosen. "King Edmund!"
"Philip?" The voice was weak and slightly astonished but it belonged to the dark haired son of Adam he'd been charged with.
"Your majesty!" Philip moved closer to where he thought the voice had originated from and paused. The panic had faded but the darkness hadn't and his eyes could not decipher his rider's form amongst the streams of water.
"I'm in the gully, just below you. Watch the edge."
An edge that Philip had heard too often in his rider's voice on too many battlefields triggered a new bout of questions. Sons of Adam often had this effect on Aslan's creatures, he learned. Such puzzling, frustrating, accident-prone beings. "Are you hurt, my lord?"
"It's this infernal rain. Slipped on the ridge and tumbled down here. I would have climbed back out but I can't get anywhere with my blasted ankle. I think it's been twisted."
"How far have you fallen?"
"I'd say about four or five yards."
Oh bother. This would not be an easy. Philip strained his eyes to get a better view and found that the night consumed much of the visibility that might have been had. The storm tore away what remained and only a few meager shreds of deeper shadow showed that a gully even existed.
"Philip?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"You don't happen to know where Peter and the rest of the party have got to, do you?"
"No, my lord. I have not seen them."
Over the years, Philip had learnt that sons of Adam could command a vocabulary of very distasteful language when they set their minds to it. High King Peter snarled oaths while visiting the healer's tent on a battlefield, guttural, sharp pronunciations of the foul words. King Edmund muttered them as if they would burn other's ears, yet they were very precisely chosen. There were three words in particular that he favored.
The word choice this night spoke volumes of the pain the young King was experiencing.
"My lord?"
"Philip, I'd appreciate not being lectured about my language this evening. Lucy would have a fit and Su would give me one of her looks and Peter would tell me to visit the washstand, I'm quite aware."
Philip wisely disregarded the comment and stepped forward gingerly. The rocks were quite slippery with mud but if he could just find the edge then perhaps…
The edge came rather abruptly and had Philip not been paying very careful attention he'd no doubt have slipped down into the gully himself. He could smell the fresh earth, torn asunder by the storm and King Edmund's weight. Such a hill would be difficult to climb back up for a hale creature until the dirt had been hardened by the sun.
As much as Philip did not want to admit it, it looked as though his rider wasn't going anywhere this night. Of course, he was free of the gully and could go for help but he knew only Aslan's blessing had brought him to his rider's side and it was unlikely that anyone else would be found while the storm still raged.
That left him with a particularly wet, muddy, and entirely bothersome course of action. King Edmund would receive his death of sniffling if left alone.
Closing his eyes and wondering why he'd ever volunteered to carry a Son of Adam, Philip stepped forward gingerly.
Immediately he was sliding down a slushy embankment, the incline steep but mercifully smooth. Scraping his hooves backward he managed to slow himself to a more reasonable pace but a graceful stop looked to be impossible.
"Philip?" Edmund's voice was panicked.
Philip pretended not to hear and kept his onward trek into the unknown at the forefront of his mind. Several large rocks protruded from the hill and only by sheer luck was he able to avoid smashing into them. That, of course, sent him careening into a young sapling instead. His bulk easily snapped the poor thing in half but not before the wind had been punched from his lungs and an aching pain spread over his side.
Stumbling and nearly blind with flying mud and rain, he felt the ground suddenly curve upwards and he slid to a halt as his momentum ceased. Apparently he'd reached the base of the gully.
"Philip?"
Philip fought to regain his breath. "Yes…my lord?"
"Did you…" the young King seemed unsure of what to say, "are you in the gully?"
"The danger of a cold, as you call them, was too great a peril for you to face alone." As Philip recalled the young sisters had gone into a frenzy during the last bought of the illness and he could only think it a grave and serious matter if it caused the entire castle staff to want to tear their hair out.
A snort of laughter echoed towards him.
"My lord?" Philip was unsure of what to do now. If possible, the darkness was deeper here and he had not a clue as to where his rider had fallen.
"I'm just ahead of you, by the rotten stump."
How the son of Adam could see, Philip didn't know but he took the proffered directions and limped forward, the fire in his veins cooling from his unexpected adventures.
"Just here, Philip."
A hand snagged his mane and he turned to find, in a flash of lightning, King Edmund holding himself upright by a worn tree stump.
"You look a little worse for the wear, Philip."
Well accustomed by now to the King's dry sense of humor, Philip merely responded in kind, "I might say the same of you, my lord."
Though he couldn't see his rider's face he knew a smile would be pricking the young son of Adam's lips.
"I don't suppose that we'll be getting back to Cair Paravel tonight."
"No, my lord, but I believe that the fallen tree behind us might lend some shelter."
The night passed slowly, each moment an aching, freezing, sodden torment that they would both be only too happy to leave behind. Philip couldn't be entirely sure but he thought his rider fell into a light slumber once or twice, each time waking trembling from the cold and grumpier than ever.
The storm slowed to a gentle shower of rain by midnight and a few short hours later it had ceased entirely. Pale dawn did little warm the earth, the biting chill in the breeze stirring up the damp autumn leaves and hardening the muddy ground.
King Edmund was scowling at the stump Philip had found him at the night before, his eyes bleary with weariness and his skin pale.
"My lord…" Philip wasn't sure he wanted to bear a rider that had the temperament of a thistle.
King Edmund merely lifted a hand and pointed towards a narrow ledge that wound up the opposite gully wall. In the darkness, the bushes obscured the dirt pathway but it was clearly there under the rosy sun's rays. It would be steep but certainly manageable.
The pair started forlornly at it for a long moment, hating the fact that they had spent the night cold and miserable.
"Well, there's really nothing for it." Pushing himself up off the rough back, King Edmund shuffled towards the opposite side of the gully.
Philip saw the obvious pain on his rider's stiff movements and scrambled to stand. His muscles ached with the sudden strain, however, he couldn't let his rider suffer any more than he already had. It was his duty. And so, he moved decisively to intercept the King's progress. "Cair Paravel, then, my lord?"
"I should think so, Philip." King Edmund tangled a hand into Philip's mane and mounted, leaning against him heavily.
A long moment of silence passed as they worked their way out of the gorge until King Edmund spoke, "Did you find the stag?"
Surely his ears had deceived him. "Truly, King Edmund?"
"What? Did you or didn't you?"
"I'm afraid I had other matters on my mind."
"Hmm…" He sighed pitifully and sank further against Philip's shoulders. "Peter's never going to let me hear the end of it."