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: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled), 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 Fifteen: Widening the Divide

Sleep was a comfort not given him this night. Peter stared at the ground as he sat with his arms around his knees. Most of the Giants were muttering in their own little knots, Morfran having dragged Fea away from the group's line of sight although they could hear her shrieks of rage in the distance, but now they had turned their pitiful attention back to food. It seemed that was never far from their minds and was the least vile of all their vices.

He ran a hand over his face, wishing he could close his eyes and open them to find this was all some sort of terrible nightmare and that he was safe in bed at Cair Paravel with his Flower's soft warmth pressed against his back as she whispered words of loving comfort to him. Oh Thalia! He had no doubt that by now a patrol had found the site of the ambush, of the massacre, and word would have been sent at once to Cair Paravel. There was little hope though that they would find their trail, although perhaps they found Oreius. He had probably died, though. Peter shuddered at the reminder of his failure to bring back help for the Centaur. He ran his hand over his face again, blinking back burning tears as he thought of Kat and how she would have to raise her baby alone because of his failings and Thalia . . . His poor Flower. Even if they found a way to escape . . . would she even want him still?

Peter closed his eyes then tilted his head back, uncaring as the stray tear escaped to roll down his grimy cheek and then disappear into his beard. "Thalia, forgive me. I'm trying to make it back but you won't even want to look at me when you hear what's happened. I led them to their deaths. I did. I failed them, I've failed you, and I have failed Aslan's charge to me. I won't let them touch me, though. I won't let them pollute what we have together. I'll put cold steel in my own breast before I'll permit that. I pray you'll forgive me for being so weak. Forgive me, Thalia, for failing as a husband, as a king, and as a brother. Forgive me, Flower."

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Tears flowed down her cheeks in a silent torrent as though her Tree was drenched in the fiercest of storms. She wished she might call down to Peter or, even better, go down to him if only to brush a single leaf against his cheek. Anything she could have done to alert him to her presence, though, would have also alerted the Giants. As it was, her distress was so great that she could not even hold her incorporeal form and now crouched on a shadowed ledge overlooking her poor, battered oak. How much pain must have cut into his trunk and roots for him to even contemplate turning an axe upon himself in the name of maintaining their pure marriage?

Oh Aslan, give him strength. Shore up his branches and nourish his roots. Let him not fall to the axe of despair! Let him continue in You, strong and confident in Your mercy. We are so close now. Let him not give up when we are so close to him.

Her fervent prayer was met by silence but Thalia did not despair. She would not despair. Where there was life, there was hope and the Great Lion was still at work. That was what her mother had taught her during the years of Winter. It was still true.

A harsh shout filled the air and Thalia pressed back into the shadows as her attention was torn away from Peter to where two Giants now stood beside the fire. One was carrying a spit and the other held the limp body of a horse. Their shouts carried easily as they became more involved in their argument. The one holding the horse shoved his fellow Giant. "An' I tol' you a 'orse needs fine filleting ta get the most outta it. A stew."

"You don't know nothin'! 'Orse needs ta be turned on a spit. It gets all nice and crunchy."

"You eatin' slop? Who wants crunchy 'orse? Put it in a stew, I says, an' I'se cooking not you, filthy Ettin." He shoved the Ettin hard and laughed as the other Giant stumbled too close to the fire and singed the hem of his leggings.

Thalia dared a peek down at where Peter was sitting. He had risen slowly to his feet. A ribbon looped around his neck dangled to the ground. A burst of fury like the lightning that scorched unsuspecting trees filled her at the sight and she wanted nothing more than to go down and tear it off her husband and then burn it. Her attention was recalled to the Giants as a familiar voice suddenly rang out, "Actually neither a stew nor simply turning it on a spit will get you the best tasting horsemeat."

By the Lion, what was he doing?

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"Edmund, no!"

"My Queen?"

Susan stared wildly around the room before her gaze settled on Caia. The Centauress was watching her with concern. "Are you well, My Queen? We heard you cry out."

She nodded, too afraid of what she might say if she attempted to speak. When the Centauress did not retreat immediately, she managed to get a few words past her parched mouth, "Just a dream."

"Aslan guard your dreams, Your Majesty." The Centauress closed the door, shutting her in with only her thoughts for company.

Susan dropped her head into her hands and shuddered as she recalled the dream. Edmund had been standing before three Giants with murder in their eyes as they listened to him speak. She knew how deeply her brother's words could cut when he set his mind to it. She had not been able to hear the words he spoke but the terrible dread had come over her that he was about to be killed. Tears threatened but she blinked them back. She was of no help to them crying here in Cair Paravel over a dream.

She swallowed hard and then left the empty comfort of her bed. She picked up her robe and then allowed it to fall back across the foot of the bed. She would need something warmer. Moving on silent feet, she opened her wardrobe but her searching fingers did not go to her delicately embroidered slippers nor her fine gowns in delicate silk or sumptuous velvet. Instead, she pulled out some serviceable if still finely tooled leather boots. She slipped her feet into them and then pulled out her warmest cloak, the one with a deep hood. Fastening it in place, she drew the hood up and then stole into her sitting room. The fire had been allowed to die even though the one in her bedchamber still burned. Gathering her cloak and nightgown up, Susan ducked into the fireplace and pressed the small lever tucked in the corner. A section of marble slide open to reveal one of the secret tunnels. She did not much care to use it, not delighting in the secret passages like her brothers and sister, since it caused their guards undue worry whenever they disappeared from their quarters. But this time there was no other way.

Stepping back out, she picked up a candle and lit it before she ventured into the tunnel, the door sliding back into place with soundless ease. The sputtering flame seemed to match her own failing courage. Susan swallowed again, reminding herself that there was no other way and that she needed more than anything to be the strong Queen her people and her family needed and that meant she would have to take this step. Word had come from the Mermaids that the Calormenes woud at last set sail the following morn, having delayed their journey after Blodeuwedd's departure to thoroughly cleanse the ship of any lingering malevolence. Time was of the essence.

At least she emerged from the tunnel out into the southern gardens. The wind was bitterly cold and bit through her cloak with alarming ease. It snuffed out her candle, plunging her into darkness until her eyes adjusted to the faint starlight. There were torches and lanterns in the distance, marking the walls and where her people gathered to share tales and food. Many of the houses near the southern gardens were dark, though, as Susan approached them. Walking swiftly, she found the house she sought and scratched at the door.

The answering silence stretched to the point she thought she might have to look outside Cair Paravel's gates for the one she sought and then she heard the muffled footsteps approaching the door. It swung open to reveal a large Centaur stallion. Captain Ardon blinked at her then he bowed and stepped back to allow her entry. "Your Majesty," he rumbled, "what has happened?"

"It is what I fear will happen that brings me here this night, Captain." Susan gave him an apologetic smile. "Forgive me for waking you but I feel this cannot wait for daylight hours."

The Centaur gave a curt nod and then went to the fireplace. As he stirred the banked fire back to life, he asked softly, "Does this concern the Northern dilemma or the Southern frustration?"

A faint smile curled her pink lips before she sighed. "The Northern dilemma. We must send aid now. The patrol still awaits your order, does it not?"

"It does." The Centaur looked at her as he straightened. "However, there is no way to know if they will find them or be in time if they do."

"We must find them and we must bring them home." Susan took a deep breath then raised her chin. "Send the order, Captain Ardon. The patrol must bring them home within the sennight. We can wait no longer."

At first, she thought he might argue. But if the Centaur thought she was making a foolish choice or risking exposure of the problem to Narnia's enemies, he gave no indication. Instead, he bowed gravely. "At once, My Queen. Shall I bring my report to the war room?"

"Yes, Captain, and thank you."

"Aslan is yet with them, My Queen. Wherever they all are, they are held between His paws."

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"What'd 'e say?"

Edmund rocked back on his heels as he raised his voice, "I said you're not cooking the horsemeat correctly unless you want it to taste like dirt and oil."

The Ettin lowered the spit toward him. "That's why you don't put et in any ol' stinkin' stew."

Edmund glanced at the Harfanger who was still staring at him dumbfounded then nodded to the Ettin, stepping closer to him and stopping just shy of the spit's sharp point. "Exactly, my good fellow. Now a proper meal would consist of broiled horsemeat."

"Eh? What's that? Broiled?"

"Precisely." He hoped Philip never caught wind of this conversation. The Horse would buck him off into the first stream and then make him walk everywhere (for Philip would take steps to keep him from riding any horse) until Edmund demonstrated he was sufficiently sorry.

"What are you whisperin'?" The Harfanger finally glared at him. "What'd you tell 'im?" He took a menacing step forward. "You tell Grawk now."

Edmund scurried over to him. He had no idea when Morfran and Fea would return or when the others would notice that Nemain had decided to chase some poor terrified bird into the canyons. He had to work fast if this was going to work. "I told him the truth. You can't roast a horse or put it in a stew by itself. You need to serve it baked in a fresh pepper and tomato sauce."

"Ain't never had 'orse that way afore." Grawk crouched down so they were eye to eye. "What else do ya have ta do?"

Before he could answer, Edmund's ribbon was jerked tight and he stumbled backwards in a shuffling run to keep from choking or breaking his neck. He spun about to see the Ettin chef was holding the end of the ribbon. "You tell Mork what's you said or Mork eats you."

Edmund raised his hands placatingly. "I only reassured him that you were right about horse being best when broiled."

"I was?" The Ettin squinted at him and then he grinned and tugged him closer. "An' iffen I broil it. What else?"

"Why you would of course broil it with the finest taters around. You know the good ones, large and golden."

Mork laughed then dropped the ribbon as he stomped toward Grawk. "Gimme thet 'orse! We broil it."

Grawk sneered. "No, I'se gonna bake it in a sauce."

"What sauce?"

"Pepper an' tomato sauce. Be a delight ta ya gullet."

"No!" Mork shoved Grawk in the shoulder. "The 'orse is broiled wi' taters!"

"Don't want no stinkin' taters. Baked in a pepper an' tomato sauce is what it's gonna be."

Edmund began to slowly back away as Grawk shoved Mork. The Giants continued bellowing the different methods and ingredients as their shoves became harder, sending each one stumbling multiple steps. Their companions began to gather around, egging on the fight in the absence of Morfran, Fea, and Culhwch. Edmund finally gained Peter's side just as Mork punched Grawk, knocking him flat. His brother shook his head. "What is this supposed to accomplish?"

"You'll see. I have it under control."

No sooner had the words left his lips than Grawk wrenched the spit from Mork's hand. Edmund gagged as the Harfanger drove the spit into the Ettin's left eye, killing him instantly. Two more of the Ettins bellow and then charged Grawk. The force of the three Giants tumbling to the ground caused a slight quake. Edmund grabbed Peter by the arm and hauled him back as the Giants rolled dangerously close, their legs and fists flying. One wrong swat and his plan wouldn't matter in the least.

A roared curse shattered the air and then Culhwch and Morfran both waded into the fray. To Edmund's disappointment, neither Grawk nor his new opponents suffered any fatal hurt before the brawl was broken apart by the two leaders beating them until they ceased.

Morfran yanked Grawk up and demanded, "Why did you fight? I told you not to fight the Ettins. Who told you to fight?"

Fortunately, Grawk's face was so swollen that he could not answer Morfran's questions but the lack of answers did not seem to influence his hateful suspicion as he turned his head to stare at where Edmund now sat with an expression of utter innocence. But the dark Harfanger did not come over to him as Fea finally appeared, looking even messier and more unkempt than usual. She surveyed the destruction and then clapped her hands. "You reveal our weaknesses, Grawk, and show Morfran I am right!"

Her larger head looked around more and then frowned. "Nemain."

Her smaller head frowned. "What?" Then she surveyed the camp and bellowed, "Where is Nemain? Where is my sister-aunt?"

The Giants all looked around dumbfounded. Then the Ettins shrugged and dragged their dead comrade away. The Harfangers took seats near the fire with Morfran in the center once more. At Fea's repeated question, Morfran sneered. "If you had not tested me, you would know. My sister is an imbecile who wanders and Morrigan charged you with keeping her safe. Now I have taught you your lesson. Go find Nemain and avoid Morrigan's punishment."

As Fea stomped off into the darkness, Edmund found himself once more confronted by Morfran's hateful stare. He raised his chin in silent defiance. Peter nudged him with his elbow. "Choose your fights wisely, brother mine. Don't be so clever it dooms you."

"I have a plan," he muttered in reply, still not looking away from the Harfanger. "I just might have to adapt it a few times."

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Finally assured that her husband and brother-in-law were yet safe, Thalia banished her corporeal form. But she did not return immediately to the camp. Instead, she sped through the canyons looking for the foul Giantess who had dared to lay claim to her husband. She found her chipping away at a small hole in the canyon wall as a bird scolded and dived, plucking at her stringy hair to no avail.

Nemain laughed to herself. "Birdy eggs nice. Birdy eggs so nice. Nemain get birdy eggs."

Thalia swooped down, brushing her leaves across the Giantess' face. She felt ill as she did so, as if a sludge had been tossed on her Tree's roots, threatening to dry up the nourishment to be found in the soil. It was not an experience she wished to repeat and, thank the Lion, one pass was all that was needed to distract the Giantess. "Purty."

She laughed, reveling in her own ignorance, and clapped her hands together before she reached out to catch Thalia again. Her fingers passed harmlessly through her leaves, catching naught but air, and she stared in dumfounded silence before she tried again. The more she failed, the more fascinated she became in attempting to catch the swirling leaves. Thalia led Nemain further east. She had seen Fea's concern. If Nemain was lost, she would not permit the Giants to move on until she was found. Thalia just needed to ensure Nemain herself was lost and too far away to simply wander back on her own.

The Giantess continued to pursue her, not resting or growing distracted until well past sunup. Only then did she at least sit down. Nemain blinked slowly and then her head drooped. In a matter of moments, she slumped to the side and began snoring. Thalia regained her corporeal form as she observed the sleeping Giantess. Aslan willing, they had covered enough ground that the other Giants would not find her soon.

Banishing her corporeal form, Thalia rose once more on the winds and allowed them to carry her away.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Hmm, tread very carefully, Edmund. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.