Chapter Twenty-Eight: We Play a Deadly Game

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~ Narnia ~

For ten days, they sailed before a strong wind, ever toward the east. On the surface, things seemed wonderful, but inside, turmoil was taking over, things were unwinding, trust was diminishing, fear caught hold ever so slightly. On an unknown ocean, who does not fear? Doubt was largely a part of this fear. When one doubts himself, what then is left to rely on? How can you trust yourself if you have no faith? When you cannot trust your mind to keep from playing cruel tricks, it becomes a game of wits, to see what gives out first. Your endurance or your belief that you are doing right.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

"Why are you so quiet of late? You rarely smile; it worries me, Caspian. Especially now, here," Susan said, coming up beside him, her face showing her concern.

"How do I know that I should even be doing this? We have nothing sure to go on. We cannot know if the Lords accomplished what Coriakin told them to do. We cannot know if we will! What if I have simply led us all to death? What if I have been stupid, thinking I could do something I cannot? Am I a good king? Would your brother have done this – would my father?" Caspian looked up from gazing at the deck to stare at the horizon, unwilling to meet her eyes.

"You don't believe this, do you? Oh, Caspian, do not compare yourself; it is not what Aslan wanted of you! Do not look to others; only follow what you know in your heart, in your mind, Aslan would want you to do. Don't judge yourself by the outward appearances of other men, for Aslan does not," Susan appealed, resting her hand over his.

"How can you be so sure? Your brother believed I was a disappointment, a failure. Remember? 'No more right than Miraz'. Sometimes I believe he was correct. If he were to see me, would I have fulfilled his expectations?" Caspian's voice was firm with conviction; what would the High King have said?

"Yes. Yes, you would have. When Peter became King, no one expected a boy to be able to lead just as he did, no one expected you to succeed in taking Narnia from your uncle and restoring it to the glory of days gone by. But you did! Both of you exceeded expectations put upon you. So many times, Peter would tell me that he was not good enough for those trusting people we ruled. When we returned to help you, he had so many losses to deal with, at the same time as organizing an army that was nine tenths the size he was used to commanding. He was not thinking clearly when he said that. But when he gave you Rhindon, he was certain of you. How often must I tell you this?" Susan asked imploringly, moving closer to him.

"Many things say otherwise," Caspian answered, glancing at her before moving away, brown eyes haunted with doubt. Susan bowed her head, sighing.

"Oh, Aslan, if ever there was a time he needed you most, it is now," she whispered.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

"Lucy," Edmund called to her when she walked past. It was evening; the wind blew softly across the quiet, clean deck. Edmund had been going to talk to Caspian, Susan had told him he was acting strange, as if he was carrying some burden he would not confide to her. She'd described it as "close to possessed," which had worried Edmund. But now, he wanted to talk to Lucy about something he'd noticed the past several days.

"What's wrong, Ed?" she answered, smiling her usual bright smile.

"Nothing's wrong; I just wanted to ask you something," Edmund admitted.

"Well?" Lucy asked, waiting patiently.

"Does… does Gavan make you happy?" he asked, point blank. No use in pretending he hadn't noticed; he knew there was something between them, but he wanted to know how his sister felt.

"What! Well, I should have realized you'd know…. You were always the most observant," Lucy said, searching her brother's face for his feelings on the matter before she answered his question.

"So… how does he make you feel?" Edmund persisted, trying to keep her on subject.

"Gavan does make me happy. He's a good friend, and he understands me better than a boy from England would," she admitted, smiling thoughtfully.

"I'm glad. I just wanted to know, and let you know I knew," Edmund said, his hand on the bannister as he made his way to the chart cabin. Lucy smiled at her brother's retreating back; Edmund was more understanding than she'd thought he'd be. She continued on her way to finding Eustace; she wanted to ask him something about Dragon Island which she couldn't fully remember.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

Drinian hummed a shanty under his breath. Even though there had been singing and dancing that evening, he could sense the tension. It was unnerving, wondering when it would come undone and everyone would lash out at the other. He knew that this venture was necessary for the future and protection of Narnia, but still, he worried over the outcome and the larger possibility of failure than success. He glanced up at the stars, checking his course once more.

"It's troubling, isn't it, to know that we are only a few paces from both victory and madness." Drinian turned to see Arran walk up from behind him.

"Yes," Drinian admitted, his stature slouching slightly over the helm as he let all his guards down.

"Thank Aslan that is all you must worry over. Do not fear, Drinian, or doubt. Ever. You have kept unbelievably strong throughout this whole endeavor, and it has impressed me. You just might outlast everyone. Your faith in Aslan is astounding; do not waver," Arran declared, coming to stand beside the captain.

"I don't know if I should thank you, or wonder what you mean," Drinian replied, glancing at him skeptically, trying to discern what Arran was telling him.

The pirate laughed, braids and dreadlocks swaying slightly. Drinian suddenly realized that if the Star did not do that to his hair, it would be longer than any man's he'd seen before. An odd concept to grow one's hair that length, he thought, wondering how he could cope. Drinian would have sheared to his shoulders it in five minutes; surely it was unbearable in the heat.

"Both are suitable, I suppose, As long as they help you remember," Arran replied, sobering, and pulling Drinian back from his random thoughts.

"I will. But, you know, I'm worried, Arran. What if there isn't another island out there? What if we're sailing away from Ramandu's Island; perhaps we never find a blue star? We don't have supplies to last forever. And sooner or later, if we don't prove our blind faith in Aslan, the men will mutiny," Drinian voiced his worries.

"There is another island, and Ramandu and the blue star are real; do not fear. It's just, can we get to it in time, which should worry all of us. If we cannot find all of the swords, then we might as well have failed the quest. But there is something more troubling then all of that. This 'green mist' bothers me, and I know it means something, but I cannot be sure what yet," Arran said thoughtfully, fiddling with the tassel on his sword.

"Don't you think their Majesties have been acting strange since we encountered it? Sometimes I wish I had turned around after we reached Narrowhaven and brought them all back to Narnia. Evil or not, we can't save Narnia at the expense of leaving her without a ruler. Don't you agree?" Drinian glanced sidelong at Arran.

"I've thought of the same things many a time, Master Drinian. Many a time," Arran murmured, staring out to sea. "The wind's good, and the night's fair, rather smooth sailing, don't you agree?" the Star changed the subject, glancing at the sail and the night sky.

"Yes, but in metaphor, not at all," Drinian answered. Arran smiled slightly, before both captains became quiet, lost in thought.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

The following morning, the lookout shouted of land in the distance. Everyone poured onto the deck from the galley or the cabins. Eleven days from Dragon Island, and here was another one. Another island that was unknown to them until today. How many more were out there, and why did Aslan create these uninhabited lands? As they stared across the bow and toward the horizon, Arran glanced up at Drinian, who was at the helm once more.

The captain nodded, remembering their conversation the night before, how Arran had said there would be another island, and that they were going in the right direction. As he stood there, the thought suddenly occurred to Drinian that Arran knew. He knew these lands existed, he knew they were going in the right direction, and he knew what was ahead. Drinian was puzzled as to the fact that Arran did not tell them what he had already known; why was he holding back?

"Watch for dragons in the storm."

The truth hit Drinian like a loose piece of rigging in a gale. Arran had told him, but he hadn't paid attention. He must watch the Star more carefully in the future, he reasoned.

"Down to the briny deep, nevermore to see the sun."

The words sent a shiver up Drinian's spine. What had the Star meant? The Lord pondered the words as everyone below him speculated on what would be found on this new island.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

The bare mountain crags rose up into the sky, reddish-orange in the heat. There was hardly any vegetation. As the Treader sailed into a cove, lizards splashed off of the uneven, wide rocks jutting up from the cool, blue water with a splash. Eustace watched them, shuddering over the fact that they looked like wingless dragons. They were brilliantly colored: red, blue, green, orange and golden. Drinian called for the anchor to be weighed.

Quickly, sailors scurried about their appointed tasks, while the monarchs moved toward the rail, observing the island before them. "It looks so barren," Lucy said, her voice carrying a note of forlornness.

"Indeed it does," Reep agreed, nodding his head slightly, red feather bobbing.

"But it must have clues," Caspian pointed out.

"You don't think…" Susan trailed off, glancing at her husband uncertainly.

"The Lords must have stopped here, even with those swords; they had to eat; they had to resupply and water. It would make sense," Caspian replied.

"Will you go ashore now?" she asked, trying to keep Rilian from leaning over the edge of the railing too far.

"You know we cannot wait; I don't want to remain in these strange lands any longer than is necessary, after the unfortunate events which befell Eustace," Caspian answered, meeting her questioning gaze. Behind Susan, Eustace colored, realizing that Caspian was worried something might happen to him again.

"Well then, since obviously I cannot convince you to wait until morning, go, but please come back safe." She smiled slightly, her free hand coming to rest on his arm.

"I'm fairly certain we shall," he answered, kissing her lightly before walking off after Edmund and Lucy; who were talking with Arran.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

Eustace had asked if he might come with them to explore, saying that he thought he could help. Everyone was hesitant, but he had asked kindly and had not begged, even when uncertainty spread across their faces at the idea. Finally, they agreed that he may as well come. He didn't know much of what to do in the way of helping lower the boats, so he stood back and watched, wishing once more that he had paid closer attention before. When they reached the shore, as everyone was jumping over the edge of the boat, Arran glanced back at Eustace.

Almost faster than the boy could think, the pirate pulled a jewel-encrusted dagger from his sash and tossed it to him. Eustace barely managed to catch the hilt before it touched the water. When he looked back at Arran, the pirate bore no expression; Eustace didn't know if he was pleased or not. He instead turned wordlessly and followed after the others. Eustace didn't understand the sharp, dangerous gift or what it meant, but he figured Arran wouldn't give it to him without reason. Shrugging nonchalantly, he scurried up the slight incline after the retreating Star.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

With a hiss, steam poured up from the crevices in the rocky soil, the hot air nearly stifling in the heat. If not for the fact that Lucy knew they would be horribly sunburnt by the hot sphere overhead, she would have wished for a blouse with short sleeves and a skirt. But she wondered how Edmund and Caspian could stand it, wearing the clothes they were. She glanced over at Arran, who had been the only Star to come with them as Gavan and Zephyr had been employed by Drinian to mend a weathered spot in the great purple sail; the Star seemed unaffected by the heat.

Their small party was made up of Lucy, Arran, Eustace, Edmund, Caspian, and the sailor Rynelf. It had been a small group, but Arran had reasoned that with his magic, he would be more than able to protect them from danger as long as he didn't come into direct contact with iron. So everyone agreed that a small party was all that was needed.

"A foreboding, volcanic sort of place, don't you agree, your Majesties?" Rynelf reflected, taking his surroundings with a cautionary sweep of the land.

"Indeed, its secrets must be vast," Arran replied, surprising everyone, since he had not spoken since they'd come ashore. He turned a half-step when a geyser of hot air spouted from another hole in the ground.

"What do you mean?" Eustace couldn't help the slight tremor that crept into his voice.

"Merely an observation," the pirate answered vaguely, tilting his head slightly before turning away from Eustace and back to looking at the land. Whether the gesture was meant to be casual or indifference, Eustace didn't know, but he acquired the oddest feeling that Arran finally fit his surroundings; he looked like a predator with prey.

"What's that – over there," Lucy suddenly pointed to a gleaming speck not many yards away on the ground. The bright golden spark was dazzling in the light; Eustace wondered how they could stand to look at it.

"Come on!" Edmund encouraged, picking up speed despite the heat as he walked in the direction of the gleam. Caspian darted after him; Lucy, Arran, and the sailor not far behind. Eustace followed hesitantly; there was something off about this whole thing. Having been tempted once, his subconscious was starting to notice the signs; even if his conscious didn't yet.

"Running after a mote of light, what's next?" he muttered.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

A small golden brooch, the kind Edmund remembered he'd once used to clasp his capes with in the Golden Age, lay beside a length of rope tied to a boulder. The end of the thick hemp had been cast down into a dark crevice, which looked to the Just King as having once been an active geyser. The others arrived behind him, slightly out of breath in the heat, but still curious. Arran bent and retrieved the brooch. The pirate rubbed it absently between his fingers as he stared down into the dark hole thoughtfully.

"What do you make of it?" Rynelf asked, glancing searchingly at his leaders. Arran passed the brooch to the sailor in a distracted manner before walking to the edge of the yawning cavern opening.

"Arran?" Caspian called, but the pirate waved him off.

"I do believe we should go down there," he declared finally in a disconnected voice, as if his thoughts were thousands of miles away and only a piece of him was with them. But because of how softly he'd spoken, the others did not hear him and continued to discuss the matter amongst themselves.

"At least this means we weren't the first on this island; that's a good sign, right?" Lucy asked, glancing at her brother and Caspian.

"You mean the Lords?" Rynelf spoke up.

"Could be," Caspian replied, picking up a small stone and tossing it down into the cavern. It clattered to the bottom with such a noise that it seemed eerily loud in the rather still place.

"Let's find out then," Edmund decided in a firm, serious voice, the voice he once used in council. Grabbing the rope, he swung down into the dark opening, hand under hand. Gwyrdd's scabbard scrapped against the stone, loosening small rivulets of dust and pebbles onto the floor below him and into the air around him. He winced in the cool, murky darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. It was far pleasanter down here with the sunlight not nearly as bright as it had been above. Somewhere in the distance, a geyser rumbled.

The breaks in the cavern roof let in a fair amount of light with which to see by. Above him, Lucy, Eustace, Caspian, Arran and Rynelf waited. When they saw that he was unhurt and that there seemed to be no threats they, too, climbed down the rope and into the cavern. Edmund ventured deeper into the open space as they did so; the underground chamber was held up by boulders and pillars of rock. To his left, a large, seemingly deep, body of water lay. Well, in his mind he said "lay," because it didn't really move; it was utterly, perfectly still.

And the idea of something so still, as if it were only sleeping, unsettled him in a way he found indescribable.

An urge to peer into the water to see how deep it truly was, gripped him, and as much as he wanted to avoid it – haven't we all had the horrible image of standing before a dark body of water and some terrible beast jumps out and drags you back into it – the idea would not go away; it stubbornly insisted on being heeded. So, with a fraction of trepidation, Edmund approached the water.

If he hadn't already mentally prepared himself for the sight of something horrible beneath the water, he might have cried out in alarm. The statue was startling; in and of itself it was a beautiful yet cruel piece of work. It was the most detailed statue made of gold Edmund had seen in all his Narnian and Earthly years. Every detail, down to the strands of hair, had been done to perfection. Leaning forward a bit, resting his hand on his hilt, he stared in fascination, wondering how it had ended up here and how it had fallen into the water in such a way.

"Edmund, what is that?" Caspian called as he and the others joined the king.

"I don't know. I was debating that myself; it looks like some kind of golden statue," the young man answered, straightening up to meet them. He glanced back at the golden object for a second as he spoke, however, his mind captivated by the strange sight.

Everyone moved closer to the water to look. Everyone except Arran, who stood back from the water; he leaned against a long, wide boulder supporting the ground above them.

"I could dive in and see if there are any other such creations or to see how heavy that is; it may only be plated with a thin layer of gold," Rynelf suggested.

"You don't want to be doing that." The pirate's voice suddenly rang out across the space.

"You've been quiet up till now; if there's a reason why I can't go in that water, then tell me," Rynelf insisted. He was tired of the Star acting disconnected and superior.

"I was merely saying that the depth might be greater then you thought; it usually is in underground chambers, where the water has never been exposed to sunlight, and the mud lies still and undisturbed at the bottom," Arran replied calmly enough, fiddling with the gold brooch, which the sailor had given back to him before they'd ventured down the rope.

Edmund looked about, wondering what they might use to measure the depth. With a triumphant gleam in his eye, he noticed several thick, dead vines which had latched themselves onto a boulder not far away. He walked to them and grabbed the strongest looking one. When he pulled it from the slightly crumbly rock, a shower of dust fell on him. Ignoring it, he walked back to the water. Behind them, Arran smiled. Eustace glanced at him with a worried frown; the pirate was acting truly off.

Steadying himself on the edge, Edmund dipped the stick down into the water. Momentarily, he frowned before dropping the stick with a cry, struggling to keep his balance. Caspian leaned forward and grabbed his flailing arm quickly, pulling him back, keeping him from plunging into the water.

"What happened?" Eustace called out, coming to his cousin's side.

"I- the stick, it- it got so heavy," Edmund managed, recovering his composure.

"Maybe the water just makes things look gold, because your stick looks the same color as the statue now, Ed," Lucy remarked observantly.

"What?" Edmund, Caspian, Eustace and Rynelf all turned to stare at her.

"Yes, come look; it's the exact same color as the statue!" she insisted, waving her hand for them to come back to the water's edge while she peered into its depths.

When they came to her side, they were surprised to see she was right. Down in the water, next to the statue, lay the stick, colored a beautiful gold. "That's not right," Edmund mused aloud, turning back for another stick. It was smaller, and this time, when he dipped it into the water, it became heavier, but not before they could all see that it was changing to gold as soon as it touched the water. Uneasily, Edmund dropped the second stick.

They looked at one another, horrified. Caspian voiced the thought on everyone's mind with minimal emotion in his voice, "He must have fallen in."

"Oh, the poor man!" Lucy cried, compassion on her face for whoever it was that had had to experience such a gruesome fate.

"I think the correct words would be 'poor Lord,'" Eustace corrected, pointing to a golden shield emblazoned with a cross-like emblem lying in the water not far away.

"The crest of Lord Restimar," Caspian confirmed.

"And his sword!" Edmund said, noticing it not far away from the shield, lying on a shelf of rock just under the water.

~|:Xo0oX:|~

"Now, whose sword did he take again?" Edmund asked as Caspian held his wrist so he could lean out and grab the other sword with Gwyrdd.

"I can't remember; Rezef's? No, wasn't it a woman?" Caspian frowned as he thought about it.

"Does all that really matter? Just get the sword without falling in!" Eustace chided, scared more than he'd admit that both of them were going to topple into the quiet water. In the tension, with all eyes on Edmund and Caspian, everyone was ignorant to the tendrils of green mist that drifted from the shadows like smoke from a slowly burning fire.

"Yes, Eustace is right, be careful!" Lucy said plaintively.

"Your sword hasn't turned to gold," Rynelf noted with some surprise, as did everyone else when Edmund slowly raised the two blades from the water.

"Bright, isn't he?" Arran needled, a mocking tone in his voice. Rynelf turned and frowned at him momentarily before looking back to the kings.

"Well, I'd imagine that since both the swords are magical, they wouldn't be affected by the water," Caspian said slowly, concentrating more on ensuring that Edmund right himself safely without touching the water or dropping the blades than he was on the spat between the sailors behind his back. "Here," he called, grabbing the newest blade by the hilt as Edmund precariously tried to stand. With the added weight gone, Edmund could rise unassisted. He stared at the weapon that he'd risked his life to save, breathing heavily. Caspian grinned at him, also trying to catch his breath after the adrenaline rush.

"He mustn't have known what hit him," Lucy remarked sadly, glancing back at the Lord's figure in the water. She brought everyone's attention back to it, which was probably a mistake.

"Maybe," Edmund agreed, still unwilling to go near the water after his brush with a golden death. Immortalization by song and story was one thing; immortalization by turning to gold was another.

"If you want to look at it that way, maybe he was on to something," Arran spoke from the background. Everyone turned to him.

"I might be a pirate and spend three tenths of my life at sea and seven tenths in the sky, but I'm no fool to the possibilities here," he continued slowly.

"What are you saying, exactly?" Caspian asked, leaving off studying the newest blade to look at the pirate.

"A pool that turns things to gold." he motioned with the length of his arm back at the water. Edmund caught his meaning quicker than the others, turned around, knelt before the water, quickly dipped a small shell into it and pulled it back out, dropping it on the ground. The entire thing turned to solid gold. He picked it up; it was as real as all of them. He looked at Arran again.

"Just think of all the power," Arran murmured enticingly, riveting his gaze on the shell. "All the gold you want, everything would become within your reach, and So. Very. Possible," he said, his voice oddly disassociate, as if he was in a trance. Edmund stared back down at the shell in his hand, a wild, crazed look coming into his dark eyes.

"Whoever has access to this pool… Could be the most powerful person in the world," Edmund explained, catching on. Eustace shared a concerned glance with Lucy. They were not affected by whatever was happening, and it scared them; not knowing what would come next.

"Lucy, we'd be so rich. No one could tell us what to do or who to live with." He glanced at Eustace as he spoke.

"You can't take anything out of Narnia, Edmund," Caspian's voice rang out, clear in the deranged silence. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief along with Eustace, thinking he'd be able to help Edmund.

"Who says? We've all managed it, one way or another; at least, Peter has," Edmund contradicted.

"I do." Caspian straightened.

The look of pure mortification that came across Lucy's face told Eustace that something wrong had just been said.

"And what if I want to use this pool, what then would you do?" Arran asked walking forward slightly, his hair gleaming a soft gold color in the beams of light piercing the cracks in the ceiling.

"This is Narnia; I rule Narnia; you gave up that right years ago, Edmund. And you, you're a pirate; you have no country, no king; you could not use it even if you wanted to," Caspian answered, his tone sharp.

"I'm not your subject that you can command," Edmund said, his voice rising imperiously, a slightly mad tremor behind it.

"As you said, I've neither country nor king; you do not own me either," Arran said threateningly, pulling his blade several inches from his scabbard.

"And yet you do what I tell you; you go where I want," Caspian pointed out, watching both carefully.

"That's not true; I only do things because we agree first!" Edmund shouted, picking Gwyrdd up from the stone floor.

"Please, stop it!" Lucy shouted, half begging, half imploring.

"I had no choice; it was that or be hanged," Arran tossed in his own argument against Caspian's words, all three ignoring Lucy's cries.

"Perhaps the both of you just like taking orders; you seemed to do that rather well when Peter ruled Narnia, Edmund," Caspian said belittlingly.

"You Telmarine dog, if anyone is a pirate, if anyone is in the wrong, it's you! Who invaded and stole Narnia? Your people did; in fact, I do believe you're named after the traitor who lied to the Narnian regents!" Arran shouted, his blade making a sharp rapport against Caspian's as he lashed out angrily.

Caspian brushed off the pirate's advance easily. But then Edmund began once more.

"I'm tired of it seeming that way, as if I'm always second fiddle! First it was Peter, and now it's you! Do you know who the king responsible for burning your people over and over when the fools wouldn't learn that Narnia wasn't theirs was? Me. I devised the plans, showed Peter how to execute them. I was the wisest man in all of Lumea. Peter could not best me when it came down to the quickest, most efficient ways to teach idiots a lesson!" Edmund shouted, raising his blade.

"You think you're so wise? Prove it! After all, it was my people who wiped yours out!" Caspian challenged, meeting Edmund's blade halfway. Without giving it much thought, Caspian unsheathed Rhindon as well, blocking a clever maneuver Edmund typically used.

"Oh, that is low, Caspian. Don't you know anything but what I taught you in the How?" Edmund mocked, gesturing to the two blades.

"Must everything I do be taught me by either you or Peter?" Caspian argued, jerking back, freeing his blades.

"Yes, because you don't understand Narnians, and you never will!" Edmund replied, swinging his sword.

"But what about me, if you fools kill one another, what do I do? Keep everything, because that sounds enticing." Arran's voice interrupted their spar. The two kings faced the pirate, caught off-guard.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, you know I'm a pirate; I have no loyalty; I don't care if you kill each other or what happens to you, but I would like to know about the Dawn Treader and this pool," Arran waved away their looks of startled surprise, talking as if he was discussing whether or not he should buy rice or beans. He walked down into their midst, gazing past them to observe the water. "I really would like to know, so hurry up," he motioned to their swords, as if the death and victory to follow would decide his quandary.

"On the other hand…" he whirled, sword bared and lunged at both of them.

"You're a lying double-crosser!" Caspian observed in annoyance, pushing Arran away to parry Edmund's coming blow. Arran in turn lashed out at Edmund.

"I am not a double-crosser; that's what you call idiots like Pug; I like to think of myself as a man of fortune; whatever fortune I find inadequately protected is mine!" Arran said lightly, as if answering an exceedingly simple question.

"Stop it, all of you!" Lucy screamed forcefully, pulling her shortsword and banging all of theirs into a tangled clatter, blades pointed toward the ground. Eustace and Rynelf quickly joined in, Eustace using the dagger Arran had given him earlier and Rynelf's shortsword to press down on top of Lucy's. All the men dropped their blades, staring at them.

"Rynelf, get the blades," Lucy ordered. The sailor quickly obeyed. Lucy didn't know how far they'd been enchanted, but she knew she had to talk while she had their attention.

"Just look at yourselves; can't you see what's happening to you?" she asked while Eustace and Rynelf held the weapons out of reach. When Eustace dropped one, Arran's gaze darted toward it sharply. Caspian and Edmund glanced at one another, feeling a bit confused. "This place has tempted you. It's bewitching you, and none of you can see it!" Her voice rose at the end when Arran moved toward the fallen sword. But he stopped, as if struck, when she spoke.

"How do you know?" the Star snarled, anger turning his eyes dark blue, a fierce light in them Lucy had never seen before.

"Can you not hear yourself? This is exactly what Coriakin said would happen!" Lucy shouted forcefully, her eyes meeting his in an icy stare. With a low, indistinguishable sound, Arran averted his gaze, slinking away from her. Edmund's eyes met Caspian's but he quickly looked away, remembering what he had said about the other king's people.

"We have the sword; we should go, now, before anything worse than a spar happens," Lucy said, keeping her voice imperious, noticing that when she did, Arran retained his docile composure. Edmund stared down at the golden shell that he still held tightly in his hand. What a horrible thing he'd almost done for such a small, meaningless object, he thought, before tossing it back to the dark water he'd taken it from. Slowly, a green mist circled the gold as it sunk, screeching with pleasure; it had succeeded.

The sailor and Eustace kept the swords, walking behind everyone so that Edmund, Caspian and Arran would have to go through Lucy to take them back. Eustace could not understand Arran's actions, whenever Lucy said anything, gave a command, he shied away from her, as if her very presence and the sound of her voice was painful for him.

When they reached the rope, Lucy told Rynelf to go up first, taking all the swords with him, and to hide them before he let the others come up. She decided she'd send him back for them later, once everyone was shipboard again. She turned quickly as she was giving directions, hearing footsteps behind her. Hand on her hilt, she faced Arran. "What is it?" she asked, her left hand moving to finger her dagger.

"Thank you, my Queen, for saving us – saving me. You have great power, power which can hold sway over the darkest force; do not forget. Perhaps one day you will need to use it, and when that day comes, I pray I fight on your side," he said before turning away. Lucy stared after him, wondering what he had meant. Eustace shrugged in confusion when she shared a glance with him, not understanding it either.

"Come on; let's get out of here; it's evil," Lucy urged, motioning for Eustace to go up before her. As she waited her turn, she gazed about the cavern once more. The silence was deadly and reminded her too much of what had just transpired. Echoing from some distant shadow, a geyser erupted, making Lucy flinch at the haunting sound.

"It will be better once we depart this vile place," she whispered, quoting a dryad she'd once known who had been her battle scout.

But deep in the shadows, something stirred. Something ancient, something dark.

A/N:

So, I felt this was a productive chapter! Oh, I do so like macabre situations! (I don't know why, don't ask me, the only thing I do know is that I'm recognizing an affinity with Sherlock... We both laugh over the oddest things and find certain dire situations amusing...) Maybe I'm a low-functioning sociopath? (Well, I thought it was funny...)

I love that show! I watched like two seasons in a night, well, more like two days and one night... (Oh, sorry, moving on...)

Ok, Jesus' girl 4ever was my Beta again on punctuation, so, round of applause for her, she's sticking with it after such long chapters and agonizingly incorrect punctuation!

Problem... I seem to be getting bored with writing. Not just writing this story, any writing in general. I don't know why. Usually what happens during this time is my brain gives birth to a bunch of un-thought-through, half-baked ideas. I'm working on it, believe me, I won't stop now, not when we're so close...

I knew this would happen after watching Sherlock and getting into my favorite (most-times deliciously depressing, dunno, sometimes it feels good to be depressed, oh, gosh, see what happens when I watch Sherlock?) subject, WW2. Gad, someday I need to post the letters German soldiers wrote back home to family from the Stalingrad front. You will be sobbing, believe me...

Ok, so, I knew this would happen when I sent my brother to the library on Library Day to get me Sherlock to rewatch season two so I could finally watch (catch up for s4) season three (No TV, and I don't have Netflix so I have to wait until the seasons come out on DVD, boooring) Anyway, I knew this would happen so I wrote several chapters in advance.

Said chapters have almost run out. But it's OK! I'm working on it.

Now, moving on...

When I wrote the dagger scene, I did it as tribute (small, small tribute) to the scene in the film where Caspian hands Eustace a dagger and doesn't say anything about it except "here." Such a boring line... Anyway (trying to keep my sarcasm out), The dagger is important, you'll see.

I liked so much writing the fighting scene! Nothing really to talk about there... In fact, I'm just going to shut up and go away, let ya'll review, all right? I want to hear things from your pov, so, go at it!

(Blast, still too many words a chapter...)

ILoveFanfiction:

I hope you're doing well and that I'm not boring you, am I? I really think I am... But then, I get bored easily and unless something really holds my attention, I start leaving it... Not that I blame you, this story has really dragged out unlike the last one... Anyway, miss you,

WH