A/N This chapter is the fallout.

Let me know thoughts about it!

All rights to the world and characters of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis and his estate.

Chapter 24: Smoke & Ashes

Edmund's POV

James hit the ground.

No.

Edmund's body moved before his mind could catch up.

He tore through the battlefield, sword still slick with blood, his breath sharp and ragged. His legs burned from exertion, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop.

James was down.

The warlord stood over him, his blade gleaming with cruel intent.

Edmund barely heard Lucy's gasp behind him, barely saw Eleanor's pale face as she scrambled toward them—unprotected, exposed.

She wasn't thinking. She was running toward James.

The warlord's blade lifted—

And Edmund slammed into him.

Their bodies hit the ground in a tangle of armor and limbs. The warlord roared in fury, but Edmund was faster. He twisted, driving his knee into the dwarf's chest, gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands.

The warlord barely managed to block the killing strike.

Edmund's muscles screamed. The warlord was strong. Too strong.

But Edmund was faster.

He shifted his weight, forcing his opponent's blade downward, toward the dirt—just enough to give himself an opening.

And he took it.

With a sharp, brutal movement, he drove his sword through the warlord's throat.

The dwarf gasped—a wet, ugly sound. His hands clawed at the blade as though he could will the wound to close.

Then—he went still.

Edmund didn't watch him fall.

His sword was already slipping from the corpse as he turned—to James.

Eleanor's POV

Eleanor stumbled forward.

Her knees hit the dirt as she reached him, her breath tight, panic rising in her throat.

James was deathly still.

No. No, no, no—

She grabbed his face, her hands shaking. His skin was too pale.

"James?" Her voice cracked. She pressed a palm against his chest, searching for movement.

For anything.

Peter reached them first. He was already kneeling, already pulling at James' cloak.

Blood. Too much blood.

Eleanor's stomach twisted violently.

Then—a groan.

A sharp inhale.

James moved.

Eleanor almost collapsed.

James blinked up at them, his face twisted in pain. His lips parted, breath shallow. "That—" he coughed. "—wasn't my best idea."

A sob-laugh broke from Eleanor's throat. She nearly smacked him, but Peter caught her wrist.

"He's alive," Lucy breathed, dropping beside them. Relief flooded her eyes.

Peter exhaled sharply, his hands still pressing into James' side. "Not for long if we don't get him out of here."

Eleanor nodded quickly. "We need to stop the bleeding."

Lucy was already rummaging through her satchel. Her hands were still shaking.

Erasmus, still weak but standing, called over his shoulder. "Fall back! The battle is over!"

Diácano approached Casio, his deep voice carrying through the smoky air. "We have to clear the caves first. If the enemy regroups, we'll be caught before we reach open ground."

Casio nodded. "We'll cover the retreat. Take your fastest men and secure the exit. We don't need another ambush."

Diácano turned sharply, calling for his warriors to advance. The soldiers moved with purpose, sweeping the tunnels for any remaining dwarves. The clash of steel echoed through the dark as the last pockets of resistance were stamped out.

Edmund barely paid attention. All he could see was Eleanor still kneeling beside James, one hand gripping his arm as if she could hold him to the earth by sheer will.

Peter's POV

The battlefield was quiet now.

The dead lay in still, twisted shapes. The air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke.

They had won.

But Peter felt no victory.

He stood, sword still gripped in his hands, watching as Lucy pressed a single drop of her cordial against James' mouth.

James inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing.

Lucy's lips moved in a quiet prayer.

Eleanor hovered close, her expression set but her fingers trembling where they touched James' arm.

Peter exhaled, running a hand down his face.

They couldn't stay here.

Edmund stepped up beside him, covered in dirt and blood, breathing heavily. He met Peter's gaze and simply nodded.

They understood each other without words.

They had to move.

"Get the wounded on horses," Peter ordered. "We ride south."

Susan was already mounting her horse. "I'll take point. We need to get back to Cair Paravel before nightfall."

Casio, still near Erasmus, barked out orders to the remaining men. "Secure the area. Burn the bodies. Leave nothing for scavengers."

Diácano reappeared at Peter's side, his breathing even despite the exertion of battle. "The tunnels are clear. We can move."

Peter turned back toward James.

Lucy lifted her hand. The wound was still bad—but no longer life-threatening.

James opened one eye. "I hate that stuff."

Peter let out a short laugh. "Then stop getting stabbed."

James tried to grin, but the pain won out. He let his head rest back against Eleanor's knee.

"We ride soon," Peter said, turning back to the soldiers. "Let's get out of this cursed valley."

The company moved swiftly, leaving the battlefield behind.

James rode between Eleanor and Lucy, his face still pale but his grip steady on the reins.

Edmund stayed close, his mind still wired for battle, still expecting another attack.

Susan glanced at him from her place at the front. "We made it," she said quietly.

Edmund only grunted. "Barely."

She didn't argue.

Eleanor's gaze flickered toward him. "Thank you."

He looked at her then—really looked at her. The exhaustion, the dirt, the dried blood streaked across her skin.

And the sheer, unshaken determination in her eyes.

Edmund turned away, swallowing whatever words had nearly escaped.

They had survived.

But this wasn't over.

Not yet.