~By the Lion's Mane~ >A Narnian Fanfiction<

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The quiet whisper of my tent flap opening and the gentle stroking on my cheek woke me. For a split second I was disoriented, but then I was wide awake, snatching the dagger from the table next to me. I sat bolt upright, pointing it at the figure materializing before me in the pre-dawn light.

"Calm yourself," it spoke in a whispery female voice, "I bring you grave news."

I realized what she was. Made of soft pink petals, the girl was the spirit of a cherry tree. I cleared my throat and then lowered my weapon, asking, "And what news do you speak of?" I then noticed that the beds of my queens were empty.

The girl whispered again, "Aslan is dead. The queens Susan and Lucy are at the Stone Table. They sent a message to say that the White Witch will attack in a few hours." My body turned to ice as she spoke. Aslan is...dead? At first all I wanted to do is curl up and cry. But there was no time for that right now. I had to tell Peter and Edmund right away.

I leaped out of bed and threw my cloak over my shoulders, slipping into my boots. I flung open my tent flap and sprinted toward theirs. Upon reaching it, I ripped the flap open and ducked inside. I opened my mouth to wake them, but closed it again when I realized they were already sitting up in their beds and another girl made of cherry blossoms had just begun to dissolve. I stood there, my chest heaving, and I panted, "You've heard?"

They only nodded. We all sat for a moment lost in thought. Peter was the first to recover.

"Well, we need to tell everyone to prepare for battle immediately. And then..." his voice trailed off and he buried his face in his hands. "I'm not ready for this! I can't lead a whole army, possibly to their deaths!"

I didn't know what to say. I wasn't prepared for this. We'd all thought that Aslan would be there to guide us. I had no idea if Peter was ready. But Edmund did.

"Yes you can. Aslan thought you could. And if he thought you were ready to do this, then you are. We all believe in you, Peter."

I nodded in agreement. I was surprised at the support Edmund had managed to show his brother. Once again I saw a new side of him. "I'll give the word to prepare for battle. You two go and start... strategizing with Oreius." I turned and ducked back out of their ornate tent.

After dressing in my tunic, leather boots, and cloak, I mounted Anduril and rode from tent to tent, explaining our circumstances as quickly as possible. All of the Narnians were horrified to hear about Aslan, but, like me, they realized that now was not the time for mourning. They quickly headed to the forge to get suited up in armor and get their weapons.

Once the whole camp was alive with frantic pre-battle activity, I returned to Peter and Edmund. Peter was sitting in front of a table with a map of Narnia spread out in front of him, Edmund standing back a few feet and Oreius the Centaur watching over his shoulder.

I went to them and asked, "Did Aslan leave any kind of plan?"

Peter looked at me with hopeless eyes, and I knew the answer.

Edmund said, "Then you'll have to lead us." Peter looked at him slowly, and Edmund continued. "Peter, there's an army out there, ready to follow you."

"I can't!" Peter insisted, his hands spread wide over a map of the country, as if he were bracing himself.

"Aslan believed you could," Edmund said again. Peter still didn't look at him. "And so do I," Edmund finished.

Peter looked at him again, and this time gave him a small smile. Edmund returned it.

"The Witch's army is near, Sire," said Oreius. "What are your orders?"

Peter looked back down at the map, his eyes roaming over the marked forests and hills and the little flags symbolizing troops, and I could see him beginning to form a plan in his head.

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I was seated on Anduril's back, fully armored as we stood on a small hill on the wide plain that spread out all around us. Peter was on my left and mounted also on a unicorn, with Oreius on his left. We heard the beating of large wings and I raised my hand to my brow to look up at the clear sky. A huge winged figure was spiraling towards us and alighted gracefully on the ground. I recognized it as a Griffon, with the body of a lion and head, wings, and tail of an eagle.

"They come, Your Highness," the Griffon panted. "In numbers and weapons far greater than our own."

My heart sank, but Oreius wisely said, "Numbers do not win a battle."

Peter sighed, looking ahead. "No, but I bet they help."

I swallowed heavily and looked across the vast plain to the snow covered mountains in the distance. Across the expanse of grass, a harsh horn was sounding. Anduril arched his neck and pawed at the ground, snorting. I patted his neck. "There now, Andy. Not yet."

I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds as I sat on his back, wearing my full-body chain mail and plate armor on my arms, shoulders, legs, and head. But I had practiced armored, so I was adept at handling myself. With a sword on both of my hips and a spear for throwing, I was well armed.