My sister (the one who's been in the US) is amazing. I love her to death. I'm putting her pics on the comp, and look at Demi Lovato stuff on the net. I found this cool site: http://dresslikedemi.net. I love Demi's style, and I'm letting it influence mine. I just got her first cd, and I have to wait till August to get her second.

Life is good.

(First day of the whole summer I think I could actually write that!)
 

11. Walk Beside Me

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow; Don't walk behind me, I may not lead; Walk beside me, and just be my friend.

-Albert Camus

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The night air whipped against his face, and more then once he had to shut his eyes to protect them so that he soon lost sense of the direction the dragon was flying. The dragon himself said no words to him even when the son of Adam spoke to him. So while they flew to himself, and wondered if the Narnians had won the battle- or if the dragons had gotten the best of them. For some reason, he doubted it.

He would have felt it. Wouldn’t he?

Somehow during the awful flight, he slept, but received no rest. It was not the dreams, for he had none, that caused this, but the way the dragon tightened its hold around his waist caused his muscles to ache. He awoke again after half an hour, and by the light of the moon, he could just make out the landscape behind him.

The dragon flew above a wide open plain; a place Edmund had never seen before. It seemed like Ettinsmore, but less wild. As the dragon swooped down to the ground lower, he could make out great many mounds of grass, and Edmund suddenly realized that the plains were fields, or at least it seemed like it. Then, he saw a tributary of the River Shribble that glistened in the moonlight, and a towering building coming closer and closer.

Were they heading for it? The dragon circled around it, and Edmund saw that it was a tower with moat around it, and several riders were nearby. The walls were quite thick, and Edmund realized with a sickening heart that it would be impossible to escape it without help. Edmund tugged back, shifting his weight to his legs. The dragon sensed the movement, and tightened its grip even further. He hissed slightly as the dragon's claw pressed against his shoulder's wound.

“Not now, little King,” said the dragon. “It’s not your time to run away; you need to go where you belong.”

The dragon released him then, and he tumbled, not expecting the fall so suddenly. His armour banged against his knees unceremoniously, and Edmund winced. He was sure to have a bruise the next morning. His ears picked up the sound of galloping horses, and he could see them coming towards him.

His voice screamed at him to run, but something held him back. Go! his mind screamed, but his knees refused to bend as he stared at the company coming towards him. The dark riders quickly circled around him, and Edmund backed away only to bump into a horse’s muzzle causing him to hastily jump back, and stay in the middle of the shadowy group.

One of the riders, cloaked and hooded, kicked his horse, and halted close to the king. The rider held a sword of great value in one hand, and Edmund stared at it for a second: He knew the sword’s design.

“So this is one of the Four!” laughed the rider to himself or to the riders, Edmund wasn’t sure, he only stared back at him with narrowed eyes and his jaw set. “So, Edmund-or should I say King Edmund? How does it feel to be captured once again?"

Edmund’s nostrils flared, and he could feel the muscles in his hands tighten into fists. His eyes widened, however, when a rider holding a standard came beside the speaker. The flag was a cream colour with a speckled falcon in the middle, and in its beak was a single branch. The king stepped back as realization started to kick in, and when he saw this, the speaker laughed.

“Yes, it’s a cruel world, is it not, my lord? You never quite know, who your friends are.” The rider smiled, and nodded to another rider behind Edmund. Before he could react, something hard was wacked against Edmund's head, and the Narnian surrendered to the oblivion that surrounded him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A groan escaped his lips as he rolled over on the damp floor. Edmund's head throbbed as he tried to position his head on his forearm that was on the same side of the shoulder that still throbbed horribly from the arrow. By the lion it was cold! He had awoken without any of his armour, and his shirt's padding scarcely gave him comfort. The handcuffs rubbed against his wrists unmercifully.

"Sir?"

Edmund lifted his head warily in the direction of the voice, and mutely stared at the figure across the bars. It was still dark, and he could only see the person's form by the light inside the lantern she carried. Her yellow hair sparkled somewhat in the light, causing Edmund to blink at the muddled colours. The door swung open, and Edmund shifted slightly realizing that she was coming in.

"Well, get up!" she said, placing the lantern on the floor, and opened a leather bag that she had swung over her head. Edmund raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. What was the use to fight?

From her bag, the blond produced a small jar and strips of cloth. Wordlessly, she took one arm out of his shirt, but carefully with the arm that was attached to his wounded. Soon, the shirt lay on the floor, and the girl was lathering a white ointment onto the wound. Edmund winced as the ointment touched unhealed skin, and almost jerked back from her cool touch. She looked at him, and for a moment the two glared at each other. She sighed after a bit, and continued. Her tanned hands then took the stripts of cloth, and wrapped them tightly around his wound. She helped him get the shirt back on, and then, silently, left the room.

She had left the lantern.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Cair Paravel

Lucy's eyes snapped open as she sat up in her large bed. Something was not right. Her chamber was dark, and it took her several minutes to find a candle. With it lit now, she silently got out of bed although she was the only one in the room. Her long, brown hair shown in the light as she made her way to the door.

Tap. Tap.

The queen whirled around, and a hand flew to her mouth as she covered a startled scream. Something or someone was tapping at the windowpane. She gulped as she shadow tapped again. She couldn't help, but finger the doorhandle, and then a thought struck her, causing Lucy to step back from the door. Aslan had not named her Valiant for no reason. The thing tapped again as she bit her lip nervously.

Before she could think twice about it, Lucy placed the candle on a wooden table, and quickly walked to the window. Half of her wished to go back to her warm blankets and ignore the tapper, but something in her heart told her that something was wrong. She three open the window, and found herself ducking underneath a bird of some sort as it flew in.

It flew half a circle before it addressed her, and by then Lucy could make out the small piece of parchement in the bird's talons. Peter....she thought, and had to restrain herself from snatching it away from the creature. The siblings had made it a custom to send urgent, or private, matters through the chamber windows, and not the normal way for it usually took longer with the customs that were needed in the Grand Hall. Was something wrong? Why had the bird awoken her at the dead of night?

"An urgent message from the High King, Queen Lucy," screeched the bird. Lucy winced at its voice, but nervously took the parchment from the bird's talons. It was sealed with the face of a lion. The lion. She broke it, and by positioning herself close to the candle, Lucy could just make out the short letter though it was covered in holes due to the falcon's nails.

'My dearst sisters,

Atta..ked near Owlwood. Retreated to Asyr ..stle. Ed's b...n captured. Will get him ba..'
000000
I'm not going to say if there will be any romance in this fic; that would give stuff away. But I'm not going to say there's going to be none, either. It's up to you to keep reading!

Author Notes: Psh, I’m a Narnian mood. I was writing my Lord of the Rings fic, and decided to work in a different world instead. I also have an idea for another fic, so who knows what will happen with that.By the way, do griffins shriek or croak?

Please take Note: *Slaps face for idiocy*. In the Prelude, I mixed up Naiads with Dryads. My most humble apologies! It has been thus fixed. 8l

We were meant to open doors
And we were meant to face the danger
Never knowing what's in store
And never having met a stranger
-I Will Believe

10. Checkmate

The thick trees pressed against each other as if thwarting their king. Many times, Edmund had to call out by Aslan’s name for the Dryads to let lose their branches from each other. No birds’ voices greeted them, and their whole journey through Owlwood became like a dreary dream to him. His mood did not help lighten his thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a great flapping of wings, and a bird’s cry. Edmund commanded Philip to halt for he now rode him, and saw two griffins coming towards them. They had difficulty flying past the treetops for the dryads were trying to shield the Narnian army from prying eyes. By their spotted wings, Edmund recognized them immediately. They were Thoron and Ïck, and were cousins that lived near Cair Paravel.

“My lords-croak- fly!” (Somewhat silly with them using the verb fly, thought Edmund later.) “Hundreds of men on horseback follow with dragons-croak- and other vermin behind them!”

Unconsciously, Edmund shoulders tensed, and his hand tightened on his sword’s pommel.

“How many?”

“Five hundred-croak- at least, your majesty!” answered Ïck, flapping his large wings nervously. Edmund could feel Philip’s muscles tense. He had not fully healed, and was thus still bandaged, and the young king had to be gentle while riding. At the corner of his eye, he could make out the position of Philip’s ears, and he could tell that the horse was waiting for his reply.

Five hundred. Who in the world had mustered them? Edmund shook his head. It didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered now was what they were to do about it.

“Stay close to the trees!” he yelled, and his order was carried out through the long line of soldiers. “We will not attack until deemed necessary!” Thoron and Ïck with several other birds went back to where they had last seen the approaching army, and every half hour would come back to report their whereabouts. It was late now, and the stars had already come.

The night air was thick, and Edmund wished desperately to take his full armour off, but he dared not even though they were only a few minutes away from Shadowstar’s camp. They had just past the last trees of Owlwood, but the idea that enemies were approaching quickened their pace, however.

Unexpectedly, Philip halted, causing Edmund to lurch forward in surprise, and the king realized that he had almost fallen asleep on top of him. “What is it?” he demanded groggily.

“Many hooves, sire!” Edmund tensed as several of the other Narnians started to sniff the air.

“Smells like a man, sire!” said one beaver, and Edmund froze in his seat. Then, out from the trees came several centaurs with a Narnian standard. One, however, was not a centaur, and Edmund stared blankly at the tall rider in full uniform. The rider was helmetless and seemed uptight as he rode up. Ed gulped uneasily as their gaze met.

“You blockhead!” he heard him mutter, but just barely.

Ed smiled slightly. His brother was very much alive.

“Hullo, Pete.”

It was then their enemies attacked.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They came out of nowhere. The Narnians automatically circled around their two kings for protection, and Philip stood beside Peter’s unicorn, who used his horn as it spear, and it was soon covered in red blood. The High King grasped Rhindon with one hand. With the other, he took Susan’s horn and blew it. The magical horn rang clear in the night, and other horns answered its call.

Shadowstar’s troops hurled themselves into the thick of it all, and the Narnian banners flew in the air. Dryads hurled themselves at the enemy, and it was an odd site to see a man taking his sword, and hacking at branches. Meanwhile, the two kings pushed forward, protecting each other as they went. Edmund threw a dagger at a charging human, and for a moment was startled as Peter’s shield covered his face, which had not covered with a helmet.

A flaming arrow bounced of the painted, red lion. Edmund blinked. He hadn’t seen that one coming. He stole a quick, grateful look at his older brother.

“Thanks.” Peter only had time to reply with a quick nod.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

For half an hour they fought, and Edmund and Peter found themselves separated more then once. They were always surrounded by loyal Narnians, however. They would not give up their kings so easily as their enemies soon found out. Thus, Edmund and Peter soon realized, they had silently decided to pull the two monarchs away from each other.

Thus, Edmund found himself separated from his brother yet again in a battle. Fauns, two Dwarves, and Dryads flocked around him, and Edmund had to lift his shield more then once to escape the arrows that came his way. What caused the army the most worry were the dragons.

There were at least two-Edmund could not be sure how many for there was a great many of wings flapping about on both sides-and Edmund heard his brother shouting orders at the Dwarves to shoot at them. Dwarves are deadly archers, and if their arrows did not reach the dragons, they reached someone else instead. It was hard as Edmund tried to not give the enemy the satisfaction of separating him from his brother, nor weakening the army. He lost sight of his brother, and he frantically looked for Peter.

A horn blew, and someone near Edmund blew a horn also. The Narnians were regrouping. The enemy seemed to have sense this, and another wave of humans pushed back at both the two kings. A Faun fell down with a cry, but Edmund couldn’t see who it was in the dark.

Suddenly, a large amount of fire fell from the night air, and landed near Philip. The horse reared in fright, and a shout went out that the dragons were attacking. The fire blazed about them, and licked at the roots of trees. Dryads shrieked, and Edmund found it harder to concentrate with his shoulders beginning to ache.

Philip was moving further into the forest, and the Narnian army, who had been travelling all day, seemed to tire. Edmund knew this, and tried to push the horse back into the fighting. He raised his sword for a moment, and then a startled cry of pain escaped his lips, and his sword fell. His muscles seemed to explode in his right arm, and swell as the thick point of the arrow entered his flesh.

It seemed not know that Edmund was wearing thick armour. His arm seemed to go numb as he rather foolishly pulled the arrow out, and he could feel the sticky blood underneath the mail shirt. He gritted his teeth as he winced, and with his left hand took Philip’s reigns. “Move in!” he hissed, forgetting that his sword now lay on the ground.

The horse didn’t dare argue, but as he charged into a group of men attack Fauns, one of them took notice of Edmund. He lunged for the younger king, who frantically let go of the horses reigns, and reached for his dagger at his boot. The dark man reached him first, and lunged for his heel as if to pull him off.

Somehow, Edmund was pulled off and forced to fall to the ground. He winced at the impact, and was grateful to Philip afterwards as the horse reared, and kicked the man in his face. Edmund sprinted away from the men, trying to find a weapon of any sort. He dodged a sword swinging towards him, but the enemy went down by a dwarf’s arrow.

The dwarf threw Edmund a battleaxe, and even though Edmund had not enough training to actually use the weapon properly, the king was soon in the fighting once again. It seemed like the Narnians were finally winning! However, without realizing it, they had been pushed more into the open, and were becoming easier targets for the dragons.

Edmund was now in the outskirts of the battle, and was once again being protected by a circle of loyal Narnians. Suddenly, there was a loud beating and swishing sound coming from above. As if on cue, many of the Narnians protected their faces with their shields. Edmund, who still had his shield swung on his shoulder, took it now though it caused his flaming arm a lot of pain, and just managed to dodge the dragon’s claws and fiery breath.

The beast must have noticed the royal armour, and came back again more furiously. The Dwarves came, shooting their arrows, but many of them died in the flames that were hurled in their direction. Unexpectedly, the dragon swooped down a third time in his direction, and the flames scorched his shield and gauntlet. The battleaxe had already dropped to the ground, because of its weight.

“Ah!”

His hand released the shield, and unconsciously let himself collapse onto the ground. The wind was picking up, and the armies were being covered in smoke. Edmund’s head seemed to be incredibly foggy as he tried push himself up, although his arm and hand screamed at him not to. Without warning, the king felt a lurch and pull. His feet no longer touched the ground, and his waist was being clasped by dragon claws.

The dragon let out a ripple of laughter, and Edmund could hear the shouts of Narnians below. He coughed, and wildly tried to loosen the claws from around his waist. But the dragon ignored his efforts, and flew him farther and farther away into the night sky.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the country of Archenland, King Lune slumped in his chair with his hand in a tight fist. No one else was in his chamber for his wife and child had already left with the meal half finished. In his hand, he rolled a white object against his skin. He pressed his lips tightly as he reread the message that he had crunched in his other hand. The King chesspiece rolled from his hand, and onto the stone floor.

Checkmate.