back, again | prince caspian

six

The Griffin landed with a soft thud on the castle bridge, wings folding back like great sails. My heart hammered in my chest as I dismounted, the stone cold beneath my boots, the torchlight flickering shadows across the battlements. Every nerve in my body pulsed with anticipation, the adrenaline coiling tight in my stomach. Edmund was still aloft, preparing to be dropped into his assigned tower, and I gripped my sword until my knuckles whitened. The familiar weight of the hilt grounded me, though doubt gnawed relentlessly at the edges of my mind. 

Were we truly ready for this, or had the Telmarines set a trap we had yet to see?

A shadow swept over the battlements, and I looked up. Peter, Susan, and Caspian glinted in the moonlight as they descended, carried effortlessly by the Griffin. Finally, Edmund's torch flashed—a sudden spark against the darkness—and my stomach tightened in response. The signal we had all been waiting for, the one meant to synchronize our strike, surged like electricity through me.

Peter had reminded us before departure: once Edmund made the jump into his tower, three long flashes would follow—the cue for all of us to charge. I watched him intently, memorizing every movement. Time seemed to stretch and bend, each second taut with tension, until the first flash erupted across the ramparts.

It was short. Too short. My heart sank as uncertainty rippled through the crowd behind me.

"What's happening?" a soldier whispered, his voice trembling.

"I don't know!" I admitted, scanning Edmund, who was already struggling with a Telmarine guard near the tower stairs. My pulse threatened to drown out all sound. Don't lose that torch, Edmund, I willed silently, the signal our only lifeline.

The Narnians around me tensed, faces hardening in a mixture of fear and resolve. I gave a small, encouraging smile, raising my sword just enough to show readiness, a silent signal to my comrades that we were in this together.

Another flash from Edmund cut through the darkness—longer this time. The Telmarine he fought stumbled, his balance broken. A final signal: three long flashes. The beacon shone bright, piercing the night.

"For Narnia!" The words left my lips before I could stop them, a primal cry, a spark that ignited the battlefield. The sound echoed off the stone walls, bouncing back with fierce clarity.

Adrenaline roared through me as I surged forward, steel flashing in my hands. The Narnians behind me echoed my cry, a chorus of resolve that blended with the clang of armor, the yelp of startled soldiers, and the rasp of arrows slicing the air. I slowed just enough to let those behind rush past, a tactic that had always worked, allowing me to aid anyone faltering in the chaos.

Steel clanged against steel as I charged through the fray. Telmarine guards formed a wall ahead, crossbows raised, eyes cold and calculating. One aimed directly at a centaur barely a yard from me. Reflexively, I drew my small knife from its sheath and hurled it with a precise flick. The blade struck the Telmarine's arm, forcing him to drop his weapon, and the centaur charged forward, roaring in defiance.

"Thank you!" he cried, wheels of battle turning faster around us. I barely had a moment to nod before a second soldier lunged, his sword cutting toward the centaur's flank.

"Move!" I screamed, throwing another knife with practiced precision. It found its mark, sinking into the chest of the charging guard. He collapsed, lifeless, and the centaur pressed the advantage, cutting a path through the melee.

My attention shifted to the chaos beyond, and unease gnawed at me. Where were Peter and Caspian? My eyes darted across the battlefield, scanning for the familiar faces that anchored my resolve, but they were nowhere to be seen. Shadows shifted and blurred with clashing steel, and the din of the battle pressed on my ears like a physical weight. Despair brushed at the edges of my mind.