back, again | prince caspian

seven

Just as the terrible truth of Miraz's betrayal hit me, a wave of dread rolled through my chest. The air was thick with tension, each breath sharp and urgent, as I sprinted toward the ground. The shrieks and cries of my fellow Narnians echoed in my ears, propelling me forward.

Rounding a corner, I skidded to a halt. Archers lined the walls, bows drawn and arrows nocked, waiting for a command that would rain death upon us. My gaze snapped to Peter—petrified, disbelief etched into every line of his face. Nearby, Caspian struggled against a throng of Telmarine soldiers, fighting valiantly but alone. The sight spiked adrenaline through me.

"Fight!" Peter's voice cut through the chaos like a blade, galvanizing the Narnians into action. They surged forward, courage overriding fear, but I felt the mission spiraling beyond control.

For a fleeting heartbeat, the battlefield froze. I caught sight of a fallen Minotaur, lifeless, three arrows protruding from his chest. My stomach lurched.

A sharp whistle tore through the air, and I ducked instinctively. An arrow skimmed past my ear, embedding itself in the stone at my feet. Chaos swirled around me like a living thing, pushing every nerve to its limit.

Peter caught my eye; unease flickered across his face, a silent assessment of the grim situation. Then came the unmistakable clatter of chains—the gates were closing.

"AHH!" A cry from below made my blood run cold. Reepicheep and Trumpkin scrambled down the stairs, panic written across their faces.

I locked eyes with Peter. He understood instantly.

A Minotaur braced against the gate, muscles taut, using every ounce of strength to hold it open.

"FALL BACK!" he bellowed, voice booming across the grounds.

"FALL BACK!" I echoed, desperation clawing through my throat. The Narnians hesitated for a heartbeat, then instinctively retreated a step, comprehension dawning in their eyes.

"We need to alert everyone!" I yelled, urgency tightening my chest. There was no time to linger.

"Your Majesties, I hate to say this, but we have no time!" Reepicheep squeaked, his voice laced with determination. We nodded, trusting the little mouse implicitly.

"I can help," I said, eyes scanning the fray. I lingered, hoping to save just one more life—a faun, coughing blood, faltering on the stones. I darted to his side, slipping an arm around his waist.

"Let's go, come on!" I urged, pushing him gently toward the gate.

Another figure caught my eye—a Minotaur, breath ragged, strength waning. I sprinted to him, checked his pulse, and exhaled in relief.

"Lean on me," I instructed, shifting his weight against me. "You'll make it; we're getting out."

We stumbled toward the gate, the air thick with whistling arrows, but just as we neared safety, a jarring tug yanked me back. Caspian's hand gripped my wrist, anchoring me.

"No! Let go of me!" I protested, digging in with every ounce of strength.

"You can't save everyone if you don't save yourself!" he shouted, urgency bleeding through his words.

"Watch me save everyone!" I shot back defiantly, breaking free and rushing toward the Minotaur again. Arrows zipped past, hissing through the air like deadly whispers, but Caspian moved behind me, shielding me, keeping us both alive.

Time slipped like sand through our fingers. The Minotaur at the gate groaned under the strain, faltering as only a few feet remained to safety. Caspian stepped in beside him, sharing the weight to hold the gate open.