Will Briar begin a new era of witches, or will history repeat itself? Either way, Edmund won't be tricked twice.
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"If I perish, I perish. You can take my life, but you can't take my will." In which a girl born of Narnia's two greatest adversaries...
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Once they'd reached the fields, the chase was officially underway. A dozen horsemen, clad in charcoal-colored armor, were around two dozen paces behind Briar and Caspian. Their own horses snorted and sneered, saliva dripping from their mouths as their manes whipped in the wind. Destrier and Chace showed more stamina, for they were selected for royalty and had unmatching endurance.
Likely for this very purpose, Briar surmised darkly. Lucky us.
The siblings had galloped alongside the Great River for several hours, the calvary hot on their trail, until the woods appeared in the distance. Briar's body moved naturally with each rhythmic swing of Chace's gate. She reached for her father's compass around her neck, seeing that the arrow pointed north, while the woods set in front of her were northeast. They had arrived at Beaver's Crossing.
"Into those woods!" Caspian shouted behind her, his voice carrying over the torrents of wind. "I will see you there!"
Right. Briar gripped the leather reins tighter. She squeezed her thighs against the saddle, the wind billowing her cloak behind her as they tore through the tall grasses. The grass rippled over the valley in waves, giving it movement as if something was breathing life into it. The moon turned the hills into a soft, shining gray, and felt smooth and ticklish against her ankles.
As Chace beelined towards the trees, Briar formulated a message in her mind. She imagined binding a tether between her and Caspian, like a rope on each of their wrists.
I'll lose them in the woods and meet you at the Ford, she tugged on the connection.
A golden warmth spread through the tether and glowed against her mind. I'll be there, his words floated into her mind. They had formed on their own, evoked in the girl's mind without being prompted. It was as if someone else had written into the pages of her mind. The image of words had fabricated itself from the thoughts of her brother.
Briar steered Chace towards the woods. They loomed out in the distance, growing closer with every gallop. The trees shivered together in the wind, branches of broad, clustered leaves swaying and bending against the thick trunks of wood. Overhead, an inky blue panned the sky, washing out the stars. A stormfront was on its way.
A giddiness still washed over Briar. She was out of Miraz's castle. She was free of the stony, rock prison. Now, all she had to do was lose the calvary.
Glancing behind, the calvary of 12 began shouting to each other. Briar spotted a special helmet at the front, carved, and shaped differently from the others. It was General Glozelle, shouting orders to his men. Seven of them continued to run, hot on Caspian's trail, while five broke off in her direction. Scanning them, she noted Glozelle had gone after Caspian; she only had horsemen to deal with.
Within moments, they burst into the woods. It was like entering a whole, other world. The only sounds were that of the foliage crunching beneath Chace's hooves, and the voices far behind. The trees blocked the wind, so much so that it felt like cotton had been stuffed in Briar's ears, her hearing muffled so that only her eyes took in the vast, endless forest in front of them.
