The High Queen II

A force to be reckoned with

Eleanor moved like a storm, her axe a blur as she carved her way through the Telmarine ranks. She wielded it with deadly precision, each swing landing with calculated force, cleaving armour and shields with terrifying ease. Her movements were fluid but fierce, honed by years of training and battle experience, and as the enemy soldiers closed in on her, they quickly realized that she was unlike any other warrior they had faced. She fought like a demon unleashed.

In her other hand, a throwing knife flashed, and in one fluid motion, she sent it spinning into the throat of a Telmarine captain who had tried to sneak up behind her. He dropped without a sound, and Eleanor didn't even spare him a glance as she reached for another knife strapped to her thigh. Around her, the battlefield blurred into chaos, but Eleanor remained sharp and deadly, her focus narrowed on the enemies swarming her.

Two satyrs flanked her, hooves pounding the ground as they charged forward, their horns and swords tearing through the ranks with brute strength. One of them, a satyr with wild eyes and dark fur, let out a battle cry as he clashed with a Telmarine, knocking him back toward Eleanor. Without missing a beat, she swung her axe in a low, sweeping arc, catching the soldier across the knees and sending him sprawling. Before he could even gasp, she drove her blade down, ending the fight in a single stroke.

"Nicely done, Your Majesty!" the other satyr shouted, grinning as he deflected a blow aimed at her. She flashed him a fierce smile before focusing on the next wave of Telmarines charging toward them.

Her muscles burned with exertion, but Eleanor's resolve only hardened. She moved with a brutal rhythm, attacking with all the fury she'd kept bottled inside for years. Every time her axe bit into armour or bone, she felt the weight of their battle and the lives they were fighting for. Her eyes narrowed, and she threw another knife, embedding it in the chest of a soldier who was aiming his spear at the satyr beside her.

Eleanor spun, deflecting a blow with the handle of her axe, and then used the momentum to slam the edge of the weapon into her opponent's exposed shoulder. The Telmarine fell back with a scream, and Eleanor seized the chance to retrieve another throwing knife, gripping it tightly as she scanned the battlefield.

The satyrs moved in sync with her, a trio of unrelenting force. They kept her back clear, allowing her to fight with unmatched ferocity. One Telmarine soldier, seeing the deadly trio, hesitated—but Eleanor was already moving. She raised her axe, bringing it down in a powerful arc. He barely had time to scream before her blade hit home.

Blood and sweat coated her skin, and the scent of battle filled her senses. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but Eleanor felt alive in a way she rarely did, each heartbeat pulsing with the fierce drive to protect her family, her people, her kingdom.

Another Telmarine charged, sword raised, but she dodged to the side and sent her last throwing knife straight into his chest. He stumbled, clutching at the weapon as he fell to his knees. Eleanor didn't waste a second—she closed the distance and finished him with her axe.

She looked up, finding herself momentarily free of opponents, and caught her breath, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield to find Peter and the others. When she did catch sight of Peter, she saw is resolve crumbling.

"Fall back! Everyone, fall back!" Peter's voice rang out across the chaos, signalling the retreat.

Eleanor spun at the call, catching sight of a massive Minotaur bracing the gates, holding them open for the Narnians to escape. She knew they didn't have much time. The Telmarines were regrouping, and every second counted.

Before she could make a move, Caspian appeared at her side, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up onto his horse behind him. "Come on!" he urged, urging the horse forward as they bolted toward the gate.