INCIPIENT ➵ EDMUND PEVENSIE

09 | Unworthy of a Name

09 | UNWORTHY OF A NAME

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" a wail sounds in the caliginosity.

    "We've been spotted, Sire," hisses a faun, a bundle of arrows in robust arms.

    "Abort the raid. We're heading back," orders Caspian, his words rapid. He tugs hastily on the straps saddling accoutrements onto the centaur before him, eyeing the surroundings anxiously.

    A projectile launches in their direction and very nearly skims her cheek, its acuate puncturing a tree trunk behind her.

    "Go, go move!" screams Caspian, motioning for all to proceed off Telmarine teritory.

    A concatenation of clamor rang in the silenced night air as five armed figures scuttle in their direction, brutish cries escaping their lips as they ordain for them to halt. They, the authoritative words slipping off their minds like rainwater on a windowpane, recede into the trees and away from the moon's spotlight as quickly as they could.

    She feels Caspian's presence desert her side.

    "Caspian!" she hoots, groping instinctively in the darkness that wraps her vision.

    "Go, I have some unfinished business to complete," Caspian brushes her off as soon as she defines the outline of his physique.

    She notes how Caspian manages to miche the field of vision of the soldiers that are continuing their pursuit into the weald. But that lasts till the split second he manages to carve the second stroke of an 'X' into the wooden panel of a Telmarine cart.

    Truculence intrudes her vision as a soldier, one most vigilant amongst the five, slithers in the direction of Caspian with his sword in hand, its silver plate reflecting the serpentine grin plastered across his face.

    He heightens the blade above his head, his biceps warping in the mo-

    An outcry scrapes her parched throat as she swings herself from the arms of the shadows and towards Caspian's crouched figure, her fingers finding themselves round the soldier's wrist subconsciously and leaving the weapon just a finger's breadth from her skull.

    He shrieks, a scream she has never heard emanate from a grown man ever before as he snatches his wrist to his chest as though he is severely hurt, his sword clanging onto the soil in the process.

    Wheezing, his eyes shoots up to meet hers, a suspension of agony and a tint of malaise attacking his constricting pupils.

    "Monster," is what leaves his lips before he caves to the ground, asphyxiating in his own breaths.

    His chokes reduce to wheezing as he grapples at his chest, his breathing crumbling to inaudible sighs with each passing second. Then, his pupils alter into void spaces that display no life. With the exception of a final twitch of his pale fingertips, there is nothing.