INCIPIENT ➵ EDMUND PEVENSIE

46 | A Bittersweet End of War [I]

46 | A BITTERSWEET END OF WAR

For all of few minutes, it looks as if the fight will be won.
 
    The High King already has the usurper on his knees, gasping from the affliction at his side. His blood runs from the stab and onto the floor.

    Drop, drop, drop-

    Time ticks, but Peter, with the usurper's sword in hand, wavers. And even in defeat, Miraz keeps his insolent nature.

    "What's the matter, boy?" he says, "Too cowardly to take a life?"

    The king still stays his blade, brows furrowed at the man's immaturity.

    "Well, it's not mine to take," he spits, then averts his gaze to the prince. The former beckons him over to take the sword, and with a small delay, the latter does so both eagerly and with shaky fingers all at once.

    A firm pat on the back for Caspian, and Miraz is left to face his nephew, the poor boy whom he has stolen much from, alone. And one would expect him to exude a countenance of great guilt, as what any sensible person should, but no - Edmund hears, with heavy distaste on behalf of the young prince, the usurper cackle something about Caspian having the makings of a good Telmarine king after all, and something about his late father.

    "Has the man no honour?" questions Edmund, only, he doesn't say it in his head.

    Perhaps the enemy heard him.

    All the better, he thinks, and this time he doesn't say it aloud.

    The prince's cry is next to break the dense silence, and with the swing of his weapon following after, he stabs-

    Between the cracks in the concrete at his feet.

    Tears well in his eyes as more crevices form in the cement.

    Oh bother, bother, bother, says Edmund to himself again. Need he be as gentlemanly as all that? But as the prince tells his uncle to keep his life, our Just King has a change in perception:

    I suppose he must, he sighs, exchanging a triumphant smile with the prince as he comes - almost skipping - back to them, Comes of being future King of Narnia. I suppose it is what Aslan would like.

    He watches as the Telmarine embraces Peter by the shoulder, and then, as both punch their fists up in victory after some words exchanged, the Old Narnians begin to shout and rejoice like a crowd at a football match.

    But all too soon, this exuberant moment is snatched away yet again.

    Now Edmund hardly understands what is happening.

    He sees Susan's arrow lodged between a break in Miraz's armour, and though not anywhere vital, the man has crumpled over his knees and slumped to the tiles, looking very dead indeed.