TEMPATATION

CHAPTER SEVEN

     As the trees petered out, Aslan's camp came into view before them. Tents of varying sizes were scattered throughout the valley, beacons of comfort to weary travelers such as themselves. Centaurs and fauns coexisted amongst leopards and bears, toiling away in preparation for the battle ahead. From upon a cliff, one centaur spied the humans approaching and in response, lifted a horn to his lips to alert their arrival.

     "I think Aslan may have overestimated us a bit" Peter whispered with a chuckle as he drank in the scene. Susan raised her brows and gave a minute nod. As they traversed the camp, soldiers lifted their gazes with goofy grins before forming a crowd, following the party close behind.
     
"Why are they all staring at us...? Susan asked through a forced smile, glancing uncomfortably at the mob of creatures. All she saw were bared teeth and sharp claws.
     
"Maybe they think you look funny!" Lucy jested.
     
Eilonwy followed close behind with slow and stiff movements, a sense of panic coursing through her veins. She felt everyone's eyes trail from the Pevensies back to her as they stared. Many of them met her presence with confusion and a glimmering semblance of hope, as if they recognized her from a hazy dream. The clanging of metal rang in her ears and something deep inside of her whispered, "Run, escape, and never look back!" Heart pounding, her eyes darted from each of the soldier's faces, her ears standing alert for any murmur of the word princess spilling from their lips. She could almost sense it coming, like a tidal wave bound to engulf her.
     
Sensing her discomfort, Mrs. Beaver peered up at her adoptive daughter with a comforting smile. "You're alright, dear. Just breathe" she whispered reassuringly. Eilonwy simply replied with a weak smile, watching the Beavers for a moment more. Unlike herself, they were overwhelmed with excitement as they approached the largest tent. It was more than obvious who it belonged to. Hardly anyone had ever seen the great, mysterious lion before, yet his name was engraved into the back of everyone's minds from birth. As the crimson tent grew nearer, Eilonwy's panic only increased and deep down, she had no choice but to admit she was completely terrified.
     
With a deep breath, Peter drew his sword and held it high above his head. "We have come to see Aslan" he announced. His eyes flashed to that of a centaur standing guard, who simply nodded before the soldiers behind bowed in unison. A light breeze fluttered the tent's flaps. Eilonwy's heart rose in her chest, her hands trembling at her side. Her abundant adrenaline urged her to run, yet she was paralyzed in absolute panic. Sweat beaded on her brow as the blazing sun threatened to plummet and swallow her whole. And then it happened.
     
One massive paw extended from the tent's entry, followed by the hulking body of the great lion himself. His presence was calm and regal, his fur glinting gold in the sunlight. Eilonwy had expected him to appear much like any other lion she had seen, but standing before him she realized he most certainly was not. He was much larger, a grand and intimidating figure with warm, burning eyes. His motions were fluid and concentrated and he looked upon the humans before him with a wild kindness like that of a mother to her child. A grin spread across Lucy's face at the sight of him, his presence immediately flooding her with a distinct light and joy. Susan retracted inside herself, in awe of the beast's magnificence. Standing beside his sisters, Peter looked upon the creature with an admirable respect and intrigue that Eilonwy almost expected of him. She knelt beside the others, though more because her knees faltered rather than out of genuine respect.
     
"Welcome Peter, son of Adam. Welcome Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve. Welcome Eilonwy, and welcome to you, too, Beavers. You have my thanks" Aslan finally spoke. His voice was booming, deep and authoritative. His eyes landed upon each member of their company as he spoke and as he glanced Eilonwy's way, her mouth ran dry and all the blood drained from her face. Aslan's brows then furrowed in displeasure as he added, "But where is the fourth?"
     
A wave of discomfort washed over the Pevensies as they rose. Sheathing his sword, Peter replied, "That's why we're here, sir. We need your help."
     
"We had a little trouble along the way" Susan added uneasily.
     
"Edmund, our brother..." Peter began, "has been captured by the White Witch." A symphony of gasps and gossip erupted from the crowd behind them, brows furrowing in confusion and concern. The mention of the witch's name sent chills down Eilonwy's spine and her head began to spin.
     
"How could this happen?" Aslan inquired. There was a long moment of silence as each of the siblings averted their eyes. The reason was clear yet they couldn't bring themselves to form an explanation. They couldn't bear to disappoint the beast before them. They were truthfully too afraid of how he would react.
     
Finally, Mr. Beaver stepped forward and spoke. "He...betrayed them, sir" he said. Another round of gasps and gaping mouths from the crowd. Aslan closed his eyes and bowed his head, further discouraged.
     
The adjacent centaur clenched his fists, enraged by such news. "Then he has betrayed us all!" he shouted, breath rapid and jaw clenched.
     "Peace, Oreius!" Aslan commanded, the hint of a growl in his voice. The centaur huffed and composed himself. "I'm sure there is an explanation."
     
Resting his hand upon the hilt of his sword, Peter stammered, "I-It's my fault, really. I was too hard on him." Visions of recent tragedies flashed through his mind, his father's voice echoing in accompaniment. Keep your mum and siblings safe for me, Pete, he had said. You're the man of the house now. Edmund refused to admit he was devastated, locking himself away to conceal his depression. He had grown more and more defensive about the subject, resorting to snark and solitude to mask his pain. Peter had been entrusted to protect him, yet Edmund knew no one, not even his older brother, could replace their dad. Peter was faced with the pressure of doing justice to such a man, yet knew his father would be displeased with his work. The weight of his failure pained his face. Everyone could clearly see Edmund wasn't the only one who Peter was too hard on.
     
Susan softly laid a comforting hand upon her brother's shoulder. "We all were" she admitted sadly. She, too, was dissatisfied with herself. At the meager age of fifteen, Susan was forced to assume her mother's position as they were shipped away from home. She craved order and simplicity yet their journey thus far had been anything but. Nothing could have ever prepared her for the challenges she had already faced, nor those which lie ahead.
     
"Sir, he's our brother" the smallest voice spoke up. Lucy gazed upon the lion before her with a melancholy determination. Regardless of whatever grief Edmund had given her the previous few weeks, Lucy's capacity for forgiveness was astronomical. Aslan, however, was much less optimistic.
     
"I know, dear one. But that only makes the betrayal all the worse. This may be harder than you think" he responded. His once confident presence had quickly diminished into a sullen majesty, discouraged by the complications at hand. However, three of the four chosen ones were still before him. "In the meantime, there are tents reserved for you all. You will find fresh clothes inside and an abundant meal will await you once you finish" Aslan added. Oreius, the centaur, motioned for the group to follow. Eilonwy hesitated a moment, certain that she was excluded from the accommodations. After all, she still wasn't even sure if she was going to stay. It wasn't until the lion nodded in approval that she hastened after the others.
     
Four tents stood in a semicircle to the far right of Aslan's: one for Peter to share with his brother, one for Susan and Lucy, and two small ones for Eilonwy and the Beavers. Still reeling from her recent encounter, Eilonwy pushed her way past the others and darted straight for her quarters without so much as a thank you. Peter eyed her curiously before turning to enter his own.
    
Once inside, Eilonwy threw her satchel, cloak, and the box from Father Christmas onto the cot and let herself come undone. In the privacy of her chambers, nobody could see her crumble. Collapsing onto the grassy floor, she drew her knees up to her chest and began wrapping the frayed threads of her hem around her finger until it turned blue. With labored breathing, she struggled to compose herself. Every little noise caught her attention, her eyes darting wildly to their sources. Her forehead dampened with sweat as she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her skin. She could feel herself cracking beneath the pressure of so much sudden change. The grass scratched at her bare legs and the warm spring breeze wafted through the tent's curtains. It was too much. She tried closing her eyes and steadying her breath but all she saw behind her lids were blue eyes and rampant lions.
     
After a few moments, her panic began to naturally wane and she suddenly remembered the box upon her bed. Hesitating a moment, she leaned over and cradled it in her hands, admiring the artistry of the engravings and the glimmer of the topaz inset. Her finger traced the foreign words inscribed along the side and she pursed her lips at her lack of understanding. Father Christmas's words echoed in her brain: It is a very special box. The topaz embedded inside is a scrying stone. When touched, it can show you anything you wish to see...
     
Eilonwy's hand hovered over the gem with uncertainty, furrowing her brow and biting her lip. With a deep breath, she finally rested her palm over the stone and closed her eyes. The vision was hazy at first but grew ever clearer. She wasn't sure what she expected, but the experience certainly validated the stone's potency. Vivid, familiar scenes flashed before her eyes, her heart wrenching in her chest at their intricate detail. It wasn't until everything abruptly cut to black that she realized she couldn't breathe and she immediately scrambled away from the box, hoping to forget. She refused to speak a word of what she saw.
     
As the afternoon sun sat high overhead, Eilonwy emerged from her tent to find Peter fastening his sword belt around his waist. She was immediately taken aback by the sight of him: in Narnian garb, he was almost unrecognizable and she instantly forgot what he had looked like in anything else. He almost appeared more mature, like a prince rather than a school boy and it wasn't until he looked up at her that she realized she was staring.
     
"Hello" he stated quietly, drinking in the sight of her. She, too, looked much different in her new clothes. With her hair neatly braided down her back, he could better see her round, childish face. The significant lack of stains and tears in her new ensemble radiated a much more sophisticated air and now he was beginning to understand why everyone felt inclined to call her a princess. She approached slowly and cautiously, ignoring the strange sensation once again overwhelming her.
     
"Hello" she replied back. "You, uh, you look nice. Much different than what I was expecting."
     
"Likewise" he added abruptly. He kept repositioning his arms: first lying a hand on his sword hilt, then crossing his arms over his chest, then letting them hang idly at his side. An awkward silence soon enveloped them, neither entirely sure what to say.
     
"Where are your sisters?" Eilonwy finally asked.
     
"They went down to the river to freshen up" Peter replied, glancing toward a dirt path sloping to the stream. Eilonwy gave a simple nod before they slipped back into silence. A nervous energy pulsated between them, the intimacy of the moment weighing on their shoulders. They each desperately wanted to speak yet the words they wished to say tangled in their throats. Finally, Peter took a deep breath and murmured, "I'm sorry, by the way."
     
Eilonwy's head instantly snapped up from her distant gaze, surprised by his vague apology. "Whatever for?"
     
"For what happened in the woods earlier. I never should've chased after you" he explained. A soft oh escaped Eilonwy's lips and she remained silent for a moment. Personally, she didn't want to relive her episodes in the woods-- both her overheated rampage and the apple catastrophe. However, Peter pressed on. "I suppose I was just frustrated. This entire trip hasn't exactly been a summer holiday."
     
Eilonwy chuckled softly, running her hands over the brocade of her new skirt. "Well, wars aren't supposed to be easy" she replied. Peter shrugged with an airy laugh.
     
"I'll say" he replied. "I just don't understand why this is our responsibility. We're from Finchley, we're not heroes." Eilonwy pursed her lips as she listened, realizing he was beginning to confide in her. The prospect of a therapy session once again jolted her anxiety and her eyes darted towards the rest of the camp. She wasn't quite sure what to say-- he had yet to state anything she disagreed with and advice wasn't her forte. After a few more moments of silence, Peter looked to the girl beside him and added, "We just want our brother back." Genuine pain and concern painted his face and Eilonwy instantly detected a weariness of spirit within him. It was the same weariness she saw in herself through dark circles and bony features, the result of being forced to grow up much too quickly. The entire time she had known this boy, his family had always been his top priority. If he couldn't keep them safe, how on earth was he expected to protect an entire country? Eilonwy bit her lip and averted her eyes.
     
Somewhere deep down, she wanted to console him but whatever shards of optimism and compassion she still had were buried below layer after layer of cynicism. Folding her arms across her chest, she shrugged her shoulders and simply stated, "I don't know what to tell you."
     
"Then tell me I didn't mess up. Tell me that I'm not a horrible brother, that I didn't disappoint the entire country by letting Edmund slip away" Peter replied. His voice was laced with desperation and his face grew frantic for reassurance. He needed to know he was good enough, that the mistakes he made could be remedied. The temperature increased. A lump had firmly lodged itself in Eilonwy's throat and she was beginning to feel trapped by a rising wall of human emotion. Her heart raced in her chest and she suddenly grew extremely lightheaded. A sour electricity bubbled up inside of her until it finally exploded.
     
"I can't! I can't tell you that everything will be alright because it probably won't! Nobody walks through the gates of that frozen hell and lives!" she shouted. Peter's eyes widened, shocked by her sudden outburst, until his face quickly hardened and he gripped the hilt of his sword a bit tighter. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Eilonwy squeezed her eyes shut and heaved a massive sigh. "I need to shoot" she added, exasperated, before snatching her bow and speeding toward the archery range. Peter's eyes followed her a moment, brimming with the slightest semblance of tears, before a sudden anger overwhelmed him. With a frustrated groan, he stormed after her.