Daggers of Ice

Chapter 38

Where the Western Woods meet the Mountains.

Faelar.

Faelar took his position by Arianna's side.

He did not reach out to her, she needed no comfort. Those in Corradyn's castle would not miss the army that amassed below them.

He glanced at his queen. The sun sunk into her golden skin, shining upon the silver of her armour. She looked like vengeance personified as the light surrounded her. He almost froze as she turned her dark eyes to him, they were filled with fierce determination.

It was written in her eyes.

She would win the war.

"We do not march on the city for the lusting of power! We will protect ourselves from this evil that wishes to burn the land!" Peter's voice was filled with passion, with a fire that did not go unheard as he addressed the troops he stood before; dryad, minotaur, dwarf, animal and fae – the vanguard. Their expressions were one of reverence as he spoke. They had faith in him; their High King. Their cheers erupted like a volcano, just as deafening.

"I see fear in your eyes," he yelled, his scream melting over those before her. "Do not give in to that fear! Fight with me! Today we fight for Narnia! And for Aslan!"

They began thumping their armour with their swords, the sound rising to the sky above them.

"Do not fear death, for death comes to us all!" he bellowed. "On this day let us meet death with the blood of our enemies on our blades! Who will stand with me? Who will stand for the Narnia!"

The warriors before her began to scream louder. Their screams turned into chants.

He rose in the saddle, standing so all could see her as she swept her penetrating gaze over her. "Archers!" Peter's voice rang crystal clear, carrying over the heads of all as he turned to face them atop the beautiful unicorn.

"Take down the wall that bars you to the city! Nothing shall bar us, no mere wall!"

Faelar knew he did not think of the guards who were stationed on the wall, merely doing what they had been ordered. He could not afford to think of them.

...

Myria.

Myria, Corradyn's most trusted scout, atop the tower watched with horrified eyes as the marble gate fell. Her hand tightened on the bow she always carried. Dust billowed upwards in thick clouds, black as the heart of the sorcerer who stood waiting with his own army. She trembled slightly as she glimpsed the witch's army through the clouds.

But not just the witch's army, for behind them road warriors clothed in crimson and gold.

The Narnians.

A figure in armour of silver.

Myria's heart thudded as images darted through her mind.

In a small chamber lined with tapestries from a beautiful city that she did not know.

Emerald eyes laughing in a golden-brown face.

She clutches her head.

The witch.

She was a witch who enchanted people.

Corradyn, her wide and powerful master had told her so. And she knew he would not lie to her.

Why had she smiled at her?

Another memory, of Jenari, kissing her. Holding her tenderly.

His eyes looked at her with such unwavering devotion.