chapter 20

                                    

                                          
Chapter 20
The Desperate Plans of Mice & Men Often Go Awry
Every bit of Narnian legend said that High King Peter the Magnificent lived up to his title. Though Dahlia believed this to be true, she sometimes found herself irritated that they always had to yield to his orders. This was one of those times.
She, Susan, and Caspian skidded to a halt at a crossroads in the castle. Peter raced down the hallway to their left. He was going back to the courtyard. "Our troops are just outside! Come on!" The girls exchanged exasperated looks and sprinted after him. Caspian followed at their heels.
The pounding of their boots echoed through the courtyard. Telemarines shouted within the castle walls. A few guards left their posts, drawing swords that sang in the night. "Now, Ed!" the High King cried. "Signal the troops!" He parried a strike with his vambraces. Dahlia clenched her fist. The offending guard's armor shrunk and tightened, digging into his skin until it drew blood. He wailed in agony and crumpled.
While the royals handled the remaining guards, Dahlia risked a glance up at Edmund. He was pinned to the parapet by a watchman. His sword and torch were gone. Dahlia whispered to the air. It siphoned itself from the man's lungs. He stumbled back, clawing at his throat, giving Edmund enough time to knock him unconscious.
Dahlia sprinted the rest of the way to the gate. "Peter, it's too late," Susan was begging her brother. "We have to call it off while we can." The light of Edmund's torch flashed above them. Too late or not, the troops were on their way. Peter gritted his teeth and continued to struggle with the wheel. His sister and Caspian turned to Dahlia. Perhaps she could knock some sense into him. Words or weapons would do; they no longer had a preference.
Sparks sprung up Dahlia's arms. They danced in her eyes as she faced the dumbstruck royals. "We're out of options. Help him." Both looked like they wanted to object. Silver spiraled around Dahlia's pupils. The sparks became fire. Susan and Caspian felt the heat pulsing off her skin. "Help him." They did.
The mage whirled on the first wave of oncoming guards. She pushed the heat from her flesh to theirs. Their armor smoldered. Smoke plumed from chain maille and chest plates. Swords clattered as the men tried to pry off their molten armor. Behind her, the gate groaned open. "For Narnia!" Peter's battle cry rang in her ears. In a whisper, Dahlia apologized to Narnia on Peter's behalf. She had never been so certain that a plan would fail.
Dahlia drew her sword. She slit the throat of a charging soldier and shoved the body at a comrade. He collapsed beneath the armored corpse. Dahlia sent fire up her blade. She drove the tip into the cobblestones. Flames raced through the cracks. They chased Telemarines through the battlefield and into the waiting hands of Narnian soldiers.
She became a wisp among men, cutting down bodies unrelentingly. Agonized screams of her troops threatened to crack her focus. She still could not tune them out. In fifteen years of ruling, Dahlia had never lost the gut instinct to run and heal. This often put her own life at risk. 
"Dahlia, duck!" She crouched at Susan's shout. An arrow pierced the throat of a man about to attack from behind. Dahlia returned the favor by setting ablaze an archer whose crossbow was aimed at the queen's head.
The archer beside the flaming one tumbled from his perch. Susan guarded Dahlia's back while the mage searched for his attacker. Edmund stood in the archer's place. She averted her gaze so as not to draw attention to him. Peter did the opposite. "Ed!" The dozen armed men on the parapet turned and aimed. Edmund scrambled for the adjoining tower. He kicked the door shut as three arrows struck the place he had occupied. Dahlia threw open her arms. Crossbows were torn from their owners and flung into the castle's ravine.
Dahlia found Peter amid the massacre. She charged at the man he fought. A tree stood in the middle of the courtyard. Dahlia waved an arm at it. The branches rushed to follow her. They wrapped around the soldier's neck and tossed him to the opposite side of the battle. "Peter, this isn't working!" She gestured to the blood creeping into the cobblestones. "We need to fall back!"
"No!" Peter tugged her behind him. He drove his boot into the chest of a man who had aimed a sword at Dahlia's heart. "I can still do this!"
"Oh, you can?" Dahlia shot a stream of fire over Peter's head. It ignited the soldier about to strike him. "What are you trying to prove?" He groaned and sprinted for a staircase instead of arguing. "Royal dunce," the mage hissed. The sliver of air this produced stabbed a nearby soldier in the eye. While his flailing arms whacked a few Telemarines in the face, Dahlia tracked Peter's path up the stairs. Miraz lorded above the battle on his balcony. His pristine cream dressing gown fluttered in the breeze while thick crimson blood stained the cobblestones.
Dahlia looked away. She leaned out of the path of a slashing blade and drove a kick to the wielder's wrist. He dropped the sword, which she slid to an unarmed faun cornered under an archway. A pained cry scraped her eardrums. One of their minotaurs had grabbed hold of the balcony. An arrow protruded from her abdomen. Miraz sauntered over. He shoved the minotaur off. Dahlia cupped her hands to catch her, gently lowering the injured beast to the earth. A Telemarine took his last strangled breath beside her. Susan jogged forward, her bow still aimed at the man to ensure he didn't rise.
A grinding sound rattled their teeth. The young women turned to see the courtyard's gate beginning to close. Dahlia sprinted for it. She stumbled on a stone slick with blood. Two mice in Reepicheep's garrison scurried over to steady her. As they did, the brother of the fallen minotaur reached the gate. He wedged his wide shoulders beneath the portcullis to hold it open. Strong as he was, he groaned under its weight. He could not hold it forever. Blessedly, his High King regained some sense.
"Fall back!" He hurried down the stairs, waving at Dahlia. She understood. Whirling her hands around each other, Dahlia created a funnel of air and sent it to Peter. It captured his words, carrying the order through the courtyard to their troops. "We need to retreat now!"
The mage whistled for Glenstorm. He found her quickly, galloping through the chaos. Dahlia stamped the ground. Silver energy wove around them. Arrows and blades pinged off as he leaned down to hear her. "Carry Queen Susan out of here and send Figaro to collect King Edmund. He's in the West watchtower." Glenstorm bowed. Dahlia opened her shield just enough to let him through, then brought it tighter around her. She met Peter at the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed her arm, enveloping himself in her shield. "Glenstorm will get your siblings," she yelled, "but you've got to find Caspian!"
"I will! Get a higher view!" Peter broke free of her protection. Silver energy receded back into Dahlia's skin. She called to the air instead. Wings sprouted from her back. Above the courtyard, she took stock of their losses. Narnian and Telemarine bodies bled on the cobblestones. Arrows littered the minotaur's weakening body. More splintered against the ground as Narnians fled through the gate.
Susan crossed the drawbridge on Glenstorm's back. Peter mounted his horse mid-run and followed. Edmund clung to Figaro's neck as the griffin swept them away. All manner of man and beast lay dying in their wake. Fauns whimpered in pain. Men cried in agony. Dahlia angled her wings to land. Healing charms hummed between her lips and fingers. 
Fierce pain shot through her right shoulder. The mage cried out and dropped a few feet, clutching the arrow in her flesh. Miraz sneered from his balcony before disappearing into the castle. Tears stung Dahlia's eyes; they and the burning agony blurred her vision. Her right hand had gone numb. Her hearing began to fade as if someone had shoved cotton in her ears. Blood flowed down her throbbing arm. Dimly, she heard her name before her wings dissipated. Dahlia plummeted. 
Two hands caught her before she slammed into a saddle. The force reverberated through Dahlia and sent a fresh burst of pain through her shoulder. She was on a horse at full gallop. An iron bar passed through her hazy vision; they had cleared the gate. Each movement jostled the arrowhead in Dahlia's shoulder. She wanted it gone, but tearing it out would make her bleed to death. Even small healing incantations were impossible with her strength leaving a crimson trail behind them. Instead, she leaned back against her savior. Their arm snaked around her waist. "Stay with me, my lady." Caspian. "I'll get you out of here. Just hold on."
Dahlia tried to whisper thanks. She may only have thought it. The world was slipping away from her fingertips. Even the Deep Magic could not wake her. Caspian's grip on her waist tightened. Dahlia passed out.