The Unicorn and her Boy

by ChudoJogurt

First published 22nd of August, 2016

Sunset continues her tales and stories, of different world and of different time and of lessons she learned in her adventures

It is also a Crossover with Chronicles of Narnia

Sunset Shimmer is a monster. After the Fall Formal, everyone in the CHS knows this.
But it was not always so. Long before, Sunset Shimmer was a student of Celestia, a magical prodigy and a nice little filly. But the friendship lessons of the kind Princess of the Sun were not the only ones she has learned.

This is story is a tale of one of such lessons - a story of her furthest adventure, her first war and most importantly of all it is a story of her first friend.

P.S.
My greatest gratitude goes to Orbittal Kettle and the true author of the "Sparks on the Wind" for being patient pre-readers and editors without equal. Thank you guys.

Chapter I - What Happened After Dinner

“I cannot imagine, darling, how hard it must have been for you,” Rarity noted sympathetically. “All by yourself, in a new world, surrounded by aliens. I would probably have died on the spot from fear alone.”

“Well, it was easier for me.” Sunset shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “Equestria has many different sapient creatures, and besides, that was not the first time I’ve seen humans — or was in a different world, for that matter. Granted, I’ve never been different species before, but still…”

“Ooh, storytime!” Pinkie chimed excitedly. “Story time?” she pleaded when Sunset seemed pensive.

How could one say no to those large, puppy-dog, baby-blue eyes?

“Fine, I’ll tell you this story,” Sunset relented,“But you guys are paying for the pizza, then.”

As everyone settled around the table and prepared to listen, Sunset gathered her memories in order, poured herself another glass of juice, and began her tale.

“This is the story of how I first met a human and almost destroyed a world. Still, it’s not my story; It is the story of my first friend…”

***

I was just recently out of the Saddle Arabian desert by then, enjoying every little luxury civilized Equestria could offer a mare on Celestia’s money, and I’d almost forgotten my unfortunate romantic attempts. I was getting published in ‘Unicorn Magical Digest’ with my findings on The Amniomorphic Spell’s origins and variations and even got to speak about it at the 'Modern Approach to Ancient Spells' conference.

That night, after the the talks and the workshops, the few of us, young academics, had hooked up and gone out to celebrate with all the hard cider you could get while technically underage. It was me, Legi Lulamoon, Comet Tail, Sunburst, Gerard, the Griffinstonian wizard, and some weird zebra chick whom nopony invited, but she kinda tagged along with us.

We were finally getting properly buzzed and getting into this argument about multiverse theories. Soon, the argument got heated, the spell-constructs started to fly, shots were downed, salt-licks were licked, and generally, I had more fun than I’ve had in ages.

“You can do your caribou voodoo all you want,” I said, waving a freshly opened bottle of cider, “But there is just no way to cross the dimensional borders without a pre-existing sympathetic connection. That was conclusively proven by Clover the Clever!”

“There is a singularity exception in the second part of the Starswirl–Clover equation—”, Sunburst started, but I wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, right! That would require energies that Celestia herself could not begin to operate—’

For the first time in the evening the zebra spoke, her yellow eyes fixed on me.

“You say it as if your conclusion’s forgone. Yet the folly of your words is in the sound of the horn.”

I stumbled mid-rant at her words, as the low, shrill sound of the horn boomed from somewhere outside, and I felt something pull sharply on my mane.

“I… what? Comet, stop pulling on my mane!”

A subtle wind swirled around the table, and I felt another horrible pull, even though it wasn’t Comet… or anyone else I could see.

It was Lulamoon who spoke next, in the same, alien voice “A horn called too early, through fear or pride - for me like a door to a world that's not mine.”

Gerard’s eyes turned as yellow, and he added to his words: “My pupil’s student, who troubled my tomb; you’ll find the knowledge unwanted under a different moon.”

Another call of the horn, and another pull, much stronger than before, squeezed all the air out of my lungs. The walls of the bar spun and twirled around me, as I clung to the cider bottle, trying to keep it together.

Sunburst was next - the same yellow eyes, the same voice that was nothing like his usual timid tone, “If you wish to come back, a lesson have learned, a king to his throne you'll have to return.”

Comet Tail raised his claw - why did he have a claw and yellow eyes? - and snapped his fingers with an echoing, rolling laugh.

And the very next thing, instead of this cozy hole-in-the-wall pub on Canter Alley off Mane Street, I was in the middle of the forest. At night.

And someone was firing crossbows at me.

***

I am not a proud mare, so I can admit, there may have been some screams of surprise. And maybe just a tiny bit of fear.

But six months of roaming the desert, living in the wilderness, staving off sandbeasts and delving into the ruins of the Temple of The Blackened Cutie-Mark had taught me some survival skills. Not so long ago I would not have even considered that someone could have an earnest intent to kill. I would have tried to talk to them, to figure things out, apologize for dropping into their forest even… I would have been dead.

Now, before I even knew what was going on, I had already hit the ground, rolling to cover and released a spell I took a habit of being ready to cast at all times - a mare cannot be too careful, even in Canterlot. The tip of my horn shone brightly and for an instant, the night turned into day as everything drowned in the brilliant white light.

Within the flash of my spell lighting the forest, everything turned stark black-and-white, like a pencilled comic frame, and while the world stood still I could take in the scenery: an unfamiliar forest, a half-dozen strange bipeds armed with crossbows and steel swords on a hill not far from my position and a victim - one of them, sprawled on the ground, his hand raised in defence against their blades.

In a pause born of their fear and confusion, I took my time and summoned The Southern Wind. It is a complex spell, one I studied with Nada, uncovering the name of the willful elemental and weaving it into the pattern of my magic. I used it many times before, I knew it like a back of my own hoof… and it failed utterly. Instead of wind rushing to my aid, a gale to scatter the creatures, my magic called out and nothing came.

It was as if there was no Southern Wind in this place at all as if I was shooting into empty space. And as I stood there like a lost little filly, the enemies - whoever they were - recovered and took their aim.

Bolts flew past me, hitting the trees and the earth; one of them chipped the splinters of the huge oak that served as my cover straight into my muzzle, and I shrieked in sudden fear. The bolt that was mere inches from my head was sharp and heavy; a deadly weapon aimed to murder.

One of them has raised his sword against the defenseless victim on the hill, moonlight flashing off of the blade, and that meant I had no time to be nice. Summoning the best shielding spell I could, and screaming in fear and anger in equal measure, I broke into a gallop towards the shooting creatures, my hooves slipping on the leaves and roots of the trees. They shot again, but the bolts could not penetrate the turquoise dome of my spell; before they could reload, I broke into their ranks.

I grabbed one of them into my magic as I did, and a twitch of my head and an effort of will threw him into the others. A lucky buck to the shin sent the soldier behind me down the ravine, and then the fight spiraled into the chaos of moving limbs and magic blasts, adrenaline and the thumping of blood in my ears drowning out the sheer terror of the combat.

Something cold and sharp raked across my flank. I yelped, more in surprise than pain, and whirled around, shooting waves of flame wildly in every direction. The spell hit the last of the attackers straight on, hurling him clean off of his feet with the ‘whoomp’ of expanding air.

That was the last straw, and grabbing their wounded and screaming something about sorcery and foul magics they ran off.

Only their victim and I remained.

I went up to him to see if he needed some help. He stirred and opened his eyes with a moan of pain. And then he screamed in surprise. Startled by the sudden sound, so did I. It was a whole screaming thing, before the both of us calmed down, and in the pale green light of my magic we could look at each other.

That is how I met my first human.

Author's Notes:

10 points to whoever is first to guess the crossover!

Chapter II - The People Who Lived In Hiding

The human was unlike anything I’d ever seen before — most of all he looked like a shaved baby minotaur. A biped with hands instead of hooves, long, dark mane and small brown eyes, tall and lanky, so high I barely reached up to his ribs with my head when he was standing. He had no coat, but on his tanned skin he did wear some rather complicated garments and armour, and in his hand, he clutched an ivory horn of incredible intricacy.

“Hi,” I said. What else can you say to a person you meet in the middle of the night in a strange forest after a shootout? Daring Do or Agent Drops would probably have some awesome one-liner to say, but I was quite new to adventuring, so “hi” was all I had.

“Hello.” I guess he was also new to the experience of meeting new sapient species in the woods after a fight. It’s always reassuring to know that you’re not the only amateur at the table.

“My name is Prince Caspian.” He was first to break the awkward silence, as he stood up. “The Tenth. Are you a Narnian? I thought you were all extinct”.

"No, I'm from Equestria," I answered, frowning when it prompted no reaction but a helpless shrug. "Celestia's land, straight south from the Frozen North?"

“I don’t think I’ve seen this country on any map that I know of,” he said carefully.

That was strange. Everypony in the world knew of Equestria, the place where Sun is raised and lowered.

"Have you heard of Griffinstone?” I tried and got nothing. “Freeport?” - no reaction. “Saddle Arabia? Dragon archipelago?..." I kept naming every known city and country with ever-increasing urgency, panic rising in me like the mercury in a boiling thermometer as none of them got even a glint of recognition from my new acquaintance.

And then it hit me full force. The strange words something has said to me through my friends in Canterlot. The summons to the Southern Wind that stayed unanswered, The cold, unfamiliar stars and a different moon in the sky. I was in another world.

My knees buckled, and I had to sit down.

“How?” I asked, my throat suddenly dry.

He grasped my meaning somehow. “It is said that once the horn is sounded” he unclasped the mentioned instrument, showing it to me “The help will come, no matter how far away. And I think you are it”.

“I am sorry. I did not know it would bring you. In all honesty, I expected someone else” He put his hand upon my shoulder - a gesture of comfort. His hand trailed along my barrel, and I hissed in pain.

“You’re wounded” he noted, surprising me. In the heat of the battle I barely felt the wound, but now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, the dull ache of it was coming back.

“Let me help”. He ripped bits of his shirt off, tying it like a bandage around my barrel. I twisted my head, watching his hands with fascination - little fingers, so much more delicate than minotaur’s, moving with the dexterity of a unicorn’s magic - hardly any need to use his teeth or mouth. It was weird and amazing at the same time.

“We should be walking. They will come for me again soon”. He said, after tightening the last knot.

“Ouch! Careful there!” I hissed with pain. “And speaking of - who were those guys?”

***

As we made our way through the crude untended woods, struggling to push through brambles and bushes in the dark, he told me his story, and it was so horrid, I could barely fit it in my mind.

"So you are saying," I repeated, probably for the hundredth time, "That this land is called Narnia, and you've never even heard of Equestria?"

He did not answer, tired of my repetition, but he did not have to. That much I already knew...even if I struggled to accept it. The next bit was somewhat harder to swallow.

"And you me summoned here with this horn, because you are a Prince," I gave his scrawny figure a pointed look - an effort entirely failing to convey my doubts that this biped could possibly claim the same title as Celestia, "of a country of bald monkeys like yourself, and your own uncle tried to…” I hesitated for a second, reluctant to even say the word “...kill you to usurp the throne, and you are trying to find the aid of the creatures like minotaurs and griffons that your people have destroyed."

"Yes".

The simplicity, the casualness of his answer still chilled me to my core. There had not been a murder in Equestria for centuries. For hundreds of years, for as long as anypony save for maybe Celestia remembered, no sapient being has taken the life of another and to even consider such an act was unthinkable to me. Fillicyde and genocide, war and murder...

I set the thought aside, still unable to fit it in my mind, and pressed on with my questions:

"And those 'Narnians' they're going to help you why, again?"

He shrugged helplessly, mostly because he did not have much of an answer. "We have the horn and your magic. We can help them and they - us. There must be a way..."

"That's not exactly inspiring—"

“Quiet.” Caspian gripped his saber, listening into darkness.

“No, that’s an important—”

“Did you hear that?”

I shut up and looked frantically around, trying to figure out what he meant, adding more light to my horn to push the darkness of the night a little further away. In the unsteady silence of the forest, we listened intently, blood thumping in my ears like a drum.

A snap of the twig somewhere, like it, would break under a heavy iron-clad boot. I shivered and prepared a spell to cast, my ears twitching.

A flutter of wings - maybe a bird scared by the hunters. Caspian grip on the hilt tightened, as he adjusted his footing.

A movement somewhere in the corner of the eyes - a gust of wind, or an enemy sneaking to a better position? My nerves stretched to their thinnest I held my breath.

Something moved in the underbrush, rustling the tall grass and making hemlock flowers swing, before disappearing. Then again, closer to us.

“They are surrounding us,” Caspian said, drawing his weapon “Come out and face us, whoever you are!”

Another rustle and I lashed out, my magic fed by my fear turned to a gale, and under the cover of the green, grey backs of giant, two-feet-tall mice appeared before vanishing again into the grass, not ten feet from us.

“They’re rats!” I screamed, exploding with magic and fear. Trees split apart with my spells, grass burned and the earth turned inside-out as I flung spell after spell blindly in my utter revulsion, failing to hit the impossibly agile zig-zagging creatures, and only by miracle not hurting Caspian.

“Giant ra--” something sharp cut me across my leg and I fell on my knees, letting the mouse’s tiny paws grip my mane and climb up my back, stinging me fiercely with its weapons as it did.

“My name is Reepicheep, and I am no rat!” The mouse declared boldly, straddling my back.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH! IT'S ON ME! IT'S ON ME! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF MEEEEE!"

My reply was slightly less courteous and witty, as I screamed like a little filly, and bucked like a rodeo pony, trying to shake the giant mouse off me. He held fast, gripping my fur, and swiftly scuttled up along my barrel. And then something very small and very sharp was pressing insistently right into my jugular and I froze mid-step. Even though I could not see what exactly it was, I had absolutely no doubts that whatever spell I might try, I’d bleed out faster than I could finish it.

I stole a glimpse at Caspian, but he was in the same position as me, held at a swordpoint by another mouse standing on his chest.

“Choose your last words carefully, traitor!” The mouse had a very high-pitched voice, but in my predicament somehow that failed to be funny.

“Err… can I have few minutes to think?” All my snark abandoned me at this crucial moment. I tried to move my head a bit, to get a better glimpse at the attacker, and maybe move my undefended neck just an inch away from the sharp thing poking it...

“No.” the tiny paws pulled on my mane with surprising strength, and I could already feel the cold steel cutting through my skin.

“Stay your hand, noble mouse!”

“And why would I do that?” the mouse straddling me asked suspiciously, halting his sword nevertheless.

I exhaled very, very carefully, and hoped that Caspian knew what he was doing.

“My name is Prince Caspian” even as his voice wavered, he still tried to pretend to be calm “I came to these woods seeking help…” under the unrelenting gaze of a mouse holding him at a rapier-point he pulled the horn off his belt and showed it to them. “And to offer help in return”.

“The Queen’s Horn!” the mouse let go of my mane and jumped towards Caspian forgetting all caution. He grabbed at the horn, as if expecting it to disappear and ran his little paws all over it’s filigreed ivory “My father has told me about it, as his father told him, and his father before that.” his already high-pitched voice broke “Tell me you sounded it, oh son of Adam!”

“What is it with you ponies… mice… persons and this horn?” I muttered. Not that I minded not being held at swordpoint anymore, but the sudden lack of attention did make me feel underappreciated.

“It is said that this horn was given to The Gentle Queen of Old by Aslan himself” Reepicheep’s tail swished in excitement “And it is said that if a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve would sound the horn in Narnia’s hour of need, the High King would come!”

“I sounded the horn,” Caspian confirmed, gesturing towards me. “And she came to save my life.”

“Her?” she looked at me, incredulous “Her magics are impressive, but she’s it’s just a foal!”

“Hey!” I protested as Caspian shook his head.

“She has been sent to us, so that must be Aslan’s will.”

“But... the High King! And Kings and Queens of Old!” Reepicheep tried to protest, as I lifted both mice off Caspian gently with my magic.

“I’ll be sure to mention that to Aslan next time I meet Him, noble mouse,” Caspian said somewhat testily, as he stood up. “Meanwhile we must needs do with what we have, and trust me, what we have is plenty.”

Reepicheep bowed courteously, sheathing his sword. “If your Highness says so, I shall not doubt your word. We will gather the true Narnians come dawn in the meadow by the Beruna river, and they will listen to what you have to say, Prince of Telmarines. More than that I cannot promise you.”

He turned away, dropping back to all four, almost disappearing in the thick undergrowth of the forest, and waved his mice away with a commanding swish of his tail “Come, boys, it is time to rouse the Narnian forces! True war may be upon us!”

“Huh.” the fear of near-death releasing me at last, I could feel blood rush back to my limbs.

“So… why are they calling you a Son of Atom? You’re not radioactive, are you?”

***

The concept of radioactivity was as unfamiliar to Caspian, as were these woods, so by the time we got to the river we assumed to be Beruna and the meadow Reepicheep mentioned I was dead on my hooves and the night was almost ready to yield the sky to the first rays of dawn.

Others were already waiting for us. Under the alien skies, in the dark, wild woods so unlike the tame groves of Equestria, on a small meadow where mistletoes joined the trees together in a single canopy, and wild roses grew in every shade of yellow they gathered. Minotaurs and griffons, both similar and different from their Equestrian cousins. Wolves and large cats, their vertical eyes betraying an equine intelligence, unnatural to predatory beasts. Tiny humans, barely my size, who called themselves “dwarves”, and stranger still - the half-pony half-human hybrids, twice as big as even the tallest Arabian horse and thrice as tall.

“What is this, Reepicheep?”
“Why is a Telmarine here?”
“Who is he?”

Whispers and questions rolled around the crowd, as they looked at us with the same bewilderment as I looked at them.

I gulped and tried to hide my fear, pressing into my companion’s leg for comfort. Caspian had no such fear… or he was better at pretending than I was. He stepped forward, into the pale light of the moon.

“I am a Prince...” he said. And this time, I almost believed him. He was but a child - cold, wet, scared and tired. He was surrounded by creatures he only knew of from legends and horror stories. Yet even when trembling, his voice was somehow enough to silence the crowd.

“I’ve come seeking your help and to give you my help in return. Outside these woods, I am the rightful heir to the throne of Telmar.” His voice grew with every word he spoke, as he found his confidence, until it filled the air, calling the attention of everyone gathered. “With your help - all of you - I can get it back. We can forge the peace between our peoples, and return everyone gathered here”— and I knew it was for my sake when he said this — “to their rightful homes.”

“How would it be different this time?” somebody from the crowd asked, bitterly. “We’ve tried to resist them so many times. But they have the numbers and weapons, and the machines for murder. They will crush us again, and this time the Old Narnia shall be no more.”

“This time it will be different.”

How could he have sounded so sure, when I knew for a fact that he had his doubts?

“The Horn of the Queen has been sounded and answered. We have now magic on our sides the likes of which no Telmarine knows. You’ve taught them to fear the woods, and now they shall fear the earth, the flame and the water just as much!”

“‘Tis the truth,” Reepicheep added from his place “I’ve seen it with my very eyes, and it was unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

The larger of the ponymen stepped forth from the shades of the meadow.

“My name is Glenstorm of the centaurs, and my kind and I have long watched the stars, for they are ours to watch. This night, Tarva, the lord of victory and Alambil, the lady of peace, have come together in the high heavens - the sky itself tells of the truth of her words. The centaurs shall join the Red Witch and the Telmarine, and reclaim Narnia.”

A dwarf, clad in black and rust, spoke next.

"Why should we cast our lot with the unicorn? She doesn't care for us, or for Narnia. She comes with the human, the Telmarine at that." He spat the last word from behind his yellow crooked teeth. "The horn proves nothing but that those barbarians stole yet another thing from us.

“We have the Blood of Adam here, we can summon another Power. Power besides Aslan or sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. Older Power, that held Narnia spellbound for years and years. A sure Power that would wipe the ugly invaders off the face of our lands!”

“The Witch…”
“The White Witch…”

“Yes, the White Witch, the Lady of eternal winter, the ruler of Narnia before all those pesky humans came and took our lands!”

“Would you have this boy go against Aslan now?” a badger asked, shocked by the proposition.

“Aslan isn’t here, Trufflehunter…” the last of his words were drowned out in the angry shouting of the crowd, and frowning dwarf stepped back reluctantly, his black eyes watching me with a burning intent.

“We badgers remember well that Narnia was never right, except when Son of Adam was King,” Trufflehunter concluded. “We shall go with the Telmarine and the unicorn, and reclaim the Old Narnia.”

“The hearts and swords of the Mouse Guard are at your service, Your Highness,” Reepicheep threw in his lot with us.

After that, it’s been decided. All of them gave Caspian their loyalty and that is how I started my first war.

Chapter III - How They Came From The Island

Over the following months, our forces grew in size and in boldness as we raided the Telmarine convoys and forts. We gathered the weapons and the food for the troops, instruments to fix our bases and defences, materials for the impromptu lab I had organised. Soon the forest burrows were too small for us and we took Aslan’s How as the base of our operations, turning a hilly mound into an impenetrable hidden fortress for an army of rebels. And no life was lost - that was the pact Caspian and I have made.

All of my homesickness and longing for Canterlot and my home I’ve poured in my efforts to help, allowing myself to be subsumed in the busywork of the war, trusting that either Caspian restored to the throne, or perhaps a fulfillment of the strange prophecy or curse that sent me here, would somehow find me a way back home.

My magics and alchemy, from the cover of Arabian dust-storms to the mercy of Zebrican sleeping dust, turned the rag-tag bunch of creatures into a formidable force, and with Reepicheep's mice and griffons we saw every movement the enemy could make, while staying unpredictable and elusive, always several steps ahead of opponents.

We descended on their garrisons and supply lines like timberwolves on the fold, appearing out of the woods in the thick of the night, scaring men and scattering herds and horses, and disappeared like ghosts back into the cover of the forest, burdened with gold, food and arms.

But while it has allowed our small force the means and strength enough to have no need of taking lives, all the magic that I had did nothing to quell their desire to do it. Centuries of hiding and being hunted like animals took their toll on Narnians, and many were all too willing to take it out on the Telmarine invaders.

It was with my insistence and Caspian's boundless charisma, that it became the point of pride among even the most warrior-spirited centaurs and brutish minotaurs to boast not of the foes they vanquished but their cunning and cleverness in dispatching them without so much as drawing blood.

And through it all, Caspian and I acted hand-in-hoof, bonded as two strangers in a strange land. He rode at the front of every battle, his sword sharp and his lance keen, his shining helm in the first line of attack - a living example and inspiration to the Narnian forces. He took command in battle with brilliant tactical instinct and he never forgot to offer mercy and aid to those who surrendered. Meanwhile, I aided our forces with my spellwork and worked out supply and logistics and always, always had his back in battle and out, just as he had mine.

More than once in the deep raids, we’d share the last of our supplies between the two of us and the silly boy would try to give me his share, even though I could subsist on leaves and grass. And more than once we’d share his cape as our only protection from the elements.

We may not have been true friends, but he was my ally, my comrade in arms and сompanion…”

***

“Oh, that is so romantic!” Rarity exclaimed, her eyes shining with utter glee. “A sorceress and a dashing warrior prince!”

“Romantic?” Sunset asked uncomprehendingly. “What? Eww, no, Rarity, how could you even… eww!” She shuddered in revulsion.

“Why, what is the matter, darling? You describe him as brave, chivalrous and most gallant, and he was a prince to boot. I say I would have jumped at the opportunity.”

“Ice and Nightmares, Rarity, I was a pony. A magical talking equine, Discord’s sake, and he was a human. I didn’t even consider that! It would be weird and wrong and not to say weird, and I am sure neither did he!”

“Oh. Well, yes, I suppose that would be strange.” At least Rarity had the decency to blush at the mental image. “Sorry darling, it’s just sometimes hard to imagine you as a pony. We only know you as a human after all.”

“...as I was saying” Sunset returned to the story forcefully. “We were doing pretty well. That is, until that one day when the Pevensies came and crashed our world...”

***

“We were returning from the another attack on the Telmarine supply chain, our soldiers struggling under the burden of the trophies. We were deep within the forest Telmarines have long been taught to dread, so we were more than a little bit careless.

“Come on, you must admit, that bit when you jumped on the soldier’s horse and threw him into a tree was awesome!” Still giddy with the excitement of the fight I was chattering endlessly, trying to pry a smile out of Caspian. “You should’ve said something cool, like ‘heads up!’”

“I prefer to conserve my breath in a fight,” he answered reasonably, but I could see the sparks of laughter welling in his eyes. “But yes, that was quite ‘awesome’, as you say.”

“You should take lessons from Reepicheep. That guy has the best zingers.” I bumped him in the hip with a shoulder and he bumped me back, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. All was well in the world.

I slowed down, trying to catch the rays of the sun with my muzzle, and stood there for a few seconds, just enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasted. Birds were singing their chirpy accolades and the summer was getting into its right, bringing warmth to the forest.

For a second there the world hung in a perfect balance.

And then a shout and a clang of metal on metal broke the silence, right ahead of me — where Caspian disappeared from my sight. Raising a cloud of dust with my hooves, I rushed to his aid.

On a small meadow behind the giant oak, Caspian was engaged in battle with another human, parrying the blows of attacker’s sword with his own still-sheathed saber. His opponent was as young as the Prince himself, yet he was stronger and almost as fast, and Caspian who had no trouble fighting Telmarine soldiers was retreating under the barrage of powerful strikes.

I concentrated on my horn, summoning my magic when out of nowhere an arrow swooshed past my muzzle, headed straight for Caspian’s back, and it was only by the thinnest of miracles that I managed to catch it mere inches before it found its target.

There was no time now to help Caspian with his foe — the archer kept moving, shooting arrow after arrow with impossible speed and precision. Thin needles of death filled the air, searching hungrily to pierce me or Caspian, and it took all my speed and skill to deflect or grab them with my magic.

I was sweating bullets, the deadly game of catch leaving me with barely any time to spare even a glimpse of how Caspian was faring when something made the hairs of my mane stand on their edge. I didn’t so much hear his footsteps — he made no sound as he crept up to me — but rather I felt his approach with an instinct so honed in these past months. I ducked and rolled and a short sword, as sharp as a razor, whizzed past me, slicing a few strands off my coat.

Desperately I threw the arrows I held in my magic at him and his sword twirled into a blur, cutting them into splinters, his step barely slowing down.

Now there were two of them - the archeress and a black-haired boy with a sword, acting with perfect synchronicity, as I dodged, rolled and blocked steel and arrows alike, retreating further and further from Caspian, attempting to find a respite from the stinging death between the wide trunks of trees.

Distance regained with a few well-placed fire-bursts that staggered the swordsman, I used the moment I won to summon the Scourge of Shahab. My magic wove the winds and dust into a thin whip spanning from the tip of my horn dozen of yards of its coiled length - another spell I learned with Nada. It was the desert magic - thin and sharp and well-used for combat.

I rolled my head, spinning the summoned weapon to cut the assailant’s legs, forcing him into a long, lunging roll across the ground. He came out of the roll throwing a handful of leaves and dust into my eyes, trying to blind me. Another crack of the whip made him dodge again, as a side of a far tree burst into splinters and leaned precariously when the Scourge hit it, nearly cutting it in half.

A red figure slipped from behind the falling tree - the archeress looking for a better cover - and as I retreated, half-blindly, I swung the whip around again and released it, turning its length into a swirling tornado of earth and air, hurtling towards the girl. The swordsman, recovering from his last dodge, was already in the air, as he jumped towards me, closing the distance.

“Sunset, allez!” Reepicheep appeared out of the undergrowth onto my back in a practiced maneuver. Propelled by my magic, he jumped towards the assailant, knocking him out of the air into the ground, as the tiny rapier of the mouse Knight of Narnia crossed the attacker's sword. A high-pitched battle cry echoed across the battlefield, joining the clanging of swords and whish of arrows.

That was all the breather I needed to focus upon the archer-girl, who was still regaining her position from the whirlwind I threw at her face.

I couldn’t see her, but even without it, I could almost feel her drawing her bow. Never before have I weaved a spell with such speed and precision, the sigils and energies joining together like perfect mechanism before I hurled it at her.

She dodged it effortlessly, of course, but she was not the true target. The tree I hit shone with the green light of my magic, and the next arrow she let loose veered off course, hitting it instead. Then her bow ripped out of her hands, sticking to the very same tree, as like called to like and life pulled to life. Soon leaves and branches lifted off the ground in a maelstrom centered at the target of my spell. The archeress’ feet finally slipped and she fell towards the tree, thunking against its trunk with enough force to knock her out.

“Yield, and you shall be spared!” Caspian’s voice boomed across the forest and everybody froze at the command of his voice.

The archeress was pinned to the tree, the smaller boy was down on the ground, sword knocked from his hand, ‘Chips rapier at his throat. Caspian had his attacker’s sword, holding him disarmed at a blade’s length. Our other forces had already surrounded us, readying crossbows and axes for our support. The battlefield was ours.

“Yield…” Caspian repeated, all confidence fleeing his voice, giving place to surprise “my King?”

“Pardon me, Your Majesties.” Reep lowered his rapier as well, “If you’ve only declared Your presence...”

“Huhbhuwhat?” it was nice to see that Celestia’s lessons on rhetoric paid off. I was as eloquent in my surprise as ever.

“Oh my gosh, she is so cute!” Something squealed so high, I thought it was one of the Chips guys and little hands grabbed my mane. “With the mane, and the big eyes, and the little sun on her side!” Apparently, the little girl found me huggable, because the next thing I know I was nearly fly-tackled out of nowhere by a hyperactive midget.

I hesitated for a second, trying to figure out the proper etiquette for getting petted by a Princess, but finally decided that my dignity was a tad more important. Grabbing her with my magic, I moved the child away from me, hanging her in the air.

“Hey! Personal space, much.... Your Majesty” I added, just in case. Let no one say that Sunset Shimmer does not have good manners. Even if I don’t always elect to use them.

“Can we keep the beautiful magical unicorn? Please? I will feed her, and walk her, and hug her…” little fair-haired human female twisted in my magic, still trying to pet me.

“There will be no keeping of the unicorn, please,” I said sourly, and released the midget from my grip, dropping her on the grass. Granted, it has been some time since I was called “beautiful”, but being treated like a pet did nothing to improve my disposition.

“She is no common livestock,” Caspian rushed to my defense, “This is Lady Sunset Shimmer of Equestria, Baroness of Winsome Falls, my friend and second in command.” He raised his voice, declaring to everybody else “And these are Kings and Queens of Old, come to our aid!"

As Caspian introduced them both to me and to our soldiers, recounting their names forever fixed in Narnian legend and lore, I took a stock of our invaders, finally having time enough to spare them a good look:

“Peter, the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel…”.

Peter, the High King was about the same age as Caspian, but they could not have been more different. Where Caspian was lean and sinewy, Peter was stocky and well-muscled, strong for his age but far from slow. His skin was light, almost white compared to Caspian's tan and his light-brown hair and blue eyes were unlike that of any Telmarine.

His sword, now in Caspian’s hand, fitted him perfectly - a straight and heavy thing that seemed clumsy compared to light Telmarine sabers and scimitars: an inelegant weapon from a bygone age. It had a name of its own, a name even I knew, of the same Narnian legends that were told around our forces’ campfires and recounted on the walls deep in the Aslan’s How alongside those of the Kings and Queens.

It was called Rhindon - Rhindon the Wolfslayer, Rhindon the King’s-sword, Rhindon the Spell-Shatterer and Witch-bane, depending on whom you’d ask. It was a brother to the Horn that summoned me through the incomprehensible abyss that separated worlds, and it doubtlessly had a magic of its own, even if I could not sense it.

“Susan the Gentle, Queen of Narnia, Duchess over Great River and all its Provinces, Lady of the Horn…”

His sister was very much like him - same round face, same brown hair, tied in a simple tight braid, same blue eyes. She was taller than him, even though she was younger, and not as powerfully built as her brother. But judging by the speed and the power with which she shot at us, her flowing figure concealed formidable strength -- probably strength enough to give the High King the run for his money were he a fool enough to challenge his sister to an arm wrestling competition.

“...Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March..”

Edmund, the younger brother was the odd one out of the bunch. His features were thin and well defined, dark eyes watching carefully and sharply from underneath unkempt black hair. Instead of reveling in the greeting, as his brother did, he had already sheathed his sword and tended instead to his sister, just coming to.

“..and Lucy the Valiant, Queen of Narnia, Marchesa of Beruna, Baroness of the Dam, Beloved by Aslan.”

To the little girl that tried to hug me I would not have spared another glance, if not for her last title. And once I did, I could not help but notice that something was off about her. Something in her steel-colored eyes that kept looking at me with a childlike wonderment, that I just could not place my hoof on... but then I hardly knew a thing of human foals.

“And my name is Caspian, Crown Prince of Telmar,” he concluded his introductions “I was the leader of the Narnian forces.”

“A Telmarine leading Narnians against Telmar?” The High King mused, relaxing a little now that hostilities were discharged and weapons of our armies gave way to cheers and hushed whispers of awe. “A rather curious arrangement I’d say.”

“A common enemy unites even the strangest of fellows, your Majesty” the badger that once was one of the first to give his loyalty to Caspian, was apparently just as quick to give it to the next big thing that came along.

I turned away, every cheer given by our ranks to the complete strangers making my mood progressively worse. Whoever those guys were, they seemed to completely hijack our operation, taking instant command of something Caspian and I spent months building up. Somehow this hardly seemed fair, and the fact that Caspian just yielded up without even so much as them asking just aggravated me further.

"You'll be quite fine, Su." Edmund's businesslike tone interrupted whatever Peter was about to say. "no concussion and nothing's broken."

Lucy put her hand on the small diamond vial on her belt reflexively. That'd be the last of Royal Treasures of Narnia, the gift of the Valiant Queen, and a magic I was somewhat more accustomed to and could recognize - a healing cordial that could save a pony from the brink of the death and heal any wound or disease. Back home Celestia made this potion but once a year, on the day of the Summer Sun at the peak of her power, weaving distilled rays of sunshine into less than a dram of the precious liquid. To see a little girl with a whole flask of it defied imagination.

"Now, Lucy, go apologize to the nice unicorn lady," Edmund said sternly, to his younger sister "You were being quite rude."

"I'm sorry," The child said, twirling her thumbs, "It's just you're so cute!"

I nodded back, reluctantly - no harm was done after all, save for some of my dignity.

"Have any of you seen Aslan?" she asked, suddenly, her eyes hopeful.

I did not share in her enthusiasm. Quite the opposite - if she wanted to find a topic of conversation to make me even more annoyed, she could not have possibly done any better.

“No.” Caspian said, “and we have been looking for Him.”

Aslan was a sore point for me. A True King of the land, as powerful, as Celestia herself, if one trusted the descriptions Narnians told in hushed tones, a lion, of all the scary creatures of this world… and entirely absent for millennia, abandoning his subjects in their time of need.

“Hay, half our guys would run off to search for Him if there was any hint of Aslan anywhere,” I added grumpily. “Apparently no one has seen Him in ages.”

“Well, maybe that’s because they don’t believe in Him!”, the little girl stomped her foot petulantly. “Maybe you think with your fancy magics and army you don’t need Him— “

“Lu, stop.” Peter said, tired of the clearly familiar argument “I think we’ve all waited for Aslan long enough. We have an army, and we will need every sword.”

“Then you’ll probably need yours,” Caspian noted dryly, returning Rhindon to Peter.

"And the ones we have secured today." Perhaps I was just being contrary and rude, but I think it was a bit forgivable given that I was nearly killed. And also nearly hugged to death by a crazy girl. "Which we really should finish getting back to the base."

***

I bumped Caspian’s hip with my hoof while we walked, and we lagged behind the Pevensies, as I quietly demanded an explanation.

“Why did you let them take charge? That’s our army. We made it, not them!”

Caspian shrugged helplessly. “Sunset, they are the true kings and queens, the rightful rulers of the realm. Everyone knows that.”

“But they’re just a bunch of kids!” I protested in the same hushed whisper.

“Sunset, look at them,” Caspian asked. He crouched by my side and put his hand on my shoulder, guiding my sight. “Really look.”

And then I saw it. Yeah, they were just children, Peter barely my age, Lucy maybe in her eighth year, but if you really looked you could feel an almost tangible air of power and majesty hanging around them like a cloak. The earth itself seemed to sag under the gravity of their presence where they walked, chatting carelessly, artifacts beyond any price or value at their side like common trinkets. They really were Warrior-Kings and Queens of Old, used to combat and command, fit and summoned to rule their land, and even the little brat seemed to shine with a light reflected from outside this world.

“Fine.” I submitted. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Author's Notes:

Special thanks to Goldenwing to giving his critique of the combat scene in this chapter.

Chapter IV - Sorcery and Sudden Vengeance

Caspian did not leave command as easily as I thought because when we got to the How and moved away from the soldiers, the argument between Peter and Caspian really took hold.

“Look, I appreciate what you’ve done here...” Peter said insistently.

“Khmflankhole,” I sneezed. Loudly. Some of the centaurs and minotaurs behind me sniggered. You can always count on some equine solidarity, no matter the world.

“...But this isn’t a fortress.” The High King clearly heard me - I could see the tips of his ears turn red, but apparently, he chose to ignore my comment. “It’s a tomb. There are armies and siege engines outside the forest, making their way here. We’ve seen them with our own eyes. Once they get here, it would all be over but the heroic last stands.”

“We can take the fight to them,” Edmund noted, looking at my maps. “The numbers are up to date, right?”

I rolled my eyes. Between Reepicheep, the griffons and our spy in the castle, we had a pretty good picture of Telmarine forces. ”Yes, they are. And we considered it, but it would be a bloodbath if we tried to take that castle.”

“But we could take it! Surely ending the war in a single strike would be worth…”

“We are Narnians,” Caspian spoke softly, yet his tone brooked no argument. “We do not kill.”

“Is it because we’re Narnians, or because you’re a Telmarine?” Peter asked pointedly.

“Peter!” Susan raised her head from her arrows, “That was uncalled for.”

He looked like he would try to argue, but under his sister's glare thought better of it. “I apologize, Your Highness” he semi-bowed formally. “I was out of line, and there was no offense meant.”

“And none taken.” Caspian returned the bow gracefully. “Yet, still I disagree, my King. We are well defended here, and the woods provide ample supplies. We have burned their encampments three times now, surely the fourth would not be any different.”

I let Caspian and Peter’s argument fade away, even as other lieutenants joined their heated debate, and looked instead at the map over Edmund’s shoulder, adding a suggestion or answering a question in quiet whispers.

Caspian may have had instincts of a perfect tactician, but the strategy was definitely not his domain. With every counterattack we took on Telmarine forces they became better defended, more secure. We could pull off one more arson or smash-and-run, maybe two with some luck, but after that, we’d probably start losing our soldiers... or have to resort to murder. And both were utterly unacceptable.

Watching Edmund’s plan take shape with every sure stroke of the coal on the parchment, I could not help but appreciate the idea. Ending the whole war with one fell swoop, instead of slaving away in these barbaric woods for another half a year. Concentrate on finding my way home instead…

Finally, the plan was put in full on the map - simple, elegant and as far as I could ascertain, entirely plausible. We could do it, and nobody had to get hurt… well, at least no one would die.

“What if we take out the barracks first?” Edmund called to arguing monarchs, not a moment before their debate turned into just yelling at each other, “A three-pronged attack, to take out the leadership, the soldiers and the gates before anyone can do anything. Quick, silent and bloodless.”

“It would work,” I backed the little princeling up.

”It’s still too risky,” Caspian said at the same time.

He looked at me in surprise. We were usually more of one mind.

“Griffons won’t work,” he repeated. “We taught them all too well to fear the skies as much as the woods”.

“There is another trick I’m yet to try.” I grinned smugly, “We can get there unnoticed, trust me.”

Murmurs of agreement rolled around the table, and even Caspian seemed to accept the idea.

“A trick.” Childish voice cut through their whispering, mocking, derisive. “A spell. An ambush.”

It was the smallest of Pevensies, appearing without warning and speaking out of turn, yet her voice silenced even the minotaurs with its sheer belief.

“Lucy…” Ed tried to add a word edgeways, but Lucy growled at him - a rough, beastly sound that was alien on her petite frame, silencing the little King.

"You play it as if a game." her voice was deeper now, heavy and bereft of any doubt. "Like you’re scoring points, looking for a clever stunt or a piece of magic to solve the problem. Aslan is the one who defeated the Witch last time, Peter, not you, not magic. And Aslan is a Lion. He will come when the blood is spilled!"

Shivers ran down my spine, her intensity and faith burning like a flame. The “off” feeling I got from the girl was putting it mildly, and I could not help but wonder what this war and being with a creature such as Aslan would do to a child of not yet ten...

"Lucy, enough!” Peter was not impressed by his sister’s antics, and his curt tone returned us from the reverie induced by the little girl. “If Aslan comes then we’ll talk. Until then we do our best.”

***

Lucy’s speech has killed the mood any of us had for the argument, and some eagerly and some reluctantly we worked on the plan that Edmund and I came up with. The final preparations and the fine-tuning of the details took us more than a week, but soon the weather was right and the time was handy and as ready as we could ever be we stood on the roof of the How, as I set down the final enchantments.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Edmund asked, perhaps a hundredth time, poking the cloud with his finger.

I swatted his hand away with my hoof. “Yes, I am sure. It is a very simple spell, so unless you do something stupid and start poking the very delicate cloud I am currently holding with magics entirely out of the domain of my entire species, and hold the little twerp on a leash, you will be able to stand on it safely.”

The midget heard that, and decided to focus the death glare she’s been giving Edmund all that time on me instead.

Ignoring Lucy pointedly, I licked my hoof and tested the air. The direction was right and the wind was slow and steady. Which was very good, because there was no way I could steer a cloud that big, unless my cutie-mark suddenly changed to a weatherpony’s, much less hold it together under hard winds.

“Everything’s set,” I reported to both Edmund and Caspian. “Ready when you are.”

“Final checks, everyone! We move in five!” the princeling called to our small strike team.
Caspian gave him a glare but did not argue. It was a reasonable command, after all, and it was Edmund’s plan in the first place.

***

With good breeze and the cover of night, we made it to the castle before the witching hour. The thin sickle of moon hung in the sky, and the only real source of light were the torches of the guards in the castle.

My horn buzzed, three short buzzes: a signal from the Mouse Guard that they entered the castle from beneath, ready to attack the gate room and open the gate to our forces. Now it was up to us to make sure that no one would notice our soldiers running towards the gates to raise the alarm, and that the sleeping soldiers would remain sleeping. If we did everything right, and fate was on our side, then no one would have to die or to kill tonight, and then the war would be finally over.

Edmund tapped my shoulder lightly, ordering me to stop our descent. We were as close as we could safely get, straight above the watchtower, so close I could almost see my reflection in the telmarine guard’s round helmet.

It was showtime. Adrenaline pumping through my veins with every beat of my heart, I checked my arsenal. Under my cloak, my coat and mane were dyed black, to dim the natural orange, and make me less visible. My hooves wrapped tightly with woolen cloth were itchy and sweaty, but at least they would make no sound against the stone.

Spells I have carefully prepared hung around my horn in an almost tangible haze, requiring but a token effort to release in precise and tried formulaic magic. There would be no fury of the elements or brute-force telekinetic blasts for me this night, only carefully controlled and measured spells - classic Equestrian magic, as taught in Celestia’s school.

I was as ready as I could be when I gave the princeling a final nod. Caspian and Susan repeated the gesture.

The operation was a “Go”.

Edmund dropped off the cloud without any reservation, absorbing the shock of impact in a soundless roll, his black clothes making him barely a shadow across the greyness of the wall. He lunged at the guard straight from the roll, pushing himself off the parapet to gain height.

Hands coiled around the guard’s throat in a figure-four, his weight dragged the surprised Telmarine down and a few seconds later the watchman was safely unconscious. An instant later, the distant thunks of ball-tipped arrows against Telmarine helmets meant that Susan dispatched the neighboring guardposts just as handily.

It was my turn next. Though lacking Edmund's grace, with the help of the rope I dropped on the stone of the wall softly, thick woolen cloth wrapped around my hooves swallowing any sound I could make. I blinked my horn three times, signaling to Peter and our forces that we’ve secured the first checkpoint, while Susan and Caspian dropped from the quickly dissipating cloud.

We stood there a second, making sure that our incursion avoided enemy notice. Seconds of silence dragged slowly until Edmund was first to let his breath escape. Caspian moved forward, crouching behind the stone wall, as we made our way to the tower to rendezvous with our spy.

We avoided at least two patrols until we reached the doors at the end of the corridor, guarded by two Telmarines. Though one of them may have been sleeping, the other one was on high alert.

Susan nocked another ball-tipped arrow. Edmund reached for his dagger, but I intercepted his hand with my hoof. This one I could take easier and safer.

He nodded, understanding what I meant with no need for words.

I aimed my horn at the guardians and a soft green glow of magic lighted my face.

Somnos: with a tiny effort of my will and a thought-key I released one of the spells I prepared for this mission. A hair-thin web of greenish light unfolded through the corridor, enveloping the men and both of them сollapsed, instantly asleep.

“They’ll sleep for a few hours.” I whispered to Pevensies less accustomed to my magic “Go.”

We slipped silently into the room, closing the door behind us, only to find it entirely empty, save for the cluttering of books, maps and astronomical instruments with our contact nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” Edmund whispered. “I thought we were supposed to rendezvous with some professor or something?”

“It’s Doctor,” I corrected him. “Doctor Cornelius. He’s Caspian’s mentor and our spy against Miraz. He was supposed to be here to give us any last-minute corrections that may have occurred...”

“And he was taken,” Caspian added, showing broken glasses and a shred of someone’s clothes. “Miraz must have found him out, and put him in a dungeon. We must save him.”

“We don’t have the time!” Susan hissed. “We have a job to do.”

“He saved my life!” Caspian shot me a pleading look “If it weren’t for him, none of you would even be here. Neither would I.”

The two Pevensies hesitated, Caspian’s argument made even Edmund give it a thought.

“I can come with…” I tried to suggest, but Ed cut me off, taking command.

“No. You’re the one with the sleeping magics, we need you in the barracks. The Prince and I will go get the Doctor”.

Susan gave him a short nod, yielding to her younger brother’s command with no doubts, and I had no choice but to follow suit. With an exchange of quiet “good luck”s the boys slipped out of the side door, leaving it to us to make our way across the courtyard.

***

We almost made it there too, but the best-laid plans of mice and men went awry once again.

“What the…” Susan grabbed me by the shoulder, before we could disappear into the next hiding place, and pointed towards the far tower. In the distance, I could barely see the boys’ dark figures disappearing into the door. One of them stayed behind - Edmund, judging by his shorter stature.

He beckoned us desperately, before following Caspian.

“We have to get there!” Susan whispered.

We got.

Almost breaking our cover, spending precious minutes and not just a few spells, we managed to follow the boys up the tower into the master bedroom upstairs.

Caspian held a man at swordpoint, and through familial similarity I recognized Miraz - the usurper of Telmarine throne and Caspian’s uncle. Edmund stood by the door, a heavy dagger held in a throwing grip, aimed at the woman in the bed, who, in her turn had aimed a crossbow at Caspian.

I facehoofed, my horn alight with magic I did not know whom I was going release on, just as Susan drew and nocked by my side, aiming vaguely in some direction.

Miraz laughed, unthreatened by our display.

“Is that who you’ve chosen to consort with, my nephew? Monsters and children?”

“That was enough to get my sword to your throat, Uncle” Caspian noted, and his weapon cut a nick across his uncle’s neck. “Now answer my question!”

“To answer your question, nephew mine, yes. I did. Because he was weak.” Flicking away the sword like one would swat away an annoying fly, Miraz stepped forward, forcing Caspian back with the sheer intensity of his gaze. “Like you are. He begged me as he drew his last breath, asking to spare you...”

At those words, Caspian stopped his retreat. Something tightened within him, and I could see his knuckles turn white on the grip of his saber.

This is the moment I would have the nightmares of. Not the battles that followed, not the horror that awaited me but the same day, but of the moment when I betrayed my friend.

His saber flashed in the dull light of the torches, as it sped towards Miraz’s neck. It was a death blow. An execution. Caspian’s revenge.

And I stopped it. As easily as I would stop an unruly child, grabbing his arm in my magic and in my panic, tossing him clear across the room.

Everything fell apart in an instant - Miraz shouted the alarm, and pulled a hidden lever, disappearing behind a fake wall. His wife and Susan released their arrows at the same time, Ed’s scream of pain and Caspian’s moan of despair twinned with the alarm ringing clear across the castle.

Weeks of planning destroyed in a second.

“What have you done!” Caspian leaped to his legs, wobbling unsteadily with the effort. “You let him escape!”

“You’d kill him if I didn’t!” I snapped at him, still not truly able to believe that he’d actually do that.

A long, screeching sound broke our argument, and through the large stained-glass window of Miraz’s room we could see the gates being raised, and all blood rushed away from my face. Somewhere far, covered from our sight by the darkness, Peter would be watching and right now he would command his forces to advance.

Except instead of the sleeping and disoriented soldiers, what he would get was Telmarines already waking up to the alarm raised by Miraz. It would be a bloodbath.

“We should go” I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse.

Caspian instead had already ran back across the room, pushing me out of the way and started fumbling around the fake wall, trying to find the button or the secret lever to follow Miraz. I hesitated, unsure what to do.

Edmund had us covered.

A short, vicious kick сut Caspian across the shins, and before the surprised Prince fell on the ground, Edmund's hand grabbed him by the hair, punching him brutally into the wall. Something cracked, and I could only hope it were the stones, not the Prince's face.

Caspian dropped limply to the floor.

"Can you carry him?" Edmund asked me.

Startled, I could only nod, grabbing Caspian in my magic.

“We need to get to the gates.” Edmund broke off the shaft of the bolt sticking out of his shoulder and winced in pain, his face pale. "Now”

We got.

***

Corridors and enfilades of the castle blurred together in our mad dash towards the gates, broken into fragments of short scuttles with the guards roused by Miraz’s alarm.

Onyx - the air around the guard glowed subtly with the green of my magic. As the Telmarine struggled to inhale the suddenly thickened air, Susan landed a quick strike to the throat and an elbow to the base of his neck to turn him into a crumpled heap.

A door opened, and a semi-naked man ran out, a sword in his hand, trying to cut us off. Edmund, still holding his wounded shoulder, jumped without breaking his run, and his knee broke the man’s jaw. A roll, a hiss of pain, and we moved on.

Ice Capades - a long stretch of corridor covered in thin ice, causing both guards to lose balance and fall. Unlike the surprised Telmarines, I was ready for this, so skating up to one of them effortlessly, I gave him a good buck to the helmet to knock him unconscious and Susan’s blunted arrow took care of the second.

Gravitas - up and down switched places, and the bunch of guards around the next turn flew up, bashing against the ceiling, only to fall back down on the hard floor. We did not even slow down, moving past them. Without the need for words, each of us felt the precious seconds ticking away.

My arsenal was starting to run dry, and I was wheezing with effort. Black drops of sweat fell off my side, washing away the dye and soot and revealing back the orange of my coat - a perfect target for any stray bolt or arrow. Still, we were finally almost at the gates, the towers of the gatehouse one dash across the courtyard from us.

I turned as we ran, sliding on the polished stones of the road and ripped off my saddlebags, throwing them into the crowd with my magic. An explosion of smoke covered the incoming crossbowmen, gathering on the parapets of the castle's donjon.

It was asphodel and poppy-essence bound with my magic and meant to keep them asleep for hours - but that was if we got them in the closed quarters, already asleep. Here, under even the gentle breeze, it may have dropped a few and made others slightly dizzy - and it won us a few precious seconds as they drew scarves and handkerchiefs over their faces.

Before they could take aim and shoot at me, I dove into the cover of the gatehouse, clinging to its walls and joined the rest of our forces. Gates were wide open and the drawbridge lowered - as they should’ve been, thanks to Reepicheep and his sons - and through the arch of the gateway we could see and hear our forces rushing to take the castle.

“Caspian, my boy!” someone gasped, grabbing the Prince from my magic, “what happened?”

It was a short, portly man who could’ve been easily mistaken for an especially old dwarf - I recognized him immediately even though I saw him for the first time, by all the descriptions of him I got both from Caspian and our spies. It was Doctor Cornelius, mentor to the currently-unconscious Prince and our former source in the enemy camp.

“He’s fine, Doctor,” I replied, cutting him off. “We ran into a bit of trouble and we have to go. Now!” the latter was addressed not so much to the Doctor as to the Reepicheep and his mice.

And I was too late - even as I spoke, centaurs were already riding up the drawbridge and entering the castle - which meant that others were not far behind.

"Back! Retreat!" I shouted, covering the gateway in front of them with a turquoise shield. It would hardly stop a galloping centaur, but it gave them ample warning.

"What is the meaning of this, Red Witch?"

It was Glenstorm, the leader of Centaurs, the first of them to vow his fealty to our cause.

"Failure and ambush, Glenstorm," I shouted back. “We have to call it off!”

Our forces hesitated, unsure whether to push forward or retreat, rear ranks pushing against our those already inside, forcing them out of the cover of the gatehouse and into the rapidly approaching telmarine forces.

Somebody outside shouted commands in a throaty Telmarine accent, and the first unsteady volley of bolts was let loose into our forces. In the narrow bottleneck of the gates, creatures and people alike cried out in pain, despite the shields and armor.

Our forces shot back, blunted arrows and bullets from slings - hardly an equal answer to rapidly reloading Telmarine crossbows. A few enemies fell, but more were coming, half-armored and armed with whatever was at hand, and soon the first clang of steel-on-steel rang across the courtyard.

“We have to go!” I screamed, trying to shout over the battle starting around us “Sound the retreat!”.

Peter appeared by my side, fully clad in armor, Rhindon unsheathed shining in his hand.

“The gates are open, our army inside. We can take them!”

“Peter, they will die. People. Telmarines. Centaurs. Our soldiers. There will be dead come the morning if we press on. Please.”

He averted his eyes and nodded slowly, raising his horn to his lips. Three sharp, shrill sounds - an orderly retreat.

“Thank you”.

Minotaurs pushed the enemy back, their heavy iron maces crushing Telmarine limbs and bending breastplates, while the dwarves released the screaming mandrake-roots and ignited the flash powder, bathing the battlefield in deafening sounds and blinding flashes, discombobulating and dazing our opponents. Their effort won us a clean disengagement, and under the ever-increasing salvo of arrows and bolts, we retreated back.

I stretched my magic as much as I could, adding my shielding spell to the shields and armor of our forces, but even as I did, I could see in the corner of my eyes Telmarine bolts reaching their targets. Blood traced the field where soldiers of the Old Narnia crossed the plain before the castle walls to reach canopy of the surrounding forest.

But our cover was thin, and the telmarine soldiers were already pooling out of the castle, resolved to press their advantage and hunt our scattered forces. My mind raced to think of something, anything to save us - I had prepared my spells for a silent infiltration, and I had nothing ready towards the force and scale to break apart the chaos of the battle.

“Cover me!” I shouted, pressing my body into the tree trunk, and once again cursing the orange of my coat colour. “I need thirty seconds."

Peter stepped forward without hesitation, leaning into his shield with his shoulder and digging in his heels, immovable as a mountain. Crossbow bolts plinked against his shield and armor.

I closed my eyes and breathed. Slowly, concentrating on every inhale and exhale, until the rhythm of my breath was slow and even. Din of the battle and screams of the wounded faded away as I spread my feelings beneath into the earth, gathering my magic in a shining light at the tip of my horn.

I could feel the earth now, becoming one with it, like earth ponies do every day. It was not Equestrian soil, but earth is earth regardless of the world - firm, immovable, calm.

Sparks flew off my horn as the magic gathered started to overflow my ability to contain it. I grit my teeth and kept pulling it in, ignoring the increasing burning sensation of magic struggling to get free. Finally, with a cry of effort and stomp of my hoof, I released all the energy into the ground and shattered its calmness into pieces.

Ripples rolled across the field and the land convulsed and twisted itself inside out with a deafening rumble, turning the field into a cratered spider's web of cracks and crevices. Debris flew everywhere and dust so thick you had to push through it covered our forces.

“Spread out!” Edmund shouted over the rumble of the breaking earth, “Spread out and retreat! Back to the How! Go, go go!”

We got.

Chapter V - What Lucy Saw

In the darkness of the How, barely lit by the dim torches, I could finally comprehend the size of the catastrophe that the night raid had been.

As far as I could see no one got killed, but that, even though probably the greatest luck anyone could dare ask for, was where the good news ended. At least half of our forces were hurt, nursing either arrow- or sword slashes, and even with Lucy’s magic cordial and all of our meagre medical supplies we would be lucky if we could get a third of them back into our ranks any time soon.

For others… even when physically they were whole, their morale had clearly suffered a severe blow. We had had our failures before, of course, but those were organised retreats or early cancellations, or losses in minor skirmishes at most, but nothing on this scale. Wherever I could look, the ears were drooped, the eyes cast downward, and even the voices of those who tried to sound brave rang hollow and forced.

The heavy air of defeat, even more suffocating than the smoke of fires, hung around the How.

***

As soon as the doors of the war room hid us from the sight and hearing of our troops I pounced to confront Caspian.

“What the hay was that? Why did you…”

“Why did I what?” Caspian cut me off, even angrier than I, “Why did I almost end this stupid war? Why was I holding at a sword a man who tried to hunt me down like an animal? Why did I almost murder my uncle?”

“Yes, all of it, Caspian! You promised! You swore to me back when we started that if I help you, nopony was going to die, not even your uncle! Why did you try to...” the word “murder” he used so casually but a second ago refused to leave my muzzle.

“Because he killed my father!” Caspian exploded “He murdered my family in their beds for the throne!”

I opened my mouth and found I had nothing to say.

“Caspian, I… am sorry, but, you shouldn’t… you can’t. Not like him...” I mumbled, struggling to find anything to say but the useless banalities.

“Don’t.” He pushed me away when I tried to nuzzle him for comfort. “Don’t talk to me. You… traitor!”

I would’ve ran after him, but Doctor stood in my way.

“Let him cool off miss Shimmer. There’s no point to talking to him as he is.”

***

I spent some time wandering among our wounded. I am no earth-pony, nor was I a doctor, so for all my magic I was not half as useful as our medics - to say nothing of Lucy. Still, my pain-numbing spells and sleeping charms could provide relief to the wounded, and save us some of our scant medicine supplies.

Soon, my usefulness exhausted, I retreated to the war room, hoping for some time to wallow in some self-pity and misery of our utter failure without anyone taking note of it further breaking our already struggling morale.

Edmund was - once again - ahead of me on this one, already sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes glazed with thought and his face sullen.

He twirled his dagger in his hand, on occasion stabbing it into the table between his fingers in a strange pattern, a staccato of steel against wood counterpointing the heavy silence of the war room.

“It’s not your fault,” I said, trying to lift Ed’s spirits up. “It’s...” Caspian’s, “...we just got unlucky”.

He chuckled unhappily. “Susan said the same thing. So did Peter”. The knife moved faster between his fingers, missing them by a hair's breadth. “They never blame me, you know. Even when it’s my fault. The privilege of a younger brother.”

I stayed silent. I never had siblings, so I couldn’t really relate to that.

“But they are counting on me. I’m the smart one, you know? Peter is the brave and charismatic, Susan is the kind and graceful, and I am the smart one.” His tone turned bitter, mocking. “Edmund, what are the answers for the quiz? Ed, can you figure out ancient precedents and laws for us, please? Ed, can you come up with the plan to win the war? Yes, yes I can. Or I can try. And try. And try again, and every failure… every single life and limb lost - it’s on me, not on them. It’s Peter who gets the spotlight… and all I ever get are regrets.”

“That hardly sounds fair.”

The knife thunked hard against the table, the blade embedded deeply into the wood between Ed’s fingers.

“That’s no more than I deserve.”

***

We sat there for a long time, silence only broken by Edmund's dagger against wood. There was no need for words, our quiet camaraderie in our common misery making it easier to bear.

The fire was starting to go out, and morn was soon to be upon us when we were troubled again. It were Edmund's siblings, dragged in insistently by Lucy. Both were in a state of disarray, clearly plucked from whatever they were doing when she snatched them - Peter trying to juggle his sword, shield and armor at the same time, Susan's hair still wet.

“By Jove, Lu, will you wait a second?” Peter wheezed, trying to untangle himself into a chain shirt he was donning.

"Edmund, tell them!" Lucy kept pulling her older sibling into the room with persistence and power of a tiny train engine, "Tell her that something's wrong! I can feel it down below."

"I don't know what's gotten into her." Susan said, "I think she had a night terror or something".

Ed looked up sharply, twisting his dagger out of the maimed table.

"The last time I didn't believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid." He said slowly. "We should go have a look."

The five of us descended the stairs to the hall below the barracks and the forges and the dining hall, to the room in the very roots of the How. The caves under the How were deep and dark, and the only room there was the one where the Stone lie. They said that Aslan died here once, sacrificed and resurrected, and in doing so saved Narnia. It made no sense to me, yet there was some sort of deep magic to this room and no one, save me or Caspian dared enter here.

With every step of the way, our urgency grew, Pevensies turning tense, and even I started to feel something horribly wrong brewing underneath until we were running towards our destination at full gallop.

It was there, at the end of the long, twisted hall, roughly hewn in the stone we have found the heavy doors barred and guarded. A figure, covered by the loose dark robe, crossed our path, stepping from the shadow of an alcove.

“We need to get through!”, I tried to get past it, without slowing down, when it exploded in a flash of teeth and claws, barely an inch from my face, as I only just managed to dodge the sudden attack.

Beneath the cloak a horrid figure, a half-human half-wolf abomination stood, snarling and baring his teeth.

“What are you?!” even among the weirdest half-human half-equine hybrids and sapient predators of this insane world, I would’ve noticed this rabid... thing.

“What am I, little pony?” he asked, his deformed, heavy jaw struggling with speech, “I am hunger. I am thirst”. A mad glint of his eyes scaring me and silencing even Pevensies, forced all of us to step back “I can drink a river of blood and not burst, I can…”

It was almost too late when I recognised that he was not just insane, his eyes twitching and staring past me - he was looking behind us as if expecting someone to appear. I spun around, only now spotting the dwarf clad in black and rust, swinging his short sword at Edmund’s back.

“Look out!”. Surprised, I only began to summon the magic to push him back, but I need not have worried.

Lucy stepped from the shadows, and her little toy dagger slipped into the dwarf’s armpit, finding a gap in his crude chainmail. He squealed in pain and surprise - a thin, grating sound.

Cold and almost medical, Lucy twisted the knife, pushing him to the ground and ripped it from the wound in a small fountain of blood. A savage backhand with a hilt of the dagger knocked dwarf out, and Lucy moved back, disappearing behind a column once again.

I shuddered. Of all the Pevensies the midget scared me the most.

Peter was less refined. With a cry of effort he smashed his shield into the wer-creature, pushing it clean through the doors of the Aslan’s Tomb, and over the splinters of the broken gate we rushed in.

In the twilight of the torch-lit cave, on the pedestal of the cracked Stone there was an arch of blue ice. And from within this gate, the White Witch looked at me, smiling.

Words fail to describe her. She was beautiful beyond measurement and horrifying beyond enduring. She was somehow wrong, unnatural - “inhuman” was the word that sprang to my mind, even though I was not a human myself.

And by Celestia she was powerful. Even bound within the portal as she was, her magic leaked through in an eerie blue light, creeping along the walls in the frosty patterns, holding my heart in the icy grip of fear. All it took was for her sight to touch me, and all the breath left my body as if I’d been bucked to the chest.

There, standing in the simple chalk circle in the epicentre of this nightmare, surrounded by abominations, was my friend.

“He is trying to summon her!” Lucy squealed, “He’s going to release the White Witch!”

“Stop him!” Peter commanded, jumping towards Caspian.

A spell hit him in the chest - a glob of blackest magic I've ever seen, sizzling and foaming on his chainmail.

The guardians of the Witch stood in our way. The wer-creature, his head twisted at an impossible angle, was already standing up, joints and vertebrae snapping back together with disgusting wet cracks and pops. A red-feathered arrow pinned him back down, and then another, as Susan shot without error stepping forward with every arrow she let loose.

The other one, the one who cast the first spell I've seen in this world aside from my own, was a crone - a human once, perhaps, clad in rags and tatters and so twisted by age and warped by dark magics she could barely be recognised as such. She screeched something and her deformed claw ripped into the air, summoning another spell.

Peter took it on his shield and charged the horrid hag with a battle cry.

Caspian began to to speak.

“Aslan abandoned His people,” Caspian said to the Witch, calm and clear. “The High King invited disaster on us.” A knife crossed his hand and his blood dripped on the floor. “The Red Witch has betrayed me. My allies are not enough. Will you come to my aid?”

“I will help you, my Prince”. Cold, harsh whispers rose from every shadow in the room, easily covering the noise of the battle. “For but a drop of your blood”.

Arrow after arrow kept piercing the Wer-Wolf, but the deformed creature refused to stay down, tainted flesh reknitting with tainted flesh, and warped bones rejoining with warped bones as quickly as Susan’s arrows would break them apart. It jumped towards Edward, teeth and claws bared in a rabid attack, and the young king grabbed, pivoted and turned, throwing the creature with the power of its own pounce. Before it could stand up, Edward raised his sword to pin the creature to the floor.

“Caspian, don’t!” Susan begged in between the shots she continued to rain on the creature.

Caspian ignored her… or perhaps he could not hear. He spoke again, straining his voice to be heard above our fighting “My father’s blood cries for vengeance. My throne is stolen by the usurper. My land is taken from me. Will you give me my justice?”

“Revenge shall be yours my Prince.” the Witch pushed through the ice wall, and her hand inched towards Caspian, moving slower the molasses. “For but a drop of your blood.”

“Caspian!” my spells evaporated as soon as they reached the chalk line on the floor. There was no barrier to crush, no defence I could overcome. It was the greatest law of the world, something that came from the beginning of the time itself and not even Celestia would have been able to intervene until the ritual was over.

“Strategy and steel have failed. Magic will not avail me. Aslan will not come. Will you give me the power I need?!” Caspian was shouting now, as Peter pushed the Hag back, swatting her black spellcraft aside with Rhindon.

“All the power of Night and Winter, every knowledge of Narnia and Charn, from the dawn of the time I will give you, my Prince.” her voice was like a silken snake, slithering into my ears and coiling inside my brain, sapping my strength and my magic. “For but a drop of your blood.”

Her hand opened up, and Caspian raised his bloodied palm to meet it.

“NO!”

Peter screamed his defiance. His sword flashed twice, criss-crossing the Hag, the long cuts of the sword erupting in fountains of the foul black blood, and he jumped towards Caspian, trying desperately to shatter the horrible handshake with Rhindon. But even as he jumped, in that frozen instant that seemed to last forever, we all could see that it was already too late.

...the Red touched the White and Blood of Adam flowed to nourish the Last Daughter of Charn. Her eyes shone with unearthly, malicious light, as Caspian’s hand grasped hers. I could see the muscles bulge on his back as he pulled the Witch out of her ice prison. Her hand extended and thinned as he pulled, turning into a metal staff with an ice diamond as its top.

With a sharp, crackling laughter that rolled around the cave, the ice exploded into million shards and the fabled sword merely glanced off the Staff of the White Witch grasped firmly in Caspian’s hand.

The Prince stood there for a second, panting heavily, and the ice crept up his hand from the staff, turning his eyes and hair snow white.

“I shall go have words with my uncle now.” he said calmly. A mere twirl of his staff deflected another Peter’s blows without him even looking. “Don’t try to stop me Sunset, Your Majesties. You cannot”.

Peter raised his shield and started to circle Caspian slowly. I could hear Susan nocking another arrow and drawing her bow. I saw Edmund crouched behind a rock reaching for his dagger - Pevensies were getting ready to fight, but I refused to attack my friend. Instead, I dug my hooves in the arch of the exit, looking in his now-white eyes.

“Caspian, it isn’t you. Stop now, please.” I begged.

“Or what?” he asked bitterly, walking slowly towards me. “Or you’ll throw me away again, like a little child? Attack me from behind? You’ll find it harder this time around.”

Fear boiling inside me like a poisonous fume, I summoned a shielding spell to bar the way and I could only repeat.

“Caspian, please. I’m your friend, I don’t want to hurt you… I never did.”

He merely looked at my spell, cocking his head to the side, as if seeing it for the first time.

“You know, I always was curious about your magic. It is such a wondrous thing, and you use it so easily. But I can see it now, I can recognise the patterns. It is so… simple.” his tone was casual, almost disappointed.

His fingers crooked into an impossible angled gesture and he snarled:

“isiк!”.

A blinding flash dazed me and the spell shattered my shield like a foam bubble throwing me to the side. There were sounds of battle and flashes of pale white light as the three Pevensies attacked him at once with blades and arrows, and an instant later there was nothing but silence.

He stopped by my side for a second, before leaving. His hand, once warm, was now so deadly cold as he checked me for wounds.

“For what it’s worth”, his eyes turned brown again, his face softened and I could almost see the Prince who was my friend, ”I never wanted to hurt you either.”

I tried to reach him with my hoof, to hold him back... And just like that, his face snapped back to the icy mask of cold fury, and in a few steps he was gone.

We struggled to our feet.

“Well, now we definitely need Aslan.” Peter said dryly, sheathing Rhindon.

“We always needed Him, Peter”, the little brat said with grave seriousness, “You just didn’t see it.”

Author's Notes:

And finally here I got to go entirely off the movie (and the book) script and fix everything that has ever annoyed me about Chronicles of Narnia.
It was a therapeutic exercise, honestly.

Also - ten points for recognizing each reference or phrase stolen from books other then CoN. There should be at least dozen scattered around the fic.

Chapter VI - How All Were Very Busy

No words were uttered, as we bound the prisoners - the hag, the dwarf, and the wer-wolf still clawing at the blade that pinned him to the floor, and nothing was said, as we struggled to think of what to do.

"Aslan will come now." Lucy seemed almost too calm for the near-hysterics she was before. She was sitting on a Stone, making no move to help us in our work. "Red Sun will rise. Blood will be spilled, and the lion will come to its smell. And when Aslan shakes his mane, Narnia'll see spring again."

She jumped off her seat in a single languid motion, as if stretching after just waking up. Her eyes shone with hungry anticipation.

"I have to go greet Him."

“So be it then.” Peter pulled himself together, his eyes settling on his sister, and he nodded to her, accepting the utter truth of her words. “We'll have to buy you time.”

His tone grew curt and short as he took charge again, giving everyone their commands. ”Susan, take Lucy. Go find Aslan.”

Susan saluted her brother and they disappeared towards our small stables.

“Edmund, marshal our forces. We’ll need everyone capable of holding a sword, and we will need them as soon as possible.” Peter hesitated, drumming over the lion’s head on the pommel of his sword with his fingers. “If I don’t come back you’re…”

“Got it”. Edmund interrupted his brother’s train of thought. “They’ll be ready for their High King”.

A small, grateful smile was all Peter had to spare.

“Sunset, you’re with me. We need to win Lucy the time to find Aslan. And we have to stop the White Witch.”

There was little time to dawdle if we were to catch up with Caspian before he did something horrid with his new power. Frantically I grabbed what I could from my lab and my quarters - coffee to wake me from another sleepless night, some rainbow-essence and fern-flower potions to replenish my magic exhausted in the skirmishes of the day, their horrid acidic taste bracing more than even the caffeine, and then I was as ready for the heavy task ahead as much as I could be.

I found Peter prepared as well, in full plate armor, that on him seemed as light as a shirt, hardly weighing the King down.

"With all due respect, Sire, I must again beg your indulgence to come with you. It would be only proper." Reepicheep tried to argue, and clearly not for the first time.

“No, Reepicheep, I need you to protect my brother,” Peter said, his tone not accepting of any argument. “Should we not return, Narnia must have a King”. His voice softened a little as he crouched to the mouse’s height “ You and your boys are the only ones I can truly trust with this, Sir Knight.“

“As you wish, Sire”, Reepicheep sighed and bowed. If the little warrior ever had a weakness it’d be his inflated ego. The flattery would get him every time. “We shall guard him with our very lives”

“Good.” Peter stood up, adjusting the sword on his belt “Sunset, you’re ready?”

Instead of answering, I simply opened the doors of the How. A sharp, cold wind hit me in the face, throwing icy dust into my face, and in front of my eyes, there was winter.

When we returned from our failed raid this very night it was barely mid-summer. Yet now still-green leaves and grass of the forest were quickly getting covered by a gentle winter flurry.

Caspian’s trail was still fresh - clean footprints on the snow, the earth, and grass frozen solid marking every step.

Peter followed me outside catching a snowflake on his armored glove and studied it for a moment.

"Winter is coming." he said, crushing it in his fist, "Ice and hunger to grip the land for hundreds of years."

Something howled far away, a blood-chilling, inequine cry split the morning air and another one answered it - a chorus that echoed the cries of gathering the winter storms, and I tried not to think of the creatures that reveled so in White Witch's return.

We gave the How one last glance and hurried along the trail of footprints in the snow.

I prepared my spells and readied myself for the combat as we went - a somber and heavy task that invited no chatter, while Peter did much the same. The trail was clear and easy to follow in the unsteady light of rising morning twilight, and we had no need for words as we walked.

And then darkness fell upon me from the middle of the path - something appeared suddenly in my way, a heavy shadow in the light of the dawn. A soldier, raising the sword right above me, creeping up unnoticed while I was concentrating on what was to be and paid no attention to what was.

My battle instincts crying in alarm I jumped away, and my spells unfolded in every direction in the wave of power almost by themselves, ready to attack and protect at an instant’s notice.

A second stretched, and nothing happened. And then another, and it was only then that I recognized that the soldier was not moving, motionless like a statue, and like a statue, he was made not of flesh and blood, but of stone.

I put away my spells, folding my power back again for later and examined the Telmarine. Nothing I knew of could produce such an effect, save perhaps basilisk’s gaze, but there were no basilisks in Beruna wood - of that I was pretty sure.

“What happened to him?” I asked, not expecting Peter to know the answer - the High King knew little of magic.

“That is the power of the White Witch over those who would belong to her.” he surprised me with an answer.

That made scant sense to me. Magic I knew had laws and formulae and it would not depend on something as fickle and subjective.

“The White Witch was the first traitor of Narnia, rebelling against Aslan", Peter continued "so she holds the right to the lives of all the traitors of this world. And Caspian is the rightful ruler of Telmar."

"So the Telmarines..."

"Yes. Either they are bound to him through their fealty to the crown of Telmar, or they fall to him by the right of First Traitor. Willing or not, they will fight us, and they will try to stop Lucy from reaching Aslan. We must hurry."

We trotted faster, and then the forest became thinner and thinner and soon the petrified figures of Telmarines appeared more often than the trees. And then we reached the edge of it, where down the hill we could see who Caspian was going towards.

In the bend of Beruna-river, on a featureless white bank, where the morning sun colored snow blood-red and the air was so crisp with winter chill that it almost burned my lungs, they knelt.

Between the remains of the war machines, patches of ice and scores of petrified warriors marking where the last futile attempts at resistance were crushed by White Witch’s power, the Telmarine army - soldiers and officers alike stood on their knees. None dared to avert their eyes from what was going on - or maybe they could not. The entitlements White Witch and the Prince of Telmar had a hold over them that could not - would not - be overcome, no matter how brave or willful one was.

The sole exception was Miraz. He too knelt, but not of fear or of compulsion - he was pushed into the earth by the icy bonds, and though his head was bowed, I could see him twisting in his bindings, and there was no imagination needed to almost hear the curses he spat at his nephew.

Caspian stood by him, and the staff in his hand melted and stretched, turning from a magician's rod into a sword. A giant, two-handed thing, with a wide white blade, almost as long as Caspian was tall. Even seeing it for the first time, I knew it was not a weapon of war: it was the tool of an executioner.

Miraz struggled against his ice bond one last time, in a desperate and futile effort to escape.

The sword rose in a balance above Caspian head, and I broke into a gallop to do something -- anything -- but I was too slow and too far away.

It fell - swift and deadly. No hesitation, no second thoughts, just cold-blooded murder. And now I was powerless to stop it.

A wave of nausea hit me like a tsunami, and I threw up. Again, and again, until there was nothing in me but dry bile, heaving and gasping for air, unable to erase from my mind the horrible blood-gushing stump where Miraz's head was.

"I am your king now." Caspian declared, his voice filling the air with ringing, crystalline power. "By birthright, by duel, and by conquest, I am now King of Telmar and Narnia. Through Blood and through Law all that beneath me shall serve."

Peter was made of sterner stuff than I, and so he kept walking towards Caspian unperturbed and unthreatened by Caspian's power or by his army.

“You’re not the ruler of Narnia yet,” Peter said simply, coming to a stop, and unsheathed Rhindon. “Not while I draw breath.”

Caspian turned to him and saluted back with his giant sword.

“That is easily remedied, oh King.”

They took their stances and circled each other slowly in the inch-deep snow, studying the moves of their opponent. I could see caution and resolve in Peter’s eyes, as he measured his new - and old, in another sense - opponent.

In Caspian’s eyes, I could see nothing.

The swords clashed once, twice, and then they retreated, shifting positions, looking for an angle of attack.To them, swordsmanship was not an application of brute force, but rather a science and an art, not unlike what magic was to me.

Again they clashed, this time in earnest, and now the difference between them was apparent.

Caspian had always been light on his feet and graceful, and the months of combat had made him lightning-quick with his swordplay, but the White Prince was something else entirely. He moved with inhuman speed and precision, twirling his giant sword as if it weighed nothing. No living thing can or should be able to move like this - all sharp angles and twisted limbs, perfected machine precision of a clockwork praying mantis.

And he had magic. His sword circled round his back, held in a single hand, and his free fist smashed into the Peter’s shield with a cry and a flash, and Peter had to step back under the strain of the magically enhanced attack.

Peter’s counter-attack got blocked and tangled in the giant cross-guard of the white sword. Rhindon pushed aside, Caspian hit the shield again as he shouted a spell even more powerful and vile, and Peter fell to his knee at the assault, struggling to keep his shield up.

He tried to stand back up, but the White Prince cried a third time, the words in a dark tongue best left forgotten, so horrid that the stones round us cracked and my ears bled, and smote the shield once again, cracking the dwarf-forged steel and making Peter’s hand drop limp.

The White Sword rose above his head and then dove towards King’s undefended neck.

I finally sprung my spell.

It was the best spell I could have mustered, a layer upon layer of dissolving, attacking and binding magics, charged as they battled and released without any warning. Even Celestia, were she caught unawares, would have felt its impact. He did not.

Even as the sword fell, Caspian released his hand from the grip, and intercepted the spell mid-air grabbing and breaking a single thread of its tapestry, and all the energy I gathered simply fell apart with no effect but a gentle breeze.

On reflection, that was incredibly unfair.

Author's Notes:

Two chapters remaining, which I think I'll publish over the weekend.
And guys, any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter VII - The Lion Roars

My unexpected attack, even though it failed to reach Caspian, has allowed Peter a second to recover from the sorcerous assault and counter. He rolled, dropping his shield, and lounged at Caspian. His sword weaved in an elaborate double-feint, twisting around the White Sword as if alive, and left a long nick along the Prince’s shoulder, drawing blood that instantly froze in a patch of white ice.

I tagged in, my spell burrowing into the ground and summoning roots and grass from underneath the frozen earth to bind the White Prince. They lasted less than a second, the roots turning to ice and to dust at his word, but it made him miss his step, and Peter lunged for the legs, quick and precise.

He blocked Peter’s low cut, and leaned in with his shoulder, the pommel of the White Sword smashing into Peter’s face. The High King’s lip broke, his head snapping back. Droplets of blood absorbed by the hilt of the hungry weapon as Caspian raised it again, but now I was upon him, and this time my spell found its mark, enveloping and binding him in green chains of my magic.

He shrugged, and the chains that touched him covered with frost and turned brittle. I grit my teeth with effort and pushed more magic into the spell in response, weaving layer upon layer of chains and bindings, fastening him to the earth and the rocks and the weights I conjured out of thin air.

“Peter dear, you know you cannot defeat me.” Caspian’s lips were moving, but the voice was not his. The soft, silky tone, the condescending familiarity that would be alien to the well-spoken Prince was that of the Witch. “Why do you not give up?”

His eyes narrowed, as he realized his own words. “That mangy cat is coming back, isn’t He?”

Peter spat out blood from the broken lip and grinned savagely. He raised Rhindon again.

“At the sound of His roar, sorrows will be no more. When he bares His teeth, winter meets its death,” he taunted his foe. “I still say it doesn’t really rhyme, but then, that’s not the point, is it?”

He jumped towards the White Prince, sword blazing in a downward arc.

Caspian twisted, and his sword, inerrantly finding a weak link in my binding, sliced the chain clean through, like a hot knife through butter. A savage kick sent Peter flying back, his breastplate bent and his legs tracing lines in the earth as he tried to keep standing.

“Telmarines!” the immovable soldiers heads whipped up, like puppets to the pull of puppeteer’s strings. “Find the girl! Find the girl and stop her!” They jerked up to their legs - all in step, all without the need of further command - toy soldiers empty of any will save that of their Prince and marched towards the woods.

A horn called towards them from the cover of the forest. And then another, and another. Beruna woods have come to the high hill - our army led by Edmund met the Telmarines at the edge of the forest, and while the little King lived, Lucy would have time to find her Lion.

Caspian did not react, his face still as cold and impassive as it was before.

“That won’t be enough.” he stated simply “My turn now.”

He descended upon us with speed and with magic, and instantly we were hopelessly outmatched, our previous score - no more than a fluke born of Caspian's surprise. Peter retreated now, faster and faster, and every time he tried to attack Rhindon would merely glance of Caspian's impenetrable defense, and his own armor would earn a dent or a gash - more often than not adding a wound or a bruise to High King.

Not that I was faring any better. For all my powers and all my magic - everything I’ve learned under Celestia’s tutelage, I could’ve just as well been a blank-flanked foal.

I lashed at him with the Scourge, and it only whipped back to me, reflected of his gesture, entangling me and cutting my skin, blood marring my orange coat like a mockery of my cutie-mark.

Even before I could finish the sleep spell I could feel my own eyelids starting to close, my magic returned to me by his glance.

I created a gravity field that would push him into the ground with a weight of a mountain, and he collapsed it into a mess of particles with a stomp of his foot.

The winds I’d summon to throw him off his feet split apart rather than touch the blade of the White Sword.

He had all the counters, held every key to each binding, knew every weakness in my spellwork and the best of my efforts, the sorcery enough to break beasts and stagger monsters barely slowed him down. If it were not for Peter standing stalwart between the White Prince and me, the White Sword would’ve long since severed my head from my body.

Desperate and out of ideas, I screamed in frustration and threw a flare of malformed energy at him, and for the first time, he grunted with effort as he caught it in the palm of his hand. No clever block, no counterspell, just raw power against the raw power.

My eyes widened in surprise as the realization hit me when I looked at his hand burned for the first time with the power of my magic. That was the key. The intricacy of his spellwork, the complexity of it, backed by all the knowledge of two worlds, I could not hope to match, but Caspian himself was not a unicorn - or whatever human equivalent would be - and even changed by the White Witch he could not channel as much magic as I could.

I reached within me into every reserve that I had and summoned all of my magic. Not the magic Celestia teaches in the school for Gifted Unicorns - I’d already expended all I’ve prepared towards the precise formulae and perfected schema of the academic wizardry of Equestria. Not the desert magic of Saddle Arabia I’ve been using before; the wind and sand wielded like a whip, elegant and piercing, lightning-quick and razor-sharp.

From the deepest pools of my mind, I summoned all the raw energy I had. All of my anger, all of my fear, all of the horror at the battle unfolding behind us in the woods, slamming it through my horn. I became magic. I became fire. Energy flowed through me like a torrent, twisting into walls and streams of fire, that in itself was like a living thing, coiling around the White Prince like a dragon, looking to melt and devour.

Caspian… The White Prince weaved and spun between the flames, deft and fluid, pirouettes and dodges, avoiding and deflecting flame and steel alike. His sword became like a whirlwind only materializing when it clashed with Rhindon or intercepted the flame of my magic. Still, for all his prowess, he was retreating, step by step, as we pushed him uphill towards the battle in the woods. More than once either blade or fire penetrated the spiderweb of defenses he has weaved around himself, leaving a gash or a burn on his snow-white skin.

But still he stayed one step ahead of us, escaping the final strike time and time again and we could not keep it up forever.

Time stretched, each minute like an hour, as we now battled in in the trees of the forest, making soldiers of both armies part around us and my endurance was coming to an end. My knees turned to jelly, and black dots swam in my vision. Exhaustion kept hitting me like an incoming tide with a myriad of little nauseating waves.

Peter was on his last leg as well - his left hand hung limp, his shield long since left behind, and the steel of his armor was stained with his blood. His breath was ragged and wheezing, even if he still held on to his sword with dead man's grip, as he rained his attacks on his foe.

The White Prince’s strength seemed inexhaustible. He was even taller now, his hands becoming slender and feminine, his features softer and ever more alien, and despite the burns and the long, ice-patched scars that we managed to score, he seemed ready and willing to go another twenty rounds.

“All over, but the heroic last stands”, was what Peter said then, an eternity ago. Seemed apt to this situation, and so I took few ragged breaths and tried to straighten up, grasping all I had left for one final spell.

And then He came and the lion’s roar shook the world.

I could feel His presence even before I turned and saw them. Behind us, on a small bridge across the Beruna, two girls stood beside a monster.

It was a lion, bigger than life itself. His golden coat shone with the light of the dawn, His emerald eyes pierced me even from across the battlefield with their sheer intensity, His frame full of heavy, world-rending power. Reality rippled under His heavy roar and the petrified Telmarines, awoke to His call, turning on their Prince-beholden comrades. The White Prince faltered for a second, his eyes widening in surprise, and my final spell crashed into his defences like a battering ram, crumpling the protective layers of his magic with a sickening crunch.

And in the exact same moment, Susan’s arrow found its mark, right above his Adam’s apple.

He stopped to touch it, looking at his red-stained hand as if unable to believe that he was killed. He made a step towards me. Then another. And then he fell, blood finally flowing freely from his wound. A puddle of red with disgusting strands of white within it flooded the ground that would not accept it.

With every drop of red and white he lost, the White Prince turned back into Caspian. His clothes, stained with grime and blood, were no longer pristine white, his eyes and hair returned to their natural brown so very slowly, and he smiled. He knew that he was dead already, and yet he smiled because he felt that even death, even the eternal nothing was better than what he almost became.

***

The untouched pizza had grown cold and silence hung over the table while Sunset took a breath before talking again.

“That was the third hard lesson I have learned, of all the life’s teachings that made my heart black and cold. Celestia had always said that showing mercy and kindness cannot be a mistake. I now knew that she was wrong.

Miraz was a murderer, a thief, and a tyrant. If only I’ve let Caspian kill him, then the Battle of Beruna would never have happened, the White Witch would not have been free, and my first friend, the noblest, kindest person in the whole of that cruel world would have lived.”

Sunset’s eyes burned with the dark fires and her hands clenched into fists.

“If I knew that then as I know it now, I would have murdered Miraz myself. I would have pulled him apart, limb by limb, tendon by tendon, bone by a bloody bone, kicking and screaming in front of his wife and child if need be. And I would not feel a single drop of remorse if it gave Caspian the peace of mind he tried to bargain from the White Witch.

“But I didn’t. So I did all I could do now - I stayed with him until the very end, holding his hand in my hooves, and when the last light left his eyes, I stood up and turned to Aslan. "

Chapter VIII - Aslan Makes A Door In The Air

Caspian was dead, and with his death, the battle started to wane.

I looked up from his body. Around me, our forces were winning. Around me, the long war was coming to an end. Around me, sapient beings were slaughtering each other in a thousand nightmare-inducing vignettes of violence, while I was too exhausted and numb to do anything.

I ignored them, and they seemed to avoid me, as I made my way to Lucy and her Lion, my hooves drowning in the blood-soaked mud. And with every step of the way, I could feel his presence overwhelming me. Even through the detachment of the shock, I was scared of Him. Lions are inherently terrifying, even more so than dragons, for in every equine there still lives the primal fear the hunted has for the hunter.

This Lion was even more scary. The sharp teeth, the rending claws, the thick muscles rolling under His coat, the deep, primal magic that radiated off Him in waves. He may have been sapient and benevolent, yet no matter what anyone would say, He was not a tame lion.
But I had a piece of mind to say and stubbornness enough to say it, no matter how scared I was.

When I walked past the kneeling Pevensies, he noticed me. His giant nostrils sniffed in the air, “You’re not one of mine.” He said. His voice was deep and reverberating, and it shook me to my bones. “You’re of Celestia’s foals. How is my cousin these days, little pony?”.

“Where the hay have you been all that time?”, I had no time for His pleasantries, “You’re supposed to be the King of these people and you were not here for a thousand years! There was a Nightmare-damned genocide and you did feathering nothing! What, were you too busy licking Your fluffy balls to care? Or to notice? Those guys”, I pointed my hoof at the Pevensies, staring at me in silent shock, “Keep telling how amazing and awesome You are. Prince Caspian believed in You! And you what, we're waiting for someone to come begging for help and just ate some popcorn while our soldiers’ blood colored Beruna red?”

He growled. If His voice was heavy, even a growl of his displeasure was almost a physical thing. You could feel its pressure with the whole of your body, louder than even the Royal Canterlot Voice. I dropped to my haunches and really wished I had stayed silent.

“‘T was a Deep Magic, from the Dawn of Time that bound me, little pony. Would you have me acting against Emperor’s own magic?

“Yeah, right, whatever”. I may have been scared half to death, but my sarcasm was alive and kicking, “If that were true, you’d be begging for their forgiveness, not taking their homage. Celestia is a real Princess. She’d rather die a thousand deaths than let anyone hurt any of her subjects. Caspian was a Prince. You - you’re just a big old meanie with delusions of grandeur, that’s what you are.”

“Hey! You can’t talk to Aslan like that.”

Well, who would it be to find their tongue but the little miss “Aslan’s fan club”.

“Lucy…” Peter started helplessly, but she looked daggers at him.

“Don’t tell me you’re on her side, Peter!”

“Come on, Lu...”

“Perhaps”, Lion’s deep voice stopped the argument in its tracks, “some apology is in order. I wish you all to know, that were it possible, I’d have come sooner to your aid.”

Lucy looked as if she was slapped in the face with a wet trout. Her expression was so full of the childish feeling of betrayal and confusion, that I thought she was about to cry.

“Yet now the balance of the world is upset,” Aslan said, looking at Peter. “The White Witch is gaining strength. Now it’s but a matter of time, til her sceptre, summons the next wielder and Jadis will walk the land again.”

“I’ll protect it” Peter stood up, putting his hand on his blade. “For the rest of my life if I have to”.

“My Son,” Aslan spoke softly “It is not your world, nor is it your burden to bear.”

“Is it not, Aslan?” Susan stood up next to her brother, looking at the lion in the eyes. “Did we not come when it called? Have we not fought for it enough? Did we not water it with our blood, and sweat and tears?”

“Peter will have it sorted, Sire.” Ed stood up, “if anyone can be doggedly stubborn to protect it till Narnia itself is unmade, it would be him.”

“Please Aslan?” even Lucy chimed in with her family “We’re your children, but we’re not kids! We can make our own decisions.”

“So be it, then,” Aslan said, nodding, and something changed as He so spake, a shade falling upon Peter’s face. He was as young and bold as he’s ever been, but a white line now adorned his before brown hair, and a sombre silence seemed to hang around him like a cloak.

“But you will need help.”

“TRAITORS!” his voice boomed, reaching to the farthest ends of the battlefield. “Sons of Telmar, traitors to the crown. By the law from the dawn of time, those who betray their word belong to the White Witch. Your lives are no longer your own.”

Fear rippled across the ranks of the Telmarines, the memory of petrification, the dead eyes of the White Prince still fresh in their minds.

“Yet by the will of the Emperor From Beyond The Sea, by the Sacrifice on the Stone, by the Laws of Magic that come from before the Time began, I can give you another duty. Step forth, sons of Telmar, traitors of the crown, and you shall be bound to sleep while Narnia still stands, only to be roused for its protection. Death shall give you pass, and the world of the living will be forbidden to you while Narnia stands, and only after the end of the Time shall you be released from your post to enter the world that comes after.”

Anger, fear and protests were the reactions of the Telmarines, yet the truth of Aslan's words could not be denied. One way or the other they were cursed, and Aslan's deal was only half as bad as being in White Witch's thrall.

One by one they came towards Peter, and the same deathly shroud spread along the ground, turning the beach into a shadowland, veiled from the land of the living.

Peter stepped on the border, and wordlessly he passed Rhindon to his sister, taking care not to touch Susan’s hand. Choking with tears she could only nod as she accepted.

“You are the High Queen now,” Aslan said. “A great honour. And a greater duty still.”

“She won’t be alone.” Edmund and Lucy stood by Susan's side, King and Queen of Narnia, brother and sister to High Queen.

“I’ll go with Peter.” somebody said, and it’s only by the looks others gave me I recognised that it was me. “It’s my fault. The whole thing…. It’s on me. I should stay”.

“No, little ones” The lion shook his mane, and this time there was no argument to be had. “Your destinies are tied to the other worlds, and those ties are not mine to break. You shall leave, and when the time comes, some of you may yet come back to this land. But now it is time for you to go home.”

He pushed Lucy gently with His giant head. “Go. Say your goodbyes now”.

So we did. To Reepicheep and his boys, to Glenstorm the centaur, Trufflehunter the badger and to Doctor now grieving over Caspian’s body, to my soldiers and to other comrades-in-arms who made it through the fight… as every goodbye is, it was bitter, despite the sweet promise of going home.

I wanted to stay, if for a little while. To bury my friend and to share the grief with the comrades, to taste the fruit of our bitter and unexpected victory, to see Narnia rise again in a new Golden age with its High Queen in charge… but I knew better than that. Every sun must eventually set, and even if it were morning, the sun of Narnia was setting for me, the dawn as red as the dusk in the desert.

“Take the horn”, Susan offered, as Edmund and Lucy said their final goodbyes to their Narnian friends “You’ve helped Narnia in its hour of need, and as its Queen, I swear if you need help, we shall come to repay our debt. No matter the world, no matter how far, as long as Narnia itself stands, we shall come to your aid.”

“I too so swear”, Peter echoed, his usually booming voice now more like a hollow echo of itself. “You are a friend of this land now, Sunset”.

I gave them the best grateful smile I could muster. No matter how much some bitter part of me wanted to think that this was just wergild, blood money for Caspian’s death, I knew better than that. It was an honest gift coming from their hearts - Pevensies knew no other way.

“It is time for you to go, little ones.” Under Aslan’s heavy gaze a tree untwisted itself into an arch, through which I could almost see the lush green of Equestria and the purple mountain of Canterlot. “You shall yet see each other again, in this world or the other.”

With a heavy heart and the last wave of my hoof, I stepped through the portal home.

Author's Notes:

And there it is, ladies and gentlemen. Fic is done.