Daughter of Nowhere || A Narnia (Prince Caspian) Story

14: The Final Battle

For a moment, Ina could think of nothing but regret.

Regret that she didn't get to see the iridescent ocean before she died. Or the frosty mountains in the north and the rippling sand dunes of the desert. Regret that her whole life had either been spent within the four walls of a small cottage, or in the dingy streets of Telmar.

But then she remembered that she was surrounded by her allies—the closest to friends she'd ever had—and her death would buy them a chance to fight. That, she would not regret.

Yet by some miracle, she was not dead.

That miracle came in the form of High King Peter, who grabbed Miraz's shield a beat before it broke Ina's neck. He twisted it fiercely out of the Telmarine's grasp, and Miraz let go in shock.

"FIGHT ME!" Peter yelled, with more rage than Ina had ever seen him show before. "HONOR OUR DEAL!"

The Telmarine king roared and turned his brute strength on Peter, Ina forgotten on the ground. His onslaughts were blasts of fury, rash and reckless but undeniably powerful. Though Peter did his best to dodge, he caught blow after blow on his face, his chest—everywhere that Miraz could reach.

"No!" Ina scrambled to sit up, but was immediately overwhelmed by a flood of agony. She felt the earth tilt beneath her body before she realised that she was being carried out of the square. The movement seared her wounds even further, and she wasn't sure if the screaming came from her mouth or her head.

"...knee's shattered, ribs probably broken..." Ina couldn't discern the faces floating above her; her sight was still swimming with pinpoints of black. She felt someone wipe blood from her temple.

"Trumpkin, I need you to get me a stick and some rope." It was Edmund this time, his tone carrying a note of steel. "We'll get her back to the How after securing her leg."

"No," Ina wheezed and writhed. "I can still— Peter can't—"

Edmund's hands framed her face, forcing her to be still. "You've done enough, Ina."

"Ed, I'm so sor—"

"Don't," he said through his teeth. "Peter will win this." But he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Ina. His eyes darted back to the square, where Peter was still battling Miraz. They had both found their swords now; neither showed quarter nor mercy. Ina thought the Telmarine generals would have started the attack already, but they hadn't. The fight had everyone rooted to the ground, dumbfounded.

"Ina!" Two more figures loomed before her: Caspian and Susan, their hairs windswept. "Oh my god, what—" From their blanched faces, Ina gathered that she looked as awful as she felt.

"Later," Edmund gritted out. "Susan, do you have Lucy's medicine?"

"No, but..." She fumbled with a flask at her belt. "I mixed some of it with water. I don't know if it works."

Wasting no time, Susan unstoppered the bottle and poured its contents into Ina's mouth. She sputtered and choked, the liquid burning her lungs, but that heat quickly became soothing as the pain dulled into an ache. Soon, Ina was able to push herself off the ground with warbling hands.

Caspian let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "What did I say about not doing anything stupid?"

Ina gave him a rueful smile before a rack of coughs possessed her. Then, "Peter—"

She collapsed as soon as she tried to stand.

"I don't understand," she gasped, "the pain's gone, but—"