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EDMUND PEVENSIE is not as light as he looks. And flying him across Narnia and up to the highest tower of the Telmarine castle, I'm beginning to wonder if I should have accepted Thrisnon's offer and carried Susan or Trumpkin instead. At least, I remind myself optimistically, he's only wearing light armour and not his full chainmail getup.
Securing my talons around the king to ensure I don't drop him, I take a wide approach to the northernmost wall tower, banking low around the cliffside palace on silent wingbeats. My dark feathers help to keep us concealed in the night sky, though the guards on patrol aren't suspicious of an attack by the Narnians, let alone an aerial assault by flying creatures they thought to be extinct, so we don't have much of a problem flying past them.
With my enhanced vision, I watch the Telmarine posted on the north tower from a safe distance, waiting for him to turn his back before advancing. When he does, I extend my wings and glide on the cool, night air toward the tower's stairway. Edmund tenses when we draw closer and I flare my feathers to slow down, trying to remain silent as I beat my wings and carefully land us on the sloping peak. He presses his back up against the face of the stairway's roof to keep from falling and looks over as I tuck in my wings, giving me a reassuring nod.
The clicking sounds of my talons against the tiles make me cringe, and when I hear the cautious bootsteps of the approaching guard I leap from my perch, spreading my wings to cut a sharp turn and tackle him beneath my weight. The guard crumples, a sickening crack reaching my ears as his helmet flies off and his head hits the stone beneath him before he can cry out. With his face uncovered, I recognize him as Rizalo.
Edmund slides off the peak roof of the stairway and lands next to me. "Nice one," he breathes, bending down to press his fingers to the man's neck. "He's alive." The king straightens, grinning at me as he pulls the torch from his belt. "I'll signal the others," he says, heading to the tower battlements.
I study Rizalo's face carefully, sculpting mine after his as I shift into my human form, this time modelling my whole appearance after the unconscious Telmarine. Being mindful of his now-broken arm — courtesy of my tackle — I quickly unbuckle all his armour and throw it off along with his clothes, leaving him only in his cotton undergarments. It's hardly my first time knocking a guard unconscious and parading around in his uniform, so it doesn't take me long, especially with the freezing air as encouragement.
"Rope," I order, testing out my imitation of Rizalo's voice. Not bad.
Edmund turns around from watching Caspian, Peter, Susan and Trumpkin fly in and visibly flinches at my appearance. "Bloody hell," he exclaims, brown eyes wide as he looks me up and down. "That's...uh..." he clears his throat uneasily, "...really convincing."
I can't help but laugh quietly at his alarm. "Good."
A little unnerved, he hands over the rope and we get to work binding the guard's unconscious form. It doesn't feel right to kill him while he's knocked out and can't defend himself, and Rizalo himself isn't a terrible person. He could've been nicer to me when I was a servant, of course, but he's hardly the worst of the men in this castle. And perhaps it's foolish to leave a Telmarine soldier alive, but with his arm now broken and a fresh head injury, I'm positive I've made him unfit for any upcoming battles. One less soldier on the battlefield either way.
