Peter and Edmund, both dressed in full armor, strutted out from the small exit of the How, with the Narnians cheering them on on either side. Though they seemed extremely confident, they really were not, for they could distinctively hear their rapid heartbeats echoing and pulsing in their ears. Caspian and Susan, waiting for them at the edge of the area staked for the combat, was no exception.

Miraz, who stationed himself and his throne directly opposite the How, was tightening some parts of his armor, preparing for the combat. He tilted his head towards General Glozelle slightly, whispering words only he could hear:

"If it should appear to be going on poorly..." hinted Miraz, glancing periodically at the loaded crossbow in his hands. "Understood, my Lord" he replied.

Peter and Miraz stepped into the combat area from their opposite sides, both in armor, both with helmets and shields and swords. They began to circle each other in close proximity. The cheering died down in an instant, and complete silence followed, except for the occasional clip clip clip of their chain mail.

"There is still time to surrender" said Miraz, his eyes reducing to slits.

"Well, feel free" replied Peter rather lightheartedly.

"How many more must die for the throne?"

"Just one"

Peter pulled his helmet over his face.

Then, he jumped and swung at Miraz, putting in the force that was driven by his hate for the usurper. Miraz blocked the blow, their swords flashing in the sunlight. There was a second and third blow coming from both parties, and soon only shouts and claps could be heard for both armies had begun cheering.

***

Back in the depths of the forest, the loud galloping of a horse could be heard as Lucy and Amethy rode away. Then there wasn't only a constant clip clipity clop of a single horse but a mass of hoovebeats from behind. Telmarine soldiers on horses were pursuing them, coming closer by the second. This was the worst they had anticipated. And now they're stuck with fleeing for their lives.

"They've seen us!" panicked Lucy.

Amethy contemplated. Dying here, or dying there. Dying here, or dying there. She told herself repeatedly. But she didn't want to die. Not just yet. She wasn't ready to experience the taste of death - slipping away, slowly, breathlessly, helplessly into nothingness.

Determined, she turned herself around on the horse expertly, so that now the two girls sat with their backs against each other's on Destier.

"What are you doing?" asked Lucy, keeping her focus on the uneven path in front of her.

"Don't worry, Lucy" she replied. She reached for a bow from the quiver on her back and strung it on her bow. Twang went the string on the bow as she sent an arrow flying towards a Telmarine soldier who already had his own crossbow loaded and ready. The arrow hit the soldier squarely in the chest and he fell off his horse, his pulse stopping. His horse, startled at the sudden emptiness without his rider's weight on his back, reared up and got in the way of another.

With a few consecutive shots Amethy had taken three soldiers down, still on horseback.

There were four soldiers to go, and who knew if more were soon to come? Amethy shot one last arrow before the remaining soldiers were too close for archery. Taking out a knife, she brought it over her head, taking aim in a mere second. The weapon left her grip and was hurled at the nearest soldier.

It was getting close, closer...

It missed her target.

The moment she sighed disappointedly the weapon struck the horse of the other Telmarine soldier. A shrill, high-pitched neigh came from the horse as the pain forced it to collaspe, sending his rider flying to the ground with a sickening thud.

The last soldier was closing in.

***

At the battlefield, the two Kings proceeded with their combat. With beads of sweat lining their hairlines and an inconsistent heaving of breaths, it was obvious that both Kings were already down on their energy. With a cry Peter sent the hilt of his sword down on his opponent's back, but Miraz spun around at a speed so fast that Peter could not register. Before he knew it Miraz sent a blow in his face, sending his helmet sliding off his head and tumbling onto the stone ground.

Give yourself an advantage. Wound your opponent. Peter remembered from a book of combat tips he read - rather throughly for a five hundred paged book - the last time he'd been in Narnia. Not that he enjoyed inflicting bloodshed and agony on someone else, but he knew very well that someone had to die in exchange for peace. Recovering, the High King ducked down and swung his blade low so that it sliced the area just behind the knee, causing Miraz to wince, dropping his guard for a brief moment. Miraz snuck a small glance at Glozelle, angered by the fact that he still held the loaded crossbow in his arms, not making any intention to give him an advantage in the field.

Faking his weakness, Miraz slowed down his movements, sending sloppy attacks that was easily blocked by his opponent. Breaking the momentum, he leapt towards Peter unexpectedly, gritting his teeth as the throbbing of his wound began to intesify.

Peter fell in an attempt to dodge the deadly blade, but having trained for such 'worse case senarios', he got up as soon as he fell. Yet this time he stumbled on Miraz's extended leg, hitting his back against the hard concrete ground.

Grinning, Miraz positioned his foot on the edge of his shield, using full use of his own weight to push it downwards. A sickening crack of a solid sounded. The shield was certainly still in good shape, and by the sharp pain that shot through him Peter knew that something in him had gone wrong.

Then came the merciless swings of Miraz's sword, but Peter managed to roll his way out of the blade's path, most missing him terribly nearly. He kept up with rolling and blocking with his shield, until he came to an abrupt stop and kicked Miraz in the ankles, causing him to fall.

They both got on their feet as fast as they could, their breathing hard.

"Does his highness need a respite?" asked Miraz, though it was exceptionally obvious that he was the one who needed it.

"Five minutes?" Peter suggested.

"Three" answered Miraz, who half stomped, half limped to his army like a child. He then threw his helmet down and glared at Glozelle as if his eyes would start out of his head.

"I am sure you will not let it get that close again" he spat.

On the opposing side, Peter took a glance behind Caspian's shoulder at the How, at the Narnians, their gazes filled with hope.

Hope. That was what they needed to do. Hope and pray that Aslan will be by their side.

He then turned to Susan.

"Better get up there, just in case. I don't expect the Telmarines will keep their word" said Peter.

Susan nodded and stepped towards Peter, tip-toeing so that she could engulf him in a tight and encouraging embrace. He hissed at the pain.

"Sorry" she apologised.

"It's alright" replied Peter, nodding as Susan turned and made her way towards the How.

"Keep smiling" Edmund told him, glancing at the Narnians. With his sword up raised up high, Peter turned to the Narnians, forcing a huge smile which showed off his pearly whites despite the pain in his left shoulder. The Narnians cheered louder than before for their King, some jumping up and down and others clapping wildly.

At the sudden cheering, Miraz turned to Lord Sopespian, "How does he look to you?" asked Miraz.

"Young" Sopespian replied lamely.

"But his Majesty is doing extremely well... for his age" Glozelle pointed out. He tightened the bandage around Miraz's knee with his gaze still fixed on the High King, not noticing Miraz wincing from the pressure.

It was a similar situation for the other party, for Peter sat himself down on a small stool, holding his arm and groaning in pain. Edmund aided him in taking off his shield and began feeling about his shoulder.

"I think it's dislocated" said Peter. Edmund checked the bones.

"What do you think happens back home when you die here?" asked Peter. "You know, you've always been there. I never really..."

"Ouch!" Peter gave a yelp of pain the instance his shoulder was popped back into the right socket. Rolling his shoulder to ease the pain, he shot a glare at Edmund for cutting him off mid-sentence, again.

"Save it for later" Edmund said, patting his back firmly. Peter stood up again, rejecting the use of his helmet. At this, Miraz pushed his helmet away too.

With heavy footsteps and the weight of their armors weighing their exhausted bodies down, the two opponent's made their way onto the arena again.

Peter, again, was the first to attack, hurling his sword downwards with the use of gravity. Miraz parried it with his own sword, pushing Peter backwards. He then pushed his shield at Peter repeatedly, not giving Peter any spare time to repel.

With a few twists of his blade around Miraz's Peter managed to send his sword flying onto the ground. Peter took this opportunity to stab Miraz, but failed, giving Miraz the upper hand as he grabbed Peter's sword and flung it aside.

Both unarmed, Miraz continued with thrusting his shield in Peter's direction, like continuous strong waves in the vast ocean. Peter caught its rim in his hands, twisting it firmly. The duo began to wrestle each other, until Miraz's hand finally gave way, presenting Peter with the opportunity to twist his shield to his back. Growling in pain, Miraz elbowed Peter in the face using his free arm, forcing Peter to reel back.

Miraz dove for his sword and swung it at Peter who blocked both blows with his vambraces. He rolled out of the way and got to his feet, lunging forward before punching down (hard - really hard) exactly at where he had wounded Miraz's knee. Miraz gave a loud cry and fell on to his knees.

"Respite! Respite!"

"Now's not the time for chivalry, Pete!" Edmund's voice rang.

Hovering his sword above his head, he brought it down on the man in front of him. He stopped, the blade just inches from Miraz's head. He hesitated, then dropped his sword and turned on his heel with a sigh. In a flash Miraz stood from his spot and broke into a sprint towards Peter with his sword raised.

"Look out!" shouted Edmund anxiously.

Peter dodged just when the sword threatened to crush his skull, spun around, grabbed Miraz's held up sword and twisted it out of his hand. In one movement he stabbed Miraz just below the armpit, causing Miraz to gasp in pain before falling to his knees in front of Peter, pain written on his face.

Peter held up his sword, ready to plunge it down and take the life of the usurper. But yet again, he hesitated.

"What's the matter boy? Too cowardly to take a life?" taunted Miraz, grinning.

"It's not mine to take" Peter spat at him, before walking straight to Caspian.

Stepping forward, Caspian gripped the hilt of the sword from Peter. The sword positioned in a stance ready to attack, he took slow, calculated steps towards Miraz, the silence on the field intensitfying to the suspense. He raised his sword slowly, his death glare fixed on Miraz. Then Miraz spoke:

"Perhaps I was wrong. It seems you have the makings of a Telmarine king after all" he finished with a smirk, then bowed his head to take the blow.

There was only one word to describe what Caspian felt: hate. The hate that has tortured him ever since the day he was forced to flee. The boiling hatred in his nerves when he discovered his father's murderer.

Caspian raised his sword as high as he could possibly reach, a prickly feeling attacking the back of his eyes. With a battle cry, he plunged the sword down, in full force.

He stabbed... a small patch of soil between the cracks of stone.

"Not one like you" he declared through gritted teeth. "Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their Kingdom" Caspian spun around and walked towards the Narnians, erupting cheers and shouts from his people. The Telmarine Army, on the contrary, did not dare utter a single word at their defeat.

Sopespian walked over to Miraz, helping him up slowly.

"My king" he cooed.

"I will deal with you when this is over"

"It is over" Sopespian said in his ear, before striking him with something sharp from behind. At the fatal blow, Miraz fell limp onto the ground, an arrow with a red end sticking from his lower back - Queen Susan's arrow.

Sopespian ran up to retrieve Miraz's sword. "Treachery! They shot him! They murdered our king! To arms!" He hollered at the top of his lungs, holding the sword vertically to the ground.

The Telmarine Army roared.

***