The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

out below him and even (he thought) a hint of the desert beyond it. But the sun, which
had perhaps two hours or so to go before it set, was in his eyes and he couldn't make
things out distinctly.
Here the army halted and spread out in a line, and there was a great deal of rearranging. A
whole detachment of very dangerous-looking Talking Beasts whom Shasta had not
noticed before and who were mostly of the cat kind (leopards, panthers, and the like)
went padding and growling to take up their positions on the left. The giants were ordered
to the right, and before going there they all took off something they had been carrying on
their backs and sat down for a moment. Then Shasta saw that what they had been
carrying and were now putting on were pairs of boots: horrid, heavy, spiked boots which
came up to their knees. Then they sloped their huge clubs over their shoulders and
marched to their battle position. The archers, with Queen Lucy, fell to the rear and you
could first see them bending their bows and then hear the twangtwang as they tested the
strings. And wherever you looked you could see people tightening girths, putting on
helmets, drawing swords, and throwing cloaks to the ground. There was hardly any
talking now. It was very solemn and very dreadful. "I'm in for it now - I really am in for it
now," thought Shasta. Then there came noises far ahead: the sound of many men
shouting and a steady thud-thud-thud
"Battering ram," whispered Corin. "They're battering the gate."
Even Corin looked quite serious now.
"Why doesn't King Edmund get on?" he said. "I can' stand this waiting about. Chilly too."
Shasta nodded: hoping he didn't look as frightened as felt.
The trumpet at last! On the move now - now trotting the banner streaming out in the
wind. They had topped low ridge now, and below them the whole scene sudden opened
out; a little, many-towered castle with its gate towards them. No moat, unfortunately, but
of course the gate shut and the portcullis down. On the walls they could see, like little
white dots, the faces of the defenders. Down below, about fifty of the Calormenes,
dismounted, were steadily swinging a great tree trunk against the gate. But at once the
scene changed. The main bulk of Rabadash's men had been on foot ready to assault the
gate. But now he had seen the Narnians sweeping down from the ridge. There is no doubt
those Calormenes are wonderfully trained. It seemed to Shasta only a second before a
whole line of the enemy were on horseback again, wheeling round to meet them,
swinging towards them.
And now a gallop. The ground between the two armies grew less every moment. Faster,
faster. All swords out now, all shields up to the nose, all prayers said, all teeth clenched.
Shasta was dreadfully frightened. But it suddenly came into his head, "If you funk this,
you'll funk every battle all your life. Now or never."