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When the party has died down, Isabella, for one, is well and truly exhausted. She explores the palace until she finds a room with a bed in it, and into this bed she flops, still in her clothes and holding her staff and carrying the cordial in her pocket. She sleeps late, because the party kept her up so late and she hadn't really slept the night before; but around noon, she stirs, and gets up, and goes looking for James and wherever her backpack may have got to. The backpack she finds in the great hall where the principal mass of the party was; some enterprising creature took both bags from the battlefield at Beruna up to the castle for them, and she only wishes she knew who it was. She takes her bag to her room and carries James's with her and continues looking for her friend.
He provides the requested information, circling lower still to get a good look at the weapons so he can list how many of what kinds of those. A sizeable little band - especially with so few fighting knights of Narnia in the vicinity to meet them - but nowhere near an army.
When he gets close enough the vulture spots him and the creatures become alarmed. A dryad with a slingshot aims a rock straight at his eye.
Isabella is on her balcony playing a board game with a hedgehog who has been visiting the castle.
"A band of about thirty of the Witch's creatures is attacking Cair Paravel from the northwest. They're about three miles from the palace, about two and a half from the knight-hall. Stay out of their way, warn any creatures you can, get the innocent and vulnerable to safety." And then, to only the subset who are fighting knights - "Come to Cair Paravel. We'll meet them here."
"Another time," Isabella says to the hedgehog, and she gets up to sweep into her room and pluck her cloak from its hook and swirl it on around her shoulders. "What's the composition of the band?" she asks James.
The vulture seizes two sword-bearing rat comrades and flies up after Flit, intending to drop them on his back where they can attack and he'll be unable to kick at them.
"One vulture, one ogre, two raccoons, three hyenas, a few rats, five dryads, seven wolves, eight dwarves," she says.
Flit beats his wings harder, straining to his absolute limit for as long as he can. He's big and heavy, but his wings are strong. He keeps ahead of the vulture.
"Besides you and me and the household noncombatants what've we got in range?" asks Isabella, picking up her bow and arrows.
The stone falls short, tumbling in the mighty downdraft from Flit's wingbeats. He whinnies nervously anyway.
"Flit found them. He's bolting for Cair Paravel as fast as he can, but I think he's being pursued and he hasn't said by what or how fast they are. Fighting knights who can get here in time - one unicorn, one griffin, one leopard, one fox, one badger, two centaurs, five dwarves. More on their way, but that's going to be the first wave. I'm going out on the ground; depending how close they are to the castle when we engage, you might want to be up on the walls, or out where you can get at the wounded."
"Out, I think. I have armor on top of the new weapon." She buttons the cloak, pulls up the hood.
One knight in particular is beginning to really outpace the enemy at last, flying higher farther faster more desperately than he ever has in his life. This shot misses him too.
And the vulture isn't catching up. He leaves off, descending with the rats to rejoin the rest of the company. They proceed forward double-time, rats on the backs of wolves, ogre carrying two of the slower dwarves. The dryad keeps slinging rocks at Flit but no longer really expects to hit him while he's fleeing.
"Think you and your bow are up to archery from griffinback?" she asks on the way. "If so, I'm telling Sunstone to pick you up. If not, I'll assign you a guard."
"I can ride Sunstone and shoot, yes. I'll have him land if someone on our side's badly hurt."
"Okay." She finds Sunstone's knight-pin and tells him, "You're carrying the queen for this battle. She'll be using her bow and asking you to land if she needs to heal someone."
Speaking of which, Flit seems to be finally slowing down; she judges that he's far enough ahead of the incoming creatures to let himself coast a little. Also good. A handy way to track their progress, even without making him waste his precious breath on reports.
And now the waiting, once she's chosen her ground - the top of a slight rise northwest of the castle, so the tired enemy will have to come at them along the gentle upward slope. If she squints, she can just make out a dot in the sky that might be Flit on his approach.
Isabella, meanwhile, finds that an incoming knight-dwarf is favoring a foot, obliges him to take a bit of cordial before there's thick fighting making it difficult for her to offer it to him, and scans the terrain with a view to what's relevant for an archer on griffonback.