Disclaimer: Nope, Peter and Narnia aren't mine (waaaah) - only Palomnus, Tristam, Vettriano, and the Indy belong to me. After this chapter, though, I doubt even my OCs want me to own them!
AN: First, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! I am truly honored by your kind words and your helpful comments – the pressure's on now to keep it good! So, with that being said, we're heading into slightly darker waters with this nice long chapter – it was a hard one for me to write (a bit of writer's block, curse it!), but I hope it turned out ok… Enjoy!

V. Red Sails At Night

Several hours later, Peter woke from a light doze to find the light in his cabin had dimmed considerably. He could feel the sea had become a bit rougher while he slept, tossing the Indefatigable, smashing against her prow as she plunged southward with the cold north wind at her back. The sedative effects of his last dose of opium had almost completely worn away, and the irregular motion of the ship began to make him almost sick. His head pounded, his chest felt as if it were on fire, and the blankets around him were clammy with sweat.

"Palomnus?" Silence greeted him, and now he could hear the wind had risen also, whistling through minute cracks, battering at the thick, leaded glass in the windows.

"Anyone…at all?"

Nothing. Feet pounded the poop deck above his head, and voices rose and fell – the captain shouting orders, sailors yelling to one another. Something was happening – and it didn't sound good. Peter gritted his teeth in frustration and decided to try to sit up anyway, but the mere act of tensing muscle and raising his head even an inch brought such a horrid shock of pain, he cried out and fell back. "Curse…this infernal…weakness!" he spat, furious. "I…can't…even lift… ah… Oh, Aslan…help me…" this last came out as a broken whisper, and tears pooled in his eyes, running down the sides of his face as he blinked rapidly. "Get me…home…"

There came a sudden rush as the cabin door opened and after a moment slammed shut again, and the young man heard his valet's hooves clattering over the wooden floor. Several others' steps accompanied them, and soon Palomnus bent over the berth, tousled and smelling strongly of the sea.

"King Peter," he said, reaching up unobtrusively and gently smoothing away the tear tracks as he spoke, "Your captain has come to speak with you. Are you feeling well enough to receive him?"

The High King reached deeply inside for strength and then nodded, smiling gratefully at the faun for his kindness. Palomnus very carefully eased the pillows up a bit in the berth, helping Peter turn his head to look out into the room. Captain Vettriano, a weather-beaten man with a leathery complexion and a crooked nose, bowed, his hat doffed. Tristam stood at his side, his gaze sharp and assessing as he bowed also.

"Your majesty," the captain said, "It cheers my heart t'see you awake. We're honored t'have you aboard, my lord, although we all wish 'twere under different circumstances."

"As do…I," Peter replied. He liked Vettriano very much and had great respect for his knowledge of the Great Eastern Ocean and of sailing in general.

"I asked t'speak with you, your majesty, as I wanted t'tell you of our situation." The captain paused and turned his hat over in his hands. "We're just 'pproaching the Seven Islands, and we've sighted sail behind us." Another pause. "Red sail, sire."

Peter let this information sink in and compressed his lips into a thin line. "I see…the pirate problem…has not yet…been resolved to…our royal satisfaction," he said, "Will…they catch us?"

"Without a doubt, sire," Vettriano said, and his frustration was evident. "The Indy's as fast as they come in her class, but these blasted thieves are smaller and quicker. She'll have us outside of the hour."

"What do they want of us?" Palomnus asked, "We have no cargo. Certainly they can tell we're a warship and not rich merchants."

"Oh, we have cargo," Tristam said, raising an eyebrow sardonically. He flicked a finger towards Peter. "His majesty is the greatest of prizes."

The faun understood immediately and inhaled deeply. "Ransom."

The captain looked wretched, and Tristam nodded.

"Do they think they stand a chance against a ship of the High King's navy?" Palomnus inquired stridently, "With the High King himself aboard?"

"Normally, no," Vettriano said, "But the ship is empty of soldiers, good Palomnus. All we have are the crew, and while they will fight t'the death, they're no match for pirates."

"And if his majesty will forgive me," Tristam inclined his head, "he is not in any shape to be on deck providing inspiring leadership. In fact, I am entirely certain that his injured state is what has precipitated this attack. Apparently we were not as circumspect as we tried to be in keeping the news quiet."

"I'll say, though," said the captain, "He's a bold fellow indeed who would challenge Narnia's might this way."

"But what is to be done?" asked the faun.

"We will fly…the white flag, and I…will give…myself…over to them." Peter interjected quietly, resigned acceptance in his voice. "The…treasury at the Cair is…sufficient to cover…anything…they should…ask."

"But your highness!" Palomnus objected, "This is foolishness!"

The young man set his jaw stubbornly. "I…will not…have these…sailors dying…on my account. Not while I…can…do something to protect…them."

The three glanced at one another. "My lord, listen to me." Tristam went forward and knelt on one knee beside the berth, looking up at his king intently. "Delivering yourself into their hands does Narnia no good. You are wounded, and you will not receive adequate care from them. You could very well die before any ransom was paid. Your majesty's concern for your subjects is most admirable, but in this case, it is unwise to place their welfare before your own."

Peter narrowed his eyes and was about to respond when Vettriano spoke. "I agree with Tristam, sire. T'present yourself voluntarily to such scum would only serve t'embolden the lot of 'em. Any of us would gladly lay down our lives for yours."

Palomnus stamped a hoof and uttered a small sound of impatience. "I am fairly overcome by the nobility in the room," he said tersely, "It does you all credit, to be sure. You are forgetting, however, that when our bodies litter the deck, the pirates will do as they please and take his highness anyway. You said yourself, my dear captain; we are no match for them in arms. For now, our strength lies in cleverness."

A tense silence held sway for several heartbeats, and then Tristam smiled slowly. "Then I believe I have a plan."

Captain Vettriano eyed the wind-tossed clouds in the darkening sky and stood a little straighter, winding his fingers tightly around the grip of his sword. The pirate ship, aptly named the Rapacious, had finally pulled alongside the Indefatigable, and boarding hooks now whistled through the air to land with a sharp crack on the deck and entangle in the rigging. Shouting fiercely, the buccaneers swung over or climbed across, and while the crew put up a token resistance, no lives were lost, and only a very few sustained shallow wounds. The Narnians' weapons were taken, and they were subsequently herded into a group near the capstan; their hands were tied tightly behind their backs and looped into a long line. The pirates fanned out over the ship, rousting out those who had hidden below and indulging in a bit of looting and breaking as well.

It was then that another man climbed over the side of the Indefatigable, and Vettriano knew this was the captain. Tall and powerfully built, he had deep blue eyes and a massive black beard braided and bedecked with trinkets, coins, and small bones. His clothing and the skin showing was filthy, but he carried himself like royalty, and when his gaze fell on the huddled captives, his face split in a wide smile.

"Ah, greetings to you, my friends!" he cried, "A wonderful day, is it not?"

He received no answer, but this did not deter his cheerful spirits. "Come now, which one of you is the commander of this fine vessel?"

Vettriano stepped forward, and the pirate guarding them released him from his bonds. "I am," he said, "What 'tis the meaning of this?"

The pirate leader smiled again, and greed gleamed in his eyes. "Financial gain, of course," he responded, rubbing his large, bony hands together eagerly, "at your expense, my friend. What else?"

"The High King of Narnia will not stand for this outrage," Vettriano said warningly, "You will be hunted down and destroyed, mark my words."

The other captain smiled nastily and leaned close, the fetid stench of his unwashed body almost overpowering. "The way I hear it," he said casually, "The High King of Narnia cannot stand at all."

A sudden loud commotion from the direction of the master cabin interrupted the Vettriano's reply, and they both turned to see one of the pirates dragging a protesting Palomnus out onto the deck. "You cannot do this!" he exclaimed, "His majesty is grievously wounded! To move him might mean his death! In the name of Aslan, please…" The pirate struck him across the face and continued to bring him forward.

The man threw the faun down in the midst of the Narnian sailors and returned to the darkened cabin. Vettriano held his breath as he and another ragged brigand came out once more, bearing between them a heavily bandaged, limp figure, trailing several long blankets from the berth. They brought their burden across the deck and lay him down, none too gently, at the pirate captain's feet. The other buccaneers gathered around their leader, the better to see.

"Who could this be here?" he asked, his glee proving he knew quite well who it was. He bent down and unwound the bandaging around the young man's head. Vettriano tried to keep the anxiety out of his expression and failed. If this didn't work, things were going to turn nasty quickly. One by one, the dirty white lengths of cloth fell away until eventually the face was revealed, pasty white and smeared with a liberal amount of blood. Tristam had done an exceptionally good job of making himself look terribly ill and wounded.

"Excellent," the brigand said and nudged the physician with his boot, bringing forth a realistic groan. "I am certain to receive a king's ransom for this one." He glanced up at Vettriano and chuckled. "Don't fear, my friend, he'll be well taken care of."

The Narnian captain managed to continue looking irate, in spite of the relief he felt inside. The pirate swept an exaggerated bow towards the man at his feet and motioned to the two other pirates who had remained at his side. "Escort his royal highness to his new quarters, will you?"

One attempted to do his bidding, and the other remained standing quietly for a moment. Then he spat a long plume of tobacco juice and said laconically, "I would. 'Cept I seen his royal highness once, and that ain't him."

The very air seemed to freeze. Slowly, the pirate captain turned back to Vettriano, and all pretense of good humor had vanished. "Not his royal highness, eh?" he said precisely, his eyes hard and dangerous, seeing the truth in the other's face. "Well, then. Would you care to tell me where he really is?"

Vettriano swallowed hard, but remained silent. Tristam lay still, his eyes closed in failure.

"Tear the ship apart," the brigand ordered curtly, and the pirates moved to obey. The sounds of wanton destruction came to Narnian ears, wood splintering, chests being hacked apart, cabinets being torn open, supplies being opened and dumped. Nothing escaped their attention, not even the ship's boats hanging from their block and tackles on either side of the deck. Their covers were raised and the contents prodded. The pirates eventually returned empty-handed to their captain, who fingered his beard thoughtfully.

"I know the High King is aboard this ship," he said, "You're sure you won't tell me where you've hidden him?" Silence. "No?" the pirate asked, looking to each of the Narnian sailors and Palomnus, who stared defiantly back. "No?" There was a whisper of leather against steel as the captain drew his dagger. "Not even now?" and with a frightful smile, he leaned over and swiftly carved the Archenlander's eyes from his head.

In that instant, the air became unbreathable, not only from the sickening tang of blood, but the horror of what had just occurred. The Narnian captain fought hard with his rising gorge, and Tristam screamed, his hands flying up too late, his fingers scrabbling at his face. The pirate captain, triumph painting his features, held up his reddened dagger for all to see and then tossed away the jellied orbs speared upon it. "Still not feeling cooperative?" he asked.

Stricken, Vettriano thought he could not have spoken even if he had wished it. Tristam was blinded, and he himself was no doubt facing the same fate or worse. Perhaps the entire crew would be tortured and slaughtered, and King Peter would be left to die slowly of starvation if his injuries did not finish him first. Even paying a ransom would be better than that happening. Still, his mouth felt as though it was sewn shut and his body had turned to stone. The situation had taken a dreadful turn for the worst, and he didn't have the faintest idea how to fix it.

The pirate captain's expression hardened. "You have tested my patience beyond its limit," he said coldly and gestured with his weapon. "Put those boats over the side."

Several pirates rushed to do as he ordered, and the block and tackles rumbled as the ropes rushed through them at uncontrolled speed; the boats themselves plummeted downward and landed in the ocean with a mighty splash. One overturned, and the canvas cover loosened, spilling blankets and survival supplies out into the waves. The other boat rocked perilously, steadied, and then began to bob away from the Indefatigable. Palomnus's gaze rested on it for the space of an instant as it drifted into view, and then he quickly looked back at the deck.

"Tie them with the others," was the next command, and Palomnus and Vettriano were pushed roughly into place, their hands bound behind them into the line. The physician was left where he lay, writhing slightly and moaning, blood still oozing down his cheeks.

The pirate captain stepped back. "Fire the ship," he said, and when this brought no panicked cries of confession, he shrugged almost indifferently and turned to make his way back to the Rapacious.

"King Edmund will hunt you down like the dog you are and lay you t'waste for this!" Vettriano shouted, "You have violated all of Narnia!" The pirate did not respond, and one of the others who had not gone to fetch coals from the Indefatigable's galley savagely struck the Narnian captain on the back of his head. He fell forward, senseless.

It did not take long for the brigands to set several fires in various places in and around the ship, and bright orange flames leapt forward eagerly, voraciously consuming everything in their path. Clouds of choking smoke rolled upwards, heat waves danced and shimmered; thick, black tar bubbled and sizzled between cracks. Tongues of fire snaked up the rigging and spread to the sails, and the High King's most prized warship soon became a towering inferno.

The pirates, seeing that all was to their satisfaction, returned to their own ship and released their binding ropes and hooks. As the Rapacious sailed slowly away into the gathering darkness, Palomnus twisted his hands, trying frantically to loosen the ropes, but the knots held good. "We mustn't give up!" he shouted to his fellow captives, who were also doing their best to escape. "Please, Aslan," he whispered to himself, sweat running down his reddened face from the ever-approaching fires, "Please give us hope, for without your aid, we – and your High King, Peter – are truly, utterly lost."