Authoress's Note: Happy New Year, dear readers! I'm on a roll. I hope you enjoy the next installment, much earlier than I expected myself! Many thanks to the dear folks who left reviews. I am most grateful for your continued readership and encouragement! I hope you enjoy the chapter.
For reference, in this chapter and chapters that follow, the Jewel's officers and crew will navigate by referring to the degrees of a circle around the ship in the following manner: 0 for due north, 90 for due east, 180 for due south, and 270 for due west. Thus, for example, course one-eight-zero means due south, while course zero-four-five means northeast. For anyone who actually knows their way around a sailing vessel, I sincerely apologize if this is not the way it is really done and thank you all for extending me a bit of grace. Most my knowledge of naval navigation comes from watching Star Trek (the real thing, not that new rubbish).
Also, in case I haven't made it clear recently, Galen's boot knife, often referred to as a dirk, is a long Scottish dagger.
Disclaimer: The realm of Narnia is not mine, unfortunately. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter the Thirty-first: The Pros and Cons of Dueling
6 Fairdawn 2076
"How did you sleep, my lady?" Galen found his friend standing along the railing amidship. It was a glorious morning, sunny and just barely crisp. The night before, the sea had been somewhat rough, stirred up by the storm's passing, but now it was as fair as could be. As Captain Torin had predicted, the storm passed the Jewel to the south during the night. Once the storm had passed, Captain Torin adjusted the ship's course to the southeast. Above their heads, the sailors sang cheerfully from the rigging. Under the fresh wind, the Jewel was making good time as it headed towards Terebinthia.
"Very well, thank you—indeed, better than I have in a long while," the Archen princess answered with a smile, her forearms resting on the rail. A puff of wind glanced across the ship and tossed the two friends' hair. The princess had eschewed the dresses of prior days in favor of the practical attire she often wore for training: brown trousers tucked neatly into chocolate brown riding boots, a soft creamy linen shirt with cuffed sleeves, delicately embroidered, and a rich brown leather overdress featuring a close bodice that laced up the front, embellished leather cap sleeves, and a short skirt with a pointed hemline that fell a few inches below the princess's knee. Once again, her sword hung at her side.
"No diplomatic dress today?" Galen asked cheekily, leaning his back to the railing and crossing his arms as he looked to his friend with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"No, Aslan be praised," was her reply. "We won't reach Terebinthia until tomorrow evening at the earliest." The Archen princess surveyed her comrade with a raised eyebrow. He, too, was dressed more comfortably in a soft slate-blue shirt and a leather jerkin. "I see I am not the only one eschewing diplomatic protocol today."
The Narnian laughed heartily.
"Well, if we are both dressed for training, how's about we earn our breakfast?" It was Lyra's turn to host a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"Do I detect a challenge, my lady?" The Narnian knight feigned shock.
"Perceptive, my friend," Lyra rejoined dryly, standing away from the railing and drawing her sword in a twinkling.
"I humbly accept, your highness," Galen bowed deeply with an overstated flourish. Before he had risen or drawn his sword, Lyra's keen blade whistled toward him. With a yelp, the Narnian lept out of the way and drew his own blade to defend himself.
"I'll have no such nonsense today, if you please, my good knight!" Lyra laughed.
"We'll see about that," Galen groused in good humor, then offered a stroke of his own.
The clear ring of steel meeting steel rippled through the air, and within moments, Galen and Lyra had a crowd of eager spectators cheering them on as the Jewel's sailors dropped from the rigging or ran from the mess to see what the commotion was about.
"Teach him a lesson, princess!" One young sailor shouted as Lyra struck at her opponent with a series of quick blows.
"Come on, Galen! Don't let the menfolk down!" A marine countered, then cheered as Galen parried the blows skillfully and offered a Narnian trick in return.
A wager or two may have changed hands among the spectators, and the morning's former peace lay hopelessly shattered by cheers, shouts, and claps.
As the pair fought, they had to take care not to damage — or trip on — any of the ship's rigging and equipment. Galen found it an interesting challenge, though Lyra seemed to have encountered the challenge before, as she ducked expertly beneath the ropes in her path and used them to her advantage. Her eyes twinkled as she fought, but Galen was quick to learn and soon he adapted to the obstacle-laden field of battle.
"That's the way!"
"You almost had him, my lady!"
"Hurry up, man! We haven't all day to waste!"
At last, Galen's Narnian training served him well and he found an opening. Feinting towards the mainmast, he rolled under the sweep of Lyra's blade, reached across his body to draw his knife from his boot with his left hand, blocked the princess's next stroke with his sword as he came to a half-kneeling position, and finally landed the would-be finishing blow to his opponent's torso. A cheer went up from about half the sailors, and a disappointed groan from the other half.
"Yield, my lady?"
"Aye, good sir," Lyra laughed. "Well fought!" She bowed slightly before returning her sword to its scabbard. Galen stood and returned the lady's bow before returning both blades to their respective sheaths.
Raucous applause followed, and a few sailors clapped the Narnian on the back.
"That's enough slacking-off for today!" Lieutenant Commander Barstowe's voice cut through the clamor. "Back to work," the second-mate ordered, though not without a good-natured laugh of his own.
The sailors began to disperse and return to their posts, while Galen and Lyra ducked into the Officers' Mess and sat down breathlessly to a well-earned breakfast.
Many leagues to the southwest, the palm trees and hibiscus flowers of the Isle of Morvarid swayed in a warm, gentle breeze. In the Grand Vizier's wide, low sandstone palace (which, unlike the Duke of Galma's abode, really deserved the word), Lady Juliana reclined on a rich, low divan in a well-appointed chamber. Since arriving at the palace, albeit against her will, she had heard nothing from either the Grand Vizier or his attendants. In fact, she had been treated extremely well. It only befit her status as a noblewoman, she thought. The servants barely spoke to her, but they placed before her dishes of sugared nuts, exquisitely flavored ices, sherbets, and cinnamon-flavored pastries, cakes of raisins and dates, and many other delicacies she hardly deserved. In addition, her closet was well-stocked with silken gowns and embroidered slippers.
For the past few days, Juliana had been content to enjoy these offerings. At last, though, she was becoming restless. Finally, she plied the nearest maidservant for answers.
"What does your master want with me?" Juliana asked the girl, uncharacteristically bluntly.
"I do not know, mistress," was the girl's demur reply.
"I wish to seek an audience with him."
The girl blinked in surprise. "You desire to meet with the Grand Vizier?"
"Yes," Juliana's green eyes flashed with impatience. "See that it is arranged."
"I...I will try to request it, mistress," the servant girl bobbed a curious little curtesy before leaving the room.
Juliana laid back on the divan and reached for an ice flavored with pineapple. She smiled at the exotic flavor. Perhaps her fate would not be as unpleasant as she had thought.
Later that morning, Galen was reclining against the ship's rail chatting with a young ensign by the name of Donovan.
"Are you by any chance related to a young Anvard soldier of the same name?" Galen queried.
"Aye, my lord. He is my cousin."
"Then it is doubly a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your cousin fought honorably in the battle with the Telmarines last month," the Narnian smiled.
"I am gratified to hear it. Perhaps I may rival him by the end of the voyage," the young officer's blue eyes flashed with anticipation.
"I can almost guarantee you'll have the opportunity!" Galen replied. After a moment, the Narnian's gaze wandered to the platform at the top of the mainmast. "Could you show me how to climb up yonder, my good man?"
"To the fighting top? Aye, follow me!" Ensign Donovan answered, turning to the rope ladder fastened to the outer hull below the railing. Swinging deftly onto the ropes, the young ensign began to climb. Galen endeavored to follow, swinging up somewhat less gracefully and halting at intervals as he accustomed to the footholds.
"The ropes are regularly placed. Just keep focused on where you're going, and soon you'll be there," Donovan encouraged. Galen began to get the hang of it, and soon the two reached the fighting top, where a sailor was stationed as lookout. A spyglass hung on a leather strap around his neck, while a bow and quiver were secured on a hook nearby. The sailor nodded in salute as the Archen officer and Narnian knight pulled themselves onto the platform.
Far below, the deck seemed to pitch and roll terribly, or so the young Narnian's stomach seemed to think.
"Look to the horizon first, sir," Donovan instructed. "The motion gets easier if you've something to steady your sight."
Galen followed his instructions, and soon the wave of nausea that had threatened to overcome him passed. Relaxing, he leaned on the rail and looked astern. The sea was churned to a white and turquoise foam in the ship's wake, and a little ways to their starboard, a small whale breathed out a cloud of vapor.
"Pods of porpoises follow the ship sometimes," young Donovan smiled. "There!" He pointed as one of the sleek marine creatures jumped through the air and splashed back into the water.
Galen laughed. "I've never seen the like!"
"Indeed? Have you never been to sea, my lord?"
"Nay," Galen shook his head. "Until a few months ago, I lived all my life in Narnia's Shuddering Wood. I can navigate a forest without a problem, but the sea is so different I haven't a clue!"
"Stick around the crew of the Jewel and we'll remedy that soon enough!" The Archen officer laughed. "I should return to the deck. Give a shout if you need anything!" Donovan agilely threw one foot under the railing, then the other, and soon disappeared down the ropes.
Galen found he soon accustomed to the exaggerated rocking motion and became lost in thought as he scanned the horizon around the ship. He was looking east, just off the Jewel's starboard bow, when the sailor beside him suddenly gave a shout.
"Smoke off the port bow!" He bellowed. "I make it eight miles, heading zero-two-five."
Galen started, then looked where the sailor was pointing. Indeed, a column of smoke rose against the horizon. Below, Commander Randolph's deep voice could be heard barking commands.
"Helmsman, make your course zero-two-five; all hands to battlestations, Captain to the bridge!"
A shrill series of whistles rang out, and instantly the ship buzzed with activity.
Galen hastened down the rope ladder, shaking a little as he went. Many sailors passed him on their way to reset the sails for the new heading. Once he reached the deck, the Narnian made for the quarterdeck, where he could see Lyra standing beside Captain Torin, who had just arrived on the quarterdeck.
"Ah, Galen, there you are," Lyra greeted.
"What does it mean, my lady?" The Narnian inquired.
"It means a ship is on fire, good sir," replied his friend.
"And there are usually only a few reasons for a ship fire," Commander Randolph added without looking away from his spyglass. "Someone was careless, or —more likely in these waters — battle awaits."
"Time to intercept?" Captain Torin asked the navigator.
"With this fine wind, we are making about ten knots. I'd put us in range within three-quarters of an hour."
"Very well," the Captain nodded.
"Colonel Grey!" Commander Randolph called presently. The Archen marine responded instantly. "Within an hour we will find ourselves engaged either in rescue or battle. Make your marines ready."
With a nod, Lyra's uncle acknowledged and began to muster his men. Soon, the rattle of arrows in quivers and the stringing of bows could be heard.
"Commander Randolph," the Captain addressed, "I want to know the moment you can make out the situation."
"Aye, sir," answered the dark-haired officer without looking up from his spyglass.
Lyra pulled Galen back towards the stern rail and handed him his bow and quiver. She already held her own bow in hand, and green fletchings peeked from behind her shoulder.
"Best to be prepared," the Archen princess smiled.
"Strike the Royal colors!" Captain Torin barked suddenly, and a sailor quickly jumped to do his bidding. Soon, only the Archen flag flew at the ship's stern, not the royal family's flag.
"No need to announce to whomever we are about to encounter that a member of the Archen monarchy is aboard," he noted. Turning to Lyra, he spoke gravely. "Your highness, you are, of course, welcome to remain on deck for the time being, but I must beg your indulgence and ask that, if the time comes, you heed my instruction to go below deck. My men and I will defend the ship, but I would not run the risk of an errant arrow striking you."
"Very well, Captain," Lyra inclined her head.
"My thanks," he bowed. The Archen mariner turned now to Galen. "Sir, I would ask also that if I must give such an instruction, you will accompany the princess below deck. Do not leave her side, for I cannot predict what we may encounter."
"You have my word, Captain," Galen answered solemnly.
The captain nodded his thanks and returned to his first-mate's side.
As the minutes crawled by, the plume of smoke grew steadily closer.
"I can make it out now, captain," Commander Randolph spoke, peering through the glass at his hand. "It is a two-masted merchantman, foremast broken below the second spar. What sails remain are engulfed in flames, and she looks to be taking on water."
"Can you make out a flag?"
"Aye, sir! It's an Archen vessel!" The first officer responded.
A murmur ran through the officers nearby.
"Can you make out her name, sir?" Lieutenant Commander Barstowe questioned.
"Nay," the first-mate answered, "her stern is engulfed in smoke."
"Lieutenant Durand," the Captain addressed the navigator, "what do you make our range?"
"About two miles, sir."
"Barstowe, any other ships in view?"
"Standby, sir," the second-mate answered, taking a few steps towards the steps to the deck. "Report from the fighting-top!" The young officer bellowed with impressive volume. "Any other ships in visual range?"
"Aye, sir!" One of the sailors at the top responded. "A light frigate sails away from us three miles off the port bow—I make it zero-eight-five degrees."
"Flags!" Barstowe called back.
"None visible, sir!"
The second-mate returned to his captain and repeated the report. The first-mate and the captain exchanged a knowing glance.
"What does it mean?" Galen asked no one in particular.
"Pirates, most likely," Randolph scoffed.
"Helmsman, continue to make for the merchantman," the captain commanded. Turning to Commander Randolph, the captain spoke softly, "This may be a ploy to ambush us. Oversee the rescue and ensure it is completed as swiftly as possible."
"Aye sir," the first-mate answered and moved toward the deck.
"And Jim," the captain addressed his second in command by his first name, "be wary."
A knowing smile flashed in the first-mate's eye as he nodded his assent and descended to the deck to begin assembling a rescue party.
"Colonel Grey," the Captain called the Archen marine, who answered swiftly. "Keep your men at the ready. I like not the feel of this."
"Aye, sir," Grey answered, returning to his men and bidding them keep arrows on the string.
"Stand ready to shiver all sail!" Torin ordered as the ship closed to within half a mile of the flaming merchantman. In response, a swarm of additional sailors climbed aloft, murmurs of voices floating from the rigging as they put themselves in position.
The Jewel approached within a quarter mile.
"Shiver all sail!" The captain bellowed. The rigging erupted in the sound of wood creaking and men straining as every sail was moved parallel to the direction of the wind. As a result, the ship's speed immediately began to slow, now propelled forward only by the staysails and jibs. At the same time, Randolph gave the order to launch boats. The men lowered two boats to the surface, Commander Randolph standing in the bow of the first, his hand resting on his sword hilt.
"Make our course zero-seven-zero," Torin ordered, directing the ship's now-slow progress around the flaming hulk. Turning to the second-mate, he added, "Keep an eye on that frigate, Tom."
Barstowe nodded and hastened toward the bow, scooping up a spyglass on his way.
A shout rose from the merchantman and several splashes could be heard as survivors swam towards the Jewel's boats. Galen and Lyra leaned on the port rail to see the rescue better. The Jewel was now about an eighth of a mile away and maintaining that distance.
Within a few minutes, the merchantman began to list sharply to starboard, then slipped under the waves in a hiss of steam as the ocean water put out the fire. Randolph and his men secured the rest of the survivors in the boats and rowed back towards the Jewel.
"Captain!" Barstowe called sharply from the bow, running back towards the quarterdeck, "the frigate is turning about! She may mean to fight us."
"I thought so," the captain muttered under his breath, resting a hand on his sword. "Range?" He asked aloud.
"I make it two miles at zero-six-zero degrees, sir."
"Get those boats on board!"
"Aye, sir!" Several voices acknowledged.
"Prepare to make sail on a heading of zero-seven-five! Hold sail until my order!" Captain Torin paced the bridge now.
Galen marveled at the captain's skill and presence. His sailors snapped to his orders with practiced ease, exhibiting anticipation rather than fear.
"Lieutenant Trevelyan!"
"Captain?"
"Are we clear to engage the frigate?"
"Aye, captain. We are in international waters defending a ship of our own flag. And if the ship is confirmed to be manned by pirates, we can engage the brigands even if they do not take any offensive action."
The captain nodded and resumed pacing the quarterdeck.
"Stewart!" He called to the ship's tactical officer. "What do you make of that frigate?"
"She looks Terebinthian by her rig, sir, but her handling isn't quite right."
Intrigued, the captain picked up his own spyglass and observed the frigate for a moment.
"Aye," he agreed with the lieutenant. "No Terebinthians are manning that vessel."
Five minutes later, the boats had been hauled aboard and seven bedraggled merchant sailors stood on deck beside Commander Randolph.
"All hands make sail!" Came the Captain's order. At once, with a great many creaks, the shivered sails were righted perpendicular to the wind, the helmsman turned the rudder sharply, and Galen started as the Jewel made a swift jump ahead. Quickly she started to gain on the frigate's leeward side.
"Run out the crossbows!"
The captain's order was relayed below deck, and the Narnian jumped as a series of dull thuds sounded from beneath the deck as the porthole covers were slammed open.
"The heavy crossbows on the deck below now have a clear field of fire," Lyra explained to her landsman friend.
"Commander Randolph, we have about five minutes until we intercept that frigate," the Archen captain rested on the quarterdeck railing and looked down to the main deck. "Now, what happened to the merchantman?"
"Pirates, as we suspected, captain," the tall Archen sailor answered.
"Of what vessel be ye?" Torin addressed the bedraggled sailors.
"The Adelaide, sir!" A grizzled old sailor in a dripping red cap responded with a slight bow. "We were three days out of Terebinthia when the unflagged frigate yonder overtook us," the sailor paused for breath, drawing a soot-stained hand against his brow.
Lyra stepped down the stairs to the deck, Galen at her heels.
"You are among friends," the princess spoke kindly. "Take a breath and tell us what happened."
All the sailors ducked their heads in respect as the princess approached, keeping their eyes lowered to the deck.
"We couldn't put up much of a fight, milady," the grizzled sailor ducked his head again. "The pirates swarmed the deck, killed our captain, forced us to unload the cargo, and then they just left us there after knocking holes in the hull and setting the sails ablaze. Poor old Adelaide," the sailor finished remorsefully.
"You have my sympathies," Lyra responded gently.
"Thank'ee, milady," he ducked his head yet again.
As she spoke, Galen glanced at the other sailors. Many of them had sustained burns. One, though, had a malevolent spark in his dark eyes and did not seem injured. Just as Galen noticed, the sailor in question lunged for the princess, a curved knife in his hand.
"Lyra!" The Narnian shouted involuntarily, pushing his friend away from the threat and onto the deck. Simultaneously, Commander Randolph's quick sword put a permanent end to the assassin's nefarious plans.
"Are you alright, my lady?" Galen asked, helping Lyra up from where she had fallen. She nodded in return, brushing herself off.
"Closing on the frigate, sir!" Barstowe's voice rang from the bow.
"Archers to the ready! Reef the courses!" Captain Torin shouted, and the sailors snapped to secure the bottom-most sails on the fore and main masts so they would not be in the way during battle. "To the brig with them," Torin motioned to the survivors. "We will determine friend from foe when this is over."
Finally, the captain pointed at Galen, a flash in his silver-blue eyes. "Get the princess below deck and stay there. Do you understand? They want her, not any plunder."
Without a word, Galen and Lyra hastened down the stair to her cabin. As they went, they could hear junior officers relaying the captain's orders to the bowmaster along the bow deck. As they ducked into the princess's cabin, they heard the order to fire. At once, the deafening hum of twenty heavy bowstrings made the air tremble, followed by the great swish of the giant bolts leaving their bows. Galen bolted and barred the cabin door behind them, and just as he finished, the two could hear the far-off, sickening thud of the stout leaden heads striking the pirate frigate's hull. Shortly thereafter, a volley of arrows from the longbows of the Archen marines followed, and screams rent the air from across the water.
Slowly Galen moved away from the door, absentmindedly clutching at his left arm.
"Galen, you're wounded!" Lyra exclaimed, eyes full of concern.
"What?" Her friend puzzled, then look down to realize that his shirt sleeve was slashed and stained with blood. "Oh." The young Narnian suddenly felt lightheaded and became aware of a stinging sensation in his left arm.
"Here, sit down," Lyra guided him to the bunk. He did not protest. "I have my kit with me." She rummaged around in the nearby cabinet for a moment, then tossed him a cloth. "Keep pressure on it."
Momentarily, the spinning sensation left Galen's head and he followed her instructions.
At that moment, they felt an impact on the hull and an enormous thud reverberated through the cabin.
"What on earth?" Galen exclaimed, jumping up.
"Looks like that frigate has some teeth of its own." She remarked grimly. "It doesn't sound like it compromised the hull, though. Sit back down."
Galen obeyed, and the Archen princess promptly set to cleaning and bandaging the wound from the assassin's knife.
"It doesn't look too bad," she remarked.
"Aye, my lady," Galen agreed. "I don't think he was aiming for me."
Lyra finished tying the bandage and met the Narnian's eye.
"Thank you," she spoke simply. He nodded in return.
At that moment, something bumped in the locker beside the bunk. Both friends started. Galen jumped off the bunk in a trice, drawing his dirk from his boot and placing his hand on the locker handle. In one swift motion, he yanked it open and brandished the dirk. A muffled, feminine scream could be heard.
"Eloise?" Lyra pushed past Galen. "What were you doing in there?"
The princess's maidservant stumbled out of the locker, discheveled and frightened.
"Oh, my lady," the older woman trembled with fright.
The Archen princess embraced her lightly. "I'm sorry, Eloise. It's alright. Here, sit down. Don't worry," she said with an encouraging smile.
They could hear muffled shouts from the deck. Looking up at the windows, Galen noticed smoke waft past the window.
On deck, Commander Randolph had given the order for fire crews to extinguish the flames that had caught the gaff sail. The Archen crossbows' volleys had succeeded in damaging the pirate frigate's hull, and it had begun to list slightly to the starboard.
"Jim," Torin addressed his first-mate without taking his eyes from the enemy frigate, "bring me back their captain, please."
"With pleasure, sir," the bearded Archen sailor's bright blue eyes sparkled. Randolph leaped from the quarterdeck and mustered a platoon of marines to his side. In a twinkling, the boarding party had taken one of the boats still secured to the rail from the rescue effort, returned it to the sea and made quick time to the other vessel.
"Archers, let's see how well these brigands like their own medicine," the captain gestured to the last bits of flame eating the center of the charred gaff-sail.
At once, the archers reached for specially-crafted arrows designed to hold a flame and lit them at lanterns. The volley that followed set sails on each of the frigate's masts ablaze, and in the confusion the pirate crew did not notice Randolph's boarding party, which reached the frigate's side and tossed ropes headed with heavy iron grappling hooks onto the deck. In a flash, the Archenlanders climbed aboard.
"Keep enough distance that those embers don't fly back at us!" Torin cautioned the helmsman.
"She's making a run for it!" Barstowe's voice could be heard over the din, and surely enough, the frigate could be seen trying to make sail away from the Archen warship. However, the Captain had expertly placed the Jewel in the frigate's path of escape. The pirate ship had no choice but to limp away on a heading that could not take full advantage of the wind.
"Pursue her!" Came the Captain's reply.
"Ware arrows!" One of the marine sergeants shouted. At once, Archen shields flew up and deflected a volley of crude, iron-headed arrows that came flying from the other ship.
"I need a medic here!"
"Get the wounded below deck!" Captain Torin's voice was steady, his eye never wavering from the fleeing frigate. Across the expanse of ocean separating them, he could see his second in command fending off the unmistakable curve of a scimitar. The captain's jaw tightened.
"Another volley of lead weights!"
"Aye, sir!" Another whistle command followed, and after a pause the Jewel's bowmen on the deck below let loose a final barrage of heavy bolts.
As the volley of lead-weight bolts struck the pirate frigate, they punched a half-dozen holes in its shoddily-built hull. The shuddering impact gave Commander Randolph and his men the moment they needed. While the marines made quick work of the pirates who resisted, Randolph took advantage of the impact to duck under pirate first-mate's scimitar, running the man through just as one of the spars crashed, flaming, onto the deck. The ship could be felt severely listing to the starboard now.
"Oh, no you don't!" Randolph ran after the pirate captain, a Terebinthian man distinguished by the gold chain at his throat, who was trying to leap over the side to one of his own boats. Seizing the captain by one arm, the Archen officer threw him down to the deck. Strangely, there was no sign of the remaining pirate crew.
"Bind his hands and get him back to the boat! Let's get out of here," Randolph ordered as he returned his sword to its scabbard. The Archen marines hastened to obey his orders, and in short order the Archenlanders' boat sped back to the Jewel.
Below deck, Lyra paced to and fro in her cabin.
"I little like sitting here useless during a battle," she fumed, her hand grasping her sword-hilt unconsciously. Her Narnian friend stood to the side of the window, cracking it open slightly and looking to the water below the stern.
"'As do I, my friend," Galen commiserated. "But the Captain is right. The pirate frigate baited us to get to you."
"What pirates even knew I was aboard?" The Archen princess fumed further.
"Our sailing was no secret. Surely Calormen would pay a pretty price for such a service."
"Aye, I suppose," the princess sighed.
"Allow them the honor of defending you, my lady," Galen softly counseled. Lyra did not reply, but neither did she protest his counsel.
Suddenly, movement on the ocean's surface below drew the Narnian's attention. Two rowboats full of scraggly sailors made quick strokes towards the Jewel's stern.
"What is it?" Lyra joined him at the window in a twinkling. Without a word, the young knight nodded towards the boats.
"Those aren't our men," her eyes narrowed, and swiftly she set an arrow to her bowstring. "Can you still draw a bow, friend?"
"Aye, I can try," was the Narnian's reply, likewise nocking an arrow to the string.
"She's going down!" Barstowe's voice echoed from the bow again.
"Report on our men!" The Captain responded.
"They're almost back to the ship!" The sailor in the fighting top shouted down.
"Very well. Secure the crossbows and see to the wounded!"
Just as Randolph and his party hauled themselves aboard, several shouts echoed from behind the stern. Captain Torin and several other officers hastened to look over the rail from the quarterdeck. Several rowboats on the surface had nearly reached the Jewel, but arrows rained down on them from the deck below.
"Well, men, don't just gape! Let fly a volley!" Torin ordered. Promptly, several archers hastened to the stern and added their arrows to those of Lyra and Galen. One of the boats slowed as its rowers no longer had the ability to propel it, but the other hid itself beside the Jewel out of the archers' range.
"All hands make sail! Heading zero-six-five," Captain Torin bellowed. A chorus of " ayes" followed and the Jewel began to move away from the scene of battle just as the pirate ship dipped forever beneath the waves. Looking back to the stern, Torin noted with satisfaction that both rowboats were left hopelessly behind in the ship's wake.
"Secure from battle stations," the Archen captain ordered. "Commander MacLeod!" He addressed the Jewel's chief engineering officer, "I want a damage report within the hour. Ensign Donovan, see to it that our passengers are informed it is safe to return above deck."
The young Archen officer nodded to his captain and ducked below deck.
In a few moments, Galen and Lyra returned to the quarterdeck. Slowly, the ship began to return to its ordinary operations.
"Your highness," the captain bowed slightly, "I take it I have you and your companion to thank for dispatching the boats at the stern?"
"'Twas our pleasure, captain," the Archen princess answered. "How fares the Jewel?"
"She's a hardy ship, my lady. I can't say the same for the pirate frigate," the captain answered with a slight smile. "I thought you would want to be present for our next order of business," he stepped down the stairs from the quarterdeck and stood across from his first officer in the middle of the ship. The Archen captain fixed a steady blue-grey eye on the pirate captain, whom Commander Randolph had deposited on his knees before Captain Torin. Randolph continued to keep a watchful eye on the pirate, disdain evident in the Ramstowne-native's eyes and his hand resting on his sword hilt.
"Who sent you?" Captain Torin went straight for the point. The pirate captain merely laughed, his eyes wandering past the Archenlander to glance at Lyra with a lustful sheen in his dark brown eye.
Immediately, Commander Randolph's sword flashed out of its scabbard and sat at the base of the pirate's throat.
"You'd best keep your eyes to yourself, if you value your life," he growled.
"You think I'm the only one lookin' for 'er?" Again the pirate chuckled.
"You're no Calormene," Torin sized up the wretched man before him with a critical eye. "What is a Terebinthian pirate doing with Calormenes in his crew?"
"Some opportunities can't be passed up," he answered cryptically, and again his eyes wandered towards Lyra, but this time they gazed past her to the stair from the deck below. He smirked.
At that moment, a bloodcurdling battle cry came from behind the princess. This time, she was not caught unawares. In a flash, the princess drew her own sword, ducked under the scimitar of the man on the stair, and ran him through. In the confusion, the pirate captain surged up, a concealed knife aimed at Captain Torin's throat. Commander Randolph's blade did not allow him to go far.
"He must have climbed up the stern," the princess breathlessly exclaimed, "and in through a window..." she trailed off, her eyes widening. "Eloise!" Lyra bolted down the stairs.
"Wait, Lyra! There may be more!" The Narnian cautioned to no avail.
"Search the ship for intruders!" Randolph bellowed, and Colonel Grey's men began to do so without hesitation.
Galen hurried down the stairs, his sword drawn, and found Lyra kneeling on the floor of her cabin. The maid's crumpled form lay before her, a streak of blood matting the light brown hair along her temple.
"Get a medic! Quickly!" Lyra's voice wavered. Galen turned to the cabin door and called for a medic, but neither sheathed his sword nor left the princess's presence.
In a few moments, Lieutenant Payne joined his sovereign at the maid's side. He considered the maid's injury a moment.
"It looks like she got a nasty bump on the head, my lady, but I think she'll be alright," the young officer briefly rested a comforting hand on Lyra's shoulder. "We'd best get her to sickbay, though." Payne stepped to the door and called a couple of sailors to help him. Presently, they carried the maid gently down the corridor to sickbay.
Only after Colonel Grey and his marines reported back that the ship was secure did Captain Torin take an easy breath and Galen return his sword to its scabbard.
"Get those pirates off my ship," Torin ordered brusquely, turning on his heel to return to the bridge. Commander Randolph ordered the pirate captain and the two assassins' bodies be thrown overboard. As the sailors were about to toss the lifeless captain over the rail, Randolph called them to wait. He had spotted a corner of parchment peeking out from the pirate's belt. Once he removed it, he nodded for them to continue.
"Captain!" Randolph exclaimed after unfolding it, "this may provide some explanation." The first-mate joined the captain on the bridge and smoothed the parchment out on the navigation table.
"What is it, Captain?" Lyra inquired, joining them on the quarterdeck with Galen at her side.
"A commission from the Calormen naval minister," Torin answered grimly. "That captain was a privateer—a pirate commissioned by the Calormene government to target Archen ships. A bonus would go to any that killed or captured you, my lady."
Lyra blanched slightly.
"We should have care upon landing in Terebinthia," the Captain continued. "This will not be the only time we encounter such brigands."
Some hours later, after the sun had long set, Galen sat in the bow staring at the stars, as he had done almost every night since boarding the Archen vessel. A steady westerly wind pressed the Jewel on towards Terebinthia. Presently, Lyra joined him.
"How fares Eloise, my lady?" The Narnian inquired.
"She will be well with rest," Lyra smiled. "Thank you for asking."
"I am glad to hear it," the young knight responded. "What of the men? Did any perish in the battle?"
"Nay, thank the Lion," Lyra sat opposite her friend, "a few arrow wounds and burns, but no more serious casualties."
"That is well. Captain Torin is most skillful at his command."
"Aye," the Archen princess replied. "He is one of the best in the Archen navy."
"I can well believe it," Galen smiled.
"How is your arm, my friend?"
"Oh, a little sore, but not bad," the Narnian answered.
"Good." Lyra smiled and leaned back against the railing.
"How fare you, my friend?" The young knight spoke after a moment.
"I am well, Galen," the Archenlander answered, then paused as she looked towards the stars herself. "I knew we could expect some kind of villainy from the Calormenes on this voyage, but I did not expect it quite so soon."
"Indeed," Galen agreed, leaning back as well.
Lyra sighed contentedly. "We'll be in Terebinthia the day after next. In some ways, it is comforting to know the sort of villainy to expect from now on."
"Aye," Galen chuckled.
In the silence that followed, the two friends were content to watch the bright stars in their nimble dance overhead.
Authoress's Note: Many thanks for reading! I can't promise my next update will be quite so prompt as this one. Making up for a few years of writer's block, I suppose! If you would care to drop a review, I'd be ever so grateful!
I wish you all a very happy new year!