Authoress's Note: Apologies for the delay, dear readers, and for the following modifications to shipboard terminology. Upon better research, future chapters will refer to the officers' mess as the wardroom, and the stern deck or poop deck as the quarterdeck. I will go back and revise previous chapters accordingly. Many thanks for your grace. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter the Fortieth: King Gale and the Dragon
30 Fairdawn 2076
The Jewel's bell brightly rang the nine-o'clock-hour (by landsmen's reckoning) on the sunny second morning after the tournament. Lyra and her party were in the process of boarding the ship amid the excited clamor of the Redhaven children who gathered on the dock to farewell their beloved Archen friend and her valiant champion. The sailors and marines bustled to and fro as the ship prepared to sail.
"Welcome back!" One of the marines hailed and clapped the shoulder of his friend, one of the marines in the princess's guard, as the latter returned with his fellows to the marines' quarters below deck.
"Any news?" Another off-duty marine asked the newcomers eagerly, and the crowded space immediately stilled to hear the response.
"Oh, indeed!"
"Indeed, what?" Pressed another. "Speak, man!"
"They've professed their love, and—"
"Yes, yes," his companions prodded impatiently.
"And," the first continued deliberately, "sealed it with a truly lovely kiss."
"Huzzah!" An excited cheer went up.
"At last!" Another marine rolled his eyes. "That was ages overdue."
"Details, man, details!" An impatient marine insisted.
"A tournament victory and a bit of moonlight will do the trick every time," a corporal winked in reply, and laughter filled the room again.
"What news from the ship?"
"A fleet arrived yesterday afternoon to join us," the corporal's ship-board counterpart answered.
"A fleet? Which ships?"
"Two brigs-of-war and a sloop. The sloop is Huntress. I don't know the others."
"So, Cap'n is a commodore now! Very well indeed," one of the princess's guard responded proudly as he hung his sword on its rack. "I warrant we'll have some more adventures ahead of us if they've given Cap'n a fleet."
His companions nodded sagely as the sounds of disembarkation preparations continued from overhead.
Early in the afternoon, the Jewel of Archenland glided from Redhaven harbor before a freshening Westerly wind. Galen stood with his lady at the stern rail, watching wistfully as the graceful castle towers faded into the mountain's towering slopes. Beside him, the princess sighed contentedly and rested a hand on his.
"It feels good to have the sea under us again," she smiled, looking to the horizon. "I almost forgot that we are on a great adventure."
"Indeed, my lady," Galen returned her smile. "And it looks as though we do not sail alone," he glanced to the north and south, where the graceful lines of the smaller warships broke the blue of the sky and sea.
Once the ships settled on their courses, Captain Torin hoisted a signal that would call the other ship captains to conference on the Jewel. At Torin's invitation, Galen and Lyra waited in the wardroom. The mid-afternoon sun sparkled on the bright white paneling as Torin escorted the other captains into the room.
"Your highness, may I present Captain Allen of his majesty's brig-of-war Spearhead, Captain Williams of his majesty's brig-of-war Valiant, and Captain Scott of his majesty's sloop-of-war Huntress," Captain Torin spoke in his characteristically subdued tones, and each officer bowed in his turn.
"A pleasure, gentlemen," Lyra returned warmly, acknowledging them with a nod. "Please be seated."
Galen observed the newcomers with interest. These comparatively young ship captains seemed ill at ease at the thought of sitting in their sovereign's presence. He noticed Captain Torin smile slightly as he took his seat. His juniors reluctantly followed his example.
"Your highness," Captain Torin began by deliberately handing the princess a letter, "Captain Allen brought orders with him from His Majesty. In addition to placing the Spearhead, Valiant, and Huntress under my command as commodore, they directed me to convey this letter to you and to request you read it in our presence."
With a nod, Lyra accepted the letter and broke the royal seal impressed upon it.
Lorn, King of Archenland and commander-in-chief of the Archen Royal Navy, in view of the past and future exigencies associated with the present diplomatic mission to the Eastern islands, hereby delegates authority to Lyra, Princess of Archenland, to issue such naval orders as she deems necessary in the course of Her Highness's voyage and mission. Therefore, His Majesty, together with the Admiralty of the Archen Royal Navy, hereby requests and requires the commanding officers of His Majesties ships Jewel of Archenland, Spearhead, Valiant, and Huntress, to accept the orders of Her Highness as though they were His Majesty's own. Should Her Highness determine that necessity so requires, such other vessels of the Archen Royal Navy or the Archen Merchant Marine are hereby requested and required to follow Her Highness's orders likewise in accordance with the Maritime Code.
Signed this Eighteenth Day of Fairdawn 2076.
A heavy pause filled the room as Lyra re-folded the paper.
"We are doubly at your service, then, your highness," Captain Allen bowed in his seat.
"Begging your highness's pardon," Captain Scott spoke, his bold and decisive nature overcoming his reserve in his sovereign's presence, "I take it this is no ordinary voyage."
"No, indeed, Captain," Lyra returned his gaze evenly. "At present the Calormenes hold a price on my head and grant letters of marque to pirates willing to harass Archen merchantmen. And in future, who can say what else this voyage will entail?"
1 Greenroof 2076
The third morning after the tournament found the Jewel of Archenland under full sail to the southeast of Redhaven. From where he stood on the quarterdeck by the stern railing, Galen could make out the other ships' sails on the horizon to the North and South.
"Signal the fleet for course change— south south east bearing 160 degrees," Galen overheard the second officer instruct a nearby ensign. In a moment, a row of brightly colored bunting ran up the foremast halliard.
"All ships acknowledge, sir," the ensign reported after a few moments.
"Very well," Lieutenant Commander Barstowe answered, then turned his attention to giving the appropriate orders to bring the Jewel on the same course.
As the hands passed to and fro to bring the ship onto its new heading, Galen noticed a few sailors smirking in his direction. Puzzled, the Narnian turned to the Archen officer beside him.
"Commander, why are the sailors looking at me like that?" Galen asked in hushed tones. "They've been doing it all morning."
"Ah, well," Barstowe smiled slyly, "I'm sure you can imagine that gossip spreads quickly in a ship at sea. Marines aren't known for their discretion."
Galen reddened slightly, and the Archen officer laughed.
"They're only happy for you and the princess. Surely you cannot think your companionship was unobserved?" Barstowe was almost smirking himself now. "Although I suggest that you wouldn't be long for this world if you were to betray her," he joked lightly as he moved off to attend his duties.
The Narnian knight returned his eyes to the sea with a good deal less comfort.
3 Greenroof 2076
The days passed uneventfully as the Archen ships sailed circuitously toward the Lone Islands. Commodore Torin continued to avoid regular shipping courses. Huntress scouted ahead of the fleet, while Spearhead and Valiant kept vigilant watch on the Jewel's flanks.
"What tune do you play today, my friend?" The princess's voice rang clearly in the late afternoon air. The young Narnian was sitting cross-legged in the bow, so engrossed in his music that he had not heard his lady's approach. The clear notes carried adventure with them, she thought.
"'Tis the Ballad of King Gale and the Dragon," he returned her smile and invited her to join him.
"Ah, the Narnian king who won the Lone Islands for Narnia's flag by defeating a fearsome dragon?"
"Aye, my lady," Galen answered. "It seemed fitting. We ourselves are bound for the Lone Islands on a grand adventure."
"The story must have been a favorite with your parents," Lyra looked at him with a thoughtful twinkle in her eyes.
"Very true," the young knight laughed, "They did indeed name me for Narnia's legendary dragon-slayer. A challenging name to live up to, I fear!"
"Does this ballad you play have words?" The mischievous twinkle persisted.
"All ballads have words, of course, but I think we are all served best if my flute does my singing," Galen blushed.
"I don't know if I believe you, sir," Lyra teased, "but very well for now."
The friends sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying the afternoon sunshine.
"What are the Lone Islands like?" Galen asked after a while.
"Well," Lyra began, "Avra and Felimath are farmland mostly. Narrowhaven is a small city, generally in poor repair. The governor keeps a castle and a small garrison."
"Do Telmarine soldiers staff that garrison?" The Narnian's voice grew sharp.
"Oh, no. Telmarines have no fondness for the sea, as you know. The Lone Islands' governor hides behind the Narnian flag to keep out of the Tisroc's clutches, but for all practical purposes the Islands might as well be independent."
Galen nodded, digesting the information without speaking.
"Even so," he spoke at last, "it is a little bit of home."
6 Greenroof 2076
The seventh evening out of Redhaven found the Jewel's senior officers, the three other ships' captains, and Galen assembled in the wardroom wearing their finest in response to an unusually formal dinner invitation from the Commodore. As Lyra joined them, the Archen princess noted her companions' mischievous glances with good-natured suspicion; the Jewel's commander had not alluded to the occasion in his invitation to her. This tenuous peace lasted through a pleasant dinner, but when the mess mates served her favorite dessert, she could bear it no longer.
"Commodore," she addressed Torin with a raised eyebrow, "to what do we owe this occasion? I'm not aware of this day bearing any remarkable significance."
Several officers suppressed chuckles under coughs, and the weathered Archen captain's pale blue eyes laughed as he smiled broadly.
"Their Majesty's orders, your highness," he answered, lifting his glass. "We wish you many happy returns, dear lady, on this your twentieth birthday."
At last, the other officers and Galen could smile freely.
"Many happy returns!" They echoed, raising their glasses enthusiastically.
"Thank you all," the reluctant princess responded, smiling despite herself. "But this is most unnecessary."
"We won't hear another protest, my lady," Galen impishly retorted. "This evening is young."
And so it was—with a bow and a wink, her Narnian friend led her to the quarterdeck after the meal, the officers close behind. Many lanterns washed the deck in warm light, and colorful ribbons fluttered across the lowest spars. The entire crew assembled on the main deck, and they had evidently been busy while their officers kept the princess occupied at dinner. Despite her protests and blushing cheeks, she could not help but be touched by their kindness.
"If you would be seated, your highness," Torin indicated a few chairs set out on the quarterdeck, "the finest musicians among the fleet's crews have prepared a program."
At his commanding officer's nod, the Jewel's chief sailmaker stepped forward. In short order, several fiddlers and pipers bowed in their turns and began to play, and the ship's deck came alive in song. In the course of the evening, four sailors proved themselves the championship jig dancing team of the fleet, and a clear-voiced young topman reduced them to tears with a poignant ballad. Galen added his skillful flute, playing the tune he learned from the Muil troubadours. By the time the evening wound to its close, the princess had devised her retribution.
"Gentlemen," Lyra stood at last, "I thank you all for the most pleasant of evenings and happiest of birthdays. You are all most kind."
The sailors murmured and bowed in response.
"But I need your help to complete this evening properly," a nefarious glint lit her eyes as she continued. "Sir Galen has regaled us all with his skillful playing, but he has thus far refused to lend us his voice. Perhaps you could convince him to share with us the adventures of King Gale and the Dragon?"
She barely finished before the Jewel's sailors obliged her with shouts and applause. Thus cornered, Galen shot Lyra a wry glance and stood in resignation.
"As you wish, your highness," he bowed stiffly, "but I make no promises as to its quality."
A hush fell upon the ship's company, equally ready to taunt or to applaud. The Narnian took a deep breath and began to sing. From the first notes, Lyra and all the ship's company laughed at the young knight's unwarranted modesty. His rich baritone carried well the thrilling ballad of the valiant king's battle with the fearsome dragon. A fiddler picked up the tune after a moment, and soon many hands kept the beat as the ship glided on under the stars.
"You've hidden your voice far too long, my friend!" Lyra admonished later as the Narnian escorted her to her cabin at the evening's conclusion. "Thank you for obliging me," she smiled warmly. "It was a lovely birthday present."
"You are most welcome, my lady," he smiled in return, "but I believe you will find my gift on your desk."
"Galen, what did you do?" Her eyes lit in anticipation as she glanced up at him, then ducked through the hatch he held open for her. She did not notice the fond smile that lingered on her knight's face as he followed. On the desk, she found a fading tundra rose from the Seven Isles next to a small velvet bag. With wondering eyes, she tugged the drawstring open.
"Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed as she removed a small framed painting. "How did you have this made?"
"Do you remember the day we went with Prince Robin to the fair? A young artist noticed us and captured this moment on his own initiative. He approached me later while you were in council with the king." Galen paused, looking at the little painting. In it, the Narnian knight looked to his lady with the same tender smile that had graced his countenance a moment before, while she, her hand resting on his arm, gazed back with her signature combination of warmth, serenity, and resolve. Galen slipped an arm around his lady, and she returned his embrace.
"I think it captures well that I love you, Lyra," he spoke softly and kissed the top of her head. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you," her simple words carried great warmth at his touching gesture, and she continued to rest contentedly against her knight's shoulder.
For some time, they stood thus and watched in companionable silence as the moon shone on the ship's frothy wake.
9 Greenroof 2076
As the sun set on the tenth day out of Redhaven, the Huntress signaled land to the southeast. The soft green hills of Felimath slowly appeared on the horizon in the last golden rays of sunlight. As the fleet closed ranks in anticipation of approaching the Narrowhaven straits, the three other ships' captains joined Commodore Torin, Galen, and Lyra for dinner at the princess's request.
"Gentlemen," she addressed the three captains as they finished eating and began to sip their coffee, "the time has come for me to explain to you the true object of my diplomatic mission." She paused, glancing at Galen and Torin. "As the Commodore is already aware, Aslan Himself appeared to my Narnian comrade and I before we sailed. He entrusted us with a solemn mission in the East, beyond the Lone Islands."
The three officers, imperturbable in battle, stared at the princess in disbelief.
"Therefore," she continued, "I intend to depart the Lone Islands as soon as courtesy allows—two or three days at most—and make sail to explore the uncharted waters between the Lone Islands and Aslan's Country."
"Although the Spearhead, Valiant, and Huntress will take turns patrolling the straits, each of you must make the most of the opportunity to resupply. Resupply as full as your ships will take," Commodore Torin added.
"And I must further impose upon you, my friends, for your word that you will keep this information secret," Lyra continued. "The Calormenes pursue me, and they must believe that I and all our company are lost at sea—not only for the good of our mission but for the peace of Archenland until we return."
Silence filled the wardroom but for the ever-present creaking of the ship's timbers and rigging. Then, all three captains began to speak at once. Captain Scott proved the most coherent.
"Your highness, what mission could this possibly be?" He wondered.
"As for myself, Aslan spoke of a dangerous enemy to Archenland—one that we, by His grace, will have the opportunity to stop," his sovereign answered. "But the primary mission is Sir Galen's," she glanced to her friend, who paused before replying.
"Begging your pardon, gentlemen, it is not yet necessary for you to know what mission I have in the East. Trust, however, that it is of extreme importance."
"Your pardon, my lady," Captain Allen interposed, "We have all heard the reports of this Narnian knight who destroyed the Stone Knife even though he swore to protect it. How can we trust that this rash quest is not the result of the same madness?"
Galen's cheeks colored, but he took the question in stride, checking the Commodore's chiding glare at his junior.
"I understand your reluctance, Captain," the Narnian answered, "but I assure you this quest is anything but rash. You know Commodore Torin, Princess Lyra," he nodded to each in turn, "You need not know or trust me if you know and trust them."
"Has Aslan showed you what course to take east of the Lone Islands?" Captain Williams inquired, breaking the tension.
"We know our destination. He will make the way there clear at the right time," Lyra answered. "Captains," her tone softened, "I know it is no simple thing we ask, but this may be the greatest adventure in Archen history. You are among the few who will have the honor of participating in it." Her eyes flashed eagerly as she continued. "Aslan would not send us on a fruitless quest. True, the way is not charted—so much the better!"
"We are your humble servants, your highness," Captain Scott stood and bowed. "It will be our honor indeed."
The Jewel anchored at Narrowhaven during the night, and as the dawn's pale light began to fall on the sleepy town, Galen watched from the quarterdeck rail. At the sight of the Narnian territory, his heart beat harder. He could just make out a castle on the ridge. Her flags streamed in the gentle breeze, and his breath caught as he saw them.
"What do you see, my friend?" Lyra's voice interrupted his reverie as she joined him at the rail. He looked at her with shining eyes and answered in a voice thick with emotion.
"The Lion," he pointed at one of the flags. "'Tis the Narnian Lion. I expected the Telmarine flag." The young knight took a deliberate breath and almost laughed—or cried—with indescribable joy. "I have never seen my own nation's flag fly."
The princess smiled and responded only by borrowing the telescope from the officer of the deck and handing it to her Narnian friend. He accepted it eagerly and could have stood forever peering through the telescope to see that green and red banner wave.
But at length, the customary diplomatic party disembarked. While each longboat rower's powerful strokes brought him closer to shore, the Narnian sat upright in sudden recollection. As Galen took his first steps on Doorn's green grass, he kneeled down and kissed the Narnian soil. He paused a moment, resting his hand on the ground still as he offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Then, he stood and joined the princess where the horses from the Archen consulate waited.
"It is an ancient Narnian custom, my lady," he answered Lyra's unspoken question. "No one remembers how it began, but it is only thus that a Narnian returns home."
11 Greenroof 2076
Two days later, the princess paced up and down the parlor of the Archen consulate. Her Narnian friend looked up from his book to observe her consternation with some amusement.
"Do the Lone Islanders make high quality carpets?"
Lyra stopped mid-pace and put a hand on her hip in exasperation. "What on earth kind of question is that?"
"An important one—I am trying to determine how long until you wear a hole in the rug," Galen teased.
"I won't wait that long," the Archen princess chuckled despite herself and resumed her pacing. "In all my life I've never seen such discourtesy," she fumed. "Two days frittered away and not so much as a 'welcome' from the governor."
"Why let it trouble you so?" Galen chuckled. "Surely you do not long for one of those dreadful diplomatic functions. By tomorrow evening the Jewel will be resupplied and ready to put to sea. We can go about our way without ever seeing this ill-mannered governor."
"I would like nothing better, but this silence bodes ill and our departure will seem unnatural," she worried. After a moment she stopped, rested a hand on her sword hilt, and met her knight's eye with resolve. "We will call on the governor this evening whether he wills it or not."
She turned to the doorway and called sharply for the nearest marine guard. He promptly entered and bowed.
"Inform Captain Anderson we ride for the governor's castle in two hours. Half-armor, if you please."
As the marine left in search of his captain, Galen closed his book and stood.
"I suppose I'd best find my armor, then, my lady," he glanced at her mischievously as he bowed, then hastened from the room.
At the appointed time, Lyra and her party rode from the consulate and began to ascend the winding roads up to the ridge. The late afternoon sun glinted on the marines' vambraces and pauldrons. The two at the head of the column held tall lances, from which fluttered the Archen flag and Lyra's pennant. Galen absorbed the Lone Islanders' stares as they passed by mossy stone walls and farmers pushing laden wheelbarrows.
"I haven't seen you in armor since the Telmarine attack. This governor has gravely erred," Galen noted with sly smile as he glanced at his lady, who indeed wore her cuirass, along with polished vambraces, over an Archen green dress that just brushed the ankles of her boots. She returned his smile with a raised, determined eyebrow.
Presently, the Archenlanders reached the crest of the hill and began to pass through the governor's fields. Gradually, Galen became aware of the growing noise of unsettled voices, then incoherent shouting. All at once, a shackled man in worn clothes burst over the low retaining wall beside the path.
"Get back here!" A taskmaster was hot upon his heels, but the man paid no heed.
"Mercy! Mercy, Princess Lyra!" He threw himself down before the lead marines' horses.
"Perimeter!" Captain Anderson commanded, and the marines immediately formed a circle around Lyra and Galen.
The taskmaster rushed forward, lash ready to strike, but the marines' sharp lances stopped him cold.
"Let him approach," the Archen princess ordered, and the marines parted enough for the shackled man to come through, though they kept their hands at their sword hilts.
"What mercy do you seek from me? I have no authority over the Lone Islands," Lyra addressed him, surveying him with a critical eye. His sunburned face looked up, pleading, as he sank to his knees before her horse. The ragged state of his worn shirt demonstrated the taskmaster's fondness for his whip.
"I am an Archen sailor, your highness, a carpenter's mate of the merchantman Lightfoot. A month ago pirates captured her in the waters off Morvarid. They killed our officers, but sold myself and the rest of the crew at a slave market in Tashbaan. The governor's steward bought many of us there. I beg you, help us. My wife, my children—," his voice trailed off as he looked despairingly at the heavy chains binding his wrists.
"You mean to tell me that the Governor of the Lone Islands is enslaving free Archenlanders to work his fields?" the princess's voice trembled with rage. Beside her, every man's darkened countenance demonstrated similar anger. A queasy knot settled in the Narnian's stomach.
"Not only the governor, your highness. Some of my fellow sailors were sent to Avra or Felimath to work in the fields of other lords."
"Small wonder he extended me no invitation," Lyra murmured, her knuckles white as they grasped her sword hilt. "Get the key to these shackles off that man!" She commanded harshly.
"This slave is the property of the governor! This is theft!" The taskmaster protested as a marine roughly searched him. Lyra drew her sword and leveled it at him.
"Be grateful I do not let the marines strangle you with your own whip," she hissed. The Lone Islander blanched and remained silent as the marine obtained the keys and removed the Archenlander's irons.
"How many other Archenlanders are enslaved in these fields?" Galen asked the sailor.
"About twenty, my lord, just over there," he pointed back in the direction he came. "I will gladly show you."
"Captain," the Archen princess immediately turned to the marine commander, "Take half your men and free our countrymen immediately. Return them to the consulate. The rest of the contingent will remain with me. We will not trouble the governor long tonight."
Captain Anderson nodded and helped the Archen sailor mount behind him, then swept over the low wall with ten mounted marines at his back. Lyra spurred her horse on to the castle gate, and Galen and the other marines followed, leaving the taskmaster behind and bewildered. They soon reached the dingy castle gate with its rusty portcullis. Ivy tendrils covered the weathered walls.
"Open at once for the princess of Archenland!" The marine sergeant bellowed as he pounded on the postern door beside the castle gate. Silence answered him, and at his sovereign's nod, he tried the doorknob. It was unlocked and unguarded.
"Some fortress," Galen rolled his eyes as they entered.
"I imagine that will change after tonight," Lyra smiled dangerously as she crossed the courtyard with quick strides. They entered the keep, then followed the corridor around a corner to the governor's council chamber. Raised voices filtered through the doors, but a guard slept soundly outside it. Suppressing a laugh, Lyra held a finger to her lips.
"Let's not wake the poor chap," she whispered insincerely. Two of the marines grasped the heavy door handles, and at her nod they pulled open the doors with a tremendous crash.
"Good evening, your sufficiency," the Archen princess strode confidently into the room, Galen and the marines close behind her. The governor and his councilors stopped mid-sentence, dumbfounded. "I came to inquire after your health, and we are pleased beyond measure to find you well," she spoke with a dangerous courtesy. "After hearing nothing in the two days since our arrival, I began to worry that you might be ill."
"I appreciate your highness's—ahem—solicitude," the governor stammered. "I'm sure you understand...pressing matters of state...perhaps you and your party might return tomorrow?" his voice trailed off. Galen surveyed him with a critical eye—his pinched voice ill-suited his corpulence, which ill-suited his rich attire.
"I understand, Governor Fineas," Lyra continued, "and I'm sure this delay could have nothing to do with the Archenland citizens you have enslaved in your fields."
What little air was left in the room departed, and the governor's councilors looked at him uneasily.
"Ahem," Fineas cleared his throat again, "I'm sure that my steward—ahem—could better discuss the workings of my manor—ahem."
"The Lone Islands must be much changed in recent years," she noted. "I did not know them previously to tolerate slave trading."
"Oh, no, there is no slave trading here, your highness, of course," one of the councilors interjected, and the governor took the time to regain his composure. "A distasteful business, indeed."
"I'm sure, ahem, it is not for me to tell my citizens how to dispose of property which they legally obtained abroad." The governor began to show his cunning at last. "Especially when our roads and schools so direly need the support of import taxes. Besides, as much as I enjoy discussing—ahem— internal economic policy with foreign dignitaries, I really do have more pressing matters to attend tonight, your highness, you see, so if you would excuse me—"
"Of course, your sufficiency," Lyra responded in cold, matter-of-fact tones, "I will leave you to your pressing affairs on this understanding—that you will deliver every enslaved Archenlander in the Lone Islands to the Archenland consulate by this time tomorrow." She crossed her arms and looked at the councilors. "That shouldn't be too difficult, given that the largest landowners of Avra and Felimath are in this room."
One of said landowners looked as though he would very much like the floor to swallow him up.
"And you needn't even worry about your own lands, governor. Your Archen captives are already under my protection."
All the Lone Islanders began to talk at once.
"You ask us to sustain severe financial loss!" One protested.
"To do otherwise risks war," the princess's firm voice cut through the din.
"War! Surely you jest, princess," Fineas spluttered. "Whoever heard of Archenland attacking Narnia!"
"I suggest you do not attempt to hide behind the Narnian flag," Galen leveled a withering glare at the Lone Islander.
Lyra only laughed. "You know as well as I do that the Telmarine king has no ships to send to your aid, though your sufficiency is doubtless current on his tribute payments."
The governor paled at the word "tribute."
"This time tomorrow, governor, or Archen soldiers will do the job for you." The Archen princess turned on her heel and strode from the room.
Late that evening, the Archen consulate buzzed with activity. Additional marines from Spearhead (which was taking its turn to resupply) marched into the consulate grounds after dark. The consulate's parlors and dining room became makeshift sleeping quarters, and the medics from the Jewel and Spearhead flitted among the twenty-three Archen sailors restored to freedom. Galen leaned on the doorframe, watching his lady with admiration. She moved among the former slaves, offering a gentle word of encouragement here, inquiring after a family there, and ensuring that none lacked a full belly or a warm bed. At last, the Narnian caught her eye and she left her charges for a moment.
"Will you walk with me a little while?" He spoke softly as he smiled at her.
"There is so much to do, Galen," she sighed. "Writing a report to my father, organizing transportation for these men back to Archenland, drafting naval orders, preparing the formal protest—"
"Lyra," he gently took her hand in his. "I'm sure Lieutenant Trevelyan has the orders and protest well in hand for now. The rest can wait for a few minutes."
Relenting at last, the princess nodded, and the two stepped out into the consulate's garden. Despite the summer season, the night air carried a chill and Lyra gratefully pulled the cloak Galen offered over the simple dress she had exchanged for her armor. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and relaxing her shoulders.
"Thank you, my friend. I did need a break."
"You care for your people well, my lady," her knight complimented. "They could find no more dedicated sovereign."
She smiled in return, inclining her head. Melancholy gradually colored her features as they continued to walk in thoughtful silence.
"Galen, I can barely breathe for anger when I think what they endured," she finally spoke. "Dear Aslan," her whisper carried a certain horror, "those taskmasters enjoyed their work, if these poor souls' backs are any evidence." She shuddered, and the Narnian comfortingly patted the hand she rested on his arm.
"Your boldness freed them, Lyra," he responded firmly. "And they will heal to return to their families in peace." He paused to chuckle. "I will never forget the stupid look on the governor's face when you burst into his council chamber like some kind of avenging angel."
Lyra laughed now too, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment.
"I may not contribute much to these diplomatic adventures," he continued, "but they are certainly entertaining."
"I don't know that what I did today honestly qualifies as diplomacy," the princess responded wryly. "But in all seriousness, my friend, I appreciate greatly that all these long weeks you have patiently endured my diplomatic obligations. Up to now, we have adventured in my area of expertise—I've trained my whole life to do what we have done since leaving Ramstowne. But in the coming days, that will change," she looked at him thoughtfully. "When we sail East, we sail into the adventure you have spent your whole life preparing to seek. I am grateful to be seeking it with you."
The young knight murmured heartfelt thanks and pressed her hand earnestly as they continued to walk.
The next morning, the activity continued unabated. Lieutenant Trevelyan scraped together half a dozen clerks from the consulate staff and the three ships' companies and put them to work collecting and copying written statements from their freed countrymen. The young legal officer himself withdrew to the small library, his quill scratching away at a lengthy diplomatic protest.
"How do we stand, lieutenant?"
Trevelyan started at the princess's voice, looking up from his parchment with a weary eyes.
"Very well, your highness," he answered, setting the quill back in its inkwell. "The Lone Islands permitting unlawful imprisonment of Archen sailors violates the Redhaven Conventions of 2033, and we have a good argument it violates the Maritime Rescue and Repatriation Treaty as well. In fact, the latter treaty gives us the right to collect and repatriate Archen sailors ourselves if the Lone Islanders will not. The factual details and our objections are in good order, and I should have the final copy for your review before the morning is out."
"Excellent." Lyra nodded. She turned to leave him, then paused and turned back. "Lieutenant, I want you to return to Archenland with the freed sailors. Two Archen merchantmen have agreed to provide direct passage to Ramstowne, but I do not expect the merchantmen to appreciate the danger along the way. I also want to entrust you with my report to the king, along with copies of all the statements and diplomatic protests. Will you draw up the appropriate orders for me to give you emergency command of the merchantmen?"
Trevelyan swallowed hard. "Of course, your highness. I am gratified by your trust in me."
"Very well," she smiled a little at his hesitance. "I will leave you to it.
She stepped out of the library into the hall, where Captain Anderson waited with scouting reports. Other officers with sundry needs waited in their turn behind him for a moment of their sovereign's time. In the Archen consul himself, Lyra found a helpful colleague, and early that afternoon the Archen diplomat personally delivered the formal protests Trevelyan expertly prepared. After some discussion with his Lone Island counterpart, the Archen consul returned to his sovereign with a mutual agreement. The governor agreed under the Maritime Rescue and Repatriation Treaty to allow the Archenlanders to collect and repatriate the enslaved Archen sailors. He, in turn, agreed to overlook the princess's threat of war, but would not contribute any of his own men to the search. He further requested the Archen ships to leave the Lone Islands as soon as they recovered their countrymen.
"Oh, how His Sufficiency tries in vain to salve his wounded pride," she chuckled when she read the agreement. "You did well, my lords," she thanked Trevelyan and the consul. "Captain Anderson," she turned to the marine, "send parties of marines throughout the Lone Islands to collect our countrymen. I will leave you to coordinate those efforts as you deem best. Notify me if you require anything else."
"With pleasure, my lady," the marine officer answered eagerly, then hurried out.
By the next evening, Captain Anderson reported back to his sovereign in success. Over seventy Archen sailors were free men again. The two Archen merchant ships stood ready to embark with the dawn to return them to Archenland. All seemed well in order, but Galen found sleep elusive. An hour or so before sunrise, the Narnian leaned against the rail on the consulate roof deep in thought. The stars still twinkled, and only a few lights shone down the hill in Narrowhaven proper. The island seemed perfectly, eerily at peace. It ill-suited the turmoil in the young knight's spirit.
"Oh Aslan," Galen whispered, resting his head in his hand. "Forgive me—I am afraid."
He drew a breath and closed his eyes.
"If only I alone had to sail into the uncharted dangers of the East. But I—I must lead hundreds of men with me, when I have no better idea of where I am going than do they. Their blood will be on my hands. I tremble at the thought!"
The young knight clenched his fist until the knuckles turned white. Then, he opened his eyes and fixed them hard upon the horizon. "Now I feel, in some small measure, the weight my friend has carried all this time," he anguished. "It is heavy indeed."
After a moment, Galen collected himself to a new prayer. "Aslan, I beg for your guidance. I have no idea where to go once we turn East—please show me. Protect these lives you have placed in my hands." His voice trailed off into silence as he rested his head again in his hand and prayed with silent earnestness.
Deep purple began to creep at the edges of the horizon now, a paler contrast to the star-studded black at the sky's zenith. A footstep sounded behind him.
"I thought I might find you here, my friend," the princess joined him at the rail. "Dawn is not far off, I think."
Galen only nodded, taking the hand she placed on the rail in his. His lady knew something troubled him, but she also knew that some troubles were best comforted in silence. After a little while, her knight seemed to relax somewhat. By now, rosier tones brought first light to the Narnian lion fluttering above the governor's castle on the ridge above them.
"I am glad to see the Narnian flag still wave," Galen spoke at last with melancholy as he looked upon it, "but I grieve that slaves have worked beneath it. 'Tis a cruel disservice."
Lyra was about to reply, when an explosion rent the air, marring the predawn sky with fire and smoke. Speechless, the two friends rushed to the closest rail, watching in horror as a block of Narrowhaven shops roiled with flames. Suddenly, another fire blazed a few streets over. Screams could be heard now where birdsong belonged. The princess stared, stupefied. But the Narnian knight looked up after feeling a sudden, peculiar downdraft.
"By the Lion, what evil is this?" Lyra breathed.
Her friend did not immediately answer, turning around and looking towards the East. His heart nearly stopped as he perceived a dark shape silhouetted on the ridge against the pale dawn. When he answered, his voice barely registered above a whisper.
"Dragon."
Authoress's note: the customary greeting of Narnians returning home belongs to Elecktrum, whose wonderful stories I recommend heartily to you. The story of King Gale and the Dragon is referenced in chapter 8 of The Last Battle. Wishing you all a happy and blessed New Year. May it be better than the last.