Authoress's Note: A few notes as we progress past the Lone Islands. First, although we will cover similar ground to the Dawn Treader, the chances of two ships without maps following exactly the same course is relatively slim. As a result, our heroes will encounter their own adventures as they make their way East. Second, the Archen ships are generally larger and faster than the Dawn Treader and capable of sailing much further without resupplying. For example, while Dawn Treader carried a single sail and was Narnia's only ship at the time, the Jewel is a frigate capable of carrying over thirty sails in fair weather and manned with experienced sailors from a longstanding, professional navy. Without further ado, I present a rare timely update!
Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine; no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter the Forty-first: Endurance
14 Greenroof 2076
"Galen!"
Lyra's voice barely cut through the din as she followed her friend's headlong flight down the consulate stairs. On the ground floor, marines flooded the hallways, pulling on chain mail and buckling each other's armor as they ran. Consulate staff and servants rushed hither and thither, eyes wide with fear and confusion. The Narnian pushed past all of them into the armory, groping for his chain mail.
"Galen!"
He looked up this time, finally hearing her amid the chaos.
"What do you plan to do?" She demanded.
"Defend my Nation's flag," he answered, his eyes set with deadly determination. He reached for his armor, but in his haste he struggled with the buckles.
"Here—let me," his lady took pity on him and reached for the pauldron straps. In the still moment that followed as Lyra fastened his armor, the young knight began to breathe again. The conflicting thoughts swimming around his head finally stilled.
"Galen, what can we do against that beast?" She hesitantly met his steady gaze after tightening the last strap.
"I will do all that I can," he answered simply. "But you must go—return to the fleet and get them out of the harbor to safety."
"I will not leave you!" Her eyes widened, and Galen gently held her shoulders as she shrank away at the thought.
"If the dragon is vanquished, return for me. If not," he paused, swallowed, then continued, "then take up the Quest in my stead."
His lady could only stare in dread, shaking her head.
"Protect your people, my lady, and let me protect mine—even such as they are!"
The princess stood frozen, clutching Galen's armored forearm as though to restrain him.
"Lyra, I beg you," the young knight implored, dropping to one knee and grasping her hands desperately, "do not make me part from you at odds."
Closing her eyes, a sigh escaped her lips as she relented.
"Aslan be with you, my love," she whispered at last, her eyes downcast.
Galen's countenance softened briefly as he smiled at her use of the endearment. As he stood, he drew her close and kissed her well.
"Until we meet again, my dearest," he gazed into her eyes for a moment, then seized his shield and helmet and ran for the courtyard. Pushing past the mustering marines, he took a horse from a nearby stable hand. In a flash, he swept himself into the saddle and spurred the animal to a gallop, taking up a sharp-headed lance from a wide-eyed squire as he rode past.
In the armory, Archenland's princess stood alone, wondering in anguish whether that would prove their last farewell. But she remembered her duty and directed firm steps to the main hall.
"Your highness!" Captain Anderson's voice carried evident relief. "We must get you to the Jewel and put to sea at once."
But Lyra stilled him with a raised hand.
"My lord consul," she turned to the diplomat, "will you evacuate the consulate?"
The Archen nobleman paused, then met her eye resolutely.
"No, your highness, we will not desert our posts, whatever may come."
"Very well," Lyra responded, inclining her head. "Then neither will we. Captain Anderson," she turned to the marine commander, "How many marines have you at the consulate?"
"About seventy-five, my lady."
"I need thirty volunteers."
Galen's horse thundered through the Narrowhaven streets, climbing the ridge to the Governor's castle. The silent thatched homes lining the lane starkly contrasted the smoke and screams rising from the city below. As he went, the young knight found himself humming the ballad of King Gale and the Dragon, then chided himself for his silliness.
"Aslan, You have an awfully strange sense of humor," he shook his head wryly. "Living out my favorite ballad wasn't exactly what I had in mind to do today!"
Urging his horse on faster, Galen endeavored to cross the exposed stretch of road along the ridge as quickly as possible. He craned his neck around, trying to see where the dragon was. Just as he reached the trees near the castle, a blast of wind struck him. Turning, he saw the back of the Dragon as it swept over the ridge and back down to the city. He pressed on, then drew up sharply at the castle gate. The heavy portcullis lay on the ground, bent nearly in two. The crushed body of a guard lay beneath it. The Narnian shouted, trying to raise the Lone Islander soldiers within, but deathly silence answered him. He pressed his horse on through the gate. The castle seemed completely deserted. Glancing around, Galen's eyes settled on the guardhouse door. He dismounted, rested his lance against the wall, and shoved in the door. Several shouts answered him, and as his eyes accustomed to the darkness, he began to see ten or twelve Lone Island soldiers hiding under roughly hewn tables. He smirked—at least Lyra taught the governor to post guards.
"Quick!" One hissed at him. "Shut the door! That beast will find us any minute!"
"I'm not here to hide," the young knight countered. "I'm here to fight. Join me," he challenged.
"Then you're here to die, mate," one scoffed. "Get out of here!"
"If you want to die like cowards, fine," Galen's eyes flashed. "But if there is a man among you who is willing to protect his home and family, follow me." He turned to leave, shaking his head, then he saw a hunting horn hanging from a hook on the wall. Seizing it, he threw the strap over his arm, picked up his lance, and remounted.
"Lieutenant Trevelyan!"
"Your highness," the young officer bowed.
"Take some marines and go to the harbor at once. Get the merchantmen to sea—and have messengers get the Valiant underway too. Tell the Commodore to have the Jewel ready to leave at a moment's notice."
Trevelyan blanched as he absorbed his orders but nodded.
"What will you do, my lady?"
The princess smiled wryly as she strapped on her sword.
"All I can," she answered.
"Lion protect you, your highness," Trevelyan bowed, then hastened to fulfill his mission.
Lyra followed him, her own armor now in place and quiver and bow slung over her shoulder. The marines mustered there snapped to attention as she entered the tree-rimmed courtyard.
"The volunteers, your highness," Captain Anderson stood with his men.
The Archen princess stopped before them.
"I am going to reinforce Sir Galen, who has gone to fight the dragon." She took a breath. "Will you fight with me?"
A unanimous, affirmative shout answered her, and she smiled broadly.
"Then, we make history today, my friends!"
Galen pulled his mount to a stop in the open at the widest point on the ridge. The Dragon wheeled at the edge of the coastline, setting fishing huts ablaze as it turned. Taking a lusty breath, the Narnian set the horn to his lips and blew with all his might. Perhaps Someone gave strength to the instrument that day, for the humble hunting horn reverberated powerfully against the hillside. And the horn had its desired effect—the Dragon turned immediately and made for the ridge. As it approached, Galen could finally observe it fully. Green scales flashed on all sides, and pointed ridges ran the length from the Dragon's neck to the end of its long, snaking tail. Leathery wings, forty feet from tip to tip, caught the morning air currents. As it drew closer, he could make out rows of razor-sharp, ivory teeth bared in a terrifying grin. He blew the horn again, trying in vain to calm his pounding heart. The Dragon alighted on the ridge a little distance from the young knight, its coppery eyes exhibiting what Galen interpreted as curiosity. It folded its wings with deliberate pride.
"Well," the Dragon spoke in deep, hissing tones, "What have we here?" It curled its tail around its great claws, almost like a cat. "Is there, indeed, one warrior in the Lone Islands?" It made a rumbling sound, and Galen suddenly understood that It was laughing. He steeled himself and raised his lance.
"In Aslan's Name, begone whence you came, foul wyrm!" He bellowed.
"Oh, that's very good—clearly enunciated, strong, convincing—if you weren't tiny, that is," the Dragon laughed again. "You stand alone, valiant knight," It mocked, flicking its tongue and crouching menacingly.
The Dragon sprang forward, but Galen anticipated it and spurred his horse on hard, lance at the ready. The leap fell wide, and Galen wheeled his mount around and charged, driving his lance at the beast. But with a quick beat of its wings, the Dragon rose safely out of range and landed back on the ridge.
"Take another, turn, Sir Knight—this is most fun I've had in years," the Dragon taunted.
At that moment, shouts rang from the castle parapet, and a straggling volley of flaming arrows flew at the beast. The Lone Islands had at least a few soldiers who found their courage. But the fiery arrows either fell short or glanced off the Dragon's hide.
"You know, you'd think more people would realize that Dragons don't really mind fire," the Dragon remarked exasperatedly, rolling its eyes in evident disappointment. "Let me show you."
Then, with a blast of flame, It retaliated. The few Lone Islanders who had found their courage either abandoned it to run or took it to their graves. But Galen seized the moment of distraction and charged for the Dragon's belly with his lance. The tournament experience served him well, and the strike hit home. The lance shattered but left its head in the Dragon's side beneath the left wing. The great beast bellowed in pain, and its thrashing tail threw Galen hard from his horse.
"Enough of this game," It hissed. Beating its wings, it rose a little ways, then breathed a fiery blast. Galen pulled himself under his shield just in time. It deflected the flame, but soon the young knight's shield arm became agonizingly hot as the shield, then the chain mail, began to succumb to the heat. At that moment, another volley of arrows struck the Dragon. This time, sharp, broad-headed arrows from accurate Archen bows struck the dragon in the face. It roared with rage. The arrows pricked its muzzle, sticking like porcupine quills.
"Another volley!" Shouted the princess, and this time the arrows stuck in the Dragon's right belly. At the same time, other marines wielding spears charged forward. But the arrows were not near enough to bring it down, just enough to make it angry. It thrashed its tail again, and the marines fell back to avoid it.
By this time, Galen regained his feet, tossing the useless shield, which was nearly melted through, to the ground. The Dragon loomed above him, its muzzle dripping blood and its eyes furious. It took menacing steps toward the lone knight. Another volley struck its back but glanced off the tougher hide.
"You will die beneath my claws," it growled.
Lyra watched helplessly from the ridge line as Galen attempted to fend the Dragon off with his sword alone. She rushed forward, but Captain Anderson held her back as the marines charged again with their spears.
"Aslan, please," she whispered despairingly.
"Your highness—look!"
At the marine commander's astonished tone, she looked down. The pale blue pendant around her neck—the one Aslan Himself gave her—began to glow. She looked up hopefully. Just as the Dragon reached the young knight, the blue jewels on his sword pommel began to glow, as they had months ago in Calormen. He took his chance, and struck upwards for the Dragon's exposed belly. The Aslan-given sword bit deeply in a flash of blue. The beast bellowed in pain—so loudly, this time, that Galen nearly thought his ears would burst. The Narnian withdrew the sword as the dragon beat its wings upward. But even this great blow was not yet mortal. As it began to take the wing, the Dragon reached out a massive claw and seized Galen—sword and all—in a vice grip. The young knight cried out in pain as it began to crush him—the armor buckling beneath the sharp claws. In a rush of air, the Dragon swooped over the ridge, loosing a last fiery blast at the Archenlanders. Then, it banked towards the East and flew out to sea.
15 Greenroof 2076
As the sun set the next day, Lyra stood in the bow of the Jewel and directed a worried gaze toward a dot above the horizon that glinted green in the golden sunset. A white gleam three quarters of the way to the horizon marked the Spearhead's position at the head of the chase. When the Dragon fled the Lone Islands, Spearhead had been furthest East on patrol and made pursuit the instant the Jewel signaled. Valiant sailed nearer, and the princess could make out that ship's masts and spars clearly. Huntress protected the rear as the fleet raced into the uncharted seas East of the Lone Islands.
"We are gaining on It, my lady," Commodore Torin softly reassured her. The weathered Archen captain had joined her at the bow rail to take a fresh bearing on the fleeing Dragon before they lost the light. Lyra glanced up at him, and Torin patted her hand with fatherly concern. "Have faith," he smiled, then made his way back to the quarterdeck.
"Aslan, protect him," she whispered, clenching her hand as the light faded.
Miles away, Galen awoke from a fitful sleep. Between the Dragon's deliberate wing beats, he could make out the first constellations glimmering in the purple dusk. He groaned as he regained consciousness. The Dragon had relaxed its hold enough for him to breathe and move a little, but that was all. The young knight's limbs ached from disuse, but his shield arm throbbed and burned agonizingly. Swallowing painfully, he realized it had been over thirty-six hours since he had anything to drink. Despair creeped upon him as the night became black. He still clutched his sword, but what could he do with it? If he stabbed the beast and It dropped him, he would perish in the depths of the ocean beneath him. Galen shook himself, trying to clear away the delirious fears rushing through his mind. Each minute passed slowly, and at last he tried to content himself with naming the stars as he glimpsed them. He just had to survive until Aslan gave him an opportunity to escape. Breath by breath, the Narnian tried to steel himself, with varying degrees of success.
16 Greenroof 2076
The next morning dawned with little change. On and on the Dragon flew, and on and on the ships followed, across a vast expanse of unbroken sea. The wind held favorably, and the Archen vessels carried every sail they had. All morning, Lyra restlessly paced back and forth on the quarterdeck. She could no longer bring herself to watch the Dragon's steady shape on the horizon.
"Mark the log, ensign," Commander Randolph instructed one of his juniors as they went about the daily tasks necessary to navigate the vessel.
"How far can we go without charts, sir?" The young officer inquired nervously.
"As far as we have to," the first officer answered. "Keep a good record, and we'll find our way home," he reassured.
"Aye, sir," the ensign tried to answer with resignation, but his nervousness persisted. Lyra continued pacing behind them, her hands clasped behind her back.
"What if this sea goes on forever, and we never find land?" The young officer glanced back at his commander, but he spoke a little too loudly this time.
"We will find land, ensign, rest assured," Lyra answered calmly, without breaking her stride.
Randolph glared hard at the unfortunate young officer, conveying in a single glance that he little appreciated such worries reaching the princess's ears. The ensign reddened and looked down, abashed. Lyra turned on her heel and paced the other direction, nodding her chin towards the East as she passed them again.
"The Dragon is leading us home."
That afternoon, the Dragon showed signs of slowing significantly. Spearhead had almost caught up to it, and the Jewel hummed with anticipation as the sailors and marines prepared for battle.
"We'll catch the thing before nightfall, my lady!" Commander Randolph exulted, his telescope fixed on the Dragon's silhouette. "It's about four miles distant now." He tapped his boot on the deck impatiently. "Hullo," the Jewel's first officer puzzled, "what's It doing now?"
Lyra leaned over the quarterdeck rail to look, and her heart skipped a beat as she realized the Dragon had turned towards them. Suddenly, Spearhead's sails burst into flames. Shouts echoed throughout the Jewel, and Randolph began barking quick commands as he called Commodore Torin to join him on the quarterdeck. Valiant caught up to Spearhead first, but the Jewel approached soon afterwards. Spearhead's quick-thinking captain had set the axe to her masts, sending the flaming rigging into the sea. By this time, the ship was largely safe from fire, and sailors ran to and fro wetting down the scorched deck timbers. But the mast-less ship was dead in the water.
"Spearhead reports its fires extinguished, sir," the signals officer spoke breathlessly. "Captain Allen estimates a jury mast will be rigged within three hours."
"Very well," Torin acknowledged, then turned to Lyra. "By your leave, your highness, I recommend that Spearhead return to the Lone Islands. Huntress can remain with her long enough to see her underway, while we continue in pursuit."
"Agreed, commodore," the princess assented, and colorful flags conveying these orders soon ran up the halliard.
Jewel and Valiant returned to the chase with a will. After two hours more, the Dragon hung low in the air, about mast-height, only one mile distant. From his vantage point, the weary Narnian knight could see the approaching sails. With a thrill of hope, he knew his chance would come soon. He could feel the Dragon's flight slowing, each wing beat a little tardier than the last. With a pang of pity, Galen realized that the Dragon was suffering as much as he was—wounded, weary, struggling. About four in the afternoon, the ships closed on the great beast. Suddenly, a heavy crossbow bolt whistled past him, missing the Dragon by a few feet. Another whistled past on the left. With a frustrated growl, the Dragon turned to face the two ships. Adrenaline flooded the weary knight imprisoned in its claw, and he gripped his sword tightly as he struggled to bring it to bear.
"Aslan," he prayed fervently, "lend me Your aid once more."
And as he spoke, the jewels on his sword hilt began to glow anew. The Narnian immediately thrust the sword into the Dragon's forearm. Roaring, the beast opened its claw, but Galen clung to its leg by his sword hilt. Gripping with his legs just above the claw, Galen pulled his sword free and hung on for dear life. The exhausted knight struggled to climb up the Dragon's leg. As he reached the top, a brilliant blue light radiated from Jewel. The Dragon tried to wheel away from it, hissing in pain at its intensity, but the light concentrated on Galen's sword. With a last effort, the young knight thrust the sword deep into the beast's chest. At last, the Dragon plummeted, careening its dead weight over and plunging into the sea.
Lyra watched the great beast fall from her vantage point in the foremast fighting top. The glow of her necklace began to fade, as did the light from the jewel on the Stone Knife itself, which the princess clutched reverently in her hands.
"Hurry!" She shouted. "He'll drown in that armor!"
But the sailors already had the boat out at Torin's order. Her heart did not leave her throat as she watched the boat skim across the water's surface. After returning the Stone Knife to its case, she hastened to the bow. Soon, the boat slowed. Some distance beyond it, the tips of the Dragon's wings still poked above the surface of the water, their breadth giving its body some momentary buoyancy. A sailor dived from the boat, a heavy length of rope tied to his waist. It seemed an eternity before she could see the other men in the boat begin to hoist him up. She could not tell if the sailor returned to the boat alone or not.
"They've got him, my lady!" Barstowe shouted, peering through his telescope.
By the time the boat returned, the Dragon's body slipped entirely beneath the waves. At last, the boat was hoisted aboard and secured. Galen lay senseless in the stern, his helmet gone but his hand still gripping his sword. The sailors lifted him out and laid him on the deck.
"He's alive, 'highness," one of the sailors quickly informed her as she hastened to her knight's side. "The Dragon's wing was under him and kept him from sinking too deep. He swallowed a good bit of water, though. "
Relieved, the princess could see that her friend's chest indeed rose and fell with regular breaths. But he looked rather like he had been run over with a wagon. Scratches from the Dragon's scales crossed his face, and blood from a deeper cut caked his hairline. The chain mail on his shield arm had melted and fused to the charred gambeson beneath it. The leather glove, too, was blackened.
"Galen," she called him softly, gently pushing away the wet hair that clung to his forehead. After a moment, he blinked slowly, and his eyes finally focused upon his lady's face.
"We did it, Lyra," he rasped, smiling at her with parched, cracked lips. "Thank you."
"By Aslan's grace," she returned his smile and grasped his uninjured hand, which had finally released its death grip on his sword hilt.
The exhausted knight rested his head wearily on the deck, coughing from the seawater. A chill shuddered through him.
"Rest now, my friend," the princess spoke gently, releasing his hand and entrusting him to the Jewel's medics, who moved him to a stretcher.
"I don't suppose you have any water?"
"By the bucket-full," one of the medics assured with a laugh as they carried him below deck.
17 Greenroof 2076
Galen awoke in his cabin, blissfully comfortable and rocked soothingly by the ship's motion. Late afternoon sunshine streamed in the diamond-paned windows. He blinked slowly and shifted on his pillow.
"How do you feel, my friend?" Lyra appeared at his bedside.
"Almost alive again," he answered wryly. The young knight tried to sit up, but fell back on his pillows with a groan. Every inch of him protested against the movement, and his shield arm began to throb with abandon. Perplexed, he lifted the arm from the covers and found his forearm and hand wrapped in bandages.
"Most people don't forget burns like that so quickly," Lyra commented. "Nor do they forget when they have bruises covering most of their body."
"Well, I'm not forgetting them now," he coughed and winced. "Anything else?"
"One of the Dragon's claws pierced the chain mail—you've a gash just under your left shoulder blade. You've bruised your ribs again, and let's not forget the dehydration," she listed off his injuries with the dispassionate tone that so often amused her knight.
"No, let's not forget that," he murmured. "Is that all?"
"'Tis enough," Lyra raised an eyebrow. "You are fortunate to be alive."
"Indeed," he chuckled at her feigned exasperation but groaned as his aching ribs taught him to regret it. "Where are we?"
"Almost 300 leagues East of the Lone Islands," Lyra answered. "With the Westerly wind we've enjoyed the past few days, we're making better than fourteen knots. The commodore even has the studding sails set. Following the Dragon's course, we are bound to come to land sooner or later."
"The Quest begins at last!" The Narnian smiled with exhilaration. Forgetting himself, he tried to sit up again. "Damn," he hissed, falling back on the pillows once more.
"You really should stop that," his lady observed wryly.
"I know," he managed to respond pitifully, nodding in pained defeat.
"You'll heal soon enough, my friend," she smiled gently, pressing his uninjured hand. She paused, looking down for a moment. "And when you do, I would ask one thing of you." The princess spoke seriously now.
"Of course, my lady, anything," his brow furrowed with concern.
"Do not ask me to leave you behind again," her soft tone carried steel with it. "If we are truly to be partners in accomplishing the missions Aslan has given us, you cannot ask me to flee every time we encounter danger."
He met her grave gaze steadily, but some internal conflict flickered in his eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though steeling himself, and when he met her gaze anew his eyes held a clear resolve.
"You have my word," her knight answered at last.
The fair weather and strong wind continued as the days slipped by in unvarying rhythm. Lyra seldom left her friend's side, caring dutifully for his injuries and keeping him company as he convalesced, just as he had done for her during the voyage from Terebinthia. As a result, in a few days, Galen could join his lady in walking the quarterdeck and watching the sunset. The Jewel's sailors, humming as they worked, smiled as the two returned to their customary walks on the deck. To them, the ship seemed restored to normalcy, notwithstanding the strange seas in which it sailed. As the days passed, however, more and more sailors began to wonder and grumble with anxiety at the inexplicable course the ships continued to hold East. The miraculous circumstances surrounding the Dragon's defeat had, likewise, not been lost on them, and speculation ran rampant. About midday on the tenth day from the Lone Islands, Commodore Torin assembled the entire crew at Lyra's request.
"My friends and countrymen," she addressed them with a clear voice from the quarterdeck. "We are grateful for your diligence and dedication throughout these days. The time has come for you to know our voyage's true objective."
A murmur rippled through the crowded deck.
"Aslan Himself entrusted to us a solemn mission in these uncharted waters. He appeared to both myself and to our Narnian friend before we departed Archenland."
Dumbfounded silence answered her, and she glanced at Galen. He took a breath, gathering the courage to address them as a leader rather than a mere passenger.
"Friends, you know me as a refugee from a conquered land. And so I am. But I am also the last of an order of Narnian knights dedicated to protecting the Stone Knife. That duty still remains to me."
He paused and withdrew the artifact itself from its case, cradling it carefully in his hands. Stronger murmurs answered him as the sailors looked at each other in confusion and surprise.
"Aslan has prepared a place for it in the East, where it may be kept in honor far away from the reach of any who would misuse or disgrace it. This is the quest Aslan set before me, to find this place. Although this sea is uncharted, we journey in the faith that Aslan will lead us, just as he has protected us already from many dangers. So, I ask you all, most humbly, to join me in this solemn task."
The young knight forced himself to look at the sailors without flinching. To his relief, their countenances reflected stalwart, reverent, yet eager resolve. He returned the Knife to its case as Lyra began to speak anew.
"Aslan also revealed that in pursuing this journey, we will have the opportunity to stop an enemy of Archenland before it ever reaches our shores. I do not know who or what that enemy may be," the princess stood straight and directed a steady gaze to her countrymen, "but already in the course of this voyage, each of you has proven himself faithful and brave—the worthiest men of Archenland. We are blessed with the rarest of opportunities—to seek adventures worthy of legend and thereby to protect our homes and our families."
Silence filled the air for a moment as Lyra finished speaking.
"We're with you, your highness!" One sailor spoke up.
"And with you too, Sir Galen!" Another contributed.
"Huzzah!"
"For Aslan!"
The crew's shouts carried across the waves, and sailors from the nearby ships peered curiously in their direction.
Galen found himself smiling broadly. Lyra glanced at Torin, who smiled too, knowing all along that his crew would never disappoint their sovereign. In the course of the day, the princess and Narnian knight visited the Valiant and Huntress as well, giving similar speeches to their crews in turn. By evening, all three ships hummed with energy as the crews returned to their duties with renewed energy and clear purpose. The fleet continued East with the steady wind.
30 Greenroof 2076
Sixteen days out from the Lone Islands, the sky turned overcast and the low clouds loosed a steady, grey, penetrating rain. Two days later, the clouds began to clear, and Valiant signaled land ahead. By the end of the day, a high mountain rose from the horizon, colored like flame in the sunset. As the last day of Greenroof dawned, the Jewel of Archenland and its cohorts approached the island. The commodore dispatched Huntress to scout around the island, while Valiant kept to the Jewel's flank. Both ships stayed a safe distance away from the strange land. From where they stood on the quarterdeck, Galen and Lyra could make out an imposing fjord and a sharp ridge that rose to meet the towering mountains, from which silent waterfalls fell. Only the flatter peninsula to starboard showed green with trees.
"I suppose we'll find out soon," Galen murmured, staring at the rocky landscape.
"Find out what?" Lyra puzzled. He looked at her with a foreboding glance.
"Whether the Dragon lived here alone."
Authoress's note: Thank you for reading! A review would be lovely!