Lee Scoresby woke into a world of torment. His body ached, the pain so all-encompassing he could not pinpoint the various wounds. Everywhere was a wound. He was cold, too, except for his back which was on fire, and his throat was so dry it felt like it held shards of glass, and every swallow tasted of blood. It was also dark, and the ground was stone, and he shivered violently.
Soft, warm fur cuddled against his heart, shivering with him, and he instinctively moved an arm to hold Hester, only his arm protested the movement (everything protested the movement) and then he came to be aware of the cold metal encasing his wrists.
It was disorientating to wake up to such a reality; particularly as he hadn't had the choice of going to sleep. For a long moment he had no memory whatsoever of where he was or why he hurt or why he felt so relieved when he heard Hester's soft voice whisper, "Lee?"
"Hester?" he said, his voice coming out strange. Between his sore throat and his torn lip the word was rough and slurred.
"I thought they killed us for sure," whispered Hester. And then, "What are we going to do Lee?"
Lee thought this over. He remembered now, where he was. He was still in the middle of the stronghold, still chained and shirtless, his back an agony, which was rather less of a contrast than he'd have cared for to the rest of his body, which was stiff and sore and also rather bruised up, particularly around the ribs. Someone at some point had taken pity enough to throw a rough blanket over him, which shielded him from the worst of the cold. He kept shivering anyway. Part from the elements and part, he rather feared, from the severity of all that had happened to him.
"We've got out of worse," Lee decided, not so much factually as because he needed that to be true, because if they were in worse situations and got out, then this would come out right as well. Hester was less inclined to that fantasy.
"Really?" she demanded. "When?"
"We en't shot this time. Just…just roughed up and…" he did not think about a person touching Hester, did not think the word 'violation', but they both shuddered anyway. Instead Lee dredged up an old memory, similar in some ways to the current situation (hands, touching Hester, pain). "And these men, they're bad, but…but…well, they en't no Pierre McConville."
"I don't know…you didn't see the way that one boy looked at me. At least McConville had a reason to hate us. But these men…it en't even personal. I think they might be worse."
"Well…whatever happens, we got to get Lyra out of here."
"I don't see us being good for much, Lee," Hester answered, no less determined but more pragmatic. "Even if…" but there she stopped, ear twitching. Lee didn't seem to notice, just held her as best as he could with shackled wrists and whispered reassurances.
"We have good friends, that's got to count. So we make things as easy for them as we can."
Hester did not answer for a bit, perhaps listening to something moving away, perhaps simply not knowing what to say. When she did speak, it was to return to her earlier question.
"So what do we do now?" Hester repeated, this time emphasizing the now.
"Play we're half dead," Lee decided. "They'll think we're down for the count."
"We are half dead, Lee," said Hester, tone saying 'come up with a better plan.'
"All the better for the act," Lee answered.
"Listen, Lee," whispered Hester, "There's an owl daemon keeping watch, I heard them talking. But I reckon its eyes will be turned outwards, watching for Iorek. If we could get you out of these shackles…get to Lyra and…" There was a moment of silence and then, "Lee?"
No one answered, but Hester did not really expect him to. Lee might be able to pretend to himself but there was no fooling Hester; she could feel his every hurt, his exhaustion, and she felt when he slipped down under again. They were in bad shape, and it seemed very likely that they would need their friends because they weren't going to get out of this one on their own.
"Don't leave me, Lee," Hester whispered. "Because I don't want to leave you." Then she found a way to huddle even closer, and closed her eyes, and kept her ears open, and she shivered.
The night passed, for everyone, worse for some than for others, and with the dawn came a noise that roused just about everyone in the stronghold. It was the thrum of an approaching zeppelin, one of moderate size, about twice the size of Lee's balloon.
The lookout called out its arrival, though that was hardly necessary; the leader was already up and watching its approach. Other came out to join him. Lyra came too, rubbing her eyes and carrying Pan, who appeared to still be half asleep. It was their fifth attempt to escape the barracks; all the other times they found the way barred and an alert guard ready. This time, no one bothered to bar her way and she was allowed to leave unprotested.
Most everyone was looking up; Lyra turned immediately towards Lee Scoresby. She saw him in the same place, or at least someone was; someone had put a blanket over him after all. She hoped he had also gotten some food and drink, but did not think it likely. She wanted to run to him, but thought any such sudden movement would be stopped. They were running out of time. She could not afford to be stopped now.
"Huh," said a voice next to her, the young man, and Lyra resisted the urge to shrink away. He looked in the direction she did, towards Lee Scoresby, and said, "I guess he didn't survive the night after all."
Lyra went cold all over, felt almost faint. "What?" she managed to say.
"His daemon's disappeared," the young man pointed out, nodding towards the empty cage.
"And you take that to mean she's vanished to the great beyond?" said yet another new voice, the one who seemed to be in charge. "That cage en't even locked; it was never going to hold the rabbit, not once no one was around to keep it in. She'll be with the man."
Lyra learned to breathe again. Of course Lee Scoresby had not just up and died in the night. Mr. Scoresby wouldn't just leave her. Iorek wouldn't let that happen either. Mr. Scoresby was just sleeping, under that blanket. She just had to go over and wake him up.
"You sure?" asked the young man. "You didn't see how rough Johnson went on him. Cracked some ribs; a few good hits in his soft bits too. That can kill a man dead over time."
"Mr. Scoresby?!" Lyra called, and pretending to herself that this was part of her act, part of being a terrified little girl, she ducked under a reaching hand and ran for him.
"Mr. Scoresby, Mr. Scoresby!" Lyra cried, pulling at the blanket, needing to see.
"Lyra?" croaked out a voice, and then Mr. Scoresby was blinking his eyes (or eye, one was rather swollen). The blindfold was gone, less out of kindness and more out of Hester being perfectly free to help out. It was gone and chewed to bits.
"Are you bad off? Are you…are you cold?" Lyra asked as he struggled into a sitting up position. The blanket half fell down one shoulder and the shackles, still holding him to the pole though the chains were slack, did not help. The revealed shoulder had developed into a horrific kaleidoscope of colors, and the skin had been split by the beating towards the top, blood dried black. Lyra did not like to look at it and rather thought Lee Scoresby did not want her to look either, and she reached over and helped to re-drape the blanket around him like a cloak.
"Lyra?" he said again, his voice rough and painful, and this time he sounded surprised.
"Don't worry," she whispered into his ear.
"Come along," said the leader, sauntering over. "Our ride is waiting. We'll have to go up in a basket; there is no good landing spot here and even if the bear does seem to have good and deserted you both, I'm not such a fool as to walk you through the forest. The girl first."
"No," Lyra answered, suddenly defiant, and she sat next to Mr. Scoresby. "We're staying together."
The leader raised an eyebrow, then looked at Lee Scoresby, as though to ask what he thought of her display. If he expected him to talk sense into her, he was disappointed.
"Stubborn, this one," he said instead. "I never could changer her mind once it's set. Best leave us together."
"You can be together when we're in the air," the leader answered. Then, when Lyra made no move to get up, he said "fine," and then, over his shoulder, "Get her daemon; I'll get her into the basket."
His wolf approached and Lyra shrank back, against Lee, and Lee longed to put an arm around her, but of course he was still chained. Pan darted away, under the blanket. The leader sighed, then reached down and grabbed the girl.
"No!" Lyra shrieked, and Lee Scoresby lurched towards her, never mind his own pains, only to be brought short by the chain. "No!" Lyra shouted again, and then, "It hurts! You're pulling me too far from my daemon!"
"If your daemon would move, that wouldn't be a problem," the leader pointed out, and he took a step back, his wolf watching expectantly for the daemon to come running out so she could grab him. Inevitably, Pan did. And so did Hester. And suddenly there were two arctic hares, both squirming like they both wanted Lyra.
The wolf hesitated. It was so obvious to Lee Scoresby which was Hester that he could scarcely believe no one else could tell, but still the wolf hesitated.
"Which one do I grab?" she asked, looking towards her human, who was still holding a squirming Lyra. The child was small for her age, easy enough for a grown man to lift, but neither was she an infant and she knew how to move to make things difficult. Lee Scoresby watched the exchange with trepidation because there were too many unknowns. He knew how far those men were willing to go with him, but not with Lyra. Would they drag her away? Would they decide she was struggling too hard and punish her? Would they hurt her? Lee Scoresby longed to intervene, but he couldn't, not yet, so he had to trust; trust in Lyra to handle herself. Trust in Iorek to come at the right time and not be killed. Trust in Pan and Hester. It was even harder than being beaten, because no one was holding him to it but at the same time there was no choice. Lee Scoresby hated not having a choice.
It seemed the man did not mean to hurt Lyra, because he was putting up with her struggles in a way that didn't cause her pain, no matter what she did to him. He was also distracted enough to not direct his daemon in how to find Lyra's daemon. This in turn distracted his wolf.
"Just, just, go for the male hare," the man managed to reason out. Of course, that was easier said than done; to the untrained eye all hares look the same and the two weren't exactly showing off the pertinent bits that would give them away. The wolf snarled at them, half lunging, and both hares leapt into Lee Scoresby's lap and huddled, trembling. Lee Scoresby sat absolutely still, staring at the two hares, hardly breathing.
He wasn't actually touching Lyra's Pan, he would never, but Pan was close enough to feel his heat, his heartbeat, just a thin blanket between Lee Scoresby's skin and the daemon. Lee had to force himself to keep his eyes equally on both hares, because his instinct was to stare at Pan.
The wolf growled again, and the hares darted underneath Lee's blanket. Lee looked at the wolf, then at the man and Lyra, and waited to see what happened next.
"Why don't I just grab a hare," asked the young guard, who had come over during the commotion. They had the attention of just about everyone, except those necessarily looking to the zeppelin. "See which of them screams."
"Because, if you grabbed the wrong one, you could hurt our charge. We're meant to protect her."
"He protects me," Lyra said. "You never could."
"You heard her," said the young man. "He'd never let me grab the wrong one. If I got close, he'd let me grab his just to save her."
"You…you can't touch…" Lyra gasped out, shocked into momentary stillness.
"I said leave it!" the leader ordered, but the youth, not seeming to hear, plunged his hand into the folds of the blanket, and before anyone could stop him came back with a hare by the nape of its neck.
Both Lyra and Lee screamed, though for different reasons. The young man held the hare aloft with a triumphant expression. Lyra stayed utterly still and let out a sob of horror.
"There, you see, female," the young man said, holding Hester aloft to show that off, a disturbing smirk on his face. "Feels…different…holding someone's…"
Which was as far as he was able to get before he was robbed of the ability to speak by a bullet exploding through his head. He did not even have time to be surprised before he fell.
The leader, on the other hand, had plenty of time for surprise before a bullet found him. It was not a fatal shot; because the one doing the shooting was hindered by a desperate need to not miss and hit the child the target was holding and because a swollen eye can mess with a man's depth perception.
The leader shouted when the bullet found him and dropped the girl, his wolf letting out a wounded yelp of her own and leaving off trying to grab Pan. The girl wasted no time stumbling back to Lee Scoresby. Lee Scoresby who was not wearing shackles anymore but was holding a pistol aimed squarely at the leader. Now he had a clean shot, but he also had a traumatized girl barreling into him, and now there were more guns aimed back at them. Lee could shoot, but he risked itchy trigger fingers if he did, and Lyra was exposed. So was he, for that matter.
It was an impasse, but time was on the abductors' side, because Lee Scoresby could feel his own weakness, and there was only so much longer the gun was going to hold steady in his hands.
"How?!" demanded the leader, clutching his bloody side but regrettably still standing.
Lyra turned her head from Lee Scoresby, still crying but somehow distinctively different from the crying little girl from before. "You never thought to search a little girl when she walked right into your trap?" she demanded, voice imperious and scornful. "I just came back from hunting an elk with a bear. Of course I had a gun."
"Of course," said the leader, almost sheepishly, and then, with a smile, "Well, that was a clever trick. But I think your brave guardian is going to faint sooner rather than later. And what is your plan then?"
"Pick up the gun myself and shoot you dead," Lyra answered right back.
The leader laughed out loud. So did several of his men.
"You think you can shoot, then?" the leader asked.
"Sure she can," said Lee Scoresby, his voice rough and far weaker than he meant it to be, but as proud as anything. "Taught her myself."
"We're leaving," said the leader, frowning now, "And she's coming with us and you are going to be dead."
"Or," said Lee Scoresby, struggling to stand, numerous guns carefully trained on him, watching his every move. Lyra stood too, helping him rise. Lee never lowered his own gun, still trained on the leader. "Or you let us leave and maybe we let you live."
"You're half in the grave already!" the leader answered. "How can you possibly think this will end any other way?"
"They're right, Lee," Hester said from between Lee's feet. The man frowned but did not glance down at her, keeping his aim steady.
"That right, Hester?" he answered.
"It does look hopeless Lee. They got a lot of guns. Although…"
"Although?" asked Lee.
"They got guns but we…we got a Iorek."
Which was all the warning that was given before the full weight of an armored bear burst through the fence, in precisely the right place to shatter the posts holding up the platform where the lookout (who was currently looking in, towards the action) had been standing.