Hello everyone! Here's the next chapter...hopefully you are still reading?
Lucy was flying, though she was not entirely sure of how—she had no wings, was not aware of consciously moving, and yet she was moving, and swiftly. The wind rushed against her face, the land below spread like a fantastical, fast moving tapestry, low downs dotted with sheep and, to the left, cliffs that dropped sharply to the sea. She could hear the surf crashing against the rocks and the shrieking of gulls as they circled below her. Her eyesight was sharp, far sharper than she could remember it being before, and as she flew along she found her eyes drawn to a fast-moving shape below, traveling parallel to the edge of the rough cliff. Curiosity prickled through her, and she found herself suddenly swooping down, eyes straining to make out the details of what she now saw was a horse and rider.
The horse was a beautiful creature, with a dappled grey coat and a swift, smooth gait, but Lucy barely had time to think how lovely it was before her attention was fully captured by the rider. It was Edmund, or so she thought at first (though his hair was longer than she had ever seen it and would have fallen to his shoulders if it had not been blown back by the wind).
But it can't be! He was unarmed, alone, and Lucy was absolutely certain there were no cliffs like the one he was riding along in Narnia. She drew closer, somehow keeping pace with the galloping horse—though she still did not know how she was moving at all—and saw that it couldn't have been Edmund after all. He was very like her brother, but there was something different about his face. There was a lack of caution and a lightness in his expression that made Lucy quite certain he had never fought in a battle, never thrown himself between almost certain death and a loved one without a thought for his safety—never spoken the words which would condemn a guilty prisoner.
He was laughing, head thrown back and eyes closed as he slowed the horse from a gallop to a trot as they neared a rough patch of ground where the road ran perilously close to the cliff's edge for a few paces and then began descending steeply towards the sea below. The horse shied away from the drop with a nervous whinny and Lucy saw the man who was not quite Edmund smile and pat the beast's neck in reassurance.
Lucy shuddered—though she was still not aware of having a body—as the wind gusted suddenly, bringing with it an icy chill and a scent like carrion. The horse whinnied again, shrill and frightened, and stopped at the edge of the cliff where the road began descending. The rider tugged on the reins, leaning forward in the saddle to speak quietly in the horse's ear. A shadow fell across the road before them and Lucy felt a sick feeling of dread settle over her as she looked upward and saw a vulture, circling down in lazy, slowly shrinking circles.
The rider had seen it too and looked up sharply, his expression guarded now as he frowned.
"Son of Obresh." The voice was terrible—the sound of fingernails scraping across slate, the echoing of dying screams, Lucy's own cry of terror as foaming jaws snapped together inches from Susan's ankle and her grip on the rough tree branch she clung to began to slip, a furious, grief stricken shout she recognised as Peter's, and further away in her memory, so faint it was almost an echo, a terrible cacophony of explosions, screams, and a roaring sound like the rushing of a great river.
If she had legs she would have run, if she had wings she would have flown as fast and as far as she could, but she found that she could not move—she seemed frozen in midair, hovering a few feet in front of the horse and rider as the vulture slowly circled again, his shadow nearly falling over the nose of the shying, terrified horse.
The rider gripped the reins with white knuckled fingers now, his face set in a grimace of concentration as he tried to keep his seat. "Begone, foul creature!" he called, and his voice was not Edmund's either—it was deeper, and he spoke in the musical, lilting accent of a high borne Calormene. "I do not fear you!" Lucy could not help but believe him. His face was pale and set, but in defiance, not in terror. "In the name of my mother's God I bid you leave me in peace, demon! In the name of A—"
The horse screamed. The sound was so terrible, so filled with pure terror that it took Lucy a moment to realise that the shadow of the vulture's wing had passed over the creature's neck as the bird circled again. The rider's words were cut short by the sound, and by the horse suddenly bolting forward in blind terror. It veered wildly away from the cliff, turning so suddenly that the rider was thrown off balance and reeled in the saddle.
Then the vulture struck—swooping down as swiftly as an arrow from a bow to slash at the horse's flanks. The poor creature, maddened with terror and pain reared, throwing its rider. The fall would not have been too serious, the ground was not rocky, and the grass looked thick and springy, but they were still too near the cliff and the earth there was crumbling—worn by years of wind and rain. For a moment Lucy watched as the horseman with her brother's face lay, half stunned at the cliff's edge, and then—to her horror—she saw the ground begin to slide away beneath him.
The vulture loomed above him, his shadow impossibly large, and impossibly dark as it blotted out the sun, the sky—the whole world it seemed—and turned the air icy and thick with the smell of death.
"ASLAN!"
16th. of Greenroof, 1012—Third-day
There were hands on her arms, shaking her, and Lucy lashed out blindly, fighting to free herself, still half caught in the grip of the dream which seemed to have inexplicably become a nightmare.
"Queen Lucy! Yer majesty!" The voice was rough, familiar, and concerned, and she blinked, the world slowly coming back into focus. At that particular moment the world seemed to consist of a lined, weathered face and grey-streaked red hair. Rhegus was bending over her, gripping her arms in an almost painful grip.
"Captain?" Her voice was hoarse, and she found that she was shaking badly, the chill of the icy, foul smelling wind seemed to have followed her to the waking world.
Rhegus released her and straightened, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Are ye well, Queen Lucy? Ye were shouting in your sleep an' I could no' wake ye."
Lucy sat up, feeling rather dizzy, and looked around, blinking and confused by the small ship's cabin she found herself in. Of course! I'm on the pirate ship. "I—" she coughed, her throat felt raw, and Rhegus immediately fumbled in one of the pockets of his coat and handed her a waterskin.
"'Ere, ye're alrigh', Queen Lucy? Take i' slow." His brow was furrowed, eyebrows drawn together into a single, worried line, and Lucy tried to smile shakily at him as she accepted the waterskin.
"I'm alright," she managed to say at last, though her hands were shaking badly. It seemed so real. "I—I think I must have had a nightmare."
Rhegus nodded gravely and leaned against the wall of the tiny cabin, bending his head slightly to keep from hitting it against the low ceiling. "Aye, I'd say ye were. Do ye—" Whatever he had been going to say was cut off by the small door of the cabin crashing open (and nearly crashing into him) to admit Merton. The Faun was red-faced and puffing, as if he had just run far further than across the deck and down the narrow steps in front of the cabin.
Completely ignoring Rhegus, despite the fact that he had almost bashed his head in with the door, he bowed hastily to Lucy and waved an urgent hand back towards the narrow stairs. "You'd better come quickly, your majesty. That pirate," here he did look at Rhegus, his expression disdainful. "Is refusing to go any further."
Lucy scrambled to her feet, which were still bare despite the fact that no less than five pirates had offered to give her their boots, and gathered up the cloak she had agreed to borrow from Balthasar's cabin boy. Rhegus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in resignation.
"I don' mean t' gloat, Queen Lucy, bu' I did warn ye," he said quietly as they followed Merton up the stairs and on to the gently rolling deck of the ship. "Balthasar only does wha' suits 'im, and if 'elping ye no longer suits 'im 'e's likely t' throw us all overboard."
Lucy groaned and rubbed a hand across her aching eyes. The terror of her dream was fading, but she was still badly shaken, and the prospect of being thrown overboard (again) was not a pleasant one. "But why would he change his mind now?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at Rhegus. "He was willing to help yesterday, and nothing's changed, has it?"
Rhegus shrugged noncommittally, sharp eyes scanning the deck for the pirate captain. "I gave up trying t' understand 'im years ago, your majesty. Ye migh' 'ave better luck askin' 'im yourself." He nodded his head towards the opposite side of the deck where Balthasar stood, shoulders hunched and contorted as he leaned against the railing.
Lucy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she hurried across the damp planking of the deck. The sun was not quite up yet, and she was grateful for the warmth of the cloak around her shoulders and almost wished she had accepted a pair of boots after all—the damp was making her feet very cold and by the time she reached the pirate's side she did not feel even remotely regal with her feet half numb and her hair still mussed from sleep.
Balthasar grunted in acknowledgement of her presence, raised an eyebrow at her disheveled appearance, and went back to studying the slowing brightening line that was the Eastern horizon. Lucy followed his gaze, expecting to see the faint outline of land in the distance, between them and the rising sun, or at the very least an uninterrupted line of gold where sky and sea met and the sun's rays set the water sparkling with dancing ripples of light.
She did see the faint outline of land, slightly closer than she had expected—close enough, in fact, that she could see the vague outline of a harbour with a city rising behind it—but it was not this that made her draw in her breath sharply, and lean over the railing, trying to see more clearly. There was something between them and the Doornish coast, a line of spindly shapes distributed at odd intervals before them—still a few leagues off but growing closer as the wind blew from the West and hastened the pirate ship forward.
They're ships! Lucy realised in wonder as her eyes slowly focused, adjusting to the glare of the sun on the water. Captain Balthasar seemed to be aware of the moment she came to this realisation and silently passed her his Captain's glass. Lucy peered through it, squinting against the brightness, and frowned.
They were light, single-masted sloops, which Lucy immediately thought was very strange, the Lone Islanders used heavier, two-masted brigantines for both trade and war, and if they were pirate ships then surely Balthasar would not be glaring at them as if their very existence was a personal afront to him.
She swept the glass up, and strained her eyes, trying to make out the insignia on the banners flying from the mast, but the glare of the sun was too bright as it rose fully above the horizon, nearly blinding her.
"Look a' t'e sails," Balthasar said shortly, still leaning over the railing with one hand raised to shield his eyes.
Lucy obliged, lowering the glass until it focused on the square trimmed sails of the lead ship. They were black, the absence of colour startling against the bright background of the sunrise, and it took her a only moment to see what Balthasar wanted her to take note of. The insignia of a red flame seemed to burn upwards from the lower left corner of the sail, spreading as it rose until it seemed to consume the black fabric with startling, blood red brightness.
Calormen. Lucy shivered in spite of herself and handed the glass back to Balthasar. "Captain—"
"No." He held up a hand, cutting off what she had meant to say and glaring fiercely. "I'll no' risk me ship an' me crew, reward be damned. I'll take ye no furth'r."
"But what are they doing here?" Lucy asked desperately, choosing, for the moment, not to argue the point. She couldn't really blame Balthasar for not being willing to risk the wrath of Calormen by interfering in whatever their business was on the promise of some future reward. I suppose the whole point of a reward is that you are alive to claim it, she reflected, though she didn't think she quite understood why someone would need to be offered a reward in the first place. Helping someone else had always been reward enough for Lucy.
Balthasar snorted and shoved the glass back into his pocket as he took up his staff. "Can ye no' tell? I's a blockade, yer queenliness. The Calormenes," he paused, and spat on the deck—making it very clear just what he thought about Calormenes. "Don' wan' any o' yer kin' ge'ing through t' 'elp t'e Islanders."
Lucy stared at him blankly, her mind feeling strangely slow to process this new information. But, it doesn't have anything to do with Calormen! She though desperately. Peter sent me here to deal with the council, not a fleet of Calormene warships.
Balthasar sighed, obviously interpreting her expression correctly as confusion. "Ye didn' know, did ye? Calormen 'as decided t' stake their claim on t'e Islands, seeing as ye lot aven't done anythin' 'ere since ye arrived." He growled something else, which Lucy could not quite make out, under his breath, and turned away from the railing. "Red!" he motioned to Rhegus, who had kept his distance but remained within earshot.
Lucy saw her friend bristle at the old nickname, or perhaps at Balthasar's manner—or lack of manners—in general, but he approached readily enough and the concern in his expression when he looked at Lucy made her want to run to him and throw her arms around him. "Your majesty?" Though it was Balthasar who had called for him it was to Lucy that Rhegus inclined his head, acting as if his former captain was not even present.
Balthasar laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Been eavesdroppin', 'ave ye then Red? Ye always did 'ear more than was good fo' ye."
Rhegus ignored him and kept his gaze focused on Lucy. "Queen Lucy, are ye well?" he asked quietly, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
Lucy did not feel at all well. Her head was spinning, but whether from the shock of discovering the Calormenes' involvement in the Lone Islands or from the lingering terror of her dream she could not be sure. There's something about their sails…the thought tugged at the back of her mind and she closed her eyes briefly, thinking back to the red pattern across the black fabric. Flames. She was certain that was what they were—it was the same insignia she had seen a hundred times on the banners of visiting Calormene dignitaries, but there was something else—a pattern in the flames that she had not noticed before.
It was a vulture in flight—foul wings spread against the background of inky blackness, thin, foul neck craning downward as if scanning the deck of the ships below for its next meal. Lucy shuddered, the terror of her dream rushing back as she remembered the screams of the panicked horse and saw the young man with her brother's face sliding slowly to his death over the edge of the cliff.
It wasn't just a nightmare. She realised, feeling dread creeping over her. I should have known, with what Aslan has been showing me! It felt like a warning, but it hadn't been Edmund falling over the cliff—not really—and yet…she could not shake the feeling that it was somehow all connected. The ships, the vulture, Susan weeping, and Peter and Edmund in a tunnel before Edmund crumpled to the ground and the light was extinguished.
"Queen Lucy?" Rhegus' voice was coming from very far away, or from underwater, strange and echoing. She blinked, the world slipping in and out of focus as the faces of the two men before her seemed to ripple. "Lucy!"
She shook her head and forced her eyes to focus. "We need to go to Calormen." She wasn't sure where the sudden certainty came from—one moment she had been frightened, unsure of anything—and the next she was filled with a rush of warmth and strength. "Captain Balthasar, I need this ship. You can help me and be rewarded, or you and your crew are welcome to take the rowboats and try your luck with the Calormenes."
The pirate captain stared at her. Rhegus stared at her, his mouth half open as if he had been about to speak. Lucy was quite certain that if anyone else had suggested such a thing she would be staring at them too. I must sound as though I've gone mad!
"Look 'ere, li'le ge'l," Balthasar began, his expression thunderous, and then he stopped. His face changed, going from quarrelsome and flushed with rage one moment to paper-white the next. He staggered, clutched at his staff and Rhegus' shoulder for support, and his mouth dropped open.
Lucy did not need to turn to know what had so changed him. She could feel the Lion's presence at her back, could smell the wild, sweet scent that clung to His fur, and she stepped back, feeling the solid warmth of His side at her back.
Rhegus dropped to his knees, shoulders slumping forward as he bowed his head, and Balthasar, unbalanced by the other man's sudden absence as his support stumbled and went down heavily on one knee—still clutching his staff and gaping at the Lion, Who had seemed to appear from thin air on his ship.
Aslan was purring. Lucy could feel the rumble of it through the strong chest that pressed against her back and she smiled, wanting to turn and throw her arms around His neck, but somehow sensing that now was the time for her to stand strong and proud at His side instead.
"Well done," He said quietly, His breath warm on the top of Lucy's head as He spoke. "You understand now, Lucy."
"I'm not sure I do, Aslan," Lucy admitted, though she knew there was no shame in it.
Aslan chuckled and stepped past her, towards the kneeling pirates—the members of Balthasar's crew had all dropped to the deck as soon as they saw the Lion—and approached Rhegus, who was still kneeling looking as dejected as Lucy had ever seen anyone look.
"My son." Aslan bent His head until it was level with Rhegus' bowed one and Lucy saw that the Captain's shoulders were shaking. "Rise."
Rhegus stood shakily, though he kept his head bowed and did not look at the Lion, and Aslan seemed satisfied. He turned to Balthasar next and Lucy saw His lips draw back in a faint snarl as He regarded the pirate.
"Balthasar." His voice was terrible, and Balthasar trembled, his knuckles going white where they gripped his staff. "You have not been kind to your fellow men, my child." The pirate's shoulders shook, and Lucy felt very sorry for him, though she was certain that Aslan wasn't nearly as cross with the Captain as He seemed to be. "Will you do as my chosen Queen requests, Pirate Lord?" Aslan asked, His voice was quiet, but the sound seemed to carry further than it ought to have and Lucy knew everyone on the deck could hear what was being said.
Balthasar straightened his shoulder slightly and lifted his head. His face was still terribly pale, but a hint of a challenging gleam had entered his sharp old eyes. "Beggin' yer pardon, Lord, bu' t'e world 'asn't been kind t' me. I've 'ad t' work fo' everythin' I 'ave, an' I won' risk i' for someone I don' know."
It was, Lucy reflected later, a rather brave thing for Balthasar to say, especially considering that he was nose-to-nose with a Lion nearly four times his size. She knew Aslan would not do anything to harm him, but she supposed that Balthasar was much less likely to realise his statement would not result in his immediate death.
Aslan chuckled, his breath ruffling through Balthasar's grey hair and beard and stirring the folds of his cloak. "You risk nothing that belongs to you, Balthasar, save for your life."
Balthasar's faced paled further still and he sagged visibly, the challenging spark fading from his eyes. He looked very old and weary—faded—next to the brilliant gold of the Lion and Lucy was tempted to go to him and assure him that he had nothing to fear.
She wasn't entirely sure she knew why she was so certain of that. It wasn't as if Aslan was a tame lion. She had seen Him charge through the ranks of the Witch's army, scattering Fell Creatures before Him with a snarl on His lips, but they had been fallen—evil—Balthasar, she somehow knew, was not. He was not a good man, Rhegus had been certain to reiterate that on more than one occasion, but he wasn't exactly bad either.
"Will you do as your Queen asks, my child?" Aslan asked gently, and Balthasar nodded shakily.
"I will, Lord," he mumbled, and the words sounded rather sullen, but were no less sincere for that. "If you command it."
"I do." There was a swirl of golden fire, a roar of sound that filled Lucy with a tingling rush of warmth and joy, and then the deck was empty, save for the kneeling pirates, the Narnians who had emerged from below decks at some point during the conversation, and Rhegus, standing at her side, blinking and dazed.
Balthasar was still kneeling, though he was struggling clumsily to stand, and Lucy crossed to him quickly and offered her hand. He peered up at her, half-frowning, and accepted her aid less grudgingly than she had expected.
"I suppose ye'll be wantin' t' leave now?" he mumbled, staring down at the deck beneath the worn leather of his boots and refusing to meet her gaze.
Lucy smiled, even if he wasn't going to see it she knew it would show in her voice. "If you please, Captain."
Balthasar grunted something that might have been assent and stumped away, leaning heavily on his staff, the twist in his spine more pronounced than ever. Lucy watched him go a little sadly—he had seen Aslan, had bowed to his authority, but he didn't seem any happier to obey Aslan than he had been to obey her.
"I's no use 'oping 'e'll change, Queen Lucy," Rhegus said quietly. "'E's set in 'is ways, is old Balthasar, 'e'll obey, bu' don' think fer a moment tha' 'e'll be 'appy to." He sighed and pulled out his pipe. "If ye don' mind my askin', why are we going to Calormen?"
Lucy considered for a moment, turning back to the railing and resting her elbows on it as she listened to sailors shouting orders and curses as they slowly got down to the business of turning the ship's prow towards the Southwest. "You know, Captain, I'm not really sure." She smiled and turned her face upwards to the sky, feeling the warmth of the morning sun sink into her bones and dispel the last, lingering traces of the dread and terror she had felt before Aslan's arrival. "But I have a feeling we will all know soon."
There's that, and soon you will see a re-convergence of storylines! Hopefully you are still enjoying this story...please do leave me a review and let me know! Up next is a chapter about Peter and Edmund in Tashbaan...so keeping checking back for updates!
Cheers,
A
