Ch 4 - Two Kinds Of Courage

All warfare is based on deception. - Sun Tzu, The Art of War

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Lucy lay shivering on the deck. The pirate standing over her looked to the gathered men, oblivious as he to the driving rain. "Any other survivors?" he asked.

"A few, sir. Hauling them up now. Ship's lost."

The pirate frowned. "And all its cargo. Damn these storms."

The bottom dropped out of Lucy's stomach. All of those Narnians, some of them my friends. Gone, and all he cares for is gold. Filled with indignant rage, she struggled against wet skirts to get to her feet.

The man's attention came back to her. He looked her up and down, and his eyes lingered at her throat, where she had clasped an ornate pearl-and-sapphire necklace that morning. His expression sharpened in the staccato lightning glare as his eyes returned to her face. She shivered again and tried to back away. He stepped forward and grabbed her around the waist. Lucy squeaked and felt herself lifted from the deck. The pirate tossed her over his shoulder. She kicked, and he clamped his arm tighter around the yards of soaked fabric already restricting movement of her legs. "Resume your duties," he called. "This one needs further inspection."

Jeers followed their retreat, the tone of which Lucy didn't want to analyze too closely. The man strode aft down the deck. Lucy thought of biting him, but she'd only get a mouthful of the man's long leather coat at the angle he held her. She tried grabbing for the thick, wet ponytail of hair hanging down his back and missed. "Let go!" she shouted, kicking again, but her attempts were fruitless. "I demand you release me!"

He answered with a deep chuckle, dripping with sarcasm. "I answer to one man, leddy, and you ain't him."

They passed through a doorway. Lucy was relieved to have the rain stop splattering her face, but the sudden brightness of lantern light made her feel she'd been swallowed by The Phoenix, never to be seen again.

He let her down so quickly she almost fell. He snatched her forearms and held them behind her, tight enough to remind her that he was in control. If she resisted, he might easily break her arms. A glance around confirmed bare floors and walls. No weapon to be used against him, and her own strength and agility would not match his size in such tight quarters. Certainly not in these clothes. She would have to wait for her opportunity.

"Walk," he said. He pushed her forward, guiding her down a flight of steps and then another. The noise of the storm muffled. The lantern-glow increased. Lucy staggered against the rocking of the ship. Her captor held her steady. When she glared back at him, she found him wearing a half-smile of amusement. Watching him, she missed the last step down and started to fall forward.

He grabbed her tighter. One brow inched up. "Careful, now. Don't ruin that face, lovie."

Against her nature and her court manners, she started to snarl an insult, but he guided her to a final door. It couldn't be the brig; that would likely be at the bottom of the ship, and not aft. His own cabin? A ball of horror formed in her belly. Give me courage, Aslan.

The man rapped on the door. A muffled voice bade them enter.

He pushed the door open to reveal a surprisingly spacious room with glass windows at the back, providing a lightning-lit view of the tempestuous sea that made Lucy's stomach begin pitching all over again. Lanterns swung from the ceiling beams, warming the room in their glow. The cabin was almost bare of furnishings, except for a bunk with a simply-stitched blanket, a table and stools, and what looked like a library's worth of books and maps. A half-eaten bowl of porridge sat on the table. Lucy's stomach growled.

Then she noticed the man sitting on the floor, facing the windows. His dark head was bowed. A short ponytail fell just past the nape of his neck. He wore a scarred leather jerkin.

"Cap'n?" said the man holding her.

Lucy arched around to look at him. She'd thought he was the captain.

The other stood, looking out the windows for a moment, then turned around. A cry of anguish lodged in Lucy's throat.

Edmund.

She opened her mouth, but couldn't get words out. She tried to fly to him, but her captor's grip prevented movement. One-handed, the bronze-eyed man patted her clothing with enough familiarity to draw another squeak from her breathless lungs. "She's got no weapons," he said.

A hard look came into Edmund's eyes. "Leave us."

The bronze-eyed man gave her a mocking smile and ducked out of the room.

Lucy hiked up her skirts and rushed to Edmund. She slammed against him and let out the sob that had been stuck in her throat. "You're alive! Edmund, where have you been? You must come back! We need you desperately!"

His arms came around her, but stiffly. Confused by his lack of warmth, she looked up at him. His hair was threaded with iron-grey at the temples, and a troubled look haunted his eyes. Even in the lantern light, he looked pale and weary. "Edmund, why are you not happy to see me? What is wrong?"

He raised his hand to her cheek at last, giving it a brief rub with his thumb. The corner of his mouth tilted shakily upward as if he were unused to smiling anymore. A flash of pain crossed his features. A shudder and sigh went through him, and his arms came around her fully. He held her hard, and when he spoke, his voice shook and broke. "Of course I'm happy to see you, Lu."

She sniffled and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, and he hugged her until she could scarcely breathe. She bore it as long as she could, and when she pulled back, he loosened his grip. "Edmund, everyone thinks you've turned traitor."

He flinched. She met his eyes to find him with that hard look again. "I don't," she added softly.

He let her go. "What about Peter and Susan?"

She shivered with cold and delayed shock. Edmund crossed the floor to his bunk and pulled the blanket from it to wrap around her.

Searching for words, looking around the cabin as if it could provide them, she said, "They haven't said much ... but they worry about you. Susan's not certain you're even alive. Peter ..." How to explain Peter? Peter, who was closest to Ed, and who felt so betrayed, who barely spoke of Edmund. Peter, who hurt worse than any of them (even though he never said it, Lucy knew) because Edmund's support had always been there when the High King faltered. "He's very angry, Edmund. He thinks you've abandoned ..." Him. "... Narnia."

Ed nodded. "Good."

Hot tears trickled down her salt-stiff cheeks. "How can you say that? I left them to find you! To bring you home!"

"I can't go, Lucy. I wrote to you. I told you why."

"For Asha? Is this all to find her a cure? Edmund! What's happened to you?"

He approached her and laid his hands on her shoulders. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. "Lucy, Asha is in Selbaran. She is an hour's walk from the Well of Opals, the best possible cure for a dryad. Why would I need to find another?"

Lucy's mouth fell open. "You were trying to get a message past the spies to me." Hope dashed aside the months of anxiety she'd felt looking at his empty throne. "Then, there's a reason you've been gone. A mission."

"What's done is done," he quoted. "When is the last time you heard someone say that?"

"Aslan," she said. "The day they rescued you from the White Witch. 'What's done is done,' he said. 'There is no need to speak to Edmund about what is past.'" A thrill of understanding went through her. "He knew! He knew this would come to be, and that's what you talked about that day! Edmund, you must tell me everything." She hugged him tight, and the tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked. "Oh, Ed, I should have known, I should have understood!"

He hugged her back, so hard she thought her ribs might crack. "You believed, Lu," he said hoarsely, "and that's better."