11 - Lucy In Battle
"He's suspicious," Arrow said once they were out of earshot. "I don't like it, Your Majesty."
"If Van's been with Edmund all this time, and not wondered about Ed's loyalties until now, Ed must have been doing something right," Lucy called back as they soared through the air. "Or maybe you're just put out because I was right and we did find Edmund after all?"
The griffin harrumphed and turned his head long enough to fix a yellow eye on her. "All right, you've had your I told you so."
Lucy giggled.
"I don't know how you're so cheerful. We're about to get shot at," Arrow said.
"I have faith in you," she said, patting his shoulder.
They passed over the Selbarani ship, and with relief, Lucy saw the dryad make it to the deck. Selbarani dryads circled her. She'd get better now. Thank you, Aslan, for watching over her. Now, if you can just grant us a little speed...
They approached the Calormene ship. Even at this height, Lucy heard their shouts. She reached to her belt for her cordial dagger.
Far below, she heard a thwack, and a moment later, Arrow swerved in midair. Lucy yelped and grabbed for the harness, and her dagger slipped from her fingers. "My knife!"
The griffin dove. The ship's deck loomed up at an alarming rate. Lucy clutched the harness with a mental thank-you to Ed for being at least as stubborn as she was. Arrow chased the flashing, tumbling knife—the knife Father Christmas gave her, the knife that had been with her through all her Narnian adventures, the knife that was about to be lost at the bottom of the ocean. Or to a Calormene. Arrow stretched out his claws and just missed the knife as another thwack preceded a crossbow bolt zinging past Lucy's head.
She heard voices now, saw faces. A young man looked up from the deck, and Lucy gasped at the resemblance to Rabadash. He shouted, and another crossbow bolt whipped past them, shearing off a fluff of feathers in its wake. "Watch out!"
The griffin reached again. They were almost at mast height now, too far out of the sun. The Calormenes scattered for weapons. One raced for a platform on the ship's deck, which held a large crossbow. A repeating one. Roman in design—no mistake. Except that it looked an awful lot like...
Lucy held her breath, wide-eyed, as the sailor leaped behind the artillery and swiveled it toward her.
...a World War II gun turret.
"Arrow!" she screamed. "Up, up!"
Arrow snarled. "Almost ..."
He strained forward and clapped his claws together over the falling blade. The snap of his opening wings made Lucy's ears ring, and she slammed against his body as they shot back upward. Calormenes shouted, and then thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack, crossbow bolts pelted through the air all around them. Lucy yelped and ducked against Arrow's ruffed neck as they rolled in midair to avoid the missiles.
"Catch!" Arrow called. He tossed the blade, and for one hopeful second, she saw the lion-headed hilt suspended in the air, flashing in the sun. Lucy snatched it, trembling, her heart hammering at her ribcage, and slashed it through the first leather pouch on the harness. Coins fell, glittering.
From the corner of her eye, Lucy saw the gun turret rounding toward them again. "Fly, Arrow, fly!"
Another round of bolts flung past them. Arrow grunted and rushed upward, plastering Lucy against his neck. She risked a look back amid the flying projectiles. The ship's captain was ordering sailors in all directions, and the ship's sails billowed through a turn to port. "It's working!" she cried. "They're following!"
"Then we better get back to The Phoenix first," Arrow panted.
He pumped his wings twice, three times, four, hurtling them through the air until Lucy's eyes teared with the wind. Goggles, she thought absurdly, picturing a World War II bomber in flight gear. Already she saw how poorly designed her heavy, double-layered leather vest and leggings were for flying. Fine ground armor, but in the air, too stiff, too cumbersome, even for leather. No maneuverability, no visibility in sun or wind. Her long hair dragged at the air currents. What a mistake. Cloth would have been better, braids—
The Phoenix loomed below them. Ed waved them down. Beside him stood Van, with his sai in his belt and a look of sudden alarm on his face as he stared at them.
What's wrong? Lucy wondered, then Arrow gasped and crumpled in midair. She shrieked as the deck rushed up and she fell away from Arrow's back. She plunged downward and slammed right into Van.
They smashed to the deck and rolled over and over, finally landing in a pile of nets. Lucy came to a stop sprawled out on top of him, straining for breath as he grinned up at her. "Thanks for the soft landing."
His grin shifted to an affronted scowl. "Soft?"
Running footsteps echoed along the deck boards. "Are you hurt?" Ed called.
"Fine," Lucy panted. "But we're about to have company."
Ed helped her up, and then Van. She turned, searching for Arrow, and found him lying in a heap at the bow. She ran to him and found his flank a bloody mess. A feathered crossbow bolt protruded from his haunch. She moaned. "Oh, no, Arrow—"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," the griffin said, righting himself where he lay with ginger motions. "Pinches like a demon. It's under the skin but not in muscle. Glanced off my haunch." He arched around and clamped his beak over the shaft. With a grunt and a yank, he pulled the bolt free. He spat the bloody bolt onto the deck. "Thought for a moment I might follow in Rook's wingbeats. What was that thing that fired at us so fast?"
"A gun turret," Lucy said as Edmund and Van approached.
Ed's eyes went wide. "There's why the Witch has been going from world to world. To copy artillery, as well as for funds."
"Hold on," Van murmured, anger flashing in his eyes. "We're drawing Calormene fire. Allies, to Jadis of Charn." He glared at Lucy. "You're flying a griffin like you've done it half your life." Then he turned his scowl on Edmund. "And the dryad was looking at you like she wanted to fall at your feet. Who in Underland are you people?"
"I'll explain all," Edmund said soberly, meeting his first mate's gaze. "After we escape."