31 - Fight And Flight
"I hate to flyyyyyyy!" Van shouted, clinging to the handles on the dragon's yoke.
The beast gave a long, low laugh. "Too bad I don't." He surged still higher, his great leathery wings lifting them through the air with rhythmic whooshes. Wind whistled through Van's hair and tugged at the tricorne hat jammed onto his head. He stole a look at the water far below. The dragon could drop him, and he'd splatter into pieces like an overripe melon.
Back to business! he reminded himself frantically. Crew had scattered the moment they exploded from belowdecks. Once they understood what had happened, they ran for a gun turret on the ship's bow.
"Get behind the sails!" Van shouted. "They're gonna shoot!" But the dragon flew straight at the turret, which spun toward them. Van flattened himself against the dragon's back with a groan of resignation.
The turret spat crossbow bolts one after another. Van swore and ducked closer to the dragon's body, then realized the beast was losing altitude. "What are you doing?" he screamed. He had jammed his cheek against the dragon's neck. Its hide stank even in the wind. Then he realized every one of the missiles bounced off the dragon's hide without once piercing it. Even one that should have torn a hole in the dragon's wing merely skidded off and fell into the ocean.
There was an enormous sucking sound, like a bellows gulping air. And then, whoosh. Fire poured from the dragon's mouth, so hot that Van's face burned. The front of the ship burst into flame. The screams of the crew could be heard as they descended.
The dragon landed on the ship's bow, sucked air again, and roared so loud Van's ears rang. He spat fireballs, fwoosh-fwoosh, and watched the men scamper like a cat toying with prey. His chest rumbled deeply. "That wasssss sssssatisssssfying. And now." He jumped, and the ship rocked and creaked so loud Van thought the bow would shatter.
More missiles fired at them—crossbows, axes, arrows, even hammers and winches pulled from ship's work. Nothing harmed the dragon. The crew fired again, closer and closer to Van on the dragon's back.
From the air, Arrow and Quill swooped down, striking men too slow to escape with claws and sharp hooves. The dragon snapped at a Calormene sailor, then stomped forward and swallowed the man whole. Then another, and another. Van grimaced and thanked his luck that it wasn't him.
And then a shrill, ferocious shout—the White Witch. "The eyes, you fools! Aim for its eyes!"
A sailor aimed a bow and arrow at the dragon's head. The shot whizzed past, too close. He aimed again.
From out of nowhere, a hag gave a rattling hiss that surged down Van's spine. A bolt of white light shot from her hand and struck the sailor. The hapless man flew backward and slammed against a barrel, then went still.
Yaré.
A shout of relief stuck in Van's throat, but before he could release it, the White Witch pulled something from her skirts—a wand. She pointed it at the hag, and in a flash, Yaré was lost in a splash of water. "No!" Van screamed.
The Witch pointed her wand at Van. His throat went dry.
The dragon spewed flame again. The Witch was forced to dart aside, her concentration broken. The beast snapped at the crew, then stomped across the deck toward the Witch.
Edmund sprang into the dragon's path with a wicked-looking crossbow in his hands. The dragon growled and lunged.
"No!" Van shouted, pulling back on the yoke handles even as he doubted it would make a difference. "Not him!"
The dragon growled louder. "You sssssaid anything."
"Not him!" Van repeated. Edmund fired the crossbow, and the bolt whistled past the dragon's head. "Get him up here!"
Another growl, this time clearly one of derision. "Humansssss." He opened his jaws and lunged toward Edmund. For a moment, Van thought the dragon would ignore him and eat Edmund—but the beast clamped its teeth over the crossbow and flung Ed into the air just as he'd done with Van.
Ed gave a shout of surprise and landed on the dragon's back behind Van. He slipped backward, and Van just managed to grab his arm. "What is this?" Ed shouted.
"Our getaway," Van panted. "Let's go!" he shouted.
"No! Put me down!" yelled Edmund, but the dragon launched itself into the air again, this time over the mainsail, where it clawed a long slash through the sheet. It soared over the ship and into the air, out of range of the weapons. Arrow and Quill followed.
"Get off that thing's back!" Arrow called. "Slide! I'll catch you!"
The dragon hissed at the griffin, but otherwise ignored it, flapping toward the east. "No, this way!" Van called, tugging on the yoke handles. "West! We need to find our ship, The Phoenix!"
Another hiss. "You're awfully demanding, for a sssssnack."
"Land us there, and you can go anywhere you like after that," Van called.
"I can go anywhere I like now," the dragon rumbled.
Van glared in the beast's one eye. "You'd all three still be stuck in that stinkhole at the bottom of her ship if it weren't for me! And Yaré—she died for this!"
"Who, the hag?" the dragon said.
"Yes, the hag! She was ..." He paused, then added, softer, "... my friend."
The dragon gave a long, thoughtful rumble. "Ssssstrange company you keep." But he swooped westward.
"And getting stranger," Van snapped.
"You have to send me back," Edmund called.
Van arched around. "You're cracked! I'm not going anywhere near that Witch again!"
"I had it under control!" Ed shouted.
"Control! You call chumming around with that Witch control?"
"I was getting her away from The Phoenix, you idiot! Now she's going to give chase!"
And then Van understood. His jaw fell open. Shaking out of his astonishment, he slapped the dragon's shoulder. "How fast are you?"
Deep laughter rumbled through the dragon's body. "Now you're ssssstarting to think like a dragon." He pumped his wings and shot forward through the sky.
Edmund and Van gave involuntary screams, and Quill and Arrow raced through the air after them, westward. Van's hat blew off his head and tumbled into the ocean.
- # -
Lucy had spent the better part of the past week looking behind The Phoenix for the Witch's ships, or ahead, where once they reached it, she expected to see nothing left on the sea cliff where Cair perched. They had met no resistance as they and the Selbarani ships traveled toward Narnia. Indeed, it seemed nothing could catch them, and she began to see how Edmund had managed his year-long raid on the sea.
The lookout in the crow's nest called out, and Lucy rushed to the bow with her spyglass.
Her heart shot into her throat as she saw what the lookout had seen. Far ahead of them was the coast of Narnia. The sky overhead was black with smoke.
Susan. Saris. Cori. Peter. Aidan. Oh, Susan's baby! Lucy stifled a cry of anguish and spun around, looking skyward. They had seen no sign of Arrow—or Vandelar—since leaving them where they'd encountered the Witch's forces. And even now, the only thing interrupting the pale-grey sky was the darker black of that smoke. As The Phoenix drew closer to Narnia's shore, Lucy saw four Calormene ships anchored near the beach and pier. Even from this distance, she could see the signs of battle.
Her stomach ached. Was she ready to handle this, all alone?
She had no choice. Edmund was gone. Van was gone. Aslan himself had given her no sign of how to proceed.
She took a deep breath and sought the quiet deep within, past all her doubts and all the noise of everything that had happened since she first stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia.
And there, she found the same warmth she had always felt in the Lion's presence. Courage, dear one, whispered a voice.
She lifted her right hand, then traced the etching of a sunrise burned into her palm. Warmth poured into her and washed away her fear. She raised her head. "Ready the cannons."