With Courage [King Caspian X OC]

Chapter 12

This is my longest chapter yet at 5,300+ words!!! Let's GO

After two solid weeks of being thrown around the ship like a ragdoll in the hand of an overly enthusiastic toddler, the storm eases.

It's a slow process, so slow that we all doubt that what we're seeing is real, chalking it up to a collective hallucination brought on by the desperation which had been scratching our bones and nipping our skin until it's all we knew. At the first ray of sunshine several of us were ready to cry. When the rain stopped falling, many of us did. Then finally, with our hearts in our throats and limbs practically shaking with relief, the clouds parted, and we were free.

We cheered and we cried and even Drinian walked around with a grin stretching new lines across his weathered face, but when it came to celebrating properly – a stew and plenty of rum – we were out of luck. The empty shelves in the pantry were enough to dampen any victory.

Six days left.

In a way, the storm had been helping the situation. It served as a distraction for the entire crew but now with that tension lifted, all anybody could think about was their empty stomachs and the distinct lack of the blue star in the sky and land on the horizon. Caspian, though he had been eating more and regaining his colour, was becoming harder to persuade as time went on and has been starting to slip.

Every morning I, and I imagine the rest of the crew did as well, prayed to see land when emerging onto the deck. On the third day post-storm, that prayer was answered.

It was a gloriously sunny day, water nymphs gleefully skipping waves alongside the ship, their waving hands throwing tangles of light across the windows when the sunlight hit them, and even the typical crisp ocean air wasn't enough to stop the summer-worthy heat that basked down upon us. Boots off and sleeves rolled up, it took the edge off our impending doom for a magnificent moment.

For a change, I decided to sit on top of one of the boxes on deck rather than wedge myself behind them, leaning back against the wall with my sketchbook on crossed legs, drawing Lucy who sat admiring the view in front of me. It was ridiculous that I had never asked for her stories before. Having reigned as Queen of Narnia for over a decade, she had so many. I had heard a few second-hand from Caspian, but her tales of their Golden Age were incomparable, and the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of them made for a lively sketch. With her head tilted towards the sky and the sunlight beaming down in return, grin stretched wide and hair blowing gently – it may be my favourite piece yet.

We stayed at the edge of the ship talking long after I had finished, soon joined by Edmund and Marco who jumped at the opportunity to tell their own tales. The nostalgia and longing in their eyes, reminders of simpler days and more enthralling adventures, gave my jealously the strength to crack its knuckles and prepare to take the reins over my mind, but the sheer contentment I felt at just being here – existing with them – was enough to quell it for now. The mere fact that I was here, experiencing this, that it wasn't just a hopeful dream or fantasy to distract me from reality and I had really come here and survived slave traders and storms and learned to fight and made friends was completely and utterly enough.

An enthusiastic cry sounded from the crow's nest. "LAND, HO!" Marco cut off from his story about breaking his leg at 14 (it involved a tree, an anvil and a few tricky fairies) to lean over me and out to the sea.

And there it was, our dream come true. The barest strip of land, easily covered by my thumb if held upright, but it was more than enough. Marco and Edmund, along with many of the men on deck, scrabbled to the rowers to help get us there faster but not before Caspian hastened to the deck to see it for himself. The smile that broke out across his face when his eyes locked onto the distant shadow only made the moment better.