Author: Sam

Story: The Butterfly Effect: 6 of 7

Series: One Little Change

Characters Intro'd: Captain Drinian; Farpo

“What signal shall I use to call the Dawn Treader?” Lord Bern, while not able to access King Caspian’s horn, still produced a horn. And though Drinian would not recognize the horn’s sound, he was sure to recognize the signal pattern and put in to land in the long boat to find out just what had occurred to cause Caspian to summon him… and with a lesser horn.

Edmund, familiar with Narnian sailing signals from his days aboard the Splendour Hyaline in the long ago Golden Age, held his hand out and said, “By your leave, Your Lordship. It is perhaps easier if I signal the ship than to attempt to teach you the signals.” Receiving the horn, and a slight bow from Lord Bern, Edmund brought the horn to his lips and winded it, eliciting a strong yet merry sound from the horn.

Quickly, as the foursome noticed, the ship made for shore. Once close enough, the long boat put out with several men on board. Upon reaching the shore, Captain Drinian himself stepped from the gently rocking vessel, his eyes searching the small group for his master. With a frown, he turned concerned eyes on Edmund. “King Edmund, where is King Caspian? Is he not walking this isle with Your Graces?”

Surprise lit Bern’s face at this newest revelation; he’d had no idea the three children he’d liberated from Pug were royalty.

With a serious air, Edmund replied, “We were taken by slave dealers and separated.” He lifted a hand to forestall the Captain’s further questions. “Reepicheep is with Caspian and, last told, they were among allies. This is Lord Bern, whom the King seeks, and it is by his counsel we will yet avenge the insult upon our King and our persons.”

“By my counsel, Your Majesty,” Bern bowed politely to Edmund then to Drinian, “I would have you sail around to my own estate of Bernstead. Place as many men on the fighting top as may be spared, dressed fully for war, hang out the shields, and raise the King’s banner high. When at Bernstead, do you run up a few signals for all to see and read.”

Captain Drinian frowned again, hands resting on his wide belt, his body rocking slightly as men are want to do after spending a great deal of time on the sea and newly arriving on land. “We are but one ship with perhaps thirty swords, My Lord. To whom will we signal?”

“Why, to all the other ships you haven’t got!” Bern grinned widely. “Pug, the slaver, is fixed nicely here and Gumpus, the Governor, receives a handsome tithe to look the other way. If Gumpus thinks you come well-manned and well-armed, he will do nothing foolish but will watch and bide his time until he knows his footing better. Let him but realize that you are but one ship with,” here he nodded to Edmund, “one ship’s crew, and he will pay homage to the King in word and have use murdered in our beds in sleep. Pug, too, has many friends who will surely come to his rescue if we should challenge him alone.”

The Captain nodded at such logic, then asked softly, “I thought you said the King and Sir Reepicheep were in safe hands, My Lord? Why should we not retrieve them then send back to Narnia for a proper fleet to put a stop to this vile trade in men?”

Here Edmund interjected. “The sooner we can take them, the more surprise will be on our side. If we wait, they will surely move their victims and arm themselves. Risking a fortified, prepared enemy is all well and good, but when his slaves and prisoners are hidden away or sold cheaply to cruel masters merely to move them out of our reach...” the former King shook his head, a fierce look coming to his young face, “I agree with Lord Bern. We make a big show of strength and address the Governor about the degradation in the Lone Islands.”

It was quite obvious that Captain Drinian understood the reasoning well, and what’s more, he agreed with it. Nodding firmly, he asked “And what should I signal, Your Majesty?” The sailor held Edmund’s eyes, “Entire fleet sail around the south of Avra to meet at Bernstead?” His actions made it quite clear that he considered the Golden Age King in charge while his own master was elsewhere.

A glare from Eustace, though, let everyone who cared to notice know that the boy hated the deferential treatment his cousin received.

Not missing a beat, and pointedly ignoring Eustace’s sour look, Edmund turned to Lord Bern. The man didn’t disappoint. “It would hide the journey of the entire fleet from Narrow Haven, if there really was a fleet.”

“Yes,” Edmund nodded. “Captain Drinian, unless you see some fault with this course, I bid you please do as the good Lord Bern suggests. While you await the fleet, so to speak, at Bernstead, we can be off to Killian’s to retrieve the King and Reepicheep.”

Lucy finally spoke up. “Oh, do let’s! I see that Lord Bern trusts his man, but I’ll feel ever so much better knowing Caspian and Reepicheep are safely with us again.” Their plans had brought the courage back to Lucy’s heart.

Drinian nodded, discussed a few more minor details with Bern and Edmund, then left, heading back to the Dawn Treader in order to carry out his part in the retaking of the Lone Islands. After the long boat had once more joined the Dawn Treader, the three children found themselves turning to Lord Bern for further instruction.

Bern nodded firmly. “Well now, I see you weren’t lying to me, Your Graces, and sorry I am that I doubted you. But by Your Grace’s leave, if we may immediately be off to Killian’s house, we can once more reunite with our good King Caspian.”

“Yes; where is it?” Lucy beamed up at the tall Lord, her steps lighter than they had been since first setting eyes on Pug and his men.”

“Why, down the lane behind us, a few miles along and at the top of the hill the lane ends on.” Bern gestured with his hand to a road none of the children had yet noticed. It was little more than a cart track, but the rutted dirt cut clearly through the thick grass. The sight of the path brought a bit of cheer, for here lay a definite direction to take, and one never feels quite so good in a strange land as when one has a clear route to lead the way.

Thus, the little party began their walk up the long road to Killian... and Caspian.

As Caspian followed Tril into the pantry, really no more than a dark cellar under the kitchen, and received instruction on just which items to move from which shelves, his mind raced over the problem at hand. His friends were being sold to who knew which Calormene while he was trapped at this house trying not to arouse the suspicions of Pug’s spy. How could he get a message to his ship, rescue his friends, and free the Lone Islands of this heinous slave trade? It was a situation not easily remedied, and Caspian was fairly sure that the best solution would be to contact Lord Bern and gain his assistance. However, that solution wouldn’t be easy to meet, either.

Tril took only a few minutes to instruct him in the fairly useless-seeming shifting of foodstuffs before informing him, “Pug holds a goodly amount of sway with Governor Gumpus. He, too, has numerous friends, pirates and fellow slavers, who will not hesitate to rush to his rescue if they think he or their business, is in trouble. Gumpus will side with the money, as well, and that means Pug’s kind.” With a soft sigh, his neutral expression turning briefly to one of frustrated disgust, the older boy went on. “Pug and his friends can, and will, end any hope that you, your friends, or your ship and crew have of getting out of here unscathed if they feel their business is threatened. This is a very delicate situation.” It was perhaps the longest speech that Caspian could ever expect from the other youth.

Thus, while Caspian awaited a meeting with Lorn Bern, which Tril said he would arrange before hurrying up the stairs, the King needed to work at alleviating the suspicions of Pug’s spy, if he could figure out which one it was. Caspian also need to gain Killian’s help in recovering his friends and sending a message to Drinian aboard the Dawn Treader. Fortunately, that chance came within minutes of Tril disappearing through the cellar door.

A sound of jingling metal and of footsteps on the wooden steps drew Caspian out of his reverie. A plainly dressed man with a disinterested expression and a handful of keys stopped halfway down the stairs. “You there, Boy; there’s real work to do. Come here.” Caspian recognized the man as one of the four who’d rounded the edge of the house earlier when he’d been talking with Tril in the garden.

Not arguing, as a slave or even a servant wouldn’t be permitted such liberties, the King straightened and silently followed the man up to the kitchen. Killian and Reepicheep, apparently using a knife to chop vegetables on the table, turned to watch the proceedings, though neither interfered, as yet.

With a slight bow of acknowledgement to Killian, and ignoring the Mouse with the knife, the man turned to Caspian. “Tril’s gone to town and we need firewood.”

The statement hung in the air all of a minute before the over-large Killian made a deep noise in his throat which could have been a growl or a laugh. With a nod, the master of the house looked over his newest servant. “If you’re well enough, Lad, it’s a job what does need doing.” Glancing over at the other man, he added, “I’ll bring him out and teach him, Farpo.”

A long pause followed the man’s words. Caspian wondered if Farpo would protest, but finally he nodded and stepped out of the way of the door.

Killian reached into a cabinet, in no apparent hurry, and searched around a long moment. He pulled out a thick strip of leather. Stepping over to Caspian’s side, he wrapped the leather around Caspian’s neck, over the bandaging, and fastened it using a pin he removed from his shirt collar. With a satisfied nod, he said, “There; that’ll keep your bandage in place and remind you.” Killian didn’t explain what he expected the collar to remind Caspian of, but the King suspected Killian had meant the statement more to convince Farpo that it was a reminder of Caspian’s servitude.

Reepicheep piped up. “Shall I assist him, Killian?”

‘Clever Reep,’ thought Caspian. ‘He remembered not to give us away by asking me.’

“Yes, come along and you can look for kindling and the like.” With another nod, the large man led both Caspian and Reepicheep outside, leaving Farpo standing in the kitchen, staring after them with a frown. Killian led the pair around the house, to the opposite side of the structure from where the garden lay. Once there, he quickly pointed out where the Mouse could look for his kindling, further around towards the back of the house. Once Reepicheep was busy with his task and fairly out of sight unless one knew where to look for the small creature, yet still close enough to aid Caspian should he need it, Killian turned to the King.

Looking over Caspian then the neatly stacked wood, the man smiled. “I’ll show you, quick-like, what to do. You’ll catch on quick, but just you be careful. It can be dangerous work.” His motions sure and quick, Killian displayed how to settle the log on end, set the wedge, split the log using the wedge and a sledgehammer, and even how to split the smaller pieces further with an axe. Finally, after observing Caspian splitting a couple of logs, he nodded and walked back inside.

For his part, Caspian was no stranger to hard work. It had been three years since he’d been crowned, but he still recalled the hard days fighting for his kingdom and the equally hard months rebuilding it afterward. After only three logs, Caspian determined that his clothing was too restrictive and he stripped down to his breeches, hanging the stripped clothing on the nearby fencing.

It didn’t take too long to establish a rhythm, though the future held the threat of blisters for the young King.br>