Unquenchable Fire
Unquenchable fire
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor spoilers for The Chronicles of Narnia and the Temeraire books by N. Novik.\
Eustace Scrubb, Lucy Pevensie
3,400 words
AU/Crossover
For good or for ill, air mastery is today the supreme expression of military power and fleets and armies, however vital and important, must accept a subordinate rank.
Winston Churchill
If the Almighty were to rebuild the world and asked me for advice, I would have English Channels round every country. And the atmosphere would be such that anything which attempted to fly would be set on fire.
Winston Churchill
00OO00
Eustace crept about the Scrubb household as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake his cousins, Edmund and Lucy, who were, even a week later, still sleeping off their voyage on the Dawn Treader. By all rights, Eustace should be sleeping himself but the posters he had seen in town made it impossible. He just couldn’t stay in bed.
He didn’t need to worry about waking his parents. Harold and Alberta had been off since the day before at some faddish hot springs-mud bath-elixir-for-the-nerves nonsense, so there would be no scolding from them. Alberta had been forcing Chinese herbs and cod liver oil down his throat all week concerned that something terrible had happened to his health and disposition. On the advice of his cousins, Eustace had not told his mother that the reason for the change was a journey through a picture to a magical land with Kings and Talking Rats and where he had sailed on a sweet sea of lilies to the end of a flat world.
Eustace also didn’t mention that part about turning from a dragon in spirit, to a real dragon, to finally a boy who was just dragonish sometimes. Tonics and homeopathies couldn't change it. This was a cure that was permanent and the effort was to keep his parents and everything around him from turning him back into the beast he had been. He mentally winced and corrected himself. It wasn't polite to call things “beasts” since the Beasts of Narnia talked.
The part that was still dragon wanted a rasher of bacon for breakfast. There was no meat in the Scrubbs’ vegetarian household so he grabbed a carrot in the pantry and tip-toed out the back door.
“Thought you’d escape without me?” a girl’s voice sang.
Eustace looked up, squinting in the bright sun, and saw his cousin perched on top of the garden wall. “Good morning, Lucy.”
Lucy hopped down. “I’ve seen those posters just as you have, Eustace. You should have said something.”
He shrugged. “Carrot?”
Lucy took a bite and handed it back. They started walking.
The signs were up on every lamppost leading into Cambridge. It was a big day for the British services so there were recruitment posters for the Tank Corps, the Infantry, the Navy, the WRENS, Land Army, Signal Corp, Sappers, and so many others. Even the auxiliary fire service was recruiting, though the fires hadn’t been so bad since the Blitz ended. The only ones Eustace had eyes for were the Aerial Corps, the RAF. Lucy’s hand trailed over the WAAF poster tacked to a fence - the women recruited for the vital Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.
It got more crowded, even for an early Friday morning, as they entered the town centre. There were lorries and people with string bags and baskets queuing up at all the shops. Members of the Home Guard were bicycling about in their tin hats. Men and women in the uniforms for the services were handing out pamphlets and trying to get volunteers to sign up.
A shadow fell on them and they both looked up at the overflight. With the golden underside and wing shape, Eustace thought it was an Anglewing. He’d paid the Corps absolutely no mind at all a week ago. Since returning from Narnia, he’d read every book on the subject. He was absolutely mad on it.
“Where do you suppose they are?” Eustace asked. The Aerial Corps couldn’t be on just any common Cambridge street corner.
“Let’s try Parker’s Piece!” Lucy said decisively. “It’s the closest green common.”
“Or maybe Midsummer Common if they aren’t there,” Eustace said. That one was a bit rougher.
They hoofed it a few streets and the nervous people going in the opposite direction told them they’d guessed right.
Even desperately wanting to do this, even knowing that he had nothing to fear, and having a very, very healthy respect, it was awe-inspiring when Eustace finally saw them so close.
Lucy grabbed his hand. Hers was trembling a little, too. “Oh!” she breathed. “That big blue one! Do you suppose…”
“No question,” Eustace whispered back. “Longwing. Acid spitter. And they only take females as captains.”
A small puff of steam rose from the reddish spines of the other and Eustace felt his breath catch in his chest.
Lucy squeaked and clutched his hand more tightly. “Eustace! Did you see that?”
He didn’t know why they were whispering. It was rude. “Yes,” he said in as firm and normal a voice as he could manage. “That one is a Fire breather. Probably British-bred Kazilik or maybe from French or Spanish stock.”
They had seen them throughout the War, of course, these great heroes of the Battle of Britain. Never had so many owed so much to so few as PM Churchill had said - the men and women of the Aerial Corps and their mounts. But seeing a little Winchester spotter or a huge Regal Copper bomber overhead, or even watching from a distance a whole flying formation was nothing to seeing two of them reclining on a Cambridge common while their captains attempted to recruit brave souls for the RAF - men and women willing to defend Britain aboard a dragon.
He had thought of nothing but this moment since returning from Narnia - the opportunity to meet and talk with a dragon, a real, proper, civilized dragon. Not that dumb, savage beast he had been. But now Eustace found himself tongue-tied.
Feeling his sudden embarrassment, Lucy smiled with understanding, pulled her hand out of his and waved. “Hullo! Good morning, Friend Dragons!” She was reverting to Narnia-style speech, but that was very understandable given the situation. “Do you mind if we approach and speak with you?”
The Fire breather raised her - no, Eustace thought it was a he -- his head. He exhaled and steam blew from his nostrils. “Look at that, Triaria!” The voice was definitely masculine. “Someone sent us breakfast!”
Triaria, the Longwing, shook her head. “Pay Volkan no mind. Please, do come forward.” The Longwing was female and spoke in a cultured voice and precise accent. With the spurs in her lower jaw that dripped corrosive acid, Eustace was very glad the Longwing’s head was level and up. “My captain will likely be some time and as you can see, Volkan is old, grumpy, and poor company.”
More steam spurted from Volkan’s spines and he lashed his tail, sending clods of grass and dirt into the air.
Lucy giggled. “He acts like you did sometimes, Eustace!”
They walked closer. Eustace heard someone shout behind him, “Oi! You there! Stay away!”
Angry, he whirled about. “Oi! You there!” he mimicked back. “Don’t be an idiot and mind your own business!”
Really.. These were British dragons who had served in the Corps for centuries. They weren’t wild animals. And even that threat didn’t seem especially compelling to Eustace anymore. Aslan wasn’t a tame Lion, either.
He turned back around and joined Lucy. “Sorry,” he said to the dragons.
“I am Lucy Pevensie. This is my cousin, Eustace Scrubb.”
Eustace bowed, as best he could from what he’d seen others do on the Dawn Treader. Bowing wasn’t taught at his school, the dreadful Experiment House. Lucy curtsied beautifully.
Volkan huffed. “I’ve not seen a girl do that so well in fifty years.” He turned a slitted, yellow eye at Eustace. “Your bowing could use some work.”
“Definitely,” Eustace agreed.
“I am Triaria,” the Longwing said. “Captain Betty James is my rider.”
“Volkan,” the Fire breather said. He scraped the turf with a long, sharp claw. “I let Ramsey captain me.”
It was hard to not smile at the turn of phrase but really, while dragon and Captain had to be a mutual pairing, Eustace thought Volkan had a lot to say about who he permitted on his back. Given Volkan’s obvious age, Ramsey was not his first Captain, either.
“Are you coming to join up?” Triaria asked. “You know that the Corps has a special license to recruit children if their parents sign the consent?”
“We always need some young ones to raise up as aviators,” Volkan said sullenly. A billow of steam hissed from his nostril. “My Ramsey’s not much older than you lot.”
An awkward pause followed because, with the War, Volkan could mean only one thing. He was an experienced, heavyweight dragon and a Fire breather. His Captain must have died, probably in combat, and some very young man had had to take his place unexpectedly. Most likely, it was the dead Captain’s own son or grandson and if the dragon wanted him, and a Fire breather at that, that was all there was to it. England and the dragons they all depended upon couldn’t wait for children to grow up. Dragons did their duty and the children of the Corps had to as well.
Queen Lucy the Valiant, Aslan bless her, always knew what to say and wasn’t afraid to say it, even to a sad and angry Fire breather. “We are sorry for your loss, Volkan.”
“Would you like to tell us about him?” Eustace put in tentatively. He’d learned how people who were grieving liked to talk about the dead who were important to them. He thought it would probably the same for dragons.
“No,” Volkan said stiffly, and it seemed as if some of the steam went out of him, like a balloon deflating. “But thank you.”
Triaria sympathetically nudged Volkan with her nose. She then turned to address them. “You are interested in the Corps and dragons? Do you have any questions?”
He looked at Lucy. Lucy looked at him. Why am I here?
Eustace took a deep breath. “I flew as a dragon, once. I want to do it again. And again and again, as long as I live. There is nothing grander in the world than flying and breathing fire.”
Volkan stared at him and Eustace saw that he had terrible scars across his neck and savage-looking head. It was warm being so close to him. “Hmmm. Peculiar,” the Fire breather mused.
Triaria thoughtfully tilted her head and blinked her yellow-orange eyes. “Do you see it too, Volkan?”
“Yes,” the Fire breather said. “There is something very odd about you, Scrubb.”
“You’re very draconic,” Triaria said. “Were you raised near a covert? Do you know any aviators?”
“No,” Eustace said, smiling a little in spite of himself. “I should have liked that, though.”
Lucy giggled.
“And what of you, Lucy?” Triaria asked.
“I am like Eustace, Ma’am. I should very much like to again fly on a dragon.”
“You are peculiar too, Lucy,” Triaria said. “Though not as peculiar as Scrubb.”
“May we sit with you and talk?” Lucy asked.
“I want to hear more about this Fire breather you rode before,” Volkan put in.
So, Eustace and Lucy sat on the grass of Parker’s Piece common with two dragons. As Eustace had only a poor understanding of what he had looked like, it was up to Lucy to describe his formerly draconic state. Triaria and Volkan argued at length about what sort of cross-breed with a Flamme-de-Gloire could have produced such a dragon. Regrettably, they were unable to explain to what covert the dragon had belonged or the name of his handler.
Volkan talk wistfully of his previous Captain who had died only in the last year in North Africa. With great relish, he told them of their service together in the Great War, in Palestine, and flying over Jerusalem and the defence of the Suez. Triaria was younger; she was still with her first Captain and had been hatched between the wars. That led to a very engaging discussion of the combat the dragons had seen in the last few years.
The dragons were very somber in discussing the terrible evacuation at Dunkirk and their service at the Dover covert to protect the channel from Nazi invasion. The dragons were very conscious of their duty and the tradition they upheld.
They argued over who had the right to tell the story of Napoleon’s attempt to cross the Channel using dragon-carried transports and how that offensive had been beaten back through the heroism of Lord Admiral Temeraire, the Chinese Celestial and most famous dragon of the RAF. Eustace and Lucy, of course, knew the story by heart - it was in every schoolbook. It was, however, very different and quite thrilling to hear it from the point of view of the dragons. They were overflowing in their admiration for Temeraire.
The Lord Admiral had been so infuriated by the fall of Hong Kong to the Japanese last Christmas, Temeraire had assumed command of the air war in Asia and was now working closely with the Americans. The papers had been full of his efforts at Guadalcanal to see landing fields built in the jungles for the joint Allied air forces and what looked to be a brutal island hopping campaign in the Pacific theater.
The dragons were not as guarded in their criticisms as humans were. They were both harshly critical of the disaster at Dieppe last month and felt deeply the strategic failure in not permitting bombardment of Nazi positions on the French coast. Their Dover wing should have participated but instead had been inexplicably grounded. The dragons had only been called up when it was too late and all that had been left to do was rescue the surviving Allied commandos from the beaches.
Volkan was regaling them with stories of the infamous Iskierka. He claimed an acquaintance with the Turkish Kazilik Fire breather but Eustace wasn't so sure. The stories were nearly too incredible to believe.
Triaria raised her head from the ground where she had been resting it next to Lucy. “Betty and Ramsey are coming.”
The Captains were striding across the common wearing the tough britches and boots that were their uniform; their long coats, billowed behind them. They were both carrying the distinctive helmets of the Corps. Captain Ramsey was tall and young; Captain James was very short and old enough to really be his mother which, from what Eustace had read in the reports, wasn’t out of the question among aviators.
Eustace quickly stood and gave Lucy a hand up.
“Any good prospects, Betty?” Triaria asked as the Captains joined them.
“Because we found two very good ones,” Volkan said, interrupting before Captain James could respond.
For all that he was an old, grieving dragon, Volkan rubbed Captain Ramsey so affectionately, he nearly pushed the young man off his feet.
“You threatened to eat them and they didn’t run away?” Captain Ramsey said, scratching Volkan’s face in return.
“Yes,” Volkan replied. “Quite commendable, really. Any sensible person should be terrified of me. Which means they'd do very well on dragonback.”
“In answer to your question, my dear, I think you have had better luck than we have,” Captain James said, looking them over with interest. Triaria’s Captain was a woman but Eustace had seen how Lucy carried her authority and how the crew of the Dawn Treader deferred to her, and rightly so. Captain James was obviously the senior officer. He straightened under her scrutiny even though he was taller than she.
“We have had a very pleasant morning,” Triaria replied. “May I introduce Lucy Pevensie and her cousin Eustace Scrubb? They have both flown a dragon before and were very interested in meeting and speaking with us.”
“The pleasure is ours, Captains!” Lucy said, offering her hand. His cousin was comfortable anywhere, with anything, and anybody
Eustace noticed how strong and calloused the aviators’ hands were as they all shook.
“So, you both want to leave school and home and join the Corps?” Captain James asked, stroking Triaria’s blue neck.
“I should like to very much!” Lucy cried. “My parents are away in America now, though, so I could not come right away.”
She sounded so downcast about this, Captain James put a hand on Lucy’s arm. “Budge up, Pevensie. In our experience, if a girl or boy has a passion for dragons, it doesn’t go away. Make enough of a pest of yourself, and it will happen.”
Captain James turned to him. “What about you, Scrubb?”
“Yes,” Eustace said firmly. “I want to join the Corps. More than anything. But, I don’t think my parents will sign the papers.”
Volkan snorted and Eustace took a step back as a flame flickered in his nostril. “That won't be a problem, Scrubb.”
“Why do you think Command sends a Fire breather and an Acid spitter for recruitment?” Triaria said smugly. "We can be very persuasive."
Captain James laughed. “That you can, dearest. I’m afraid your good-natured chatter reveals all our Corps secrets!”
“We won’t tell,” Lucy said very earnestly.
“Are you parents home, Scrubb?” Captain James asked, turning business-like. “Can we call on them?”
“They should be by now, yes, Captain.” He was very glad he got her title and rank right. “Ma’am” was probably fine, too, but “Captain” was definitely better.
“What do you think, Ramsey?”
“This trip is a waste otherwise,” the aviator said, putting his helmet on and adjusting his goggles. “We might as well try.”
A leather contraption was suddenly flying in his direction. Eustace was glad his Narnia reflexes were still with him and he caught it easily. “We’ll be flying, so you’ll need to put the harness on,” Captain James said. She tossed one to Lucy as well.
“So where are we going to be trying to land thirty tonnes of dragon?” Ramsey asked, adjusting Volkan’s light rig harness.
“Impington,” Eustace said, shrugging into the thing. It wasn’t that different from the harnesses they had used when scrambling about the Dawn Treader rigging. He was so elated at the prospect of flying again his hands were shaking as he adjusted the buckles.
“There’s nothing to be nervous of, Scrubb,” Volkan said. “I won’t drop you.”
“I know you won’t,” Eustace said. He should be annoyed at the dragon drawing attention to him, but Volkan didn’t know the truth. “I’m really excited to fly again, not nervous.”
“Good man!” Captain Ramsey said, slapping him between the shoulder blades. It reminded him, in a sad way, of King Caspian’s easy manners. The two men were about the same age, too.
“I don’t suppose there’s room in your parents’ garden for a dragon?” Captain James asked, moving around to check on Triaria’s harness.
“Maybe just?” Lucy said. “For one of you? If you don’t mind landing on bean poles?”
Eustace could imagine what Alberta would say about that. He didn’t care. How famous. A Longwing or a Fire breather in their Victory Garden.
Lucy was tightening the buckles of the flying harness. She would actually be more likely to have problems with the contraption than he would as Lucy had hardly ever worn one when she was climbing the Dawn Treader mast.
“You are doing that very well,” Triaria told her approvingly. “Betty, I like Lucy very much. She is not silly at all.”
“Ramsey!” Volkan said suddenly. “I want Scrubb on my crew.”
Captain Ramsey gave the dragon a clout on the shoulder. “We’ll have to see what his parents say, Volkan. You know that.”
“Oh, I’m not worried there,” Volkan said dismissively. “I’ll just come and visit them every day until they sign the consent.”
Volkan dipped his shoulder and stretched his neck, giving Eustace a shove and handhold onto his back. “Strap in, Scrubb. I’m going to show you some real flying.”
Eustace clipped his carabiner to the dragon’s harness. It would have been so much easier to have taken everyone for flights on Dragon Island if they’d had better rigging. “I say, Volkan, do you think you could find something to flame, too?”
Captain Ramsey swung up next to him. “All in?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“All clear!” Lucy called.
“Scrubb?” Captain Ramsey asked.
Eustace looked about them carefully, up and around.
“All clear!” he hollered.
Beneath him, he felt Volkan tense, his muscles coiling like a spring.
“Smallest first,” Captain James said. Lucy gave a jubilant whoop as Triaria launched herself into the air.
“Volkan, if you would,” Captain Ramsey said.
The Fire breather leaped into the Cambridge sky, taking Eustace’s heart and soul with him.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor spoilers for The Chronicles of Narnia and the Temeraire books by N. Novik.\
Eustace Scrubb, Lucy Pevensie
3,400 words
AU/Crossover
For good or for ill, air mastery is today the supreme expression of military power and fleets and armies, however vital and important, must accept a subordinate rank.
Winston Churchill
If the Almighty were to rebuild the world and asked me for advice, I would have English Channels round every country. And the atmosphere would be such that anything which attempted to fly would be set on fire.
Winston Churchill
00OO00
Eustace crept about the Scrubb household as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake his cousins, Edmund and Lucy, who were, even a week later, still sleeping off their voyage on the Dawn Treader. By all rights, Eustace should be sleeping himself but the posters he had seen in town made it impossible. He just couldn’t stay in bed.
He didn’t need to worry about waking his parents. Harold and Alberta had been off since the day before at some faddish hot springs-mud bath-elixir-for-the-nerves nonsense, so there would be no scolding from them. Alberta had been forcing Chinese herbs and cod liver oil down his throat all week concerned that something terrible had happened to his health and disposition. On the advice of his cousins, Eustace had not told his mother that the reason for the change was a journey through a picture to a magical land with Kings and Talking Rats and where he had sailed on a sweet sea of lilies to the end of a flat world.
Eustace also didn’t mention that part about turning from a dragon in spirit, to a real dragon, to finally a boy who was just dragonish sometimes. Tonics and homeopathies couldn't change it. This was a cure that was permanent and the effort was to keep his parents and everything around him from turning him back into the beast he had been. He mentally winced and corrected himself. It wasn't polite to call things “beasts” since the Beasts of Narnia talked.
The part that was still dragon wanted a rasher of bacon for breakfast. There was no meat in the Scrubbs’ vegetarian household so he grabbed a carrot in the pantry and tip-toed out the back door.
“Thought you’d escape without me?” a girl’s voice sang.
Eustace looked up, squinting in the bright sun, and saw his cousin perched on top of the garden wall. “Good morning, Lucy.”
Lucy hopped down. “I’ve seen those posters just as you have, Eustace. You should have said something.”
He shrugged. “Carrot?”
Lucy took a bite and handed it back. They started walking.
The signs were up on every lamppost leading into Cambridge. It was a big day for the British services so there were recruitment posters for the Tank Corps, the Infantry, the Navy, the WRENS, Land Army, Signal Corp, Sappers, and so many others. Even the auxiliary fire service was recruiting, though the fires hadn’t been so bad since the Blitz ended. The only ones Eustace had eyes for were the Aerial Corps, the RAF. Lucy’s hand trailed over the WAAF poster tacked to a fence - the women recruited for the vital Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.
It got more crowded, even for an early Friday morning, as they entered the town centre. There were lorries and people with string bags and baskets queuing up at all the shops. Members of the Home Guard were bicycling about in their tin hats. Men and women in the uniforms for the services were handing out pamphlets and trying to get volunteers to sign up.
A shadow fell on them and they both looked up at the overflight. With the golden underside and wing shape, Eustace thought it was an Anglewing. He’d paid the Corps absolutely no mind at all a week ago. Since returning from Narnia, he’d read every book on the subject. He was absolutely mad on it.
“Where do you suppose they are?” Eustace asked. The Aerial Corps couldn’t be on just any common Cambridge street corner.
“Let’s try Parker’s Piece!” Lucy said decisively. “It’s the closest green common.”
“Or maybe Midsummer Common if they aren’t there,” Eustace said. That one was a bit rougher.
They hoofed it a few streets and the nervous people going in the opposite direction told them they’d guessed right.
Even desperately wanting to do this, even knowing that he had nothing to fear, and having a very, very healthy respect, it was awe-inspiring when Eustace finally saw them so close.
Lucy grabbed his hand. Hers was trembling a little, too. “Oh!” she breathed. “That big blue one! Do you suppose…”
“No question,” Eustace whispered back. “Longwing. Acid spitter. And they only take females as captains.”
A small puff of steam rose from the reddish spines of the other and Eustace felt his breath catch in his chest.
Lucy squeaked and clutched his hand more tightly. “Eustace! Did you see that?”
He didn’t know why they were whispering. It was rude. “Yes,” he said in as firm and normal a voice as he could manage. “That one is a Fire breather. Probably British-bred Kazilik or maybe from French or Spanish stock.”
They had seen them throughout the War, of course, these great heroes of the Battle of Britain. Never had so many owed so much to so few as PM Churchill had said - the men and women of the Aerial Corps and their mounts. But seeing a little Winchester spotter or a huge Regal Copper bomber overhead, or even watching from a distance a whole flying formation was nothing to seeing two of them reclining on a Cambridge common while their captains attempted to recruit brave souls for the RAF - men and women willing to defend Britain aboard a dragon.
He had thought of nothing but this moment since returning from Narnia - the opportunity to meet and talk with a dragon, a real, proper, civilized dragon. Not that dumb, savage beast he had been. But now Eustace found himself tongue-tied.
Feeling his sudden embarrassment, Lucy smiled with understanding, pulled her hand out of his and waved. “Hullo! Good morning, Friend Dragons!” She was reverting to Narnia-style speech, but that was very understandable given the situation. “Do you mind if we approach and speak with you?”
The Fire breather raised her - no, Eustace thought it was a he -- his head. He exhaled and steam blew from his nostrils. “Look at that, Triaria!” The voice was definitely masculine. “Someone sent us breakfast!”
Triaria, the Longwing, shook her head. “Pay Volkan no mind. Please, do come forward.” The Longwing was female and spoke in a cultured voice and precise accent. With the spurs in her lower jaw that dripped corrosive acid, Eustace was very glad the Longwing’s head was level and up. “My captain will likely be some time and as you can see, Volkan is old, grumpy, and poor company.”
More steam spurted from Volkan’s spines and he lashed his tail, sending clods of grass and dirt into the air.
Lucy giggled. “He acts like you did sometimes, Eustace!”
They walked closer. Eustace heard someone shout behind him, “Oi! You there! Stay away!”
Angry, he whirled about. “Oi! You there!” he mimicked back. “Don’t be an idiot and mind your own business!”
Really.. These were British dragons who had served in the Corps for centuries. They weren’t wild animals. And even that threat didn’t seem especially compelling to Eustace anymore. Aslan wasn’t a tame Lion, either.
He turned back around and joined Lucy. “Sorry,” he said to the dragons.
“I am Lucy Pevensie. This is my cousin, Eustace Scrubb.”
Eustace bowed, as best he could from what he’d seen others do on the Dawn Treader. Bowing wasn’t taught at his school, the dreadful Experiment House. Lucy curtsied beautifully.
Volkan huffed. “I’ve not seen a girl do that so well in fifty years.” He turned a slitted, yellow eye at Eustace. “Your bowing could use some work.”
“Definitely,” Eustace agreed.
“I am Triaria,” the Longwing said. “Captain Betty James is my rider.”
“Volkan,” the Fire breather said. He scraped the turf with a long, sharp claw. “I let Ramsey captain me.”
It was hard to not smile at the turn of phrase but really, while dragon and Captain had to be a mutual pairing, Eustace thought Volkan had a lot to say about who he permitted on his back. Given Volkan’s obvious age, Ramsey was not his first Captain, either.
“Are you coming to join up?” Triaria asked. “You know that the Corps has a special license to recruit children if their parents sign the consent?”
“We always need some young ones to raise up as aviators,” Volkan said sullenly. A billow of steam hissed from his nostril. “My Ramsey’s not much older than you lot.”
An awkward pause followed because, with the War, Volkan could mean only one thing. He was an experienced, heavyweight dragon and a Fire breather. His Captain must have died, probably in combat, and some very young man had had to take his place unexpectedly. Most likely, it was the dead Captain’s own son or grandson and if the dragon wanted him, and a Fire breather at that, that was all there was to it. England and the dragons they all depended upon couldn’t wait for children to grow up. Dragons did their duty and the children of the Corps had to as well.
Queen Lucy the Valiant, Aslan bless her, always knew what to say and wasn’t afraid to say it, even to a sad and angry Fire breather. “We are sorry for your loss, Volkan.”
“Would you like to tell us about him?” Eustace put in tentatively. He’d learned how people who were grieving liked to talk about the dead who were important to them. He thought it would probably the same for dragons.
“No,” Volkan said stiffly, and it seemed as if some of the steam went out of him, like a balloon deflating. “But thank you.”
Triaria sympathetically nudged Volkan with her nose. She then turned to address them. “You are interested in the Corps and dragons? Do you have any questions?”
He looked at Lucy. Lucy looked at him. Why am I here?
Eustace took a deep breath. “I flew as a dragon, once. I want to do it again. And again and again, as long as I live. There is nothing grander in the world than flying and breathing fire.”
Volkan stared at him and Eustace saw that he had terrible scars across his neck and savage-looking head. It was warm being so close to him. “Hmmm. Peculiar,” the Fire breather mused.
Triaria thoughtfully tilted her head and blinked her yellow-orange eyes. “Do you see it too, Volkan?”
“Yes,” the Fire breather said. “There is something very odd about you, Scrubb.”
“You’re very draconic,” Triaria said. “Were you raised near a covert? Do you know any aviators?”
“No,” Eustace said, smiling a little in spite of himself. “I should have liked that, though.”
Lucy giggled.
“And what of you, Lucy?” Triaria asked.
“I am like Eustace, Ma’am. I should very much like to again fly on a dragon.”
“You are peculiar too, Lucy,” Triaria said. “Though not as peculiar as Scrubb.”
“May we sit with you and talk?” Lucy asked.
“I want to hear more about this Fire breather you rode before,” Volkan put in.
So, Eustace and Lucy sat on the grass of Parker’s Piece common with two dragons. As Eustace had only a poor understanding of what he had looked like, it was up to Lucy to describe his formerly draconic state. Triaria and Volkan argued at length about what sort of cross-breed with a Flamme-de-Gloire could have produced such a dragon. Regrettably, they were unable to explain to what covert the dragon had belonged or the name of his handler.
Volkan talk wistfully of his previous Captain who had died only in the last year in North Africa. With great relish, he told them of their service together in the Great War, in Palestine, and flying over Jerusalem and the defence of the Suez. Triaria was younger; she was still with her first Captain and had been hatched between the wars. That led to a very engaging discussion of the combat the dragons had seen in the last few years.
The dragons were very somber in discussing the terrible evacuation at Dunkirk and their service at the Dover covert to protect the channel from Nazi invasion. The dragons were very conscious of their duty and the tradition they upheld.
They argued over who had the right to tell the story of Napoleon’s attempt to cross the Channel using dragon-carried transports and how that offensive had been beaten back through the heroism of Lord Admiral Temeraire, the Chinese Celestial and most famous dragon of the RAF. Eustace and Lucy, of course, knew the story by heart - it was in every schoolbook. It was, however, very different and quite thrilling to hear it from the point of view of the dragons. They were overflowing in their admiration for Temeraire.
The Lord Admiral had been so infuriated by the fall of Hong Kong to the Japanese last Christmas, Temeraire had assumed command of the air war in Asia and was now working closely with the Americans. The papers had been full of his efforts at Guadalcanal to see landing fields built in the jungles for the joint Allied air forces and what looked to be a brutal island hopping campaign in the Pacific theater.
The dragons were not as guarded in their criticisms as humans were. They were both harshly critical of the disaster at Dieppe last month and felt deeply the strategic failure in not permitting bombardment of Nazi positions on the French coast. Their Dover wing should have participated but instead had been inexplicably grounded. The dragons had only been called up when it was too late and all that had been left to do was rescue the surviving Allied commandos from the beaches.
Volkan was regaling them with stories of the infamous Iskierka. He claimed an acquaintance with the Turkish Kazilik Fire breather but Eustace wasn't so sure. The stories were nearly too incredible to believe.
Triaria raised her head from the ground where she had been resting it next to Lucy. “Betty and Ramsey are coming.”
The Captains were striding across the common wearing the tough britches and boots that were their uniform; their long coats, billowed behind them. They were both carrying the distinctive helmets of the Corps. Captain Ramsey was tall and young; Captain James was very short and old enough to really be his mother which, from what Eustace had read in the reports, wasn’t out of the question among aviators.
Eustace quickly stood and gave Lucy a hand up.
“Any good prospects, Betty?” Triaria asked as the Captains joined them.
“Because we found two very good ones,” Volkan said, interrupting before Captain James could respond.
For all that he was an old, grieving dragon, Volkan rubbed Captain Ramsey so affectionately, he nearly pushed the young man off his feet.
“You threatened to eat them and they didn’t run away?” Captain Ramsey said, scratching Volkan’s face in return.
“Yes,” Volkan replied. “Quite commendable, really. Any sensible person should be terrified of me. Which means they'd do very well on dragonback.”
“In answer to your question, my dear, I think you have had better luck than we have,” Captain James said, looking them over with interest. Triaria’s Captain was a woman but Eustace had seen how Lucy carried her authority and how the crew of the Dawn Treader deferred to her, and rightly so. Captain James was obviously the senior officer. He straightened under her scrutiny even though he was taller than she.
“We have had a very pleasant morning,” Triaria replied. “May I introduce Lucy Pevensie and her cousin Eustace Scrubb? They have both flown a dragon before and were very interested in meeting and speaking with us.”
“The pleasure is ours, Captains!” Lucy said, offering her hand. His cousin was comfortable anywhere, with anything, and anybody
Eustace noticed how strong and calloused the aviators’ hands were as they all shook.
“So, you both want to leave school and home and join the Corps?” Captain James asked, stroking Triaria’s blue neck.
“I should like to very much!” Lucy cried. “My parents are away in America now, though, so I could not come right away.”
She sounded so downcast about this, Captain James put a hand on Lucy’s arm. “Budge up, Pevensie. In our experience, if a girl or boy has a passion for dragons, it doesn’t go away. Make enough of a pest of yourself, and it will happen.”
Captain James turned to him. “What about you, Scrubb?”
“Yes,” Eustace said firmly. “I want to join the Corps. More than anything. But, I don’t think my parents will sign the papers.”
Volkan snorted and Eustace took a step back as a flame flickered in his nostril. “That won't be a problem, Scrubb.”
“Why do you think Command sends a Fire breather and an Acid spitter for recruitment?” Triaria said smugly. "We can be very persuasive."
Captain James laughed. “That you can, dearest. I’m afraid your good-natured chatter reveals all our Corps secrets!”
“We won’t tell,” Lucy said very earnestly.
“Are you parents home, Scrubb?” Captain James asked, turning business-like. “Can we call on them?”
“They should be by now, yes, Captain.” He was very glad he got her title and rank right. “Ma’am” was probably fine, too, but “Captain” was definitely better.
“What do you think, Ramsey?”
“This trip is a waste otherwise,” the aviator said, putting his helmet on and adjusting his goggles. “We might as well try.”
A leather contraption was suddenly flying in his direction. Eustace was glad his Narnia reflexes were still with him and he caught it easily. “We’ll be flying, so you’ll need to put the harness on,” Captain James said. She tossed one to Lucy as well.
“So where are we going to be trying to land thirty tonnes of dragon?” Ramsey asked, adjusting Volkan’s light rig harness.
“Impington,” Eustace said, shrugging into the thing. It wasn’t that different from the harnesses they had used when scrambling about the Dawn Treader rigging. He was so elated at the prospect of flying again his hands were shaking as he adjusted the buckles.
“There’s nothing to be nervous of, Scrubb,” Volkan said. “I won’t drop you.”
“I know you won’t,” Eustace said. He should be annoyed at the dragon drawing attention to him, but Volkan didn’t know the truth. “I’m really excited to fly again, not nervous.”
“Good man!” Captain Ramsey said, slapping him between the shoulder blades. It reminded him, in a sad way, of King Caspian’s easy manners. The two men were about the same age, too.
“I don’t suppose there’s room in your parents’ garden for a dragon?” Captain James asked, moving around to check on Triaria’s harness.
“Maybe just?” Lucy said. “For one of you? If you don’t mind landing on bean poles?”
Eustace could imagine what Alberta would say about that. He didn’t care. How famous. A Longwing or a Fire breather in their Victory Garden.
Lucy was tightening the buckles of the flying harness. She would actually be more likely to have problems with the contraption than he would as Lucy had hardly ever worn one when she was climbing the Dawn Treader mast.
“You are doing that very well,” Triaria told her approvingly. “Betty, I like Lucy very much. She is not silly at all.”
“Ramsey!” Volkan said suddenly. “I want Scrubb on my crew.”
Captain Ramsey gave the dragon a clout on the shoulder. “We’ll have to see what his parents say, Volkan. You know that.”
“Oh, I’m not worried there,” Volkan said dismissively. “I’ll just come and visit them every day until they sign the consent.”
Volkan dipped his shoulder and stretched his neck, giving Eustace a shove and handhold onto his back. “Strap in, Scrubb. I’m going to show you some real flying.”
Eustace clipped his carabiner to the dragon’s harness. It would have been so much easier to have taken everyone for flights on Dragon Island if they’d had better rigging. “I say, Volkan, do you think you could find something to flame, too?”
Captain Ramsey swung up next to him. “All in?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“All clear!” Lucy called.
“Scrubb?” Captain Ramsey asked.
Eustace looked about them carefully, up and around.
“All clear!” he hollered.
Beneath him, he felt Volkan tense, his muscles coiling like a spring.
“Smallest first,” Captain James said. Lucy gave a jubilant whoop as Triaria launched herself into the air.
“Volkan, if you would,” Captain Ramsey said.
The Fire breather leaped into the Cambridge sky, taking Eustace’s heart and soul with him.