The Navigator

by Sky, Erin Michelle; Brown, Steven;

  “Then explain it to me,” Tigerlilja said, crossing her arms. “Explain to me why I am incompetent in your eyes.”

  Hook ran his good left hand through his hair and sighed. “It isn’t you,” he said finally, in a very different tone of voice. “And it isn’t about what I think. It’s about my men. They won’t have faith in the plan if a woman is in charge of any of our ships. They simply won’t.”

  Tigerlilja stared him down, but Hook simply stared back at her—no longer angry, but clearly resolute. Finally, she grunted again.

  “English,” Tigerlilja said grimly. “How such a backward people have spread so far across the world is beyond me.”

  “Perhaps,” Wendy suggested quickly, “there is someone else who could serve as a figurehead? You could take over as soon as you were in the air. John—I mean, Mr. Abbot—would have no problem with it. And then Vegard could come with us. We’d be glad for his help.”

  They both turned to look at Wendy. Hook raised his eyebrows and then looked back at Tigerlilja, obviously waiting for her reply. She cocked her head to one side, then sighed.

  “I suppose it works,” she admitted. “Argus would do it. Although I find the necessity of the ruse … distasteful.”

  “Who is Argus?” Hook asked her.

  “He’s the man you will accept as your puppet captain unless you want to start this argument all over again,” Tigerlilja snapped.

  “Fine,” Hook said. “Pan’s everlost will still pilot the Jolly Roger.”

  “Curly,” Tigerlilja informed him. “His name is Curly.”

  “Miss Darling will fly with Pan himself,” Hook continued, ignoring the interruption, “to keep him on task, as will Vegard and the rest of the Fourteenth.”

  You mean the useless Fourteenth, Wendy thought. How many times had he called them that? Just because they weren’t sailors. Now, at long last, their skill as trained soldiers was needed. She didn’t expect an apology, but she thought a little appreciation would have been nice.

  “Blackheart has confined himself to his base,” Hook continued. That drew Wendy’s full attention. If they had good intelligence regarding where Blackheart would be, the attack was imminent. “Apparently, he’s been working on creating new everlost of his own. We can’t let that happen. But he’s ordered his crew not to disturb him, which makes this the perfect opportunity.”

  “We’re certain?” Wendy asked, and Tigerlilja nodded in reply.

  “The innisfay have been watching him,” she said. “This might be our only chance to catch him alone, or nearly.”

  “The Pegasus and the Jolly Roger will attack his base to draw his fleet away,” Hook explained. “They won’t be looking for Pan’s ship because they won’t expect him to be in league with us. You’ll slip in behind us after we’ve drawn them off: you, Vegard, Starkey, Mr. Bennet and the Fourteenth, Pan and his crew.”

  Wendy couldn’t help but wonder if Starkey was meant as a strong Hook presence in the ground party. The man was fiercely loyal to his captain.

  “Even leaving most of the crew with the ship, you should have enough to handle any guards who remain in the base and eliminate the threat,” Hook finished.

  “You’ll have your hands full with Pan,” Tigerlilja warned her. “Whatever you find in Blackheart’s lair, I wouldn’t count on Pan for much help.”

  Wendy only nodded, acknowledging the comment, but Wendy had always found Peter to be reliable when it really mattered. He had saved poor Reginald’s life. He had saved her own life more than once. Wendy couldn’t help but believe in him, no matter what Tigerlilja said.

  “You have your orders,” Hook said. “The Norsemen brought some spare pieces of leather armor. You’ll find them with the quartermaster.” He looked down at the map table as though there were something profoundly interesting on it, even though there clearly wasn’t.

  Wendy raised her eyebrows and turned to Tigerlilja.

  “What he doesn’t want to say,” she explained, “is that we train our women to fight from childhood. All our women. And, of course, we make armor for them, the same as the men. I made sure they brought pieces that will fit you.”

  “Thank you,” Wendy said shyly. She averted her gaze from Hook just as carefully as he had from her until she had left his quarters.

  At the armory, Tigerlilja proved to be true to her word, not that Wendy was surprised. She tried on several things, but the vests felt too stiff, and the leg bracers interfered with her holsters.

  In the end, she took only two pairs of leather leggings that seemed to have been tailored for a woman about her size (instead of the boys’ leggings she had been belting down at the waist) and a pair of bracers. They were very stiff, molded roughly to the shape of her wrist, with leather laces to tie them down. Despite their obvious function, they had been painted blue on their outer face, and Wendy thought they were as lovely as they were practical.

  She returned to her small quarters to pack, and, of course, to say goodbye to Nana, who had already returned from her walk with Mr. Starkey. Wendy had decided to send the dog with John. None of them were likely to be safe in the battle to come, but Wendy wasn’t sure how good Nana would have been at sneaking into a magical fortress.

  “It isn’t personal,” Wendy was telling her. “You know you have a mind of your own when it comes to magical creatures. It’s one of the things I love about you. But I think you’ll be safer with John.”

  Nana, for her part, always felt safer with Wendy than with anyone else in the world. She was trying to point that out by whining softly when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  Wendy opened it to find John and Charlie standing there together.

  “We just wanted,” John said, but then he gulped and fell silent.

  Wendy, of course, understood him perfectly. He wanted to say goodbye, but at the same time he didn’t want to say goodbye because he didn’t want to admit, not even to himself, that they might be saying it forever.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “We’ll all be fine. You’ll see.” She had no way of knowing that, but it seemed like the right thing to say. John nodded and gulped again. “Take Nana with you. Take care of her for me, until we all get back?”

  John nodded again. “I will,” he said roughly.

  “Charlie,” she said, turning to her lifelong friend, “whatever happens, remember that this is what I always wanted. There’s nothing you could have done to turn me away from it. Nothing. Understand? Whatever happens.”

  It was Charlie’s turn to gulp and nod. “Or me, either,” he told her. “This is more of a life than I ever thought possible. No matter what.”

  A tear formed in Wendy’s eye, but she wiped it away furiously.

  “All right, now. Both of you, go on,” she told them. “We’re all being silly. We’ll see each other as soon as it’s over.” She tried to sound sure of it, but she hugged them both, just the same.

  When she shut the door behind them, only Charming remained.

  “I’m glad you’re coming with me, at least,” she told him, but then there was another knock at the door.

  “Honestly,” she said as she was opening the door, “we’re all going to be fine.” But it was not John and Charlie, as she had assumed. It was Hook.

  “Miss Darling,” he told her, “I don’t know whether to believe you are eerily prescient or simply have a woman’s instinct for fashion. Either way, you never cease to astound me.”

  “Sorry?” she asked.

  He pointed to her blue bracers with his good left hand, and then he lifted his right arm to show her the blue officer’s jacket that was draped across it, just behind his hook. He picked it up, exposing a perfect column of polished gold buttons, and he handed her the garment without further ceremony.

  “I believe,” he said simply, “this is somewhat overdue.”

  er blue coat. Wendy kept running her hands over it. A Royal Navy officer’s jacket, with polished gold buttons. It was just like the ones the men had been we
aring at Bartholomew Fair all those years ago. The men who had laughed at her for wanting to be in the navy at all. And, now, here she was. An officer. A commissioned officer. With a fine blue jacket of her own.

  It was just a tiny bit large for her, but she liked it that way. She could move in it. She could fight in it. It felt heavy on her shoulders, and she liked that, too. It felt solid. Dependable. Reassuring.

  It made her feel like she could do anything.

  She checked her pistols one more time, making sure she could reach them easily in the leg holsters strapped to her thighs. She checked the musket slung across her back. She checked her ammunition pouches. She checked the silver dagger in her belt and the silver blade at her hip—a full sword from the quartermaster, reserved only for officers. It must have been worth a small fortune.

  She bent her knees deeply and leaped to her feet several times. The new leggings fit her perfectly, and her gear remained secure. She was ready.

  “Come along, Charming. It’s time to go.”

  Charming jingled and emerged from behind his curtain.

  Together, they made their way up to the deck, where, of course, it was still dark. It was always dark here. She wished they could have used the cover of darkness to their advantage, but just because it was nighttime here in the valley didn’t mean it would be nighttime where they were going. She had no idea where Blackheart’s base was, and she hadn’t thought to ask what time of day it was there.

  Well, she would find out soon enough.

  Starkey was waiting for her when she arrived on deck.

  “The Fourteenth is already on Pan’s ship, miss,” he told her. “Vegard and I are the last to transfer. Everyone’s accounted for.”

  “Excellent, Mr. Starkey. Thank you.”

  She moved toward the stern, intending to climb down as she always did, but Starkey stopped her.

  “No need for that, miss,” he told her. “They put a bridge up for us.”

  “A bridge?” she asked, incredulous.

  Starkey led her to the side railing, where she saw that a kind of rope bridge had been slung between the two ships. Vegard was already in the center of it, so they watched as he moved his hands along the top ropes at either side, placing his feet carefully on the thin boards at his feet.

  “It’s a bit shaky, miss, but it’ll hold,” Starkey assured her.

  Vegard finished crossing, Starkey went next, and then Wendy followed. She had to admit, it was far easier than climbing down and back up again. She didn’t even mind the swaying. In what seemed like no time at all, she was standing on Pan’s ship, where a new surprise awaited her.

  “Starkey? What’s this?”

  “Your men, sir. They are presenting themselves for your inspection.”

  The entire platoon stood at attention, lined up in proper military formation. Michael stepped forward from the end and shouted, “Officer on deck!” In perfect unison, they turned their heads toward her and saluted.

  Slowly, Wendy saluted back, feeling all the while as though she had stepped into a dream. At the end of her salute, the men dropped their hands smartly.

  “Sir,” Michael shouted, “do the troops meet with your approval, sir?”

  “I … oh, yes,” Wendy said, her eyes filled with wonder. “Very much so!”

  The men all grinned to one degree or another, but it was the only break in their military bearing.

  “Men,” Michael barked. He was about to issue a new order when a flurry of activity cut him short. From all across the deck, everlost flew to join in the fun, jostling each other as they lined up behind the platoon and adopted the same pose. Peter landed next to Michael, studied him carefully, and then imitated his posture and expression so perfectly that Wendy had to stifle a laugh. Peter broke his pose just long enough to nudge Michael, who grinned from ear to ear.

  “Sir,” Michael shouted again, “do all the troops meet with your approval, sir?”

  “They do,” Wendy said, imbuing her pronouncement with all the gravity the occasion deserved.

  “Men,” Michael barked, “to your stations!”

  They grinned and broke ranks, spreading out to take up lookout positions all along the ship’s rail, both port and starboard.

  “Michael, you scoundrel,” Wendy said, laughing.

  “It wasn’t even my idea,” he protested. “Reginald put us all up to it. With John on the Jolly Roger, you’re our ranking officer now.”

  She hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but what Michael said was true. She was the ranking officer. And Hook knew that when he gave her the jacket. He might not have given her a ship, but without bringing it to anyone’s attention, he had handed her the command of the most important part of this entire mission.

  Wendy squared her shoulders and turned to Michael with a new look of determination. “Whatever waits for us in Blackheart’s stronghold,” she told him, “we’re ending this. Today.”

  They flew over the same route Wendy and Peter had traveled on their way to see the mermaids: the farmlands, the rocky vistas, the mist-laced jungle canopy. Finally, near the very end of their journey, they veered off toward a different part of the coastline, and the landscape changed again.

  To Wendy’s amazement, it reminded her of England.

  No, she decided, it did more than just remind her. The resemblance was uncanny. These fields and forests could have been on Hook’s own estate in Hertfordshire, assuming Hertfordshire had been transported to the eastern coast. Even the birds and insects sounded the same, giving Wendy the impression of a cool spring morning. And, like so many mornings in England, there was a thick fog rolling in below.

  Here, at the outer edge of the fog, only its long, soft fingers wove through the trees, but it thickened up ahead, covering the land like a quilt. Only a few lonely hills broke through the gray here and there, and Peter turned toward the nearest before handing off the ship’s thimble to an everlost with a prominent nose, an easy smile, and (somewhat improbably) a full-length black cape with a red silk lining draped across his shoulders.

  The dapper crewman cupped both hands around Peter’s fist, then suddenly snapped them shut around the thimble as Peter removed his own hand from between them.

  “Are we close?” Wendy asked Peter.

  “Very,” he told her. “It’s just ahead. We’ll be able to see it through the spyglass from the top of that hill.” He pulled a spyglass from a compartment behind the wheel—right next to the one that would have housed the thimble if he hadn’t been using it.

  “Then they’ll be able to see us, too,” Wendy said, thinking out loud. “Is there a safe place near that hill where we can settle under the cover of the fog and wait?”

  “There’s an open field this side of it,” Peter told her.

  “Good. Take us down, then.”

  Peter nodded. “As the navigator says, Nibs.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Nibs replied cheerfully.

  As the ship descended, the air grew colder and the mist curled around them, happy to swallow them whole. Wendy shivered. She could hardly see the bow, let alone the surrounding countryside.

  “Michael, Vegard, Starkey,” Wendy said, “and you, too, Peter. Come with me.”

  They used the lines to drop down to the ground and then climbed halfway up the nearby hill. Wendy breathed deeply, trying to imagine what lay ahead. What did the base look like? How large was it? How many guards would be left behind? Was their intelligence even accurate? Wendy snuck a glance at Tinker Bell, who was sitting on Peter’s shoulder, her hair gold and bright.

  Charming, who was sitting on her own shoulder, jingled in her ear.

  “Charming!” Wendy exclaimed. “Can you fly just high enough to see when The Pegasus and the Jolly Roger have reached the base? So we’ll know when their attention is turned away from us?”

  Charming lifted off and hovered in front of Wendy, saluting smartly in midair. Then he zipped away, flying up through the fog cover until she couldn’t see him anymore. She coul
d not have asked for a better scout, and then she smiled a little, remembering a time when Tinker Bell used to spy on her from among the flowers of Hertfordshire.

  All was quiet for a few moments longer, but then they heard an explosion of shouts and alarm bells off in the distance. The ships had been seen. She heard a volley of cannon fire. Was that The Pegasus? Or were they the ones being fired upon? A golden dart fell from the sky, landing on Wendy’s shoulder. Charming. With a small, chiming trill, he pointed toward the top of the hill.

  “Come on!” Wendy shouted.

  They raced up the hill and burst out under the open sky, thin tendrils of fog clinging for a moment to their hair and shoulders, reluctant to let them go. Wendy squinted against the low morning sun, trying to make out the stronghold, and then she gasped.

  Blackheart had a castle. Not a pretend castle. An honest-to-goodness stone castle. With towers. And battlements. It sprawled gravely at the edge of the cliffs, overlooking a proper naval base in a protected harbor, with ships floating on the sea. Peter handed Wendy the spyglass so she could count them. Five. Six. Seven. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. And an eighth, sitting up in a dry dock cradle. The largest warship Wendy had ever seen.

  Eight ships.

  And … wait … was that … ?

  “Heaven preserve us. He has dragons,” Wendy whispered. Two smoke-gray dragons twined around the tallest tower, their heads screaming in rage at The Pegasus and the Jolly Roger, which hovered over the harbor.

  “Those are wyverns,” Peter said.

  “Wyverns?” she asked.

  But it was Vegard who answered. He stood a bit ahead of her and to her left, his arms folded serenely across his chest, a longbow slung across his back. His long hair with its intermittent braids was tied behind his neck with a leather thong, the ends swaying gently as he turned his head toward her.

  “Cousins to dragons, but not dragons. Smaller, and with only two legs. Their back end is just a long tail, like a snake.”

  Wendy did her best not to look horrified.

  “They’re formidable,” he continued. “Very hard to control. I’m amazed he’s managed to tame even one, let alone a pair of them. But they’re easier to kill than dragons.” He said the last bit with a wicked grin, which made Wendy feel at least a little better, if not much.