JAMES
We start seeing massive icebergs in the water, some larger than the ship, drifting silently through the mist. Eerie islands of pale blue with hidden depths that make them dangerous.
The last few days our maps have been useless—none extend this far north.
But according to the stars and a crude sketch I’d done to extend the longitude and latitude, we should be reaching our destination any day now.
The energy of the ship is electric. For the last twenty-four hours, the men have been hovering around the railings, searching the horizon for what we all hope is here—Grythmoor.
As the location of Caspian’s coordinates gets closer and closer, my nerves are wearing thin. Because I don’t see anything. Just islands of ice resembling a giant floating mountain range. It’s midday when Lan steps away from the railing, a worried look on his face and shakes his head.
“The coordinates lead us here,” he says quietly.
Caspian and I look up. All I see is a wall of ice. Certainly nowhere a city would be hiding.
“It should be here,” Caspian insists.
“Search a few leagues east and west,” I demand.
Tension heavy with doubt and worry settles on the quarterdeck.
Harrison shouts out orders to trim the sails as he turns the Tempest west. I watch Caspian stalk towards the bow and post up at the rail, as though he could physically will the city into existence.
I head back to my cabin and immediately pour myself some rum.
I stare down at the charts on my desk but I’m not seeing any of it.
I’m thinking of everything that could happen if we’re wrong .
The rest of the day, Caspian stands in the same spot.
Staring off into the ice cliffs like Grythmoor is just going to appear for him.
I’ve made a few appearances on deck, but spend most of the day drinking myself into a drunken state in my cabin.
At nightfall, the murmurs start. Somehow the men have picked up on the general vibe; I’m sure seeing Caspian parked on the bow isn’t helping things.
With each passing hour, doubt is seeping through the crew.
I always knew this was a possibility—we’d show up and there’d be nothing, but the reality is so much worse.
It’s nearing midnight when Harrison barges into my cabin. I’m sitting on the edge of the desk, holding a nearly empty rum bottle. I’d stopped bothering with a glass hours ago.
“What’s the plan, Captain?” Harrison demands.
I glance up at him coldly but instead of answering, I raise the bottle to my lips.
He grinds his teeth together and takes a step towards me. “The men are beginning to ask questions.”
“We spend another day searching.”
“Searching where?” Harrison throws his arms out. “There’s nothing out there!”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Yes, we do!” Harrison says, his voice rising. “We’ve known for years. But a fucking prince comes along and brainwashes you into thinking he has a map—a fucking map—why’d you believe him, man?”
I don’t have an answer for that—except that it got me out of hanging—and my own stupid curiosity to get to know the man who wasn’t afraid of me. I take another swig of rum.
“What are you going to say to the men?” Harrison’s anger permeates my intoxication.
“Nothing yet.”
Harrison’s eyes narrow. “You know what this means—”
I’m moving before I even realize what I’m doing. My hand goes around Harrison’s throat and I shove him hard backwards against the table.
“You touch him and it’ll be the last thing you do ,” I snarl.
“You’ve forgotten yourself,” Harrison rasps, his voice heavy with contempt.
“You’ve let the prince wrap you around his finger—or should I say cock—” I squeeze, cutting off his words.
He glares at me. I’m breathing hard, terrified of what might happen if there isn’t any gold—even more terrified of losing Caspian.
I loosen my hold on Harrison’s neck and step back, shoving away from him with a scowl.
I slam the bottle down on my desk and turn my back on him, leaning heavily over the wood .
“Give me three more days,” I say. I look over my shoulder. “We have a week before our supplies force us to turn back anyway. Give me that.”
Harrison takes a deep breath and nods curtly. “Three days.”
“Get out.”
Harrison’s jaw tightens but he heads towards the door. He pauses on the threshold and looks at me with disgust in his eyes.
“I’ve followed you loyally for years,” his voice is tight with emotion. “But this is the first time I don’t believe in you.”
His words should have hurt, and maybe they would have if I were sober. He slams the door and I’m left alone. My anger overwhelms me. I raise the empty rum bottle and throw it forcefully at the back of the door. It shatters, raining glass down across the floor.
Three days. That’s all I have to find this lost city.
Three days to make the impossible happen.
Three days before I could lose the best thing to happen to me in a very long time.
That thought alone is what moves me to action.
Broken glass crunches under my boots as I leave my cabin and head up in search of Caspian.
I find him where he’s been all day, on the foredeck. The nights up here are below freezing. Ice builds on the ropes, and fog creeps among the icebergs like the spirits of the dead. And still Caspian is standing at the rail.
“Come below deck,” I touch his arm. His skin is like ice.
“It’s here, I know it is,” he mutters.
“You won’t find it if you freeze to death,” I snap.
He pulls his gaze away from the pitch black of the sea and peers at me.
“Are you drunk?”
I frown at him.
“Fuck, you don’t believe it’s here, do you?” He runs both hands through his hair and turns back to the rail.
“You can’t even see anything in the dark,” I insist, although the words kind of string together.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Don’t make me answer that right now, Caspian.”
His shoulders tense and he grips the rail hard.
“Come down and get warm for a bit,” I demand.
“No.”
“Caspian—”
“Go away, Captain.”
I stare at his profile but I can see the stubborn set of his shoulders and the disappointment in his eyes and decide to drop it.
I can’t answer him—because I don’t know what to believe right now and while I believe in Caspian, I also know enough about him now to know he sometimes can be impulsive—What if he was impulsive about going after a treasure that doesn’t exist?
I head back down to my cabin, planning on drinking until I pass out because on top of all those thoughts, I feel doubt creep in—if he was impulsive about the treasure, what if he’s being impulsive about whatever is going on between the two of us too?
The door bursts open, hitting the jam so hard I startle awake. My head hurts from all the rum—I had in fact downed enough to pass out. Apparently I’d had the foresight to take my shirt off but not my pants or boots. Caspian strides in, the urgency bleeding off him.
“It’s behind the ice,” he says.
I swing my legs over the edge, squinting at him like he’s crazy. “What’s behind the ice?”
“Grythmoor,” Caspian says. His excitement is palpable.
“Think about it—the icebergs are probably blocking it. If we can get to the other side—” He starts to pace, muttering to himself.
“—that must be why ships haven’t been able to find it before.
It must be on an iceberg or glacier or something.
And no one thinks to go around the ice. No one thinks that it could be moving—” He stops in front of me. “Did you?”
I’m trying to follow him but my brain feels heavy. I shake my head. “We’ve tried to find an opening but one never surfaced, and we were running out of supplies.”
Caspian’s eyes glisten with excitement. He steps over and stands between my legs, his attention traveling over me in appreciation.
“It’s behind the ice,” he says firmly.
His hands snake around behind my neck. “I know it is. Come on—Blondie won’t listen to me; you need to give the order.”
I stand up and groan, grabbing my head as a headache of massive proportions grips me. Caspian is practically running around the cabin. He throws my shirt and jacket at me.
“Fuck—slow down,” I grumble.
I slowly drag my clothes on.
“Here—” Caspian shoves a glass of rum towards me. “A shot will do wonders.” I grimace but throw it back. “Now, come on.”
Caspian is a fucking whirlwind on the quarterdeck as I emerge into the bright sunlight of early morning. The light reflects off the icebergs and glassy surface of the ocean making my head hurt even worse.
“Find us passage through the ice, Harrison,” I order.
“Through the ice,” he states.
“Aye—we’ve never ventured into the ice field,” I insist.
He frowns, his mouth in a thin line. “For good reason.”
“Just fucking do it,” I bark.
His insolence is beginning to get real old, real fast, and I’m not in the mood to give orders twice.
“Lan, get some spotters up in the rigging,” I command. “I don’t want us running into any of these icebergs.” I turn back to Harrison. “Slow and steady does it.”
The entire crew is on the rails. It’s silent except for the light breeze brushing through the canvas and the lap of the water against the ice. It’s like a collective holding of breath as we make our way slowly through the maze of floating islands—some nearly as big and wide as mountains.
Two hours go by. I’m continually getting distracted by Caspian pacing the quarterdeck.
Lan and Flynt are helping navigate through the ice while Van has been trying to get Caspian to calm down.
I know it’s a lost cause—we’re all at the end of our ropes.
Tension is high, but so is the palpable excitement that maybe—just maybe—it’ll be around the next bend.
The sun has started its afternoon descent when there’s a shout from the crow’s nest.
“Captain!”
All eyes look up.
My barrelman is hanging off the edge of the perch.
“Captain! I see something!”
“What is it?” I shout.
“I—I don’t know! Straight past the next two icebergs!”
Everyone’s attention turns ahead, and the ship falls deathly silent as we slowly sail past the two icebergs.
The way opens up, and there, sitting on the banks of a frozen landscape, are the icy ruins of a fortress.
The deck erupts in cheers as everyone crowds the rail to get a better look.
I’m staring at it—unwilling to believe what my eyes are seeing.
“Well fuck me,” Harrison mutters.
“Oh my God,” Van breathes. “It’s real—it’s fucking real!” He’s shaking Caspian, a wild look of excitement in his eyes.
“What did I tell you, Captain?” Caspian says.
He comes up to stand next to me, his eyes greedily taking in the sight. The fortress is a crumbled ruin, but the stones are encased in ice giving it a blue hue that blends in with the landscape. Snow drifts obscure the walls, and towers poke through where ice has encroached on it over the millenia.
I clasp Caspian on the shoulder, the excitement is contagious—but all I feel is relief.
“Anchor us here, Harrison,” I say. “Let’s go in for a closer look.”