Chapter Text
Laurence was shamed to say he’d thought but little of Levitas, in those terrible two weeks at a shabby London boardinghouse, not knowing when or if he would see Temeraire again.
His thoughts had strayed often to Temeraire’s crew, among which Levitas now numbered, but he’d shied away from further examination. Though he held himself in great responsibility for the education and careers of his crew, he knew that, in all likelihood, he would lose his captaincy, and thus all power of influence over them and their situations. For Levitas, the situation was still more grave–without Temeraire to bear him into patrol and battle, surely he would be sent to the breeding ground, and who knew if Winston would go with him–if he would even be permitted to.
Jane had provided some reassurance that Lenton had kept Temeraire’s crew together, and that Levitas remained, though Laurence privately wondered how much longer that would be allowed to stand.
Temeraire stealing Laurence away from punishment, and now fully intending to join the battle, could hardly help their case. And then, Laurence felt even greater responsibility fall onto his shoulders like a stone, as Levitas anxiously crept up to Temeraire and made his own greetings. It must have been very lonely and uncertain for this little dragon, though Laurence knew that Winston and the rest of Temeraire’s crew would have seen to him. Even now, there were no reassurances that Laurence could offer. The best he could do was this flight into battle, perhaps the final one.
“May I come along, to the battle?” asked Levitas in his anxious way, and at least this question had a happy answer, and Fellowes set Porter and some other harnessmen to attaching Levitas’s modified harness and brace.
“It’s just as well we’re short a few men,” said Granby in an aside to Laurence. “We’ll shift some of the topmen to the belly, and leave room for Levitas.”
It was a flurry of chaotic motion as the crew got Temeraire into his battle rig, and Levitas hitched up on top of him. His wings no longer had to be strapped down–just a few weeks ago, Levitas had regained the ability to pull back his left wing on his own, even against the wind. Laurence went up to Temeraire’s head to have a soft word with him. “I know you’ve flown patrols with Levitas before, but pace yourself. We can’t put him down if you get tired.”
Temeraire was nearly vibrating with the excitement of the upcoming fight, “He is quite light. Don’t worry. I won’t drop him.”
Levitas was also in clear excitement for battle, and looked proud in his modified harness and leather covers for his back claws, so he could grab onto the straps and steady himself without tearing Temeraire or the leather. Laurence gave him a critical once over. He looked thinner than he had–the stress of his captain leaving him, paired with the uncertainty over Temeraire’s position clearly had done him no good. But he was clear-eyed and moved confidently, bracing himself on the harness as they’d practiced on patrol. Levitas had to be prepared to hold on even if Temeraire went upside down–while the chain would keep Levitas from falling, that much weight swinging through the air unexpectedly would foul Temeraire’s maneuvers.
They got up in the air only a little while after the other dragons, and with Temaire’s speed were easily able to catch up and get the missing details on the heading from Maximus. Granby oversaw some rearrangements of the ammunition, and then the ships were appearing before them, and the enemy dragons.
Temeraire was moving well, even with the extra weight, which was no surprise–they’d flown all their formations with Levitas in practice, but Laurence was alert to the fact that battle was materially different from drill. He feared Temeraire would overextend himself, and then perhaps be caught too slow on a turn, and take some injury.
He tried not to think that this might be the last time they flew into battle as well. Perhaps even the last time they flew together at all. There was no point to such worries, and battle was now upon them.
To Levitas’s credit, he performed well. After Maximus had bullied his way through the French formation, to get the English dragons a shot at the flamme de guerre, a large crew of French boarders came at Temeraire. Though Temeraire’s crew was short a few men, made up only by a couple of the harnessmen, armed with pistols, Levitas made up the difference knocking most of the men off before they clipped on, with blows from his lashing tail. His aim wasn’t perfect though–he left Quarle dazed–which gave the French lieutenant time to push his way forward and clash swords with Laurence.
Levitas had otherwise cleared the top of enemies, and was now leaning over the side to pluck off the remaining boarders as he could with his front claws, and drop them into the sea. The bellmen were rallying, but Laurence himself was in some real danger–only now did he realize he was armed with only his dress sword. It soon snapped in half once, and then again, and the Frenchman was smiling with presumed victory. And then Levitas came up behind him and knocked him down with a butt of his head. The Frenchman slumped in his straps, senseless. Martin and Johnson swarmed up from the belly moments later, and Laurence had Martin take their captive down to the infirmary in the belly.
“Good work, Levitas,” Laurence said to the little dragon, and the Winchester chirped happily at the approval, looking better than he had since his injury. Though he had been diligent in his drills, he had spent much time since his injury huddled alone and unspeaking, a depression that the best of Temeraire or his crew’s efforts could not lift. But now the fire of battle seemed to have put something of life back into the little dragon. And Laurence’s praise wasn’t idle flattery. The dragon had fought fiercely, and in a manner he was not accustomed to and that must have gone against his instincts. Wild dragons didn’t just buffet their enemies and their prey–they grasped them with their claws and then tore them with their teeth. Levitas had restrained himself, and kept his sharp teeth away from the boarders. For a dragon to tear at a man, even in battle, was too much like maneating to be looked kindly on, unless its captain were in danger, in which case, a dragon might do anything at all.
Winston, of course, was well protected, and in the belly. But while Levitas had agreed to accept Winston, Laurence had his suspicions that the dragon did not truly see the man as his captain. He didn’t look to the other man the way he had to Rankin, or even the way he did now to Temeraire and Laurence. Indeed, he should have reassured himself to Wisnton’s safety now that the heat of the battle was over, but instead he stayed to hear Laurence’s words and seemed not at all inclined to duck his neck down to the belly.
Laurence suspected a different reaction would have been evident if Rankin had been aboard.
He had been glad to hear that Rankin had been sent back to Pen Y Far to be reassigned, and had made sure Levitas knew as well. Though Laurence hadn’t relished another blow to the dragon’s spirit, he’d known that if Rankin had been assigned to some crew in Dover, Levitas would forever be focused on other dragons during the battle, and so of no use. Laurence hoped in time that Levitas could learn to look to Winston as his captain, but it worried him that even in his and Temeraire’s absence, that relationship had not progressed further. These, however, were no thoughts for a battle.
Martin was hustling the swooning Frenchman into the belly. And Temeraire was making to catch Accendare at last, and stop her harrying of the British ships, when Laurence heard a tremendous roaring, and then nothing at all.
What followed over the next week was a miserable swooning recovery punctuated by a terrible meeting with the admiralty, only redeemed by the wonderfully relieving news that Laurence would be sent with Temeraire to China.
“I suppose, if you don’t mind us sending Laurence, you won’t mind if we send Temeraire’s whole crew?” Lenton had said, voice only a little cautious.
Yongxing said dismissively, “Why should we care if you send one foreigner or ten.”
Laurence glanced at Lenton. He had a feeling he knew where this was going next.
Indeed, Lenton said, “And there is another dragon, among their number...”
Bantam was puffing up again, offended, and saying “Well, Admiral, that’s frankly ridiculous–”
Yongxing shot him a look dripping with distaste and said, “Well of course if he has attendants they must come with him. We shall find Lung Tien Xiang more suitable servants when we have returned, but for now, send them if you will.”