The Search for the Red Dragon (28 page)

“That’s very admirable,” said Jack. “I don’t know if I’d be capable of that—raising another man’s child as if he were my own. I don’t know if I have the strength of character for it.”

“Stephen is Aven’s son,” said Artus. “That was enough for me. She knows I love her, and our arrangement, while it might be a bit strange to some people, works for us. And isn’t that what matters?”

“It isn’t for me to judge,” Jack replied. “I’ve sometimes wondered if I’ll ever get married at all. I watch John and Charles, and at times I envy them. But I can still relate. How you’ve done what you’re doing is just beyond my understanding.”

Artus clapped him on the back. “I’m sure if the situation arises,” he said, “you’ll be able to find the joy in it, as I have. And if you ever need advice, you know where to come to.”

Aven and Stephen looked up from the table in the hall and waved. Jack and Artus waved back.

“Kids,” said Artus. “They grow up so fast. It seems like just yesterday he was only nine.”

“It was last week, actually.”

“That’s just as bad,” said Artus.

The celebrations in the Archipelago lasted for a full day and a full night, as the peoples of all the lands came to Paralon to reclaim their lost children. Still, all the happiness over the successful return of the children couldn’t mitigate the frustration the Caretakers felt over the dilemmas that would still have to be dealt with in the near future.

The
Indigo Dragon
was still in the possession of Burton and the Croatoan Indians. The Keep of Time was still crumbling and would continue to do so. And there could be rogue Caretakers back in their world who were actually working for the Imperial Cartological Society. Basically, Charles declared, the entire adventure was still a catastrophe.

“Not a catastrophe,” said John. “More a eucatastrophe, I think. It was all grim and terrible to a point, but things seem to have worked out in the end.”

“Jack,” said Charles, “he’s making up words again.”

“Yes,” Jack replied, “but he’s getting better at it, don’t you think?”

“You’re forgetting the most frightening loose end of all,” said Bert. “Our great adversary still exists.

“Your shadow may be separated from you—may be captured, or imprisoned, or twisted and manipulated—but it cannot exist without you.”

“Cannot exist?” said John. “As in, your shadow will not outlast your death?”

“Correct,” said Bert. “And if that truly was Mordred’s shadow we faced, then our old adversary, the Winter King, is still alive.”

It was time to return home. There were matters there that needed tending to, and the companions felt that for the moment, they had done enough.

“After you,” John said to Jack.

Jack looked at Charles, who also nodded that he should be first, and with a last smile at Bert, Jack stepped into the wardrobe.

One by one, they pressed the furs aside and emerged from the wardrobe onto the fourth floor of the town house near Kensington Gardens. First Jack, then Charles, and finally, John. They were greeted by a beaming figure holding a tray.

“Welcome back,” said Jamie. “I’ve made tea.”

On an enchanted island at the Frontier of the Archipelago of Dreams, a cave stood empty. Where once there had been weavers, and a loom, only dust remained. And where a great tapestry that was as big as the world had once covered the walls of the cave, there was only a cobweb, woven by a spider that had only that day taken up residence in the cave.

Seven hundred years earlier, or just yesterday, Roger Bacon, the Caretaker Principia of the
Imaginarium Geographica,
pulled his cloak tighter to ward off the chill drafts that passed through his small alcove. The only light came from the tallow candles mounted upon his table, and there were no sounds save for the ticking of the timepiece he’d been given; a gift from the Frenchman.

Bacon carefully dipped his pen into the inkwell and continued writing the Histories to which he had devoted a considerable part of his life.

As he wrote these words, the ticking suddenly stopped, and the wind was stilled. Then, as he watched, the words on the page began to shift and change, and suddenly he could not remember writing what had been there before, but only what appeared there now, in ink still glistening:

And as he closed the book, the ticking began again, and the breeze, warm now, flowed around him even as Time itself continued to ripple and shudder around the old scribe….

After
Here, There Be Dragons
was published, and the real identities of John, Jack, and Charles became common knowledge, I realized that the challenge I faced with
The Search for the Red Dragon
was to be able to continue their story and still keep characters (who were based on well-known and much-beloved authors) fresh and interesting. And the best way I could do that was to broaden the mythology I’d created for the
Imaginarium Geographica
and focus on John’s predecessor, Sir James Barrie.

I had alluded to Barrie’s role as a Caretaker in
Dragons
, but I knew that bringing him to the fore would give me the opportunity to fold Peter Pan into the story. I had already stated that the
Red Dragon
had been made from the rebuilt
Argo
, and so making the mythological Jason and Medea’s sons into the original “Lost Boys” gave me a direct line back to Peter Pan.

Orpheus, as the inheritor of the Greek god Pan’s pipes, gave me a connection to Peter (Pan) and opened up the opportunity to tie in the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Adding the stories of Daedalus and Echo simply strengthened the connections I wanted to establish with the classical Greek mythology.

The Piper’s story, and luring away the children, was something
that could be woven into the tales of the Children’s Crusades, which are, tragically, historically accurate. This was also the source for Hugh the Iron, William the Pig, and the child who led them (in one version of the Crusade stories), Stephen.

It was a passion of J. R. R. Tolkien’s to try to find the oldest versions of the world’s stories. So using that conceit as a template, I was able to write early versions of “Hansel and Gretel” and even wink at “Snow White” with Medea’s mirror.

Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle were friends in real life and had, quite famously, attempted to prove the existence of fairies and other magical creatures. Houdini in particular is a perfect example of a Caretaker who was not also a writer—even if his tenure was short. And again, that he was a great illusionist who would have loved the concept of the transporting wardrobes segued nicely into an inspiration for Lewis’s most famous work, as well as echoing the recent “revelations” about Houdini’s secret life as a spy.

Richard Burton was an infamous explorer, who seemed to be exactly the sort of person who might stumble across a lost expedition like the Roanoke colonists—and the temptation to explain what “Croatoan” meant while in the same stroke establishing a basis for the Indians in Peter Pan was too hard to resist.

The names of ships forming the great wall in the Underneath will be familiar to anyone who may have read stories about the Bermuda Triangle. I threw in Amelia Earhart just for good measure.

It should be noted that while many of the stories and characters are based on real people and historical facts, I have taken liberties where it best suited the story to do so. Nothing here should
be taken as definitive truth—but then again, all of us change and grow, and alter how we relate to the world as we do. I have tried to instill this quality in my characters as well.

And finally, as all the best villains do, the Winter King/Mordred returns to the stage, though not in the form readers might have expected, nor is he presented in an entirely negative light. And a careful reader might note that his whole story has not yet been told….

James A. Owen
Silvertown, USA