The Shadow Dragons (25 page)

The knight stood next to the professor and pulled his arm around his own shoulders. “I will be your legs,” Quixote said. “I shall be your strength.”

“The light!” Archimedes called. “We’re almost high enough!”

Rose threw aside the parachute to lighten the ship and wring out every ounce of speed. “We’re nearly there, professor!” she exclaimed. “You’re almost home!”

“So nice,” the professor murmured as the first rays of light struck his face. “I can almost see that meadow, Quixote.”

“As I knew you would, my friend,” the knight said through his own tears. “You will never be in darkness again, only in the light of a glorious, endless day, where every sleep is brief, and at every waking you shall rise up to meet the sun.”

The light swept over the little craft as the professor’s eyes closed, and his body began to shimmer and fade. In moments he had burst into an explosion of light and joy, and tears, and then he was gone.

There was no time to mourn the loss of the professor. The
Scarlet Dragon
had reached the limits of its endurance, but a respite was within reach, if they could only reach the water past the falls.

The wind-battered Dragonship rose to the crest of the immense waterfall and edged its way over, just barely skimming above the surface. They made it several yards in before the ship started to flounder—but the current was still an immediate danger.

Off to the left, not a mile away, was the island of Terminus.

“There!” Rose exclaimed excitedly. “If we can make it to the island, we may be able to repair the ship!”

Quixote was doubtful that anything could salvage the
Scarlet Dragon,
which had been pushed well past its limits, but after all they had endured with the journey down to find Madoc, and the terrible sacrifice made by Professor Sigurdsson, he was not about to dampen the girl’s unflagging spirits.

“We’ll make it,” he said encouragingly. “Upon my word as a knight, we’ll make landfall, my dear, dear girl!”

The knight grabbed the tattered remnants of the balloon and wrapped a rope around the tears. “Ho, Archimedes!” he called out over the roar of the falls. “Take one of the starboard lines and give us a pull!”

Between the port propeller, which was functional but sputtering badly, and the strength of the clockwork owl, the ship skipped slowly across the surface of the water. When it dipped too low, the tremendous current yanked the boat downward, but Archie and Quixote resolved to hold their course. In a matter of minutes, the little craft settled safely onto the sandy beach that lined the southern shore of Terminus, and the balloon finally deflated completely.

Rose and Quixote staggered from the boat and collapsed among the sand and grass. Archie joined them, for once too drained to go circling about.

Rose propped herself up on one elbow. “We can’t rest here too long,” she told her companions. “We have to find a way to repair the
Scarlet Dragon.
Everything depends on our getting the sword to the king.”

“But how, my lady?” Quixote asked without raising his head. “There is nothing on this island but grass, and rocks, and a gravestone.”

“Not quite,” a voice said from over the low hill behind them. “There’s also a friend, who is very, very happy to see you here safe and sound.”

Rose and Quixote sat up in astonishment, and Archie let out a squawk of happiness. Just coming over the rise of the hill toward them was a man they had not expected, but were not surprised to see.

“‘Believing is seeing,’” said Ransom.

“‘Believe,’” answered Rose. “It’s wonderful to see you, Mr. Ransom.”

“As I told your uncle Jack, dear girl,” Ransom admonished, “call me Alvin.”

Ransom had with him a small store of food and water, and had even remembered to bring a wind-up mouse for Archie, so the four friends sat down and had an impromptu dinner, while Rose and Quixote took turns telling Ransom about the journey over the waterfall.

His face grew dark when they related what had befallen Professor Sigurdsson.

“He is one I would have liked to know better,” Ransom said after offering his condolences. “I have heard great things about him, especially tales of his younger days. He was renowned as an archaeologist and had many adventures even before he was recruited as a Caretaker.”

“He did as he told us he would,” Quixote said, “and he paid the price he knew must be paid. Now it is for us to make certain it was not a sacrifice made in vain.”

“How is it you’re here on Terminus, Mr.—Alvin?” asked Rose. “It is, after all, the last place in the entire Archipelago where anyone might go.”

“I found my way to the elusive Inn at the World’s End,” Ransom said as a broad smile spread across his face, “so I was able to sneak in a drink or two before coming here to wait for you. The passage through the Trump requires quite a leap of faith, and when I did get there, I found the place packed. Some sort of metaphysical funeral was going on outside. I asked the innkeeper, and all he would say was that a dream had died. Odd, but a nice tavern nevertheless.”

“You came here for us?” Rose exclaimed. “Why? How did you know?”

“There are friends and allies waiting for you all along the edge of the falls,” said Ransom, pointing to the water’s edge. “Every vessel that wasn’t commandeered into battle with the Shadow King. Boats, bottles, bathtubs—whatever would float. I’m not a fan of boats myself, so I elected to wait for you here—where they’d have brought you anyway.”

“But why?” Rose repeated.

“In case your quest succeeded,” replied Ransom. “We needed a way to get you to the heart of the war as quickly as possible. And since it’s partly my fault all this happened, I volunteered to be the one to take you back.” He paused. “You were successful, I take it?”

“Oh!” said Rose. “We forgot to show you!” She bounded over to the
Scarlet Dragon
and pulled out the sword, which was still wrapped tightly in the oilcloth.

Reverently she unwrapped it and held it up to the light. The black sword was gleaming and unbroken.

Ransom whistled in appreciation. “Now that’s a sword. Let’s get you back to Tamerlane House. There’s no time to lose.”

“Back?” Quixote said, scanning the beach. “Did you bring one of the Dragonships?”

“Better,” said Ransom. He opened up his jacket and removed the Trumps. “Remember the ones I reserved in case of an emergency? Well, if the End of the World doesn’t qualify, I don’t know what does.”

At that moment several voices called out to them from the water, and they turned to see a flotilla of small boats and rafts converging on the beach. They were occupied by fauns, and a few badgers, and several old men and young boys from the various islands. All those who were not able to fight in a battle had come here to risk their lives anyway, to be of service to the one who could bring hope to the Archipelago. The hopeful and anxious looks on their faces said everything the companions needed to know.

“Show them,” said Ransom. “Show them what it looks like when a hope is fulfilled and a dream comes true.”

Rose stood and slowly held the sword high over her head. The response was a wave of cheering and sobbing and chanting of her name. Everyone in the boats was filled with excitement and joy— and, as Ransom had said, hope.

“If you’ve recovered enough of your strength,” said Ransom, “we need to get going. There are a great many people waiting for you back in the Nameless Isles.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to create a drawing of the islands there, to keep it a secret?” said Rose.

“All the secrets are out,” said Ransom, “and all the cards are on the table except one—and that’s you. If this doesn’t work, there won’t be any place left to keep a secret.”

“Is it really that dire?” asked Quixote.

“It is,” said Ransom. “But look at all those out there, in the boats. They believed, and here you are. Others believe in you too.”

“And believing is seeing,” said Rose.

“That’s the grand thing about dreams,” Ransom said as he held the card up to the light. “Some may eventually pass on, but there’s always another one to take its place.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Pax Terra

“
So the endgame
has begun,” said Twain. “The Shadow King is making his move to conquer the Summer Country.”

“I believe so, yes,” Hank Morgan said, nodding. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken the risk of crossing directly here.”

“It was a flaunting of the rules,” said Spenser.

“Says the man sitting next to
Richard Burton”
Morgan shot back.

“The boy has a point,” said Burton.

“It was the right call,” said John, “and Ransom will hopefully soon be putting the Trump to even better use. But the question remains as to what we should do now. We can’t possibly fight a war on two fronts, in two worlds.”

“Maybe we can,” said Artus.

“What do you mean?” asked John.

Artus held up the horn Samaranth had given him. “It still has one call in it, remember? What if I used it to call the Dragons? Do you think they’d come?”

“I don’t think it would help,” said John. “Remember those whose shadows became Shadow-Born? They were little more than wraiths, drained of life. I think the Dragons might be the same.”

A tearing sound ripped across the hilltop ...

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” asked Twain. “If the dragons have any strength at all, it’s only a blessing to our side.”

“Actually, that wasn’t what I was thinking at all,” said Artus. “I’ve already given up the Dragons for lost. But I think they—or at least, their shadows—might still be summoned by the horn.”

“Forgive me if I missed something,” said Hawthorne, “but aren’t they under our adversary’s control?”

Burton chuckled. “That’s exactly his point, you idiot.”

“Burton’s right,” John said, looking at Artus with admiration. “I think it might work, Artus.”

“What might, John?” asked Jack.

“The Horn of Bran Galed will summon the Dragon shadows— and draw them all away from the Summer Country,” said John. “It might make our job harder here, but at least for the moment, it would spare the rest of the world.”

The Caretakers looked at one another, then nodded their agreement, and the King of the Silver Throne walked outside, put the horn to his lips, and blew.

The note was clear and pure, and took long moments to fade.

“What happens now?” asked Jack.

“We wait,” said Artus. “The last time, I—”

Suddenly, without warning, the skies went dark all around the Nameless Isles.

Swirling up like an impenetrable fog, the darkness rose on all sides, leaving only a small circlet of open sky above the ring of islands.

“Is it an eclipse?” Nemo asked.

“I wish it were,” said Jack through clenched jaws. “Do you see what I’m seeing, Charys?”

The centaur nodded grimly. “I fear there is no way to strategize, no way to rally for opposition like this,” he said, wheeling about. “All we can hope for is a quick, noble death.”

“What is it?” Nemo asked as Charys trotted away to organize the captains of the Dragonships. “What are you both so afraid of?”

“That’s not just darkness,” Jack said. “It’s
shadow.
And it’s not just any shadow. It’s the shadows of the
Dragons”

“What can we do?”

“We fight as long as we can,” Jack said, “and pray for a miracle.”

“Why hasn’t the darkness covered the sky completely?” John said. “Why haven’t the Shadows simply fallen down and overwhelmed us?”

“It’s why I built Tamerlane House here,” said Poe. “This grouping of islands is among the oldest lands on the Earth, or hadn’t you noticed? They form a giant Ring of Power. The original rings were built by the giants—but they modeled them after this place. The shadows cannot come in, but neither can we leave.”

“And in the meantime, the armies of the Shadow King will sweep through and devastate us,” said Charles. “Wonderful.”

“We have our own armies,” said John, “and I have faith in them. We just need to hold out until Rose can return with the sword.”

Burton laughed. “Do you really believe that that’s going to help?”

“You’ve chosen your side, Richard, whether or not we’ve accepted you back,” said Twain. “Our fate is now yours—so if you have something useful to contribute, now’s the time.”

“I’ll tell you what I can,” said Burton, “although it may be too late. He is bringing an army you cannot fight.”

“Cannot defeat?” said Charles.

“No,” said Burton. “Cannot
fight”

“Shadow-Born?”

“No. He took the cauldron only so that it could not be used against him,” said Burton. “The Spear of Destiny is more compelling, and easier to use. All he need do is speak one’s True Name, and bind them, then he can take the shadows with the spear. Using the doors of the keep, we could catch the Dragons unawares, and with the shadows of the Dragons, he has no need of anyone else’s.”

“But if the Dragon shadows cannot cross into the Nameless Isles,” said John, “then it’s a stalemate.”

“Aren’t you listening?” Burton exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table. “Stupid little Caretaker. Years ago I warned you, and still your vision is too small.

“Once you have been defeated, his conquest of the Archipelago will be complete, and the shadows of the Dragons will sweep across the Frontier and back into the Summer Country. But he won’t need them to defeat you, because he has an army you cannot fight.”

“The only enemy a man cannot defeat by combat is himself,” said Shakespeare.

“Finally the idiot savant speaks wise,” said Burton.

“What are you talking about?” said John.

“This,” Burton said, rising to his feet. He strode to a curtain and threw open the shutters. “Look and see for yourselves. Your enemies have arrived.”

The Caretakers crowded around the windows and looked in the direction Burton was pointing.

A Time Storm was forming out over the water. The clouds roiled about, flashing with lighting, as seven shapes emerged and entered the Nameless Isles.

“Oh, no,” John whispered. “It isn’t possible.”

“I’ve been waiting for them all these years,” said Burton. “I’m surprised you haven’t been.”

Out on the edge of the harbor, in front of the defensive line of Dragonships, seven more ships drew up close and stopped.

They weren’t just ships—they were the Dragonships
themselves,
brought out of the past by the Shadow King and led by a fourteen-year-old Stephen and the half-clockwork sons of Jason of myth.

“And thus is the history fulfilled,” Bert murmured. “If Stellan and the others don’t return soon, this is truly the end for us all.”

On the large, outermost of the Nameless Isles, Artus despaired.

“Are those what I think they are?” he said grimly.

“Yes,” Jack said, stunned. “Those are the ships we saw in the Underneath, and attacking Kor! But how could he do this? How did he bring them here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Artus, summoning Laura Glue and the Valkyries. “We can’t fight them. They are our own children. The best we can do is try to hold them back long enough for—”

“I know,” said Jack.

“Spread the word,” Artus told Laura Glue. “All ships to the air, where they cannot follow us. And those of us on the ground should be instructed: defense only. No child is to be harmed, if we can help it. They are being compelled, and their wills are not their own.”

“Consider this,” Jack said as Laura Glue sped off. “When they returned to us during the conflict in the Underneath, after being pulled away in Time, they were battered and bruised, but unharmed. This was when they were pulled
to.
Things may yet turn out in our favor.”

“Or it means that they wiped us out here,” said Artus. “Whatever happens, we’ll hold them, won’t we Jack?”

“We will,” Jack said, gripping his friend’s shoulder.

There was a stirring of a westward breeze in the Pygmalion Gallery, and Rose, Archimedes, Quixote, and Ransom stepped through the portal from Terminus.

“What must we do now?” asked Rose.

Ransom went to the window and looked up at the sky.

“I just pray we haven’t come too late,” he said. “The Shadow King is here.”

“Archie,” Rose said. “Get to Bert and the Caretakers, right away! They need to know about Defoe!”

Obediently, Archimedes flew from the room.

“We have to go outside,” Rose said to Quixote. “I don’t know what’s to be done, but we need to get to the king or queen.”

“According to the Prophecy,” said Ransom, “the sword is for you to use.”

“It never occurred to me to ask,” said Quixote. “Do you even know how to use a sword?”

“The one good thing about British boarding schools,” Rose said as they left the gallery, “is that the better ones all teach fencing. And I wouldn’t be my grandfather’s heir if I hadn’t taken first place in the competition.”

“John!” Hawthorne shouted from down the corridor outside the conservatory. “Come quickly! Hurry!”

John and several other Caretakers rushed out to see what the matter was. It was Jakob Grimm. Hawthorne was half carrying, half dragging him down the hall, trailing blood.

“It’s how they found us!” Hawthorne said as they pushed open a door to one of the spare rooms. “They took Jakob’s map off his back!”

“I’m sorry!” Jakob cried through the tears and mucus running down his face. “I didn’t want to bring them! I fought it, as hard as I could! But then they took what they wanted anyway, and it’s all for nothing!”

“What is, Jakob?” asked John, getting his arm under the poor man’s shoulder to help Hawthorne place him on a settee. “What’s for nothing?”

“The Shadow King promised,” Jakob sobbed. “He said if I cooperated, he would let my brother live. And I resisted!”

“If he promised something like that,” said Chaucer, “then I suspect your brother is already dead.”

Jakob collapsed in a heap of shuddering sobs as the Caretakers and several of the ravens began tending to his terrible wound.

“Grimalkin and I found him in one of the upper rooms,” Hawthorne said, looking appreciatively at the Cheshire cat that had appeared at their feet. “Somehow, a spy is still among us.”

“How are they getting in?” John asked, pounding a wall in frustration. “We’ve sealed off the gallery and posted guards at both ends. Is it possible there is another Trump hidden inside the house somewhere?”

“Doubtful,” said Twain. “There are very few of those sheets unaccounted for, and even fewer people trained in making them. So unless you know someone with a magic box that people can just pop in and out of, I’m at a loss.”

“Magic box!” John exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “You’re a genius, Samuel!”

“Was there ever a doubt?” Twain called out as John tore from the room. He looked down at Grimalkin, who was missing his torso. “What did I say?”

John burst through the doors of the conservatory. “Jamie!” he said, panting from exertion. “When you died, who handled your estate?”

“My boys, of course,” Jamie replied. “Why?”

“For your personal belongings, certainly,” said John, “but what about items relating to the Archipelago?”

Jamie shrugged. “I had practically nothing left there in London,” he said. “Only a few papers, and the old wardrobe—and I left those to you, Jack, and Charles.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said John. “Because we jumped forward in time by going through the Trump, we weren’t there to claim anything.”

“But the wardrobe is still useless without the second one,” said Jamie, “and it’s—”

“Safely in Paralon?” John finished. “Under the control of the Senate, and the new Chancellor?”

“Oh, my stars and garters,” said Jamie.

At that moment, Archimedes flew into the room.

“Archie!” John exclaimed in shock. “You’ve come back! Is the professor—”

“No time, no time!” the owl squawked. “I know who the traitor is!”

Quickly Archimedes related to the Caretakers what he had learned from Captain Johnson, and as he spoke, they became more and more resolved.

“We must talk to Poe,” John said. “Right away!”

The new Dragonships commandeered by the children pulled onto the beach, and the spellbound young warriors began to pour from the holds.

“There are thousands of them!” Charys cried. “How can we do this? How do we fight children?”