The First Dragon (Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica, The) (29 page)

“The Lonely Isle,” said Fred. “The last haven in all the world.”

“There’s an inn on top,” Charles shouted over the wind. “Aim for that, and let’s see if we can’t land without crashing.”

They needn’t have worried—once they were close to the inn,
the storm stopped. It was around the island, but in the center, it was calm. Outside the inn were some scrubby trees where they could tie up the goats and leave the airship.

“We’re either just in time, or barely too late,” Jack said. He pointed to the other side of the island, where a familiar black ship, also converted to an airship, had been moored.

“The
Black Dragon
, or, ah,
Black Cat
, or whatever it is now,” Charles sputtered. “They’re already here!”

Quickly the companions rushed up to the door, which swung open at their approach. A tall, stern-looking woman with a frazzle of graying hair spread out behind her stood there, appraising the newcomers.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked. “This is no place for visitors. There is a price to pay to sup at this inn.”

“What price is that?” Madoc asked.

“One life, for one hour here,” she said. “One of you must give themselves to death, or none may enter.”

“All of us are coming in,” Laura Glue said as she rummaged through her bag. “I’ve got a pass.”

She pulled out the bone hourglass that the Serendipity Box had given her, turned it over, and twisted the valve. Slowly the grains began to slide through the neck of the glass.

“This is acceptable,” the woman said, “as long as you understand that all of your party must abide by the glass. If any still remain on this island when the sand runs out, then all are forfeit, and if you cross the threshold again, you will die the final death, and not return.”

“I understand,” said Laura Glue.

The woman could barely suppress her expression of surprise
and delight. “Then you are welcome here on Youkali,” she said, “but there is one more caveat—whatever you are Named, you must cross this threshold as you really are. None can be here in this place except as they truly are, and not as they appear.”

“We know who we are,” Rose said. “And we’re not afraid to pass.”

The woman stood aside, and one by one, the companions entered. Rose and Edmund simply walked across the threshold, unchanged, as did Uncas and Fred.

“We animals in’t very complicated,” Uncas explained as they passed.

Charles also passed unchanged. “I do feel a bit more like a writer than an editor,” he said, “but I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Quixote, however, youthened considerably as he entered the inn. “To be young in one’s heart is the greatest achievement,” he said.

“Good work,” said Uncas.

Jack’s change was much more dramatic, as was Madoc’s.

On entering, Jack became a boy again, as he had once been on the island of the Lost Boys. And Madoc lost his wings, and much of his age, becoming a fresh-faced youth not much older than Jack.

“Ah,” said Charles. “So now we see the truth of things. And our Madoc truly is Madoc again.”

“Come,” the woman said as she ushered them into the next room. “You may join our other guests for tea.”

In the main room, the companions were astonished to see the tea party taking place. Sitting around an elaborately set table were five guests: a very young man with red hair that kept spilling
into his eyes; a very young woman who was demurely nibbling at a cookie; an older, bearded man who wore an expression of such sadness that it was almost palpable; a very aged man, who was so old that his skin resembled the most fragile parchment, and whose eyes radiated hatred; and a badger, who immediately leaped up to greet the newcomers.

The reunion of Tummeler with his son and grandson, and with his old partner Charles, was so filled with joy and happiness that even the old woman started to tear up. The three badgers and the Caretaker whooped and hollered and hugged one another until it seemed they would burst.

“To see that, something so wonderful, I would pay almost any price,” the young man said.

“Samaranth?” Rose exclaimed. “Is that you?”

“It is,” the young angel replied, nodding, “but you’ve come just moments too late. I’ve already lost the Archipelago to Dr. Dee.”

♦  ♦  ♦

The companions all suddenly realized that there were hourglasses of bone identical to Laura Glue’s in front of each of the guests, but only one, in front of the old man with the terrible visage, was still trickling sand through the glass.

As if in confirmation of Samaranth’s words, he reached out and grasped a crystal box, which was glowing a soft purple, and pulled it across the table closer to him.

“The Archipelago,” said the man they now realized was Dee, “is
mine
.”

“How did you cross the threshold?” Charles exclaimed. “You would have to sacrifice a life to—”

“That’s exactly what I did,” Dee said, gesturing at a
sorry-looking shadow in the far corner. “What do you think I brought Crowley for?”

“My time ran out, all too quickly,” Samaranth said, “and as Sycorax can confirm, I cannot take the Amethyst Box with me without destroying the entire Archipelago.”

“But the time limits,” Jack began.

“The box is protected,” the woman Sycorax said, “but it must be taken elsewhere, away from this house, before it can be opened.”

“We can take it!” Rose exclaimed, reaching for the box.

“No!” Dee shouted. “I have already claimed it! By the rules of Deep Magic, it is mine!”

“Is that true?” Rose asked Samaranth as her face fell. “Is it his?”

“Yes,” said Samaranth. “It is. But the box can only be opened with a Master Key, and the Master Key may only be turned by an angel, or,” he said, pointedly not looking at Madoc, “by a
Dragon
.”

“Hah!” said Uncas. “You really blew it then, Dee. We got the only Dragon left, an’ he’ll
never
help you.”

Dr. Dee ignored the badger, instead focusing his attention on Rose.

“I was there, in the City of Jade, before the deluge,” Dee said, his voice soft, and his eyes glittering. “I went there for two purposes. The first was to find a Master Key—one of the keys the angels used to unlock anything in creation—and the second, to find, and bind, an angel.”

He stood and picked up the box. “Time to go,” he said, smiling at Samaranth, and then at Rose. “Be seeing you.”

Madoc, Charles, and Edmund all started to move for Dee at once, but a shout stopped them in their tracks.

“No!” Sycorax said sternly. “This is the last of the Free Houses, and no violence may be committed here.”

“In other words,” said Charles, “ ‘take it outside.’ ”

“Just so,” said Sycorax. “He still has sand in the glass and may do as he wishes.”

Rose looked at the other three glasses on the table. “But you can’t, can you?” she asked, already knowing the answer. “I think I understand. All of you here—you’re already . . .”

“Yes,” Samaranth said, nodding. “We are already on our way to the final death, where we will cross over into the next stage of being.”

“I waited,” the girl said, speaking for the first time, “so that I could meet you, the daughter of my heart.”

“Who are you?” Rose asked.

“The one who built the bridge, but could not finish it,” the girl replied. “Perhaps someday, you will finish it for me. I hope you will.”

“I just didn’t want to be alone,” the bearded man said. “I have been here a very, very long time.”

“I can tell,” Jack said, looking more closely at the man. “Someone hurt you, didn’t they? Hurt you badly.”

“I don’t think he meant to,” the man said. “He was my brother. I think he was just sad, and I think it was my fault. I’ve waited here, in case he comes, so I can tell him I’m sorry.”

Jack didn’t respond, but instead reached out and gave the man a hug, which, after a moment, he returned.

“Oh . . . oh no,” Uncas wailed, looking at Tummeler and suddenly understanding the meaning of the empty hourglass in front of Samaranth. “Does that mean . . . ?”

The old badger nodded. “It’s all right, young one. I did good,
helping Mr. Samaranth. And I got t’ see you, and Fred, and Scowler Charles. That’s a lot. In fact, that’s everything.”

“Not everything,” Dee said as he stepped out the door, “as everyone in your precious Archipelago is about to discover.”

Before anyone could stop him, Tummeler let out a loud howl and threw himself at Dee.

Samaranth jumped to his feet. “Tummeler, don’t! Don’t cross the threshold!” But it was too late.

The little badger fell to the ground, just outside the door. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his breathing stopped.

As the companions all cried out and moved to attend to Tummeler, Dee walked across the front of the island to where the black ship waited. Outside the inn, he returned to his usual appearance, but his face was still a mask of hatred.

At his approach, Mr. Kirke and Mr. Bangs stood and lifted the shipbuilder Argus roughly by the arms.

“Now,” Dee said to the shipbuilder, “do as you did with the
Black Dragon
, and release the Cherubim from the vessel. And then we will unlock the Archipelago and reshape two worlds in the image of order. In the image . . .

“. . . of the
Echthroi
.”

♦  ♦  ♦

By the time the companions who had arrived on the
Indigo Dragon
approached Dr. Dee to reclaim the Amethyst Box, Argus was nearly finished with his task.

When the shipbuilder bonded him to the hull of the
Black Dragon,
Grimalkin had still resembled a Cheshire cat. But when the process reversed, Grimalkin emerged, shaken but whole, as a very different sort of creature.

In the same way that releasing Madoc had reverted him to a more human state, the way he had been before he became a Dragon and then allowed himself to be bonded to the ship, releasing Grimalkin reverted him to being what he had been before he was bound by Dee to serve the Echthroi.

Standing atop the rocks before them, drinking in the energies of the storm swirling above, was a Cherubim—one of the oldest angels from the City of Jade. And he was not happy.

The Caretakers and the companions who had been in the city and witnessed the transformation of angels suddenly realized that the aspect of children, of youth, that angels like Samaranth wore so easily was simply so they could more easily commune with mortals. Here, now, Grimalkin had shed that aspect of himself completely.

Around his neck was the collar he had worn as a cat—but everything else had changed. He stood nearly twelve feet tall, and had four feathered wings that stretched out behind him like a wall of steel feathers. He had great claws and wore armor that was stretched tight over muscles that rippled with the power of heaven itself. But most significantly, he now had four faces: the face of an ox, the face of an eagle, the face of a lion, and the face of a man, which bore some of the aspects of the Cheshire cat that so many around Tamerlane House had seen so often.

“Fear me, little thing,” the angel rumbled, looking at Dee. “You have summoned your own doom.”

“I’m not afraid of any Dragon who ever was,” Dee said menacingly, “or of any
angel
. And I am prepared for you . . .
Shaitan
.”

Shaitan, far from being cowed as Dee expected, merely smiled and spread his arms. “I am not a Dragon, as you can plainly see,”
he said, his voice a soft purr that nevertheless carried echoes of thunder in it. “I never descended, and so I am
still
an angel, still Cherubim, exactly as you intended for me to be.”

“And still able,” Dee said, “to do everything that a Dragon could do here, in this place. That is why I have released you now. To do my bidding one last time.”

“Stop!” Rose shouted as she drew Caliburn from its scabbard. “Stop, Dee! You know what I can do with this.”

“Little Imago,” Dee sneered. “It is far, far too late.”

He turned back to the angel, arms spread. In one hand, he held what looked like a green crystal. It was glowing, just like the buildings in the City of Jade. “Shaitan! The time is
now
!” Dee proclaimed, his face a mask of triumph. “Take the Master Key, so we may release the Archipelago and deliver both worlds to the eternal rule of order—so we may deliver them both to the Echthroi.”

“Excuse me,” Edmund said, raising a finger, “but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Everyone turned in surprise to look at Edmund McGee. He seldom took point in a battle, and none of them could understand why he would challenge Dee in such a manner.

The young Cartographer was holding up a trump. It depicted the towers of the City of Jade, along with a familiar face.

“Hello there,” Kipling said. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d get around to saving that world before this one meets its doom. I can see the water from here.”

“Save the commentary,” said Edmund. “Do it!”

“Grimalkin, called Shaitan, called the Cheshire cat,” Kipling said, “I release you from your Binding. Thrice I bound you; thrice I release you. I release you. I release you. I release you.”

There was a clap of thunder, and a rending of the sky as the angel’s collar flew apart and shattered into fragments of light.

“Impossible!” Dee cried. “He was bound to me! To the Echthroi! He is all but Echthros himself!”

“Bound by
you
?” Kipling asked through the trump. “That’s what
he
thought too. But a creature who is bound to one cannot be bound to another. And I got to him
first
.”

Dee looked dazed. “B-but all these years, he has served
us
!” he said, confused. “He has been a spy in the House of Tamerlane! He has killed agents of the Caretakers!”

Kipling’s expression darkened at this, but he merely nodded. “All at my direction, I’m afraid. When I bound him, that was the one thing I ordered him to do—to serve John Dee, and follow his orders as if he were bound to him, until the day when I released him. Which,” he added, smiling more broadly now, “I just
did
.”