The Shadow Dragons

by James A. Owen

  “Repentance?” Jack sputtered. “But I haven’t done anything! Or at least, not yet! And even then, at worst it’s because I go teach at another university?”

  “Not just another university,” Charles said. ”Cambridge. Not only have we been joking about it for all these years, but according to Bert, the only Caretakers who have ever really botched the job came from Cambridge, not Oxford. It’s basically a cursed place, as far as these little fellows are concerned.”

  As if to punctuate Charles’s point, a smallish badger intern carrying a bundle of ribbon markers stopped and looked at them, whiskers quivering.

  Jack gave it a little wave, and in response the tiny mammal burst into tears and went running from the room.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Jack.

  “I’d better do all the talking while we’re here,” Charles said, laying a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Apparently I don’t do anything controversial at all in the fifties.”

  The great palace at Paralon was still recognizable, as it was a massive edifice that would resist change or alteration—but the regal air that had permeated the entire island capital of the Archipelago had been replaced with something . . . different.

  “Mmm,” said Charles, inhaling deeply. “Smells like bureaucracy.”

  “I’m sure you meant to say ‘democracy,’” said Jack.

  “What’s the difference?” Charles replied. “Either way, I suspect that Artus got in over his head.”

  “He’s probably been reading too many American Histories, I’m afraid,” said Jack. “There’s a lot to advocate for, and I believe his ambitions are nobly based—but I think he may have been better off with his parliamentary-oriented monarchy.”

  Instead of the Great Hall, where visitors would normally have been received, the Valkyries led the companions to a large storeroom which had been converted into an office. Artus, the former king of Paralon, rose and greeted them warmly.

  “My dear friends,” he said happily. “It’s wonderful to see you. I’m so glad you’re not dead!”

  “As are we,” said Jack, “but we’ve apparently missed out on a lot of new developments, including, ah, fashion trends.”

  “Oh, yes, the armbands,” Artus said with a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Apparently the controversy that’s fired up the badgers involves my future,” Jack said, “or one of them, at any rate. We’ve accidentally leaped some seven years ahead of where—uh, when we were meant to be, so I realize that there will be articles of common knowledge to you that will be incomprehensible to us. But how is it that the badgers know things that won’t happen for another decade?”

  “It’s the Time Storms,” Artus explained. “They ebb and flow, and occasionally deposit something here that shouldn’t be. It’s all fallout from the destruction of the Keep of Time. So Bert has occasionally had to share something he knows about the future, so we don’t completely derail it in the present.”

  “Is there any way, maybe something Samaranth or the Cartographer might know, that can keep the Time Storms from getting worse?” asked Charles.

  “That’s the problem,” Artus said with a grimace. “They haven’t gotten worse, they’ve gotten better. In fact, they’ve almost completely stopped.”

  “Pardon my ignorance,” said Charles, “but wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

  “No,” Jack interjected, realizing what Artus was getting at. “It wouldn’t. If the fall of the keep and the loss of the doors are what threw a myriad of portals into time itself to the four winds, then the only way that they can be reined in again is—”

  “Is if someone’s repaired the tower,” finished Charles, “and restored the doors.”

  “Worse,” said Artus. “Someone may be building another tower altogether.”

  As they talked, Artus ordered some food and drink to be brought in. A short time later Bert and Ransom joined them, and the philologist relayed the terrible news about Kor.

  “This is awful,” Artus said. “Kor was one of the islands fighting against protectorate status.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Jack. “What does that mean?”

  “The Senate has been preparing for an eventual attack by the Winter King,” Artus explained, “by promising increased protective measures from the republic in exchange for oaths of fealty. It was a plan presented by a very influential man on the rise named Chancellor Murdoch.”

  “Chancellor?” said Jack. “Which land does he represent?”

  “That’s the strange part,” said Bert. “No one seems to know. He appeared out of nowhere, with no history, no credentials that I can find, and yet all the primary leaders in the Archipelago—save for Artus and Aven—have embraced him and his counsel.”

  “It’s surprising that I’ve never heard of him,” said Jack. “I consider myself very well up-to-date on events in the Archipelago.”

  “We’ve also missed seven years,” Charles reminded him.

  “I’m hoping you might still know something about him,” Artus said. “There’s a belief that he might actually be a leader from your world.”

  “One of our people?” exclaimed Charles. “Here? That smacks of Burton’s involvement, if you ask me.”

  “I hope not,” said Artus. “The Chancellor is proving to be very popular—and in a republic, that alone can carry the day. Burton is already a thorn in our sides, but if a world leader from the Summer Country is becoming our best ally against the Winter King, then I don’t see how he wouldn’t be involved.”

  “What does the Chancellor look like?” asked Jack.

  “Our agents, particularly Ransom, have managed to acquire a few photographs of him,” Artus said as he spread several pictures out on the table. “The one thing that’s peculiar about him is that in all of the pictures, he’s seen holding this spear.”

  “That looks very familiar,” said Charles, “but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “I can,” said Jack with a groan. “And I have. It’s the spear we took from Mordred in Camelot. It was called the Lance of Longinus, but you’d know it better as the Spear of Destiny.”

  “Great Scott!” Charles exclaimed. “But what did you have to do with it?”

  “John and I gave it to Chaz, when he became the first Green Knight,” said Jack. “And every Green Knight since has carried it, including . . .”

  “Magwich,” Artus said.

  “Well, now we know where that idiot Maggot went,” Charles fumed. “He threw in with this Chancellor, and he gave him the spear.”

  “What’s the connection between the Green Knight and the Chancellor, though?” asked Jack. “How would someone from our world even know about Magwich or the spear?”

  “Here’s your connection,” Charles said darkly. “Look at this photo—the close-up in profile. Do you recognize him?”

  “Yes,” Bert declared. “I have seen him before!”

  “The Red King,” said Jack. “From the Clockwork Parliament! But I thought they’d all been destroyed after our first trip into the Archipelago!”

  Artus was crestfallen. “So did we,” he said. “Apparently, we were mistaken.”

  “That’s not all we’ve overlooked,” said Ransom. “Look more closely at the photo.”

  “Hmm,” said Charles. “That’s a puzzler.”

  “You see it, don’t you?” asked Ransom.

  “I think so,” said Charles. “The light source is on the right, so all the people are casting shadows to the left. But the Red King, Chancellor Murdoch, or whoever he is—well, he appears to have two shadows.”

  “Lord preserve us,” breathed Jack. “Now we know where the Winter King’s Shadow went. It wasn’t destroyed after all.”

  “The Chancellor isn’t preparing the Archipelago to fight the Winter King,” said Ransom. “He is the Winter King.”

  PART FOUR

  The Town That Wasn’t

  There

  There were other familiar fac
es as well . . .

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Legendarium

  Richard Burton was a man used to responsibility. What he was not used to was accountability, especially when the rules of the game he was playing suddenly changed.

  “The last door was defective,” he said gruffly. “I don’t know what the problem was.”

  “Define ‘defective,’” said the Chancellor.

  Burton could always tell when the Chancellor was upset. There was a strange whirring sound emanating from his chest, and his neck made an odd clicking noise when he spoke. Not good.

  “It didn’t open into a time, it opened into a place,” said Burton. “A small stone room that was completely empty. No exit, and no dragon. We’ve already discarded the door.”

  “Fine,” said the Chancellor. “We’ll be done soon enough anyway.”

  “What about the Caretakers?”

  “They know where to look now,” the Chancellor said, glancing at Kipling. “And they will be coming, make no mistake.”

  “Should I summon the others to return as well, before they’re found out too?” Kipling asked.

  “No,” the Chancellor said after considering the question. “They may yet be useful where they are.”

  “You realize I can’t go back. They’ll be watching now.”

  “That’s what we want,” came the reply. “They’ll be looking for you, and not watching their backs. That’s how I was able to procure this.” The Chancellor held up an object.

  Kipling went pale. “How did you get that?”

  The Chancellor laughed, and it was a harsh, grating sound. “Let’s just say your report was useful, and two of your colleagues have finally redeemed themselves.”

  “The timing of the attack on Kor is no coincidence,” said Artus. “The next scheduled referendum at the Senate is regarding whether or not to give increased powers to the Chancellor. And as the islands that have joined the protectorate remain untouched, while a powerful nation such as Kor is in flames, I have no doubt the motion will be overwhelmingly passed.”

  “When is the referendum scheduled?” asked Bert.

  “Tonight.”

  “Can’t you stop it?” asked Jack. “Or postpone it? Or something? You’re the king!”

  “An honorary title within the republic,” said Artus. “I have more influence than power, and with the Chancellor’s allies, I have far less influence than he.”

  “I’m guessing his allies include the Goblins and the Trolls?” asked Charles.

  “The Goblins remain apart from the rest of us,” said Artus, “but the Trolls were early participants in the protectorate.”

  “And this didn’t set off any alarm bells for you?” asked Jack.

  “Why would it?” Artus replied. “While war has run rampant in the Summer Country, we’ve had relative peace here—and the protectorate initiative has been taking care of the lands rather than invading them. We’ve been watching for an attack from the Winter King, not a fruit basket.”

  “He’s attacked you now, though,” said Charles. “Can’t you use that against him?”

  “How?” asked Artus. “The Chancellor will decry the attack and want to rally to Kor’s aid! Anything I say, with only suspicion and photographs as evidence, will look like a personal attack.”

  “Not to mention that it will alert the Chancellor—uh, Winter King—whatever he is that we know what he’s up to,” Bert put in. “I have an alternate suggestion. We should consult Samaranth for advice. Outside of Verne or Poe, he’ll have a better idea of what to do than anyone.”

  Reluctantly, Artus agreed. It felt a bit like cowardice, to slip away from the palace to plan and prepare, but it was the only sensible option if their beliefs proved true. “We’ll leave shortly,” he said as he threw the photos into a leather satchel. “I’ll take some precautions here first, and I’ll meet you at the badger’s garage.”

  “I have other matters to attend to for the Caretakers,” said Ransom, “but I’ll stay close.”

  “Let’s go,” said Bert. “The clock is ticking.”

  Fred was more than happy to see the scholars again, particularly Charles. He took great pride in showing the Caretaker every part of the garage where the principles were maintained, while Jack and Bert outfitted a vehicle for the trip to see Samaranth.

  “So, Fred,” Charles said, “other than the family traditions of publishing and automotive care, tell me what else you’ve been studying these years past.”

  “As much as I can of just about everything, Scowler Charles,” replied Fred. “I read what I can when I’m not working with my father at the press—although if it were up to my grandfather, I’d still be in cooking school.”

  “If it hadn’t been for your grandfather, we would never have defeated the Winter King,” Charles explained, “and if not for you and your father, Jack and John would never have been able to rescue Hugo Dyson.”

  “T’ be fair, Scowler Charles,” Fred said, “it was partially our fault Hugo got trapped in time t’ begin with.”

  “Sure,” said Charles. “And your willingness to acknowledge your mistakes, and to learn from them, is one of the main reasons I’ve decided to give you this.”

  Fred looked down. In Charles’s hand was a silver pocket watch, emblazoned with a red dragon. The symbol of an apprentice Caretaker.

  “A Samaranth watch!” Fred exclaimed, still unsure of what was happening. “But—but—Scowler Charles—you don’t really mean t’ give that t’ me?”

  Charles nodded. “I do. Jack has told me how much help you were to Hugo, and of how diligently you were studying to become a true scholar. So I know of no one who deserves it more.” He placed the watch into the small mammal’s trembling paw, then closed his fingers over it.

  “You know what this means, and you understand the responsibility that comes with it. So don’t disappoint me.”

  Fred was shaking with excitement. “I won’t! I promise!” He stopped and furrowed his brow. “Does this have to be a secret? Or can I tell someone? I mean, someones?”

  “It’s supposed to be a very secret thing,” said Charles, “so just be careful about who you do choose to tell. I’m guessing your father and grandfather?”

  The badger nodded. “Yes, Scowler Charles.”

  “That should be fine. And Fred—you’re my apprentice now. You can just call me Charles.”

  “Thank you Scowl—I mean, thank you, Charles!” Fred said as he walked away in as dignified a manner as he could without appearing to want to run.

  “Holy hell, lad,” Charles called after him. “Run. Run and tell them!”

  Without a backward glance, the badger broke into a dead run, his feet barely touching the ground.

  In short order, Bert, Artus, and Jack had joined Charles and his newly appointed apprentice in a spacious six-wheeled principle called the Strange Attractor. Fred took the wheel and soon revealed himself to be an expert driver. The trip was innocuous enough, and the engine loud enough, that the companions could talk without being overheard as they traveled.

  The first time John, Jack, and Charles met the great dragon Samaranth, he was the only dragon left in the Archipelago. All the other dragons had abandoned the lands and the service of the king, because he had proven himself to be unworthy to call on them.

  Now Jack and Charles were again going to see Samaranth, and again he was the only dragon left—but this time, it was because Artus, as the king, had sent them away in the belief that as long as the dragons were always there to solve any problems, he and his people would never fully mature as a race.

  “Of course I went to Samaranth first,” Artus explained to Jack and Charles, “and when I told him what I planned to do, he was quiet for a very long time. Then, when he finally answered, he asked a question.”

  “What did he ask you?” said Jack.

  “He asked if I had ever seen a baby bird that pushed past its parents and tried to leave the nest before it was ready. I told him I had. And the
n he asked if I knew what birds like that were called, and I said no.”

  “What did he say they were called?” asked Jack.

  “Lunch.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Charles. “Is that all he said to you?”

  “No,” said Artus. “He told me that I was the King of the Silver Throne, and the dragons served at my pleasure and could be released from service by blowing a horn that he kept in his cave. He said it was very old, and then he said something I didn’t understand—he told me it was from a time and place before he was a dragon.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Jack. “So what did you do?”

  Artus sighed. “I blew the horn. Then I came back to the castle and formed a republic. Everything has been utter chaos ever since.”

  “Well,” said Jack, “sometimes the magic works.”

  “And sometimes, you really wish it hadn’t,” said Artus. “I wonder if it’s possible to unblow a horn?”

  “It isn’t possible to unblow a horn,” Samaranth said disapprovingly. “You’re intelligent enough to know that, Artus.”

  It had not taken the companions long to reach Samaranth’s cavern, and once they were there, it took even less time for them to realize that he was not pleased to see them.

  “The Caretakers have not remained steadfast in their jobs,” he said in a raspy voice, “and the King of the Silver Throne has handled his stewardship with even less aplomb.”

  “We’ve dealt with every crisis we’ve been called to,” Jack pointed out. “Minor and major. And we’ve always emerged triumphant.”

  Samaranth snorted one, twice, and then three times—and they realized he was laughing. “Triumphant? Really? With the Keep of Time nearly destroyed, the Morgaine and the Green Knight gone from Avalon, and a new power rising in the Archipelago who may in fact be the enemy you were brought to defeat to begin with? In what way do you consider that triumphant, little Caretakers?”

  “We’re learning the value of persistence,” said Charles. “That’s a start.”