The Indigo King

by James A. Owen

  Taliesin shook his head. “Our father is long gone,” he said flatly, “but our mothers remain. The Grail may be found with them.”

  “Calypso and Circe,” said John. “They’re still alive?”

  “They, or an aspect of them,” answered Taliesin. “On an island of glass, that is both here and not here. In this time, they are often called the Pandora, after our ancestor.”

  “The Morgaine,” Jack declared, shaking his fist triumphantly. “The Morgaine! Of course! That means the Grail is on Avalon!”

  “And of course,” Hugo said, “you just happen to know how to get to Avalon.”

  “Of course,” John told him. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Just asking,” said Hugo.

  “There’s a river near the great stone,” Jack said to Hank. “Are there any boats nearby? Anything we might use?”

  “They’ve all been destroyed,” Hank said. “Used for raw materials in the siege. I don’t think there’s even a toy boat to be had for a thousand miles.”

  Jack scratched his ear. “Huh,” he murmured. “What do you know.”

  “What?” said Hank.

  Jack stuck his hand in his pocket. “We do have that much at least, right here,” he replied, removing the miniature ship in a bottle he’d been given by the Serendipity Box. “Take us to the river.”

  Taliesin offered to stay with the body, to protect it, and the companions bade him farewell and reentered the stone tunnel. Jack followed last, pausing only to retrieve Mordred’s spear. “I don’t intend to use it,” Jack told the others, “but I’d rather that Mordred didn’t have the chance to use it again either.”

  At the other end of the passageway, as before, the forest was empty. “Thank God for small favors,” said Hank. “They’re all massed at the gates.”

  It was not far to a sloping path that led the companions to the flowing water of the river. It was thickly clotted with debris along the shore’s edge, but ran clear in the middle, and not too many miles distant, opened up into the sea.

  “What do you think, fellows?” Jack asked, cradling the small bottle in his hands. “How do we get it out?”

  “Bert simply threw the scarab brooch,” said John. “Maybe you should toss it into the water.”

  “And what if it just sinks?” Jack retorted. “Then where will we be?”

  Hank grabbed the bottle out of Jack’s hands, and before the others could stop him, he had dashed it against the stones in the shallows. But they realized at once that Hank had done exactly the right thing. The tiny boat, immersed in the water, was beginning to grow.

  It took less than a minute for the toy boat to grow into a full-size, functional vessel. It resembled a small Portuguese caravel, with room enough for the companions and their bags, and at the front was the carved representation of a scarlet dragon.

  John and Jack nearly cheered at the sight of it. A Dragonship had considerably more meaning for them than it did the others, who were nevertheless still very impressed by the appearance of the instant boat.

  “It gave you just what you needed most,” Chaz said to Jack. “We just didn’t know it at the time.”

  “Thank God,” Jack replied, casting his eyes skyward. “And I mean that literally.”

  Chaz got in first, still carrying the bag that held the unconscious Archimedes, followed by Jack, then John. Hugo got in next and extended his hand to Hank.

  “I’m sorry, fellows,” Hank told the others, “but this is as far as I go.”

  “It’s an adventure!” Hugo said brightly. “We’re searching for the Holy Grail, don’t you see? This is the first Crusade!”

  Hank smiled blackly and folded his arms. “I understand your excitement and enthusiasm, Hugo,” he said. “I felt the same way when I first got here. But I’ve been here for too many months, and seen more than I wanted. And I think I’ve had my fill of adventuring.”

  “There’s a chance this will all change, you know,” Jack pointed out. “That’s what we’re trying to do, anyway.”

  Hank glanced over his shoulder at the rising clouds of smoke that were darkening an already blackened sky, then up at the haloed sun that was nearly in full eclipse. “I always remain hopeful, but in this case, I think the game’s already been called,” he said bleakly. “If this isn’t the end of the world, it’s a damn good imitation. And at this point, I think all I can do is try to stay at the edges of the chaos, and record what I can, before …” He let the words trail off.

  “Can’t you go back?” Hugo implored. “With the watch?”

  “The what?” asked Hank. “I don’t even know how I got here, much less how I’m going to get home.”

  “The watch,” Hugo repeated. “The one that Sam Clemens gave you, that allows you to travel in time.”

  Hank looked at the professor as if he were crazy, then chuckled wryly. “I’d say you were losing your marbles, if we weren’t where we are. If, by some miracle, you ever come across one of those watches, let me know, will you?”

  Hugo turned and looked pointedly at John, who opened up the bag he was carrying. “Maybe you can find it yourself,” John said, removing the Serendipity Box and handing it to Hugo, who handed it to Hank. “Open that and tell us what you see.”

  Obediently Hank lifted the lid and smiled in confused surprise. “You’ve been having me on the whole time, haven’t you?” he asked as he took out the small silver pocket watch that was inside the box. “What does the dragon represent?”

  “Hope,” said John. “It represents hope.”

  “How does it work?”

  John shook his head. “I don’t know. But we were told—by you, actually—that it will let you travel in time.”

  “There’s a note underneath,” Hank said. “It reads, ‘Midnight takes you back.’”

  “The rest is up to you, it seems,” said Hugo, clapping Hank on the shoulder. “Remember us to Sam, won’t you?”

  “Verne,” Jack said suddenly. “That’s what we need to ask of you, Hank. Remember us to Jules Verne.”

  “Okay,” Hank agreed, still uncertain of what he was being asked or expected to do. “How do I contact him?”

  “I think you’ll see him when you leave this place,” Jack told him, “in another time. Just remember to tell him when and where you got the watch, and from whom.”

  “I will,” said Hank, tapping the dials. “What happens when I turn it to mid—”

  Hank vanished.

  “That’s that, boys,” Hugo said, dusting off his hands. “I think he’s going where he needs to go, and now, so must we.”

  He sat in the bow of the boat, which then pulled away from the cluttered shallows and into the swiftly flowing water at the middle of the river.

  “So we’re on an actual Crusade, then?” Chaz said. “Your Charles would have loved this, wouldn’t he?”

  “He would, absolutely,” said John.

  The small boat, which John had dubbed the Scarlet Dragon, operated in exactly the way they had hoped. In only a few minutes, the smoke in the air had turned to fog, and it clouded thickly around the craft and its passengers.

  Moments passed, and the fog began to thin, then clear completely, and they were sailing in open waters, far from any shore. “Extraordinary,” Hugo breathed, looking around at the horizon. “It’s like we’ve come into another world entirely.”

  “Not entirely,” Jack said, pointing at the sky. The sun above was still eclipsed and hadn’t changed. “Avalon lies on the transition line between our world and the Archipelago, so we won’t have to completely cross the frontier. But,” he added tensely, “if this doesn’t work, that may not matter.”

  Within a few hours, the familiar outlines of the island of Avalon appeared on the western horizon. The sky was already dark enough that they could barely make out the thunderheads beyond that marked the true line of the Frontier—the boundary that protected the Archipelago of Dreams.

  As the Scarlet Dragon approached, it became evident that this was not entirely
the island John and Jack knew. Their Avalon was almost abandoned. Only the three who were one, the witches known as the Morgaine, lived there, with an occasional guest, and were guarded by a succession of old knights. While this Avalon appeared similarly empty, the buildings were not in ruins, as they were in the Caretakers’ time. The temples, all Greek, were whole and untouched by time or man.

  The shore was clean and afforded an easy landing on the beach in front of them. They pulled the Scarlet Dragon up onto the sand, then turned to decide where to go.

  “We should be wary,” John cautioned. “The Green Knight of this time would not know us, and he won’t be as feeble as Darnay, nor as stupid as Magwich.”

  They approached the centermost temple, but no one greeted them, no knight, no squire. “Well,” Jack declared, “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

  In defiance of Jack’s statement, the torches along the walls suddenly blazed into life, and a chill wind swept through the courtyard.

  The companions instinctively backed toward a group of the white marble columns for cover and scanned the buildings to see if they were still alone.

  They were not.

  From the north a regal woman appeared, hair bound up in the classical Greek manner, underneath a silver circlet. She was dressed in a flowing gown of gossamer silk, with a golden belt that matched her sandals, and walked with the assurance of someone who wielded great power. She strode to the center of the courtyard and stepped up to a dais, where she sat on an elegantly sculpted bench.

  From the south another woman had appeared, just as beautiful as the first, but whose countenance shone with a terrible power. Her long, beautiful hair reached nearly to the floor, and she carried a broad golden bowl. Barefoot, she walked to the dais, where she stood next to the other woman. Both faced the companions.

  “I am Circe,” the standing woman said, “and we have allowed you here on Avallo because you have come bearing the sign of the Pendragon.”

  “The boat,” Jack whispered. “She means the Dragonship.”

  “Where’s the other one?” John whispered back. “There should be three.”

  “Speak,” Circe commanded. “Tell us why you have come here and what it is that you wish.”

  The companions turned to John, deferring to his authority as the Caveo Principia. He gulped and stepped forward. The Morgaine were unpredictable and usually played games. There was no reason to expect things to be different now, in the past. But what question to ask?

  “We’ve come seeking the beginning of the men called Myrddyn and Madoc,” said John.

  Circe smiled, but it seemed to John—incredibly—that the other, who must be Calypso, actually winced, then blushed.

  “Their beginning,” Circe said, “is known to us. They began as all men did, and with the same potential. But they forgot how to choose.”

  “Forgot how to choose what?” asked John.

  “How to choose,” Circe answered sternly, as if John were a bit stupid. “They forgot that choosing is always an option. There is always a choice to be made.”

  “Why are you here?” John said. “On Avalon? I know that your island is called Aiaia.”

  Circe bowed her head. “It is. And hers was Ogygia, before she came here,” she said, indicating Calypso. “We came here to the temple of Diana, which was erected by Brutus, to await our children’s return.”

  “This is the island,” Jack interjected. “This is where they wrecked the Argo.”

  Again Circe bowed her head. “Brutus built the temple with those who escaped from broken Troy, before he went to the isle of giants, called Albion, to build a kingdom of his own. No man, save for one, an old fisherman, ever returned to this island until Myrddyn and Madoc were exiled here.”

  “The fisherman was the one who helped Anaximander rescue them,” said John.

  “He was,” said Circe. “Odysseus was a vain and fickle man, but unlike Iason, he always returned to watch over his children.”

  “I wanted to ask about the Red Dragon …,” Jack began.

  “Too many questions!” Circe exclaimed. “Enough!”

  “I’m getting a good idea which of them turns into Cul,” Jack whispered.

  “What is it you wish of the Pandora?” Circe demanded again. “Speak.”

  “We come seeking the Grail,” Hugo said. “The Holy Grail.”

  John swore silently and threw a helpless glance at Jack. Hugo was not accustomed to dealing with the witches; he didn’t understand how they responded to direct statements like that.

  “At last,” Calypso said. “A plainspoken man.”

  Circe held up the golden bowl. “Choose,” she said. “The Cup of Albion, or the bloodline of Aramathea.”

  “The cup?” John whispered. “That’s not a bowl. It’s the cup of the giant Brutus slew.”

  “The bloodline of Aramathea,” Jack mused. “That’s what we thought of as well. Both have ties to Britain, and to the heritage of Arthur. But I don’t know what to choose.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Chaz said, paging furiously through the Little Whatsit. “I can’t even take a guess.”

  “Let me,” Hugo offered, stepping forward. “I choose the bloodline,” he said with no hesitation.

  Circe and Calypso nodded at each other, and a third woman, plainer than the others but still lovely, came up the steps behind them to take her place on the dais.

  “Are … are you … ?” Hugo said hesitantly. “Are you the Grail?”

  “Gwynhfar,” the woman replied, bowing her head. “I am called Gwynhfar.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Good Knight

  I have seen you before, haven’t I?” John said gently.

  “Yes,” said Gwynhfar, glancing at him. “Once, long ago, in a faraway place.”

  “Alexandria,” Jack said, realizing who she was. “You were the girl with Madoc, in the Grail chamber.”

  “Are you really a descendant of …,” Hugo began. “Are you truly of the Holy Blood?”

  “Five generations ago, my ancestor was put to death,” Gwynhfar said. “He died at the hands of the Romans, who could not bear to see their own beliefs supplanted by those he left in his wake as he traveled, teaching. And so when he returned home, they killed him. And soon after, many who followed him. So my great-great-great-granduncle Joseph gathered the family together and fled the land of our birth for a new world.

  “But,” she continued, “the beliefs and practices of the old world still held sway there, and it was not safe for us to remain. All who were descended from the great Teacher were eventually killed, save for myself and Uncle Joseph. So he arranged for me to be taken to the one place where I would be guarded, where all the great scholars of the world had come together. A place where new beliefs might be forged and fought for.”

  “And even there, in the library itself, you were not protected,” Jack murmured.

  Gwynhfar nodded. “There were those who would use me, and what I represented, to further their own aims.”

  “So when Madoc forced himself on you …,” Jack began.

  Gwynhfar looked at him in confusion. This meant nothing to her. “Forced?”

  “What I mean to say,” Jack tried again, “is that when you were, uh, attacked in Alexandria by Madoc, and he violated you—”

  “You misunderstand,” Gwynhfar interrupted. “I was not attacked. I was not … violated. Not by Madoc. How can you say that I was?”

  Jack looked at the others, now clearly confused himself. “But we thought … When Meridian spoke of his brother betraying the Grail …”

  “You are mistaken,” Gwynhfar said coldly.

  “But we were there,” Jack said cautiously, with a quick glance at John. “We saw you with Madoc and heard you scream as you fled the library.” He extended his hands, trying to understand. “Meridian defended your honor!”

  Gwynhfar snorted derisively. “You assume, and conjecture, and misread everything,” she said. “You would have been completely inadequate as my C
aretakers.”

  “We do have our moments,” John said, not sure if his own words were a defense or an admission. “Please, tell us what really happened.”

  Gwynhfar stepped down from the dais to get closer to them. She was shorter than all of them save Hugo, and surprisingly delicate.

  “Meridian and Madoc were there as two of my Caretakers,” she began, “but once Meridian discovered who I was, and why I was valued, he lost interest … mostly,” she added. “His interest in the library had more to do with the objects gathered there, such as the Cup of Albion and the Horn of Bran Galed.”

  “Old Magic artifacts,” said Jack. “But not the New World treasures, like the Lance of Longinus or …”

  “The Sangreal,” Gwynhfar finished. “Except for uses more common.”

  Her meaning dawned over the companions. “So when Ptolemy said Meridian had tried to take the Grail …,” John began.

  “He tried to take from me, against my will,” Gwynhfar explained, “that which I freely shared with Madoc, whom I loved, and who loved me in return.”

  “And we believed he was evil,” Jack said dully. “We sided with Meridian and helped to Bind his brother. And Madoc was the good one all along.”

  “Y’ mean he might have been,” said Chaz, “if we hadn’t come along an’ mucked him up.”

  “Both of my sons have made poor choices,” Calypso clarified. “Both were exiled from the Archipelago. But of the two, Madoc was the one with a spirit.”

  “Soul,” John said quietly. “She means soul.”

  “What is the difference?” Calypso asked, hearing the word John spoke. “It is the breath of the gods in him. It is his life. It is himself.”

  “Spirit, breath, wind,” Jack intoned. “My God, John, what have we done?”

  “We need to do our duty now,” replied John. “We are the Caretakers of the Archipelago.” He turned to Gwynhfar. “We need you to come with us. Something terrible has happened, and only you can help us.”

  She shook her head. “I am of the Archipelago now. The island of Avallo is as far as I will go toward the world that was.”