The Indigo King (23 page)

John looked at Jack in puzzlement. Then they both realized what was wrong. They were still in the sixth century and would not meet Samaranth, the oldest dragon, for nearly fourteen hundred more years. He would not know them, here, now. And he, as well as the other dragons, would be wondering who had known to summon them using the Ring of Power.

“Ah, what do I do now?” asked Arthur. “Offer to shake hands?”

“Not a good idea,” said Jack. “John?”

John’s mind was racing. He hadn’t really thought it through this far. He’d simply taken a wild chance that the king would be able to summon the dragons. But he needn’t have worried—someone was already in charge and knew how to proceed.

“Why have you summoned us here?” the great, smoky voice of Samaranth rumbled. He swung his head around to Arthur, who, to his credit, stood his ground and faced the dragon fearlessly. “You,” Samaranth said. “You spoke the Summoning. What gives you the authority to do so? Who has given you the words that called us here?”

“I called you of my own authority,” Arthur answered, emboldened by the fact that the dragon hadn’t simply bitten his head off straightaway. “And the words to speak were given to me by your servants, the Caretakers of the
Imaginarium Geographica
.”

Arthur made a gesture with his hands, indicating to John and Jack that they should step forward.

“Sons of Adam,” Samaranth asked, “what does this mean?”

“It means that we are also Caretakers of the Archipelago of Dreams, and true and loyal servants of the High King,” said John.

“And you support his rule?”

Jack and John both nodded. “We do.”

“Are there any others who will stand with you, little king?” asked Samaranth.

Screaming a ferocious battle cry, King Pellinor burst through the shrubbery at the edge of the trees, charging straight at the dragons. He was dressed in rags, which were tied around what little remained of his rusted and abused armor, and was running barefoot. Seeing the dragons, the king suddenly skidded to a stop—apparently, when he saw that his legendary “Questing Beast” had finally come to Albion, he had neglected to notice that several others had come as well.

Pellinor stood there, staring mutely at the dragons while his mind reeled. This was not the end to the quest he’d envisioned, nor had his grandfather, or his grandfather’s grandfather. Finally he let out a yell in frustration. “Which of you is it?” he shouted. “Which of you is the Questing Beast, appointed by destiny to be slain by the lineage of Pelles?”

The older dragons at the front almost looked as if they were grinning, John thought, if he really believed a dragon was capable of grinning. Then, in the back, a largish orange dragon with a short, stout body and a long, thick neck raised an arm and waved at Pellinor.

“Aha!” the old king exclaimed as he dropped his visor and drew his sword. “Have at thee, beast!”

Pellinor set off at a full run directly at the dragons, who moved aside to let him through to his target. Pellinor barely came up to the dragon’s knees—which did not deter him from stabbing the dragon directly in the shin. In response, the Orange Dragon reached out with a great clawed foot and stomped down on the blustering Pellinor with a crunch.

When the dragon lifted his foot, Pellinor’s right leg and left arm were twisted at sickeningly odd angles. Still, the old king persisted in stabbing at the dragon with his sword.

“This?” Pellinor bellowed, glancing at his ruined arm. “It’s just a flesh wound! I’ve had worse!”

“Your leg is also broken, you old fool,” the dragon noted.

“Making excuses not to fight me, eh, beast?” challenged Pellinor, and he attempted to chop at the dragon’s foot. “Coward! I’ll have your guts for garters!”

The Orange Dragon sighed and picked Pellinor up by the neck. He walked over to the tree line and deposited the raging king into a stout, hollow oak.

“Think you’ve won, eh?” shouted Pellinor with a now bark-muffled voice. “I can still see you, beast! I can still, uh …” There was a brief pause, as the ratty old king realized that not only was he halfcrippled, but he was also completely immobilized within the trunk.

“I can still curse you!” Pellinor yelled, looking through a knothole. “With my last breath, I shall curse at thee, from the very heart of … ah, well, this tree!”

The Orange Dragon shook his head and walked back to join the others.

“Any others, little king?” asked Samaranth.

“I think he was the last one who would have backed me,” Arthur said, embarrassed, “and he only did that much because my uncle asked him to.”

“Ah yes,” Samaranth mused. “Your uncle Mordred. He was a favorite of mine. A very good student. But he has always let his belief that events and creatures are unchangeable manipulate his choices. And that, above all, is a stupid way to live.”

“And his brother?” asked John. “Was he also your student, Samaranth?”

“He was mine,” said a smallish, lithe dragon, who stepped to the fore of the drive. “I was his teacher, and he, too, was an excellent student.”

“The Indigo Dragon speaks true,” said Samaranth. “The sons of Odysseus have always had great potential. But it has been warped, and misused, and they lost their way.”

There was a great, choking sob from behind the companions. Merlin, his eyes filled with tears, stepped forward, hands outstretched. The Indigo Dragon took him, pulled him close, and embraced him. “Ah, little boy-king.” The creature sighed. “I had hopes for you. I did. But now it seems another will have to serve in your stead as the Indigo King.”

“Was there no time I chose correctly?” Merlin asked. “No chance I had to redeem myself?”

“Almost,” said the Indigo Dragon. “Had you chosen—truly chosen—to step aside for the boy, it would have been you who was worthy to wear the Indigo Crown and sit on the Silver Throne.”

Merlin looked anguished, then nodded sadly and walked back to the companions.

“Thousands of years ago,” declared the Indigo Dragon, “as the world of men ceased believing in magic and wonder, we, the Guardians of the Archipelago, began to draw a veil over it, to prevent passage except by those who traveled in vessels that bore the mark of divinity.

“But that mark had less to do with power than it did with belief, and intention. This was a lesson we ourselves learned, many thousands of years ago. But we also learned that once fallen, we could also rise again if we so chose. And many of us did.

“There are many who will aid you, both in this world and in the Archipelago. There are objects of both power and influence, born of magics old and new. But above all, you must believe in your cause and have the righteousness of intention to see it through, and you shall always prevail.

“This is your secret, young king. Yours, and those who are the Caretakers of the lands that lie beyond,” the Indigo Dragon continued, indicating the companions with his great claw. “Guard it well and call on us in time of need. We will aid you, as long as you are worthy.”

“You will come, if called by one of royal worth?” said John.

“A misunderstanding,” the dragon said. “The authority does not now and never has lain with those of royal blood. Rather, it lies within those of noble worth. And having one does not necessarily guarantee the other.”

“These are the duties of your office, young king,” Samaranth said. “Will you accept, knowing all that you face? Knowing that the world is united against you, save for these few, and those such as ourselves?”

Arthur nodded with no hesitation. “I will.”

The great old dragon looked skyward, as did all the others. Where there was dark smoke obscuring the sky and light of the sun, a thousand pinpricks of light had appeared, breaking apart the darkness.

“Then as you have Summoned us,” Samaranth concluded, “the dragons of the Archipelago shall serve.”

In minutes the sky was filled with a multitude of dragons, all flying toward Camelot. The dragons in the great stone circle indicated to the companions that they should climb onto them to travel more quickly, and in moments they too were airborne.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Exiled

With the aid of the dragons, it was not long before order, or at least a more manageable chaos, was established in Camelot. The fires were quenched and the armies routed. And backed by the might of the great winged beasts, Taliesin was able to reassert his authority as war leader over many of the tribes. Not all of them. But enough. And as the sun began to set, it was evident to all the companions that it would be setting on Arthur’s Britain, and not on Mordred’s Albion.

At the stone table, the dozen dragons who had appeared at Stonehenge converged again with the companions. The Caretakers, Hugo, and Rose had stayed well away from the battles. This was not their war. And Arthur had gone to the front of the conflict, to show to the soldiers that Taliesin was indeed now taking orders from, and obeying, the true king.

Merlin, for the most part, sat at the back of the hill, neither moving nor speaking.

“Have you any further need of us, Arthur?” asked Samaranth. It was the first time any of them had addressed him by the title, and for the first time in thirty years, it felt earned.

“I believe we have it well in hand,” said Arthur, “or at least, well enough for all practical purposes. But there is one question I do have.” He cast a glance back at Merlin.

“His betrayal of those he trusted in the Archipelago caused him to be exiled here,” said the dragon. “It is you who was betrayed here in the Summer Country, and it is you alone who shall decide his fate.”

Arthur bowed his head. “Very well.”

“Others have been summoned,” the Indigo Dragon said. “Your education in the ways of the Archipelago and its peoples is sorely lacking. This must be remedied as soon as can be managed.

“You will have three teachers. The first of them will be waiting for you at the water’s edge at sunset. The others will come in time,” said the dragon. “All else is now entirely in your hands. Choose wisely. Choose well.”

“I will do my best.”

The dragons all extended their wings and stroked the air, rising high into the dusk.

“Rule wisely and fare thee well,” the Indigo Dragon said again, “Arthur Pendragon, King of the Silver Throne.”

The companions gathered together their few belongings and followed Arthur and Merlin to the water, where the river began opening itself up to the sea.

Taliesin remained behind so that a semblance of order might be maintained at the castle. Hugo and Rose took responsibility for the damaged Archimedes. Arthur agreed that the bird would need repairing, and also that he might be a good and eminently appropriate teacher for Rose.

Jack carried the Little Whatsit and the Serendipity Box, and John, acting as Arthur’s squire, carried the scabbard and broken sword Caliburn.

Arthur rode to the rear in silence, with Merlin close at his side. There was little that could be said between them, or perhaps little they felt that they were capable of saying.

At the water, they left the horses near the tree line and walked down to the sand on foot. There, standing starkly against the rays of the setting sun, was a sight that reassured John and Jack even more so than the dragons themselves had.

It was the ship, the
Red Dragon
. And at the helm stood Ordo Maas.

John started to wave at the old shipbuilder before Jack reminded him that Ordo Maas would not know them any more than Samaranth had. So it was particularly surprising when the old man, still carrying his long staff with the eternal flame, disembarked from the ship and came straight toward them.

“Which of you is John?” he asked pleasantly.

“That would be me,” said John.

“Here,” said Ordo Maas as he handed something to the Caretaker. “I was told you misplaced something very like this a long time past, and a friend didn’t want you to go too much longer without.”

It was a silver watch with a matching chain and fob, and on the back was a red engraving of Samaranth.

“Is it a time machine?” Jack asked. “Will it let us travel through time?”

“I believe it will,” Ordo Maas replied. “I’ve found for every minute I watch it, I move a full minute farther into the future.”

The shipbuilder turned to Arthur. “I am to be your first teacher, High King. And tonight we go for the first of your many lessons.”

“I understand,” Arthur said. “May I attend to some business first?”

Ordo Maas bowed. “As you wish.”

Arthur took the broken pieces of Caliburn from John and walked to the water’s edge. “I drew this sword,” he murmured, “and thought I had become a king. Then it broke, and only by going without it at my side, and in my hand, did I truly prove myself to be a king.

“I should like to give it over to the safekeeping of another, until such time as I shall need it again, or until another more worthy than I chooses to seek it out.”

“Who is he talking to?” John whispered.

“I have no idea,” Jack whispered back. “This is new ground for me, too.”

The water near the banks of the river, just past the rushes, began to roil, and a figure rose, spectral-like, out of the water.

She was beautiful in a stern fashion; her eyes were cold for all but Arthur, and she spoke to him alone.

“Will you take it, Mother?”

Nimue reached out and took the shards of Caliburn from her son, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before sliding swiftly and silently back into the depths.

John noticed that during the entire encounter, Merlin had kept his back to the woman and stayed far from the water’s edge.

“I have one more matter to attend to,” said Arthur. “Merlin. Come to me.”

The would-be king approached the younger man and dropped to one knee, but to everyone’s surprise, Arthur pulled him to his feet. “You do not kneel to me,” he said blithely. “Never do you kneel to me.” And then, even more surprisingly, he pulled Merlin in for a tight hug, which Merlin reluctantly returned.

“You understand what I must do?” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded.

“I know you still love your maps,” said the High King. “Do you still carry the tools to make them?”

Merlin nodded again. “I have a quill, and ink, and a bundle of parchments,” he said, “but I have not used them in almost a century.”

“You’ll have time to do it again, I think,” said Arthur. He rubbed his cheek where he’d been gashed earlier, then touched a blooded finger to Merlin’s forehead and began to speak:

Myrddyn, son of Odysseus

By right and rule

For need of might

I thus bind thee

I thus bind thee

By blood bound

By honor given

I thus bind thee

I thus bind thee

For strength and speed and heaven’s power

I call on thee in this dark hour

I thus bind thee

I thus bind thee.

“You are thus Bound, Myrddyn,” pronounced Arthur, “by the Old Magic, and by blood. And thusly Bound, I command thee to seek out Solitude and to remain there, until released by blood, or by my command.”

Merlin looked at him with less sadness than resignation and nodded. “As you command, Arthur.”

Arthur took off his torn and bloody cloak and handed it to Merlin. And then, almost as an afterthought, he handed him the scabbard of Caliburn. “Here,” he said. “Perhaps one day you will find a use for this. Or choose to use it in the way it was meant to be used, when you are ready.”

Merlin stepped into the water and stopped. “How am I to … ?” he began.

“My king,” said Ordo Maas. “If you’ll permit me?”

Arthur nodded, and Ordo Maas raised his staff. A moment later, sailing smoothly along the river, the
Scarlet Dragon
appeared.

“Our boat?” Jack exclaimed. “My boat?”

“Chin up, Jack,” said John. “It’s not as if we planned to use her again.”

Ordo Maas stepped into the water and stroked the
Scarlet Dragon
’s head as he whispered to it. He reared back as if listening, then smiled and patted the boat on the head.

“She will take him,” Ordo Maas said to Arthur, “to Solitude. You will learn of it yourself from a teacher other than myself, but for now, there is a place he can go where he can think and dedicate himself to his work.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur. He gestured at the boat, and Merlin stepped aboard with his few meager belongings. Merlin stood, facing away from the others, and spoke.

“Why?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t you allow him to kill me, Arthur?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “You betrayed your brother,” he said evenly, “and my mother. And as a child, you even betrayed me, staying only long enough to give me a name. And when I grew older, all that you had feared in me are those things that came from you.

“You have been afraid your whole life. And I cannot bring myself to kill—or allow to be killed—someone who had made the mistakes you’ve made, just because you are afraid.”

The
Scarlet Dragon
took that as a tacit approval to leave, and she pulled away from the shore.

“Thank you, Thorn,” Merlin said without turning around.

“You’re welcome,” Arthur answered. “Farewell … Father.”

The companions all watched from the shore until the
Scarlet Dragon
vanished from sight.

It took only a short while to arrive at, and cross, the Frontier.
So simple a thing
, Merlin thought to himself.
So simple, when done the right way. It was all I wanted for so long, and now, to have it given to me so easily …

But no—the thoughts themselves caused the blood on his forehead to burn.

He had been marked.

He had been Bound.

And he had returned to the Archipelago.

The
Scarlet Dragon
sailed for days, perhaps longer, before finally approaching their destination.

In the distance, shrouded by mist, the passenger of the small boat could make out the island, and on it a tower that had no end.

And suddenly, with a mixture of shame and surprise, he realized where he was going.

In a short while he would be there, and he would climb the stairs until he found what he had been commanded to seek. Somewhere, there in the Keep of Time, he would at last find Solitude.

Arthur said his farewells to the companions, then stepped onto the
Red Dragon
with Ordo Maas, and the second Dragonship of the evening pulled away from the shores and set course for the Archipelago. The companions watched as the ship sailed away, and then made their way back to the stone passageway.

“One final matter remains,” said Hugo. “What is to become of young Rose?”

“We’re taking Rose with us,” John and Jack said together. It seemed that all three of them had come to the same conclusion.

“Blood for blood, and a life for a life,” Rose said, nodding her head in agreement. “Your companion stayed on Avallo, so it seems right that I return with you.”

“And if no one has any objections,” Hugo added, “I’d like to take Archimedes back as well. Chaz asked that we care for the bird, and Arthur has enough advisers, now.”

“Good enough and done, then,” said John, looking at the rising moon. “We’re running close. We’ll have to ride hard to make it.”

With horses and best wishes given to them by Taliesin, the companions arrived at Grandfather Oak just as the projection was starting to waver.

“The badgers will be frantic,” said John.

“Badgers?” asked Rose.

“You’re going to love them,” said Hugo. “Ready?”

Rose nodded, and together the foursome stepped through the projection and into the future.

Once more they were back in the projection room on Sanctuary. There was a brief flurry of greetings and explanations to satisfy the badgers’ questions—mostly about why they had brought back a sick bird in a bag, and why Chaz seemed to have been turned into a girl.

“I’m not Chaz, I’m Rose,” she said. “Pleased to meet you both.”

“First things first,” said Jack. “We need to know if it worked this time.”

From inside the room, nothing seemed different at all.

“Well,” John said. “I guess we’ll just have to go outside and take a look again, and see if this time it did the trick.”

“John!” Jack cried out. “Look! In the corner! The burlap bag is gone! We have changed things, after all!”

“Did you move the bag?” John asked the badgers. “Set it aside, perhaps? Or did Reynard move it?”

Uncas shook his head.

“No, we never touched it,” answered Fred. “I never realized it was gone until you mentioned it just now.”

“Where’s Reynard?” Jack said, looking around the room. “We need to have him check outside, to see if the giants are still lurking about.”

“He went out a while ago,” said Fred, heading for the door. “I’ll go ask after him.”

The little badger opened the door and stepped outside—and disappeared with a yelp.

The companions ran over to the door, which opened not into the hallway they expected to see but into an endless black void. Fred had fallen when he stepped over the threshold, and he was desperately hanging on to the door frame by a single paw.

Jack reached down and grabbed him up, holding him tightly. “Don’t worry, little badger,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Uncas said gratefully. “I couldn’t bear t’ lose my boy!”