The Shadow Dragons (26 page)

“We don’t,” said Jack, looking quickly around the island. “There!” He pointed behind them to one of the cliffs. “They can’t hurt us, and we won’t have to hurt them if we reduce the size of the target.”

The other allies on the ground quickly realized what Jack was referring to, and under the cover of the airships, they swiftly retreated to a narrow isthmus between the cliffs. As Jack had hoped, the masses of children followed.

Once on the other side, the allies would only have to deal with a narrow trickling of the children, rather than all at once.

“How did you learn to do that?” an astonished Nemo asked.

Jack grinned. “You taught me how to do that,” he said. “About a quarter century ago.”

“We’ll still have to fight them,” said Charys. “It’s unavoidable.”

“Not completely,” said Jack. “Artus! It’s time for your secret weapon!”

Artus nodded and grinned, then he signaled to the Elves. They lowered the
Blue Dragon’s
enormous bulk and opened the hold.

The Tin Man jumped out with surprising agility, and without any instruction, he rushed forward to the narrow pass. Between his bulk, and the gentle sweeps of his ax, he managed to effectively block the advance of the children.

Many stopped, but those who pressed forward received only bruises, and the worst injuries were broken bones.

“That’s incredible!” Nemo declared. “You’re winning the battle without having to fight!”

“Not winning,” said Jack. “Delaying. That may be the best we can do.”

“That is the least you can do,” said a chilling voice beside them. Jack and the others spun around in time to see Kipling and the Shadow King step out of a Trump portal and onto the hilltop. Kipling held a sword, and the Shadow King carried the Spear of Destiny.

“Get into the airship,” Artus said to Nemo and Jack as he stepped forward and drew his sword. “Protect Aven.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Jack began.

“I know that!” said Artus. “But we have to hold on! I believe! Do you?”

“Yes,” said Jack, as he eyed Kipling. “I believe.” But he didn’t climb into the ship, and neither did Nemo or Stephen.

“Stay clear of his reach,” Jack warned. “He has the spear, and we don’t have anything that can defeat it. Not yet. All we can do is try to hold him off,” he finished grimly, with a silent prayer.

“Come, let us reason together,” said Artus.

“No reasoning, no discussion,” said the Shadow King. He glanced up at the Dragon shadows circling overhead and smirked. “You may have delayed my plans for the Summer Country, but that is all you have done—delay. There is nothing to discuss but your defeat. And you have nothing that can overpower my spear.”

“I don’t have to defeat you myself,” said Artus. “I just have to hold you back long enough for Rose to get here, to do what she’s destined to do.”

“I’ve read your Prophecy,” the Shadow King hissed, “and it means nothing to me.”

“It means something to
him,
” said Kipling, “and you shouldn’t underestimate that.”

“Kill him,” the Shadow King said. “Kill him now.”

“You know,” Kipling remarked, “I really don’t think I’m going to be able to do that.”

The Shadow King looked at him in confused fury. “What about that order didn’t you understand?” he shouted. “Kill him!”

“What about my refusal didn’t you understand?” said Kipling. “I’m not a violent man, and I detest war.” He dropped the sword to the grass. “I quit.”

“You forget what I promised you, Caretaker,” the Shadow King said as he touched a contact on his chest and a circlet of mist began to swirl behind him. “You forget what I can do, whom I can return to you.”

Kipling paused, and started to look back. In the swirl of mist, a face began to appear—a young man, a soldier.

Kipling steeled himself and bit his lip. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ve just managed to keep the things that are truly right ahead of the things that I want for myself.”

“Your son, Kipling—”

“Is dead.”

With a snarl, the Shadow King released the contact, and the young soldier vanished.

Kipling walked around the reach of the Shadow King and stood behind Jack. “Greetings, Caretaker.”

“I don’t understand,” Jack hissed, “but I won’t argue with your choice.”

“I see,” said the Shadow King. “There are more traitors than I knew, here in the Nameless Isles.”

“Not traitors,” Artus said, turning to smile at Kipling, “just friends. And that’s how I know we’re going to win.”

“You won’t,” the Shadow King replied. With a single motion, he thrust the Spear of Destiny through Artus’s heart before anyone could cry out a warning. “I’m not going to take your shadow, boy,” he rasped. “I’m just going to end your life.”

“Ah, me,” Artus said, looking down at the spear sticking out of his chest. “Aven, I—”

The King of the Silver Throne dropped to his knees, then fell over on his side, dead.

When Defoe stepped out of the wardrobe secreted away in the uppermost room at Tamerlane House, a contingent of Caretakers was there to greet him.

“Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do,” he said, “to borrow a phrase. How in Hades did you find me out?”

“Traitors are themselves easily betrayed,” Poe said softly. “Friends may quarrel, and the bond may remain unbroken. But a traitor can have no friends who will not eventually side against him.”

“I can see that,” said Defoe. “You welcomed Burton into your midst easily enough.”

“Don’t take my name in vain, Daniel,” Burton said as he strode into the room. “I knew there were more moles about, but I thought you’d at least have been brave enough to be up-front about it.”

“Says the original traitor,” Defoe spat. “Physician, heal thyself.”

“Oh, I’m feeling just fine,” said Burton. “I finally realized that there was a price too high to pay to achieve my goals. It serves no one and nothing to seek after truth as an ally of evil.”

“You got cold feet, you mean.”

“I came to my senses,” said Burton, “and you’ve let the Shadow King’s hunger for power color your judgment.”

“Chain it,” Poe ordered, pointing at the wardrobe. “I’m guessing wherever the other one is, we’ll find Houdini and Conan Doyle.”

Defoe just glared at him.

“That’s answer enough,” said Poe. “We’ll strand them, and retrieve them when this is finished.”

“It’ll be finished soon enough,” snarled Defoe. “I agree,” said Poe. “It will.”

“I’ll take responsibility for the Detective and the Magician,” said Burton. “They’re my apprentices, not the Shadow King’s. They’ll be penitent enough, I think.”

“You didn’t bring them with you,” said John. “Why?”

Burton grinned. “Self-preservation first. I
am
a barbarian, after all.”

Suddenly Defoe ripped a mirror from the wall and smashed it against Archimedes, who’d been perched atop the wardrobe. The owl screetched and flapped his wings, scattering silvered glass all over the Caretakers. John shouted to Bert, and together they calmed down the bird, who was ruffled but unharmed—but the distraction had served its purpose. Defoe had disappeared down one of the endless hallways.

“Never mind,” said Poe. “We’ve cut off his means of escape. We’ll find him later.”

“If Archimedes is here,” said Bert, “does that mean Stellan and the others are too?”

“Not Stellan,” said Poe, looking at his watch. “It’s been too long.”

“We must mourn later,” Bert said, grabbing John’s shoulders. “We have to find Rose!”

“I agree. I’ve had enough of debate,” said John. “We’re going out to join the battle.”

The Tin Man, staunch as he was, was being overrun.

The masses of children were finally proving too much, so others of the allies, still under the instruction to delay and not harm, tried to aid his efforts.

The Valkyries were the most effective of the allies’ forces, because they were more mobile and flexible than any of the other groups. But they were also the most vulnerable, because they couldn’t wear armor and still fly—and any blow that could knock them out meant a fall to the death, unless one of their companions caught them.

The warrior children started hurling stones with slings when they realized their closest enemies were airborne. Sadie Pepperpot had taken a terrible blow to her shoulder, and her left arm was hanging nearly useless at her side. Several others were also injured.

The Tin Man started to pull back, and the others realized that combat with the children might be inevitable.

Stephen cried out when the Shadow King had speared Artus, and he rushed forward, but Jack held him back.

“Look!” Jack cried out. “There! Down the hill!”

The companions, keeping one eye on the Shadow King, edged away from him and risked a glance to where Jack was pointing.

It was Ransom, Quixote, and Rose. And she was holding Caliburn. The sword was whole again.

On the opposite side of the beach, John and Bert had landed and were coming forward at the same time.

Across the bottom of the cliffs, Charles was leading Charys, Falladay Finn, and Eledir to where the fallen king lay in the grass. And Aven leaped down from her airship to stand next to her son.

“Now we’re going to finish this,” Aven said, drawing her sword. “You can’t take all of us, demon.”

“I don’t need to,” said the Shadow King, indicating the children in the pass. “They can.”

His words were confident, but the companions noticed that he had not taken his eyes off Rose—and the sword.

“We’re going to get him,” Stephen called up to Laura Glue, reaching for her. “Can you give us a little more time?”

“We’ll keep them off you as long as we can,” gasped Laura Glue, swooping down to take his hand.

“Thank you,” Stephen said. He gripped her hand tightly for a moment, as words unspoken passed between them in a long, lingering glance. Then she pulled free and rose into the air like a shot.

“Valkyries! To me!” she called out with a loud, trilling battle call. “Norah! Sadie! Abby Tornado!” The Valkyries, aided by the centaurs Charys had summoned, were holding the pass, if barely.

Rose and Quixote reached the top of the hill.

“I don’t believe it!” said Charles. “You did it!”

“It’s a fraud,” the Shadow King hissed. “This is your last chance to surrender.”

“No,” said John, as he and Bert topped the hill, “it’s
yours”

Rose looked at Artus’s fallen body and winced. Then she looked up at Stephen and offered him the sword.

“You brought it back,” Stephen replied. “It’s yours to wield, just as the Prophecy said.”

“There is no Prophecy!” the Shadow King said as he took another step back. “I don’t believe!”

Rose drew the blade across the palm of her hand, leaving Caliburn’s edge slick with her blood.

The winds of the Time Storm suddenly increased and began to howl around the island, as high above, the shadows of the Dragons circled, waiting.

“What are you doing?” the Shadow King whispered, his voice full of menace. “What do you think you are doing, girl?”

“I’m fulfilling my destiny,” she said. Her voice was barely audible over the howling winds. “I’m going to heal my family. I’m going to heal my father.”

“I
am
your father!” the Shadow King spat. “Give me the sword! Give me Caliburn! It is mine! It always was!”

“You are
not
my father,” Rose said calmly.” You are the darkness in his soul, which he chose to set aside. You are the strength, which takes no responsibility, and the will, which has no desire but to consume. You are his spirit, and when you have joined with him once more, it will be his choice what kind of man he is. Now, and forever.”

She leaped forward and pressed the tip of the sword against the Shadow King’s armor—right at the point where it curved into shadow.

The Shadow King froze in place. Caliburn had trapped him in the shell of the Red King.

“What are you doing, girl?” he screamed. “Stop! Stop this! Release me! I command you!”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do,” said Rose. “I’m going to release you, from everything.” With both hands, she drew the sword across his chest, making a lopsided figure eight. The point of the sword never left his armor, and where it passed, it left a mark of blood.

“I Bind you, Shadow,” she said softly, not caring if he or anyone else could hear. “With the mark I have chosen for myself, I Bind you.”

Then, as the Shadow King continued to scream, she spoke the words:

Shadow of my father

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

By ancient claim in this dark hour

I thus bind thee

I thus bind thee

Rose stepped back and lowered the black sword to her side. On the Shadow King’s armor, the infinity symbol she had drawn glowed briefly with a blue fire, then faded.

“Let me see who’s really in charge,” said Rose. “Show yourself, King of the Shadows.”

A tearing sound ripped across the hilltop as a thick, dark form pushed its way out of the Red King’s body. It had no face, only roiling hatred that crackled in the air.

“That’s good enough,” she said, gripping the sword with both hands. “I just wanted you to see my face.”

Rose swung the sword through the middle of the dark form, and it shattered apart, screaming, at the touch of Caliburn.

“Now,” she said to Stephen, “avenge your father, as I’ve avenged mine.”

“Gladly,” Stephen said. He stepped forward as the Shadow King’s body howled in dismay.

“I’m sorry!” the frozen king cried. “I—I didn’t mean for all of this to happen!”

“Good or evil,” Stephen said, clenching his jaw, “that’s the first thing you’ve said that I really believe.”

He swung the ax and cleanly lopped off the Shadow King’s head.

A burst of sparks and flame shot out of the neck as the body dropped to its knees, then fell over onto its right side, unmoving. The head went spinning down the hill and bounced several times, before at last coming to rest against a petrified log.