The Indigo King - James A. Owen [110]
“So what happens when the slide burns out?” Hugo asked with a gulp. “Do we vanish into the Nothing too?”
“I don’t plan to be here to find out,” John said, grabbing his pack. “Take everything we can fit into our bags,” he instructed. “We have two choices. We can go back through to Camelot and take our chances, or we can use the last slide Verne left for us and have faith that we’re being looked after, even now.”
“Do you have that much faith, John?” asked Jack.
John looked at the silver and red dragon watch given to him by Ordo Maas, then at Rose, who had come with them into an unknown future. “Yes,” he answered. “I do.”
With no more discussion, the companions gathered their few belongings together and prepared for a final trip in time.
“Of course you’ll be coming with us,” Jack said to Uncas. “We’re all going together, wherever and whenever it is.”
Verifying that everyone in their small party was ready to go, John gave the signal, and Uncas switched the slide from the sixth-century picture of Camelot, which was already charring at the edges, to the last slide.
It was not what they’d expected.
In front of them, on the wall, a startled monk dropped the bundle of wood he was carrying and crossed himself. That was not what they’d hoped, that the portal was opening in the presence of someone, but not unexpected. But they were unprepared for the effect the last slide had on the projection room itself.
It trembled and shook and began to come apart at the seams and fall away into Nothing.
John and Hugo pushed Rose through the portal, then began to step through themselves. “Hurry, Uncas!” John shouted over the howling winds that were sucking at the walls of the room. “Hurry!”
The door shuddered, then ripped away from the wall, spinning off into the dark. The wall itself followed seconds later. Uncas and Fred rushed forward and jumped through, rolling in the brush on the other side.
Jack tossed the bags and packs through the portal as the other side wall ripped away, and the chairs began flying around the room, then up through the shattering ceiling.
Hugo crossed over, and then Jack. John took one last look into the room and stepped away just as the floor began to disintegrate.
Standing safely amidst the shrubbery and trees that had been visible through the slide, the companions watched in chilling fascination as the rest of the room fell away into Nothing, finally taking the projector with it, and in another instant the projection blurred, then blinked out.
The room, and the Lanterna Magica, were gone.
They found themselves standing in the company of a slightly frightened and extremely bewildered monk.
“Be ye angels, or be ye demons?” he asked in clear Old English.
“We be … I mean, we are men,” said John.
“And badgers,” added Uncas.
“And you?” the monk asked Rose.
“I’m Rose,” she answered simply and, to the companions’ surprise, in the monk’s own language.
“Of course you are,” the monk replied. “Are you seeking sanctuary?”
“We’ve actually just come from there,” said Hugo, “but if you’ve some handy, we wouldn’t decline.”
The monk looked at him and shook his head. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I am happy to help. You are not quite what I expected, but if you carry the sign …”
The companions looked at one another with puzzled expressions. The sign? What was he talking about?
Then, on impulse, John reached into his pocket and withdrew the watch that bore the image of the red dragon, Samaranth.
The monk’s expression changed from one of cautious surprise to one of relief. “You do bear the sign. That means you are the … how did he call you? The Caretakers?”
It was the companions’ turn to be surprised. “We are,” John said, nodding.
“I’m Geoffrey of Monmouth,” the monk replied. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Restoration
Geoffrey led the companions up the claustrophobic stairway and into his study. “The message said that I was to wait for three scholars, called Caretakers, who carried the sign of the dragon, and that when you arrived, I was to use the, uh, flower to contact