The Indigo King - James A. Owen [95]
“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