The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [105]
“However, the Caretaker had fears of his own, as well as reasons that compelled him to return to his world—and so he gave her a choice. He would leave the Archipelago and abandon his duties, and her as well. Or she could come be with him, grow old with him, raise a family with him—but at the price of never returning to the Archipelago.”
Aven was silent, but the tears streaming down her cheeks told her friends that what Burton said was true.
“I never knew,” Bert whispered. “I never realized that was the choice she had.”
“Ah, Aven…,” Charles said, his voice low.
“The old Caretaker, your predecessor, and the Pan have been enemies ever since,” said Burton. “Now—I’m losing my patience. Where are our children?”
John’s mind raced for some kind of an answer, whatever he could say that wouldn’t make the situation worse—but suddenly Burton was distracted by something more pressing. The other Croatoans’ shouts caused him to turn and gasp in surprise as he watched the Indigo Dragon lift away from the beach and rise swiftly into the air.
At the wheel, a smiling Jack waved, and in moments the airship was out of reach of the Croatoans’ spears and arrows. Without a backward glance, Jack piloted the ship over their heads, pointed it westward, and vanished.
Burton howled in fury and turned to John. “You’ll pay for this, Caretaker. I promise you that.”
He pulled his knife and was about to strike at John when suddenly the sky turned black and the island vibrated with thunder. Over the water, the air had begun to shimmer again. Something else was coming through one of the rifts in Time.
It was not an airplane this time. It was a ship. Large, of a familiar design, it was a graceful, majestic vessel, and it slid smoothly through the air and water until it solidified in the shallows just footsteps from the Croatoans and the companions.
Aven let out a shout, and Bert’s mouth dropped open even as his eyes welled up with tears.
It was the Argo.
The long-missing Red Dragon had appeared at last.
Burton’s eyes blazed with recognition. To him, the appearance of another Dragonship, here, now, only confirmed his suspicions—which meant the two men at the helm, as young as they appeared to be, were his enemies.
The men had the appearance of brothers and were dressed in a manner similar to the Lost Boys. They were speaking in loud voices tinged with Greek accents. They were Hugh the Iron and William the Pig. Jason’s sons. The original Lost Boys.
John’s eyes widened in realization, and he looked at Bert, who nodded frantically. He realized the same thing John had about the two young men who were waving a greeting and coming ashore, not realizing that the Croatoans were preparing to attack.
“Go back!” John yelled. “William! Hugh! Get back on the ship! You must get away!”
“What?” one of the young men called, waggling a finger in his ear. “I can’t hear a thing with this cursed beeswax Peter put in our ears, can you, Will?”
The other shrugged and tapped the side of his head, then, with the other hand outstretched in friendship, walked toward Hairy Billy.
Instead of taking the proffered hand, the Indian lifted his spear and impaled the boy on it.
“No!” Aven and John screamed together.
Hairy Billy merely smiled wickedly and drove the spear deeper into the bewildered boy. The boy called William cried out in horror and leaped to his brother’s defense, but the other Indians were already moving to the attack.
This new spectacle was distracting enough to the Croatoans that Aven caught one of them off guard, throwing him to the ground and snatching away his spear. Quickly she stabbed the Indians holding Charles and Bert, while John coldcocked the one who been behind him and caught Aven’s knife.
The Croatoans were now being pulled in two fronts, but they were still focused on the weaker