The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [106]
“Being called a wench I can live with,” she said, “but no one calls me ‘helpless.’”
In a flash, Burton was back up and sparring with her, while Charles and Bert were busy with their own opponents. Only John tried to reach the two young men who had arrived in the Red Dragon. But he was not fast enough.
The Croatoans fell on them, swords ripping and tearing at their flesh with the spears and knives. William made a valiant effort to defend himself and was obviously skilled with weaponry, but he could do little more than fend off the attackers until he and Hugh could stagger back onto the ship.
In seconds the living Dragonship had pulled away from the shore and was gaining speed back toward the rift in Time.
“No!” John shouted. “Don’t let them go! Charles, we have to stop that ship!”
But it was already too late. The Red Dragon—the Argo—was already far away from the shore, carrying the battered bodies of William and Hugh with it.
The air around the islands began to tremble, and again the sound of thunder split the air. And suddenly the ship was gone. It had vanished back into Time.
John dropped to his knees and pounded the sand with his fists. “We could have stopped it,” he exclaimed. “We could have stopped it all. But now it’s too late.”
Even the Croatoans had paused in their attacks on the companions, realizing that something was amiss.
“What are you talking about?” said Charles, still brandishing a spear at one of the Indians. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you see?” John said. “William and Hugh were unharmed before Burton fought with them. He’s the one who set this in motion—and now they’ve disappeared back into the ripples of Time itself, where they are wrecking on the shoreline where Bacon found them seven hundred years ago!”
John stood and marched to Burton, grabbing him roughly by his jacket. “If only you had listened!” John shouted. “If only you had trusted us, this would all be over. And now it’s all gone wrong! You fool! You arrogant fool!”
“Look!” Bert shouted, pointing over the water. “It’s coming back!”
The thunder was constant now as Time shuddered, and once more the Red Dragon sailed into view. But this time it wasn’t alone. Behind it, with the sole exception of the Indigo Dragon, all the other Dragonships—White, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Violet—were falling into a well-ordered formation.
On the foredeck of the Red Dragon stood the two young men they had seen on the beach just minutes before, but they had changed.
These were not boys, but men, who were battle-hardened and cold. And they were not entirely human, not any longer. The exposed metal on their arms, torsos, and faces showed that their bodies were at least partially mechanical. And even at that distance, the companions could hear the ticking emanating from their chests.
These were the Clockworks Laura Glue had warned them about—the abductors of the Lost Boys.
And behind them, filling the decks of the seven Dragonships, were hundreds and hundreds of children. Some were dressed in animal skins, some in armor. But all of them were fitted for battle.
The companions and the Croatoans stood mute as the armada came to rest in the shallows of the island. Then the leader of the army climbed over the Red Dragon’s railing and jumped to the sand. He was a dark-skinned, blue-eyed young man, and on his head and shoulders was his mantle of command—the unmistakable head, horns, and pelt that comprised the Golden Fleece.
“Dear God,” Aven whispered, her eyes locked on the golden warrior at the forefront of the army now leaving the ships. “That’s Stephen.
“That’s my son.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Thimble
With only a gesture from their leader, the Children’s Army streamed over the sides of the ships and through the water. In minutes all of the adults, Caretakers and Croatoans alike, were surrounded. A group of the children went to the nearby fishing cottages and captured the Indians there as well, and also the children who had been