The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [77]
“And improved upon his designs,” Jack said, “if Laura Glue’s wings are any indication.”
“Thank you,” said Daedalus, smiling. “I’ve had time to get them just so.”
“How did you end up here in the Underneath?” asked John. “Or in the Archipelago at all, for that matter? We’re a long way from Troy.”
“A long way now,” replied Daedalus, stirring one of the cauldrons. “But not then.
“In those days, the world was more unified. It was easier to travel to all the lands that exist. Many of the places that might be considered mythological by your world’s modern standards actually exist—they just take longer to get to than they once did.”
Daedalus finished tending to his experiments and took a seat alongside the companions, who proceeded to relate to him all that had happened to them since Laura Glue’s arrival in Oxford. The inventor listened attentively, stopping them only briefly now and again to ask a question or clarify a point. And when they had finished, he steepled his fingers under his nose and leaned back heavily.
“I was not here when the children were taken,” he said slowly, “so I cannot speak to the exact circumstances of their abduction. When I returned, Peter was also gone, and those few dozen children who had not been taken filled in bits and pieces, but, as children are wont to do, they did so imprecisely. So I can only speculate.
“As to the message Peter sent, I believe it was meant to tell Jamie—yourselves—who it was who was taking the children.”
“You know?” exclaimed John.
“I can guess,” said Daedalus. “In your world, ‘The Crusade has begun’ might refer to any number of events. But here in the Archipelago, particularly in the older parts, such as the Drowned Lands or the Underneath, the word ‘Crusade’ has only ever referred to one great journey—the original voyage of Jason and the Argonauts.”
“How does that help us?” asked Jack. “Peter wasn’t referring to that same Crusade, was he?”
Daedalus shook his head. “Doubtful, especially after what you found in the Library of Alexandria. No, I think he was referring to something entirely new.”
The inventor thought for a minute more, then jumped from his chair and strode to one of the bookshelves set against the walls. He scanned the titles, then chose a large volume whose covers were of carved slate. The front was engraved with the Greek letter alpha.
Daedalus turned several of the pages, then looked up at the companions.
“Do any of you know the origin of the name ‘Lost Boys’?” he asked.
Bert frowned. “It—it’s never come up. I always assumed it was simply a term of convenience, used for all the children in Barrie’s stories, based on the orphans Peter had taken in.”
John shook his head. “It has to be far older than that. Chamenos Liber, remember? Lost Boys. Perhaps the name came from the islands?”
“No,” said Daedalus. “The islands that guard the Underneath were named because of who came here in the beginning, not the other way around.
“Jason was a great hero, in many ways the archetype for all who followed after. He had a remarkable charisma and a fierce intelligence, and he managed to draw together heroes with more power, authority, and experience than himself. He traversed the world on extraordinary quests and saw his legend raised to immortality within his own lifetime. And that was his downfall.
“He let it go to his head. He saw himself as invulnerable, invincible. There was nothing that Jason could not do, especially with the support of his Argonauts—the demigod Heracles, the musician Orpheus, even the great Theseus himself among them. And when Jason had achieved his greatest victory and captured the Golden Fleece of Colchis, he destroyed it all by betraying his own wife, Medea, without whom he would have failed.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “after which, according to legend, she slew his sons in revenge.”
“According to legend,” said Daedalus, tapping the book, “but not according