The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [84]
“After Jason’s betrayal of Medea, the Argonauts scattered to the corners of the Earth. Heracles was already gone, as was Theseus. Argos, the builder of the ship, was dead. And the others went on to lead their lives free of Jason’s corrupted legacy. But of them all, only Orpheus maintained a relationship with Medea. He was a kind of uncle to her sons, and secretly helped her when she told him of her plan to hide them away from their father.
“What he didn’t realize was that she intended to abandon them here. She never left them wholly ungoverned—she built a home for herself on a nearby island—but she seldom visited them, for fear that Jason might discover they still lived.”
“What a wench,” said Charles.
“More like a witch,” said John.
“Well spoken, John,” said Bert.
“She was a witch,” Daedalus agreed, “in action as well as name. She enchanted the dragons that had guarded the Golden Fleece, and defeated the bronze giant Talos when he attacked the Argo. If she had not been a witch, the Argonauts would have perished many times over. She knew this, and it was at the root of her hatred for Jason’s betrayal.”
“Those poor boys,” said Aven, who had been quietly absorbing all that was said. “To revenge herself against their father, she condemned them to a fate worse than death. A lifetime of loneliness.”
“That’s what Orpheus thought too,” said Daedalus. “He pleaded with Medea to take them elsewhere, but she would not be swayed, and she was far too powerful for him to go against her will. And so, Orpheus chose a different route. He began seeking out playmates for the boys who could be brought here, to the Underneath.”
It slowly dawned on John where the inventor was going with his story. “He used the panpipes, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Daedalus. “He went out into the world—to your world—and lured away children to become the playmates of Jason’s sons. To become Lost Boys themselves. This is the origin of the legends of children being lured from their beds in the middle of the night by soft strains of music that no adult seemed to hear. It wasn’t that they couldn’t hear it—but it was not meant for them. And so the children simply disappeared, and no one knew to where.”
“Orpheus concealed himself well,” Bert huffed. “I know a great deal about the myths and legends of the world, and I’ve never before heard his name connected with the disappearing children.”
“Not as such,” said Daedalus. “But that was not the name by which the children knew him either. They had their own name for him, and fashioned their own mythology. And in the whispers under the covers, and in the dark corners of the room, the children knew that if you heard music in the night, it meant that the King of Crickets was coming for you.”
Bert paled, then sat heavily on the grass. “The King of Crickets,” he said, his voice trembling. “He…he’s a Pan?”
“Originally he was Orpheus,” Daedalus explained, “but after him, others assumed the office of the Pan, and the mythology about the King of Crickets followed them, too.
“Ulysses had two sons with the enchantress Circe, and one of them became the Pan for a time before leaving the Underneath. A few poets from your world, and at least one painter, have held the office. And there came a time when the Lost Boys took it on themselves to find their own playmates, and thereafter the Pan was not an adult, but a child.”
“And because of Echo’s Well, he never needed to age,” Charles concluded. “Ideal.”
“So children were enchanted and brought against their will?” said John. “I like that not at all.”
“Peter didn’t believe in it,” said Aven. “He believed that children should choose to come here if they wished, and not be forced to become Lost. Orpheus trained him to use the pipes, as he had trained Peter’s predecessor, Puck, but Peter never used the pipes as the others had. He would find children and whisper to them in the night—and if they so chose, he would bring them here. But never against their will.
“Having