The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [97]
Laura Glue looked up and sniffed. “So…so you’re not ascared after all?”
“Scared out of our wits,” Charles admitted, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t keep our wits about us. And it doesn’t mean we’re going to leave Jack to the mercy of those awful machines.”
“It doesn’t?” she exclaimed, eyes shining. She reached up and took each of their hands. “Are we going to rescue Jacks?”
“We are indeed,” stated Charles, with a furtive look at Bert and Aven. “How can we fail, with our good-luck girl Laura Glue guiding us?”
John examined the History to discover the next steps they needed to take, while the others scouted the beach. It was decided that building a fire would be too risky, since it might draw attention to them, and at the moment they had no idea where the army of golden giants was.
Laura Glue told them that the giants were not the same as the Clockworks her grandfather had warned her about, the ones they believed had taken the Lost Boys. This was both reassuring and troubling at once. It meant that there was an additional mystery to be solved, but also that there might be another adversary to be dealt with.
Bert calculated that a stone from the keep was falling about every hour, which meant that every three days or so another intersection crumbled, and another door fell too. So every three days, another entry point into the past became unfocused, uncontrolled, and loosed upon the world.
“Stay close,” Bert cautioned. “Jules and I have had no small experience with Time, and if there are any ‘soft places’ about, I don’t want any of us to step into them by accident.”
“Look for a horn,” John said suddenly. “Somewhere here on the shore should be a horn to summon a ferryman.”
In short order, Aven called out to them from an outcropping just to the north. There, on a tripod of ash, bound with a silver cord, was a conch shell.
“I think this is it,” said John. “Do any of you know how to use it?”
Without replying, Aven lifted the conch to her lips and sounded a long, clear note that echoed across the water.
In moments, as if from nowhere, a long, flat boat appeared, propelled by a ferryman using a tall black pole.
He was dressed in a black leather coat and wore his hair cropped short. His skin was pale and his hair so white it was devoid of color, but he seemed no older than John, and his face was expressionless. He wore round black glasses that hid his eyes, but as the boat approached he raised a hand in greeting.
Charles gulped. “Are…are you Charon?” he said hesitantly.
The man nodded once. “I was called as such, long ago. Charon, Methos, Morpheus…These were all my names, once upon a time. But now I am simply called Kilroy. Have you a coin for the passage?”
John looked at Aven in alarm. Talos had taken the bundles, and with them anything else Daedalus had included to aid in their passage between the islands.
“What kind of coin?” Charles asked suddenly.
“A silver talent is traditional,” replied Kilroy, “but any silver coin will do.”
Charles fumbled around in his pockets for a moment, pulling them all inside out until finally he found what he was looking for. “Aha!” he said triumphantly. “Will this do the trick?”
“An Irish punt?” John said in surprise.
“It’s my lucky coin,” said Charles.
“I’m not so sure it works,” John said wryly.
“That’s why I hadn’t mentioned it before,” Charles admitted, “but on the other hand, I’ve got it now, and that’s lucky enough, isn’t it?”
He handed the coin to the ferryman, who didn’t so much as glance at it before putting it inside the black coat. Kilroy moved back and motioned for them to step onto the boat.
The companions took their seats, and with no apparent effort, the ferryman pushed off with the pole and the boat slid smoothly into open water.
Jack woke in darkness.
Feeling his way around, he discovered he was in a small stone room, approximately ten feet wide and twelve feet long. The ceiling was high, and the walls had brackets for candles, but there was no other decoration in the room, which was obviously a cell