The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [103]
“And now you know one of the reasons that Bert could not be your guide,” said the professor. “The Queen of Entelechy would never have allowed him to pass.”
“Why not?” asked Rose.
“Because,” explained the professor, “when we came here before, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘You’re the largest woman I’ve ever seen in my life!’”
Both Johnson and Quixote groaned. “A terrible mistake,” said Quixote.
“Awful,” said Johnson.
“I don’t get it,” said Rose.
“You’re still very young,” Quixote told her, “but I will tell you what my grandfather wisely told me. Never, ever mention a woman’s size, or her age. Women are timelessly young and eternally beautiful.”
“Always?”
“Yes, always,” Quixote and Johnson said together.
“That’s part of the reason it took Bert eight hundred thousand years to find a wife,” said the professor. “No tact.”
The fifth gate was a trio of tall, spikelike rocks standing only yards apart from one another. The professor lit the tallow candles and instructed Archimedes to place the first one atop the center stone, the second on the stone to the right, and the third on the stone to the left.
“That’s it?” said Quixote.
“That’s it,” said the professor. “We may now pass.”
“What would have happened if we hadn’t placed the candles there?” asked Quixote.
The professor shivered and drew his coat closer. “I don’t even want to think about it,” he said. “I’ve been dead for a quarter century, and the idea still gives me nightmares.”
After the fifth island gate, they passed into what must have been night. The haze was replaced by complete darkness, and then, eventually, a night sky full of stars.
“Do you recognize any of them, Professor?” asked Rose. “I don’t see any of the constellations!”
“I don’t believe those are stars, per se,” said the professor in a hushed voice. “I believe those are the dragons themselves.”
It was a sobering, fantastic thought: that they were actually somewhere underneath thousands upon thousands of dragons— and so, the companions slept.
In a few hours, still under the night sky, they came to the sixth island.
Broad, with no hills or cliffs on the beaches, it was not a small island, but it had been completely overbuilt with temple after structure after edifice, until it was practically a city. And the city must have been deserted for countless years, because it was all but ruined.
The crumbling remains were more ancient than those they’d seen on Avalon, and even more ancient than the islands of the Underneath.
Standing among the ruins was a man, dressed in rags and clutching a book. He was staring up at the stars.
“Ah, me,” said the professor quietly. “It’s the last of the society pirates.”
They pulled the Scarlet Dragon onto the beach, and the professor took a few steps toward the man, who had not yet acknowledged their presence.
“Hello, Coleridge,” said the professor.
The man looked up at the mention of his name. He squinted at the boat on the beach, then at the passengers who were now standing in front of him.
“Sigurdsson?” he asked eventually. “Is that you? What are you doing here at the end of all that is?”
Rose wrinkled her brow at the question, but Quixote’s discreet touch on her arm signaled her not to speak. This man should be dealt with by the professor.
“This isn’t the end,” the professor said, his voice calm and soft. “This is just one more stopping place.”
“Dreams come true here, you know,” said Coleridge. “I’ve seen it happen. But no one told me . . .”
His voice trailed off, and he turned away again.
“No one told you what?” the professor asked.
“Nightmares come true here as well,” said Coleridge.
“Are you all right?” asked the professor.
“She took my arm,” Coleridge said simply, “but she let me go past. I had to come here. I had to see . . .”
“Come with us,” said the professor. “There’s no reason for you to stay. Do come. Please.”
The emaciated figure turned to look at him. “I cannot, for it may yet change. And there is nowhere else to go. There is nothing further. This was the last place in the world.