The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [108]
“Hello, Archimedes,” he said. “You’re looking well.”
“You’re not, Madoc,” Archie replied, lighting onto Quixote’s shoulder. “You look like you’ve been hit by a train.”
“Actually, I was dropped over a waterfall,” said Madoc, “but the net result is probably the same.”
“How did you bypass the gates, then?” asked the professor. “And once below, why didn’t you try to return to the Archipelago?”
“I was compelled,” Madoc said, “and I remain so. I briefly thought of trying to repair that ship, the Aurora, but I was unable to even pause to appraise the vessel’s damage. I may have been swimming, or walking, or otherwise moving perpendicular to the waterfall, but make no mistake—I was always falling, and am falling still.”
“Until you reached this wall,” said the professor.
“Yes,” said Madoc. “Until I came here. As far as I can determine, it is endless. I spent years doing nothing but walking, first in one direction, then the other. After a while, I began to hallucinate. I dreamed that as I slept, all my progress was undone, and I had been returned to the place I started. Even if that had been true, there was no way to know for certain.
“It’s impossible to climb—believe me, I’ve tried. I wasted a year on that. Then I considered trying to dig my way through, but other than this,” he said, holding up his hook, “I had nothing that was capable of even scratching it. I built a forge and created several tools, using metals I’ve scavenged from the beach, but they’ve all proven too soft for the stone as well. That was almost two years ago. I’ve spent all of my time since planning my revenge.”
The professor started, and Madoc laughed.
“I’m only joking,” he said to the old Caretaker. “Really, though—what were you expecting me to say? That I’ve had time to reconsider my choices, and I’ve turned over a new leaf?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a lie,” said Archimedes.
Madoc rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s a joke, you stupid bird,” he said, more exasperated than irritated. “I used to be the villain of the story, or hadn’t you heard?”
“Actually, you still are, after a fashion,” said Sigurdsson. “Or at least, your Shadow is.”
“Now you have my attention,” Madoc said, sitting cross-legged in the sand. “Tell me.”
The companions sat on the sand across from Madoc, and Professor Sigurdsson told him everything that had happened in the quarter century since the conflict on Terminus.
Several times the professor nearly paused in his narrative, concerned that he might be sharing something that would better remain a secret—but each time he reminded himself that without Madoc’s help, they would not be able to defeat the Shadow King. And while they were still a long way from being friends, or even friendly enemies, Madoc was at least listening to what they had come to say.
“We need your help, Madoc,” the professor said. “Show him, Rose.”
She walked back to the Scarlet Dragon and retrieved a bundle, which she placed on the sand in front of Madoc. Slowly, carefully, she folded back the oilcloth to reveal the shattered remains of the sword Caliburn.
“We need you to repair the sword, Father,” Rose said simply. “Can you do it? Please?”
Madoc stared at the sword for a long moment, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His face was inscrutable, and Quixote and Sigurdsson exchanged worried glances. What did this mean, that he didn’t react at all?
Suddenly Madoc fell to his knees, dropped his head into his hands, and began to shake violently.
Quixote was about to step forward, and Rose was reaching out a hand to comfort him, when they realized together that Madoc was not sobbing.
He was laughing.
He laughed so hard that he could not speak, could not stand. Tears ran down his face as he erupted in a paroxysm of laughter, choking, sobbing, guffawing, all at once.
“If you only realized, child,” he choked between spasms. “If you only understood how important this object was to me, once . . .”
“We do understand, Madoc,” Sigurdsson began.
“You understand nothing!” shouted Madoc,