The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [114]
“There!” Rose exclaimed excitedly. “If we can make it to the island, we may be able to repair the ship!”
Quixote was doubtful that anything could salvage the Scarlet Dragon, which had been pushed well past its limits, but after all they had endured with the journey down to find Madoc, and the terrible sacrifice made by Professor Sigurdsson, he was not about to dampen the girl’s unflagging spirits.
“We’ll make it,” he said encouragingly. “Upon my word as a knight, we’ll make landfall, my dear, dear girl!”
The knight grabbed the tattered remnants of the balloon and wrapped a rope around the tears. “Ho, Archimedes!” he called out over the roar of the falls. “Take one of the starboard lines and give us a pull!”
Between the port propeller, which was functional but sputtering badly, and the strength of the clockwork owl, the ship skipped slowly across the surface of the water. When it dipped too low, the tremendous current yanked the boat downward, but Archie and Quixote resolved to hold their course. In a matter of minutes, the little craft settled safely onto the sandy beach that lined the southern shore of Terminus, and the balloon finally deflated completely.
Rose and Quixote staggered from the boat and collapsed among the sand and grass. Archie joined them, for once too drained to go circling about.
Rose propped herself up on one elbow. “We can’t rest here too long,” she told her companions. “We have to find a way to repair the Scarlet Dragon. Everything depends on our getting the sword to the king.”
“But how, my lady?” Quixote asked without raising his head. “There is nothing on this island but grass, and rocks, and a gravestone.”
“Not quite,” a voice said from over the low hill behind them. “There’s also a friend, who is very, very happy to see you here safe and sound.”
Rose and Quixote sat up in astonishment, and Archie let out a squawk of happiness. Just coming over the rise of the hill toward them was a man they had not expected, but were not surprised to see.
“‘Believing is seeing,’” said Ransom.
“‘Believe,’” answered Rose. “It’s wonderful to see you, Mr. Ransom.”
“As I told your uncle Jack, dear girl,” Ransom admonished, “call me Alvin.”
Ransom had with him a small store of food and water, and had even remembered to bring a wind-up mouse for Archie, so the four friends sat down and had an impromptu dinner, while Rose and Quixote took turns telling Ransom about the journey over the waterfall.
His face grew dark when they related what had befallen Professor Sigurdsson.
“He is one I would have liked to know better,” Ransom said after offering his condolences. “I have heard great things about him, especially tales of his younger days. He was renowned as an archaeologist and had many adventures even before he was recruited as a Caretaker.”
“He did as he told us he would,” Quixote said, “and he paid the price he knew must be paid. Now it is for us to make certain it was not a sacrifice made in vain.”
“How is it you’re here on Terminus, Mr.—Alvin?” asked Rose. “It is, after all, the last place in the entire Archipelago where anyone might go.”
“I found my way to the elusive Inn at the World’s End,” Ransom said as a broad smile spread across his face, “so I was able to sneak in a drink or two before coming here to wait for you. The passage through the Trump requires quite a leap of faith, and when I did get there, I found the place packed. Some sort of metaphysical funeral was going on outside. I asked the innkeeper, and all he would say was that a dream had died. Odd, but a nice tavern nevertheless.”
“You came here for us?” Rose exclaimed. “Why? How did you know?”
“There are friends and allies waiting for you all along the edge of the falls,” said Ransom, pointing to the water’s edge. “Every vessel that wasn’t commandeered into battle with the Shadow King. Boats, bottles, bathtubs—whatever would float. I’m not a fan of boats myself, so I elected to wait for you here—where they’d have brought you anyway.”
“But why?” Rose repeated.
“In case your quest succeeded,