The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [115]
“Oh!” said Rose. “We forgot to show you!” She bounded over to the Scarlet Dragon and pulled out the sword, which was still wrapped tightly in the oilcloth.
Reverently she unwrapped it and held it up to the light. The black sword was gleaming and unbroken.
Ransom whistled in appreciation. “Now that’s a sword. Let’s get you back to Tamerlane House. There’s no time to lose.”
“Back?” Quixote said, scanning the beach. “Did you bring one of the Dragonships?”
“Better,” said Ransom. He opened up his jacket and removed the Trumps. “Remember the ones I reserved in case of an emergency? Well, if the End of the World doesn’t qualify, I don’t know what does.”
At that moment several voices called out to them from the water, and they turned to see a flotilla of small boats and rafts converging on the beach. They were occupied by fauns, and a few badgers, and several old men and young boys from the various islands. All those who were not able to fight in a battle had come here to risk their lives anyway, to be of service to the one who could bring hope to the Archipelago. The hopeful and anxious looks on their faces said everything the companions needed to know.
“Show them,” said Ransom. “Show them what it looks like when a hope is fulfilled and a dream comes true.”
Rose stood and slowly held the sword high over her head. The response was a wave of cheering and sobbing and chanting of her name. Everyone in the boats was filled with excitement and joy— and, as Ransom had said, hope.
“If you’ve recovered enough of your strength,” said Ransom, “we need to get going. There are a great many people waiting for you back in the Nameless Isles.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to create a drawing of the islands there, to keep it a secret?” said Rose.
“All the secrets are out,” said Ransom, “and all the cards are on the table except one—and that’s you. If this doesn’t work, there won’t be any place left to keep a secret.”
“Is it really that dire?” asked Quixote.
“It is,” said Ransom. “But look at all those out there, in the boats. They believed, and here you are. Others believe in you too.”
“And believing is seeing,” said Rose.
“That’s the grand thing about dreams,” Ransom said as he held the card up to the light. “Some may eventually pass on, but there’s always another one to take its place.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Pax Terra
“So the endgame has begun,” said Twain. “The Shadow King is making his move to conquer the Summer Country.”
“I believe so, yes,” Hank Morgan said, nodding. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken the risk of crossing directly here.”
“It was a flaunting of the rules,” said Spenser.
“Says the man sitting next to Richard Burton” Morgan shot back.
“The boy has a point,” said Burton.
“It was the right call,” said John, “and Ransom will hopefully soon be putting the Trump to even better use. But the question remains as to what we should do now. We can’t possibly fight a war on two fronts, in two worlds.”
“Maybe we can,” said Artus.
“What do you mean?” asked John.
Artus held up the horn Samaranth had given him. “It still has one call in it, remember? What if I used it to call the Dragons? Do you think they’d come?”
“I don’t think it would help,” said John. “Remember those whose shadows became Shadow-Born? They were little more than wraiths, drained of life. I think the Dragons might be the same.”
A tearing sound ripped across the hilltop ...
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” asked Twain. “If the dragons have any strength at all, it’s only a blessing to our side.”
“Actually, that wasn’t what I was thinking at all,” said Artus. “I’ve already given up the Dragons for lost. But I think they—or at least, their shadows—might still be summoned by the horn.”
“Forgive me if I missed something,” said Hawthorne, “but aren’t they under our adversary’s control?”
Burton chuckled. “That’s exactly