The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [35]
The Caretakers each thanked him and bade him good-bye. Don Quixote gave him a stiff and formal bow, which they were surprised to see returned. Rose gave the old mapmaker a hug, then kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you, Uncle Merlin,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, pressing her away. “Be about your business. I must return to mine.”
He turned away from the companions and took up his quill, then began to sketch on the parchment at his desk as if they weren’t even in the room.
“Well enough,” said John. “Let’s take another trip, shall we?”
As they had done with the Trump of the keep, John held up the parchment so they could all concentrate on it. In seconds the soft susurrations of the breezes of Avalon began to swirl through the picture and into the chamber.
The image began to grow, until it filled the entire wall next to the door. Charles, Jack, and Rose moved through, followed by Archimedes and Quixote. John stepped through last, but only after one final glance at the Cartographer. The old man never looked up or ceased sketching with his quill.
The picture began to shrink rapidly, and in moments, it had vanished altogether.
For the rest of the day, the Cartographer sketched random lines across the parchment, creating the illusion of working, but in reality he was making motions at his desk for their own sake. He continued to do so until the point of his quill snapped, splattering ink across the sheet.
In frustration the old mapmaker crumpled up the page and threw it across the room. His lip quivered, and his eyes welled with moisture. Only a single tear escaped and trailed down his cheek to his chin, dropping to the floor, before he took out another sheet of parchment and a fresh pen and once more began to draw.
Attending to the various globes were three women . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Grotto
The island of Avalon occupies an unusual place within the wonder of creation, as it is the only island that exists equally in both the natural world and in that of the Archipelago of Dreams.
As such, it became the first true crossing place between the worlds. In the past there had been other points of passage— usually accidental—but experiments in recent years using dragon feathers and vehicles other than the Dragonships had proven that connections between the worlds are everywhere. With the proper preparation, it was possible to cross from any point along the Frontier, the great barrier of storms that protected the Archipelago, into any corresponding point in the natural world.
The steam-powered vehicles called principles had been used on occasion, but most frequently, Bert and other travelers had crossed over in the Dragonships, which Prince Stephen had refashioned into airships. So there was little need to sail on the waters through the traditional crossing point that was Avalon.
A shame, John thought as he stepped through the parchment, especially considering the glory that this island once was.
In their journey through the past to rescue Hugo Dyson, John and Jack had been able to see Avalon in its pristine state: alabaster columns supporting high stone arches; glistening temples of marble and mother-of-pearl; walkways and walls of stone inlaid with jade. It was the Golden Age of the gods made manifest in a single ethereal vision. Only the vision was real, as were the goddesses who inhabited it.
“Well,” Charles said once they had all moved through the parchment, “it’s a bit more crumbly around the edges, but otherwise, it actually feels good to see this shabby old island again.”
John chuckled to himself and winked at Jack. Of course Charles would see it differently than they did. He hadn’t been with them on that adventure—not this Charles, at any rate. The “Charles” they’d had with them was from another timeline and was called Chaz. And he made a sacrifice of his own, becoming the first protector of Avalon—the first Green Knight.
“I wonder,” said Charles in what was practically a continuation of John’s thinking,