The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [53]
He bowed to Chaucer and returned to his seat as the older man rose. “The floor is yours, Geoff.”
“As Senior Caretaker,” Chaucer began.
“Humph,” snorted da Vinci, who then muttered a curse in Latin.
“As Senior Caretaker” Chaucer repeated more solidly, “it falls to me to present the dilemma presently facing the two worlds. It is only the gravest of circumstances that require us to meet, in the flesh, to determine a course of action.
“Centuries ago, an evil man called the Winter King attempted to conquer the Archipelago by slaying his nephew Thorn, also called the Arthur, and in doing so, he nearly destroyed our world.
“Our world and the Archipelago are inseparably linked. What happens in one influences the other. And the Winter King’s war in the Archipelago plunged our world into the Dark Ages.”
“They weren’t all that dark,” said Malory.
“Now, Tom,” said Spenser.
“After a terrible battle,” Chaucer continued, “the Winter King was defeated and went into hiding, somewhere on the edges of the world. A new High King, Artigel, was crowned, and the Imaginarium Geographica was made available to him to help unify his rule of the Archipelago.
“The strength of Artigel and of all the High Kings who followed came from the Ring of Power, which allowed them to summon the great Dragons, who have always been the guardians of the Archipelago and all who reside within. But there was also a Prophecy that one day the Winter King would return, and bring darkness to both worlds.”
“Oh, dear,” said Charles.
“Shush,” said Jack. “He’s just getting to the interesting part.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Charles.
Chaucer went on. “The Prophecy said he could be defeated only by three scholars, men of imagination from our world. But as the years passed, the Prophecy, and the warning, was forgotten.
“Then, after centuries of hiding, the Winter King reemerged just as the Prophecy said, leading an army of terrible creatures from all the dark corners of the world. He once again sought to wreak havoc on the two worlds, and would very nearly have succeeded, had it not been for the three Caretakers of Prophecy: the successors of Bert and Stellan.”
He gestured to John, Jack, and Charles, and as one the Caretakers Emeritus began a round of vigorous table thumping, punctuated by cheers, whistles, and “Well done’s.”
John beamed, as did Charles. Jack, however, had learned to be more cautious, and he suspected that the story was not yet finished.
“If we are the three of Prophecy,” Jack said when the applause died down, “then why was it necessary to keep it a secret for so long? Especially from us? Why not tell us, before all those events had become history?”
“There are Histories, and then there are Prophecies,” Professor Sigurdsson explained. “Histories tell us of what was, and are dangerous only in that they contain secrets that might be cautiously shared. Prophecies tell us of what may be, and thus are full of mysteries that may be spoiled in the sharing.”
Several of the others nodded and thumped on the table in agreement.
“A History shared only expands knowledge,” said Chaucer, “which may then be used for good or evil. But to share a Prophecy too soon, or in the wrong company, risks a cascade of complications that may change the Histories themselves.”
John, Jack, and Charles reddened with shame, each thinking of different situations but with the same cause: Are we here to be reprimanded? Did we do too poor a job?
“Every one of us has made mistakes,” Bert said, correctly reading the expressions on his friends’ faces, “but that wasn’t why we couldn’t tell you.”
“We didn’t tell you,” the professor continued, “because that would have compromised what was most important to your performance as Caretakers—your own point of view and natural judgment. If you knew there was a Prophecy about you,