The Shadow Dragons - James A. Owen [96]
Nemo and several of the Elves marched a prisoner up the steps to the front door of Tamerlane House.
“Greetings, Caretakers,” Burton said. “I seek asylum with you here in the Nameless Isles.”
The roar at the top of the falls was deafening, but Rose and her companions soon realized that it was only the sound of the endless sea crashing against the rim of the world past Terminus that produced the noise. In a normal waterfall, that sound is reflected, amplified, and added to by the water thundering against the rocks below. But as the little craft dropped farther and farther away from the crest of the falls, they realized that falling water produces no sound, only a gentle susurration, as if it were wind blowing through willows.
It took just moments for the light to recede as well. Above and past Terminus was only darkness, so the only light was that which spilled over the top of the waterfall.
Quixote and Professor Sigurdsson quickly released the parachute, which slowed their fall with a violent jolt, but instantly settled them into a much more comfortable and controlled descent.
A few miles down, there was no light at all save that which they’d brought with them: a silver lantern, fastened to the fore of the boat; and a portable tallow lamp and three candles that the professor had persuaded them would be necessary to complete their task.
Archie’s eyes cast a faint greenish glow when he turned away from the light of the lanterns. “We’ve still picked up a great deal of speed,” he said pointedly. “Shouldn’t we try to deploy the balloon before we’re moving so fast it’s simply torn away?”
“We’ve gone past the Edge of the World,” the professor said. “I don’t know if physical laws apply. In truth, I don’t even know if this is water we’re seeing fall, or air we’re passing through, or if we only think it is. I just know that we have to keep going down.”
“Well, at some point ‘down’ will end, correct?” said Archimedes. “You know what they say—it isn’t the fall that kills you, but the sudden stop at the end.”
Quixote and the professor exchanged blinks and rapidly unpacked the balloon. It took no time at all to inflate, and it rose up underneath the parachute, which would serve as a sheath.
Their descent slowed enough that even with no warning, an impact at the bottom would cause minimal damage to the boat. Thus prepared, they settled in to pass the time, and wait.
Professor Sigurdsson pulled a small book out of his pocket and read by the light of the lantern. Quixote, ever vigilant, kept at the prow, watching the darkness. And Rose and Archie stayed busy playing games of logic and inventing word puzzles.
After a while, Rose fell asleep as the professor continued reading—so it was Archimedes and Quixote who were watching out as the light came up below them.
They woke Rose, worried that an impact was imminent, but the diffuse light that surrounded them was part of the very atmosphere some several miles above the bottom of the falls.
“Professor,” Rose asked, “what time is it?”
“Oh, we’re making good time, my dear Rose. Worry not,” he replied. “Just sit back and try to enjoy the ride. I’m sure we’re having a better time of it than Mordred did.”
The waterfall was ever present, but was more visible now. The Scarlet Dragon kept a wide expanse between itself and the falling water, just in case there were any surprises, or other falling objects.
The noise began again, but to nowhere near the degree that they had expected. The water roiled where it struck the earth below, and foam and spray rose up hundreds of feet into the air. It would have—should have—been louder, but there were no rocks or crags for the water to crash against. It simply fell into a smooth basin that rose up to transparent shallows.
The professor guided the Scarlet Dragon over the spray and then down to the water, where he instructed Quixote to deflate and store the balloon and parachute.
“Wouldn’t it be faster to continue flying?” asked Rose.
“Faster, perhaps,” the professor answered, “but we have no