The First Dragon(41)

“This summit has been ongoing for almost a century and a half of Chronos time,” said Samaranth, “and the Un-Made World has remained so the entire time, because we have not yet earned that stewardship.

“The Watchers and their children,” he continued, “seek to claim it for themselves, and that is not part of the plan given to us by the Word. It was meant to be connected to this world, to be used by all, but we have failed. This world is dying. And to abandon it would be unconscionable. It would not be”—he glanced at Charles—“Taking Care.”

“It is not our failure!” Rao exclaimed. “When the Adam was given responsibility to govern this world, he divided the responsibility equally between the Imago and the Archimago. And we have all seen how that turned out.

“But,” he added, “in one thing you are correct. It is a divided world. We seek to do the same as you advocate, and unite it again.”

“By allowing this world to perish first, and for your own purposes, Rao,” Samaranth said, “and not to serve the peoples of this world, who will live or die based on what we decide here today.”

“There is another way,” a new voice said, which silenced the entire chamber. The Jade Empress had spoken. “There is still a chance to save this world, to end the drought that has plagued it and restore it to the state it was in at the time of the Adam.”

She reached into one of her sleeves and withdrew a single, perfect red rose. On it were three dewdrops that shone with a light so brilliant that it reflected through the entire room.

“No!” Rao hissed at her. “Not now!”

Once more the assembly erupted in whisperings and murmurings over what was a clear violation of protocol.

“What is this . . . ?” Samaranth murmured. He and Sycorax exchanged bewildered glances, and both looked back to the star, then again to the empress. Rose followed their glances and realized that underneath the flowing robes, T’ai Shan was wearing armor. The Ruby Armor.

“Ah,” Samaranth said. “I think at last I understand.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head, and a wave of energy seemed to ripple outward from him, touching every attendee of the summit, including Charles.

“Rao gave the empress his fire,” he whispered to Rose and Edmund, “just as in the story Lord Winter told us in the far future. She used the star’s fire to forge the armor that she needed to find the talisman—a rose—that held the power to end the great drought. I think,” he added, “that the wheels are about to come off the apple cart.”

“You have no jurisdiction over our children, Samaranth,” one of the Nephilim said brusquely. “Not while you reside in the City of Jade. Only here, within these walls, may you dictate what will or will not happen. Out there, we—and our offspring—are free.”

A hue and cry rose up from the rest of the Nephilim, led by Salathiel, followed by equal cries of outrage and fervor from the principalities.

For his part, Rao had already begun dashing up one of the stairs, focused entirely on the Jade Empress. She watched him advancing, and the look of sadness on her face was wrenching. He had nearly reached the dais when she stood . . .

. . . and dropped the rose, and the dewdrops, directly into the circle of flames below, which exploded with light. In seconds, the entire room erupted into chaos.

The Watcher Salathiel lifted a huge, curved golden trumpet and sounded a note that rang out so loudly that it seemed as if the walls would shatter.

“Og! Ogias!” he called out. “Gog and Magog! Orestes and Fafnir! All you who are the grandsons of the Fallen angel Samhazi! I summon you to my side! Aid us, my children!”

“Fallen!” Samaranth exclaimed. “They have Named themselves as Fallen! This changes it all! We have to leave, now!”

♦ ♦ ♦

As the note had promised, Naming Madoc as a Nephilim did indeed allow the Indigo Dragon and all its passengers to pass by the wall of giants unmolested. But the relief the companions felt was short-lived, because as they flew past the immense limbs, the giants suddenly turned and began to stride purposefully toward the city.

Decades of dust and decay that had built up on the motionless bodies of the giants suddenly scattered and fell, forming a dust cloud that filled the air for hundreds of feet, and which stretched for fifty miles.

“What did we do?” a horrified Laura Glue said as the shadows of the giants covered them, and Madoc and Quixote both moved protectively closer to her and the badgers.

“I don’t think we did anything,” said Madoc. “They aren’t focused on us, they’re focused on the city itself.”