The First Dragon(47)

“I’m sorry,” Sol said again, this time to Samaranth. “If I could ascend, I would. But Rao . . .”

“I understand,” said Samaranth. “You have done all you can. It is time for you to leave, Sol. Watch over us. Warm us. Be a guide to us. And never forget.”

“I won’t,” Sol said. And then he was gone.

Other Cherubim had drawn closer to the companions to watch the star destroy the shadow, but one in particular, a stern-countenanced female, was whispering angrily into Samaranth’s ear. He nodded once, then again, and whispered something back to her before they both turned to face the companions.

Rose suppressed a shudder when she realized who this angel was—and that they had met before.

“Yes,” Charles said quietly. “I remember too, Rose.”

Before the companions traveled further back in time to arrive at the City of Jade, they had been in ancient Greece, where they met Medea, the wife of the legendary hero Jason, and her familiar, a green-gold Dragon named . . .

“Azer,” Samaranth said by way of introduction. “My wife.”

“I beg your pardon,” Charles said, trying to regain his composure, “but I had no idea that angels could marry.”

“It is the way of things,” Samaranth said, “to organize into families. In fact, we were thinking about having a child together, in another billion years or so. But,” he added, with a sudden immeasurable sadness, “that may not be possible—not after this.”

“I will never forgive you for this,” Azer said through clenched teeth. “Know that, Samaranth. Never. You said descent would never be necessary.”

The sadness in Samaranth’s face was almost tangible. “We have a responsibility, my wife. One we accepted long, long ago. You, I, and . . .” He craned his neck, scanning the faces of the Cherubim.

“Who are you looking for?” one of the angels asked.

“Shaitan,” Samaranth replied. “Among the Host, he is the one who is most like . . .” He turned and gestured at Charles and Edmund. “As these Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve are. A . . . friend? I had expected him to be here.”

“There have been a great many things happening today,” the angel replied. “If Shaitan could have come, he would.”

“No matter,” Samaranth said. “We are out of time.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The angels gathered around an enormous circle of water on the terrace outside the tower. It extended out past the cliffs on which the city was built, over the ocean. “The Moon Pool,” Samaranth said. “In it are the tears of the mother of us all, called Idyl, who gave birth to the world when the Word was spoken. With this pool of water, we can choose, and change, and descend.”

“It’s like a larger version of Echo’s Well, on the Lost Boys’ island in the Archipelago,” Charles said to the others. “Jack used it once, years ago, to make himself younger,” he explained, “because in his heart, he was still enough of a boy to become so in reality. He believed himself to be young, and young he became. I think this is something similar.”

“It was touched by the Word,” said Samaranth, “like the Creative Fire, and it changes not our Names, but our Being. Who we are is the same, but we will be Remade, so that the world may be saved.”

He stepped forward and leaned over the pool. A lock of his red hair fell over his eyes, and he pushed it back as he stared at his own reflection.

In rightness’s name



For need of might,



I thus descend



I thus descend



By blood bound



By honor given



I thus descend



I thus descend



For strength and speed and heaven’s power



To serve below in this dark hour



I thus descend



I thus descend



Even as he had started to speak the words, the change had begun. Eddies of light began to swirl about the small, lithe form of the angel Samaranth, changing him as they watched. Without taking his eyes off his reflection in the glistening pool, he grew tall and broad; his flesh turned red, and wings sprouted from his back even as he was growing a tail. In short order, as the echo of the last words faded, his reflection was no longer that of a young man, but of the great Dragon Samaranth.

♦ ♦ ♦

Of all the reunited companions, Uncas was the one who had known all the Dragonships in their glory, and he thrilled at the sight of those familiar visages appearing as, one by one, Samaranth’s companions invoked the change.

“There’s th’ Red Dragon!” he said excitedly. “And th’ Blue Dragon! And Green!” He turned to Quixote. “That one was all’ays a bit temper’mental.”