He folded the spyglass closed and slid down the wall behind him, sitting on the smooth pavement. The buildings all around him and even the ground beneath him were vibrating constantly now, and in the distance, he could see cracks starting to form in some of the greater towers.
It would not be long now.
Outside in the city, those who still remained could be heard praying. Some were reciting histories; others, poetry. Each denizen who knew what was approaching had chosen to meet his fate in his own way, as Kipling had chosen to meet his.
He started to recite one of his poems, then paused before starting another, but he stopped reciting that one too. “Curse it all,” he muttered to no one in particular, “I really should have written some less depressing poems.”
He finally settled on “En-Dor,” mostly because several stanzas were a comfort to him, even if the overall poem was not. Still, it was a good poem, and there, in that place, at that moment, that was as good a legacy as any, he decided. He had written a good poem, and he had done good things, and he thought if his son had been there, he would be proud of his father.
A loud rumbling startled him out of his reverie, and the light from outside dimmed, as if a cloud had moved in front of the sun. It wasn’t a cloud, Kipling knew.
He closed his eyes and continued to recite the poem as the massive wave moved into the city, toppling towers and overwhelming everything in its path.
♦ ♦ ♦
On their approach to the gate, the companions were relieved to see that the controls and aperture began to glow as soon as Madoc was near.
“That’s what we like t’ see,” said Fred. “Dragon power! Boom!”
It took only a few minutes for Edmund to complete the drawing of Enoch. He added one or two more flourishes, then with Fred’s assistance, he set it into the spot on the gate next to the control crystals.
“Hmm,” said Madoc. “That visage looks terribly familiar to me, but I can’t quite place it.”
“As long as it gets us to him,” said Edmund. “That’s all I’m concerned about.”
“I just hope,” said Laura Glue, “that we don’t end up parking the entire Zanzibar Gate right on top of him, like they did with that house the tornado dropped on the witch in Oz.”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean for that to happen,” said Uncas.
“I’m sure they did,” said Laura Glue. “The way I heard it, it took them three tries to actually get her.”
“Well, we have one try to get this right,” said Edmund. “We’re good to go—all the settings are locked.”
Madoc stood atop the deck, stretched his wings, and took a last look around. The refugees still in the encampments were either disassembling tents, or frantically running back and forth, or praying. In the opposite direction, Deucalion’s great ark was sealed up and waiting to fulfill its purpose. And ahead of them, the future and the past were both waiting to be created.
“All right,” he said finally. “Take us through, Fred.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The companions aboard the Indigo Dragon had no idea what to expect when they passed through the gate. There was no transition period, no time to adjust to a new environment. It was almost instantaneous, and very similar to walking through one of the doors at the keep.
What the Indigo Dragon moved into was a fairy forest.
It was night, and the skies were dark, but everything around them glowed with pulsing, vibrant, living lights that illuminated the airship and its occupants with greens and blues and other colors they would not have believed were possible on earth.
There was a ring of tall, mostly branchless trees that towered above a smaller grove of thicker, leafier varieties. The shrubbery was so thick that the ground was almost impossible to see, and everything seemed to glow of its own accord. Lights, like fireflies but not, floated lazily among the foliage, giving off more than enough light for the companions to see by.
“Oh,” Laura Glue said as she reached for Edmund’s hand. “Oh, it is so beautiful.”
Uncas lifted his nose and sniffed. “It all smells like mint,” he declared. “I like it.”
“I thought we were coming to find a master builder. An architect,” said Edmund. “Instead, we find this . . .”
“Garden,” a voice said from the far side of the trees. “I know it must pale in comparison to the original, but I never had the pleasure of seeing that one in person, so I’ve simply done the best that I can.”
They stepped off the airship and walked around the trees to better see who had spoken. There, sitting on a stool, was a man who very strongly resembled the drawing Edmund had done. He glanced briefly at the companions, then resumed his work, which was creating a city in the sky.