The First Dragon(74)

“Something?” Rose asked, looking at her father.

“Someone,” Madoc replied, meeting his daughter’s gaze.

“Several someones, actually,” said Jack. “Mordred had dispatched several Shadow-Born to the Summer Country, to seek out and . . . murder our loved ones. Charles’s wife. My mother, and best friend. And John’s young wife, Edith, as well as his eldest child, then newly born.”

Uncas glared at Madoc with barely contained fury. “That in’t right,” he said, his voice low and trembling. “Goin’ after younglings . . . That in’t right.”

Strangely enough, it was the badger’s anger that affected Madoc most of all. Everyone else—every human—he faced squarely, fully accepting that his past sins were choices for which he would continue to pay. But he struggled to meet the badger’s eyes.

“Charles never knew,” Jack continued, “and I was still young and brash enough not to understand the gravity of the situation. But John knew, and understood. And he realized that if we abandoned our duties here to try to race back to save our loved ones, then both worlds might be lost. So the decision was made to soldier on and try to find a way to defeat the Winter King. It was the only way we could save them.”

He paused, and put a hand to his forehead. “I . . . I found out later, through James Barrie, and some of Verne’s Mystorians, that the Shadow-Born came closer than we realized to killing our families. In fact, two of them were right outside Edith’s door—close enough to hear her singing lullabies to young John, the baby, in his crib.

“It was in that moment that Charles and Tummeler figured out how to use Perseus’s shield to close Pandora’s Box and reseal all the Shadow-Born within it. At once, all the—the Shadow-Born vanished, including the assassins that had been dispatched to the Summer Country.”

“I never heard that story,” Uncas said, eyes shining with pride. “Your grandfather was a credit to badgers everywhere,” he said, clapping Fred on the back. “A credit, I tell you.”

“The reason I wanted to share that story,” Jack continued as he leaned against the railing, “is so that you understand that all our choices are cumulative—and we must always keep the bigger picture in mind. Sometimes . . . sometimes the stakes that are more personal can distract us from the goals that are more necessary to achieve. And that’s—that’s when you must be resolute. . . .”

The Caretaker’s voice trailed off as he rubbed his temple. “I—I think I need to sit down.”

Before any of the companions could assist him, Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward, already unconscious.





Standing atop the rocks before them . . . was a Cherubim . . .





Chapter TWENTY-TWO


The Lonely Isle



“It’s happened several times,” Jack admitted as Laura Glue dabbed at his forehead with a damp cloth. “Mostly just headaches, but they’ve been increasing in frequency and intensity over the last few years. And in the last several months, I’ve started having blackouts.”

“And no one at Tamerlane House noticed?” asked Rose.

Jack shook his head and propped himself up to a sitting position. “I’m good at hiding the headaches,” he admitted. “That’s what a lifetime of British reserve will do for you. And only Dumas ever saw me black out, but I managed to explain it away. I didn’t want any of them thinking something was amiss.”

“You’re already dead,” Charles said bluntly. “You’re technically a portrait, Jack, and I’m a thought-form given flesh. People like us don’t get headaches or have blackouts. It simply doesn’t happen.”

“If he’s stable for the moment,” said Edmund, “we can discuss it later. I think we’ve arrived.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The wall at the End of the World stood above a shallow beach, which was barely wide enough to pull a boat onto, but the wall itself rose so high that not even the keen-eyed Archie could fly high enough to see the top of it.

“Is it even possible to get over or through?” Jack asked. “Can it be done, Madoc?”

“I could not have done it then,” said Madoc. “That is indisputable, because heaven knows I tried. I walked the length of the wall in both directions until my strength gave out, and the only way to restore it was to return here, to the center. The compulsion was unbearable, but crossing was impossible. And thus is hell on earth attained. But now, yes—it may be possible.”

“Because you’re a Dragon?” asked Fred.