The Search for the Red Dragon

by James A. Owen

  The massive barrel-chested Indian turned and pulled something from a bramble bush that he handed to John. It was the Imaginarium Geographica.

  John started to stammer a thank-you, but Hairy Billy merely smiled his openmouthed, grotesquely tongueless smile, then turned and motioned for them all to follow.

  Jack grinned. “Burton thought he was so clever with his secret society and covert agents,” he said. “He didn’t realize it works both ways.”

  In silence they followed the Indian through the underbrush of the pine forest for almost a quarter of an hour before finally emerging into a broad clearing. There ahead of them was the unmistakable rise of another island, and in between, nothing but a mile or so of moist sand. In the distance was a sound of thunder, which grew louder with each passing second.

  “That’s not thunder,” Laura Glue said when she realized they were scanning the sky for storm clouds. “We have to hurry, please!”

  Hairy Billy made several motions with his hands, indicating that he could go no farther with them, then squeezed Aven’s shoulder briefly and disappeared into the trees.

  Back in the direction from which they’d come, there arose a great hue and cry, and a roaring of fury that could only have come from Burton.

  “Our absence has been noted,” said Bert. “We’d best hurry along.”

  “To what end?” said John, scanning the expanse ahead of them. “They’ll be on us in a few minutes, and then we’ll be back where we started—only this time, there’ll be no pacifying Burton.”

  “Listen to her!” cried Aven, grabbing Laura with one hand and Bert with the other. “Just follow us and try to keep up!”

  With that the three took off at a dead run across the sand. John, Jack, and Charles had little choice but to follow.

  It was when the companions were almost halfway across the expanse of sand that their pursuers burst out of the forest and onto the sand. Turning to gauge their pursuit, the Caretakers suddenly realized what the increasingly loud sound was.

  It was not thunder. It was the incoming tide. And it was rushing across the sand with terrifying speed.

  “Step in time, gentlemen,” John yelled as he picked up his pace. Up ahead, Aven, Laura Glue, and Bert had nearly reached the nearby high ground, which, in just a few moments, would be an island.

  The sound of the water was so deafening now that they could no longer hear the cries of their pursuers, but a stolen glance back told them that a number of Croatoans had indeed followed them out onto the sand.

  The force of the water was pushing a wall of air before it that nearly knocked them off of their feet, and the spray from the foam had already soaked them to the skin before they reached the cluster of rocks where the other three were waiting anxiously.

  John reached the rocks first, then Jack, and finally, the water crashing down at his heels, Charles. Just inches away, a flood of biblical proportions filled the expanse between them and Croatoan Island and as far as the eye could see.

  The noise it brought was a sound of ragged beauty. The harmonies of a wall of water falling into a narrow space speak of chaos, and strength, and inevitability, and they are beautiful in their terrible splendor.

  The Croatoans foolish enough to pursue them didn’t even have time to scream before being swept away, while on the opposite shore, Burton and the rest of their pursuers had been completely cut off by the thundering waves.

  “Mustn’t we keep running?” Charles said to the others, who were watching the roiling waters rush by. “It’s going to settle in a few minutes, and they’ll just be after us again.”

  Laura Glue giggled, shook her head, and pointed.

  Out in the water was one of the Croatoans, who’d been identified at the council as Jinty. He was nearly seven feet tall, and his great stride had allowed him to far outpace the others, trapping him in the onrushing tide. But instead of pushing forward, he seemed to be frantically trying to get back to the dry shore where Burton and the rest had stopped.

  He was mere yards from safety when a great beast, which resembled a porpoise the size of a London bus, snatched him between jaws filled with needlelike teeth.

  “That’s jus’ one of the little ones,” said Laura Glue. “Until the tide goes out again tonight, no one’s going to be chasing us.”

  In a flash the girl’s expression shifted from triumph to one of misery. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “I’ve lost my flower!”

  Jack placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Laura Glue. We don’t need it anymore—not while we have you. You saved us again, didn’t you?”

  He bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “That, my dear girl, was a kiss,” he said.

  Laura Glue blushed. “Jamie’s kisses are prettier to look at,” she said, smiling, “but that was okay too, f’r a Longbeard.”

  The companions moved farther along the shoreline and began to explore the island the girl had led them to. It was not dissimilar to Croatoan Island, but it seemed…older. More ancient. The trees were more deciduous than evergreen, and they radiated a scent of antiquity, as if they’d always been there. As if they’d always be there.

  But of all their reactions to this new topography, Aven’s was the most profound. In direct contrast to their surroundings, she actually seemed…younger.

  And it was then that her father realized where they were.

  “This is it,” Bert said, “isn’t it? This is Jamie and Peter’s Nether Land.”

  “I think so,” said Aven, looking at Laura Glue, who was happily bobbing her head in agreement. “It feels right. I can’t say for certain until we’ve gone farther inland.”

  “This way!” Laura Glue exclaimed, grabbing Aven and Jack by the hands. “Follow me! I know the way!”

  With one last look across to the island where shortly before they’d been held as prisoners, the companions stepped into the broadleaf forest and disappeared into the Nether Land.

  Laura Glue marched them through increasingly dense foliage, often taking pathways that seemed to the others to be illogically convoluted. But she insisted that the twists and turns and switchbacks were necessary, and Aven generally agreed.

  “The Lost Boys have been at war with the Indians for a long time,” Aven told the others. “Booby-trapping the forest is one way to fend off any attacks—or at least, slow them down long enough to warn us that enemies are coming.”

  “What kind of booby traps?” Charles said, craning his head around nervously. “And are they effective?”

  “Effective enough,” replied Aven. “Peter gave the job to two brothers, the Skelton boys, and just the initial tests were enough to keep the rest of us from tromping around out here without checking on where they put the traps.”

  “What happened during the tests?” asked Jack.

  “That’s when we gived the Skelton boys their nicknames,” Laura Glue put in. “Stumpy and One-Eye.”

  “Sorry I asked,” said Jack.

  It took most of the day, or the day’s equivalent in the Underneath, for the companions to make their way through the forest. Occasionally they heard the sounds of birds, but they neither saw nor heard any other creatures. But every so often, they could feel something watching. Bert, John, and Charles exchanged concerned glances, but Aven, Jack, and Laura Glue seemed not to notice. Aven in particular grew more and more animated as the trees began to thin and the terrain grew more hillpocked.

  “Look!” she exclaimed, jumping across a large boulder at the base of a huge oak. “It’s my house! Father, look!”

  There amidst the tangle of roots was a child-size set of furniture made of sticks woven together with reeds and sapling strips. There were remnants of what might have been a tea set scattered among the leaves and forest debris, and underneath the table she found a tarnished, twisted silver spoon.

  “This is where I used to play, when I came here with Jamie!” she said excitedly. “He helped me build the furniture, and we had a set of spoons he’d brought with him fr
om London. We were the envy of all the Lost Boys, having real spoons for tea.”

  “Fascinating,” said Charles.

  “There are imaginary houses and tearooms like this one set up all throughout the hills,” Aven went on. “We’re close now. We’re very close.”

  With that, she carefully placed the spoon on the woodland table and turned to the others. “Follow us,” she said, taking Laura Glue’s hand once more. “We know the way from here—and there aren’t any more traps.

  “I’ve come home.”

  Laura Glue and Aven took off at a quick clip, and the men had to lengthen their strides just to keep them in sight. The forest continued to thin, with the mighty oaks giving way to slighter, paler aspens and stout, bushy cedars.

  Eventually the trees stopped altogether, and there was nothing ahead but a high rise of colored sand. Aven and Laura Glue were atop it and waving at the companions to join them.

  “There,” said Laura Glue, pointing to the near horizon. “That’s our city.”

  From a distance, what Laura Glue called a “city” looked like a fortress that fragmented into a cluster of volcanic flumes, rising high above multicolored but otherwise unimpressive dunes of sand and stone.

  “Uh, is it behind the sand?” asked Charles.

  “It’s no use just looking for our houses,” said Laura Glue. “You won’t see them. Not yet, anyways.”

  “Why not?” asked John.

  “Well,” Laura Glue replied, “it’s because here, in the Nether Land, our houses are the exact opposite of your houses in Angle Land. There you can see the houses in the day, but not when it gets dark. But here it’s exactly the opposite. Our houses are the color of night, so you can’t see them in the daytime, only at night.”

  “You mean your houses are black?” Charles asked.

  Laura Glue scowled. “Of course not! Night isn’t black, it’s just dark. There’s a difference, you know.”

  “Sorry,” said Charles.

  “The things that seem dull in the daytime are magic at night,” said Laura Glue. “And that’s where we live—in the magic houses.”

  “It is getting toward nightfall again,” Bert observed, scanning the sky. “Will we see them soon?”

  “Yes,” said Aven, who was practically glowing with joy. “Just wait. And watch.”

  The light of the Underneath began to fade into slumbering pastels; and as it did, the city of the Lost Boys began to awaken.

  It was indistinct at first: small pinpoints of light here and there. But as the sky darkened, the lights became brighter and more colorful. The warmth of lanterns sprang up in cultivated rows, and sparkling lights that moved with life spun in circular angles, as if someone had electrified giant spiderwebs and draped them over the stone towers.

  As the lights appeared, the companions could see that it wasn’t a desert at all, but an oasis filled with magic. There were pools of water reflecting the glittering homes above, and bridges connecting the towers that moments before had seemed only a mirage, a trick of the light.

  It was everything a magic city was supposed to be. And it could only have been created by children, for there was no board or brick of it that would have been imagined by an adult—and when adults saw it, it was not with grown-up eyes, but with the eyes of the children they had once been.

  “Well of course you can see it!” Laura Glue said indignantly in response to the exclamations of the others. “I told you it was here!

  “We call it Haven.”

  At the edges of the city, set within broad stone walls, was a series of grates that were nearly covered over with warning and keep out! signs. Laura Glue ignored them all and marched straight to a grate with a sign that read speake the passwords or be kilt.

  Charles leaned toward the grate. “Alakazam!” he said loudly, to no effect.

  “Nice try,” offered John.

  “Do you know the passwords?” Jack asked Laura Glue.

  “Of course I do!” she exclaimed. “You all just got me discombobulated, is all.”

  The girl tapped her forehead for a moment and pursed her lips. Then she leaned in close to the grate and began to call out the secret words—and was answered in turn by the voice of a gatekeeper somewhere within.

  “Apple core!”

  “Baltimore!”

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “Me!”

  There was a gasp and a giggle, then the sound of a creaking, rusty mechanism being turned. Slowly the grate swung inward, and a light appeared in the tunnel below. A puckish face appeared, framed by an explosion of ribboned, light brown pigtails that stuck out in every direction.

  “Laura Glue?” the girl with the lamp said, hesitant. “Is that be you, Laura my Glue?”

  “Sadie!” Laura Glue exclaimed joyfully, running forward. “Sadie Pepperpot, it is be me! I be coming home, neh?”

  “Neh,” replied the girl, giving the evil eye to the rest of the group. “What you bring with you? You bring Longbeards to the city?”

  Laura Glue shook her head. “Not Longbeards. Caretakers, like Jamie. We got to take them in, now!”

  Still skeptical, the girl turned and trotted off down the tunnel. Laura Glue followed, and Aven went right behind her. The companions brought up the rear, and in a few moments the tunnel gave way to an opening of brick, which came up underneath a large stone fountain of Pegasus.

  The fountain was in the center of a courtyard, and there, amidst a dozen children running about, a regal, thin-framed man with curly brown hair and a hawkish nose stood and spread his arms in greeting.

  Laura Glue let out a shriek of joy and ran to the man, leaping into his arms.

  “Uncle Daedalus!” she cried out. “I did it! I flew! I flew all the way to the Summer Country, and then I flew all the way back!

  “And I brung the Caretakers,” she added, “even though they’re not Jamie.”

  “You did wonderfully, my little Laura Glue,” said the man, hugging her tightly, then lowering her to the ground. “Why don’t you see if there’s room for a few guests at dinner, neh?”

  Still cheshiring from ear to ear, Laura Glue ran off and joined another group of children. Additional shrieks indicated that her greetings were continuing. The man she called Daedalus shook hands with the companions as Bert introduced all of them one by one. When Daedalus got to Aven, he smiled and then kissed her on the forehead.

  “My word,” said Charles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush before.”

  “You have been missed,” Daedalus said to her. “It brings me joy to see you again, even though the circumstances be grim.”

  Before he could elaborate, Laura Glue came rushing back, trailing a group of children the likes of which none of them had ever seen. There was a flurry of introductions as Laura Glue rattled off the names of her friends for John, Jack, Charles, and Bert. But again, it was Aven they were focused on, and they looked at her with something akin to awe.

  “Is it true?” asked a lanky, towheaded boy called Fred the Goat, who had been caught midmeal and talked with his mouth full. “Are you really a Mother?”

  “I am,” said Aven. “That’s why I’ve come back. We’re searching for my son.”

  “Back?” asked the girl Laura Glue called Meggie Tree-and-Leaf, who in fact resembled a bramble bush. “When were you here before?”

  “Don’t you remember her?” exclaimed Laura Glue. “This is Poppy! She’s come back to us at last!”

  Fred the Goat’s mouth dropped open and a half-chewed carrot fell out. “Poppy Longbottom? F’r reals?”

  “Poppy Longbottom?” said John. “Hah! Did you really choose that yourself?”

  “Oh, shut up,” Aven said over her shoulder. She turned back to Fred the Goat. “Yes, I’m Poppy. At least I used to be. But you can call me Aven now.”

  “Hmm,” mused the girl named Sadie Pepperpot, who had opened the grate to admit them. “Aven. That’s a good Mother name.”

  “I don’t believe her,” said a small
boy with a shock of black hair that stuck straight up from his head. “I think she’s just another Longbeard, except, you know, without the beard.”

  “I’ll have you know, Pelvis Parsley,” Aven said, bending low to look at him an inch from his nose, “I am indeed Poppy Longbottom, and I can prove it.”

  She reached inside her blouse and pulled something out of a pocket hidden in the lining. She held her hand in front of Pelvis Parsley’s face, then slowly opened it.

  Resting on her palm was a small silver thimble.

  Pelvis Parsley’s eyes saucered. “Holy socks!” he exclaimed. “You have a kiss from Jamie? Then you really must be Poppy!”

  With that the boy let out a war whoop and began dancing around the room, pulling Aven along by the hand. The other children picked up the yell, and soon the din was overwhelming.

  “You know,” Jack said to Daedalus over the clamor, “Laura Glue was quite put out if we called her by less than her full name—but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else if she just calls them ‘Poppy’ or ‘Sadie.’”

  Daedalus grinned. “At one point in time, there were no less than five Lauras among the Lost Boys. And, as Laura Glue was the smallest of them, she clung very tightly to anything that would make her distinctive. In particular, her name.”

  “Hah.” Jack laughed. “There’s plenty more than just her name that sets that girl apart from the crowd.”

  “Indeed,” said Daedalus.

  The noise continued as everyone took their places along several long tables laden with dishes and plates—all of which were empty.

  “Ah, is the food still being prepared?” asked Charles. “Or have you already finished eating?”

  “Finished?” said Fred the Goat. “We barely got started. I’m only two courses in.”

  “How many courses are there?” asked John.

  “Eleventy-seven,” replied Fred. “Unless you count dessert. Then there’s more.”

  “Good heavens!” Jack exclaimed. “That’s a lot of courses. Who prepares it all?”

  Laura Glue laughed. “We all do, gravy-head.”