The First Dragon (Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica, The)

by Owen, James A.

  Kirke ran first to Rose and grabbed Caliburn out of the scabbard. He circled the others warily, holding the sword menacingly in front of him.

  “You’re outnumbered,” Madoc warned him, “and if you try to use that sword, it will break on you. I promise you that.”

  “Not if I’m worthy,” said Kirke as Bangs circled around in the other direction. “And a part of me must be, or I wouldn’t be holding it now.”

  “Who are you?” Rose asked, eyes narrowing.

  “My friend, Mr. Bangs, was a tulpa,” Kirke said. “The first Dee ever created, from a shadow of a whisper of the last words spoken by the first Imago, who was murdered by his elder brother.”

  “Abel,” Jack whispered. “Dee made a tulpa out of Abel.”

  “Indeed,” Kirke said. “But he was imperfect. I, however, am not. And I intend to claim my due, and inherit the earth.”

  “You’re a tulpa too, aren’t you?” asked Rose. “So who are you, really?”

  “You should know,” Kirke said, looking at Charles. “As should you,” he added, looking now at Jack. “Having any headaches lately?”

  “Oh, dear Lord in heaven,” Charles exclaimed, growing pale. “Why do I have to be in the middle of every awful thing that happens in the Archipelago?”

  “Who is it?” Jack asked.

  Kirke took off his glasses, and suddenly they all recognized him.

  “You, Jack,” he said, smiling. “I’m you.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Before the companions could react, Kirke leaped out at Rose, but it was only a feint—one he had been taught by Laura Glue and Hawthorne. Madoc immediately leaped to protect her, and Kirke cut a vicious stroke across one of his wings, dropping the Dragon to the ground in agony.

  “I know everything you know, Jack,” Kirke said, still smiling, “and I know all your moves before you make them.”

  Suddenly Bangs jumped forward and struck Laura Glue a terrible blow on the head, and she fell unconscious. Edmund let out a cry and swung a fist at Bangs, who countered it easily and then pinned the young Cartographer to the ground.

  “One by one, you are losing allies, Jack,” Kirke said menacingly, “and with every second that passes, I grow stronger while you grow weaker. You’ve lost,” he continued, his voice triumphant. “You’ve lost everything now. All that remains is for you to kneel at my feet and acknowledge the truth of things—that this world belongs now and forever to the Echthroi.”

  “That,” Jack said, suddenly calmer, “is the first mistake I’ve seen you make, ‘Mr. Kirke.’ ”

  “Mistake?” Kirke said, momentarily confused. “What mistake?”

  “You’re not Echthroi,” said Jack. “Not if you can wield Caliburn. And that means you are more like me than you think. And you may know how to beat all my friends, but I,” he said, feeling more confident with every passing second, “know how to defeat you.”

  Kirke’s face drew into a rictus mask of anger. “Just try it, Caretaker,” he hissed. “I am going to rule this world.”

  At this Jack stepped forward, and to the others’ astonishment, he was smiling. “That,” he said, rolling up his sleeves, “is never going to happen.”

  Kirke frowned, and his eyes narrowed. “You have nothing left, no allies who can defeat me. It . . . is . . . over.”

  “Over?” Jack snorted. “It’s never over until you win—and for you to do that, all we have to do is stop. Defeating you might just be impossible—but as long as we continue to fight, you can’t win. You’ll never win. And if it takes an eternity, I swear by all that’s holy on earth and in heaven, I will never stop. Never. Never. Never.”

  “Jack, this is the moment!” Charles exclaimed. “The one written about in the Histories! The fate of the past, present, and future of the world is at stake! If he defeats you, you’ll die—and he will become Lord Winter in the future! This is the moment when the Echthroi take over! You can’t just—”

  His friend cut him off with a calmly upraised hand. “It’s all right, old fellow,” Jack said as he moved to engage Kirke.

  “I got this.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “We are the same,” Kirke said, stepping back but still brandishing the sword. “We share the same aiua, you and I—and I am growing stronger. Soon I will have it all, and you will be dead.”

  “The headaches!” Rose exclaimed as she tended to the injured Madoc. “That’s why Jack has been getting sick! There have been two of him this whole time! One, the living, breathing Jack in Prime Time, who then became the portrait at Tamerlane, and the other, the tulpa that Charles made and Dr. Dee corrupted!”

  “Exactly so,” said Kirke. “But I wasn’t corrupted, I’m who Jack really is. Your father saw that in me the first time we met, all those years ago.”

  “You’re a part of me, yes,” Jack said. “A part, but not all.”

  “This is reality, Jack!” Kirke exclaimed. “You cannot defeat me, because I am your opposite number. I am the player on the other side, and we are as evenly matched as any two men in history—except I am stronger.”

  “No,” Jack said as a sudden realization flooded through him. “You aren’t.”

  He put down his arms and simply looked at Kirke.

  “We can never stop fighting against our own nature,” Jack said softly, “but we can accept it as a part of who we are, and embrace it. Look around you,” he continued. “Your masters have abandoned you. It is your allies who have been defeated, not mine. And the Archipelago is about to be restored to the world, in service of the Word.”

  “Nnnnnaaaaghhhhh!!!” Kirke screamed. “I won’t permit it! You cannot do this, Jack! I . . .” He stopped, then dropped to his knees, and the cries of defiance turned to plaintive whimpers.

  “I don’t want to go!” he exclaimed, almost pleading. “I want to live! I deserve to live!”

  “Yes, you do,” Jack said, kneeling in front of the tulpa. “And you shall, as a part of me. The part I could not deny when I was young, and cannot deny now.”

  “Mr. Bangs!” Kirke cried, more weakly now. “Help me!”

  But the other tulpa had already stopped fighting and was simply standing apart from the others, watching.

  “Don’t worry,” Jack said as he reached out to embrace the tulpa. “I know who you are, and I accept you, and you are not alone.”

  The Caretaker wrapped his arms around his shadow-self and pulled him close. The tulpa resisted a moment more, and then gave up his resistance. Kirke started to fade, turning back into the smoke from which he was made, and in seconds, he was gone.

  Jack stood up and brushed off his trousers, then walked to the edge of the waterfall and simply stood there, looking out into the abyss.

  “That’s all well and good,” Fred said as he, Uncas, and Charles helped their injured friends, “but what’s to be done with Bangs there? I don’t think any of us is equipped t’ hug him into smoke.”

  Rose picked up Caliburn and strode over to Bangs, but he offered no resistance. Instead he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

  “Please,” he said, his voice raspy from sorrow and centuries of pain, “release me.”

  “I don’t want to kill you,” Rose began, but he cut her short.

  “Already dead,” he said, “oh so long ago. The man I was is sitting with the angels at the end of all things, but cannot go on until you release the aiua from this body that was created. And only an Imago or an Archimago can release their own.”

  Rose closed her eyes in sudden understanding and nodded her head.

  “Thank you,” the tulpa said. She nodded again, and the sword Caliburn rose, and then fell, and the tulpa dissolved into smoke.

  “Now,” a voice whispered into her ear from across the eternities, “you are truly the Imago.”

  Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  The Reign of the Summer King

  It took some time for the companions to recover from their ordeal past the wall at the End of the World, and the events on Terminus, but
eventually they all healed, and soon preparations were made for the restoration of the Archipelago of Dreams.

  The Caretakers Emeriti insisted on a ceremony, with a lot of pomp and circumstance, and speeches, and of course, a massive feast. But when all the ceremony was done, in the end all that was left to do was for the last Dragon, Madoc, to open the Amethyst Box with the Master Key.

  It was as simple as it seemed. He inserted the key, and the lid of the box exploded with light, and color, and sound, and life. The torrent from the box filled the sky overhead in an ever-expanding curtain of strange and wonderful geometries.

  “Does that look familiar to you?” Edmund asked.

  “Yes,” said Rose. “It’s the tapestry the Archons were weaving in the sky, with light and color and all those impossible gestures they made.”

  “It seemed like the place I should be.”

  “This is better,” Charles said to them both. “You get to design everything about the Archipelago that the angels intended to create when they were planning it in the City of Jade—only there’s no impending flood to hurry things along.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Edmund and the badgers were put in charge of island placement, using Tummeler’s editions of the Imaginarium Geographica as a guide.

  “I have to say, this is the most unusual cartographical job I’ve ever undertaken,” said Edmund. “I’ve used many maps to find lost islands, but this is the first time I’ve ever used an atlas to tell me where the island should be returned to.”

  “That’s kind of how things work around here,” said Fred.

  “Here!” Uncas exclaimed excitedly. “I found what we was lookin’ for, Rose!”

  He turned the atlas around and pointed at a map of a very large, very green, and very undistinguished island.

  “This would work just dandy,” Uncas continued. “It has mountains, but not too many, beaches and harbors, nice trees, and a huge, honking cave that we can use t’ build a new Great Whatsit.”

  “If it’s so undistinguished, then why did Tummeler include it in the facsimile Geographicas?” asked Charles.

  Uncas shrugged. “We had to fill out a printing signature,” he said matter-of-factly, “and it was either a map of this boring ol’ place, or another muffin recipe. And we had four in there already.”

  Charles slapped his forehead. “I should have known,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “It looks perfect, Uncas,” Edmund said. “Absolutely perfect.”

  “What is it you’re doing, Rose?” Charles asked.

  “I’m going to summon the Corinthian Giants,” she answered. “We’re going to use this island to create a place that we should have never lost, and give it a name that makes certain we always remember.

  “We’re going to build New Paralon.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The new Cartographer of Lost Places declined to keep the rooms he had been given in Tamerlane House in favor of something that felt more fitting for his calling. Once he had moved all his maps, charts, and equipment to his new workplace, Rose and Madoc took the Indigo Dragon, newly restored by the shipbuilder Argus, out to go visit him and give it their blessing.

  “It seemed like the place I should be,” said Edmund. “Once the Caretakers explained to me fully who the Cartographer of Lost Places really was, and how significant he was to everything that happened in the Archipelago, I thought that there would be no better place for me to work than here, in his old quarters.”

  Rose looked around the room and realized that it was smaller than the space he had used at Tamerlane, but somehow, this was more fitting. The second-to-the-last room at the top of the Keep of Time had housed a Cartographer for a very, very long time—and it seemed fitting that it did so again.

  “But,” said Rose, “without the lock on the door.”

  “Never with a lock,” Madoc said, shaking his head. “Never again.”

  “We’re building a small cottage on one of the other islands,” Edmund said. “This room is the only one that’s in the present, and I need to have someplace to retreat to from time to time.”

  “ ‘We’?” asked Madoc.

  Edmund blushed and smiled. “I’ve asked Laura Glue to marry me,” he said, slightly embarrassed, “and she said yes.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Rose said, rushing over to hug the young Cartographer. “The first wedding in the New Archipelago.”

  “Thanks,” said Edmund, “but it’s the same Archipelago, isn’t it? We just brought everything back.”

  “No,” Madoc said firmly. “It’s not the same. It’s better—because wiser people are making better choices about it this time around, and,” he added, putting his arm around Rose, “I hope that this time, I will be one of them.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Back in her quarters at Tamerlane House, Rose flopped down on her bed, exhausted, and realized there was a parcel sitting on one of her desks. Wearily, she got back up and turned on a light. What she saw made her gasp.

  It was the Ruby Armor of T’ai Shan.

  There was also a note, addressed to her, but unsigned—although she knew without any doubt whom it was from. She carried the parcel back over to her bed and opened up the note, which was written on the now familiar cream-colored paper. It read:

  My dear Rose,

  This armor belongs to you now. I have no further use for it, but you may still do some good in the world. I hope that I have as well, though I cannot be sure. I tried to help when I could, and I hope it was enough. I know that there are still many questions, and I’m afraid you’ll have to answer them on your own. That is part of the path of the Imago. But I know you, Rose, and I believe in you. And if anyone ever questions you, if they question your motives, or your choices, you can point to me as an example. I had every reason to fall into shadow, but when I had the opportunity to choose, I chose the light. Not because of some noble cause, or for any great purpose, but because, when I was a child, and I was afraid, the Caretakers did not leave me behind.

  Small gestures can change the world. Never forget that, my dear Rose. And never forget me.

  Tears began to well up in Rose’s eyes again as she read and reread the note, and then her breath caught when she realized that there was someone in the room with her, sitting quietly in the shadows.

  “Telemachus?” she said. “Is that you?”

  Her silent visitor stood up, and she realized it wasn’t the boy prince—it was Poe.

  He walked to the door, beckoning for her to follow.

  The corridors and hallways were empty—all the Caretakers were keeping themselves busy with the restoration project, and so they were spending as little time as possible cooped up inside Tamerlane House. So Rose simply followed Poe as they walked silently to the uppermost minaret of the house.

  Poe walked to the balcony and pushed open the doors, letting in the sea air. Then, with no preamble, he began to speak.

  “The Archimago came first into the new world,” Poe began, “because that was the way of things. Without darkness to penetrate, light would have no meaning. And so he came to make his way, and find his purpose. The Imago followed after, but the light was too much for the Archimago to bear. He was merely a Namer, whereas his younger sibling, the Imago, was a Maker.

  “He didn’t realize that there could be as much meaning in Naming as in Making, and in his jealousy, he . . .” Poe stopped, his voice trailing off into silence.

  “From the moment I raised my hand and struck him,” Poe said, still not turning from the balcony, “and he fell to the ground . . . there was sorrow. And regret. I—I need you to know that.

  “He was meant to be the Imago. The protector of the world, and I took that from him. I didn’t understand what I had done, until it was too late.”

  He dropped a small ring to the floor, and it dissolved in smoke and ash. “A Binding,” he said, “of my own devising. I could not bear to speak of it, and so I made certain I never could—not until he was truly freed, and the damage I
caused was undone. It was the best I could do to live here, in Kairos time, and try to restore that which I had destroyed, and to help those who cared for the Archipelago to try to find another Imago to take his place.”

  At that he turned to look at her. “I am grateful that we have. I am grateful to you, Rose Dyson.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say,” she answered truthfully. “I’m not even certain what I should call you.”

  “I have gone by many names, and lived many lives, over these thousands of years,” said Poe, “and the one that suited me best was the one given to me by my father—Cain. But the one that I think I shall return to is the one my mother called me—Chronos. I think it suits me better now, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” said Rose. “I do.”

  He didn’t say anything after that, but merely turned to look out over the sea, so after a few moments, Rose turned and left, closing the door behind her.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As the restoration of the Archipelago continued apace, a meeting was called among the Caretakers to address something being asked by the reemerging peoples of the lands: Who would rule?

  “I think ‘govern’ is a better word,” Madoc said as he and the Prime Caretaker made their way to the great hall. “Ruling is an anachronism, I think.”

  “That’s just modesty talking,” said John.

  “Not modesty,” said Madoc. “Caution. It was my ambition to rule the Archipelago that created most of the problems to begin with, remember?”

  “And it was your eventual wisdom that resolved them,” John said. “You mustn’t forget that, either.”

  “I wasted my youth.” Madoc sighed. “I could have done so much better, for so many around me.”

  “You were a good boy, who never had the opportunity to become a good man,” said John.

  Madoc shook his head. “I had opportunities—I just allowed the bitterness to dominate my choices. That, and deciding to listen to John Dee instead of . . .” He sighed again heavily. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life—and it has been a very long life.”