The storm line past Avalon was more roiling clouds and ominous thunder than rain and wind, although there was enough fury in it to push the Indigo Dragon across the waves like a toy. The crew was experienced, and it was obvious they had traversed this passage before. They went about their duties as usual, occasionally checking to make sure none of their passengers had been flung overboard, and in a matter of minutes they were once more through to calmer waters.
On the formal crossing to the Archipelago, there was a different timbre in the atmosphere. They still appeared to be on open ocean, with no land in sight, but the gray morning light revealed a number of varying depths in the water below. Shallows, where there should be none.
“Is it a reef?” John asked. “Like those in Australia?”
“It doesn’t appear to be,” said Charles. “More like submerged islands.”
“These are the Drowned Lands, called by some the Lost Lands of the West,” said Bert. “You’ll not find them in the Imaginarium Geographica, for as old as it is, there are lands older still.”
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Aven said to Jack as he leaned over the railing to catch some of the spray in his hands. “Not here, anyway—not if you want to keep your hands.”
Jack quickly leaned back and looked at Bert, puzzled. “Look into the deeps,” said Bert. “You can still see the shapes of noble towers and cities that once adorned the islands here. Legend says that these islands were the proudest of the world once, when the lands of Man and those of the Archipelago were not divided as they are now.” “What happened to them?” asked Jack. “And what does that have to do with my putting my hands in the water?” “No one knows,” said Bert. “Some think they destroyed themselves by seeking too deeply into the mysteries of life itself. Some say they were destroyed by the gods for the same reason. One theory is that it was the fault of an inattentive angel who had been assigned by Heaven to watch the developing civilization. For all we know, it was simply a natural disaster. “Regardless, my boy,” Bert concluded, clapping Jack on the back, “it was not a gentle passing, nor one of good portents. And some say that when the lands were destroyed, not all of the inhabitants perished with them. Those drowned children of a great culture may still live in the murky deep, and they would be human no longer. Their hearts would be blackened, their limbs transformed to fins, their lungs gone to gills… …and their teeth, razor sharp.” Jack’s eyes widened, and Aven suppressed a grin as he moved squarely to the middle of the deck. Charles and John peered over the side, and in fact it did seem as if they could see the outlines of what may have been cities once, a long, long time ago. “Bert,” John said, overcome with a sudden clarity, “could this be…” He paused, biting his lip. “Is this Atlantis?” Bert took a breath before replying, his expression more wistful than remorseful. “It was, my boy. It was.” “Paralon is the seat of government here,” Bert began, in explanation of the Morgaine’s prophecy. “It has ever been so, since the reign of the first king to unite both worlds: the High King—Arthur Pendragon. “The descendants of his bloodline ruled justly and well for centuries, until the last king was murdered nearly two decades ago. Ever since, the leadership of the Archipelago has been in question. That’s one of the reasons you are needed now, John. A crisis is at hand—and the resolution will have repercussions both in this world and in your own.” “Why is it only now that I’m needed?” said John. “Surely Professor Sigurdsson could have done whatever was needed years ago, if the situation is as dire as you say.” “He could have, true,” said Bert, “save for two conditions that have never before been present. To start, this is not the first time a king has been killed. As in your world, it does happen—usually by a relative who aspires to ascend to the throne. But in this case, the rest of his family was murdered as well. There are no heirs.” “What’s the second point?” asked Charles. “You already know, after a fashion,” said Bert. “His minions tried to kill you last night. “What his true name is, no one knows. But in the Archipelago, he is known as the Winter King. “In the absence of a High King, a Parliament of minor kings and queens govern Paralon,” said Bert, “while a successor is determined. But with no apparent heir, it has been an ongoing debate—one that the Winter King is determined to end by eliminating all other challengers to the throne. “There are kings of other races who could assume the Silver Throne of Paralon—but tradition is not easily dismissed. The Winter King is human and is still subject to the ruling of the Parliament. What is occurring today is a Great Council—all the kings of all the races of the Archipelago are coming together with the Parliament to determine who should assume the throne.” “Well, then,” said Charles, “you ought to trust the Parliament. They’ve held him off this long—can’t they continue to do so, until a successor can be chosen?” “No,” said Bert. “They can’t wait any longer, because of that,” he said, pointing at the southern horizon. There was a black smudge against the water, below the cloud line. It was as if someone had taken a paintbrush to the landscape and obliterated some of the scenery. Jack said as much, and Bert nodded in agreement. “More true than you know, young Jack. “We call them the Shadowed Lands—the islands conquered by the Winter King. When he and his armies take them, they disappear from the cycle of life in the Archipelago—and then they disappear from the Geographica as well.” “If he’s in the process of erasing it,” said John, “then why is he willing to kill us for it?” “No one knows,” said Bert. “It is the greatest mystery of the Archipelago. But we do know that he is amassing power—power that would give him greater influence than any other king or ruler in this land, or,” he added, “in others.” “Do you mean…” Charles began. “The worlds are separate, but what happens in one affects the other,” said Bert. “Arthur knew this, and established a throne to rule them both. Do you think it coincidence that in the time the Silver Throne of Paralon has been empty, your world has erupted in war?” “Speaking of Paralon,” said Aven, “it’s about time our ‘Caretaker’ gave us some direction. The morning light is coming up, and while the Indigo Dragon can find the way, it’ll be easier to navigate if she can be given a few specifics.” 
