“What’s that one, there?” asked Charles, pointing. “The line that looks like Orion’s Belt?” “It’s Orion’s Belt,” said Artus. “Ah,” said Charles. “What is that one?” asked John, pointing to the west. “The bright grouping, shaped rather like a tree?” “Astraeus,” Aven called out. “God of the four winds and friend to sailors. Say a little prayer when you look at him, so he will give us what we need to keep our course.” “A little prayer?” said Jack. “To a constellation?” “To what it represents,” said Aven. “But I don’t believe in what it represents,” said Jack. “Prayers aren’t for the deity,” said Aven. “They’re for you, to recommit yourself to what you believe.” “Can’t you do that without praying to a dead Greek god?” “Sure,” said Aven. “But how often would anyone do that, if not in prayer?” The companions slept in shifts throughout the remainder of the night: John, Artus, and Bert first, then Aven, Jack, and Charles, with Bert assuming control of the wheel. Aven awoke just as the sun was cresting into view, a wheel shooting great spokes of radiance across the sky. The light was brilliant, and the sky at the horizon a startling robin’s egg blue, which paled farther up into the sky along the sun’s eventual arc. But to the west, directly in their path, was the darkness they’d earlier assumed to be a line of storms; a sister Frontier to the one that guarded the boundary at Avalon. But they weren’t storms at all—it was simply, purely, darkness. Darkness… …or Shadow. They heard the sound first, before the island came into view, and John was very grateful for the Cartographer’s precise navigational instructions, for if they had approached the island at an angle just a few degrees less or more, the White Dragon would not have been able to resist the pull. The sound was a roar as big as the world; it was the sound of a waterfall as wide as an ocean, falling into an endless void as deep as Hades itself. The Island at the Edge of the World was larger than Avalon and Byblos together. It was a flat, rocky plain, which rose to a scattering of hills in the center, then sloped up westward to a peak that extended beyond the edge, over the waterfall. John shuddered with the realization of what must lay beyond. There were no stars, and the light from the rising sun seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness. The island truly was an Ending of Endings, and somehow he knew that the confrontation with the Winter King would end here. One way or the other, it would end. Aven guided the White Dragon through a wicked-looking reef to a spot on the southern shore where she could be safely anchored. They could see the entire shoreline in both directions—to the east, from which they’d just arrived, and west to the edge. There were no other vessels in sight, and most importantly, no sign of the Black Dragon. The companions disembarked so they could begin to explore the island, and they quickly determined that it was a singularly unremarkable place. “Well, except for that waterfall,” said Charles. “It’s sort of like that place in America, where that big canyon is—somewhere you wouldn’t really go to, except to see a great big hole that will be your death if you fall in.” There were no structures of any kind, save for the occasional standing stones that were set pell-mell across the fields and at the top of the bluff on the western side. “So what do we do now?” said Jack. “Do we just camp out and wait for the Winter King to arrive, or what?” “We should finish scouting the rest of the island,” said Aven. “We have a good lead on him—we should endeavor to make the most of it.” “Sensible,” said Bert. With Aven leading, they crossed the first low valley and headed for the hills in the center. It was, except for the bluff and peak itself, the highest point on the island, and would be an excellent vantage point from which to organize their efforts. The darkness beyond gave the landscape an unearthly glow, with the sunlight highlighting the muted colors of the rocks and grasses. Everything stood out in high relief—which made the sight beyond the hills more unreal than they could have imagined. They’d been correct about the view: From the center, they could see the entire expanse of the island, including the north side that had been hidden from sight on their seaward approach. All along the northern edge of the island were encampments; glowing fires, and the bustle and clatter of warriors preparing for combat. They could see trolls by the thousand, and more Wendigo than they could have imagined existed. And all throughout the encampment rose the black banner of the Winter King. Even John, who had seen combat, and the most terrible battlefields of war, was struck speechless by the implied violence and destructive force spread before them. “No wonder we could never find him,” Aven whispered. “In all these years, he always evaded his pursuers, and simply moved from land to land, conquering them, then returning to a place we could never discover. He found the best hiding place in existence—the actual ends of the Earth.” “He didn’t need to beat us here,” Bert said. “The Winter King’s army has been here all along.” “I think we’re in trouble,” said Charles. “That’s the understatement of the year,” said Jack. “We’re in for a difficult battle, that’s for certain.” Aven stared ahead at the hundreds of glowing fires. “There must be thousands of them,” she said. “This is not going to be a battle—it’s going to be a slaughter. Our slaughter.” “I don’t think I want to be king anymore,” said Artus. “I nominate Jack.” “Aw, don’t give up hope,” said Tummeler. “This is the part in stories where they gets real good—valiant friends in a struggle ’gainst impossible odds.” The companions heard what the badger said, but it took a few seconds to process that he was standing on the rise next to them, since they had left Tummeler on Paralon. “Tummeler?” Charles said, incredulous. “Is it really you?” “Su’prise,” said Tummeler. I brung…brang…bringed…I’m with th’ cavalry. We’ve come t’ save th’ day.” After a round of excited hugs and greetings, Tummeler explained to the companions what else was transpiring in the Archipelago, and for the first time, they felt a glimmering of hope. “It were ol’ Ordo Maas,” said Tummeler. “He said y’ would be needin’ some help, an’ he sent out his sons to all the corners of the Archipelago. One of them watched the White Dragon, t’ see where y’ be going, and the others went t’ alert all your friends—and you have more than y’ be knowing y’ do.” “His sons?” Jack said in surprise. “How could they go to find allies? We took the only ship on Byblos.” In answer, Tummeler pointed to the sky. Circling above the White Dragon was a scarlet and silver crane, which dipped its wings in greeting. “I was with Mister Samaranth when the crane come in, an’ I hitched a ride back on one o’ th’ ships. And I came ready to fight,” said Tummeler, proudly showing off his battered knapsack and an equally battered shield that was larger than he was, and that he could lift only with considerable effort. “After all,” he finished, “I don’t want to be missin’ any o’ th’ fun.” “Is Samaranth coming?” asked Bert. “Will he be joining the battle?” Tummeler shrugged. “Can’t say if he will. I know he left Paralon when we did, an’ said he was going to find some others t’ help, but what that means I can’t say.” “How did you get here, then?” said Charles, “if not with Samaranth?” “I brought him,” said a voice of command, “and while he’s skilled with maintenance of the ship, it’s his
