Here, There Be Dragons

home. Now it seemed as if England were in the dream world to which they might travel, if only they believed in it enough. And while they still believed in England, and London, and Oxford, and all the rest in the world of men, they had come to know that there was another world that was just as real. And they were no longer certain they wanted to leave.

“We’ve got a limited crew this time through,” said Charles. “Namely, us. Will the White Dragon have any trouble navigating the storm line?”

“It’s meant to keep people out, not in,” said Bert. “You’ll find it’s a much easier passage going east than west.”

John didn’t say what he was thinking—that he was already anticipating having to push through the storms again, going in the opposite direction. That he wanted to return to the Archipelago, and soon.

…twinkling in friendly greeting, the lights of London began to appear.

“Here’s something I never expected I’d be saying out loud,” said Jack, “but does anyone else find it comforting that there are at least three dragons shadowing us from above?”

High in the atmosphere, a greenish dragon and two smaller amber ones were diving and soaring in and among the clouds of the storm line, dipping their wings in greeting as they noticed that the companions were watching.

“The mariners had it wrong,” said Charles. “‘Here, There Be Dragons’ wasn’t a caution. It was a reassurance.”

“I think that would depend on your relationship with the dragons,” said John. “Remember—when we met, Samaranth’s other option was to eat us.”

As the White Dragon passed through the storm line and into more traditional waters, the dragons wheeled away and vanished into the ether.

In the distance, they could just make out the silhouette of Avalon, soft and verdant in the light of dusk.

“What do you say, lads?” asked Bert. “Want to stop off and pay your respects to the Morgaine?”

“Depends on the day, doesn’t it?” said Jack. “Tuesday we can manage, but I’d rather not catch Cul in a fouler mood.”

“Good call, Jack,” said Bert. “Next time, then.”
The sunlight faded quickly with the sudden smothering of clouds that marked the crossing of the last boundary. Soon, the familiar English fog had begun to coalesce around the ship, and then, twinkling in friendly greeting, the lights of London began to appear.
“Now I know we’re home!” exclaimed Charles. “Look at that water! It’s absolutely filthy! God bless the Thames!”
The companions’ happy laughter was cut short when the shrillness of an air-raid siren split the night air, shattering the stillness into pieces that fell with John’s smile. He looked to each of his friends, and then to Bert.
“We’re still at war,” John said, crestfallen. “We defeated the Winter King, but our world is still at war.”
“Well, of course it is,” Bert said, chiding. “The conflict in the Archipelago is not over either, for that matter.”
John furrowed his brow. “But we won. Artus is the new High King. We restored order in the Archipelago, and Jack freed the Shadow-Born.”
“Did we now?” said Bert. “Yes, we found the heir and reestablished the continuity of rule in the Archipelago. But just because a man sits on a throne doesn’t mean automatic fealty.”
“He has a point,” Charles put in. “There’s still the Troll Prince, Arawn, to deal with—and the Four Kingdoms have to come to grips with having a new king on the Silver Throne. Artus has quite a row to hoe.”
“Does that mean we’re going to remain at war until Artus has things in hand in the Archipelago?” said John.
“You misunderstand,” said Bert. “It isn’t like pulling a lever—as the conflict in one world is mirrored in the other, so is the peace and harmony we helped to set in motion in the Archipelago going to be reflected in this world. But the events that have occurred here must still take their course. There is the matter of free will to consider. We have removed the catalyst, true—but the world of men must still work to repair the damage that has been done, and then, ultimately, must choose peace.”
“I think I understand,” said John. “I suppose that somehow I was hoping for a more magical instant solution. Like ‘drink me’ and ‘eat me’ in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
“Now, John,” Bert chided. “That’s just a story. We should stay focused on the real world, don’t you think?”

The journey ended exactly where it began, at the dock in London where they had fled from the pursuing Wendigo. It had only been days, but it already seemed a lifetime ago—and in a sense, it had been.
“I have to let my wife know I’m all right, then I’m back to Staffordshire, I expect,” said John. “And then probably back to France, as I’m still enlisted for the duration. I just hope my absence hasn’t been long enough for them to notice and declare me missing—I’ll never be able to explain where I’ve been!”
“I’m overdue myself,” said Charles, “although I expect that the Oxford dons might be more forgiving than the military.”
“I still think I’ll be joining up before I start my term at Oxford,” said Jack. “After all, the war should be over soon anyway, right?”
“We can hope, young Jack,” said Bert. He turned to John. “I’ll check in now and again, to see how you’re coming along. I must admit, it’s a nice thought to realize that I can actually retire, knowing that the Geographica will be in good hands. Now I must go—I have to return the White Dragon to Ordo Maas, and then attend to the repair of the Indigo Dragon, bless her timbers.”
He bowed his head, chewing his lower lip, before continuing to speak. “There is one last detail to which we must attend,” Bert said, his voice trembling with emotion. “It has been tradition, these many centuries, for the Caretakers to add their names to those who came before. I would be honored if the three of you would do so now.”
“The three of us?” said Jack. “But John is the Caretaker.”
“The Caretaker Principia,” Bert corrected, “but there have always been three. The purpose of the other two Caretakers is to help the Caretaker Principia fulfill his responsibilities—and I daresay that’s what the both of you have been doing these long days.”
“Not to seem ungrateful,” said Charles, “but with Tummeler about to start a publishing empire based on the twin pillars of cookbooks and atlases—namely, the Geographica—what is the point of having Caretakers? Why take care of a book that everyone in the Archipelago will now have access to?”
“Remember what John told the Cartographer?” said Bert. “It’s about more than safeguarding a mere book—it’s a far greater responsibility than that. You are the Caretakers of the lands within it. The Caretakers of the Imagination of the World. And you’ve proven yourselves more than worthy, and more than able.”
Jack and Charles looked at each other, then at John, who tilted his head and smiled. “Why not? Who else can we tell about all these adventures we’ve had, if not each other?”