Rivers of Fire (Atherton, Book 2)

by Patrick Carman

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  Isabel's smaller build allowed her to move quickly, and soon she was standing next to Samuel in the dark, where they faced each other in the small space. They were uncomfortably close.

  "This is the end," Samuel said in a quiet voice Isabel could barely hear. "Follow me and don't make a sound." The two stood silent for another moment as Samuel listened for the echo of footsteps overhead.

  Then Isabel heard a grating sound as crumbs of dirt filled the air. Samuel held a square stepping stone from within the House of Power. He pushed it aside carefully, put his hands over the ledge, and pulled himself up with great effort.

  The top of Samuel's head poked out into the courtyard of the House of Power and he scanned the area. There were dots of light here and there where torches had been left glowing.

  "Are you sure this is a good idea?" whispered Isabel. The moment of entering the House of Power, where Lord Phineus ruled, had come. Isabel had always enjoyed a sense of bravado in the shelter of the grove, but this was different. She wasn't sure she wanted to get so close to something that felt of darkness and evil.

  "Take my feet and push me up," said Samuel. He was holding steady above her, but in past adventures of his own he'd only gone down the drain, not up it, then he'd snuck back into the House of Power through the gate.

  Isabel hesitated. She was farther away from home than she'd ever been, doing something that could get her into real trouble. What was she doing with this boy from the Highlands?

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  "We've got to go now, Isabel--I mean right now."

  Isabel took Samuel's feet in her hands without thought or emotion, almost as if someone else was doing it and she was only watching it happen, and pushed until Samuel was halfway out and only his legs and rear end dangled wildly at the top of the hole. A moment later he had scurried out entirely.

  Just then something happened that made Isabel think she'd done the wrong thing. Samuel looked down at her for a split second with panic in his eyes, and then he placed the square stone back over the hole. Isabel was all alone in the darkness of the drain.

  ***

  Sir Emerik was sure he'd heard something. There had been a lot on his mind and he hadn't slept but a few hours before waking in the middle of the night, and yet he felt certain he wasn't imagining the noise. It had sounded like a piece of stone falling into a slot from a corner of the courtyard. What could it be at such a late hour but the sound of someone sneaking around?

  He stood calm and unmoving, listening for the sound to repeat. Though it didn't come again, Sir Emerik was a highly suspicious sort of man, and once his senses were alerted it was hard for him to turn them off. Something's not right. I must go and see for myself.

  As he moved ever so quietly along the winding path of the courtyard, Sir Emerik pondered his own grim circumstances.

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  His home, the Highlands, had come crashing down and now sat even with Tabletop. Control over the House of Power, which sat alone at the center of the Highlands, seemed precarious. It was at once a time of great danger and a moment of opportunity. But first he would have to deal with Lord Phineus. And there was also the boy Samuel, who had escaped unexpectedly from his grasp. Samuel might cause me trouble. He knows far too much.

  He would need a torch in order to search the courtyard properly, and this was a bit of a problem for Sir Emerik. He touched the scabs on his head and his eye began to twitch. Lately it happened involuntarily whenever he came within a few feet of a flame. He cursed the boy Edgar in his mind, remembering how Edgar had burned all the hair off his head. It was a memory he couldn't shake. Sir Emerik took the torch with a shaky hand, holding it as far away from his face as he could. The flickering firelight made all the colors in the courtyard turn a bleary shade of orange.

  Before long, he was standing near the stone that Samuel had moved to enter the House of Power. Isabel could hear him standing directly overhead on the stone. She had a terrible thought that whoever it was might break through and fall on top of her. Or maybe the person standing above her knew of the old hidden drain cover and was getting ready to slide it off. She kept very still, barely breathing as she waited for the person to leave.

  From his hiding place, Samuel could see Sir Emerik as his

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  boots clicked back and forth on the floor of the courtyard. The landscape within the courtyard was full with deep green rows of hedges and bushes trimmed into curious shapes, and it was easy for a small person like Samuel to encase himself within the grasp of branches or vines, completely hidden from view. Samuel's anxiety rose as he watched Sir Emerik pause as if he'd found something. He had heard one stone sound different than the rest, as if it were covering a hollow space.

  Sir Emerik lowered himself to the ground, carefully whipping his red robe behind him, and then with one hand he ran his fingers around the edge of the stone, feeling for a way to remove it. As he looked at the dancing flames of the torch in his other hand, his eye twitched, moving him to set the torch down next to him where it burned dimly on the cold floor.

  Samuel didn't know what to do when Sir Emerik took hold of the square stone by its corners. It crossed his mind to bolt from within the hedge and run through the courtyard to distract Sir Emerik, but he couldn't risk anyone knowing of his presence in the House of Power. This thought froze him where he hid until Sir Emerik had removed the stone and was peering down into the drain.

  Sir Emerik held the torch down into the hole, but he didn't see anything, at least not anything he didn't expect to see. He sniffed the air and touched the dirt with his hands, then pushed the stone back where it had been. This time he noticed small dirty fingerprints on the square slab. Sir Emerik looked up, suddenly sure. Samuel has returned by this secret way. He must be found and gotten rid of.

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  Sir Emerik rose to his feet, waving the flame over the hedge as he searched the courtyard. "I know you're in here, Samuel," he said softly in a raspy voice. "You can't hide from me. You should know that by now." He remembered how he'd found Samuel only a few days before with a secret book, how the book had foretold the Highlands's descent into Tabletop, and how he'd captured the boy and locked him away in the House of Power. "Come out and we'll go to see your mother in the kitchen. She'll be very glad to see you."

  The idea of finding his mother seized Samuel and he nearly burst out of his hiding place. Samuel could hear and feel Sir Emerik getting closer. A few more seconds and he would be caught. He was ready to spring out of the hedge, to run into the twisting array of creeping plants. But just as Samuel was about to move there came another voice, much louder and meaner than Sir Emerik's.

  "Emerik!"

  The booming sound of Lord Phineus calling for Sir Emerik filled the air as he shouted from the window of the main chamber. Hidden in a part of the courtyard that lay beneath a thick canopy of vine-covered trellises, Sir Emerik was momentarily torn. Though he felt sure he was close to finding the concealed boy, he knew he should not keep his master waiting.

  "You can't hide from me for long, Samuel," said Sir Emerik. His eye twitched once more at the sight of the flaming torch in his hand. "You should come out now and save me the trouble of having to find you."

  "Emerik!"

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  The howling voice roared again, and this time Sir Emerik didn't hesitate. The anger was growing in the lord of the House of Power, and it would not do to keep him waiting a second longer than he had to. He took one more look at the hedge, cursed the boy who hid there, and moved off toward the main chamber.

  When Samuel felt sure he was alone, he crept out and removed the square slab of rock that covered the drain. He couldn't see very far down, so he whispered Isabel's name and waited. Nothing.

  The House of Power was stirring from the sound of Lord Phineus's voice, and soon people would be everywhere. Just when Samuel felt ready to jump into the hole and search for Isabel, he heard her moving around. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see her head po
king out from farther back in the drain where it curved and narrowed.

  "I am 50 ready to get out of here," said Isabel. Her face was smeared with dirt and dead leaves hung in her tangled black hair. Her dark, thick brows lay heavy over her eyes as she looked up at Samuel.

  "Better hurry," whispered Samuel, glancing between the drain and the courtyard. "We've almost missed our chance."

  Either Isabel was heavier than he'd expected or he was weaker than he'd hoped; regardless, it was a mighty struggle pulling Isabel out of the drain and into the courtyard. She slid back down more than once before she was finally able to get her elbows over the edge and hoist herself the rest of the way out.

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  Samuel quickly moved the stepping stone back over the passage and grabbed Isabel's hand. "He knows we're here," he said, pulling her along the vine-covered wall. "But he'll be gone awhile."

  "I hope he didn't send a guard to do his looking for him," said Isabel.

  "He wouldn't do that," said Samuel. "Sir Emerik wants me dead, and none of the guards would kill me if they found me. They'd take me straight to Lord Phineus, which is just what Sir Emerik is afraid of."

  Isabel started to ask him why Sir Emerik wanted him dead, but Samuel silenced her with a raised hand. Then he was running, waving to Isabel to follow. They swished past winding hedges, slithered under vines, and crawled beneath low, rounded walls until they reached the other side of the courtyard. Samuel heard the sound of boots on stone coming near and seized Isabel's hand once more, pulling her down into a sea of thick ivy that lay before a bone white wall dancing with shadows.

  When the guard had passed, they made their way up a set of darkened stairs to a narrow hall with a rail of grey stone that ran the length of one wall. At the very end of the hall was one of Samuel's favorite hiding places, an alcove buried in thick ivy. The ivy crept down the side of the wall like dark green water, filling the space as high as their heads with waves of tiny leaves. It felt to Isabel as if a thousand tiny green hands were pulling her inside as she crept forward into the alcove.

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  "I wish Edgar was here," said Isabel, feeling the itchy touch of leaves against her face.

  Samuel peered out from their hiding place, which had a commanding view of the whole courtyard and the guard towers at the gate. He was thinking of the place they would soon be going, to a set of stairs leading up to the main chamber, in which Mead's Head could be found.

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  *** CHAPTER 3 MYSTERIOUS COMPANIONS

  Edgar walked quietly along the unlit path that snaked between the houses of the village. The hour had turned very late but only a few from the grove had settled in for a fragment of much-needed sleep before dawn. Some were scattered through the trees trying their best to keep a watchful eye on the sprawling grove, a nearly impossible task since it offered a thousand points of entry. The rest were hastily making plans, fashioning weapons, or piecing together places to hide.

  Edgar did none of these things. He had said all that he'd been instructed to about how Tabletop had collapsed into the Flatlands. He'd told them about the approaching threat of the monsters known as Cleaners and the need to get ready by making spears and barricades, and now they were preoccupied with the preparations. It was time for him to go, for he was expected

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  elsewhere. Edgar slipped away unnoticed, taking great care not to be seen or followed. Soon he had made his way to an outer line of trees where no guards were posted.

  Edgar rubbed the bandaged nub where his pinky finger had once been and it stung sharply; then he made a fist with the hand and squeezed with the fingers he had left. It hurt, but not that much. His shoulder was still sore from the catastrophic fall he'd taken when he'd climbed down into the Flatlands, but it felt remarkably healed. His body wanted to climb if only a cliff could be found.

  After a time Edgar spotted a dim figure approaching cautiously from the direction of the Village of Rabbits. The person carried no light to speak of and would have been visible only to those looking for him.

  "Is that you, Vincent?" whispered Edgar. He was aware of the dryness of his throat when he spoke and of how thirsty he was. The advancing shape stopped short of the grove and Edgar heard the muffled sound of one man bumping into another in the night. It had looked like one man, but there were two, walking single file toward the line of trees.

  "It's me, Edgar," said Edgar, sure that he'd found his two friends once more.

  "It's just the boy," said Dr. Kincaid. "There's no need to panic."

  "I didn't panic," said Vincent, who stood in front and had stopped short. "You shouldn't follow so closely behind."

  "Come away from the clearing," said Edgar. "This is a good spot, as I'd hoped."

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  Soon the three were sitting beneath a tree whispering about their errands. Dr. Kincaid and Vincent, Edgar's two mysterious companions from the Flatlands, had gone in different directions as they'd approached the grove--each to warn one of the other two distant villages about the coming Cleaners--while Edgar stayed to inform those in the grove.

  "How did it go?" asked Dr. Kincaid, holding out a leather bag full of water. Edgar gratefully took it and eagerly began drinking. "Not too much, Edgar. It's all we have."

  Edgar returned the bag of water and watched as Dr. Kincaid took a small sip. He was surprisingly alert for such an old man at so late an hour. He'd walked all the way to the Village of Sheep and back again in the night, which would have been several hours on foot, and yet Dr. Kincaid seemed reasonably well rested.

  "They're not used to seeing me as someone with information they could use," said Edgar. "It takes awhile to convince people of certain things that are hard to believe."

  "Like monsters coming from the Flatlands into the grove?" asked Dr. Kincaid.

  Edgar nodded, stretching his arms up over his head and feeling the dull roar of pain in his shoulder. He had the peculiar feeling of being exhausted and full of energy at the same time. He had only managed a couple hours of rest in the village, but he felt oddly alive. Maybe it was all the food he'd eaten or the unexpected time of rest at Dr. Kincaid's home.

  "That man Wallace in the Village of Sheep is a good shepherd," said Dr. Kincaid. "They're lucky to have him, though it's

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  A hard to imagine they'll be able to stay in their village when the Cleaners find it."

  "And you were right about Maude," added Vincent. Edgarhad pointed Vincent in the direction of the inn and the strong-willed woman he would find there. "She was quick to take the lead in the Village of Rabbits."

  Dr. Kincaid handed Edgar a chunk of Cleaner from his bag. The outside of the meat had dried in the night, but it burst with squishy liquid once Edgar broke the surface with his teeth.

  "How long do you think it will take for the Cleaners to find this place?" asked Edgar. He had already gobbled up half the food and was wiping one of his hands in the dying grass at his feet.

  Vincent looked off toward his old home. "I think they'll go where there are more animals first." It was the beginning of a logical if not gruesome assessment from the man who'd spent years protecting Dr. Kincaid. "They'll go first to where they've always gone--near the Village of Rabbits and the Village of Sheep. They've grown used to finding lots of bones near the cliffs there. My guess is they'll follow their noses to those places first and only stumble into the grove by accident sometime after that."

  "That's good, I suppose." The faces of Briney and Maude in the Village of Rabbits came to Edgar's mind, and he felt terrible for being relieved that their village would likely be attacked before his own. "I mean, at least it will be good for the grove. They'll have a little more time."

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  "Did you tell them what I told you to say?" Dr. Kincaid asked Edgar.

  "I told them to make as many spears as they could and to build fortresses from stones if they could find them," said Edgar. "And I told them not to use wood, because the Cleaners would eat right through it, and that stone wa
s the only thing that would hold them back."

  "And?" said Vincent, eyebrows raised as if testing the boy.

  "And I told them not to try to hide up in the trees, because the Cleaners would knock the trees down. I also told them they could eat the Cleaners, if only they could kill them with the spears in the right way, and that the Cleaners were good to eat even though they were terrible to look at."

  "Very good!" cried Vincent. "You've done well. All we can do now is hope they heed our warning and prepare themselves. One dead Cleaner can feed a lot of people, and if they can protect themselves and fight well, who knows what might happen?"

  Edgar felt a growing sense of dread as Vincent tried to hide the truth. He knew that the Cleaners were huge, vicious creatures. Could the people of the village really survive if a thousand angry Cleaners found the grove?

  Dr. Kincaid could see the boy wanted to stay, to fight and protect the people of the place where he'd spent most of his life. "Your path leads out of the grove, Edgar," Dr. Kincaid reminded him. "To the House of Power."

  Maybe the House of Power really did hold the key to saving

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  Tabletop, and this gave Edgar hope. But he felt another pull to the House of Power: Isabel and Samuel. Edgar had a strong feeling that this was where both of them had gone. Friends can feel such things in times of peril, as if a long, thin string holds them carefully together, tugging at one another through the open space of a dangerous world.

  The three of them were about to leave when Edgar turned back and pulled a clump of green figs from one of the trees. The figs weren't ripe yet and they were still attached to the vine. Edgar had a chunk of the slimy Cleaner remaining in his other hand, which he'd been saving for this moment. He put the Cleaner into a small sack made of sheepskin which he'd taken from the village, then pushed the gathering of figs down into the squishy meat of the Cleaner in the sack.