On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness

by Andrew Peterson

  Janner and Tink stood up to try and see what was the matter, but there was nothing to see but agitated spectators shuffling out of the way while someone pushed in from behind them. The Fang sentries growled and hissed their irritation at the disturbance. They were charged with keeping the people under control, and something unusual was happening. As much as they hated the Skreeans, they weren’t interested in doing any extra work on a hot day like this one.

  Then the rumor finally reached Janner’s ears. A portly woman to his far right gasped and said breathlessly to her portly husband that Armulyn the Bard had come unannounced and had been asked to sing by the honorable Mayor Blaggus of Glipwood.2

  Tink and Janner looked at one another in disbelief. Armulyn the Bard was there, in Glipwood? Could it be that the very man who claimed to have visited the Shining Isle of Anniera,3 the same Armulyn who wandered the captive lands and sang of the legends of Aerwiar,4 of great deeds and great loves, was even now in Glipwood in his regal garb upon his majestic horse?

  All thoughts of the handyball game vanished. The players were greatly relieved about this fact and stood up, moaning and stretching. Two burly men rolled an empty wagon to the center of the playing field. Mayor Blaggus mounted the makeshift platform with a grunt and it creaked beneath his weight (he had eaten a few too many sugarbutter pastries in his day). He wore dark leggings and a bright red shirt. A gaudy yellow feather sprouted out of his hat, and he curled his moustache self-importantly. Blaggus held his hands out to silence the audience, then he turned to address the Fangs.

  “With our all-wise and stunningly handsome and powerful and swift soldiers’ permission,” he said, bowing deeply so that his belly touched his knees, “we would like to hear a song or two from the bard Armulyn. We beseech your lordships this trite pleasure, for which we will give you our eternal thanks and servitude.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Tink muttered with a sideways glance at the Fangs, whose scaly smirks showed how much they were enjoying the mayor’s groveling. One of the Fangs nodded and let out a slithery growl that polluted the air like smoke.

  “We thank you, kind masters.” Mayor Blaggus cleared his throat. His tone changed abruptly to the regal, inflated voice he had used for many years before the Great War. “My dear friends and neighbors, an honor rarely bestowed has risen on us like a warm sun,” he announced. “Armulyn the Bard, tale-spinner of the imaginary Shining Isle of Anniera, has chanced to join us in Glipwood on this fine day. He has accepted my invitation to perform for us. Please welcome this son of Skree to Glipwood by the Sea. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Armulyn the Bard!”

  A bedraggled man stepped up to the wagon with a worn whistleharp5 under one arm. The smile on his leathery face reminded Janner of a mischief-minded little boy about to disobey. Armulyn winked at the crowd and bellowed, “Hello, dear Skreeans! Fangs are ugly!”

  The applause ceased abruptly, and the four Fangs standing at the edge of the crowd roared a chilling roar and rushed, hissing, toward the bard.

  7

  Barefoot and Beggarly

  Janner felt a sheen of cold sweat break over him like a fever. It took him a moment to realize what he’d just heard. Had Armulyn just insulted the Fangs? Amidst the waters of his shock was a splash of surprise that the beggarly man on the platform was in fact the famous storyteller. Was there some mistake? Surely Armulyn the Bard would at least be wearing shoes, he thought. And by the filthy, callused look of the man’s feet, Janner could see that he rode no horse but walked wherever he went. If not for the weatherworn whistleharp in his hands and the deep waters of his eyes, Janner would have believed the man was an impostor.

  The Fangs pushed Glipfolk aside and bounded toward the wagon, drawing their swords as they ran. Janner’s whole body tightened, and he tried to tear his eyes away from the moment when the Fangs reached Armulyn. Many in the crowd emerged from their shock in time to scream.

  But the bard merely stood on the wagon and smiled. As the Fangs neared, Armulyn strummed his whistleharp and raised his voice in song. The Fangs faltered, jerked to a stop, and crouched before Armulyn, trying in vain to cover their ears and wave their swords at him at the same time.

  “Sssilence!” one of them hissed.

  Armulyn stopped singing and raised his eyebrows at them, as if annoyed at the interruption.

  “Yes?”

  “Careful, bard,” the Fang spat. “It would be nothing for us to chop you into bits and gobble you in a broth.”

  Armulyn gazed at their sinister faces with that same reckless smile. “I doubt you’d like the taste of me. I’m wiry and ill fed.” The only sound was the rattle of leaves in the wind. “Will that be all?” the Bard said after a moment, lifting the whistleharp to play again.

  The Fangs stood frozen, but Janner thought he saw their black eyes shift sideways at the throng of people surrounding them on the green.

  “Enjoy your petty songs,” the lead Fang growled. He turned to the crowd. “And we will enjoy killing you all the moment Gnag the Namelesss decides he is finished with you. May that day come quickly.” The Fang’s tongue flitted out between his long narrow teeth, and his mouth curled upward in a grin. He clacked his teeth together and hissed at a little girl cowering at her parents’ feet as those surrounding her on the field looked down at the ground or closed their eyes. The Fang who had spoken spat on the grass and moved away, his three companions following with hisses of their own.

  The silence was broken by the strum of the whistleharp. The whiskery man raised his voice again in song, and there was no longer any doubt in Janner’s mind that he was indeed Armulyn the Bard. The people sat enthralled as he sang the Ballad of Lanric and Rube,1 and Janner and Tink found themselves pushing down tears as they listened to the tragic tale. After that he sang another for the rapt audience, then another, until the sun sank westward and the light grew golden, lengthening the shadows across the lawn.

  As if the bard somehow knew, he ended his final song just moments before the sound of a low horn tore through the dusking air. Armulyn smiled widely and the many listeners gasped with excitement.

  “The dragons,” Janner said, grabbing Tink by his shoulders. Tink smiled back at him with his sticky, purple cheeks.

  “Let’s go,” Tink said. “We have to find a good seat.”

  “Come on, Leeli!” Janner yelled, turning to go. People in the crowd were pulling one another to their feet and surging back toward the town. “Leeli?” Janner repeated, turning around when she didn’t answer.

  But Leeli was gone.

  Janner told himself to calm down. The same thing had happened earlier. She couldn’t have gone far. She had just been there on the lawn, rubbing Nugget’s belly, hadn’t she?

  “Leeli Igiby!” he called, turning in every direction. People were everywhere, jostling the boys as they moved past.

  “Out of the way, boy,” said an old man with a cane, holding his pants up to his chin as he pushed by. The Torrboro women’s wide dresses rustled past Janner and Tink, tugging them this way and that. Then a boisterous cluster of Dugtowners appeared like a wall before them. Janner found himself ducking under elbows and diving between legs, and twice he tripped over the Torrboro women’s flopping, pointy shoes.

  Tink was nowhere to be seen, but Janner knew he was near because of the shouts of surprise and the cursing coming from his left. Janner worried that the Fangs might be drawn to this new commotion, but to his relief the crowd finally thinned and he saw that the Fangs were gone.

  “That was almost fun,” Tink said, brushing himself off. Janner spun around and grabbed Tink by his collar.

  “There’s nothing fun about this, Tink. Do you realize that she could be hurt? She could have been snatched up by a Fang, or killed by one! We have to find her.” Janner glared at his brother. Was Tink really so foolish that he didn’t realize how bad their situation was? As worried as he was for Leeli, Janner was also thinking of his own skin. What would Podo do when he found out that Janner had failed in his duty
? How would he live with himself if something actually happened to his sister?

  Tink flung Janner’s hands from his shirt and backed away. He looked around Dunn’s Green at the remaining people folding up their blankets and gathering their belongings for the walk to the cliffs. It finally sunk in for Tink that their situation was dire, and he put his hands to his mouth, turning in all directions, to yell over and again, “Leeli!”

  Podo had taught them that if ever they were separated they were to meet at the last place they had all been together. Surely Leeli would be waiting for them innocently with Nugget in her lap once the rest of the throng had cleared.

  “She must be right around here, Tink. I know she was here with Nugget just a few minutes ago.” Janner scanned the lawn with a hand on his forehead.

  Tink didn’t answer. His eyebrows were scrunched together and he was wringing his hands, calling her name with a tremble in his voice.

  “She’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Janner said, trying to sound optimistic.

  Tink and Janner called for her until the crowd was nearly dispersed, but still she was nowhere to be seen. Janner asked the stragglers if they’d seen a little girl, but they answered only with irritated looks; they were far more concerned with sea dragons than these pesky little kids. Finally, Janner and Tink stood alone on the lawn in the fading light.

  Little Leeli Igiby was gone. The brothers looked at one another, unable to speak, unsure of what to do. Then a sound came faintly to their ears from the direction of the town—a sound that deepened their fear to terror and set them running as fast as they could run.

  A dog was barking, and someone, a little girl—Leeli!—was screaming.

  8

  Two Thrown Stones

  Faster, Janner!” Tink yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted toward town. Janner was huffing behind him, unable to keep up. As they passed the livery at the edge of town, Janner heard a deeper sound, below Leeli’s screams and Nugget’s growls: the dreadful, unmistakable hiss and snarl of a Fang.

  Janner looked from one side of the street to the other, desperate for some clue as to where the screams were coming from, but they seemed to be everywhere. Tink bolted down the main street, which was mostly deserted. The few adults who remained were hustling toward the cliffs, thinking only of the annual dance of the sea dragons. If they heard the screams and the growling at all, they showed no sign of it. Out of the corner of Tink’s eye, down a narrow alleyway between Ferinia’s Flower Shop and J. Bird’s Barbershop, he saw a Fang struggling with something. Tink skidded to a stop and Janner plowed into him, nearly knocking him down.

  There in the alley, in a cloud of dust, Nugget was darting back and forth between the Fang’s legs, evading the Fang’s furious efforts to stab him with a spear. Leeli screamed again, and without a second thought her brothers ran down the alley to save her, though they both knew there was nothing two young boys could do, pitted against a Fang of Dang.

  The narrow alley led around a corner to a small area between the back of Ferinia’s and her stables. Leeli was curled into a ball while a second Fang held her in place with the butt of his spear. One Fang watched with grim delight as the other struggled with the little black dog.

  Nugget was in a frenzy, pouncing in and out, snarling and snapping at the Fang.

  The Fang standing over Leeli was chuckling in a thin, papery voice, “What’s the matter, Slarb? Is the sssmelly little thing too much for you?”

  Slarb growled as he jabbed again at Nugget. The spear nicked Nugget in the leg and he yelped.

  Leeli screamed and the Fang jabbed at her with the butt of his spear just as her brothers burst around the corner, Tink in the lead. Leeli saw them and began kicking at the Fang with renewed vigor.

  Janner found himself on Slarb’s back, beating him with all his might around the neck and shoulders. It was the first time he had ever touched a Fang, and he was dimly surprised how cold the scaly skin was.

  Tink dove past the second Fang, grabbed Leeli’s arms, and tried to pull her away from it.

  Slarb, with Janner on his back, hissed and thrashed, his long, sharp fangs dripping with venom that burned at the touch.

  Nugget bit the lizard’s leg and wouldn’t let go.

  The other Fang seized Tink by his shirt collar and yanked him backward and to the ground, where he lay choking and clutching his throat.

  Leeli reached for her crutch, but the Fang snatched it away from her and crushed it into splinters. She saw bits of wood etched with purple flowers flying through the air.

  The Fang then strode over to Slarb and kicked Nugget hard in the belly, sending him flying through the air with a yelp. The little dog crashed into the wooden wall and landed in a motionless heap.

  Slarb hurled Janner over his shoulder and onto the ground. He bent over Janner’s neck with his scaly jaw wide open, baring his dripping fangs to bite. The second Fang drew his sword and raised it to strike Tink. Leeli was helpless but to close her eyes and pray.

  At that moment there was a dull thunk. Slarb’s black eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious on top of Janner. The second Fang had time to see that Slarb had been hit in the head with a fist-sized rock before he felt a stone smash into his own temple. He tottered for a moment then crumpled to the dirt.

  Tink lay there stunned. “Where did those rocks come from?” he asked between gasps for air. Leeli’s hands were folded tight and her eyes were still shut. She opened one of her eyes, amazed that the three of them were still alive.

  They heard Janner’s muffled voice from beneath the Fang, and Tink snapped out of his daze. After a few heaves, he pushed Slarb off and Janner scrambled away with a moan, wiping his neck where the Fang’s burning venom had dripped on it.

  Janner rushed over to Leeli and helped her up, inspecting her carefully. “Are you hurt?”

  Leeli trembled but shook her head, pushing her hair from her face. She hugged her brothers and smiled through stubborn tears. “Nugget!” she cried, and hobbled over to the little black heap.

  One of the Fangs groaned and stirred.

  “We should get out of here,” Janner said. “We don’t want to be here when these things wake up.”

  Leeli was crying, stroking Nugget’s face.

  “Leeli, we have to go,” Janner urged, pulling her away from the dog.

  Suddenly, Nugget yelped and leapt to his feet. Hackles raised, he bared his teeth and circled menacingly. But his fierceness melted when he saw Leeli, and he set to licking her face and wagging his tail as if nothing had happened.

  Leeli struggled to her feet and pointed at her ruined crutch. “I won’t be going anywhere with that.”

  “Here,” Janner said, sidling up beside her and pulling one of her arms around his neck. “It looks like you’re going to have to let us help you for once. Let’s go,” he said, and they hurried out of the alleyway, leaving it completely empty.

  Except, of course, for the two Fangs lying in the dirt, the two stones that knocked them unconscious, and the mysterious figure on the roof of J. Bird’s Barbershop watching the three Igiby children flee.

  9

  The Glipper Trail

  When they were back in the open street, two of the three children and Nugget felt a little better. Leeli was mostly happy that Nugget was fine, Tink was mostly glad that Leeli was fine, and Janner was mostly terrified because he was the oldest and had begun to think of the future. He knew Glipwood was a small town, and it would be only a matter of time—maybe hours, maybe just minutes—before the Fang called Slarb and his companion reported back to Commander Gnorm. Then terrible things would follow.

  “We have to go home.”

  “Aw, Janner!” Tink wailed, already on to the next adventure. “Can’t we see the dragons? Everyone’s there, and as soon as the moon rises—”

  “By the time the moon rises, you know what’s going to happen?” Janner said hotly. Leeli and Tink were silent as they made their way through Glipwood’s empty Main Street. Janner tried to calm himsel
f down. “What’s going to happen, other than the sea dragons dancing, is that those two Fangs will wake up. And once they do, every Fang in Glipwood will be looking for three kids and a little black dog. Oh, and the girl has a lame leg. Now tell me, do you think they’ll have a hard time finding us?” Janner finished, more irritated than when he began.

  “What do we do?” Leeli asked after a long pause.

  “Mama will be at the cliffs watching the dragons, but that will probably be the first place the Fangs would look for us. Podo always stays home on Dragon Day. So that’s where we’re going. Podo will know what to do.” Janner set his face for the lane that led to the cottage. “I hope he does.”

  “Here.” Tink wrapped Leeli’s other arm around his neck and picked up his pace.

  Nugget trotted along beside them very seriously, as if he too had realized it was a bad situation indeed.

  The light deepened as they hurried on, so when they were still an arrow’s shot away from the cottage, they already knew that their grandfather wasn’t home. No lantern burned in the window, no smoke lifted lazily out of the chimney. Janner stopped and Tink with him as they sat Leeli down on the grass, each bending over to catch their breath.

  “Where…do you…suppose he is?” Tink said between gulps of air.

  “Don’t know,” Janner said, pacing.

  “Maybe he went to see the dragons this year.” Tink was doubtful.

  “But he never goes to the cliffs on Dragon Day,” Leeli said, puzzled. “Why would he go this time?”

  “Well, why wouldn’t he be here at the cottage?” Tink asked. “I think we should look for him at the cliffs; then we might see the dragons after all—”

  A glare from Janner cut him off. Janner looked east in the direction of the sea. Maybe Tink was right. Maybe for some reason Podo had decided to watch the dragons this year. “Fine,” he said. “But we’re taking the Glipper Trail. We can’t risk the main road. There are probably Fangs everywhere. The Glipper Trail’s faster anyway.”