On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness

by Andrew Peterson

  The main hall was littered with bones and garbage. The stench would have made a human sick, but to Gnorm it smelled like dinner. Fangs lounged here and there, sleeping on the floor or leaning against the walls. Trolls huddled over a dice game in the corner; some of them looked up when Gnorm entered, then turned back to their business.

  Gnorm looked around for a moment, smiling. Always good to be back in the thick of it, he thought. He lumbered down the center of the hall to the Fang sentries posted outside the throne room.

  “Greetingsss, Commander Gnorm,” one of the Fangs said, lifting his spear so that he could pass.

  “Bleah,” replied Gnorm, and he entered the throne room of the most powerful Fang in all of Skree.

  Unlike the main hall, the throne room was empty but for General Khrak and a Fang servant who was filling his goblet with black sludge. Gnorm bowed so low his scaly gut almost touched the floor, and for a long time, he waited. He knew that many commanders had lost their heads by rising without permission. Finally, he heard the general grunt and Gnorm rose from his bow with a great deal of difficulty.

  “Gnorm,” Khrak said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. He sipped from his goblet. The ceiling was high and a pale light streamed in through narrow windows. The room was bare of furniture but for the gilded throne, now covered with filth. The general was one of Gnag the Nameless’s oldest servants. It was Khrak who led the army that destroyed Anniera, and Khrak who had sailed the Fang horde across the Dark Sea to Skree. It was Khrak whose orders sent the Black Carriage roving across the land to kidnap Skreean children, and he whom even the Fangs feared.

  His torso and abdomen were long and lithe, and though his arms and legs were shorter and thinner than those of most Fangs, no other was a match for Khrak’s prowess. His teeth were longer and sharper than Gnorm’s, and it was said that his venom could kill a sea dragon.

  “What newsss do you bring from Glipwood?” the general asked.

  “No news, lord. A scuffle on the day the sea dragonsss came, but it was quickly resolved.” Gnorm absently scratched his belly. Usually the meetings with General Khrak were short, and he was hungry for some of Dugtown’s famous fish entrails at a tavern called The Gargle and Slurp. The city of Dugtown crouched on the north bank of the River Blapp and was Torrboro’s grubby neighbor, a maze of decrepit buildings crawling with thieves and beggars. Gnorm hated having to travel so far for such a short conversation, but at least he was able to slink over to Dugtown for a few days.

  “Come nearer, Commander Gnorm. I have newsss from the Castle Throg.”

  Gnorm moved closer, hoping the general wouldn’t take too much time. He pictured in his mind the gloriously filthy lower streets of Dugtown, where he would soon be gobbling little squirmies over a game of dice.

  “The Namelesss has sent word,” said Khrak, savoring the news, “that he is mussstering another army. He says it will be a greater army than any Aerwiar has ever known.” Khrak paused and let the announcement hang in the air.

  “And what does our lord plan to do with this great army, sir?”

  “The Namelesss One has kept his purposes hidden from me, but I believe he plans to march west into the unknown lands. As you know, he still seeks the Jewels of Anniera. He no longer believes them to be in Skree, but beyond it, beyond the edges of all the mapsss.”

  “Sir, why does the Nameless One seek these jewels?” Gnorm bowed slightly. “If I am permitted to ask, sir.”

  The general’s tail curled up and around the armrest of the throne. He toyed with the end of it while he spoke. A fat yellow centipede squirmed from the sludge in a desperate attempt to escape the goblet, but Khrak’s tongue whipped out and snapped the creature into his mouth. The Fang closed his eyes and swallowed carefully.

  “When we sacked…Anniera”—he said the word as if it tasted vile in his mouth—“many writings of King Wingfeather were found. In them, he spoke of the Jewels of Anniera and the ancient power they hold, a power that could destroy the Namelesss One and restore Anniera to its glory.”

  Gnorm had figured as much. For years Gnag had been consumed with finding the jewels, though Gnorm had often wondered how they would ever locate something that could be hidden so easily. Besides, what power could possibly overcome the mighty Gnag and his army?

  “He believes the jewelsss are hidden…beyond the maps?” Gnorm asked, though he was quickly losing interest. Every moment he spent there was a moment he wasn’t spending in the Gargle and Slurp, dining on chorkney brains.

  “He has sssought them in Skree all these years,” said Khrak, “and he grows impatient. The Skreeans have no knowledge of what lies west of the plains, but if there are peoples there to conquer, I’m sure he means to do it. It is not our job to know what our master’s great mind intends,” he said with a wave of his hand. Khrak leaned forward. “But he does require something of you, Commander Gnorm.”

  “Anything, my lord,” replied Gnorm with a slight bow. He could taste the rat tails, feel them slipping deliciously down his throat.

  “The Nameless One needs more prisoners sent to Dang. I’m ordering the commanders of all the sectors of Skree to double their arrests. Not just the children anymore, but whole families. We will fill the Black Carriage with Skreeans and send them by the shipload to our lord Gnag Who Has No Name.” Khrak took another long sip of sludge and smiled. “I trust you will find this enjoyable?”

  “Oh, yes, lord. Very enjoyable.” Gnorm smirked, thinking of which Glipfolk he would seize first. Then he thought again of the taverns of Dugtown, and asked, “Will that be all, General?”

  Khrak caressed his tail and glared at Gnorm.

  “Yesss, commander. Go.”

  Gnorm again bowed low, and as he did, a gold medallion on a silver chain slipped from where he had tucked it into his breastplate. The necklace glinted in the light and dangled from his neck alluringly.

  “Wait,” the general said, slithering out of the throne and down the steps.

  The click of his claws on the marble floor echoed throughout the chamber. “And where did you acquire this trinket?”

  Gnorm felt clammy sweat seep from between his scales. He dared not move.

  “From one of the townspeople, lord. A woman. It is yoursss, if you please,” he stammered.

  The general snatched the medallion from Gnorm’s neck with a hiss and snaked his way back onto the throne with a grunt of dismissal. He eyed the medallion with satisfaction.

  “I like the way it sparklesss,” the general said to himself as he slipped it on. “Now go.” Gnorm rose and exited the throne room. He stormed back through the hall where trolls and Fangs continued to lounge and heaved himself back into his carriage.

  “Take me to Dugtown,” he growled. “Now!”

  The driver scurried onto the carriage and drove the disgruntled commander down the cobbled streets to the ferry to Dugtown, where he would feast on guts and drown his anger at losing his favorite bit of loot.

  26

  Trouble at the Bookstore

  The next morning, Podo was pleased to find more thwaps in the garden. He took such pleasure in overhearing Buzzard Willie complain about them at the tavern that Podo had begun looking forward to waking up every morning at sunrise to catch the little thieves at their business; part of his daily routine was sneaking into Buzzard Willie’s backyard, dumping sacks full of thwaps, and watching them scatter. To be fair, after setting the thwaps loose, Podo would sneak around to the front door and hand Willie a basket of vegetables, compliments of the flourishing Igiby garden.

  Janner, Tink, and Leeli did their morning chores and studied their T.H.A.G.S. Tink was excited that the two art books he’d borrowed from Oskar were helpful and overflowing with beautiful pictures. Leeli spent her time memorizing the words and melodies to several old tunes that Nia knew from childhood. But Janner sat on the front steps with his journal in his lap, staring out past the trees. Nia had asked him to write a book report on In the Age of the Kindly Flabbits, but try as he might, J
anner couldn’t make it past the first few words without thinking about Oskar’s map.

  Oskar N. Reteep was quite a different man than Janner had thought, hiding secret maps and hoarding weapons in a haunted manor. Janner shook his head and smiled wryly, thinking about all the jewels his mother had kept secret. She wasn’t exactly who he thought she was, either. Do all grownups have something to hide?

  “Janner, are you almost finished?” Nia’s voice startled him. She stood behind him, frowning at the mostly blank page on his lap.

  Janner’s cheeks reddened. He’d been sitting there for most of the morning and had nothing to show for it. “I just have…too much crammed in my head to write about flabbits and the Jungles of Plontst,” he stammered. He stared at the ground, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to cry. He waited for a rebuke of some kind, but instead felt his mother squeeze his shoulder.

  “Then write about that. It’ll do you some good,” she said, turning to go. “And I promise not to read it.”

  He looked down at the quill in his hand and remembered the feel of the sword he had swung in the weapons chamber. It had felt good, like he was no longer a powerless boy in a boring town but someone whose life could mean something, like his father’s had. All the tears that had gathered in him just moments ago changed into words, and he began to scratch them into his journal.

  Janner filled pages in his journal for hours. By the time he finished relating the details of the last two days’ adventures—the head full of questions they had raised, and the heart full of emotions they had awoken—his hand ached and the ink bottle was almost dry.

  Nia called for a lunch of henmeat salad and roundbread, and Janner closed his journal with a feeling of lightness in his chest, as if he had been carrying a feed sack on his shoulders for two days and had just heaved it to the barn floor. But his mind still swirled.

  Tink appeared and tried to push toward the kitchen door, but Janner grabbed his elbow.

  “Henmeat and roundbread,” Tink said, patting his stomach. “What is it?”

  Janner lowered his voice. “We have to return that map.”

  Tink’s face grew serious and he hid his hands behind his back, thinking about how much he wanted to keep the fingers attached to them. “Do we have to? What if Mister Reteep finds out?”

  “He’ll find out soon enough, if he notices it missing, and I’m sure he’ll suspect we took it. I think our safest option is to try to slip it back when he’s not looking. Trust me. We’ll do it today when we go to the bookstore.”

  They gobbled down lunch and headed out, Leeli and Nugget in tow. Once again, Podo escorted them into town as far as Shaggy’s Tavern.

  “After I chew the bone with Shaggy for a spell, I’m heading home to tend to the garden. I’ll be back to get ye at sundown.” With a warning to be wary and to stick together, he sent them on, complaining loudly about his overwhelming thirst.

  Leeli hadn’t yet ventured into town since the Sea Dragon Festival, and she was anxious. But the sun was bright and the townspeople seemed their usual selves, so her spirits soon lightened and she took to humming while she limped along behind her brothers. They waved at the Blaggus boys who were pushing a wheelbarrow full of garden tools they had just acquired by spending the morning filling out a stack of Tool Use Forms.

  The Fangs were at their usual place in front of the jail, laughing wickedly with one another and sneering at the Glipfolk who passed.

  Janner was relieved to see no sign of either Slarb or Commander Gnorm.

  Zouzab sat on the roof of Books and Crannies with his legs crossed, juggling three stones and watching the children approach.

  “Hello, children,” he said in his quiet way. “Have you come to…return something?” Janner and Tink stole a glance at one another. Did Zouzab know that they’d taken the map? Janner told himself it was his guilty conscience. They waved at him, Janner trying to be as pleasant as he could with the strange little ridgerunner, though he always found it difficult. Zouzab’s eyes seemed to be studying him in a way that was familiar to Janner, though he couldn’t place why.

  “We’ve come to see if Leeli here can borrow a few books,” Janner said.

  “I’m sure that will be nice,” Zouzab replied pleasantly enough as he slunk backward, out of sight.

  Janner watched the ridgerunner vanish and remembered Nicholas, Ferinia Swapleton’s cat. It was usually seen lazing in the shade of the front stoop of the flower shop, licking its paws. But sometimes, when a butterfly bounced through the air in front of it, the cat would spring to its feet and watch the insect with a cold, careful intensity. Janner realized that when Zouzab watched him, he felt like the butterfly. He shuddered and hurried into the bookstore to find Oskar in his office hunkered over a huge volume at his desk.

  “The Igiby three! Come in, come in.” He spread his arms wide and waved them in. His expression turned to one of horror, however, when he saw Nugget padding along beside Leeli. “Oh! No dogs, lass. First thing you know, he’ll be gnawing on some old one-of-a-kind book of mine.” He shooed Nugget out the back door to Leeli’s disappointment. Noticing, Oskar’s expression softened, but only a little. “As the great animal trainer Yakev Brrz wrote, uh, let me see…how did that go…” Oskar closed his eyes with a finger in the air. “Ah! That’s it. ‘Like it or not, the dog stays outside.’ A wise fellow, Yakev was.”1

  Leeli motioned for Nugget to wait for her beside the loading door in the back, where the crates full of books had been.

  Oskar then escorted Leeli through the store to find the section on music.

  Janner and Tink wandered through the maze of shelves for half an hour before Tink found the loose panel just below the shelf labeled ITCHY RASH REMEDIES AND ANECDOTES. The snot-wax candle was still in its place.

  “Is he nearby?” Tink asked, looking up and down the aisle. Janner walked to the end, peeked around the corner and shook his head.

  Tink wiggled the panel loose, pulled the map from his sleeve and slipped it beneath the shelf. As he replaced the panel, they heard a quiet voice above them.

  “Drop something?” Zouzab said. He was perched on top of the high shelf above them, smiling.

  Janner and Tink tried to smile back. Tink told him that he’d seen a woodmouse scurrying about and was trying to catch it before it ruined any of Oskar’s books.

  “Oh, yes, I see woodmice in here all the time,” Zouzab said. “I just”—quick as a flash, Zouzab scurried down the shelf and pretended to snatch at something—“sneak up and grab them before they even know what’s happened.”

  Tink and Janner smiled uncomfortably, still not sure what to think of Zouzab Koit.

  Zouzab scurried back up the shelf and disappeared again.

  Janner elbowed Tink and nodded toward the entrance. For another fifteen minutes they took wrong turn after wrong turn, trying to find Leeli and Oskar.

  They eventually found Oskar, very pleased with himself, holding a stack of at least ten large volumes, all on the subject of the whistleharp.

  “Where’s Leeli?” Janner asked.

  “Eh?” Oskar said, peering down at them through his spectacles. “Oh! She went to check on that little dog of hers a while ago.”

  Janner’s heart skipped a beat. Their first time into town since the incident that nearly killed them, and already he didn’t know where she was. He told himself that he was overreacting, but the sick feeling in his stomach sent him running and calling her name, leaving Tink and Oskar standing there speechless.

  Janner darted to and fro through the maddening twists and turns of the narrow aisles, trying to find his way back to the office. He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop right in front of Oskar and Tink, who had not moved. He was back where he started.

  “I have to find Leeli!” Janner exploded.

  Oskar blinked, shocked at Janner’s tone of voice, but he dropped the books to the floor in a heap and shuffled forward, leading the way as fast as possible with Tink in the rear. Janner moved past him when h
e saw the office ahead and burst through the back door, praying that Leeli would be sitting there in the grass scratching Nugget’s belly.

  But she was nowhere to be seen.

  The area behind Books and Crannies was empty except for the stack of old crates piled there two days prior. Beside the crates lay Leeli’s new LIZARDKICKER crutch.

  Janner felt his insides quake. He couldn’t believe that already he had failed to protect his sister, and he had the sinking feeling that this time they wouldn’t get out of it unscathed. He was dimly aware of Tink yelling Leeli’s name as loudly as he could and Oskar shuffling around the corner of the building, calling for Leeli too.

  Janner dropped to his knees, on the verge of tears. He was cycling through feelings of anger towards Leeli for stepping outside alone, anger toward Oskar for leaving her for even a moment, and guilt for once again failing Podo, Nia, and most importantly, Leeli.

  Oskar came back around the corner. “She’s not here,” he said, worriedly adjusting his spectacles.

  Suddenly, Nugget appeared, favoring one leg and whining.

  “Nugget!” Tink cried, and he ran over to the little dog. “Where’s Leeli, boy? Leeli?” Nugget pointed his nose across the field behind Oskar’s shop and barked.

  “There,” said Zouzab from above them. He was standing on the roof again, pointing north toward a cluster of trees. “I can see something moving… there.”

  “Is it her?” Janner demanded, scrambling to his feet.

  “It appears to be a Fang…and…yes, it’s carrying something. I believe it’s her,” Zouzab finished, with a note of sadness in his voice.

  With a roar, Janner leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could for home. His only thought was that he had to find Podo because Podo would know what to do.

  Janner and Tink both screamed his name the whole way up the lane to the cottage, and Podo, who had been hoeing in the garden, dropped his hoe and ran, stump and all, to meet them.

  “WHERE’S MY GRANDDAUGHTER?” he bellowed.

  Between breaths, Janner told him what happened, and in the middle of the story he started crying. He felt stupid for it, but he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.