On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness

by Andrew Peterson

  He thought about Peet’s strange talons—he had never seen nor heard of anything like them. And if he had doubted before whether or not Peet was looking out for them, now he knew for sure, even if he’d been wrong about the stones in the alley. But why? Why had Peet chosen to watch over the Igiby children out of all the other people in Glipwood? Janner was even more bothered by his mother’s and grandfather’s strange treatment of the Sock Man. Why is Podo so angry with Peet?

  But more immediate fears pushed those thoughts from Janner’s mind. His whole family was in danger. Their home was ransacked, their barn burned, and they had just killed a company of Fangs. They had to come up with some plan for where to hide and where to live.

  With a pang of sadness it struck Janner that there was a very good chance that they’d have to leave Glipwood—possibly forever. How could they stay in light of all that had happened? Obviously Gnag the Nameless sought the jewels, wherever they were, and he thought the Igibys were hiding them.

  The adults huddled over Oskar’s desk and spoke in hushed tones.

  Leeli was in a corner sitting on an empty crate, staring at nothing in particular.

  Tink, however, was fidgeting, moving about like a shrub in the wind. His cheeks were flushed and he looked angry. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” he burst out. The adults looked at him with surprise.

  “Not now, son,” said Nia.

  “Why not?” Tink pressed. Janner, trying to save his fiery little brother from trouble, laid a hand on his arm. Tink jerked away. “Why not now? Why did Grandpa drive away the man who just saved our lives? I want to know where the jewels are and why Gnag the Nameless thinks we have them. What’s so special about those jewels anyway? And who is Artham P. Wingfeather, and why does Peet the Sock Man have his journals in his tree house?”

  “What?” Podo and Nia said at once.

  Oskar stared at Tink, wide-eyed.

  Tink’s head dropped and his eyes met Janner’s apologetically.

  Nia folded her arms and glared at Tink. “How do you know what’s in Peet’s tree house?”

  Tink didn’t look up or answer the question, so Janner spoke.

  “We followed Peet there today. We didn’t, uh, mean to, but…” Janner’s voice trailed off.

  “It was my fault,” Tink said quietly.

  “Lad,” Podo rumbled, “ye’d better be glad there are more pressing things afoot, or I’d tan your hide. What are you thinking, going off into the forest alone? Haven’t you ever heard of toothy cows? Of horned hounds and snapping diggles and cave blats? Right now, since you’ve shown that yer not responsible enough to be treated like a man, yer gonna keep quiet and let the elders in the room figure out what’s to be done. And that goes for the lot of ye,” he finished, looking disappointedly at the three of them.

  A loud banging on the back door of Oskar’s store made everyone jump.

  Oskar shrugged at Podo, who pressed a finger to his lips. Podo gripped Gnorm’s curved sword and eased over to the door.

  The banging came again, louder this time.

  Podo took a deep breath, hefted the sword, and wrenched open the door.

  38

  An Unpleasant Plan

  What do you mean, bringing this trouble down on us?”

  “You Igibys will be the ruin of us!”

  “What do you suppose will happen to this town now you’ve gone and killed a passel of Fangs?”

  A crowd of Glipfolk gathered at Oskar’s back door, and no one looked happy. Podo hid the sword behind his back and held a calming hand out to them, but the people were pushing forward and getting louder by the second.

  “Easy now, Alep. We’ll figure somethin’—”

  “Jouncey as a two-ton bog pie!” Charney Baimington declared, and several Glipfolk agreed.

  “Just what do you plan to do with sixteen dead Fangs, Mister Igiby? Answer me that!” shouted a plump woman waving a broom.

  “Ferinia, calm down. That’s just what we’re doing is coming up with a plan.”

  “A plan! I’ve got a plan! We should run the Igibys into the Dark Sea of Darkness, that’s a plan!” Mayor Blaggus shouted from the back.

  It was all Podo could take. “ENOUGH!” he roared, and the townsfolk went as still and silent as statues. “The only thing going into the Dark Sea of Darkness tonight is bird droppings. Now listen to me, folks. We didn’t ask for this to happen, but it’s happened. It is what it is, and we’ll figure out something. Now if you’d be so kind as to let me and Oskar here have a few minutes to think, we’ll get this sorted out and be with you directly.” Under Podo’s glare, the crowd grumbled and muttered but finally dispersed. He closed the door and sighed. “Now, to business.”

  Janner and Tink sank to the floor and listened while Podo and Oskar hunched over the desk and talked in earnest.

  “The town will be set to the flame,” Podo said gravely.

  Oskar adjusted his spectacles and thought for a moment before nodding. “True. There’s little to be done about dear Glipwood, I fear. It’s only a matter of time before the Fangs at Fort Lamendron realize something’s amiss.”

  “Aye, and Gnorm said he was under orders from General Khrak himself. He’ll be expecting Gnorm and the carriage in a few hours. When it doesn’t show, they’ll send forces here.”

  “I’ve heard the Fangs can run like lightning when they’ve a mind to—faster than a horse,” Oskar said, pushing a wisp of hair behind one ear. “If that’s true, we don’t even have until morning before more Fangs arrive. Fort Lamendron has hundreds, maybe even thousands of the beasts. They’ll come here angry. They need little reason to terrorize us.” Oskar sighed. “ This is no little thing.”

  “Blast it all,” Podo said, driving his fist into the table. “There’s not much the Glipfolk can do. Either they fight or they run. Even if they had weapons, the townsfolk wouldn’t have a flabbit’s chance against a regiment of Fangs. They’ll have to run. The roads to Torrboro should be clear enough, yet. They can hide there, and by morning the Fangs will find Glipwood as empty as a ghost town. Maybe then there’s a chance it won’t burn. And after we’re gone for a while and the dust settles, the townsfolk might be able to come back.”

  “Some will stay, you know.”

  “Aye,” Podo said after a long moment. “Some will refuse to leave.” He punched the table again. “Me bones want to stay and fight those cursed lizards!” He glanced at the children and Nia. “But we have no choice. We’re running, and running far.”

  “The Ice Prairies?” Oskar looked grave.

  “Aye. It’s the only place the Jewels will be safe anymore.”

  Janner and Tink looked at one another, their eyes wide. They both had questions but were afraid to incur Podo’s wrath again, so they sat in stunned silence. There really were jewels, and Podo and Nia had them.

  “There’s no time to dally,” Podo said. “I have to get to the cottage and gather what I can for the journey. We won’t be coming back for a long time.” Podo breathed a weary sigh and added, “If at all.”

  Janner and Tink looked at one another again with wide eyes. We’re going to the Ice Prairies? 1

  “We’ll need supplies, old friend,” Podo looked at Oskar. “Real weapons, not these flimsy things.” Podo looked with distaste at Gnorm’s blade.

  “Anklejelly Manor, of course,” Oskar said with a nod.

  Janner felt his cheeks redden.

  “You’ll find more than enough of what you need,” Oskar said.

  “Good. I’ll take the boys with me to the cottage to gather what we need. Can you keep Nia and Leeli safe until we get back?”

  Oskar winked and bustled over to a crook of the study, where he stooped and pulled up a corner of the rug. Beneath was a trapdoor. “There are lanterns, blankets, and enough dried food to last a good while down there, just in case. In the words of Aman Putan, ‘We’ll hide them there until you return, at which point you’ll head out for safer lodging.’ I’ll have the map and key to the weapon
s chamber when you get back.”

  “Boys, come with me,” Podo ordered, and they leapt to their feet.

  While Nia and Leeli stepped down into Oskar’s secret basement, Janner and Tink followed their grandfather outside, where the small mob of Glipfolk waited impatiently.

  Podo cleared his voice and the chatter ceased. “We’ve considered our options, friends, and none are easy.” Podo looked hard at the Glipfolk—people he’d worked with for years, some he’d known since he was a boy. He took a deep breath, reluctant to say what he had to say. “We’ll have to run.”

  No one spoke.

  “You can either stay here and burn with the town, or you can flee. A regiment of Fangs from Fort Lamendron will head this way as soon as they get a whiff of what happened here tonight. They’ll be here before sunrise, we figure. When they get here, they’ll probably tear down the place out of spite, and destroy you with it. So if you want to avoid a mean death, you should get what you need and head north, to Dugtown or Torrboro. By morning, I fear Glipwood will not exist.”

  The wind moaned in the treetops. Podo waited for a challenge to his verdict, but none came. The people saw the truth of what Podo had said. Wordlessly, they dispersed, casting rueful glances at Podo as well as at the boys.

  Janner felt the scorn of people who had only ever smiled at him, and he wanted nothing more than to make things right. But how? What was done was done, and there was no undoing it.

  Shaggy the tavern owner plopped into a rocking chair on his nearby front stoop and lit a pipe. It was clear that he meant to stay. A scraggly old man approached, big tears running down his face and into his scruffy white beard.

  “Buzzard Willie,” Podo nodded in greeting.

  “Oy, old mate. I never told you proper I’m sorry I stole Merna Bidgeholler from ye back when we was lads. Been meanin’ to tell ye that fer years, you rascal.” He sniffed.

  Podo chuckled uncomfortably and clasped his friend’s shoulder, embarrassed about the many, many garden thwaps he’d dumped in Buzzard’s yard.

  “Merna? I tell ya, Willie, I’d plumb forgot about that. Mostly, anyway,” he added under his breath. “Water over the falls, that’s all it is. Water over the falls. Now you get on to Dugtown and stay with yer grandkids, eh? I’ll see you one of these days, ol’ mate.”

  Buzzard Willie nodded and drew his sleeve across his weepy face. “Oh, and sorry about yer barn burnin’ down. Looked like them Fangs really tore up things. I went out there earlier to give ye a little somethin’ from me garden, courtesy of meself. Left it on yer porch. A gift, for Merna’s sake.”

  “Aw, now Buzz,” Podo said. But his old friend was already moving across the street toward his house to gather up his wife and belongings.

  Podo looked at his grandsons. “Well, lads,” he said, changing the subject, “that went better than I expected. It looks like they’re all leavin’. All but Shaggy and the Shoosters, that is.” He said this with a hint of pride for his friends who were sitting on the stoop of The Only Inn, raising a toast to their town and waving good-bye to neighbors and friends. Glipfolk who were leaving had friends and family elsewhere and hurried to make it safely to their refuge without being caught.2 But for some, like Shaggy and the Shoosters, all they had and all they ever wanted was right there in Glipwood. They had nowhere to go and aimed to die fighting for their home.

  “Come on, boys,” Podo said, and they followed him to the jail where Fang corpses were scattered about, shriveled and dried as if they’d been decaying for years, not minutes. All that was left were crackled snakeskins, dusty bones, and armor.

  Podo pulled a sword from one of them and the clawed hand crumbled to a pile of dust that drifted away on the wind.

  “Go on and grab two more swords,” Podo said, as he collected a few daggers, including the one that Janner had buried in Gnorm’s side. Podo blew the dust from the weapons, walked to the tavern, and offered them somberly to Shaggy and the Shoosters. Janner and Tink heard a few murmured words between them, before their grandfather embraced his old friends, each in turn.

  Then in silence Podo and the boys walked briskly out of the township of Glipwood, where for a thousand years people had come for the Dragon Day Festival and been glad. Janner could hardly believe that in a matter of hours it would be rubble.

  “That’s it, young Leeli,” Oskar said as he helped a despondent Leeli Igiby down the wooden steps into the dank basement. “Down you go.”

  He sat her down on the dirt floor next to Nia and lit a lantern. It illuminated a tiny room with a few crates against the far wall. Oskar busied himself with arranging the crates and checking the supplies, and when he thought all was right, he turned his attention to the mother and daughter. He peered down at them through his spectacles.

  “I know it’s not the most comfortable accommodation, dear. In the words of Burley the Pow, ‘This place is indibnible. And dank.’ But you shouldn’t be in here for long, depending on how much time Podo takes fetching the supplies. It’s just best if we keep you hidden, in case something should go wrong.”

  Oskar cast a longing glance up at the warm light of his study. “I’m afraid there’ll be no time to save my books. All my maps and tomes and volumes and volumes of lore, lost forever. And this was the last of it, dears. All the books left in all of Skree were kept safe here. But no longer. No longer.” He blinked and came to himself again.

  “Ah, but the jewels. What use are books if the Jewels of Anniera are lost to us?” He winked at Leeli. “I’ll be packing what little I can afford to bring. And where is that little ridgerunner? I could use his help,” he said to himself.

  “I’ll close this until it’s time to go. In the words of Adeline the Poetess, ‘Get some rest. It’s for the best.’”

  Nia squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Oskar. You’re a good friend.”

  Oskar closed the hatch, and they were in darkness but for the single lantern atop a crate. Leeli cuddled up close to her mother, who could feel her daughter shivering.

  The barn behind the Igiby cottage had burned down to smoke and ashes, but the cottage still stood. Janner tried to grasp that he was seeing his home for the last time, and as much as it saddened him, he felt an undeniable thrill. He had often dreamed of seeing what lay beyond the great trees of Glipwood, but he always thought he would have to wait until he was much older to do it. Here he was, twelve years old and on his way to the Ice Prairies, a place he only knew by its name on an old map.

  “You boys hurry on in and set to packin’,” Podo said. “Not much. Just get a few tunics and britches each and tie ’em up in a bedroll. Do the same for yer sister. I’m off to round up Danny from the north field where the poor old beast’s been hitched to the wagon since the Fangs showed up. I just hope he’s still got the fire to tow us far enough tonight. I’ll be along in a minute to fetch what else we need.” Podo strode off into the darkness to the pasture.

  “I can’t believe we’re really leaving,” Tink said as he and Janner approached the cottage under a bright moon. “Where are the Ice Prairies, anyway?”

  “All I know is that they’re north, over the Stony Mountains. A long way from here.”

  Janner found in the dark the lantern and matches that were kept on the porch near the door. He lit the lantern and the two brothers pushed open the front door and stood looking at the mess made of the cottage during Gnorm’s reckless search for the jewels.

  If it hadn’t been for the smell of smoke in the air, perhaps they would have detected the lingering, vile Fang odor. And if they hadn’t been thinking about the long journey ahead, they might have noticed the sound of breathing or seen the long, serpentine tongue flitting hungrily from behind the door.

  39

  Buzzard Willie’s Gift

  Leeli and Nia looked up at the ceiling of their hiding place, alarmed at the commotion they heard.

  Footsteps. Many footsteps, running, pounding, shuffling.

  A scuffle, followed by a loud crash, sent dust floating down on the
m. Leeli started to sneeze but Nia clamped her hand over her daughter’s mouth. Nia could only guess at what was happening above them, and it couldn’t be good. She felt like a trapped animal. There was nowhere to turn, and she had no weapon with which to fight. She held on to Leeli, and they backed as far into a corner as they could and waited, praying. The footsteps clunked slowly toward the hatch, and Nia breathed a sigh of relief because it sounded like Oskar when he had busied himself in his study earlier. Maybe he had accidentally knocked over a shelf in his rush to salvage some important books.

  But then she heard a voice, and it wasn’t Oskar’s.

  Nia squeezed Leeli tight.

  The trapdoor was drawn slowly open, and they squinted up at the bright light streaming in.

  Nia’s eyes adjusted, and she saw the slight silhouette of Zouzab, twirling his odd little whistle around his finger.

  “Oh,” Nia sighed, “Zouzab, it’s you. Oskar was just—”

  Nia’s breath caught in her throat when beside him another slight figure appeared—another ridgerunner. They both smiled at her in a way that made her blood run cold.

  “Here they are, sergeant,” Zouzab said, and a Fang leapt into the chamber as Zouzab and the other ridgerunner scurried up to the top of a bookshelf.

  The cottage door slammed behind Janner and Tink as Slarb the Fang emerged in the lamplight and shoved them across the room. The boys crashed into one another and went sprawling to the floor, atop the burbleskin rug. The air was knocked from Janner’s lungs and he doubled over, water streaming from his eyes. He was dimly aware of Tink moving beneath him. When he was able to open his eyes, through the blur and stars in his vision, he beheld Slarb slowly moving their way, a long curved sword in his scaly fist.

  Slarb was ragged and thinner than before; dirt was caked between his scales, and his skin, rather than the usual cool green, had a ghostly pallor, like old lettuce lying in a gutter. A stench surrounded the Fang like a cloud of insects. To Janner it was the smell of madness, of murder. Slarb’s scaly skin hung from his frame like an ill-fitting costume. His time in the wild had changed the evil creature, if possible, for the worse.