On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness

by Andrew Peterson

  “I’m okay. It’s not too far down,” he said.

  “Well done, lad,” Podo called down.

  Then, from out of the darkness, Janner heard the moan.

  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

  It rose up out of the tunnel and swirled around the room. Janner smacked his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. His mind grew numb with panic, and he tried to convince himself that if he opened his eyes he wouldn’t see the glowing eyes of a hungry ghost. He scoffed that he ever believed Podo that a sound so horrible could be the wind.

  “Janner!” He could hear Podo’s voice faintly, cutting through the ghostly groan. “It’s the wind, lad! There ain’t no ghost!” the old man cried.

  AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

  Time and time again Podo had proven trustworthy, Janner told himself. Why shouldn’t he trust him now? Janner clenched his jaws tight and prepared himself to see Brimney Stupe and then the Maker.

  Finally, Janner opened his eyes. Darkness.

  Podo thudded to the floor beside him and pried Janner’s hands from his ears. In the blackness Janner sensed his grandfather’s face close to his and felt his warm breath when he spoke.

  “It’s all right lad. Just the wind. Feel my hands. These are real.”

  Janner nodded. At the touch of Podo’s big callused fingers, the moaning shrunk in his mind and was replaced with shame. He was thankful that in the darkness his face was hidden.

  “Sorry,” Janner said.

  “No time for that,” Podo said, ruffling Janner’s hair. Just as he reached up and called for Leeli, the thump of footsteps and a snarl floated through the house above them.

  The Fangs were inside.

  Shadows moved over shadows in the manor as the Fangs spread like smoke through the house. Janner no longer heard fighting outside, which meant that Peet and Nugget were dead or had finally fled. Janner was angry at himself that he had been more afraid of the imaginary ghost than of the Fangs. He had cost them valuable time.

  “Nia! Pass Leeli down!” Podo hissed.

  Nia took Leeli’s hands and lowered her into his waiting arms. She did the same for Tink, then Nia dropped Podo’s bundle down and came last. When she scooted off and thudded to the ground, there came a grunt of surprise from the room above them. Suddenly the dim outline of a Fang appeared in the doorway, peering down.

  The Igibys froze. A breathless moment passed, during which Janner was sure Podo had made a grave mistake leading them here. Though they could not see it, a slow smile spread across the Fang’s face.

  “I can ssssmell you,” the Fang hissed. “General Khrak!” he called, then disappeared from the doorway, and they heard it call again, “General Khrak! I’ve found them!”

  44

  Following Podo

  Tink!” Podo wasted no time. “Where’s the tunnel?”

  Tink remembered the matches and lantern he and Janner had discovered the last time they were there. He felt his way to the corner of the room near the pile of wood planks and grabbed the matchbox, but—the lantern was missing. Tink’s heart shriveled till he remembered that he had dropped it at the foot of the steps in his terror at the moaning of Brimney Stupe.

  With a deep breath, Tink rushed down the steps. His foot struck the lantern and he snatched it up and bounded up the steps. One strike of the match and the cellar was full of yellow light, illuminating the mouth of the tunnel and the stairs leading down to shadows. Tink lit the oil lamp and held it high.

  “Tink, no!” Janner yelped. “The light attracts—”

  But Podo cut him off. “Too late for that. In you go, quick!” Podo bustled Leeli and Nia down the steps. The air grew close and damp, and suddenly the manor above them seemed far, far away. It was difficult for Janner to walk Leeli through the low-ceilinged passageway, but after it opened up they were able to scoot along at a quick pace.

  “Tink, they’re coming!” cried Podo from the rear. Janner turned the corner and saw Tink staring at the old doorway. At the look on Tink’s face, Janner felt a thud of despair. How had they forgotten? The map was the key to opening the door, and it was still at Oskar’s shop.

  “What’s the wait?” Podo said as he rounded the corner with Nia.

  “The map—it had a key. Holes that showed which of these buttons to push. Tink, do you remember which ones?”

  “It was in the shape of a W,” Tink said, jabbing the buttons. He turned the latch and—the door didn’t budge. Tink rattled the handle frantically. Now they could hear the Fangs behind them, probably in the cellar.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong!” he cried. “Janner! Isn’t this right?”

  “Hurry lads!”

  Janner stared at the rows of buttons on the door.

  Podo looked around the corner. “They’re in the tunnel!” His voice was urgent. “Have you got it?”

  Janner closed his eyes and went over it again and again in his head. The buttons had been in the shape of a W, centered on the door. He was sure that was right. Why wouldn’t the door open? Tink pressed all the buttons in again, firmly, and tried the handle. Still the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Wait—the corners!” Janner said. “Press the corners in!”

  “That’s it!” In a frenzy, Tink clicked buttons in again, this time with the four corners pressed. The door swung open, and the Igibys tumbled into the room full of dusty weapons.

  Podo wasted no time in choosing a shield and spear from a pile. “There’ll be no room to swing a sword in that tunnel,” he said to himself as he moved back to the iron door.

  “Grandpa, you can’t go back out there!” Leeli said.

  Podo didn’t seem to hear her. He stopped and looked at Tink, who was using the lamp to light a torch on the wall.

  “Janner, find a blade and follow me with that lantern. Tink, you arm yourself and stay here with Nia and Leeli. If we fall, you hold this door shut till these Fangs die of old age, hear?” Then he turned and reentered the passageway.

  Janner stood at the doorway his grandfather had just exited, thinking that he was seeing the kind of courage that he had only read about. Who knew how many armed Fangs clotted the very passageway his old, one-legged grandfather had just dashed into? Janner wanted nothing more than to own that kind of courage, but there he stood shivering in his skin and feeling as useless as a dead leaf.

  He heard a rattle behind him and turned to see Tink rummaging through the weapons and armor. Nia hefted a short sword from the pile, then gave Leeli a long dagger and pulled her close. They stood in the center of the room, Tink now in front of his mother and sister with a shield and sword.

  Janner took a deep breath, grabbed the nearest sword, and followed Podo into the tunnel with the lantern, barely able to keep his legs under him. The sound of steel on steel that echoed from the passageway was nearly drowned out by Podo’s roar.

  Janner could see nothing but the damp stone walls, the end of his sword, and Podo’s rear. Beyond Podo he heard the enraged Fangs and caught glimpses of scaly fists and bared teeth. Podo stood his ground in the low tunnel, barring the way with the great shining shield. Whenever he saw an opening he jabbed the spear with all his might. The Fangs wailed and growled, and Podo managed a few steps forward. Janner nearly tripped over something and saw with disgust that he was stepping over the body of the Fang Podo had just slain.

  He wondered what he was supposed to be doing. He couldn’t fight from his position behind Podo, not that he would do much good if he could. If Podo fell, Janner wouldn’t last a minute. And why had he brought the lantern? Podo was blocking all the light that might’ve done him any good. Janner considered putting the lantern down so that maybe he could squeeze beside Podo and get in a jab or two. But then he heard Podo’s voice in his head.

  Just trust me, boy, and do as I say.

  Podo had wanted him to bring the lantern. That was that. Janner grimaced as he stepped over yet another dead Fang. Why were they forcing their way back up the tunnel? It made much more sense to him that Podo sho
uld have made his stand in the armor room. They could lock the door and hold it shut, and if the door was breached they could at least slay the Fangs one at a time as they entered the chamber. Either way, Janner figured they seemed hopelessly trapped.

  Trust me, boy.

  Podo killed another two Fangs and forced his way further up the tunnel. Janner could see that they were getting closer to the cellar. What then? He didn’t know, but he grew more and more panicky the closer they got. Perhaps Podo planned to die gloriously with Janner in the cellar, making their final stand on the woodpiles—

  The woodpiles. “There’s nothing that attracts the beasts of the forest like a good blaze,” Podo had said.

  Janner suddenly understood. And the prospects terrified him.

  Podo advanced again, and suddenly he and Janner were climbing over more dead Fangs and up the steps to the cellar. They burst into the dark room to find two more lizards poised to attack. A third Fang leapt from the high doorway and more were coming. Podo set to waving his spear around wildly, forcing them back.

  “Janner!” he bawled, jabbing at a Fang who had stepped in to thrust.

  “I know! The woodpile!”

  Janner edged along the wall toward the heap of old timber, keeping a close eye on the Fangs, but they were preoccupied with the mad one-legged ex-pirate bellowing at them. He held the lantern over his head, clenched his eyes tight, and hurled it down onto the stack of old, dry lumber. The oil in the lantern splattered across the wood, staining it with liquid fire that whooshed along the dried planks. In a matter of seconds, the blaze shot higher than Janner’s head and inched upward to the ancient wood of the cellar ceiling, the same ceiling he and Tink had pelted rocks through for light.

  Podo risked a glance at the flames and paid for it with the first real wound he had received in many long years. One of the Fangs stabbed him in the belly. The others were so surprised that the old warrior had actually been hurt, they stood for a moment in shock. With a roar, Podo ran the Fang through and flung his spear at the others. The spear skewered one of them, and even before its body crumpled to the ground Podo had gathered Janner before him and was bounding back down the stone steps.

  The other Fangs, unconcerned with the rising blaze, awoke from their shock and gave chase.

  Janner ran with all his might. He burst into the weapon room to a surprised Tink who was ready to strike the first thing that came through the door.

  “Grandpa’s coming, and the Fangs are behind him!” Janner said breathlessly, skidding to the ground. Tink rushed over and stood with his back to the wall beside the door. He gripped his sword in two hands and clenched his teeth.

  With a loud cry, Podo tumbled through the doorway and collapsed, bright blood covering his hands and the front of his tunic.

  Two Fangs were close behind. They trampled over his body as if he were already dead, howling with victory. Tink swung his sword with all his might as the first one burst into the chamber. The blade cut the creature cleanly in two, though it continued running toward Leeli and Nia as its bottom half and top half slid apart and sunk to the floor within inches of them.

  The second Fang received a lesser blow from the same swing, but a crippling one. It howled at the wound in its side but still advanced toward them, its blade aimed right at Leeli.

  Janner found his feet and struck the charging Fang’s blade upward with his sword. But the Fang flew into Leeli and Nia, and the three of them crashed to the floor in a heap.

  In unison Janner and Tink cried out and rushed to the pile to discover the tip of Nia’s sword protruding from the Fang’s back.

  “Grandpa!” Leeli cried, wriggling from beneath the creature.

  All eyes turned to Podo as Leeli scooted to him. Moaning, on his back just inside the doorway, Podo was on the verge of losing consciousness.

  More Fangs were coming, and with them, heat and the smell of smoke.

  45

  A Long Night

  Quick!” Janner said to Tink, and they dragged Podo out of the doorway. They slammed and locked the heavy door just as the pursuing Fangs crashed into it. Janner and Tink braced the door with their shoulders as the snake men pounded on it bodily.

  Tink looked at his brother. “I don’t know how long we can hold ’em.”

  Before Janner could answer, the sound of panic seeped through the anger in the monsters’ voices, and orange firelight flickered through the crack under the door.

  Janner and Tink stood bracing the door, exhausted by the Fangs who clawed and pounded on the door.

  Podo lay on his back and moaned. Leeli held his head in her lap as Nia pressed a wad of his tunic to the wound.

  “Do you hear that?” Janner said, cocking his head sideways.

  “Besides the Fangs on the other side of the door?” Tink said, sweat dripping from his brow.

  “Horned hounds,” Janner said.

  A bone-chilling howl worked its way through the rock and fire. Then another howl, and another.

  Podo had been right once again. The firelight had drawn the hounds from the bosom of Glipwood Forest.

  For hours they stood that way, Janner and Tink’s backs to the door, holding it fast against whatever might be on the other side. The piercing howls of the horned hounds mingled with the snarls of Fangs, who struggled ever more violently to get in. Janner thought many times that the old iron door would surely break from its hinges and the weapon chamber would become their unmarked grave.

  But the door held. Eventually the pounding ceased, though far above them the howls continued, and then different sounds—terrible mewling, gurgling sounds.

  Podo’s breaths grew more and more raspy and shallow. His face was sweaty and ashen, and he had fallen unconscious. Leeli laid her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. Nia sat beside her father and held his hand. Her eyes were closed and she hummed an old whistleharp tune that echoed in the chamber. Janner felt his eyes drooping. A long time had passed without any signs of disturbance from the opposite side of the door. All he could hear was the roar of the blaze and the occasional crash of falling timbers.

  “You should rest,” Janner told his brother.

  Tink wiped his brow and shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  They had survived much longer than Janner thought possible. He knew they would sooner or later have to emerge from the chamber, and what would they find? Fangs? Horned hounds? Walls and floors of the manor burned to the ground, leaving them with even fewer places to hide?

  Though his head spun with worry, Janner’s eyelids drooped. The sleepier he got, the less he cared about the Fangs, or whatever monsters had been trying to get at them. He shook his head to keep himself awake, but seeing the sleeping forms of Nia and Leeli in the waning torchlight made it difficult.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can…stay awake,” he mumbled to Tink, whose answer was a long, loud snore.

  Tink had slid to the floor with his back against the door, fast asleep.

  The last thing Janner knew as he drifted off was the low groan of the ghost of Brimney Stupe. It filled the chamber and whipped the torch flame in an unseen breeze.

  Nothing but the wind, Janner thought, and then he slept.

  Janner woke with a start and leapt to his feet. The chamber was completely dark. He thought for a moment that he was in the Black Carriage, that he could still hear the cawing of crows, the remnants of a dark dream clinging to him like cobwebs. Tink’s familiar snore brought him back to the underground chamber. The torch must be spent, he thought—but the Fangs! The hounds! Janner put his ear up to the cold iron door and listened.

  Silence.

  No horned hounds howled. No Fang snarled or hissed. All was still.

  Janner nudged Tink with no success. He groped in the dark and could feel Tink’s figure, curled up and sleeping a few feet from the door.

  He thought about opening the door without waking the others. He could do it quietly, just to see if the sun had yet risen and whether by some miracle of the Maker the F
angs were gone or at least distracted. He put a sweaty hand on the door handle, hesitated for a moment, and turned it. The click echoed in the room and Janner flinched, afraid he would alert the monsters outside and above.

  With a deep breath, he pulled on the great door and it creaked open. His eyes had so adjusted to the darkness that the faint light trickling down the tunnel stung. As Janner shielded his eyes, his mouth dropped open at what lay before him.

  A pile of shriveled Fang corpses clogged the passageway. They were so decomposed it was impossible to tell what had killed them, but by their tangled positions, Janner could see their deaths had been woeful.

  He stepped over the threshold and made his way past the pile of armored skeletons, vainly trying to avoid touching them. He toed one of the dead Fangs. The leather armor made little noise as the bones collapsed in clouds of dust. Janner turned the corner and squinted again as stronger light shone on him, down the passageway from the cellar.

  Still he heard no sound, but as he tiptoed up the tunnel steps the smell of smoke increased, and he could see through the entryway bits of flame fussing weakly about on hunks of charred wood.

  Janner emerged to peer up at a sky so blue and placid that his chest heaved a tearless sob. Anklejelly Manor had burned to the ground, and many of the Fangs had burned with it. Bits of charred armor lay strewn across the cellar floor. The ceiling was gone, the walls were gone, and much of the stonework had collapsed as the ancient timbers tumbled down. He couldn’t see much above the rim of the cellar, which was now just a rectangular hole in the ground, but he knew somehow that the Fangs were gone. So, too, were the hounds and whatever manner of beasts had been drawn to the flames. The wind blew, embers sputtered, and Janner found himself smiling wide at the pristine sound of cooing fazzle doves.

  A mournful wail split the air.

  Janner nearly tripped over himself trying to dart back into the tunnel. His heart pounded as the wail grew closer by the second. It was some kind of trap, he thought bitterly. He should’ve known it was too good to be true that their enemies were destroyed.