THE EDGE CHRONICLES:
The Twig Trilogy
Beyond the Deepwoods
Stormchaser
Midnight over Sanctaphrax
The Quint Trilogy
The Curse of the Gloamglozer
The Winter Knights
Clash of the Sky Galleons
The Rook Trilogy
The Last of the Sky Pirates
Vox
Freeglader
BARNABY GRIMES:
Curse of the Night Wolf
Return of the Emerald Skull
Legion of the Dead
Phantom of Blood Alley
For younger readers:
FAR-FLUNG ADVENTURES:
Fergus Crane
Corby Flood
Hugo Pepper
Praise from readers of
THE EDGE CHRONICLES:
‘The Edge Chronicles are the best books I have read so far in my life. My favourite book out of all the trilogies is The Last of the Sky Pirates.’
Aranga, Macclesfield.
‘My favourite book of yours is Freeglader because I love the big battles that Rook has and I love shrykes because they’re really evil and bloodthirsty.’
Thomas, Fyfield.
‘I have read all of the Edge Chronicles books and I really enjoyed them. I especially enjoyed The Last of the Sky Pirates.’
Jack, Guildford.
‘My favourite Edge Chronicle book is Beyond the Deepwoods.’
Travis, IA, USA.
‘I’ve read all your books and the one I like best is Freeglader.’
Peter, Shrewsbury.
‘My favourite book in the series is The Curse of the Gloamglozer.’
Adam, New York, USA.
‘I really enjoy your books The Edge Chronicles. They are the best books that I have ever read, and trust me that’s a lot. My favourite book is either Stormchaser or The Last of the Sky Pirates. I think that you guys are a perfect team!’
Tommy Legge, website.
‘I think the simplest thing to say is that your books ROCK!!!’
Robbie, Dublin.
‘I have also read The Lost Barkscrolls and I loved it. I have really enjoyed The Edge Chronicles and I can’t wait for more.’
Edward, Wimbledon.
‘… your books are a real gift to literature. The illustrations are beautiful and the stories are exceptional. I love how the books fit together like a jigsaw and how everything falls into place. When I read them I feel happy, excited, sad and moved all at once. I was constantly amazed and surprised. Thank you for creating The Edge Chronicles. They have touched my heart and I’m sure they’ve done the same for many others.’
Katie, Oxon.
‘Your series is extraordinary! When I read about it, I feel exhilarated, and I feel as if I am in the book sharing the adventures with Twig, Rook and Quint.’
Ellen, Co. Meath.
‘I love the combination between the detail of writing and pictures as it sort of pulls you into the book as if you are encountering what the characters are.’
Jamie, email.
‘… you guys are my favourite authors! After reading Beyond the Deepwoods I could not put your books down and have read all of them since then.’
Michael, Vancouver.
‘I really admire your Edge Chronicle books. I particularly like the adventure in them as it makes a gripping read.’
Luke, Ditchling.
‘I enjoy your vast imagination on the series Edge Chronicles. Your books grip me into turning each page with thrilling adventure and murderous betrayals.’
Jonathan, Vancouver.
‘I wanted you to know how much The Edge Chronicles has meant to my children – you have encouraged them to enjoy reading.’
Diana, Brighton.
‘I am fourteen years old and I love The Edge Chronicles! Since the first one I have loved seeing how many different creatures could possibly inhabit the Edge. Possibly the best part of the series is the illustrations, they help you picture the creatures and the overall story better.’
Connor, New York, USA.
‘After completing your series, The Edge Chronicles, I feel that it would be hard to find a book nearly as good as any in the series. The suspense that I experienced throughout The Curse of the Gloamglozer kept me from putting the book down.’
Ethan Perry [no address].
‘The Winter Knights is another great installation to the series. What I love about this book and the rest in the series is that each book could easily stand on its own or be read in any order, but when you put them all together, details from one or another book come out, showing the in depth connection of everything that happens in life.’
Mike Bram, website review.
A DAVID FICKLING BOOK
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text and illustrations copyright © 2009 by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by David Fickling Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in Great Britain by Doubleday, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of the Random House Group Ltd., London, in 2009.
David Fickling Books and the colophon are trademarks of David Fickling.
Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89563-0
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
This book is dedicated to
Joseph and William, our sons, who have shared
our journey through the Edgelands, sustaining us
with their enthusiasm, advice and countless
conversations for nearly two decades.
CONTENTS
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
PART ONE - GREAT GLADE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
PART TWO - HIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
PART THREE - RIVERRISE
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY
PART FOUR - THE EDGE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
CHAPTER NINETY
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
The Edge Chronicles
• PART ONE •
GREAT GLADE
• CHAPTER ONE •
The eerie, booming call of the steam klaxon reverberated through the cabin, wrenching the dozen snoring phraxminers from their sleep. Some sat up immediately and looked round, bleary-eyed. Some slid from their floating sumpwood bunks and, still half-asleep, trudged off to the communal wash troughs. A couple of them simply rolled over and dragged the tilderfleece covers over their heads.
The klaxon sounded a second time, like some great forlorn creature calling for its mate. A groan went round the cabin. Someone cursed.
Nate Quarter sat up with a start – and cracked his head on the wooden slats of the bunk above. He slumped back onto the grimy pillow and rubbed his forehead ruefully. It was the same every morning when the dawn klaxon sounded. One moment he would be having a pleasant dream about winning a hand of splinters at a gaming table on a skytavern, and the next he’d be seeing stars and clutching his bruised forehead.
From the bunk above him came a deep rumbling laugh. ‘Should sleep in your helmet, young’un.’
‘Thanks for the advice, Rudd,’ Nate replied as the smiling face of a young cloddertrog appeared. ‘But if you were really concerned for my welfare, you’d swap bunks with me.’
‘Sorry, Nate, just can’t do it.’ Rudd shrugged as he climbed down from the top bunk. ‘Cutters get the top bunks, with you glowworms down below. I’ll race you to the troughs.’
Outside, the klaxon boomed a third time.
Sitting up slowly this time, Nate swung his legs round and dropped down from the sumpwood bunk to the wooden floor. Dust flew up as Nate’s feet touched the ground, and the dried mud on the bare boards got between his toes. With a sigh, Nate wiped the bits from the bottom of first one foot, then the other, before pulling on his boots. He crunched across the floor to the low, circular doorway through which his friend had just disappeared, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
There was no getting away from it in a mining stockade, thought Nate irritably. The mud.
It got everywhere; in your hair, under your nails, in the folds of your clothes. And no matter how many times the cabin was swept, there always seemed to be more left. Food tasted of it. Every surface was coated with it. Even the air was filled with a hazy mist of muddy dust. It made his scalp gritty and his skin grimy – and it left a nasty taste in his mouth.
Nate crossed the wide expanse of compacted earth outside – fringed on three sides by the sleeping cabins – to the line of huge wooden troughs that jutted out from the log wall of the stockade. Already, the troughs were bustling with phraxminers, busy washing the grime of nightdust from their faces, and Nate had to jostle to claim a place beside his cloddertrog friend.
The two of them made an odd couple. Rudd, like all of his kind, was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. Powerful muscles rippled beneath the mottled skin of his large arms and squat legs. Born cavedwellers, the cloddertrogs made natural miners, their prodigious strength invaluable when it came to wielding a pickaxe at the pitface. Nate, on the other hand, was lean and lightly muscled, tall for his fourteen years, but fresh-faced beneath his closely cropped hair. A fourthling whose family had originally come from Great Glade, Nate Quarter was a skilled lamplighter, his job taking him all over the mine workings far below ground.
Rudd eyed Nate humorously, before plunging his huge head back into the trough of swirling water and cleaning out his ears with his fingers. Nate joined him, plunging his own head down into the cold water.
It felt so good. He rubbed his neck and shoulders, then under his arms. He ran his fingers over his head, prodded around his ears, his eyes, and took in a mouthful of water. His head popped up, beads of water clinging to his cropped hair as he swirled the clean-tasting water around his mouth and spat it back into the trough.
Before him, the small globe embedded in the bottom of the trough purified the water instantly with its grain of sepia phraxdust. All around, the brackish green rainwater which had collected in the stockade water butts above poured down through wooden spouts, turning crystal-clear as it hit the line of wash troughs beneath.
Nate shook his head and wiped a hand over his face. It felt good to be clean. But it wouldn’t last, he knew. It never did.
‘The scars are fading,’ said Rudd.
Nate craned his neck and looked back over his shoulder. The angry red welts did look better, and when he reached round gingerly with his fingertips they were less hot to the touch. Yet the injustice of the beating would take far longer to fade from his memory.
Nate was proud of his skill as a lamplighter, and justifiably so. It was one of the most important jobs in the mine. Without lamplighters, it would have been impossible to mine for stormphrax.
Stormphrax!
The most extraordinary, the most beautiful, the most sought-after substance in all the Edgelands. Ground to dust, a single speck could endlessly purify even the foulest water, whilst a shard of crystal, when harnessed, had enough explosive energy to arm weapons, fuel engines and power mighty skyships.
Stormphrax. Lightning from the mighty storms that collected over the Twilight Woods. Discharged from the boiling storm clouds, the lightning bolts solidified in the twilight glow as they zigzagged down to earth.
Edge Chronicles 10: The Immortals Page 1
