On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (12 page)

23

The Groaning Ghost of Brimney Stupe

J
anner and Tink found themselves in a large room about the size of their whole cottage. All around were piles of odd-shaped objects covered in a thick layer of dust. At first, neither of them could tell what the piles consisted of, so Janner walked to the nearest one, a few feet to the right of the doorway, to get a better look. He leaned close to one of the dusty shapes and without warning, sneezed violently.

The eruption scattered the dust in a cloud, and the lamplight was reflected back by a flat piece of polished metal.

Janner had never seen a battle axe. Podo had often returned from town with a borrowed woodcutting axe, but this was nothing like it. The weapon was double edged, and the two blades combined were as wide as Janner's chest.

Tink stood beside him with his mouth hanging open. “What is it?” Tink asked in a quiet voice.

Janner didn't answer but ran his finger along the shining edge of the blade.

Tink blew the dust from another shape beside it, revealing a sword. Rubies and gems glimmered in the hilt, and an inscription in a language neither of them recognized ran the length of the blade.

Janner found another sword, stouter and less ornate, but polished and fine. Slowly they turned, their eyes wide with wonder. All around them were piles upon piles of swords, axes, shields, and daggers. Suits of armor stood like sentries along the wall. There were enough weapons for a small army, hidden in the cellar of Anklejelly Manor for who knew how many years.

After the initial shock, they hurried about the room, blowing and brushing dust from the weapons. Tink found a short sword and donned a small wooden shield. Janner tried to pull the axe from the pile but it was so heavy that as soon as the head was free it clanged to the floor. He wondered that any man could pick it up, let alone swing it in a fight. He found a dagger that suited him. He tied the scabbard to his belt and snatched the blade out several times, stabbing at the air. Tink put on a spiked helmet that was far too big for his head, and when Janner saw him he roared with laughter.

“Look at this!” Tink called, tossing the helmet aside. He had found hundreds of steel-tipped arrows, and beside them a pile of unstrung bows leaning in the corner.

Janner uncovered a coil of rope, which reminded him that they were trapped. They had been so enthralled by the weapons that he had forgotten the horned hounds and the unreachable cellar door. Janner took a good look around him at the trove of weapons.
Are these the Jewels of Anniera?
he wondered. What did dear old Oskar N. Reteep have to do with these weapons, anyway? He shuddered to think what the Fangs would do to them if they ever discovered this secret. Oskar had traveled all over Skree collecting books and curiosities. He must have gotten the weapons at the same time and hid them here.
But why?
Janner's mind whirled with all the answerless questions that had recently found a home there. But he would have time to think about all this later—right now he knew that he and Tink had to get home safely.

“Tink, we have to go.”

Tink looked up from the oversized breastplate he was trying to buckle, and after a moment's thought, nodded. Even Tink realized they couldn't stay in the chamber forever.

Janner held up the rope. “Maybe this will help.”

“Good. I'm starving. Maybe Grandpa will make some more of that cheesy chowder.”

Janner was relieved that for once, Tink didn't argue. “Leave everything here. The last thing we need is to be caught by a Fang—”

“Or Ma,” Tink said. “—with a weapon.”

They laughed together, took one last look at the shimmering room, and shut the door with a clank. The depressed buttons all clicked back out again, sealing the chamber from anyone without the map. They hustled back through the low tunnel, Janner with the rope slung over his shoulder, wondering how he would use it to escape.

Suddenly from the darkness behind them came a sound that turned their blood cold.

Drifting up from the weapons chamber was a wordless, menacing groan.

They had awakened the ghost of Brimney Stupe.

24

The Road Home

J
anner and Tink stopped in their tracks and looked behind them, but beyond the lamplight—nothing. The moan floated to them again, and Tink's hands shook so violently that he dropped the lamp to the damp floor, where it snuffed out.

That was all Tink could take. Squealing like a meep, he scrambled through the tunnel.

Janner hurried after him, cold fear shivering through his veins. He imagined a thousand bony fingers clawing at his back and flew up the stairs in two bounds.

Tink was already at the top, wielding one of the old boards dangerously.

Janner wondered what Tink thought he would do with the plank, if the ghost of Brimney Stupe actually did come whooshing at him, but he admired his brother's intentions—and snatched his own short, sturdy-looking plank from the woodpile.

The long moan rose up out of the mouth of the passageway again as Janner frantically tied the rope to the center of the board.
Please, please work,
he thought. He took aim and hurled the board through the doorway, noticing dimly that the horned hound was no longer there. He tugged on the rope, but the board clattered back to the floor. On the second try, Janner jerked the rope so that the board was pulled flat against the door frame. Praying that the beasts were long gone and that the plank would hold, he clambered up the wall and through the door.

Janner reached down from the opening. “Tink, come on!” he cried over the moaning that echoed in the black room.

Tink tore his eyes from the tunnel opening to see that he was alone in the cellar. “Awk!” he cried as he tossed his board aside and scurried up the rope like a mad squirrel. He bypassed Janner's hand and zipped up and through the door where they both collapsed onto the floor, panting.

Janner kicked the plank and rope back into the cellar, thinking that it would be best to remove as many traces of their presence as they could. Just being out of the dark cellar made Brimney Stupe seem less frightening, but now they had to contend with the horned hounds.

The brothers crept back through the house and peeked out the front door, squinting in the brightness. The late afternoon sun was as warm and welcome as life itself.

Janner scanned the edge of the forest for any sign of movement. “I don't see them,” he whispered.

Tink's face was pale.

Another chilling moan drifted up to them from the bowels of Ankle-jelly Manor.

“You ready?”

“I've never been so ready,” Tink breathed.

“Run!”

The Igiby brothers ran past the stone bench, through the iron gate, down the long lane that sloped away from Anklejelly Manor and the border of the forest, and they didn't stop until they reached the field just behind the Blaggus Estate.

Unable to move another step, they lay sweating in the tall grass until they could breathe again. Then they rose to walk home, unable to believe that they were still alive and making solemn oaths to never again set foot in that horrid, wondrous place.

Janner and Tink approached the cottage in the late afternoon just as Podo was walking down the lane with a wriggling sack over his shoulder.

“Lads! It looks like the ol' Blaggus boys beat ye pretty smart again, did they?” Podo eyed their filthy, sweaty clothes.

Janner and Tink each forced a laugh.

“Where are you off to?” Janner asked, changing the subject.

Podo bent closer and put a hand to the side of his mouth.

“Don't tell yer ma—unless she asks, of course—but all these thwaps I've been snagging? See, I take 'em and I dump 'em into old Buzzard Willie's yard across town. Tee hee!” Podo laughed, slapping his knee. “That rascal never gave me a moment's peace when we were wee lads here in Glipwood, not to mention how he wooed sweet Merna Bidgeholler right out from under me nose. And besides,” Podo's white eyebrows bunched together, “his totaters and sugarberries are always plumper than mine.” He scratched his wild head of hair and muttered, “I don't know how he does it.” He held out the sack and whacked it happily, bringing forth a chorus of chatter from inside. “So I'll see you lads a' supper!”

Podo limped away toward Buzzard Willie's, whistling and twirling the sack as he went.

Janner and Tink stood side by side a moment to watch Podo until he was out of sight. Then they made their own way back to the cottage, grateful to be home again.

But they were not the only ones watching. From behind a glipwood tree on the back lawn, Slarb the Fang squinted at Janner and Tink entering their cottage. Slarb had been slinking around the Igiby place all day, careful not to be seen. He had watched in agony, holding his hands to the sides of his head while Leeli practiced her whistleharp on the front porch. He had watched with loathing as Nia washed the clothes just outside the back door. And several times, when Leeli had played fetch with Nugget, it took all of Slarb's willpower to keep from snatching up the dog for once and for good.

Even now, clacking his teeth in the shadow of a glipwood tree, he yearned to sink his teeth into anything Igiby unfortunate enough to come near.

25

In the Hall of General Khrak

M
eanwhile, in the city of Torrboro, Commander Gnorm was just arriving at the Palace Torr after traveling through the night and most of the day. By the reckoning of the old maps, Torrboro was a two-day journey from Glipwood by the main road, but the Fangs stopped for neither rest nor food as they drove their horses mercilessly across the barren prairies to the city.

The city of Torrboro sprawled on the south bank of the River Blapp and bustled with activity. No one who lived there seemed to know where anyone else was going or why, and many had very little notion as to where they themselves were going at any given moment. People were walking, pushing carts, driving carriages, leading sheep, carrying sacks of totatoes, loading wagons with fish; selling, buying, yelling, talking—all without smiling or thinking about much at all.

Lurking among the people were armored Fangs of varying sizes and shapes.

Lurking among the Fangs were trolls, and a single troll stunk worse than a hundred Fangs. If a troll brushed against some unfortunate passerby, the poor fellow would stink up his home for weeks; so wherever the trolls went, the people scattered like windblown leaves.

The citizens of Torrboro could scarcely remember the days before the war when Fangs and trolls were only rumors from across the Dark Sea of Darkness. Now the sight of monsters walking among them seemed as normal as the seagulls that swooped and chattered in the air above the city.

Commander Gnorm started to open the carriage door but stopped when he saw the jewels glittering on his fat arms and fingers. He hastily removed the bracelets and rings and placed them in his pouch, relieved that he had remembered to conceal them. He didn't want any fights over his newly acquired shinies.

Gnorm squeezed himself out of the carriage with a long grunt and picked at the pieces of flabbit stuck between his teeth. He had been snacking on the drive. The exhausted horses wheezed and staggered while the plump commander climbed the long stairway to the mouthlike entrance of the Palace Torr.
¹
The once-beautiful castle stood tall and sharp against the gray sky, the windows of its spires black, its banners tattered and swaying limply in the thick air as if in mourning for their former glory. Two troll guards stood watch at the main door, looking down at Gnorm and the driver.

“What businesss have you wi' the general,” one of them said in a booming voice that rattled Gnorm's armor.

“The same business I had last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, horse maggot,” Gnorm scowled. The troll burped and moved aside, motioning for the other troll to open the great wooden door.

“Oafs,” Gnorm hissed as he passed over the threshold and into the palace.

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.