On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (4 page)

“And he's gone,” Janner said.

“Do you think it's true that he lives up near the old forest?” Tink asked.

Janner shrugged. “He'd have to be crazy to live there.” In the years before the war, rangers and trappers braved the forest and tamed the deadly beasts that prowled within it. But the Fangs had taken every weapon in the land. Every sword and shield, every bow and arrow, every dagger and spear, every farm tool that could be used as a weapon was locked away and guarded.
³

“Well if anybody's crazy enough to go near the forest, it's Peet.” Tink paused. “The Blaggus boys said they saw him riding a toothy cow like it was a horse up by the forest, whipping its rear with a switch and singing a ballad.”

Janner snorted. “No way. Nobody could survive a toothy cow. Besides, the Blaggus boys are too jumpy to go anywhere near the forest. They're pulling your strings.” Janner turned to go. “Come on.”

But he stopped in his tracks and grabbed his brother's arm. He couldn't see Leeli. His head whipped to and fro, scanning the crowded street.

“Where's Leeli?” he cried. “Leeli!”

Tink tapped him on the shoulder. Janner whirled around to find his brother pointing to the ground at Janner's feet. Leeli was sitting there scratching Nugget's belly, looking up at him innocently. He sighed and felt his insides quiver with relief. In the space of a few seconds, he had envisioned Leeli lost or hurt, and he felt a tinge of the painful guilt he'd bear if something ever actually happened to her.
But nothing ever does,
he thought bitterly.
Here we are at the Dragon Day Festival, and I'm a nervous mess since the minute we arrived. Over nothing at all.

What could possibly happen in just a few seconds?

6

A Bard at Dunn's Green

C
ome on,” Janner grumbled, relieved but annoyed at himself for panicking.

Tink reached down to help Leeli to her feet, but she ignored him and got up with the help of her crutch.

Suddenly, the blast of a horn pealed through the summer air and the crowd cheered. The games were beginning. All day long, games would be played on Dunn's Green, the wide lawn on the east side of town. Participants and spectators would stay there for most of the afternoon watching sack races, handyball,
¹
Zibzy, and wiggle the chicken. Everyone lay on quilts in the soft grass and watched the sports, nibbling treats purchased in town.

And that was exactly what Janner had in mind to do, if they could ever get there.

Janner pulled Leeli along by her free hand and urged Tink to keep up. “Could you two walk any slower?”

Tink was far more interested in the delicious smells wafting from the kitchens and makeshift stands where merchants were selling baked butter-dough pastries and fire-cooked swisher fins.

“Hang on, I want a berry bun.” Tink dug into his pocket with the hand Janner wasn't tugging.

Janner was losing his patience. “I'll buy you a berry dumpling later if you want. Come on,” he grumbled.

Tink relented, casting a long, regretful glance over his shoulder at a plump man in an apron basting a platter of buns with bright red jam.

When they finally arrived at Dunn's Green, the Igiby children sat on the lawn and watched the festivities all morning and into the hot afternoon. When the sun slipped westward and the shadows began to lengthen, the people chattered more and more. At dusk the sea dragons would come, and the people would perch on the cliffs to watch them dance by the light of the moon. Janner could feel the anticipation in the air.

To his delight, Tink had spotted a merchant selling blueberry gooey-balls just behind them. He had spent the few coins Nia had given him, so Janner had begrudgingly shared some of his own just to quiet Tink's stomach (and his mouth). Tink had no idea that his face was now smeared with dark purple. Leeli was content to passively watch the games while she tickled Nugget's belly or threw a stick for him to fetch. The onlookers had tolerated this until she'd accidentally thrown the stick onto the playing field. When Nugget chased it, one of the handyball players (who was rolling awkwardly across the field, careful not to let his feet touch the grass) missed a pass from another player because Nugget got in his way. All eyes had turned angrily toward Leeli, whose cheeks burned as red as Tink's were purple, but when the onlookers saw Leeli's crutch, they softened their glares and the game continued. Janner was glad that Leeli was too busy scolding Nugget to notice the crowd's pity, or she would have been even more upset.

Janner was as excited about all the unfamiliar faces around him as he was about the games. He wondered where all these people had come from, though the attire gave some folks away. The Torrboro citizens, for example, all dressed alike: The men wore little black hats, coats with long tails (in spite of the summer heat), and pants pulled up to a shocking height. The buckles of their belts sat just a little below their chins. The fashionable women wore frilly dresses with patterns that depicted the noses of various animals; their black shoes were pointy and oversized, as if their toes were as long as feet themselves, which made the women lurch forward when they walked. To Janner, it was like watching circus clowns (which he'd only read about) desperately trying not to be funny. Most of them wore white gloves, so when a handyball player scored a goal the sound of their applause was more like thopping than clapping, and they'd say things like “Good show!” or “Ho-lo, mommy-crack-a-whip!” or “Boozie!” or “Indibnibly fine shot!”

The long-haired folk from Dugtown weren't so odd in their dress, but their manner was shocking. Men and women alike were loud and their laughter sounded more like howling. Janner could tell that certain words they used were unacceptable to the Torrboro folk standing nearby, but the Dugtowners were oblivious. They growled and guzzled and made such a jolly racket that it was hard not to like them in spite of themselves.

Each stranger in Glipwood that day was a reminder to Janner that he had never,
never
left the town. They lit up his imagination and filled him with an ache to see the world. But then he would hear Leeli giggle or Tink burp and remember again that for now he would have to watch after his sister and brother in this dreadfully quiet little town—quiet, that is, except on the day the sea dragons came. He resolved to enjoy himself and pushed all unpleasant thoughts out of his mind.

Suddenly a commotion across the field interrupted Janner's thoughts—and the handyball game. Onlookers near the opposite goal had turned around, trying to make room for something or someone. Excited whispers circulated through the multitude, but Janner couldn't make out what anyone was saying. Voices rose up from the crowd, and even the players, sweating and covered with grass stains and dirt (though their feet were quite clean), stopped and focused on the fuss.

Janner and Tink stood up to try and see what was the matter, but there was nothing to see but agitated spectators shuffling out of the way while someone pushed in from behind them. The Fang sentries growled and hissed their irritation at the disturbance. They were charged with keeping the people under control, and something unusual was happening. As much as they hated the Skreeans, they weren't interested in doing any extra work on a hot day like this one.

Then the rumor finally reached Janner's ears. A portly woman to his far right gasped and said breathlessly to her portly husband that Armulyn the Bard had come unannounced and had been asked to sing by the honorable Mayor Blaggus of Glipwood.
²

Tink and Janner looked at one another in disbelief. Armulyn the Bard was there, in Glipwood? Could it be that the very man who claimed to have visited the Shining Isle of Anniera,
³
the same Armulyn who wandered the captive lands and sang of the legends of Aerwiar,
⁴
of great deeds and great loves, was even now in Glipwood in his regal garb upon his majestic horse?

All thoughts of the handyball game vanished. The players were greatly relieved about this fact and stood up, moaning and stretching. Two burly men rolled an empty wagon to the center of the playing field. Mayor Blaggus mounted the makeshift platform with a grunt and it creaked beneath his weight (he had eaten a few too many sugarbutter pastries in his day). He wore dark leggings and a bright red shirt. A gaudy yellow feather sprouted out of his hat, and he curled his moustache self-importantly. Blaggus held his hands out to silence the audience, then he turned to address the Fangs.

“With our all-wise and stunningly handsome and powerful and swift soldiers' permission,” he said, bowing deeply so that his belly touched his knees, “we would like to hear a song or two from the bard Armulyn. We beseech your lordships this trite pleasure, for which we will give you our eternal thanks and servitude.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tink muttered with a sideways glance at the Fangs, whose scaly smirks showed how much they were enjoying the mayor's groveling. One of the Fangs nodded and let out a slithery growl that polluted the air like smoke.

“We thank you, kind masters.” Mayor Blaggus cleared his throat. His tone changed abruptly to the regal, inflated voice he had used for many years before the Great War. “My dear friends and neighbors, an honor rarely bestowed has risen on us like a warm sun,” he announced. “Armulyn the Bard, tale-spinner of the imaginary Shining Isle of Anniera, has chanced to join us in Glipwood on this fine day. He has accepted my invitation to perform for us. Please welcome this son of Skree to Glipwood by the Sea. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Armulyn the Bard!”

A bedraggled man stepped up to the wagon with a worn whistleharp
⁵
under one arm. The smile on his leathery face reminded Janner of a mischief-minded little boy about to disobey. Armulyn winked at the crowd and bellowed, “Hello, dear Skreeans! Fangs are ugly!”

The applause ceased abruptly, and the four Fangs standing at the edge of the crowd roared a chilling roar and rushed, hissing, toward the bard.

7

Barefoot and Beggarly

J
anner felt a sheen of cold sweat break over him like a fever. It took him a moment to realize what he'd just heard. Had Armulyn just insulted the Fangs? Amidst the waters of his shock was a splash of surprise that the beggarly man on the platform was in fact the famous storyteller. Was there some mistake? Surely Armulyn the Bard would at least be wearing shoes, he thought. And by the filthy, callused look of the man's feet, Janner could see that he rode no horse but walked wherever he went. If not for the weatherworn whistleharp in his hands and the deep waters of his eyes, Janner would have believed the man was an impostor.

The Fangs pushed Glipfolk aside and bounded toward the wagon, drawing their swords as they ran. Janner's whole body tightened, and he tried to tear his eyes away from the moment when the Fangs reached Armulyn. Many in the crowd emerged from their shock in time to scream.

But the bard merely stood on the wagon and smiled. As the Fangs neared, Armulyn strummed his whistleharp and raised his voice in song. The Fangs faltered, jerked to a stop, and crouched before Armulyn, trying in vain to cover their ears and wave their swords at him at the same time.

“Sssilence!”
one of them hissed.

Armulyn stopped singing and raised his eyebrows at them, as if annoyed at the interruption.

“Yes?”

“Careful,
bard,
” the Fang spat. “It would be nothing for us to chop you into bits and gobble you in a broth.”

Armulyn gazed at their sinister faces with that same reckless smile. “I doubt you'd like the taste of me. I'm wiry and ill fed.” The only sound was the rattle of leaves in the wind. “Will that be all?” the Bard said after a moment, lifting the whistleharp to play again.

The Fangs stood frozen, but Janner thought he saw their black eyes shift sideways at the throng of people surrounding them on the green.

“Enjoy your petty songs,” the lead Fang growled. He turned to the crowd. “And we will enjoy killing you all the moment Gnag the Namelesss decides he is finished with you. May that day come quickly.” The Fang's tongue flitted out between his long narrow teeth, and his mouth curled upward in a grin. He clacked his teeth together and hissed at a little girl cowering at her parents' feet as those surrounding her on the field looked down at the ground or closed their eyes. The Fang who had spoken spat on the grass and moved away, his three companions following with hisses of their own.

The silence was broken by the strum of the whistleharp. The whiskery man raised his voice again in song, and there was no longer any doubt in Janner's mind that he was indeed Armulyn the Bard. The people sat enthralled as he sang the
Ballad of Lanric and Rube,
1 and Janner and Tink found themselves pushing down tears as they listened to the tragic tale. After that he sang another for the rapt audience, then another, until the sun sank westward and the light grew golden, lengthening the shadows across the lawn.

As if the bard somehow knew, he ended his final song just moments before the sound of a low horn tore through the dusking air. Armulyn smiled widely and the many listeners gasped with excitement.

“The dragons,” Janner said, grabbing Tink by his shoulders. Tink smiled back at him with his sticky, purple cheeks.

“Let's go,” Tink said. “We have to find a good seat.”

“Come on, Leeli!” Janner yelled, turning to go. People in the crowd were pulling one another to their feet and surging back toward the town. “Leeli?” Janner repeated, turning around when she didn't answer.

But Leeli was gone.

Janner told himself to calm down. The same thing had happened earlier. She couldn't have gone far. She had just been there on the lawn, rubbing Nugget's belly, hadn't she?

“Leeli Igiby!” he called, turning in every direction. People were everywhere, jostling the boys as they moved past.

“Out of the way, boy,” said an old man with a cane, holding his pants up to his chin as he pushed by. The Torrboro women's wide dresses rustled past Janner and Tink, tugging them this way and that. Then a boisterous cluster of Dugtowners appeared like a wall before them. Janner found himself ducking under elbows and diving between legs, and twice he tripped over the Torrboro women's flopping, pointy shoes.

Tink was nowhere to be seen, but Janner knew he was near because of the shouts of surprise and the cursing coming from his left. Janner worried that the Fangs might be drawn to this new commotion, but to his relief the crowd finally thinned and he saw that the Fangs were gone.

“That was almost fun,” Tink said, brushing himself off. Janner spun around and grabbed Tink by his collar.

“There's nothing fun about this, Tink. Do you realize that she could be hurt? She could have been snatched up by a Fang, or killed by one!
We have to find her.
” Janner glared at his brother. Was Tink really so foolish that he didn't realize how bad their situation was? As worried as he was for Leeli, Janner was also thinking of his own skin. What would Podo do when he found out that Janner had failed in his duty? How would he live with himself if something actually happened to his sister?

Tink flung Janner's hands from his shirt and backed away. He looked around Dunn's Green at the remaining people folding up their blankets and gathering their belongings for the walk to the cliffs. It finally sunk in for Tink that their situation was dire, and he put his hands to his mouth, turning in all directions, to yell over and again, “Leeli!”

Podo had taught them that if ever they were separated they were to meet at the last place they had all been together. Surely Leeli would be waiting for them innocently with Nugget in her lap once the rest of the throng had cleared.

“She must be right around here, Tink. I know she was here with Nugget just a few minutes ago.” Janner scanned the lawn with a hand on his forehead.

Tink didn't answer. His eyebrows were scrunched together and he was wringing his hands, calling her name with a tremble in his voice.

“She'll be fine, you'll see,” Janner said, trying to sound optimistic.

Tink and Janner called for her until the crowd was nearly dispersed, but still she was nowhere to be seen. Janner asked the stragglers if they'd seen a little girl, but they answered only with irritated looks; they were far more concerned with sea dragons than these pesky little kids. Finally, Janner and Tink stood alone on the lawn in the fading light.

Little Leeli Igiby was gone. The brothers looked at one another, unable to speak, unsure of what to do. Then a sound came faintly to their ears from the direction of the town—a sound that deepened their fear to terror and set them running as fast as they could run.

A dog was barking, and someone, a little girl—Leeli!—was screaming.