The Dark Planet

  "Really?" said Edgar, inspired by Landon's enduring spirit

  despite the fact that Edgar knew that Dr. Harding could never

  come back.

  Landon nodded. He looked at Aggie for approval but Aggie

  wouldn't look back. Her gaze was fixed on Edgar.

  "Do you think the story is true?" she asked hesitantly.

  Edgar looked at all three of them. The green team. How quickly

  he had come to admire and love them. They were so much

  stronger and more full of courage than he was. They'd lost

  every thing and been left for dead, but they still hoped for the

  best.

  "You're not going to believe me when I tell you this," said

  Edgar. "You really won't, but I promise from the bottom of my

  heart that Atherton is real. And the story gets a lot better."

  And then Edgar told them every thing. He told them about the

  making of Atherton, about Dr. Kincaid and Vincent, about

  Cleaners and a collapsing world. He told them all about Dr.

  Harding and what had really happened to him, how he had

  transformed into Lord Phineus and back again, how all that he

  had made was part of a grand and wonderful story that had led

  Edgar back to the Dark Planet. He told them who he was--made

  by Max Harding and hidden away in the grove on Atherton. He

  told them every thing and they hung on every word.

  "After I landed here in the Raven I didn't know what to do. I only

  wanted to find the Silo, to see where my father--well, my maker,

  I suppose--to see where he had grown up. And now I've found

  you all and I couldn't possibly leave you here in a million

  years."

  "Wow!" said Landon. "Wow! Wow! Wow! This is, like, the best

  day ever!"

  "Calm down, Landon," said Teagan. But she was just as

  excited on the inside as he was. And Aggie was, too.

  Something good was happening to her and her friends, and her

  heart felt alive with excitement as it never had before.

  "What about Gossamer? Did you see the black dragon on

  Atherton?" asked Landon, wide-eyed.

  "I don't know about any black dragon," said Edgar. He wasn't

  even sure what a dragon looked like. "But one thing you said

  makes me wonder if there really is a dragon. Dr. Harding didn't

  like anything that could fly, so if he were to make a dragon, I'm

  not sure it would fly like you say."

  Landon beamed. "Well, sure, he'd fly! Every dragon flies. He's

  there, I know he is. We need to get to Atherton so I can find him.

  I'm going to find the black dragon!"

  Aggie started to cry, then she started to laugh. Pretty soon she

  was doing both at once and she couldn't for the life of her get

  any words out. Before long the laughter was gone and it was

  only tears and quiet sobbing. She slouched along the green

  leaves.

  "What is it, Aggie?" said Teagan. "Why so sad?"

  Aggie wiped the last of her tears away. "I wish you could have

  come sooner."

  Aggie wouldn't say why, but it was obvious to everyone that she

  had lost her family along the way and it had left her filled with

  grief, until now.

  "I'm sorry," said Edgar, feeling the weight of the world on his

  small shoulders. "But I'm here now--and Aggie, the story is true.

  It's not a fairy tale after all. Max was real and he really cared.

  The story's not over yet," Edgar concluded. "It couldn't have

  come to the end without you three in it."

  Aggie smiled weakly. Teagan wrapped an arm around her.

  "Aggie, we can do this," she said. "I really think we can. You

  just have to believe."

  Aggie took a deep breath of dusty air and let out a small but

  meaningful cough. She looked very tired to Edgar and he

  thought they should get her to bed. But she smiled despite her

  fatigue.

  "We have to make sure Red Eye and Socket don't find out

  about this," she said. "And there's not much time. We only have

  tomorrow and..." She paused and glanced at her friends.

  Everyone knew what awaited Edgar and Vasher--the

  passageway of lies.

  "Do you have some sort of plan, Edgar?" Aggie asked.

  "I didn't until I found this," he said, taking the folded piece of

  paper from Vasher's bunk out of his pocket. "It's from Max. He

  left it for us a long time ago so we'd find it."

  "No way!" said Landon. "I found that!"

  Landon's energy cleared all the sadness out of the air, and the

  four of them gathered in a circle as Edgar unfolded the paper. It

  was a remarkably intricate drawing of certain parts of the Silo

  and Station Seven with a dense clutter of numbers, symbols,

  and words. Edgar couldn't read the words, but he didn't tell

  anyone as Aggie turned the paper and read.

  "I can't believe he wrote this when he was--what do you think?

  Our age?"

  She exchanged a glance with Teagan, her constant

  companion.

  "All I know is this means we might be able to leave the Silo

  together," said Teagan, who was a hundred and seventy days

  younger than Aggie, which meant Aggie was supposed to leave

  the Silo first. "And that makes me very happy."

  The two girls held a lingering smile while Edgar and Landon

  continued to examine the elaborate map and all the symbols.

  "What do you suppose this is?" asked Edgar. He was pointing

  to a cryptic diagram that showed a square-shaped object

  surrounded by tiny dots exploding in every direction. There

  were two words inside the square no one had ever heard:

  "Hugin" and "Munin." Below the box was a long line of dots in a

  row that led to a small drawing of a boy's face. Could it be

  young Max Harding? Edgar didn't know. Below the boy's face

  were the words "Hugin will come if you call him."

  "That's some weird stuff," said Landon.

  Aggie was focused on the intricate drawing of passageways

  and chambers in the Silo and Station Seven.

  "One thing is for sure," she said. "We need to follow this map."

  Soon a plan was formed, one more vine game was played in

  which the girls won again, and everyone returned to their beds

  for a few hours of much-needed rest.

  CHAPTER 19THE WIDEST RIVER

  Gossamer was a surprisingly agreeable companion for the

  many hours that Isabel and Samuel traveled down the winding

  path of the yards during the night. Now and then Gossamer

  would reach one of his great claws into a hole and pull out a

  squirming Pythid, burn it until crispy, and then drop it in his

  mouth and continue on.

  The two children made a startling discovery about Gossamer

  when, after several more hours of trudging along, Samuel

  began to tire of the long journey.

  "How long have we been at this?" he asked. Samuel's feet

  were aching and he'd more than once bumped up against sharp

  ledges and outcroppings of stone. He didn't want to be the first

  to complain, but it was becoming difficult to hold out against

  Isabel's dogged determination.

  "What does it matter?" said Isabel. "We've got a ways to go and

  no one's going to carry us to the end."

  "Are you sure about
that?" asked Samuel. He'd been

  wondering for a while if there might be a way to ride atop

  Gossamer, but the many inhospitable black spikes that covered

  the beast from head to toe made it seem completely out of the

  question.

  But then the dragon had fluttered its small wings. They were

  webbed like bat wings and smooth like a hammock between

  thin bones, and certainly too small to ever lift Gossamer's

  weight. At the ends were more spikes, wide at the base and

  curved to a point.

  "Look there," said Samuel, watching Gossamer spreading out

  and shaking his wings again. Samuel felt a little sorry for the

  creature and wondered why Dr. Harding had made it so, but

  Gossamer didn't seem to mind. He sniffed and licked at the

  wings, as if they were a cherished oddity he couldn't quite

  understand.

  "What if we sat on his wings? Then he could carry us."

  Isabel looked long and hard at Samuel. "I should have

  expected this."

  "Expected what?" said Samuel, but he already knew by the

  tone of her voice that he was in trouble.

  "That you'd start complaining."

  "But I'm not complaining! I'm just saying it might work, that's all.

  It would be easier than walking."

  "Face it, Samuel," said Isabel, off and moving again when she

  saw that Gossamer, looking curious, was about to come back

  and join them. "You're from the Highlands. People from up there

  grow tired pretty fast."

  It was times like these that Samuel wished he had been raised

  in the grove with Isabel and Edgar. They both had a certain kind

  of stamina and mind-set that eluded him. He'd never spent a

  long day in the clutches of manual labor, tired by noon with six

  or seven hours to go whether he liked it or not.

  He chased after Isabel and, catching up, made his decision.

  "Walk if you want, but I'm giving it a try."

  Isabel shook her head in disbelief.

  "Could you stop a moment?" Samuel called out to Gossamer. "I

  want to ask you something."

  Gossamer swung his tail to one side and its spiky surface

  crashed against rocks where it sparked blue and red. His head

  turned to Samuel and the awe-inspiring face stared him down.

  Gossamer's expressive eyes opened wide, and the sea of

  blackness surrounding them--the eyelids, the nose, the teeth

  and tongue--made the brilliant blue eyes sparkle all the more.

  "Could I ride on one of your wings?" said Samuel.

  Isabel tried to hide her amusement, but let a peal of her

  infectious laughter slip out. Even Gossamer couldn't resist it. He

  first smiled with his smooth black lips, then opened his mouth

  and made a sound that came from somewhere way down deep

  in his throat.

  Samuel felt Gossamer's hot breath and feared for his life. What

  if he blows fire all over me? But he needn't have worried.

  Gossamer's laugh came from a different place than his raging

  plumes of fire.

  Samuel pointed to one of Gossamer's wings. He flapped his

  arms and then held them out. Gossamer so loved children he

  would do anything they commanded. And he was a smart

  dragon, made by a very smart man. He could understand a

  great deal without much prompting.

  Gossamer turned his body away from Samuel and Isabel and

  leaned back, letting his leathery wings unfurl on the ground in

  front of them.

  "You've got to be kidding me," said Isabel. "He understands

  you."

  "More importantly, he's going to let us ride! Come on, Isabel.

  Why not ride if he wants us to?"

  Isabel shrugged. The idea of riding Gossamer had gotten under

  her skin and now she wanted to try it.

  "I'll take the left one," she suggested. "You take the right."

  Samuel made a little hooting sound of excitement and started

  for the assigned wing, careful to avoid touching any of the

  spikes at the bottom or the top. When he stepped on, Gossamer

  made a chirping noise as though happy to have someone

  aboard.

  Samuel got down on his knees and then lay down and rolled

  over, facing the ceiling of the wide-open passageway. "This is

  great!" he cried. "You're going to love it. It's better than your bed

  back home!"

  Isabel had to agree as she crept onto the wing and lay down. It

  was soft and warm, cradling her protectively. She couldn't see

  Samuel on the other side of Gossamer's hulking frame, but she

  heard him just fine.

  "Carry on, Gossamer!" he commanded. "Straight down the path

  of the yards until we reach the end."

  Gossamer knew the way. There were side channels that led

  into the open expanse inside of Atherton, but the way of the

  yards was straight and true.

  Riding Gossamer's wings felt like lying on the bottom of a small

  boat adrift on a rolling sea. The dragon's chest heaved slowly in

  and out, rumbling like a softly snoring giant of the woods. The

  effect was calming and soon the chatter between Isabel and

  Samuel became thin and wispy. And then both were fast asleep

  on Gossamer's wings as he made his way down, down, down

  into the deepest part of Atherton.

  When the two awoke neither of them could figure out where

  they were or what was happening to them, enveloped as they

  were in the wings of the black dragon.

  "Samuel?" said Isabel, half whispering as she tested the sound

  of her voice in the air. She'd awoken when Gossamer had

  stopped without warning. Samuel didn't have time to respond,

  for Gossamer reared up slowly and planted the back sides of

  his wings on the ground. Both Samuel and Isabel glided down,

  coming to rest on their own wobbly feet.

  "Did we just...?" started Samuel.

  Isabel jumped and finished his thought. "Ride a dragon? I think

  we did!"

  With Samuel and Isabel safely set aground, Gossamer shook

  his wings and folded them in tight. He stretched his long spiked

  neck and wandered several paces off in search of food. He

  seemed to know this place as he went down a side tunnel that

  required lowering his head to lumber through. A moment later

  the tunnel was fil ed with glowing light, the sound of wind and

  fire, and finally the crunching of teeth.

  "He probably hasn't stopped to eat for a long time," said

  Samuel, stretching his hands toward the ceiling. Another burst

  of flame and wind arose from deeper down the side tunnel.

  "He could be a while," said Isabel. "Let's see the tablet."

  As Samuel pulled it out the pen and the firebugs came to life,

  the bottom half of the device glowing bright blue. He held it over

  the tablet so it was easier to see in the dim light.

  "We could be anywhere," said Isabel, seeing that the yards kept

  going, circling this way and that, until finally at some point the

  way on the map abruptly ended.

  "The chill of winter," said Samuel, running his fingers over the

  four words. He stood and held the pen up high, suddenly

  feeling certain that Gossamer had stopped not for hunger, but

  for finding the end of something
.

  "He knew the way and the way has ended," said Samuel.

  "What do you mean?" asked Isabel, but in the next moment she

  could see the answer all around her as light poured from the

  round opening of the side tunnel, where Gossamer was

  torching another Pythid.

  "Snowflakes," whispered Samuel. "Lots of snowflakes."

  Images of snowflakes were carved deeply into the stone ceiling

  and down the sides of the walls, the edges set in cold black

  relief.

  "What do you suppose is down there?" asked Isabel, glancing

  toward the end of their way.

  Gossamer had returned from his feast and gazed down at them

  tiredly. He had walked for many hours with a heavy load and

  eaten a big meal.

  "We can wait while you rest," said Isabel. The dragon seemed

  to understand what Isabel was saying. Gossamer sat back on

  his enormous legs and his eyes fell half shut as Isabel crept up

  to him.

  "Thank you for protecting us," she whispered, kneeling and

  touching the side of his massive black head. It was rough and

  hard like chiseled stone. Gossamer sighed deeply and drifted

  off to sleep.

  "Let's take a look down the way while he rests," whispered

  Samuel. "Maybe we can find the end on our own."

  Samuel put the tablet and the pen back in his pack and

  removed the small stash of water that remained. He handed it

  first to Isabel, who gulped down half, then took the leather

  pouch himself and finished it off. He shrugged at Isabel, put the

  empty pouch in his pack, and wondered where his next drink

  would come from.

  "Come on," said Isabel. "He's fast asleep. I get the feeling it

  won't be very far to the end."

  Samuel felt the same way as the two set off down the last part of

  the yards. It was wilder here, more jagged rocks and sharp

  beams of light shooting every which way.

  Up ahead, the way came to a wall. A hard turn to the left was

  the only direction they could go, and it didn't look big enough to

  allow Gossamer to pass through.

  "We can't go on without him," said Isabel. "I don't want to."

  "Let's just have a look," said Samuel. "We've come all this way.

  Don't you want to see what the chill of winter is?"

  Isabel looked back in the direction from which they'd come and

  wished Gossamer would wake up. When she turned back,

  Samuel had already gone.

  "Samuel! Wait for me." She took out her sling and filled it with a

  dried fig, holding it like a pendulum as the fig swayed near the