In the waning light of day, Vincent saw Edgar scaling down the side of the cliff and wondered with utter astonishment how anyone could have made it so far—and why they might have come to begin with. He had no way of knowing how old the figure was, but he wrongly assumed it to be a man who was either bringing trouble with him or who was in some trouble of his own. He proceeded with great caution, unsure of whether or not the greater threat were the creatures he was stalking or this unknown person making his way down to the Flatlands.
After Edgar’s spectacular fall, it crossed Vincent’s mind to let the creatures do away with the intruder, but it was not in Vincent’s nature to permit such a cruel act. And then there was the matter of the creatures themselves, who were prone to losing all sense of direction in the dark—there was no telling whether or not their gruesome mouths would stumble onto Edgar. It would be best to keep with the plan. He would kill the four beasts first—and then he would deal with the fallen body.
The four beasts were what Vincent called Cleaners. There will be plenty of time to talk more of them later, for they are terribly important dwellers of Atherton. For now we must remain uneasy in the presence of these beasts, each about the length of two grown men, with a great many legs and teeth that rattle like broken bones.
Vincent had killed Cleaners many times before, but he had to be careful not to make a mistake, or there could be quite a lot of trouble. He used a long spear with a very sharp point, but even so, he always waited until it was almost dark to do his ghastly work.
What made it possible to attack a Cleaner without daylight was the fact that these creatures, while dreadful to look at and vicious in the extreme, were rather stupid in just about every way imaginable. They may have been very fast on their many legs, but they weren’t smart enough to change course when a spear was pointed right at their throats, and on they’d charge, crooked teeth flying toward him at ferocious speed, until they were skewered clean through.
There are three things a hunter must remember when encountering Cleaners:
1: WITHOUT A SPEAR, THERE’S ALMOST NO CHANCE OF SURVIVING AN ENCOUNTER WITH A PACK OF CLEANERS. NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT AT LEAST ONE SPEAR TIED TO YOUR BACK, TWO IF YOU CAN MANAGE IT.
2: NEVER ATTACK MORE THAN ONE CLEANER AT THE SAME TIME. IF THERE ARE THREE OR FOUR, THEY WILL ALL COME AT ONCE FROM DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS. WHILE YOU MIGHT KILL ONE OR TWO, THE OTHER ONES MAY EAT SOME PART OF YOUR BODY THAT YOU’D ALMOST CERTAINLY PREFER TO KEEP. IT’S BEST TO LURE THEM APART, AND THEN ATTACK THEM ONE BY ONE.
3: IF YOU DETECT THEM FROM FAR OFF—AND THIS IS COMMON, FOR THEY ARE VERY LOUD ABOUT THEIR BUSINESS—STALK THEM QUIETLY UNTIL NIGHT, FOR THEY HAVE TERRIBLE SIGHT WHEN THE WORLD GOES DARK. CLEANERS ALSO HAVE TROUBLE HEARING, FEELING, AND SMELLING AFTER DARK, FURTHER INCREASING THE ODDS OF SUCCESS.
Vincent had followed each of the rules, and so he had no trouble at all slaying the first two Cleaners. He simply walked up to them and put the spear through their open mouths. Unfortunately for Vincent, by the time he got to the third one it had gotten darker, and as a result his margin of error had grown. When he thrust his spear, it glanced off to the right and only injured the Cleaner, causing it to thrash about with an earsplitting shriek.
This startled both the remaining Cleaner and Edgar, the latter of whom woke up and began making a lot of noise of his own. First there was a shout and then cries of pain, which Vincent as sumed were the result of the fourth Cleaner eating one of the climber’s legs or arms. Vincent became alarmed when he heard Edgar’s voice, aware for the first time that it was a boy and not a man who had fallen into the Flatlands. If the boy were in serious trouble with a Cleaner, which it appeared that he was, Vincent would never forgive himself. A meddling man from above was one thing, but an innocent boy was something entirely different and unexpected.
Vincent flew into action. It was dangerous work because the injured Cleaner flopped on the ground violently in every direction, the teeth searching for something to latch onto, but he quickly finished off the third Cleaner with a series of brutal blows to the head.
The last of the Cleaners had moved off a little and had become still in the darkness. Vincent listened carefully for the sound of teeth grinding and chattering. The beast was looking at him, though it could not see. It was instinctively chomping its teeth in the air to protect itself.
“What is that thing?” It was Edgar, who had jumped up and moved behind Vincent in the dark. The sound of Edgar’s voice sent the Cleaner charging toward them, and Vincent had to act quickly to stop it.
“Hold onto that question for a moment, if you would,” said Vincent, pushing Edgar away. “I can’t let this one escape.”
The Cleaner charged past and turned, wasting no time in a second attack. This time Vincent was ready, and when the sound of breaking bones came directly at him, loud and fast, he aimed, thrust, and finished the last of the Cleaners.
At last Vincent could turn to face Edgar. In the darkness he could barely make out the boy’s features, though he could see his eye was swollen as though he’d been hit.
“How did you get down here?” asked Vincent. He looked up toward Tabletop in wonder. “It’s impossible. No one’s ever done that before.”
Edgar sat down with exhaustion. The stump where his pinky used to be was pulsing with pain, but his shoulder bothered him even more.
“You didn’t make it here in one piece,” said Vincent. “When did you lose the finger?”
At first, when Edgar had seen Vincent fighting the Cleaners, the man had seemed wild and violent. But now Edgar saw that Vincent had a kind face. Beneath the hooked nose, in the darkness, Edgar could make out a thin but earnest smile.
Edgar told Vincent how he had fallen in the night, how his little finger had been torn free, and of his crippling shoulder injury. Vincent nodded knowingly.
“I can tell that the bone has been pulled from its socket. Will you let me have a look at it? I have certain skills that may be of some use.”
With Edgar’s approval, Vincent took the damaged arm in his hand and moved it slowly from side to side. Edgar cried out, but Vincent managed to get the arm up over Edgar’s head.
“Lie down, won’t you?” asked Vincent. Edgar was delirious with pain and fatigue, and he simply fell over onto his side. Vincent stood over Edgar and held the arm out straight, shifting it until he was satisfied it was in the right place and then, with sudden force and speed, he pushed down the arm. There was a loud pop, and Edgar screamed.
The shoulder was back in place, and Edgar had gone limp, which were the two things that Vincent had hoped for. The boy was feverish, he’d lost blood, and his body was seriously weakened from lack of food or water. He picked up Edgar, and it shocked him to realize how little the boy weighed.
“What are you doing down here?” Vincent wondered aloud, though he knew Edgar wouldn’t hear him. His eyes ran up the monstrous wall of rock leading to Tabletop, and then lowered to marvel at the boy in his arms. Vincent shook his head. Could he really have come all this way?
What followed was a long night journey in which Edgar remained asleep but alive in the arms of a man of the Flatlands, taking him to a place he could not have imagined.
CHAPTER
21
SIR EMERIK’S SURPRISE
Upon their return to the village, Briney, Charles, and Wallace were pleased to find a dozen children sitting on the ground in a circle around Isabel, each of them hard at work making slings. While they watched, two young boys approached from behind with bags full of black figs.
“We’ve made another nineteen slings in the past hour and we’re getting faster,” said Isabel. “They’ll work all night if they have to, won’t you?” She gazed at the group around her and they all nodded. A tiny boy who couldn’t have been more than five walked into the circle carrying a handful of leathery squares.
“Twenty more rabbit skins for you,” said the boy, pleased with his progress. He handed them around the circle, and the children began
tying them to the braided ropes as Isabel had taught them to do.
“Can they work without you?” asked Isabel’s father, aware that hundreds of slings would be made in the night, perhaps more than they could find use for. He had picked up a sling to examine it. “It’s time we began training some of the adults how to use one of these.”
Isabel was pleased to comply and she left with the men, leaving the others of her age to gawk at the way she moved among adults in a time of danger.
All through the night, hundreds of people streamed into the grove from the Village of Rabbits and the Village of Sheep. Some spent hours dipping figs into water and dust with sheepskin sheaths over their hands, filling bag after bag with encrusted black stones. About a hundred learned to use a sling with reasonable skill under Isabel’s direction, while others took to wrapping a hand in rabbit skin for protection and practiced throwing the black figs.
When morning came, the villagers returned to their broken houses, everyone carrying a bag of crusted black figs and a sling or a rabbit skin. In the light of a new day, everyone could see how close the Highlands had come, so close that the majestic trees near the edge seemed like a wall of intimidating guardsmen just a fig’s throw away. The villagers had agreed to take shelter under the rubble of their homes. If they needed to go outside, they were instructed to act as though they were feeling ill. But it was hard not to look up with awe at the ruling land they’d never known.
In the Village of Sheep, Wallace worried over his animals, as shepherds often do. It was a green place at the foot of the cliffs, sleepy and peaceful. The trembling had become so constant that his animals didn’t seem to notice it any longer. It was the only place outside the grove where grass was allowed to grow. But still he paced back and forth, scratching his hairy red belly, calming the animals with his gentle voice.
“Don’t you worry now,” he said. “I won’t let anything bad happen. I’ve learned to use a sling. I can protect you.” He drifted into a silent meditation, waiting for the Highlands to arrive.
Lord Phineus felt a certain unease as the morning broke, and he looked down over the edge of the Highlands. Since last evening, the fall had progressed even faster than he’d imagined, and so he was glad to have gone about his business at the three waterfalls in the night. Everyone would get their cup of water as the sun rose and he would command them in their illness to stay back. It would give him time to impose his will on a changed world. These thoughts eased his mind as he moved away from the edge.
He, Sir Emerik, and Sir Philip were stationed somewhere between the Village at the Grove and the Village of Rabbits, and all three of them were sitting atop horses, something with which Sir Emerik was exceedingly uncomfortable. He had never liked horses very much and hadn’t taken the time to learn how to ride in the same way that Sir Philip had. It annoyed Sir Emerik immensely to look over at Sir Philip and see him in command of his steed.
“We are fully prepared, then?” asked Lord Phineus.
“Yes. Absolutely prepared, sir,” replied Sir Philip. Sir Emerik reeled around on his horse in an effort to get closer to the two of them but quickly found that he was facing the wrong way, and the butt of his animal got the better position. The scabs and missing hair on his head made him look even more ridiculous.
“Get off the horse, Sir Emerik,” said Lord Phineus. “If you can.”
Lord Phineus was in an uncommonly jolly mood as he conferred with his men. He seemed content astride the animal, about to come face-to-face with a world that had previously been beneath him.
Sir Philip proceeded to give a last assessment of the strategy he would employ while Sir Emerik dismounted and held the reins on his horse, glad to be on two feet again.
“There are forty men on horses above each of the three villages,” he began. “They are trained in the use of a spear and have been instructed to attack at the slightest provoca tion, Lord.”
“That’s all very well,” said Lord Phineus. “But you may discover I’ve already subdued them for you.”
Sir Philip appeared puzzled. “In the event they are not subdued upon our arrival, my men will handle them without difficulty.”
Lord Phineus nodded his approval, though he was hopeful the precautions would not be necessary.
“They’ll be begging for water soon,” said Sir Emerik from the ground, observing the low water levels above the falls.
But Lord Phineus was not listening to Sir Emerik. “At times like this I almost wish we had shown them how to read. This would have been so much easier if we could have sent a note, don’t you think?”
The dark humor troubled Sir Philip but seemed not to bother Sir Emerik.
“To your posts, then,” said Lord Phineus. “When we’re close enough for them to hear, we must tell them that their lives will not change. They are still our subjects and they will remain in their villages, or else pay a heavy price.”
Lord Phineus would give the instruction to those in the Village at the Grove, Sir Philip to those in the Village of Sheep, and Sir Emerik would do the same in the Village of Rabbits. Sir Emerik was glad to be already halfway to his post without much more riding ahead of him.
“Sir Philip,” said Sir Emerik. “Might I get a bit more instruction on the keeping of this beast before you go off?”
“Give the man some help, Sir Philip,” Lord Phineus told him. “Stop and see me as you pass to the other side. I may have more for you to do.”
Lord Phineus kicked his horse and galloped away. Seeing him majestically astride the charging animal gave him the aura of an even greater power that sent a shiver down Sir Emerik’s spine.
When Lord Phineus was gone, Sir Philip turned to Sir Emerik. “How you could have waited until now to master the simple skill of riding a horse is beyond me.” Sir Philip shook his head in disgust. “Quickly now! You’ll have to get on first if you want me to help you.”
“I have a better idea,” said Sir Emerik. “Why don’t you come down here. I have something I want to discuss with you. Something private.”
Sir Philip came down from his horse, at once exasperated and intrigued by Sir Emerik’s invitation.
“You’ve done a fine job putting this all together, Sir Philip,” complimented Sir Emerik. “Very impressive, I must say.”
The feeling was not mutual. Sir Philip wanted nothing more than to be rid of Sir Emerik. Seeing him sitting on a horse with his hair burned off only confirmed his suspicion that the man was a fool and didn’t belong in the inner circle at all. Sir Emerik was quickly losing respectability, and soon he would be on the outside looking in.
“What is it you have to say, Sir Emerik? We have important business to attend to and I must be getting on.”
“I have some information that I think you might find interesting,” Sir Emerik offered.
They were still a hundred feet above the ground of Tabletop, and Sir Emerik beckoned Sir Philip to walk with him nearer to the edge. Sir Philip followed, not entirely willingly, but his interest had been piqued. The two men stood very close to the edge of the Highlands, only a few feet away.
“What kind of information do you have?” asked Sir Philip.
“When I was in the village just yesterday, I found the boy Edgar and the missing page.”
“You what?”
Sir Emerik carefully followed the script he’d made in his mind. “Sir Philip, you and I both know that Lord Phineus is simply too powerful. You will never be able to surpass him, nor will I. But together we could bring him under our control. Or better still, we could move him aside.”
Sir Philip was unmoved. He realized then that the poor man had become desperate for power he could never have. Unseat Lord Phineus? It was unthinkable, and it was outright madness coming from someone as inept as Sir Emerik. But Sir Philip was a clever man, and he sought to use the situation to his advantage.
“What have you learned that Lord Phineus couldn’t already know?”
This is perfect, thought Sir Emerik. He is even more a f
ool than I imagined.
“First, you must swear that it is you and I, then, against the one man. Am I right?”
Sir Philip nodded, but he gripped the spear in his hand tightly, prepared to take Sir Emerik prisoner the moment the treachery was complete.
“I read the missing page, and I know where the boy went.”
Sir Emerik held back from telling more, for suddenly he felt sure that Sir Philip would betray him. There was something in the man’s eyes and the way he held his hand on his spear. For his part, Sir Philip’s cleverness was no match for Sir Emerik’s powers of perception—and he had underestimated his opponent in the matter of ambition.
Sir Emerik leaned his shoulder out over the edge.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Sir Philip.
“That noise from down below. They are right beneath us!”
Sir Philip made the catastrophic error of turning to look below, and for a split second his watchful eyes were not on Sir Emerik. It was then that Sir Emerik moved swiftly behind him and pushed Sir Philip with a sudden, vengeful force of strength. Sir Philip’s eyes grew wide with shock. He managed to swing his spear towards Sir Emerik as he tried to catch his balance, teetering on the very edge of the Highlands. But it was too late. Sir Emerik lunged once more, and Sir Philip fell backward into the open air.
Sir Emerik watched as the body careened off the cliff, Sir Philip’s limbs thrashing ghostlike in the wind until he slammed into the ground at the bottom.
Now there is only one to contend with, and I shall reach the very top.
Sir Emerik gathered himself, went about the tricky business of getting on his horse, and rode away toward his post, where he would find forty men waiting for him.
CHAPTER
22
AN OLD MAN WITH DROOPY EARS