Rivers of Fire

  "Have you got what we need?"

  "I do indeed," said Vincent. He had been carrying a pack and two spears all along, but now he dropped the spears as if he planned to leave them behind. From the bag he removed a selection of weapons Edgar had never seen. One was a whip, long and leathery, which Vincent coiled in a circle and held in one hand.

  "He's quite talented with that," said Dr. Kincaid. "Sort of like you with the sling and the black figs."

  Edgar was so confused that he simply watched as Vincent held his bag in the same hand as the whip and put his other hand inside. When his hand emerged it clutched a magnificent

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  knife the likes of which Edgar had never seen or imagined. The blade was a foot long, made of something that reflected the weak light in the room.

  "What are you going to do with that?" said Edgar. "You can't get close enough to a Cleaner to use it."

  Vincent didn't answer but instead looked at Dr. Kincaid. "I'm ready," he said. "Open it up."

  "Open what up?" said Edgar. There was a deep ache in his forehead and it was making him irritable. He was growing tired of being kept in the dark.

  Dr. Kincaid stepped over the ivy-covered floor near the wall and removed the cover to Mead's Hollow.

  "We'll need light," he said.

  Vincent handed the knife to Dr. Kincaid and went into the outer hall without hesitation as Edgar approached the hole in the floor. He saw the words chiseled into the stairs leading down but could not read them.

  "It's called Mead's Hollow," said Dr. Kincaid. Vincent returned with a torch from outside and held it down into the dark passage. "It's here, beneath the House of Power, that we shall find Dr. Maximus Harding."

  Edgar was thunderstruck. "What's he doing down there?"

  Vincent uncoiled the whip in his hand, playing it back and forth on the stairs like a snake.

  "That's exactly what I've been wondering," said Dr. Kincaid.

  ***

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  From the moment the door to Mead's Hollow had been closed Isabel was unable to shake the feeling that she would never get back out again. It created a knot in her throat that would not leave, a knot that was telling her to cry and curl up into a ball in the dark where no one could find her. But Isabel forced the knot deeper down her throat, willing herself to go on.

  She and Samuel had been in Mead's Hollow for hours. At first there had been a steep switchback path surrounded by walls on every side. Down, down, down they'd gone, past the bottom of the House of Power and into Atherton itself. In the silence of her own thoughts Isabel wondered just how deep the Highlands had fallen into the middle of Atherton.

  There came a moment when the air turned cold and the space changed in tone. Without warning, their way went from confined to abysmally wide open. There was but one wall to lean their bodies against, and as Samuel held the flame out and away from it, the darkness seemed to go on forever. Isabel had the feeling that if she walked out into the open space it would swallow her up. And what was worse, there was an almost unbearable sensation that the whole world of Atherton was crashing in around her. She clung to Samuel, desperate to find a way out of Mead's Hollow.

  "How much farther?" she asked, her voice drifting softly in the wide open space.

  "We've got to be getting close," answered Samuel. "I can't imagine it being much farther."

  The two had followed the instructions that had been given

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  to Samuel by his father a long time ago, and Isabel was beginning to think Samuel had read them wrong.

  "Are you absolutely sure we're going the right way?" she asked. There was a part of her that had no idea why she was trying to find the source of water to begin with. It was a journey begun with a purpose, but the purpose was starting to feel a little beside the point. Even if they could find it and make the water flow once again, the Highlands were sinking, so what good would it do? And how would they ever get out?

  Samuel didn't answer Isabel. She'd already asked him the same question three times. The truth was, he wasn't at all sure. He only knew what his father had written down on the note, most of which he didn't think he should share with Isabel:

  -- Find the blue line and follow it. Never waver from the blue line.

  -- If you see the Crat, click your teeth fast and loud; it will keep them away for a while. This is a secret known to me alone.

  -- Do not allow yourself to be bitten by the Crat. A scratch can be overcome, but a bite cannot.

  -- If the Crat attack, you must not try to run. Put your back against the wall and fight them.

  "What about the yellow line?" asked Isabel, startling Samuel from his thoughts. He held the flame out from the wall of moist stone they walked beside. There, on the floor of rocks they walked along, was a line of yellow running off into the

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  darkness where they could not see. The air felt vast and open in that direction, as if it might go on for miles.

  "My father said to never leave the blue line," said Samuel. "Wherever the yellow one leads, I don't think we want to follow it."

  He brought the flame back in front of him and saw that it was waning. The sticky fuel supply, a substance like a glob of black mud at the tip of the torch, was growing smaller and wouldn't last forever. Soon it would be out, and then what would they do?

  "I think we should go back," said Isabel. She eyed the blue line on the wall, which snaked like a thin ribbon of translucent blue rock cutting through the wall at eye level. It would lead them out of this place.

  "We have to be close now," said Samuel. "My father said it would take a few hours, so it has to be ..."

  The sound of the Crat crept up on them like a shadow and Samuel was cut short. Eeeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeeek! There were three or four of them, and they were near. The Crat made a shrieking sound, though not very loud, like a tiny person with a head the size of an eyeball screaming. It was, strangely, a sound of bitter sadness, as if whatever were making the noise wanted not to kill them but to rub up against their legs and be picked up.

  Isabel and Samuel began slamming their teeth together in the air, opening their mouths as wide as they could, and the Crat seemed to stop. Samuel held the torch out, putting his back up against the wall, and peered into Mead's Hollow. He

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  saw something move, darting across his line of sight and then back into the dark where it was lost. Whatever it was had a very long, hairless tail and black eyes that shone in the firelight.

  Isabel was surer than ever that they should turn back. It would take hours to follow the blue line out of Mead's Hollow, but at least they knew the way. She dreamed of going back to her parents, to the grove, to her life the way it had been before Atherton started crashing in on itself. But she also knew that none of these things were possible. Even if she could get out of Mead's Hollow, she was still trapped in the Highlands, and even if she could find a way out of the Highlands, there was still no water in the grove.

  "Why are we doing this, Samuel?" she asked. "Do we really think we can find the source of water? And what if we do? What difference will it make?"

  Samuel didn't listen. There was something else occupying his every thought.

  "Look there," he said, pointing into the darkness. There was a dot of light, flickering but steady. It was not moving. "What do you think that is?" asked Samuel.

  "Maybe it's the source of water. There might be a door by that light."

  Samuel held out the torch and looked at the ground before his feet. There was another yellow line leading out into the dark. In fact, there were many yellow lines, all leading away from the safety of the wall at their backs.

  "We can't go out there," said Samuel. "It's not what my

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  father said." He glanced at the wall again, saw the blue line leading on, and touched it.

  "But it's a light, Samuel. Something's over there."

  The two argued in whispers, but it was a quarrel they didn't need to have, for the l
ight began to move toward them. Soon it was noticeably closer.

  "Someone's down here," said Samuel. His voice was electric with fear.

  Isabel was naturally prone to acting on instinct in the face of oncoming danger, and she took out her sling. Her hands shook so violently that she had some trouble getting the black fig properly loaded.

  "It can only be two people," said Samuel. He was afraid to even say their names, but he whispered them anyway. "Sir Emerik and Lord Phineus."

  The sound of the Crat started filling the air, as if a great many of them were surrounding the approaching light. The flame began to twirl around in a circle, and Samuel could only imagine that whoever was out there was trying to keep the Crat from biting them. They could hear the sound of the flame swishing through the open space.

  "Hello, Samuel." The cold voice of Lord Phineus came from a few feet away.

  Suddenly, the torch was ripped from Samuel's hand and a blade poked playfully at his chest. Isabel screamed. She had not screamed in a very long time, and all the terror she'd felt came out at once as she beheld the twisted face of Lord Phineus in the

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  dancing flames. The scream echoed into the vast and powerful space.

  "Nobody can hear you," said Lord Phineus. "At least no one who can do you any good."

  Lord Phineus looked positively insane, the black point of the widow's peak on his forehead dripping with sweat over his pale face. His eyes were swollen and glistening.

  "What are you doing down here?" he asked. There was a strange sort of glee in his voice.

  The sound of the Crat grew nearer, and Samuel could hear Sir Emerik in a rage trying to drive them away.

  "Back! Back, I tell you!" Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek!

  It was horrible to listen as Sir Emerik approached, but Lord Phineus seemed unaware of the chaos around him.

  "I asked you a question," he said, pushing the tip of the dagger harder against Samuel's chest. "What are you doing down here?"

  Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek!

  The Crat were nearly on top of them, and Isabel began banging her teeth together so violently it startled even Lord Phineus. He began to laugh like a madman, which gave the whole of Mead's Hollow a feeling of mayhem. It was a symphony of maddening noise in a place not accustomed to such a racket.

  As if to answer in reply, Atherton itself began to quake and shudder. It would not be outdone by mere mortals. Very soon the deafening sound of rushing water and crashing boulders

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  filled the air, and the floor felt as if it were being pulled out from underneath them in fits and starts.

  Meanwhile, Sir Emerik crawled clumsily toward the group, one hand swinging the flame all around him. But the Crat had gone away, and as Atherton settled into a dull, echoing roar, he looked up and saw Samuel.

  "You!" screamed Sir Emerik. "It's only you?"

  Sir Emerik looked at Lord Phineus, who had stopped laughing and was leaning heavily against the wall.

  "You sent me out there so we could catch two foolish children?"

  Allowing himself to be unguarded with no wall at his back turned out to be a bad decision for Sir Emerik. At that moment a Crat came from behind and leaped onto his back, clamping its teeth into him. He squirmed and shouted, waving the flame in every direction until the Crat was struck with the torch and released him.

  "I'll only ask you once more," Lord Phineus said to Samuel, unmoved by his companion's plight. "Why have you come here?"

  Samuel felt momentarily as helpless as he had when Lord Phineus taunted him in the House of Power. "We're looking for the source of water," he confessed, shaking.

  Everything had gone quiet. The Crat were gone and Atherton was at rest. Lord Phineus knelt down and put his face a few inches from Samuel's. White fluid dripped from Lord Phineus's nose, the end of a trail that started in the corners of his eyes.

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  "Then you will be pleased," said Lord Phineus. His eyes glared heavily at the boy. "The blue line stops here, Samuel. You've found what you came for."

  Lord Phineus hauled Samuel along the wall a few more feet and yelled behind him to Sir Emerik.

  "Seize her!"

  Sir Emerik took hold of Isabel and led her forward. He did not look well. What hair he had was matted grotesquely against his face. His eyes were bulging--not as much as Lord Phineus's were, but bulging nonetheless. And the terrible twitch remained, jolting in the firelight.

  The men dragged Samuel and Isabel along until they arrived in front of a door. The door was of average size top to bottom and side to side, but it had a feeling of thickness that could not be measured. There was a latch of a kind Samuel had never seen. Putting down his torch, Lord Phineus took hold of it.

  "You came looking for the source of water," said Lord Phineus. "You shall find something altogether different."

  He jerked the heavy door open forcefully. When the door was open far enough Samuel was thrust inside and Isabel thrown in behind him. Lord Phineus followed, for he had reason to want to see the boy's reaction to what would be found inside. But this was a disastrous mistake. The moment he entered, Sir Emerik slammed shut the door and locked the three inside.

  Every part of Sir Emerik shook with excitement. He had finally rid himself of Lord Phineus.

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  "No one remains! I am lord now, Lord Emerik, Lord of the Highlands!"

  But the truth was Sir Emerik had been bitten by the Crat, and his weak mind was already awash in madness. He heard a o familiar, quiet sound coming from the distance in Mead's

  Hollow.

  Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek!

  Sir Emerik touched the wall at his side and began running.

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  *** CHAPTER 13 THE SECRET AT THE SOURCE

  Sir Emerik ran until his breath was gone, and still he heard the sound of the Crat behind him. They were on him, and this time they would not relent. Ten, maybe more, huddled in close. They had been denied a victim among many opportunities for too long, and Sir Emerik felt a deep concern that this time the creatures would not relent.

  This was the first time Sir Emerik could really see the Crat. They were not as small as he'd supposed. The Crat were a full three feet long--five if you counted the hairless tail twitching behind--and powerfully built. They were black, which made them hard to see, but now it seemed that they wanted him to see them.

  If Sir Emerik had ever seen a large house cat or a common

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  city rat, he would have said the creature before him looked like both at once. This would have been correct, because that's exactly what the Crat were--a hybrid species dreamed up by Dr. Maximus Harding and left to roam Mead's Hollow. He'd had great hopes for the Crat but found them wild and unpredictable. And yet, as with so many of his creations, he could not bring himself to destroy the Crat. He preferred to hide his flawed inventions, and Mead's Hollow had seemed as good a place as any.

  Sir Emerik whipped the torch back and forth and managed to set one of the Crat on fire. He watched it roll and scream and smelled its burning hair. It reminded him of having his own hair burned off by Edgar, and for a moment he was distracted, letting down his guard.

  It was then he felt the pain. Looking down, he saw the Crat at his boot. Its long, sharp teeth had pierced the leather, and jaws that seemed capable of crushing gravel into dust were clamping down around his big toe. He kicked furiously and set the beast on fire with the torch, but it would not let go. It wasn't until Sir Emerik batted the creature repeatedly with the torch that it finally released him. He kicked the flaming animal out into the darkness and to his astonishment it ran off, rolling the fire off its back as it went, until he could see it no more.

  "Get back! Leave me alone!" he shouted. Having witnessed the man set fire to not one but two of the Crat, the creatures seemed to rethink their idea of taking him down. They screamed horribly but moved off.

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  [Image: MEADS HOLLOW.]

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  Sir Emerik felt a searing pain inside his boot, as if all of the skin had been torn off his toe. It was a pain that matched very closely that of the wound on the shin of his opposite leg. He had been bitten twice now.

  Sir Emerik heard the snapping sound of a whip from somewhere in Mead's Hollow. "Who could that be?" he muttered to himself. He looked toward the sound and saw light coming his way. "Maybe it's that Tyler come to find me. How long have I been down here?" Sir Emerik heard the whip cracking again. "Tyler!" he howled. "Tyler, I'm here, against the wall! Follow the blue line!"

  Sir Emerik felt suddenly better, as if he might escape Mead's Hollow after all. He remembered that he was in charge, that he was Lord Emerik now and would rule, if only he could get out. And then it was as if these indulgent thoughts of power were almost too much for him to bear and his head were swelled to overflowing. His brain felt full of a liquid rumbling, like it was turning wet and about to run out of his nose. He was slowly losing his mind.

  Eeeeeeeek! Eeeeeeeek! Snap! Snap! Snap!

  The Crat and the whip traded turns echoing through Mead's Hollow while Sir Emerik stood with his back to the wall, waiting for Tyler to find him.

  But of course it was not Tyler who came upon this broken man, but Edgar, Dr. Kincaid, and Vincent. Vincent cracked the whip several times for good measure, and what Crat remained scattered at this new threat.

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  "Who are you?" said Dr. Kincaid, gazing at Sir Emerik as if he didn't belong in Mead's Hollow. "Who let you in here?"

  Sir Emerik did not answer. His eyes lay heavy on Edgar, and he was consumed with one thought--to take the torch in his hand and set Edgar on fire. How could this terrible boy have climbed down in the Flatlands and yet be standing before him? Sir Emerik's face contorted with rage, and he lunged toward Edgar.