Edge Chronicles 6: Vox

by Paul Stewart

  With a cry, the white raven launched itself into the air and wheeled round, heading off towards the dark skies over the Edgewater.

  ‘Come, Rook,’ said Felix, pointing towards the walkway, his voice choked. ‘You have an appointment to keep.’

  Rook looked down from the balustrade and shuddered. On his sky-patrols, he was used to seeing the sluggish Edgewater snaking its way through the channels of mud. Tonight, however, it had grown so broad and so deep that it raged and frothed below him, threatening at any moment to pluck the support-beams away and hurl the whole jetty into the perilous waters.

  Sick with worry, Rook scanned the river, the bank, the raised walkways - everywhere-, desperate for some sign of the missing library fleet. Surely they should have made it by now¡ Gripping tightly hold of the balustrade, he leaned out, neck craned, scanning the curve of the river …

  ‘And they're all out there?’ asked Felix, the choking sound still in his voice. ‘The whole council? Varis…? And my father?’

  ‘Yes, said Rook. ‘The two of them were both in the fourth barge.’

  They looked out at the furious waters in silence. Above them, on the Mire Gates platform, the ghosts were organizing the Undertowners for the great exodus down the Mire Road. Felix looked over his shoulder, then back at the Edgewater. Beneath their feet, the jetty shuddered.

  ‘You know,’ he said, slowly. ‘We haven't got long, Rook. This jetty's giving way and the Mire Gates will follow. If we don't set off soon, we'll all be lost…’

  ‘Just a little longer,’ Rook pleaded. ‘After all, it's your sister and father out there, Felix. You're acting as if you don't care!’

  Felix looked down at his feet, the muscles in his jaw flexed and unflexed. ‘All I've ever wanted, he said quietly, ‘is for my father to be proud of me, Rook. And now, just when I might have proved myself to him at last, he is lost out there. Don't you think I want to wait longer?’ His fist slammed against the balustrade.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ said Rook. ‘It's just…’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Felix, clearing his throat. The jetty lurched again. Above them, shouts rang out and a group of ghosts marched down the walkway, escorting two struggling black-robed Guardians.

  ‘We found these two by the Mire Gates, Felix,’ the mobgnome ghost reported. ‘Shall we slit their throats and dump them in the Edgewater? It'd be kinder than letting the Undertowners loose on them.’

  The Guardians stopped struggling as Felix stepped forward and pulled down their hoods.

  Rook gasped. ‘Magda¡ And … Xanth!’

  ‘Release them, Lemlop,’ said Felix. ‘This one's got a flight-suit on beneath her robes - she's a librarian, you fool¡ And this one …’

  ‘I can vouch for him,’ Magda said boldly, her eyes flashing.

  ‘You can?’ said Rook.

  ‘He saved my life, Rook.’

  ‘Felix,’ said the mobgnome ghost urgently. ‘We've got to get out of here …’

  ‘I know, Lemlop,’ said Felix, turning to go.

  Reluctantly, Rook turned away from the balustrade, his head hanging. Magda fell into step beside him as they mounted the walkway to make their way back to the Mire Gates platform.

  ‘Rook, what's happened? Where is everybody?’ she said. There are rock demons loose in the sewers and a goblin army in the Great Library We were expecting to meet the library fleet here …’

  ‘I was, too,’ said Rook. ‘Oh, Magda … The librarians …’

  ‘Librarians¡ Librarians¡’ A cry went up. Above them, the crowd of Undertowners thronged the Mire Gates platform, shouting and pointing excitedly.

  Rook turned to follow their gaze. It's them!’ he exclaimed. ‘It's the Great Library Fleet¡ They've made it!’

  The first great barge rounded the bend in a flash of oars, a clatter of bobbing buoyant lecterns and the regular cries of the barge-master urging the librarians on. A white raven flapped above it, cawing loudly. The second barge came into view, followed by the third, the fourth, the fifth - and Rook saw that they had all been lashed together with long ropes.

  So typical of the librarians, he thought. All of them had to make it to safety - or none.

  Hurrying back down the rickety steps of the walkway, Rook raised his cupped hands to his mouth and bellowed across to the approaching barge. ‘Throw me your tolley-rope!’ he shouted. ‘Quickly, there isn't much time!’

  No reply came, but the barge shifted direction. It was heading straight for the jetty.

  ‘Stroke¡ Stroke¡ Stroke!’ The gruff cry of the barge-master echoed over the roaring of the water.

  The Ghosts of Screetown hurried down the steps onto the jetty and, as the fleet came alongside, they grabbed the coils of tolley-rope tossed to them and tied them securely to the mooring rings which lined the sides.

  One by one, the librarians disembarked. They looked utterly exhausted. Silent and dazed, their muscles throbbing with pain, they staggered onto the jetty, which threatened to collapse at any moment. As Fenbrus Lodd stepped out of the fifth barge, the wooden pillars set into the mudflats below creaked loudly and the landing-platform trembled.

  ‘Unload the barges!’ he roared, above the weary chorus of moans and groans. ‘As quickly as you can!’

  The librarians set to it, helped by the ghosts and a contingent of large cloddertrogs who, with their powerful bulk, made short work of the task. Rook, together with Magda and Xanth, who had discarded their black robes, tossing them contemptuously into the swirling waters of the Edgewater, all pitched in. As the final sky-craft and buoyant lecterns were being carried on to the Mire Gates platform, the jetty collapsed and disappeared, along with the empty barges, back into the inky blackness of Undertown.

  The whole council, flanked by Felix's ghosts holding burning torches, was now gathered in the centre of the platform. Tallus Penitax, the Professor of Darkness, stood beside Ulbus Vespius, the Professor of Light, and beside them, Varis Lodd. Cowlquape - looking older and more haggard than ever - sat in the centre, on an ornately carved trunk. Next to him stood the High Librarian, Fenbrus, his arm raised for silence.

  ‘My dear librarians!’ His voice had lost none of its power or authority. ‘Earth and Sky be praised we have made it this far. A long journey still lies ahead of us, but we are indeed blessed to be able to share its dangers with the good people of Undertown. And for this, we, and they, have to thank, the … errm … I believe they're known as … the Ghosts of Screetown¡ And their leader…’

  A huge cheer went up from the Undertowners as Felix stepped into the torchlight.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Fenbrus, ‘their leader, who is … What is your name, my brave young fellow?’ Felix's eyes met his father's.

  Fenbrus blinked. His mouth fell open … ‘Felix? …’ the High Librarian spluttered.

  Felix smiled, a look of eager anticipation on his face. He held out his arms to embrace his father.

  A tear trickled down the High Librarian's cheek. ‘I…I…I don't know what to say …’ His face coloured with embarrassment. He cleared his throat noisily and patted Felix stiffly on the shoulder. There was an awkward silence. Felix's face fell. Was that it? he wondered. The reunion he had, for so many years, both dreaded and longed for … A pat on the shoulder¡

  Varis rushed forwards and embraced her brother, but he didn't seem to notice, his eyes still fixed on his father's face - and a look of hurt and disappointment on his own.

  ‘My dear librarians, Undertowners and ghosts, Fenbrus's voice rang out, strong and clear, once more. ‘Our journey shall be long and difficult but, if we all work together and look out for one another, at its end we shall have earned the right to a fresh start, not as librarians, or Undertowners, or ghosts - but as Freegladers, one and all!’

  Rook joined in the chorus as, all around, Undertowners picked up their belongings, librarians shouldered backpacks and commandeered shryke wagons, and ghosts with flaming torches prepared for the long march down the Great Mire Road.

  Rook, Magda an
d Xanth fell in behind Felix. His dark expression suggested he didn't want to talk. They made their way silently towards the front of the mighty procession. As they pushed through the empty shryke tally-hut and out onto the Mire Road itself, Rook breathed in sharply with astonishment, then let out a cry of joy.

  Ahead of them, a short distance away, was Vox's bower, carried by his banderbear friends.

  ‘Weeg¡ Wuralo!’ Rook called. ‘Wumeru¡ Molleen¡ Weera-lowa. Wuh-wuh weega!’ Your burden is great. Let others take it now¡

  But something was wrong. The banderbears didn't respond to his yodelled greeting, but instead continued their slow, shambling march up the Mire Road.

  The curtains of the bower twitched. All's well, my friends, an icy voice sounded in Rook's head. Let us go on our way …

  Rook turned to Felix and grabbed him. There was a glassy look in his friend's eyes. ‘All's well, he was mumbling. ‘… Go on their way …’

  ‘NO!’ shouted Rook. He grabbed Felix's grappling-hook and threw it at the bower. It snagged on a wooden upright and Rook felt the rope pull taut as he lashed the other end to a Mire Road balustrade.

  The banderbears continued carrying the bower, straining against the rope until - with the sound of splintering wood - the upright came away. The bander-bears collapsed onto the wreckage of the bower, crushing the frame and snapping the carrying-poles in two. Rook came running up, followed by Magda, Xanth and Felix.

  ‘I don't know what came over me, Felix said, shaking his head.

  ‘I think I do, said Rook, ‘but I'm not sure I understand it. You see, this is the bower Cowlquape sent to carry Vox to safety …’

  The banderbears were clambering to their feet, shaking their heads in turn and yodelling softly.

  ‘Weega-wurra-loora,’ murmured Wumeru, her fingers fluttering. A dark forest dream has lifted like a mist.

  ‘Wuh-wuh, wugeera. Luh-weeg,’ added Molleen, with a shudder. My mind now comes back to me. Before are only windswept echoes.

  Rook patted the backs of the banderbears reassuringly. ‘Weg-weeg. Weegera, weera, wuh-wuh,’ he yodelled, and touched the tips of his fingers to his chest. Do not fear. No harm has come of your sleepwalking, friends of my heart.

  ‘Vox?’ came a querulous voice behind them. ‘Is that you, Vox? We kept our side of the bargain, yet still you planned to destroy us¡ Shame on you!’

  The frail figure of Cowlquape, followed by the High Council, marched forward to join them round the wreckage. Cowlquape stopped and looked from the banderbears to the bower and back again.

  ‘Oh, dear, he said, a smile coming to his lips. ‘There seems to have been an accident. Is anyone hurt? No? How about you, Vox?’

  Cowlquape pulled aside the length of heavy curtain that was covering a great quivering bulge. There, sitting cradling a dazed-looking ghostwaif in her massive fleshy arms, was the figure of Flambusia Flodfox.

  ‘Speak to me, Ambey, dear, she clucked. ‘Speak to me!’

  Rook walked over to the Mire Road balustrade and untied the rope. He looked back at Undertown, almost totally obscured by the terrible dark maelstrom. It was all over, he thought, but the heavy weight that had been pressing down on his chest for days seemed to have lifted.

  He was with his dearest friends again; Felix, Magda, the banderbears, even Xanth - and ahead lay the greatest adventure of his life.

  He gripped the balustrade tightly for a moment, his knuckles white. Was that the Palace of Statues crumbling in the distance?

  Relaxing his grip, he turned back to the others, a smile on his face. Undertowners, librarians and the Ghosts of Screetown filed past in an endless procession down the Mire Road. Rook's gaze followed them.

  ‘Freegladers,’ he murmured.

  ‘Amberfuce,’ said Vox, his voice barely more than a whisper as the awful truth dawned.

  ‘I gave him some of my special medicine, and he got Speegspeel to slip it in your oblivion, dearie.’ Hestera smiled. “Then he took your bower. Flambusia begged me to go with them, she said, T^ut I told them I'd rather stay, She smiled again, her face creasing up into unfamiliar folds. ‘I wouldn't leave you, my sweetness. Not ever.’

  The palace shuddered as yet another buttress crumbled into the surging torrent below. The whole west side of the building was now gone, and the wind and rain howled through the massive cracks opening up in the walls.

  ‘Betrayed,’ Vox murmured. He slumped to the floor and held his head in his hands. ‘Betrayed!’ A huge sob wracked his bloated body.

  Hestera crouched down beside him, and rested a hand tentatively on his arm. Above them, the ceiling cracked, and the dripping water turned to a steady stream. Vox's sobbing suddenly stopped. He looked up, his small eyes narrowed to mean, murderous slits.

  ‘You,’ he muttered. ‘You gave Amberfuce some of your special medicine

  ‘That's right, my sweetness,’ said Hestera, uncorking the bottle marked Oblivion: Special Vintage.

  ‘You mean,’ spluttered Vox, ‘you knew of his plans -and you didn't tell me!’

  Hestera grabbed Vox by one wobbling, fleshy jowl and squeezed with an iron grip.

  ‘Ooowwwl’ Vox screamed, his fat hands attempting to slap the goblin away.

  Of course I didn't tell you, my sweetness, Hestera crooned, jamming the bottle into Vox's gaping mouth.

  Vox's hands stopped flapping as Hestera held the glugging bottle firmly in place. His eyes dulled and closed; his head lolled to one side. The crack travelled from the ceiling, down the wall and snaked across the floor. The great chamber shuddered.

  It's what I've always wanted. A dream come true, Vox, my loverly,’ said Hestera, cradling his massive head in her apron and rocking gently from side to side. ‘You, my sweetness, all to myself.’

  A DAVID FICKLING BOOK

  Published by David Fickling Books

  an imprint of Random House Children's Books

  a division of Random House, Inc.

  New York

  Text and illustrations copyright © 2003 by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

  in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including

  photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval

  system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where

  permitted by law.

  Originally published in Great Britain by Doubleday, an imprint of

  Random House Children's Books, in 2003.

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  is available upon request.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-52275-7

  October 2005

  v3.0