Edge Chronicles 10: The Immortals
Page 48
‘Drink this, Father,’ she whispered, tears filling her eyes. ‘It comes from the Riverrise lake itself.’
Slowly she leaned towards him and, tilting the bottle, let a drop of water fall into his mouth between his parted lips. Then another. And another …
Behind Nate and Eudoxia, the others had crept through the open door and into the cabin. The Professor, Cirrus Gladehawk, Squall Razortooth, Weelum and Slip. They stared at Galston Prade, their breath held and eyes unblinking, while outside the gathering wind whistled round the moored vessel, tipping her from side to side.
The old man’s eyes rolled in his head.
Eudoxia’s green eyes were fixed on her father’s face. At first, he looked just as ill as he had before, his grey skin taut and drawn, his papery eyelids closed. But then, even in the dim glow of the phraxlamp, she saw something.
‘His lips,’ she whispered. ‘They’re …’
Nate nodded. Almost imperceptibly, Galston Prade’s thin lips were losing the metallic blue colour that had stained them and were suffused instead with a soft pink that, as Eudoxia watched, spread across her father’s face. His hollow cheeks filled out, the dark rings around his eyes grew paler and faded away completely as the colour returned to his grey lifeless skin. Around his sagging jawline and down his neck the flush of health spread. His jaw unclenched and the cable-like tendons in his neck were smoothed away. Inside the quilted blanket that swaddled his cadaverous body, his bony frame grew larger, broader, and his slumped posture became more upright. All at once, with a low grunt of effort, Galston Prade reached up and pulled the blanket away from him. His eyes slowly opened.
Eudoxia stared into them and, as she did so, she saw how the mist that had seemed to cloud them for so long was dissolving. And, by degrees, the eyes staring back at her began to fill with colour, turning from the pale phraxlung blue to a deep green, exactly the same shade as her own.
‘Eudoxia,’ he whispered, and when he spoke, the word was no longer accompanied by the deadly wisps of water vapour. Then Galston Prade climbed out of the sumpwood cot and straightened up.
‘It feels wonderful, doesn’t it?’ Eudoxia said. ‘It was the same for me, when Nate gave me the water of life.’
‘Yes, Eudoxia,’ said her father, grinning broadly. ‘Yes, it does feel wonderful!’
Eudoxia fell into his arms. ‘Oh, Father, Father,’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve missed you so much …’
Just then, a loud thud echoed through the Archemax as the wind caught her hull and sent the bow knocking hard into the mooring dock.
‘The wind’s picking up, by the sound of it,’ said Cirrus Gladehawk. ‘If we’re going to leave on this expedition of yours, Professor, then it should be soon.’
The Professor nodded. ‘Then let us set off,’ he said.
Nate turned to him. ‘Expedition?’ he said. ‘Expedition to where?’
• CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO •
Far below the Archemax, the phraxstorm had formed a great swirling wheel of cloud. Now it was whirling round and round above the Twilight Woods, drawn there by the phrax-laden air of the treacherous forest, the dark boiling clouds lit up by the golden glow of the woods beneath.
All at once, with a dazzling flash, a lightning bolt was disgorged by the storm and sent hurtling down into the woods.
‘Did you see that!’ said Eudoxia, pulling back and turning to her father, then to Nate, her eyes flashing with excitement as the air below resounded with deep rumbling thunder. ‘We’ve just witnessed the creation of stormphrax!’
The three of them were standing on the mid deck of the phraxship. Behind them was the covered helm, where Cirrus Gladehawk was keeping a steely grip on the flight levers, with Weelum beside him, the gusty wind ruffling his thick fur. Above their heads, the great phraxchamber throbbed, Slip the grey goblin using a long metal spike to keep the cooling plates free of ice. Above him, at the very top, Squall Razortooth – his open tool pouch at his side – had removed a chamber panel and was realigning a twisted buoyancy rod. Eudoxia gripped the starboard bow tightly and leaned forward again, peering down over the side at the lightning storm below.
‘That bolt of lightning will have solidified in the twilight air down there,’ said Nate. ‘Already it will be starting to bury itself in the earth as its tip becomes heavy in the darkness and drags the rest of the bolt down. It’ll sink deeper and deeper, breaking into a million shards, until one day,’ he said, turning towards Eudoxia, ‘a phraxminer will find a piece of it far below ground. He’ll break his back and risk his life digging it out …’ He stared down at the glowing forest. ‘Only for a crooked mine sergeant to pay him a pittance for it and ship it off to Great Glade.’
Eudoxia followed his gaze. ‘Where it is worth a hundred times more,’ she said softly. She turned and looked at Galston Prade. ‘Which is the basis of your fortune, isn’t it, Father?’
It was three weeks since the Archemax had set sail from Thorn Harbour. Three long weeks in which the travellers had crossed from one end of the vast Edgelands to the other, their captain, Cirrus Gladehawk, keeping the phraxship at full steam during their hours of flight as they had forged on against the incoming winds.
Twice, they had landed. The first time was to stock up on water, which they’d done at Four Lakes, filling the great tank that was housed below the aft cabins with water taken from the Mirror of the Sky. The webfoot goblins had clustered below the Archemax, marvelling at her clean lines and beautifully engineered phraxchamber, and asked Squall the sky pirate a thousand questions. Nate had wished they’d had time to stay longer, to explore the settlement that fringed the magnificent lakes and perhaps even visit one of the mighty clams that lived in their depths. But they all knew that the Professor wanted to press on to the Edge without delay, and this was his expedition.
The second time they’d landed was when a broad front of turbulent fog had rolled in, making accurate navigation impossible and forcing them down out of the sky. It was only when the fog finally lifted, two days later, they discovered that they’d moored near the settlement of Gorge Town, the scree huts and rambleshacks of the hairy-backed quarry trogs who lived there, clinging to the rocks like sky barnacles to a logbait.
They had been greeted warmly by these gentle giants, the shortest of whom was the size of Weelum, and been guests of honour at a feast held by the city elders. The trogs were eager for news of the world beyond their remote gorges, and they listened open-mouthed to Nate and Eudoxia’s account of the battle of the Midwood marshes. Despite the frequent fog storms and driving rain, Nate would have loved to stay in Gorge Town and visit the stalagmite forests in the dark caverns below the city. But once again, the Professor was anxious to forge ahead.
Now, the Deepwoods were behind them, and the Archemax was steaming towards the eastern tip of the Edgelands, where the mighty lip of rock jutted out into the sky beyond – and the mysterious cliff face plunged down into the darkness far below.
‘I owe my fortune to stormphrax, it’s true,’ Galston Prade said, plucking at the sleeves of his quarm fur-trimmed topcoat. He turned the carved fromp-head cane thoughtfully in his hand. ‘But it has also been the ruin of me,’ he said, and sighed. ‘And I don’t mean phraxlung, though Sky knows that was bad enough.’ He shook his head. ‘I learned to adapt, without even thinking. I got used to pausing to catch my breath halfway up every staircase I took. And I pretended that I enjoyed the leisurely strolls around New Lake that were forced upon me, telling myself that if I walked any faster, I’d miss the beautiful lake views. Though, of course, that option was never open to me …’
He reached out and took Eudoxia by both hands and looked deep into her eyes.
‘No, stormphrax has dominated my life in other ways,’ he said bleakly. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good father to you.’
‘Oh, Father,’ said Eudoxia. ‘You did what you could. You were a wonderful father to me – and it can’t have been easy for you when Mother died.’
‘And you, my da
ughter, are as kind and beautiful as she was,’ Galston said, gently squeezing Eudoxia’s hands. ‘But I allowed the Prade phraxmine to take over my life and the pursuit of stormphrax to poison my days, just as surely as the phraxdust ate away at my lungs. Now I must change.’
‘But I love you just the way you are,’ said Eudoxia, smiling through tears that she hadn’t even noticed gathering in the corners of her eyes.
‘Do you really, Eudoxia,’ he said gently, and let go of her hands. ‘I had a lot of time to think in the Gyle Palace in Hive. The closeness of death made me see everything differently. Felftis Brack, for instance …’
Eudoxia raised her eyebrows. ‘Him!’ she said, and snorted.
‘He was a rogue, of course,’ said Galston. ‘I knew that when I hired him. I’ve used unscrupulous ambitious characters like Felftis to build up the profits in the mine for years, no questions asked. You see, I was always strong enough to control them. They were crooks and swindlers, but they were my crooks and swindlers! Then phraxlung took over and I became weak, and Felftis saw his chance.’ He frowned, his face troubled. ‘But was I truly any better than him? Would it have made any real difference to those hardworking miners at the phraxface if one phraxmine owner had been replaced by another?’
He turned to Nate, who was standing looking down awkwardly at the deck, his hands deep in his breeches pockets.
‘Young Nate here risked his life digging for phraxcrystals in my mine, only to be swindled out of a fair price.’
Hearing his name, Nate looked up, to see Eudoxia frowning at him.
‘It … it wasn’t your fault, sir,’ he blustered, his cheeks flushing with colour. ‘It was that mine sergeant, Grint Grayle …’
‘Yes, Nate,’ said Galston, kindly but firmly. ‘But I appointed Felftis Brack, and he appointed Grint Grayle, who cheated and robbed you and the other miners. I could have done something to stop it – visited the mine, seen the conditions for myself. But I chose not to. Instead, I idled my time away in my mansion in New Lake, walking by the lake and organizing thousandsticks teams. It was easy for Felftis Brack to trick me into going to Hive, supposedly to recruit players. He knew I loved the game and how it took my mind off my other worries. I was a selfish, short-sighted old fool …’
‘But you were ill, Father,’ Eudoxia protested.
‘Maybe so,’ Galston Prade said. ‘But now, thanks to you both, I am well again, and things are going to change at the Prade mine. There will be no more flogging, no more withholding pay for petty offences – and no more phraxlung,’ he said. ‘No miner shall work at the phraxface for more than five, no four … for more than three years,’ he announced, bringing the end of his cane down sharply on the deck, ‘over which period of time, if paid a fair price for the crystals they mine,’ he went on, warming to his theme, ‘each miner will have earned enough to set himself up for a new life in Great Glade – a life which you and I, Nate, are in a position to offer him …’
‘Me?’ said Nate, surprised. ‘I’m just a lamplighter.’
‘A lamplighter who has inherited a phraxchamber works in Copperwood,’ said Galston Prade, pushing his greying hair back from his forehead. ‘It’s a simple proposal. Since I own the phraxmine and you own the phraxchamber works …’
He paused when he saw the puzzled look on Nate and Eudoxia’s faces.
‘You mean, you don’t know about Friston Drew’s will? But then, how stupid of me!’ he exclaimed. ‘How could you? We’ve all been so wrapped up in this expedition of the Professor’s that this is the first time I’ve thought of our old lives back in Great Glade. You must forgive me,’ said Galston. ‘I knew Friston well,’ he went on. ‘We’d been near neighbours in New Lake for years, and I know how highly he valued you, Nate. I remember over dinner one evening, completely out of the blue, he turned to me and said, “How does Glemlop, Drew and Quarter sound to you?” ’
Nate swallowed, remembering that fateful afternoon when Friston Drew had asked him the selfsame question.
‘He told me that you were the son he never had,’ said Galston.
‘But he does have a son,’ said Eudoxia. ‘And I know Branxford. He’s not going to give up his inheritance without a fight.’
‘But he already has, Eudoxia,’ said Galston. ‘When he sold his inheritance of the phraxchamber works to Felftis Brack, it wasn’t even his to sell. Friston Drew had already named Nate in his will as the sole beneficiary in the event of his death. The will was found hidden among the papers in Felftis Brack’s study when he was arrested. Besides,’ he added gravely, ‘according to my sources, Branxford Drew is in no position to fight for anything.’
‘He isn’t?’ said Eudoxia.
Her father shook his head. ‘Before the Archemax left Hive for Thorn Harbour, I received word that, at his trial, Felftis Brack named Branxford Drew as his accomplice in the explosion in the phraxchamber works – and the death of his poor dear father. That very day, Branxford tried to escape to the Western Woods in that phraxlighter of his and was shot out of the sky by a phraxmarine patrol ship. He went down in a blazing fireball.’
‘Poor Branxford,’ said Eudoxia. ‘He was weak and spoilt, and caused so much harm, but he didn’t deserve to die like that.’
For a moment, no one spoke. It was Galston who broke the silence at last.
‘This is what I propose,’ he said. ‘When this voyage is over, we set up a phraxship yard. And not just any phraxship yard,’ he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. ‘No, we’ll establish the finest and most innovative shipbuilder’s in the whole of Great Glade. Back in Hive I was ill, but even so, I saw how Cirrus and Squall worked to restore the Archemax.’ He swept his arm round in a broad arc. ‘Just look about you,’ he said. ‘There are more innovations in this one vessel than in the entire Great Glade fleet. With the Prade phraxmine and Glemlop, Drew and Quarter working alongside, the “Archemax Yard” could transform the nature of flight – and humble those haughty academics in the Cloud Quarter into the bargain. Never again will they be able to control the phraxship fleet, because we’ll open up the skies to all! So, what do you say, Nate?’
‘It … sounds very exciting,’ said Nate, his head swimming.
‘It will be,’ said Galston, tapping his cane on the deck excitedly. ‘Once the skies are open to all, the settlements will grow. Gorge Town, the Farrow Ridges, Four Lakes, the Northern Reaches and hundreds of others will become great cities in their own right. Who knows,’ he said with a smile as he gazed down at the glowing Twilight Woods, ‘we might even be at the beginning of a Fourth Age of Flight!’
Galston put his arm round his daughter and gave her a hug.
‘Let’s leave young Nate to think it over, while we check on how Slip’s getting along in the galley,’ he said. ‘Is it my imagination, or can I smell frying glimmeronions?’
Eudoxia laughed, and as the pair of them walked back along the deck, Nate turned his gaze to the ship’s beaked prow. In the distance, he could see the edge of the Twilight Woods giving way to the verdant grasslands of the Mire beyond, which glowed a dazzling shade of lush green in the low sun. He was about to turn away and return to the aft cabin to go through his box of memories – Nate liked to go through its contents when there was thinking to be done – when something caught his attention.
It was the Professor.
The tall, slightly stooped figure was standing up at the prow of the phraxship, alone and staring out into the distance. The Professor turned and noticed Nate watching him.
‘Ah, Nate,’ he said, removing his wire-rimmed spectacles, breathing on the lenses and wiping them slowly up and down the lapel of his short topcoat. ‘You find me lost in thoughts of what lies ahead.’
Nate approached the prow.
‘The Edge cliff?’ he said as he joined the Professor.
For a moment his friend said nothing. He put on his spectacles and resumed his steady gaze out across the glowing green landscape beyond. When he spoke, his voice was low, yet full of resolve.
‘Your brother,’ said Nate.
The Professor nodded. ‘Ifflix was one of the finest scholars of his generation, and I want to find out what became of him,’ he said. ‘I owe him that much at least.’ The low sun reflected in the panels of his spectacles as his mouth creased into a grim smile. ‘You call me the Professor,’ he said and laughed humourlessly. ‘Yet I am nothing more than a sham.’
‘But …’ Nate started.
‘It’s true, Nate,’ he said. ‘Oh, I can tell you the names of all the Most High Academes who ruled ancient Sanctaphrax during the First Age. I could rattle off the names of the academies and minor schools. I could probably name a hundred of the trees that grow in the Deepwoods. But as for the true pursuit of knowledge, that’s another thing entirely.’ His face clouded over. ‘I left that behind, many, many years ago.’ He sighed. ‘I was a good scholar,’ he said. ‘The best in my year – as my old professor, Cassix Lodestone, kindly reminded me a while ago. The mysteries of the Edge cliff have always fascinated me – just as they fascinated our archivist friends back in the Sumpwood Bridge Academy. What memories those two stirred up with their rock samples and light magnifiers and talk of glisters! Yet I gave it all up …’
He shook his head wearily.
‘And I squandered my life gambling and brawling – and giving lectures to pampered fourthling matrons in the baskets of the skytaverns.’ He smiled half-heartedly at Nate. ‘A fine “professor” I turned out to be …’ His face grew taut and his dark eyes narrowed as they stared through the lenses of his spectacles. ‘But my brother, Ifflix, was different. He was prepared to risk everything in his attempt to discover the ultimate mystery, by descending into the darkness. Can you imagine it, Nate?’ he said, his eyes glazed with wonder. ‘Descending the Edge cliff itself, into the realm of myth and ancient superstition, to discover what truly lies beneath …’