Edge Chronicles 6: Vox Read online

  There you are, Xanth,’ came a steely, yet slightly muffled voice and a sinister black-gowned figure appeared between them.

  ‘High Guardian, said Xanth.

  ‘Join us, said Orbix, turning away.

  At the far end of the gantry, crouched down beside the ceremonial cage like a great woodcrow hunched over carrion, was Leddix. He looked up, but his sallow face was impossible to read.

  ‘Come closer, snapped Orbix.

  Xanth approached. The mask clamped over the High Guardian's mouth hissed ominously; the dark glasses reflected Xanth's own anxious face back at him.

  ‘I've had my doubts about you, Xanth,’ Orbix said. ‘You may have noticed. Ever since you returned from the Free Glades … His voice trailed away.

  Xanth swallowed nervously.

  ‘But my doubts were clearly misplaced, Orbix continued. Xanth tried not to show his relief. ‘When I saw you kicking that librarian scum, I knew that the rumours about your loyalty were … were … He glanced round at Leddix. ‘Were less than well-founded.’

  ‘By the Oath of Allegiance, I did my duty as a Guardian of Night, said Xanth solemnly.

  ‘Indeed, indeed, said Orbix. ‘You acted admirably, He stepped forwards, clapped an arm around Xanth's shoulder and steered him towards the balustrade at the end of the broad, jutting gantry. Behind him, Xanth heard Leddix - sullen and disgruntled - muttering under his breath.

  The Great Storm is almost upon us, said Orbix, nodding towards the towering stacks of cloud before them. ‘We must be ready for it, He pulled Xanth round and drew his muzzled face close. ‘I want you to prepare Midnight's Spike. Clean the cogs, oil the levers, check the winding-chains. At the precise moment the storm breaks, the spike must rise smoothly up to its full extent to receive the healing power of the lightning bolt. Nothing must go wrong, do you understand?’

  Xanth nodded dumbly.

  The High Guardian relaxed his grip on Xanth's shoulder, and from behind the muzzle came a muffled grunt of satisfaction. ‘I know you will not fail me.’ He straightened up. ‘Go now. See to the spike.’

  ‘Sir,’ said Xanth. He turned away and headed back towards the gantry-doors.

  Orbix turned his attention to his cage-master. Behind the muzzle, his breathing was rasping and heavy. ‘Leddix,’ he hissed. ‘I trust everything is in place.’

  ‘Yes, High Guardian, said Leddix, giving a small, cringing bow. ‘The tunnel between the ravine and the sewers has been completed. I supervised it myself.’

  ‘And have you inspected the bait?7 he said.

  Leddix nodded enthusiastically. ‘Such sweet, tender young flesh, High Guardian, he simpered. ‘They're really going to go for her, I can promise you that.’

  Orbix strode over to the balustrade and stared down for a long time as if deep in thought. Leddix hovered behind him.

  ‘They'll tear her to shreds,’ he said keenly. ‘How they'll cheer from the upper gantries. It'll be the best Purification Ceremony yet.’

  The High Guardian turned and regarded the cage-master. Behind his muzzle, unseen by Leddix, his lip curled. ‘Leddix, Leddix,’ he said, his voice dripping with contempt. ‘You have understood nothing. This will be no ordinary Purification Ceremony. I don't intend this young librarian to be torn to shreds for the mere delectation of the upper gantries …’ He paused, and beneath his mask, the rasping breathing quickened.

  ‘You don't, High Guardian?’ said Leddix, a puzzled disappointment in his voice.

  ‘No, you fool!’ snapped Orbix. ‘Why do you think your work gangs have been labouring day and night these past months, digging a tunnel between the ravine and the sewers? Why do you think we've been nurturing the rock demons, feeding them only the sweetest, most tender librarian flesh? Simply to keep you and your bloodthirsty cronies on the upper gantries entertained?’

  Leddix shrugged uneasily.

  ‘Of course not!’ Orbix sneered. ‘I intend her to flee down the tunnel we have so kindly provided. She will run for her life, run to the Great Library - and after her, snapping at her heels and shrieking for the succulent flesh, will come the pursuing rock demons.’

  His voice became louder. Leddix seemed almost to shrink into himself.

  They'll infest every tunnel, the High Guardian told him. ‘Every nook, every cranny. They'll run amok, driven into a frenzy of bloodlust by the scent of all that tender librarian flesh around them; a scent they have grown to love so well. There will be no escape¡ Not a single librarian will survive!’

  Leddix bowed low. ‘A stroke of genius, High Master, he said, his voice oily, fawning. Truly the Guardians are blessed by your inspired leadership.’

  From behind the mask there came a thin, cackling laugh. Tomorrow at noon, when the sun is at its highest, the last and greatest Purification Ceremony of them all will begin.’

  • CHAPTER TWELVE •

  THE GREAT LIBRARY FLEET

  The ceiling fans, their blades whirring like agitated woodmoths in moonlight, were having little effect in the Great Storm Chamber Library. Rather than cooling the stifling atmosphere, their frantic beating seemed to be making the air even hotter. Below them, on the library bridges and numerous gantries, the librarians - their clothes damp and their faces glistening with sweat -worked with grim determination.

  Groups of conical-hatted professors hurried over the bridges and along the long, winding sewer tunnels, clutching boxes and crates and huge bundles of barkscrolls. Under-librarians, their robes flapping behind them, were racing up and down from the jutting gantries overhead to the channels of water below with heavy rolls of waterproof oil-cloth slung between them. The lectern-keepers, marshalled by the bridge-masters’ barked commands, were expertly winding in the skittish buoyant lecterns, one after the other. They were chained together in vast bobbing bunches, waiting to be attached to the huge vessels which were taking shape on the water below as hundreds of barge-hands and sewer-rafters feverishly lashed their craft together to form a fleet of five massive flat-bottomed ships.

  Above them, on the Lufwood Bridge, the Council stood poring over barkscroll blueprints and library inventories. There was Fenbrus Lodd the High Librarian, short and gruff, his shock of curly white hair forming a glowing halo round his head. And Varis Lodd, his daughter, captain of the librarian knights, looking curiously cool and collected in her leather flight-suit despite the heat; her green eyes darted here and there, missing nothing. Beside her, deep in conversation, were the Professors of Darkness and of Light; Tallus Penitax in heavy dark robes, and Ulbus Vespius, his cloak glowing white in the shadows.

  Behind them all, the aged figure of Alquix Venvax hopped from foot to foot, unable to contain his agitation at the sight of his beloved library being packed up and entrusted to the treacherous waters of the Edgewater River. It was all proving too much for him.

  This is madness!’ his querulous voice rang out above the clamour all round. ‘Madness¡ We shall all drown and this great library we have fought and died for will be lost for ever!’ His voice cracked with emotion as tears streamed down his face. ‘Please, there must be another way…’

  The council turned and Varis sprang to the old professor's side as he crumpled to his knees. Below them, an uneasy silence fell as under-librarians, professors, barge-hands and sewer-rafters suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked up at the group on the Lufwood Bridge.

  ‘There is no other way, Alquix, my old friend,’ came an equally frail voice - though unlike the old professor's, this one had a calm, steely determination about it that cut through the stifling air and echoed round the Storm Chamber. The council stepped aside as Cowlquape, the Most High Academe, in full regalia, stepped up to the balustrade of the Lufwood Bridge and spread his arms wide.

  ‘I know there are many amongst you who are loath to leave this great library of ours, he said, addressing the crowd.

  There were murmurs and whispers from the upper gantries and barges below.

  ‘It has been our refuge and haven against those who hav
e sought to destroy us for so long. The sewers have kept us safe, it is true, but now, as the dark maelstrom approaches, they will flood, and all we have fought and died for will be lost. So we must leave this place we've called home, the only place many of you have ever known, and make this perilous and terrible journey. Remember …’ - Cowlquape's voice rose to a crescendo - ‘the Storm Chamber will soon be no more. But with your help, my dear brave librarians, the Great Library will live on!’

  There was utter silence. All eyes were on the Most High Academe. Above, the monotonous whirring of the ceiling fans seemed louder than ever. Suddenly Fenbrus Lodd stepped up beside Cowlquape and raised a fist.

  ‘Long live the Great Library!’ he roared. ‘The Great Library¡ The Great Library!’ The words rang out as the librarians took up the chant; professors throwing their conical hats in the air, under-librarians banging on the wooden boards of the gantries and the barge-hands hoisting their oars above their heads.

  At last Cowlquape raised his hand and the cheering subsided. ‘Thank you, brave librarians. Now back to work, all of you,’ he commanded. ‘The eleventh hour approaches.’

  Everyone returned to their tasks with renewed vigour. The five great vessels were nearing completion. Each was broad and flat, braced with thick ironwood staves in the middle, and tapering to a long thin point at either end. The prows were fitted with anchor weights and grappling-hooks, while each stern had been raised high with a platform for the helmsman. Rows of benches lined the sides, already bristling with oars. In the centre of each boat, the lecterns were being loaded, jostling and clashing together as the nets being used to restrain the buoyant wood were strapped into place.

  The work is going well, said Fenbrus Lodd, turning to Varis who was busy overseeing the storage of the fragile skycraft onto the fourth barge with the Professors of Light and Darkness.

  She looked up. ‘Yes, Father,’ she said, ‘though I'd be happier leading a squadron in the air than trusting myself to the water. Besides, the fleet should have airborne cover.’

  ‘It's far too dangerous, said the Professor of Darkness, shaking his head. ‘Even for you, Varis.’

  ‘Tallus is right, said the Professor of Light. ‘With the storm about to break, no skycraft would last five minutes out there.’

  ‘And we'll need them later, the Professor of Darkness reminded her. ‘Once we have left Undertown…’

  ‘If we ever leave!’ interrupted Fenbrus. ‘All this discussion¡ For the love of Earth and Sky, hurry it along, all of you. Varis, you heard the professors. No skycraft¡ We'll just have to hope and pray that we meet no resistance on our way to the Mire Gates.’

  ‘You shall not, I promise,’ a voice rang out.

  Unnoticed, a cloaked figure had emerged from the shadows of the tunnel at the far end of the Lufwood Bridge, and stepped into the frantic atmosphere of the Great Storm Chamber. Now the figure strode boldly forwards onto the bridge and pulled back the hood that masked his face.

  ‘Rook!’ Fenbrus exclaimed. ‘I can't tell you how good it is to see you, lad!’

  ‘And for me to see you, High Librarian,’ said Rook. ‘I have much to tell.’

  ‘Make your report,’ said Fenbrus Lodd. ‘For everything depends on it!’

  The council gathered round the white-faced youth, Cowlquape offering him a lufwood stool.

  ‘Don't crowd him, Fenbrus Lodd said, as he climbed down from the lectern. ‘You there,’ he gestured to an under-librarian. ‘Get the lad some water.’

  ‘Sit,’ said Cowlquape, placing a hand on his shoulder, ‘and catch your breath, that's the way.’

  Rook sat down shakily and tried to suppress a shudder. ‘It was terrible,’ he began. Td almost forgotten how truly monstrous the shrykes are. The stench, the noise - and the way their unblinking eyes bore into you.’ He shuddered again. ‘I could have sworn that they saw right through me…’

  ‘You've been very brave, Rook, said Cowlquape gently. ‘You're safe now.’ He paused. ‘And if they had seen through you, you wouldn't be here.’

  Rook nodded and managed a smile. ‘I stuck to the story Vox gave me, about hating librarians and wanting to betray them …’

  ‘Shrykes understand treachery, Varis broke in. ‘They find it easy to believe.’

  ‘I told them where and when to attack the library, just like we agreed …’ Rook continued, looking round at the faces of the High Librarian and the Professors of Light and Darkness uneasily.

  ‘Now there is truly no going back, said Fenbrus, looking askance at the worried face of Alquix Venvax, who shook his head sadly. The Professors of Light and Darkness exchanged glances.

  ‘And Mother Muleclaw believed you?’ the Professor of Darkness asked.

  ‘She did when I demanded fifty gold pieces, said Rook. ‘And offered me safe passage down the Mire Road in her own personal carriage into the bargain when I gave her the details. She thinks she has a spy who will continue working for her - so let me live, thank Sky’

  ‘Like I said,’ Varis muttered, ‘shrykes understand treachery’

  Cowlquape turned back to Rook. ‘So you think the path down the Mire Road will be clear?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I'm sure of it, said Rook. ‘As I was leaving, I saw vast numbers of armed shrykes streaming in from the Eastern Roost. The entire shryke army is massing. They plan to swarm down into the sewers at the eleventh hour, leaving only fledglings and puny shryke-mates guarding the Mire Gates.’

  ‘We can handle them, said Varis firmly.

  Cowlquape leant forward and rested a hand on Rook's shoulder. ‘This is excellent, he said. ‘I had my doubts, but Vox's plan seems to be working.’

  ‘The fat barkslug, muttered Fenbrus Lodd darkly.

  ‘You have served the Librarians well, Rook, Cowlquape continued. ‘Refresh yourself and then make your way down to the jetties. There is a place on one of the boats for you.’

  Rook smiled. Although he would have willingly done anything asked of him to help with the grand exodus, he was exhausted. And though proud to have played his part in Vox's plan, he was relieved that it was now over.

  Varis stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. ‘Come, Rook, she said. ‘Let's go and find you something to eat.’

  Just then, there came a plaintive yodel from the far end of the Lufwood Bridge. ‘Wuh-wuh, Ru-wuh-uk, Uralowa. Wurra!’

  Rook recognized it at once. Welcome back, Rook, he who took the poison-stick. We have missed you.

  ‘Oh, banderbears!’ he cried.

  There was Molleen, an old female, the light glinting on her gappy smile and chipped tusk as she grinned at him lopsidedly. And Weeg, the huge shambling male with the ugly scar across his shoulder. And Wuralo, dear Wuralo, the female with the curious markings which encircled one eye and crossed her snout, that he had rescued from the Foundry Glade - taking a poisoned arrow to the shoulder for his pains. And last but not least, there was Wumeru, his friend. How many moons had passed since that first Deepwoods encounter…?

  Forgetting how weary he had been feeling only moments before, Rook dashed towards them, arms outstretched, and fell into Wumeru's tight embrace. The others clustered round them, hugging tightly, and forming a huge moss-speckled dome of fur.

  At the middle of it all, scarcely able to breathe, Rook smelled the warm, comforting odour of musty fur. It calmed his anxiously beating heart and brought back vivid memories, both good and bad. Of banderbear slaves. Of the great convocation. And of a single bander-bear female who, years before, when he was a small orphaned child, lost and alone in the dark Deepwoods, had found him and cared for him until one of his own kind had come to take him away …

  ‘My friends… he mumbled, struggling to free himself from their powerful arms. ‘Wurra-wuh, meerala!’ My heart sings loudly to be with you again¡

  ‘Wuh-wuh!’ ‘Wurra-weeg!’ ‘Larra-weera-wuh!’ The banderbears were all speaking at once.

  Wumeru silenced them with a slight tilt of her head. ‘Wuh-wella-loom,’ she sa
id gravely. Our hearts are glad to be with you, too. ‘Weera-wullara.’ But they also grieve that we must leave you.

  Rook stepped back. ‘Leave me?’ he asked, touching his chest with an open hand and tilting his head. ‘Why must you leave when we have only just been reunited?’

  Wumeru held out a vast paw and clasped Rook's face, drawing it close to her own. He could smell her sweet breath, and see the sorrow in her eyes.

  ‘Wurra-weeg, wurra-woolah,’ the banderbear said softly. We must take the fat one to the Mire Gates. It has been agreed.

  ‘It's true,’ said Varis, appearing at Rook's side. ‘As part of our agreement, you know we must take that great oaf, Vox, with us. The banderbears have agreed to go to the Palace of Statues and carry him to safety in a specially constructed bower. It will be dangerous, but we gave our word, as librarians.’

  ‘Wuh-wuh wooralah,’ Rook said softly. This mission is perilous. No-one would blame you for refusing.

  ‘Wurra-weeg!’ said Wumeru sharply, her teeth bared. ‘Wurroo-leera!’ Our own hearts would break with shame. Varis smiled. They won't let us down, Rook,’ she said. ‘And Sky willing, we'll all meet up again at the Mire Gates.’ She motioned to the banderbears who, each in turn, embraced Rook, then left the bridge.

  Rook turned to see a tall, ornate bower standing in the shadows of the tunnel. It had a wide padded bench, surrounded with plush curtains, all mounted on a carved frame. Two broad, varnished poles stuck out from the sides; one at the front, one at the back.

  The banderbears bent down, seized a length of pole each in their great clawed paws and, on Varis's command, lifted the bower up in the air.