Rivers of Fire (Atherton, Book 2) (8 page)

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from somewhere in the dark corner of the skinny room. She stepped forward carefully, peering through shafts of light that were creeping into the dusty air of the space. The sound came again, and this time the girl screamed like she'd never screamed before. Something had latched onto Henrietta, holding the rabbit between its crooked teeth.

The girl fled back to the inn for help. Whatever it was didn't follow her. Instead, it slunk back into the dark corner and devoured the beloved pet.

A group from the village soon arrived with sharp sticks and rocks. They pried the flimsy walls down and opened the room to the light of day, and there in the corner, clicking its bloody teeth, was the thing they'd been told about. It was a Cleaner.

The moment the walls were down it began racing in search of a new dark spot to hide in. The Cleaner cowered in the middle of a circle of men as they threw rocks at it. Soon the Cleaner was beaten enough that the men could approach it and poke it with the sharp sticks they carried. And then, without further violence, the Cleaner was dead.

There came a howl of excitement from the crowd. This was the monster that would come in great numbers to tear apart the rabbits and the children?

"I think we could handle a hundred of those," cried one man.

"A thousand!" yelled another. There was genuine happiness in the group, except for the girl, who had lost her Henrietta and could not be consoled.

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Then through the hollering crowd strode Briney, Maude, and Horace with a few of his men. The crowd parted like water as the group who'd been conferring inside the inn came to the middle of the circle and stood before the fallen creature.

"Killed it, did you?" said Maude. She was not in a favorable mood.

"We did!" came the cry of several men, holding their sharp sticks over their heads like great conquerors.

"It would have been more useful if you'd let it live. We could have studied its movements."

This took a little wind out of the group. A quiet passed over them.

"You know what this is, don't you?" asked Maude. She had seen a Cleaner from a distance and been told much more about them by Vincent. The night before, he had visited her while Edgar was in the grove.

"Why, it's a Cleaner, like you said," answered one of the villagers.

"It's a
baby
Cleaner," said Maude. She walked a few paces and stood over the fallen creature. "This thing must have wandered off from its den in the middle of the night, following the smell of rabbits." Maude looked hard at the circle of people around her. "Imagine something bigger, with teeth as large as those sticks in your hands, and you're getting closer to the truth of what we face."

"How much bigger?" asked a woman holding the crying little girl who had loved Henrietta. The dead Cleaner was about

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four feet long and thick around the middle, and it had a disgustingly huge mouth full of jagged teeth.

Maude didn't hesitate. "Eight or ten feet long, probably four hundred pounds. And aggressive. You won't be throwing rocks at a pack of full-grown ones when they show up here. You'll be running for your life."

The short-lived glee was now completely gone from the group. Maude wondered if she'd told them too much. There could be a real risk of hysteria if she wasn't careful.

"You need to form groups and go through all the houses. Make sure there are no more juvenile Cleaners hiding in the village. And someone should check with the scouts to see if they've heard or seen anything approaching."

They had been smart enough to set up a line of villagers around the village and toward the Flatlands, a line that this one delinquent Cleaner had managed to avoid in the night. Big Cleaners were not quiet on their approach as a group, or so Vincent had told her, and hopefully the scouts' forewarning would allow them a small amount of time to prepare.

"Give us just a little longer and we'll have our plans set," finished Maude. She turned to Horace and Briney and the group started back for the inn. She stopped short and called back to them.

"I'm told you can eat them," she said, "but I'm not going to be the first."

The villagers all looked back at the ghastly thing that lay dead on the ground, its slimy green insides oozing out into the dirt, and nobody dared even think of eating any part of it.

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***

What the villagers didn't know wouldn't hurt them, at least for a few more hours. This was the thought Maude had while walking back to the inn to finish talking to Horace and his men. Some of the crowd walked along with them, asking questions about the plans for the village, but Maude remained stoic in her response.

"We need more time," she had kept telling them. She had wasted no time speaking her mind to Horace and his men the moment they were back inside the inn and the door was closed behind them.

"They have no chance," Maude had said. "No hope whatsoever."

"We don't know that," Briney had replied, coming to the defense of the villagers, as usual.

"They can't build a shelter of stone that doesn't fall over," she began. She was building up a head of steam and her voice rose as she continued. "Did you see those weapons? I told them to make spears and they walk around with sticks in their hands. And even if they could make real spears, they don't have the courage or the training to use them. This village couldn't fight off ten Cleaners, so what's going to happen when a hundred of them show up? They could be here in an hour or a day, but I know they're coming. Either way, we don't have time to whip this village into fighting shape. It can't be done."

Briney sat down. Then his chest began to sink inward, and soon he was staring at the floor. She was right. The village and

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everything in it would be destroyed. Maude put her hand on Briney's shoulder, and her emotions threatened to get away from her.

"The Highlands have been deserted," said Horace, and this refocused her attention on the matter at hand.

"Everyone
has fled?" she asked.

"All who haven't lost their minds."

This was where they'd left off before being called out by the villagers. Now that they were back, Maude wanted more answers to questions she'd been thinking about.

"Where have all the people and those big animals, the horses, gone to?" asked Maude. She stumbled on the word "horses," still getting used to the very idea of these foreign creatures.

One of Horace's men who'd been silent until then now spoke up. He was black-bearded and wide across the face and shoulders, and his bright eyes cut through the darkened room.

"We took them out of the Highlands on the other side," he said. "As far away from here as we could get them. The people of the Highlands fear you, as they feared Lord Phineus, and fear is fertile ground for fighting."

Horace broke in. "Once there were three villages on Tabletop, and now there are four--at least for a short time. The people of the Highlands are far away, but we need to find a way to bring them to us. We'll need the horses."

"Who leads this group if not Lord Phineus?" asked Maude.

The man with the black beard looked at Horace. "He leads us."

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It was mildly comforting amid all the bad news to know that Maude had befriended the leader of a people she feared. She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, and then she asked Horace what he thought they should do.

The plans he had were not what she'd expected, but there was something in them that rang true. It was a real solution that just might work. It had the advantage of at least getting them more time.

"The only problem is that I'm not sure those in the grove or the Village of Sheep will go along with a plan like that," said Maude. "Someone will need to go ask them."

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*** CHAPTER 10 FLYING ROCKS

Edgar glanced over his shoulder, and he saw that he and his companions were utterly trapped in the Highlands. For some reason he thought of the old wooden cup he'd always carried to Mr. Ratikan's house when it was time to get his water ration. He felt small, as if he were looking up from the bottom of the wooden cup, unable to escape.

"How are we going to get out of here?" asked Edgar. It struck Edgar as odd that they hadn't been more focused on this very obvious and disastrous problem looming close in their future. They would need to get out at some point, and Edgar was the only one of them who could climb.

"We'll figure that out when the time comes," said Vincent firmly, as if it were a question he was unwilling to address even if he knew its answer.

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The giant wooden doors to the House of Power sat closed in front of them, and there was not a sound from inside the courtyard. The only noise came from around them, an echoing murmur of rocks grating against rocks as the Highlands continued their slow descent.

How far could it fall?
thought Edgar. He made quick work of the wall, climbing up to the top and turning back. Vincent carried with him a length of the rope that had snapped loose at the cliffs, and he flung the end up to Edgar. Soon the rope was secure, and Vincent was inside the fortress with Edgar. The two removed the beam over the wooden gate and opened it.

"Let's be slow in our exploration," said Vincent, motioning Dr. Kincaid to pass through the doors and into the courtyard. "There might be someone inside with a weapon, waiting for just such a moment as this."

Already the courtyard was beginning to show signs of neglect. The brightly colored flowers seemed particularly delicate. The petals were brown and flaking at the edges and the long stems drooped toward the ground. The hedge was parched and leaves hung limp from small trees planted between the stone walkways. And there was a fountain to one side that was empty. There was a sadness about it, as if it had lost its reason for being. It was the deadest-looking thing in the courtyard.

The House of Power was showing the symptoms of death more sharply than other places in Atherton, as though the truth of its great beauty were being brought to bear: It was a fragile beauty, held together by great effort. The Highlands lacked the

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rugged sense of having been useful. It was a place with a colorful candy coating, hiding very little underneath.

"This place had a shabby kind of splendor, even at its best," said Edgar, pride welling up inside him. "The grove is still beautiful, even without any water." He touched the bag that held the three young figs and felt them squishing around inside, and he felt a little closer to home.

"Where has all the water gone?" asked Vincent. He looked at Dr. Kincaid with some alarm, and it seemed to Edgar that Vincent had expected the fountain to be bubbling with life. "I assumed that Lord Phineus was holding all of the water in the House of Power for himself and his loyal followers."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Dr. Kincaid. "I hope there are no more surprises awaiting us today."

Vincent was already moving slowly ahead. "Do you know the way?" he asked. "I can't be sure."

"I know the way," said Dr. Kincaid. "Follow the center path. It will snake back and forth through the ivy-covered terrace and end where the stair begins. We must go up the stairs in the middle."

Edgar was startled that Dr. Kincaid would be so familiar with the House of Power. Hadn't he been trapped in the Flatlands with Vincent since Atherton's beginnings?

"There doesn't seem to be anyone here," said Vincent. "Maybe the lack of water has turned out to be a good thing for us after all. There was nothing to keep them here, and it has made our approach all the easier."

Vincent continued winding his way through the courtyard

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with Dr. Kincaid and Edgar following close behind. With not a soul about the place, he became increasingly relaxed. At one point he stopped and looked back at his companions.

"How does my nose look?" he joked. It was absolutely dreadful and made Vincent seem like an entirely different person. His nose appeared to be even wider than it was long, which was saying a lot because Vincent had a very long nose.

"You look fine," said Dr. Kincaid. "Can we please get on with it?"

Dr. Kincaid had seemed more nervous and quiet than Vincent along the way. Edgar wished he knew where they were going and why, but throughout their journey the older man had steadfastly refused to supply any useful information, so Edgar had given up asking. Wherever their ultimate destination was, the idea of getting there had turned Dr. Kincaid a little cold, and the old man wasn't quite the fatherly figure he'd seemed to be when they'd first met.

At last they came up along a high white wall alive with climbing ivy, the green vines snaking brightly against the white stone. Vincent reached out and touched the wall, and when he did, a rock the size of Edgar's head crashed down from above. It struck Vincent on the top of his shoulder and he howled in pain.

"Get away from there!"

Looking up, the three companions saw a man's head sticking out. It was Tyler, and he was about to hurl another rock from above.

Vincent pushed Dr. Kincaid toward a nearby wall with