Rivers of Fire (Atherton, Book 2) (19 page)

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everywhere through the cavern. The light remained elusive, a light that was at once everywhere and nowhere at all. It was a light of yellow and orange caught in black shadows, full of mystery and depth.

After a trek that lasted more than an hour but less than two, Vincent came to a place where he held back his hand as if to tell everyone to stop and be still. Before them lay a pile of stones that blocked their way. Through the stones shone shards of light from a source that seemed brighter than what they'd encountered before.

"We have come to the place where Tabletop and the Flat-lands meet," said Vincent, pointing to the pile of rocks pierced through with beams of light. "The inside is there."

It was a treacherous climb up the side of the pile of rubble that lay in front of them, and Vincent insisted on taking the old man up to the top first, where an opening remained. As he started back down to help Sir William, Samuel, and Isabel, there came a sound of cracking from high over their heads.

"Run!" screamed Vincent from his perch. A long stone shaped like a spear had broken free above the group of three and it was falling through the air. Sir William dropped his weapon and grabbed both children around the waist, then dove toward Vincent. When the narrow stone hit the cavern floor it burst into pieces, chunks sparking loose in every direction.

Vincent scrambled down the rock face and found that the three were bruised and scraped but otherwise unharmed.

"Let's get these two out of here," said Sir William, hauling Samuel and Isabel to their feet. They dusted themselves off and

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examined scraped elbows and knees, then the group of four began the climb to the top of the mountain of stones. Up they went, using their spears to balance and pulling one another up by the hand over the larger rocks. When they came to the very top Vincent went into the light and beckoned the rest to come inside.

When Isabel, Samuel, and Sir William were safely through to the other side, they climbed down the rubble without speaking, for they were overcome with surprise.

The five of them were inside Atherton, and a breathtaking new world lay hauntingly before them.

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*** CHAPTER 22 INSIDE ATHERTON

"We must rest awhile," declared Vincent. "And this is a very good place to do it."

They had moved away from the pile of rocks and stood at the outer edge of a large alcove that looked out over the inside of Atherton. There was a large pool to one side, fed by a trickling but steady flow of water, and the alcove danced with liquid shadows shot through with the color of flames. Everyone removed their packs and stood together staring into the open expanse.

"Where does the light come from?" asked Isabel. She was mesmerized by beams of light radiating brilliantly from behind what could only be described as a range of mountains. It was as if they'd come inside on the peak of one of those mountains and found themselves looking down on formations of sharp

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spires rising up from a valley floor cast in the deep colors of night. The space seemed to go on forever, with cracks of dazzling light from the ground shining into the air.

"The light comes from outside," said Dr. Kincaid. He had looked forward to this moment as they'd made their way through the cavern. "The bottom of Atherton is shaped like half a circle. It's huge and heavy, and the very middle is filled with water and something heavier, something I don't claim to understand. But around the wide edge, where the Flatlands are above us, it's an open world, the world you see before you now."

"But how does the light get inside?" asked Samuel.

"The bottom of Atherton is not made entirely of stone. It's made also from something clear, or almost clear, something that light can penetrate."

Dr. Kincaid smiled and breathed deep the cool, wet air as if he had come to a place he remembered but had missed.

There came an unnerving sound inside Atherton that startled Dr. Kincaid out of his happy moment. Vincent whipped his crossbow into position quick as lightning, pointing the sharp arrow toward the sky.

"What was that?" asked Isabel. It had sounded like a scream, but an inhuman one. Through a beam of light far below, the shadowy figure of a flying beast moved across the cliffs. Isabel, Samuel, and Sir William had no memory of any such creature, a
flying
creature, and they were equal parts afraid and fascinated.

"Do you remember when Dr. Harding, or I should say Lord Phineus, called this place Pandemonium?" asked Vincent. The group nodded but didn't take their eyes off the moving shadow

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below. "He called it that for a reason, for it is here that he put some of the creatures he made that had no place on Atherton."

"Why did he put them here?" asked Samuel, feeling increasingly uneasy about this place despite its wild beauty.

"Because they were too dangerous to put anywhere else, and he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them."

"Now, Vincent," Dr. Kincaid broke in, "not everything inside Atherton is dangerous. And besides, everything that resides here is needed to make Atherton work. The Inferno, for one. Without it Atherton couldn't exist at all."

"The Inferno isn't what worries me right now," said Vincent. "It's the Nubian I'm concerned with."

"Dr. Harding sure did make a lot of things that do more harm than good," said Isabel, thinking of the Cleaners and the Crat and the Nubian, which she assumed was the thing flying around far below.

Dr. Kincaid didn't say anything. There was a part of him that agreed with the girl's assessment, though he had an unwavering love for everything Dr. Harding had created. He couldn't help himself. Creation was a glorious thing, to his mind, whether the creations were successful or not.

"We must get a few hours' rest," said Vincent. "The Nubian won't come this high up, and we're clear of the Highlands and Tabletop. Let's all get some water and lie down."

They moved back into the alcove, quenching their thirst and gathering in a tight group to keep warm. Very soon everyone but Dr. Kincaid and Vincent were asleep. They moved off, out of the alcove, and spoke in whispers.

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"Do you think we can get them all through?" asked Vincent. "I don't know. It's not an easy way."

"Let's allow them to rest for at least a few hours. They're going to need their energy."

"What about you?" asked Dr. Kincaid. "You need rest as well."

Vincent gazed over the inside of Atherton, shot through with rays of yellow light, and heard the distant screeching of the Nubian.

"You go on, lie down," said Vincent, concern rising in his voice. "I'll sleep after I get everyone out of here."

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***

CHAPTER 23 NIGHT IN THE GROVE

There was a time when darkness in the grove had brought a feeling of calm stillness, when the work of the day was complete and tired but talkative people sat around the soft glow of evening fires. This was a feeling that still lingered unnaturally, even though everyone knew it was untrue. What had been tranquil about the grove was in the past. The true emotion, the deeper one as night came on, was fear.

"How is it you stay so still at times like this?" asked Horace. He had come to rely on Wallace's serene nature amid the calamity that surrounded them both. The two had been walking slowly and carefully through the largest of the third-year trees, searching for something they weren't sure they wanted to find. But now they had stopped and sat down to rest, talking quietly.

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They carried no torch or light of any kind, but the grey hue of early night on Atherton softly covered the grove.

"There are two paths to peace," said Wallace. He had a stick in his hand and began carving lines into the dirt. "At least there are two that I'm aware of. One is to study the ideas and the ways of peace, to discuss them endlessly, to observe them and dissect them. The other is quite different."

The way Wallace had described the path sounded to Horace very much like the way any sane person would go about it. It seemed rather obvious that the study of a subject would naturally lead to understanding. That was certainly the way everyone approached things in the Highlands, where books were plentiful and study was common.

"The other path--the path I have taken--has nothing to do with any of that."

"You make no sense," said Horace. He was aware that he'd spoken a little louder than he wanted, and looking around he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You can't just become something without learning what it is you're trying to become."

"Can't you?" asked Wallace. There was an exasperating silence about him as he waited patiently for Horace's answer.

After a long pause, Horace said, "I'm unable to see the other path."

"That's because you're not on it."

"Are you
trying
to confuse me?"

Wallace lifted the stick from the dirt and, without cleaning the end off, began scratching his head with it.

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"What if, instead of studying the thing you wanted to learn, you simply started performing the actions? The problem with most people is that they want to study subjects, but they don't want to get anywhere near the discipline of truly learning."

Horace thought this was a pretty interesting idea, though it was difficult for him to grasp.

"Tell me what you do that makes you this way," said Horace. He hadn't told anyone, not even Wallace, but the pressure of leading the people of Atherton was grinding away at his spirit. He missed his family--had barely seen them in days--and he was beginning to feel that the job was bigger than he was. The thought of a Cleaner hiding in the grove also weighed heavily on his mind.

"I take long walks all alone in the morning and in the evening," began Wallace. "I look at the world around me. I think of what I want for Atherton--harmony between our peoples, food and water, understanding, patience. I spend a lot of time standing alone in a field surrounded by animals that don't speak and are apt to wander off and get lost. The solitude sharpens my mind."

Wallace stopped, but Horace wished he wouldn't. He found that if Wallace kept talking, it took his mind off troubles of his own. "What else do you do?"

Wallace raised an eyebrow, surprised that Horace really cared about such things. He reasoned that the man must be struggling to keep up the fight, so he went on.

"Sometimes I eat nothing for an entire day, which I admit

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sounds strange. But you'd be surprised what it does to a person to go without food even for a single day. Unexpected hungers rear their ugly head when basic needs are voluntarily given up. The things that are deep inside come looking for provisions -- dark things that also want to be fed."

"What dark things come out when you don't eat?" asked Horace.

"Things like anger and deceit, fear and jealousy," said Wallace. "Although, with the Highlands beneath me now, I'm quite a lot less jealous than I used to be. I didn't see that coming."

Horace laughed quietly at Wallace's words and felt genuine surprise that this passive man before him was capable of feeling jealousy and anger.

"So you're telling me if I take walks all alone, tend sheep all day, and starve myself, I'll turn into a peaceful person?"

Wallace shrugged his shoulders. "My thoughts are often much darker than you might imagine when I'm starved for something to eat and standing alone on a hill for hours on end."

He looked thoughtfully at Horace, and then he spoke the last of what he would teach the man that night.

"You must know your enemies to overcome them. That is the path of peace for every person, and it comes only by doing, not by study of those who are already doing."

There was a rustling on the path behind them and they were both up in a flash, their backs to each other in the dim light of the grove. Everything was silent once more, and the two men turned and crept slowly toward the sound they'd heard, spears at the ready All but a very few people had been ordered

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to huddle together behind ever-widening circular perimeters of men with weapons. At the heart of the inner circle were the children and mothers, the animals and the stores of water.

"This way," whispered Horace in his quietest voice. He was aware that Gill was scouting the perimeter of the grove on horseback, and the two parties might have unintentionally come close to one another in the dark.
E

Horace and Wallace crept closer to where the noise had come from, ducking under branches as they went. When the two had gone about ten paces down a hard dirt path between the trees they heard the sound again, only this time they saw what it was. A rabbit darted out from behind a tree and across the path, disappearing on the other side.

The two men breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at each other, then back at the path where the rabbit had crossed. A second rabbit hopped out into the same path, but this one was limping badly and moved slower than the other. It stopped and stood on its two back legs, looking curiously at Horace and Wallace.

"Looks like that one is having a bad night," said Horace. He leaned down and put a hand out toward the rabbit, and when he did, the Cleaner that lay hidden in the shadows leaped out with stunning force and speed. Its jaws slammed down over the injured rabbit, devouring it all at once.

Wallace remained perfectly still, several feet back from the monster, but Horace was unable to contain his voice in the shock of the moment and let out an almost inaudible bark that carried over Wallace's head and reached the tiny ears of the Cleaner. It