Bron had never, in his entire life, known a celebration like it.
Surrounded by the fleet of smaller sky galleons, the Edgesaver had returned to Omniphrax, battered, scarred, and limping…but triumphant. As they drew near to the colossal fortress, still pitted and splintered in places, the faint sound of screaming and cheering could be heard, growing louder and louder. Once they arrived, they were greeted by thousands and thousands of Sanctaphrax sky-scholars and Farmers Academic, jumping up and down and yelling themselves hoarse. Many of them were in tears.
As the Edgesaver passed through the largest of the sky-gates, and its deck passed within a stride of the platforms and walkways on the Phraxfields side of Twilight's Edge, jubilant throngs mobbed the deck to greet the returning fighters, hugging them, kissing them, hoisting them up onto their shoulders and parading them across the deck. Some of them even found their way onto the ships of the Pirates Academic, and Bron and his friends had found themselves engulfed by a swarm of celebrating academics, each of them determined to express their own congratulation and gratitude and joy.
"That is enough!" boomed the amplified voice of Thurt Grayle from the helm, where he was helping Tesener Burlix steer the mighty vessel. "There will be time for that soon. Everyone in Twilight's Edge, please step off of the ship…we must return to Pirate Landing."
The Edgesaver was greeted in the same way as they passed over Undertown. Everyone dashed out of their shops, stalls, and residences to wave at the returning vessel. Sanctaphrax and Library Rock were nearly deserted, but those few academics who had remained leaned out the windows of their laboratories, libraries, and lecture halls, all dignity and manners forgotten as they yelled to the Edgesaver and the trailing sky ships.
The moment that everyone had disembarked, the celebrations had begun. Undertown and the four great Sanctaphrax rocks were alive with music, dancing, drinking, and revelry. Never before had Omniphrax had a reason to celebrate, and its citizens were suddenly given much better news than they could ever have hoped for. Not only was Omniphrax not going to be overrun with Phraxguardians, but the Vilnix Pompolnius was destroyed and the regional governors were dead!
Various participants in the battle were shortly filled in on what had happened in parts of the fight that they had not seen. Bron learned from Celestia and Durix that the worst carnage had been caused by the goblins and the shrykes. Muleclaw and Spikeflail had pushed their forces towards the aftcastle, to attempt to destroy the helm and disable control of the Edgesaver. It wasn't until the Pirates Academic had returned that the enemy numbers were reduced enough for the Undertowners to get a clear shot at the Warden General and his lieutenant. Bron, Raziel, and Leris, meanwhile, lost no time in informing the others about the details of their assault of the glisterbeam.
Of course, the process of mourning the dead put something of a damper on the festivities. A few hundred of the fighters had perished in the battle, and the citizens of Omniphrax spent a day of mourning, in which vigils were held, and the remains of those whose bodies could be recovered were laid to rest in their traditional ceremonies. Some were buried, some burned in funeral pyres, others laid out in the Stone Gardens or launched into open sky in burning lufwood rafts. Tesener Burlix himself presided over the ceremonies, extending his heartfelt condolences to those whose loved ones had been taken from them, and praising the fallen fighters' courage in giving the ultimate sacrifice for Omniphrax. For these family members and friends, life would never be the same, but in that one day their pain was shared by everyone. Bron and many of the other Pirates Academic spent much of their time seeking out the bereaved and trying to offer them as much comfort as they could.
It wasn't long, however, before everyone was once again celebrating the fantastic triumph of the Edgesaver. All through the night, Omniphrax was consumed with merriment and raucous energy. Giant parades snaked their way through every street in Undertown. The halls and laboratories of Sanctaphrax and Library Rock were hastily converted into makeshift dance floors, and music of all kinds competed with the tolling bells ringing out over the districts. Sky ships flew out over the Mire Provinces on wild party cruises. The noise would have made sleep impossible, had any of the jubilant, excited citizens actually sought it.
The festivities did not stop. They continued on as the sun rose, carrying into the next night. It wasn't until the day after that the exhausted inhabitants of Omniphrax finally began to calm down. But even as Omniphrax started settling, the good spirits remained.
Invigorated by their victory against the Empire, everyone was working twice as hard as they would usually have done. Scholars and Librarians categorized their new discoveries at a rapid pace, as the unusually high output of the Farmers Academic yielded record results, both in species preservation and crop yields. Thousands of volunteers flocked to Twilight's Edge, where the repair efforts were finally beginning to return the fortress to its original glory. And the Pirates Academic spread out all over the Edge, rescuing oppressed citizens with unprecedented ease, as the forces of Great Glade and Hive had been so sorely weakened.
Over the next month, Bron, Leris, and Raziel embarked on two missions. Each time, they sailed the Nimbuscleaver to the Northern Reaches, at the center of a great formation of sky ships. The Pirates Academic had never before targeted larger settlements, choosing instead to travel to remote, undeveloped villages where the Empire's security forces did not have as great a hold. But the Northern Reaches had been under the jurisdiction of Xelius Pulnix, and the Great Glade Military had all retreated to their headquarters, leaving the moderate-sized settlements unguarded.
From a distance, nothing appeared to have changed about the Northern Reaches. The dark outlines of mills and factories towered into the overcast sky, looming over the run-down slums surrounding the city. But the atmosphere was charged with nervous excitement. On both of the missions, they had loaded up hundreds of fettleleggers into the holds of the ship with the few possessions they owned, and after doing everything they could to make their surroundings comfortable, sailed back to Omniphrax and dropped them off in the Dormitory Towers. Each time, the wide-eyed wonderment and gratitude on the fettleleggers' faces afforded Bron a warm glow of satisfaction.
The second time they had shown up in the Northern Reaches, things were quite different. The fettleleggers who remained had transformed the city. The government offices had been torn down, and the luxuries owned by the Great Glade Military officers were distributed equally among the inhabitants. Meanwhile, the fettleleggers had also commandeered the weapons in the city, so that they would be able to defend themselves when the Great Glade Military tried to reclaim the city.
Raziel disembarked from the Nimbuscleaver, followed by Bron and Leris. The fettleleggers surged forwards, desperate to be among the lucky group that would be rescued. There were more sky ships in the fleet this time, so more of them would be able to come to Omniphrax, but they would still only be able to take a small fraction of the entire population of the Northern Reaches.
"Can you feel the tides of change?" said an old fettlelegger, hobbling up to Raziel.
Raziel shook her head sadly. "We may have struck the Empire a blow, but it will only be a matter of time before Vartolius Xax is back on his feet."
"Perhaps not," the fettlelegger said. "We've been hearing all sorts of rumors. All kinds of other uprisings are happening all over the Edge. Great Glade and Hive are in disarray, and a few other settlements have completely wriggled free of their control."
"But there are still millions who are loyal to the Empire," said Raziel. "And from what I've heard, order is returning to Great Glade and Hive. The Phraxguardians have declared martial law, and are preparing to march on the smaller settlements too. The fact is, they still rule the Edge. And this is why we have not abandoned our rescue raids."
The fettlelegger nodded sadly. "You're probably right. But still, one can hope."
Raziel's words made Bron's spirits sink. He had been so excited and happy for weeks. But he had forgotten that winning a battle wasn't the same as winning a war. Vartolius Xax still ruled the Edge, and his fury at Omniphrax would be greater than ever. This was the first time that anyone had truly challenged his power, and Bron didn't like to think what could be looming on the horizon.
These dark thoughts spun around and around his head for the next week, as they sailed back to Omniphrax. But when they arrived, Bron found something new to worry about. "Earth and Sky!" he whispered as he gazed at the districts below him.
It looked as though the city had been attacked.
Gone was the happiness and positivity and hope that had suffused the air when they had departed. As they sailed over Undertown, they saw damaged buildings and downed trees. Worse to behold were the inhabitants. The Nimbuscleaver dipped lower over the streets, and Bron saw people huddled in nervous groups, muttering to each other.
The fettleleggers emerged onto the deck to get their first view of Omniphrax. They looked around in puzzlement. This wasn't the prosperous beacon of freedom that they had heard about.
"What happened here?" asked one of them, tottering towards Raziel. "Why is it like this?"
She looked down from her position at the help. "I…don't know," she said. "It wasn't like this when we left."
After dropping off the fettleleggers at the Dormitory Towers, Raziel guided the Nimbuscleaver back to Pirate Landing, and Bron, Raziel, and Leris left the sky ship to find Murtus Lodd waiting for them, looking agitated.
"At last!" he said, hugging the three of them in turn.
"What's going on?" asked Leris.
"Two days ago, the city was hit by a violent storm. It was terrible! The battering winds shook the Sanctaphrax rocks and poured over Undertown. But that's not all…when the storm hit, everyone went…odd."
"Odd?" said Raziel sharply. "What do you mean, odd?"
"Well, it…that is, Arnix Filatine gave the announcement yesterday. The Department of Psycho-Climatic Studies in Sanctaphrax observed the event, and…well, according to them, it was a…a mind storm."
Bron stared at the Most High Librarian in amazement. A mind storm! Everyone knew of the rare and violent weather patterns that formed deep in open sky. Not only did they cause ball-lightning and gales and torrential rain, they also produced a dramatic and random emotional atmosphere that affected everyone nearby. Some might sing happily, some break down in sobs, some curl up in fear, and others fly into violent rages, all for seemingly no reason whatsoever. No wonder Omniphrax had been shaken so badly.
"A mind storm?" exclaimed Raziel. "Are they sure?"
"The faculty of the Department of Psycho-Climatic Studies has spent their entire academic careers observing the emotional effect of the weather," said Murtus. "If they say it was a mind storm, I think we can believe them."
"But mind storms are extremely rare!" said Leris. "Why, the only times in history that they have ever struck the Edge have been when…when…"
"When the Mother Storm is preparing to return," finished Murtus gravely.
Bron swayed on the spot. The thought of the Mother Storm returning to the Edge made him feel dizzy. This was the weather formation from which all other weather was conjured. It was the Mother Storm that had originally brought life to the Edge, simultaneously creating the Riverrise spring and seeding the world with glisters. The seeds of the three Ancient Ones—the Sanctaphrax Rock, the Great Blueshell Clam, and the Caterbird—were said to have come from the Mother Storm. And since its first visit, the Mother Storm had returned to the Edge regularly, rejuvenating the Edgewater River and preventing the Edge from descending back into the barren darkness in which it had originally been enveloped.
The Mother Storm's visits had always brought tremendous change. The last time she had returned to the Edge, the legendary sky pirate, Captain Twig, and his apprentice, Cowlquape Pentephraxis, had severed the Anchor Chain of Sanctaphrax, causing the great floating city to float away into Open Sky and clear the way for the Mother Storm. Not long after, Undertown had been overtaken by a great evil, and later destroyed, prompting a mass exodus to the Free Glades. Thousands of years before that, the Mother Storm had put an end to the Time of Enlightenment, and the reign of Kobold the Wise. The mind storms she had generated above the Deepwoods caused the perfect union of the Thousand Tribes to crumble, and the Deepwoods to return to their former greed and slavery after a brief period of prosperity and fairness. If any organized society had existed before Kobold the Wise, the Mother Storm had erased any evidence of it.
"Are we in danger?" came Raziel's voice, bringing Bron back to reality. "During the Mother Storm's previous visit, Sanctaphrax had to be released to prevent it from blocking her path to Riverrise. Now we have four Sanctaphrax rocks, plus Twilight's Edge!"
"We are not in danger, thank Earth and Sky." said Murtus. "The Mother Storm has approached the Edge at different altitudes each time she has visited. This time, she is much higher in the sky. It seems that Vartolius Xax's weather forecasters weren't just a bunch of yes-men after all."
He frowned. "What puzzles the sky-scholars is the time frame. The Mother Storm has always come in cycles of about five or six thousand years. It has been little more than one thousand years since her last visit."
Murtus paused, and then said, "There's something else…something that the three of you need to know."
"What?" asked Raziel.
Murtus took a deep breath, and said, "Nate Quarter is ill. He collapsed after the announcement that the Mother Storm was heading our way, and he is being cared for in the Dormitory Towers."
Bron, Raziel, Durix, Celestia, Leris, and Verticule were gathered around the bed. Nate Quarter was lying still, breathing faintly, but apparently in a deep sleep.
"What do you think is wrong with him?" asked Celestia.
"Well, he is over five hundred years old," said Durix. "Perhaps that's starting to take its toll on him."
After about ten minutes, they left. They returned frequently to the Dormitory Towers to visit Nate, but he was always unconscious. A team of gabtroll matrons were administering all of the concoctions and remedies that they could think of, but he did not respond.
However, Bron did notice one thing about Nate's condition. The strange glow that emanated from his body was slowly starting to fade. He wasn't sure what to make of this. Did it mean the Nate was getting well? That a condition he had suffered for centuries was at last at bay? Or did it mean precisely the opposite? Did the fading glow signify his fading life force?
Over the next week, they continued to make visits. But as their duties began to send them to different parts of Omniphrax, they soon found themselves unable to visit together. They frequently visited in threes, twos, or alone.
As if everyone didn't have enough to worry about, Omniphrax was then struck by another mind storm. The city had not yet even quite recovered from the first, and this one caused just as much damage. To add insult to injury, although the Mother Storm would supposedly pass over Twilight's Edge, the mind storms did not. This meant that Omniphrax not only took the brunt of the force, but the storms were blocked from reaching the Empire and causing any additional trouble there.
The morning after the second mind storm had struck, Bron was to be found visiting Nate's bedside on his own. He stared down into the ancient lamplighter's wizened face. His glow was now completely gone.
"I wonder what's going to happen?" he muttered. "To you, and to the Edgeworld."
Suddenly, without warning, Nate sat bolt upright in bed. Bron was so startled that he fell backwards off his chair, which landed on the floor with a crash. Excited, Bron got up and walked over to the bed, exclaiming "You're all right! You…"
He stopped. Nate Quarter was clearly not all right. His mouth was stretched tight in a grimace, and his eyes were bulging.
"The end…" he whispered in a hoarse, cracked voice. "The end is coming."
"What…what do you mean?" said Bron.
Nate slowly turned his head to face Bron. The horrible grimace had vanished, and his eyes were not popping anymore, but he bore a hopeless, ashen expression. "My memory has come back. I…I remember."
"Remember what?" asked Bron.
"I remember what the glisters told me on the side of the Edge cliff," he said.
He drew a deep, shuddering breath.
"They explained everything to me. Everything! And the truth is ghastly! I fear that it is too late!"
"Too late for what?"
"For the Edge," he whispered.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Bron said shakily, "Please explain."
Nate took another deep breath, and started speaking. "The Mother Storm, Bron Rackis. The Mother Storm! She has created everything. Her rain produced the Edgewater River. Her winds blew glisters to the Edge, where they took root and formed life. The glisters know this."
"They know this?" said Bron, confused. "Do you mean to say that glisters are capable of intelligent thought?"
"Yes, but not as we know it," said Nate. "Glisters form a collective consciousness by calling to each other. These calls are not quite thoughts…they are more basic…but together they form a combined intelligence that covers the Edge and stretches out forever into open sky."
Bron's anger at the Phraxguardians intensified. Not only were they enslaving and destroying the seeds of life, they were enslaving and destroying elements of an eternal consciousness!
"This energy touches us in more ways than we realize. This intelligence formed by glisters serves to feed the essence of life itself. And when it is damaged, so life on the Edge is wounded. In this way, the Phraxguardians' depletion of the glister population has led to…"
"The Blight!" gasped Bron. It was beginning to make sense.
"The glisters have sensed that they are in trouble," said Nate. "And it so happens that they share a supernatural connection with the Mother Storm. Whenever their numbers grow scarce, they summon her back to the Edge. This is how it has been since the dawn of time. In the past, the glister population would only thin as a result of the natural cycle. But this cycle was disturbed by the Phraxguardians."
"So that's why the Mother Storm is approaching so prematurely!" exclaimed Bron. "But that's good, isn't it? She is returning to reverse the damage caused by the Empire!"
"That is how it should be," said Nate. "But the Phraxguardians have other plans!"
"I don't understand," said Bron.
"Have you forgotten that they too are awaiting the Mother Storm? They view it as the solution to their problems. And they have constructed a tower to collect its energy. And this tower's walls…"
"…are lined with Stormphrax!" said Bron, horrified. "To amplify the energy of the rejuvenating burst of water and lightning! But then…"
"The power of the stormphrax will be too tremendous," said Nate. "It will destroy Riverrise. And with the central energy source of life on the Edge destroyed, the collective consciousness of the glisters will retreat back into open sky. Every living creature on the Edge will die."
Bron sat down, clutching his head. It was all too much to take in. It was truly the end of the world.
"Can…can anything be done?" he asked Nate.
"I do not know," he said. "We may already be too late. The Mother Storm is on her way. If anything can be done, then in must be done immediately."