Rivers of Fire (Atherton, Book 2) by Patrick Carman
Authors: Patrick Carman
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Children's Books, Action & Adventure, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure - General, Fantasy & Magic, YA), Children's Fiction, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Social Issues, Orphans, Social classes, Children: Grades 4-6, Friendship, Science fiction; American, Orphans & Foster Homes, Science fiction (Children's, Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, Earthquakes
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can climb over this ledge. I can get down there."
Vincent scanned the line of trees on the other side and wondered who might be waiting within them. Then his eyes settled on the boy. "The longer we wait, the more distance there is to climb down." Vincent looked at Dr. Kincaid, who was mumbling to himself, and then back at Edgar with an expression that asked, Even if we could do it ourselves, how are we going to get Dr. Kincaid down there? He's too old.
Edgar crouched down and scanned along the floor of the Highlands. "There!" he said, pointing. He had spied one of the giant baskets that used to hang down from the Highlands. The contraption was created for Highlanders to receive food from those in Tabletop, who alone harvested figs and supplied rabbit and lamb meat for the privileged living above them. It was strange to see the basket lying there on its side, discarded and useless, when it had once acted as the only lifeline between the two realms.
Edgar didn't wait for Vincent or Dr. Kincaid to answer. He wanted to make quick work of the thirty feet, grab the rope
61
attached to the basket, and bring it back. Without further thought he threw his legs over the edge and started sliding down until Vincent caught hold of Edgar's good arm. He gazed long and hard into Edgar's eyes.
"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked. "It's a long fall to the bottom if you miss a step." Edgar looked down and saw that there were plenty of places to put his feet and hands. He nodded.
"And are you sure this is a risk worth taking?" asked Vincent, looking now at Dr. Kincaid. "Our way is more treacherous than you anticipated."
Dr. Kincaid bent down on one knee, ignoring Vincent and placing all of his attention on the boy hanging precariously from the ledge. "Do you think the Cleaners can be overcome?"
Edgar thought about the question. The Cleaners were giant, ferocious creatures designed to find and kill anything in their paths. They had always been trapped in the Flatlands, but the Flatlands had risen and a thousand Cleaners had been unleashed on the world of Atherton.
"No," admitted Edgar. "Even with every person on Atherton in the fight, I don't think we can survive against the Cleaners."
"You're wrong," said Dr. Kincaid, touching Edgar on the shoulders. "They can be overcome. The answer lies in the House of Power." He glanced over the edge. "Only you can take us past an obstacle of this kind."
Edgar's eyes sparkled beneath raised brows, and a wide smile revealed a gleaming row of teeth. He was about to climb, something he thought he'd never do again, and Dr. Kincaid
62
needed him to do it. Without Edgar, their journey was over. It was he alone who could save the grove, the other villages, everything.
Edgar drew in a deep breath and Vincent let him go. The moment Edgar had all his limbs on the wall he felt fully alive. There was a comfort in climbing that he couldn't explain, as if he were doing the one thing he was put on Atherton to do.
And yet, there was also a new sensation against his hands and feet that worried him. This wall was not like the others he had climbed. All of the other walls had been dry, but this one was damp and slippery, with bits of mud and mossy green patches between the rocks. The way down to the Highlands felt, and even smelled, soggy. It made Edgar think he could lick the stones before his face to quench his growing thirst.
"This won't be a problem at all," said Edgar, trying to encourage himself as well as his companions. He could already see the route he would take and that it would not be difficult for him to make it to the bottom as long as he didn't slip on the moist surface.
As he went, it crossed his mind to take a longer way so that he could keep climbing for the sheer joy of it, but the wall began to shake in his hands and the slippery hold of one hand almost came loose. If the wall leading down to the Highlands were to continue shaking or become more violent, he could imagine his hand with
Vincent scanned the line of trees on the other side and wondered who might be waiting within them. Then his eyes settled on the boy. "The longer we wait, the more distance there is to climb down." Vincent looked at Dr. Kincaid, who was mumbling to himself, and then back at Edgar with an expression that asked, Even if we could do it ourselves, how are we going to get Dr. Kincaid down there? He's too old.
Edgar crouched down and scanned along the floor of the Highlands. "There!" he said, pointing. He had spied one of the giant baskets that used to hang down from the Highlands. The contraption was created for Highlanders to receive food from those in Tabletop, who alone harvested figs and supplied rabbit and lamb meat for the privileged living above them. It was strange to see the basket lying there on its side, discarded and useless, when it had once acted as the only lifeline between the two realms.
Edgar didn't wait for Vincent or Dr. Kincaid to answer. He wanted to make quick work of the thirty feet, grab the rope
61
attached to the basket, and bring it back. Without further thought he threw his legs over the edge and started sliding down until Vincent caught hold of Edgar's good arm. He gazed long and hard into Edgar's eyes.
"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked. "It's a long fall to the bottom if you miss a step." Edgar looked down and saw that there were plenty of places to put his feet and hands. He nodded.
"And are you sure this is a risk worth taking?" asked Vincent, looking now at Dr. Kincaid. "Our way is more treacherous than you anticipated."
Dr. Kincaid bent down on one knee, ignoring Vincent and placing all of his attention on the boy hanging precariously from the ledge. "Do you think the Cleaners can be overcome?"
Edgar thought about the question. The Cleaners were giant, ferocious creatures designed to find and kill anything in their paths. They had always been trapped in the Flatlands, but the Flatlands had risen and a thousand Cleaners had been unleashed on the world of Atherton.
"No," admitted Edgar. "Even with every person on Atherton in the fight, I don't think we can survive against the Cleaners."
"You're wrong," said Dr. Kincaid, touching Edgar on the shoulders. "They can be overcome. The answer lies in the House of Power." He glanced over the edge. "Only you can take us past an obstacle of this kind."
Edgar's eyes sparkled beneath raised brows, and a wide smile revealed a gleaming row of teeth. He was about to climb, something he thought he'd never do again, and Dr. Kincaid
62
needed him to do it. Without Edgar, their journey was over. It was he alone who could save the grove, the other villages, everything.
Edgar drew in a deep breath and Vincent let him go. The moment Edgar had all his limbs on the wall he felt fully alive. There was a comfort in climbing that he couldn't explain, as if he were doing the one thing he was put on Atherton to do.
And yet, there was also a new sensation against his hands and feet that worried him. This wall was not like the others he had climbed. All of the other walls had been dry, but this one was damp and slippery, with bits of mud and mossy green patches between the rocks. The way down to the Highlands felt, and even smelled, soggy. It made Edgar think he could lick the stones before his face to quench his growing thirst.
"This won't be a problem at all," said Edgar, trying to encourage himself as well as his companions. He could already see the route he would take and that it would not be difficult for him to make it to the bottom as long as he didn't slip on the moist surface.
As he went, it crossed his mind to take a longer way so that he could keep climbing for the sheer joy of it, but the wall began to shake in his hands and the slippery hold of one hand almost came loose. If the wall leading down to the Highlands were to continue shaking or become more violent, he could imagine his hand with
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