Gregor the Overlander (Underland Chronicles #1)

Gregor the Overlander (Underland Chronicles #1) Page 12

Chapter 12

"Sound the alarm!" shouted Vikus, and the place exploded in frantic activity. Horns began blowing, people rushed in and out, bats swooped in for orders and disappeared again without taking the time to land.

Everyone ignored Gregor as they shifted into emergency mode. He wanted to ask Vikus what was going on, but the old man stood in the High Hall in a blur of bat wings giving commands.

Gregor went out on the balcony and could see Regalia swarming like a beehive. Many rats were coming. The Underlanders were going into defense mode. Suddenly he realized they were at war.

The terrifying thought -- and the height of the balcony -- made Gregor light-headed. As he stumbled back inside, a strong hand caught his arm. "Gregor the Overlander, prepare yourself, for we leave shortly," said Vikus.

"For where? Where are we gong?" asked Gregor.

"To rescue your father," said Vikus.

"Now? We can go with the rats attacking?" said Gregor. "I mean, there's a war starting,- right?"

"Not any war. We believe it is the war foretold in 'The Prophecy of Gray.' The one that may bring about the complete annihilation of our people," said Vikus. "Pursuing the quest for your father is our best hope of surviving it," said Vikus.

"I can take Boots, right?" asked Gregor. "I mean, I'm taking her," he corrected himself.

"Yes, Boots shall come," said Vikus.

"What should I do? You said to prepare myself," asked Gregor.

Vikus thought for a second and called Mareth over. "Take him to the museum, let him choose whatever he thinks may aid him on the journey. Ah, here is the delegation from Troy!" said Vikus. He stepped into another storm of wings.

Gregor ran after Mareth, who had sprinted for the door. Three staircases and several halls later they arrived at a large chamber filled with loaded shelves.

"Here is that which has fallen from the Overland. Remember what you choose you must carry," instructed Mareth, thrusting a leather bag with a drawstring into his hands.

The shelves were filled with everything from baseballs to car tires. Gregor wished he had time to go through the stuff more carefully; some of it must have been hundreds of years old. But time was a luxury he didn't have. He tried to focus.

What could he take that would help on the trip? What did he need most in the Underland? Light!

He found a flashlight in working condition and collected batteries from every electrical thing he could find.

Something else caught his eye. It was a hard hat like construction workers wore. There was a built-in light on the front, so they could see in the inky tunnels beneath New York City. He grabbed the hat and crammed it on his head.

"We must go!" ordered Mareth. "We must get your sister and take flight!"

Gregor turned to follow him and then he saw it.

Root beer! An honest-to-goodness, unopened, only slightly dented can of root beer. It looked pretty new. He knew it was an extravagance, that he should only take essentials, but he had to have it. It was his favorite drink, plus it made him think of home. He stuffed the can in his bag.

The nursery was nearby. Gregor ran in and saw Boots sitting happily among three Underlander toddlers having a tea party. For a second, he almost changed his mind and left her there. Wouldn't she be safer here in the palace? But then he remembered the palace would soon be under siege by rats. Gregor knew he couldn't leave her to face that alone. Whatever happened, they would stay together.

Dulcet quickly helped Gregor into a backpack and slid Boots inside. She fastened a small bundle to the base of the backpack. "Catch cloths," she said. "A few toys and some treats."

"Thanks," said Gregor, grateful someone had thought of the practical side of traveling with Boots.

"Fare you well, sweet Boots," said Dulcet. She kissed the baby's cheek.

"Bye-bye, Dul-cee," said Boots. "See you soon!"

That was what they always parted with at Gregor's house. Don't worry. I'll be back. I'll see you soon.

"Yes, I will see you soon," said Dulcet, but her eyes filled with tears.

"Take care, Dulcet," said Gregor, giving her hand an awkward shake.

"Fly you high, Gregor the Overlander," she said.

In the High Hall, the mission was readying for departure. Several bats had lit on the ground and were being loaded with supplies.

Gregor saw Henry hugging a painfully thin teenage girl good-bye. She was weeping uncontrollably despite his attempts to comfort her.

"The dreams, brother," she sobbed, "they have worsened. Some terrible evil awaits you."

"Do not distress yourself, Nerissa, I have no plans to die," said Henry soothingly.

"There are evils beyond death," said his sister. "Fly you high, Henry. Fly you high." They embraced, and Henry swung up onto his velvety black bat.

Gregor watched nervously as the girl came his way. He could never think of the right things to say when people cried. But she had pulled herself together by the time she'd reached him. She held out a small roll of paper. "For you, Overlander," she said. "Fly you high." And before he could answer, she had moved away, leaning on the wall for support.

He opened the paper, which wasn't paper but some sort of dried animal skin, and saw that "The Prophecy of Gray" had been carefully written upon it. "That's so weird," thought Gregor. He had been wishing he could read it again to maybe figure more of it out. He had meant to ask Vikus but had forgotten in the rush. "How did she know I wanted this?" he murmured to Boots.

"Nerissa knows many things. She has the gift," said a boy mounting a golden bat beside him. On second glance, Gregor realized it was Luxa, but her hair had been cropped off close to her head.

"What happened to your hair?" asked Gregor, stuffing the prophecy in his pocket.

"Long locks are dangerous in battle," said Luxa carelessly.

"That's too bad, I mean -- it looks good short, too," said Gregor quickly.

Luxa burst out laughing. "Gregor the Overlander, think you my beauty is of any matter in such times?"

Gregor's face felt hot with embarrassment. "That's not what I meant."

Luxa just shook her head at Henry, who was grinning back at her. "The Overlander speaks true, cousin, you look like a shorn sheep."

"All the better," said Luxa.. "For who would attack a sheep?"

"Baa," said Boots. "Baaaa." And Henry laughed so hard, he almost fell off his bat. "Sheep says baa," Boots said defensively, which set him off again.

Gregor almost laughed, too. For a moment, he had felt as if he were among friends. But these people had a long way to go before he could consider them friends. To cover his slip, he concentrated on finding a comfortable way to carry his leather bag that would leave his hands free. He tied it to the side strap of the pack.

When he glanced up, he found Luxa looking at him curiously. "What wear you on your head, Overlander?" she asked.

"It's a hard hat. With a light," said Gregor. He. flicked it on and off to show her. He could tell she was itching to try it, but she didn't want to ask. Gregor quickly weighed his options in his head. True, they weren't friends ... but it was better to get along with her if he could. He needed her to get his dad. Gregor held out the hat. "Here, check it out."

Luxa tried to appear indifferent, but her fingers worked the light switch eagerly. "How do you keep the light inside without air? Does it not get hot on your head?" she asked.

"It runs on a battery. It's electricity. And there's a layer of plastic between the light and your head. You can try it on if you want," said Gregor.

Without hesitation, Luxa popped the hat on her head. "Vikus has told me of electricity," she said. She shot the beam of light around the room before returning it to Gregor reluctantly. "Here, you must save your fuel."

"You will begin a new fashion," said Henry cheerfully. He grabbed one of the small stone torches off the wall and laid it on top of his head. Flames seemed to be shooting out of his forehead. "What think you, Luxa?" he asked, showing her his profile with exaggerated haughtiness.

"Your hair is alight!" she suddenly gasped and pointed. Henry dropped the torch and beat at his hair as Luxa went into hysterics.

Realizing it was a joke, Henry caught her in a headlock and rubbed her short hair with his knuckles while she laughed helplessly. For a minute, they could have been a couple of kids in the Overland. Just a brother and sister, like Gregor and Lizzie, wrestling around.

Vikus strode across the hall. "You two are in a merry mood, considering we are at war," he said with a frown as he vaulted onto his bat.

"It is only an excess of spirit, Vikus," said Henry, releasing Luxa.

"Save your spirit -- you will have need of it where we are going. Ride you with me, Gregor," said Vikus, extending a hand. Gregor swung up behind him on his big gray bat.

Boots kicked his sides with anticipation. "Me ride, too. Me, too," she chirped.

"Mount up!" called Vikus, and Henry and Luxa leaped onto their bats. Gregor could spot Solovet and Mareth preparing to leave also. Mareth was riding a bat he hadn't seen before. Probably his other bat was still recovering.

"To the air!" ordered Solovet, and the five bats lifted off in a V formation.

As they rose up in the air, Gregor felt like he would burst from excitement and happiness. They were going to get his dad! They would rescue him and take him home and his mother would smile, really smile, again, and there would be holidays to celebrate, not to dread, and music and -- and he was getting ahead of himself. He was breaking his rule right and left and in a minute he would stop but for that minute he would go ahead and imagine as much as he wanted.

As they veered sideways over the city of Regalia, Gregor was reminded of the gravity of their task by the manic activity below. The gates to the stadium were being fortified with huge stone slabs. Wagons of food clogged the roads. People carrying children and bundles were hurrying toward the palace. Extra torches were being lit in all quarters, so the city looked almost bathed in sunlight.

"Wouldn't you want it darker if there's going to be an attack?" asked Gregor.

"No, but the rats would. We need our eyes to fight, they do not," said Vikus. "Most of the creatures in the Underland, the crawlers, the bats, the fish, they have no need of light. We humans are lost without it."

Gregor tucked that bit of information away in his brain. The flashlight had been the best thing to bring after all.

The city quickly gave way to farmland, and Gregor had his first glimpse of how the Underlanders fed themselves. Great fields of some kind of grain grew under row upon row of hanging white lamps.

"What runs the lamps?" asked Gregor.

"They burn with gas from the earth. Your father was most impressed with our fields. He suggested a plan for lighting our city, too, but at the moment, all light must go for food," said Vikus.

"Did an Overlander show you how to do that?" asked Gregor.

"Gregor, we did not leave our minds in the Overland when we fell. We have inventors just as you do, and light is most precious to us. Think you we poor Underlanders might not have stumbled upon some manner of harnessing it ourselves?" said Vikus good-naturedly.

Gregor felt sheepish. He had sort of thought of the Underlanders as backward. They still used swords and wore funny clothes. But they weren't stupid. His dad said even the cavemen had geniuses among them. Somebody had thought up the wheel.

Solovet flew parallel to them, but she was deep in conversation with a pair of bats that had joined the party. She uncurled a large map on her bat's back and scrutinized it.

"Is she trying to find where my dad is?" Gregor asked Vikus.

"She is forming a plan of attack," said Vikus. "My wife leads our warriors. She goes with us not to direct the quest but to gauge the level of support we may expect from our allies."

"Really? I thought you were in charge. Well, you and Luxa," he said, because really, he couldn't tell how that all worked out. Luxa seemed able to order people around, but she could still get in trouble for stuff.

"Luxa will ascend the throne when she turns sixteen. Until then Regalia is ruled by the council. I am but a humble diplomat who spends his spare time trying to teach prudence to the royal youth. You see how well I succeed," Vikus said wryly. He glanced at Henry and Luxa, who were flipping wildly in the sky trying to knock each other off their bats. "Do not let Solovet's gentle demeanor fool you. In the planning of battles, she is more cunning and wily than a rat."

"Wow," said Gregor. Her gentle demeanor bad fooled him.

Gregor shifted his weight on the bat and something poked his leg. He pulled the prophecy Nerissa had given him from his pocket and unrolled it. Maybe now would be a good time to ask Vikus some questions. "So, do you think you could explain this 'Gray Prophecy' to me?"

" 'The Prophecy of Gray,'" corrected Vikus. "What of it puzzles you?"

"The whole thing," thought Gregor, but he said, "Maybe we could just go through it a piece at a time." He studied the poem.

Beware, Underlanders, time hangs by a thread.

Well, that seemed pretty clear. It was a warning.

The hunters are hunted, white water runs red.

He asked Vikus to unravel the second line. "The rats are traditionally the hunters of the Underland, for they would happily track and kill the rest of us. Last night, we hunted them to save you. So, the hunters were hunted. White water ran red when we left their bodies to the river."

"Oh," said Gregor. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The gnawers will strike to extinguish the rest.

"Are 'the gnawers' the rats?" he asked. "Exactly so," said Vikus.

The hope of the hopeless resides in a quest.

The quest to get his dad. So, he'd escaped, the Underlanders had saved him, and now they were at war and off on the quest. Gregor suddenly knew what was bothering him. "So ... this whole thing is my fault!" he said. "It never would've happened if I hadn't tried to escape!" He thought of the approaching army of rats. What had he done?

"No, Gregor, put that from your mind," said Vikus firmly. "You are but one player in a very long and difficult tale. 'The Prophecy of Gray' trapped you, as it trapped us, long ago."

Gregor was silent. He didn't exactly feel better.

"Read on," said Vikus, and Gregor's head drooped to the page. The lights of Regalia had faded away, and he had to squint to read by the faint torchlight.

An Overland warrior, a son of the sun, May bring us back light, he may bring us back none. But gather your neighbors and follow his call Or rats will most surely devour us all.

"So, you say this next part is about me," he said unhappily.

"Yes, you are the 'Overland warrior,' for obvious reasons," said Vikus, although Gregor didn't think the reasons were too obvious. "You are 'a son of the sun' as an Overlander, but also the son who seeks his father. This is the sort of comedic wordplay Sandwich delighted in."

"Yeah, he was a funny guy," said Gregor glumly. Ha ha.

"Now the lines that follow are most gray," said Vikus. "Sandwich could never clearly see if in fact you succeed in bringing back light or if you fail. But he most adamantly insisted we attempt the venture or die by the rats'teeth."

"Well, that's not too inspiring," said Gregor. But for the first time Sandwich had struck a chord with him. The possibility that Gregor might fail made the whole prophecy more plausible.

"What sort of light am I supposed to bring back?" asked Gregor. "Is there a sacred torch or something?"

"That is a metaphor. By 'light,' Sandwich means 'life.' If the rats can truly extinguish our light, they extinguish our life as well," said Vikus.

A metaphor? Gregor thought an actual torch would be easier to bring back. How could he bring back some metaphor thing he didn't really understand? "That could be tricky," he said. He read on.

TWO over, two under, of royal descent, TWO fliers, two crawlers, two spinners assent.

"What are all those twos about?" asked Gregor.

"That tells us whom we must persuade to accompany us on the quest. We are proceeding as if the 'two over' are you and your sister. 'Two under' of royal descent are Luxa and Henry. Henry's sister, Nerissa, as you might have gleaned, was not a possible choice. Fliers are bats. Crawlers are cockroaches. Spinners are spiders. We go now to assemble our neighbors in the order that the prophecy dictates. First the bats."

The number of bats had been increasing as they flew. Henry led the party into a vast cave. Gregor gave a little jump when he realized the ceiling was bumpy with hundreds and hundreds of hanging bats.

"But don't we already have bats?" asked Gregor.

"We need official permission to take them on the quest," said Vikus. "Also, there are matters of war to discuss."

A towering cylinder of stone sat in the center of the cave. Its sides were as slick as those of the palace. On the round, flat top a group of bats waited.

Vikus turned back to Gregor and whispered, "We humans know you to be the warrior, but other creatures may have doubts. Whoever you think you may or may not be, it is essential that our neighbors believe you are the one."

Gregor was trying to unwind that in his head when they landed next to the bats on the huge pillar of stone. The humans all dismounted. Deep bows and greetings followed on both sides.

One particularly impressive, silvery white bat appeared to be in charge. "Queen Athena," Vikus said, and presented him. "Meet you Gregor the Overlander."

"Be you the warrior? Be you he who calls?" asked the bat in a soft purr.

"Well, actually I -- " Gregor saw Vikus frown and pulled up short. He'd been about to go into his spiel about how he wasn't the warrior, but then what? Vikus had whispered something about others believing he was the one. There was a war beginning. The bats weren't likely to send off valuable fliers on a wild-goose chase. If he denied he was the warrior now, the quest would be called off, and his father would be as good as dead. That sealed it.

Gregor stood up straight and tried to control the quaver that slipped into his voice. "I am the warrior. I am he who calls."

The bat was still for a moment, then nodded. "It is he." She spoke with such certainty that for a second Gregor succeeded in thinking of himself as a warrior. A bold, brave, powerful warrior that the Underlanders would tell stories about for centuries. He could almost see himself leading a squadron of bats into battle, stunning the rats, saving the Underland from --

"Ge-go, I pee!" announced Boots.

And there he stood, a boy in a goofy hard hat with a beat-up flashlight and a bunch of batteries he hadn't even tested to see if they still had juice.