SANCTAPHRAX WILL BE destroyed by the energy of the Mother Storm. . . . Far over the Edge, the Mother Storm is brewing—a storm more terrifying than any seen in the lifetime of any Edgelander. Sweeping in from the open sky, it must strike the source of the Edgewater River to bring new energy to the land. But in its way is Sanctaphrax, a magnificent city built on a floating rock and tethered to the land by a massive chain. Only one person can save the Edgelands from certain disaster: Twig, the young sky pirate captain who dared to sail over the Edge—and returned with his memory shattered and his crew flung far and wide. But to recover his memory and take action, Twig must first find his lost crew. And this means a journey back into the Deepwoods, and beyond. . . . “As before, Stewart’s descriptions are brilliant; Riddell’s line drawings are exquisitely detailed and notably grotesque. . . . Altogether this series is so exceptional that if I had any chance of collecting, I’d bet good money on it still being in print a century from now. . . . When’s the next book coming?”— Interzone “Fabulously illustrated. . . .”— The Sunday Times “Richly inventive. . . .”— Literary Review Paul Stewart is the cocreator of the bestselling Edge Chronicles series, with Chris Riddell. He is also the author of a number of previous titles for children including  The Wakening. Chris Riddell is the cocreator of the bestselling Edge Chronicles series, with Paul Stewart. He has illustrated many children's books, including the award-winning  Pirate Diary . He is also the political cartoonist for the  Guardian  and  Observer  newspapers. Out in the vast cloudscape, a lone sky ship in full sail cut through the thin air. Ahead, at the end of a rope-tether, a gigantic bird flapped its mighty black and white wings as it led the ship ever further into that place of terror for all the creatures from the Edge - open sky. 'Weather vortex straight ahead,' the small oakelf shouted from the caternest at the top of the main-mast. His voice was shrill with fear. 'And it's a monster!' Down at the helm of the Edgedancer, a young sky pirate captain in a hammelhornskin waistcoat raised his telescope to his eye with shaking hands. As he focused in on the dark, swirling air, his heart missed a beat. The approaching vortex was indeed monstrous. It was as if the great milky clouds were curdling and falling in on themselves, swirling into a great blood-red throat at the centre of which was an inky blackness that threatened to swallow the tiny sky ship whole. Twig nodded grimly. Already the currents of air around them were beginning to spin unpredictably. They were passing in and out of great banks of cloud; plummeting as they went in, soaring up again as they emerged on the other side. With the binding tether taut, the caterbird continued its steady, relentless flight. 'Surely this is madness!' complained the wiry weasel-faced quartermaster in the gaudy brocaded coat. He pulled the large tricorn hat from his head and wiped his sweaty brow. 'It's heading straight for the vortex.' 'We must follow where the caterbird leads, Sleet,' Twig shouted back. 'B . . . but . . .' stuttered Wingnut Sleet, his voice a thin whine. 'Sleet!' Twig called back. 'We are all in this together. Just make sure those tolley-ropes are securely cleated.' Muttering under his breath, the quartermaster went to do the young captain's bidding. On the lower deck, he found a heavy flat-head goblin clinging to the rigging, its eyes white with fear. 'Nothing to worry about, Bogwitt,' Sleet said through gritted teeth. 'If our young captain really does believe that that great scraggy bird can lead us to his long-lost father rather than to certain death in the heart of the vortex, then who are we to argue?' 'Who indeed!' shouted a stocky figure with the tell-tale flame-red skin and hair of a Deepwoods slaughterer. 'You signed on with Captain Twig, just like the rest of us. And I reckon, just like the rest of us, you saw something special in him - like he saw something special in each of us. We're the chosen few, we are, and we'll see this through to the end.' 'Yes, well,' replied Sleet uncertainly. 'The end seems rather closer than I'd expected.' 'Vortex, a hundred thousand strides and closing,' came the nerve-racked voice of Spooler from the caternest. 'It's all right to be afraid, Sleet,' murmured a soft, hissing voice from the shadows behind them. Sleet dropped the tolley-rope and turned. 'Reading my thoughts again, were you, Woodfish?' he said. Woodfish recoiled. He was a slight, reptilian individual with webbed hands and feet and enormous fanned ears which were constantly aquiver. 'I can't help it,' he apologized. 'It's what we waterwaifs do. And I can tell you this, too. The young captain knows this caterbird well. He was there at its hatching, and for that the creature is bound to watch over him as long as they both shall live. It was the caterbird who discovered T