The Tenth City Page 2

  Roland kept on, explaining that the place I spoke of was so dangerous he’d never even considered going there. Only once had he tried to approach it, from miles offshore. The winds had been so strong that they nearly capsized the boat before he veered off and ended up all the way near Ainsworth.

  “Still,” Roland finished, “it would be quite an adventure to try.” A smile crept over his face, and his eyes went glassy and distant.

  Warvold looked at Catherine, her eyes barely open and her skin a pale white chalk.

  “Are you sure, Alexa?” he asked.

  I nodded, convinced of what I’d heard. I could tell he was troubled by the idea of leaving Catherine’s side again.

  “We’ll need to get Catherine off the boat where she can regain her strength,” he decided. “This journey will be too much for her.”

  He looked at his brother and asked him a question. “Can you stop us at Lathbury, as we’d planned, before we go racing around the corner into the cliffs?”

  “I can,” Roland answered, and he went along merrily puffing his pipe, the adventurer in him already thinking of the untold dangers that awaited us.

  We all sat silent then, wondering what to do. I was worried for Yipes, but I was also scared to go around the corner from Turlock. It seemed that the Lonely Sea was angry in those parts … and I didn’t see how we could overcome the jagged cliffs that awaited us.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE STORM

  As the sun rose I could see light creeping into the mist above. It made me feel much better as we all milled around the deck waiting for Roland to tell us where we were. Warvold had been particularly quiet all morning, preparing to leave Catherine behind yet again.

  As we arrived at the base of Lathbury, Roland pulled the ship closer to the cliffs, but not so close that we were in danger of crashing against the rocks. Roland had a small, two-person boat on deck that he held over the sea on ropes and poles. When the small boat was clear of the Warwick Beacon, he let out the ropes until the little vessel bobbed softly on the water. The seas were calm, an ominous silence before the storms that awaited us beyond Turlock.

  Warvold sat alone with Catherine, and they whispered to each other things I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t take my eyes off them, and I was surprised to see them looking my way more than once as they spoke. There was something special about these two, a connection I felt to them that I couldn’t quite understand. Seeing them huddled together made me feel sad that they were parting again so soon.

  Eventually, the two of them walked slowly over to the rest of us. Catherine gave me a hug, squeezing my little bones tightly in her grasp.

  “You be careful now,” she said. Then she released me and looked deep into my eyes. “I’ll be waiting for you in Lathbury.”

  I was excited to get back home, to see not only her but my father and mother as well. It had been a long journey, but as I watched Catherine carefully climb down to the small boat I felt certain the most dangerous stretch remained. I wondered if I would ever see her again.

  Warvold got into the boat with her and paddled them the short distance to the cliffs where we could all see a red flag hanging from a rope against the rocks. This rope was very thick and even had a seat of leather hanging at its bottom. Whoever put it there was expecting to haul people up the sheer cliffs. I was terribly curious who it might be.

  Warvold got Catherine settled in the seat, kissed her, then pulled hard on the rope three times. There was a long pause, and then we all watched as the rope lurched to life and Catherine was carried up the side of the cliff, far into the air, until she disappeared into the mist. When I looked back to Warvold, he was already halfway back to our boat. Squire landed on the front of the little dinghy, keeping him company on the Lonely Sea.

  “That can’t have been easy,” said Murphy, sitting on my shoulder. “It makes me wonder about Yipes, all alone with those awful ogres. I hope he’ll be all right.”

  I felt awful that we couldn’t all go up the rope together and make plans to sneak into Bridewell and rescue him. I was mystified that Elyon was sending us by another way, into a place Roland didn’t even think we could survive.

  Once Warvold was back on board, Roland lifted the undamaged sails, and the early morning flew by quickly. We approached, then passed around Turlock, the winds not quite as strong as Roland had remembered them.

  “Could it be that the winds have finally tired of their constant blowing?” he said.

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than the winds became more violent, the waves crashing against the ship and pushing it toward the cliffs. Rain came tumbling out of the sky like no rain I’d ever seen before. It felt as though the sky above us had waited for our arrival and held on to more and more water, month after month, only to drop it all on the Warwick Beacon.

  There was a sound then, a roaring from the east, and we all turned to see what it was. Through the driving rain we all saw the wind coming straight at us. We could see it off in the distance lifting the water into great waves. The storm didn’t creep up on our boat like a cat will sneak up on a mouse. It leaped on top of us all at once without warning, and we began to tumble on the waves toward the cliffs.

  We were barely around the corner of Turlock, and already something was set against us. There was no place for us here, only the rocks and the bottom of the sea. We had ventured into a place we should not have.

  “We must turn back!” shouted Roland. “There’s still time to swing her around and escape the storm!”

  Just then a giant wave rolled over the ship, and we were all left scrambling for a hold. When I could see again, I saw Warvold advancing on me quickly.

  “Get below with Murphy and Odessa!” he yelled. “We’ll turn her around and try to get out.”

  I did as I was told and began scrambling across the deck as quickly as I could, holding on to the rail as I went. I looked out into the raging sea just in time to see another wave about to hit the boat, this one bigger than all the rest. I held on as tightly as I could, but it was no use. I flew free with the wave, out into the Lonely Sea.

  It was strangely quiet under the water, like holding a pillow over my ears when there were storms back home. It was almost serene compared to the storm raging overhead. The sound of the rain pelting the sea made me feel as if I was under a giant blanket, a thousand tiny pebbles bouncing off the surface.

  Don’t let them turn back.

  In the quiet of the water I heard these five words and I didn’t understand them. How could Elyon want for us to be smashed against the rocks or capsized on the Lonely Sea? I felt a blow on my back, and I thought I’d landed in the rocks.

  To my surprise I was lifted out of the water, into the wrath of the storm, then set down on the deck of the Warwick Beacon.

  “Are you all right?” Ar mon yelled, trying to overcome the sound of the howling wind. He had plucked me out of the sea with his giant hands.

  “I’m okay!” I shouted back, wiping the water from my eyes and face. “Where’s everyone else?”

  Armon pointed to the front of the boat where the three men — Warvold, Balmoral, and Roland — were trying to turn the wheel and face the ship back toward Turlock.

  I ran across the slippery deck as more waves crashed over the boat.

  “Don’t do that! Keep going into the storm!” I screamed.

  “Have you gone mad?” yelled Roland. “We can’t make it, Alexa. If we don’t turn back now we’ll be thrown into the rocks.”

  Warvold crawled across the deck on his hands and knees until he met with me, rain running down his face. He took hold of both my shoulders.

  “Are you sure, Alexa?”

  I looked at him pleadingly and nodded, though I couldn’t have expected him to trust me.

  “Stay the course!” yelled Warvold. “Point her straight down the side of the cliffs and hang on!”

  Roland and Balmoral looked stunned, and I wondered if they might throw us belowdecks and turn back anyway. Armon came along
side the men and put to rest any such thoughts they might have had. He took the wheel in his mighty hands and turned it a few times around, heading us perfectly parallel to the cliffs and away from Turlock.

  I crawled over to the wheel, and Armon put one of his hands around my waist and lifted me to his side, determined not to let me tumble overboard again. And then we all held on and prayed that the waves wouldn’t push us into the cliffs and bring our adventure to an end.

  We were a hundred feet from the rocks and closing the gap fast. A short time more and the Warwick Beacon would be dashed against the cliffs. I began to think of all the things we’d accomplished, only to find ourselves caught in a storm we couldn’t escape. We were utterly helpless against its fury. I looked up at Armon, and he smiled at me, the beads of water running around his eyes and his big nose, and I remembered how I’d felt this very same way when we were pinned down in the Dark Hills, the ogres walking out to find us. Armon had appeared as if out of the very air, and we were saved. Unlikely as it seemed, I had to believe Elyon had some plan we couldn’t understand that would protect the Warwick Beacon from the cliffs.

  The storm seemed to reach its peak, waves and wind rushing in from all sides, the boat tossed on the Lonely Sea like a feather twisting in a gale. We were spinning around in circles, and I was losing any sense of where we were.

  “Something’s not right about this!” It was Roland, yelling into the storm. He was frantically turning his head from side to side trying to figure out where the cliffs were in all the rain as the ship continued to spin uncontrollably.

  “The storm has changed, and for once I’m excited to say that it’s gotten much worse!”

  The Lonely Sea must have finally sent poor Roland into a fit of hysteria. He was laughing uncontrollably, throwing back his head as he held the rail of his beloved ship.

  “He’s gone mad!” said Balmoral.

  “No, he hasn’t,” said Warvold. “He’s right. The winds are coming down the cliffs directly at us just as the winds from the sea are pushing us into them. We’re at the center of the storm, where two forces push against each other.”

  We all looked on in awe as the Warwick Beacon stopped spinning and righted its course parallel with the cliffs only a hundred feet away. Warvold was right. Wind was billowing both down from the cliffs and in from the Lonely Sea, two forces set against each other, our ship now stuck in the middle of the two.

  The storm did not subside. If anything it grew fiercer as the two sides pushed against each other equally, shooting us down the middle of the eye of the storm.

  “Everyone belowdecks!” yelled Roland. And then he looked at Armon. “Everyone but you.”

  It was the only thing to do. If we stayed out in the storm much longer, one of us was sure to go overboard. Armon set me down on the slippery deck. I huddled together with Balmoral and Warvold, and we slowly made our way back to the door in the floor that led to the cabin. Balmoral flung it open, and it was nearly torn free in the storm as water rushed down into the belly of the ship. Warvold pushed me inside, and I turned one last time. Through the driving rain I saw Armon standing over Roland, the two of them holding the wheel steady. Roland wasn’t about to miss the storm of his life.

  I stumbled down the stairs, followed by Warvold. Then Balmoral heaved the door shut behind him with a mighty bang, and we were sealed in with Odessa and Murphy.

  The Warwick Beacon rolled back and forth on the sea, creaking with every crashing wave, and I thought the whole ship would be blown apart. I wondered where Squire had gone off to, if she’d cleared the clouds and was watching the storm from above.

  Hours passed as we waited in the damp hull of the ship, hanging on to beams as we rocked back and forth on the waves. I kept thinking the storm would shift and we would crash into the cliffs at any moment. I wondered if our friends were even on the deck any longer, or if they’d been thrown clear into the raging sea.

  It was a terrible, long day that seemed to go on forever.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE CLIFFS

  “There are nine cities that I know of in The Land of Elyon.” It was Warvold, speaking the words over the sound of the storm outside. It was hard to tell how long we’d been belowdecks, but it was a long time indeed.

  I had found a corner to sit in where I wouldn’t be thrown from side to side as the boat rocked violently. Murphy sat in my lap, as was his habit. Either he was more frightened than usual — or he was cold, because he wouldn’t stop shivering.

  “Nine cities that I’ve seen with my own eyes,” Warvold continued, and then he proceeded to whisper each of them too quietly for me to hear, though I knew their names.

  Bridewell, Turlock, Lathbury, Lunenburg, Ainsworth, the Western Kingdom, Castalia, and the two Northern Kingdoms.

  “But there is one other,” Warvold said aloud. “One I thought could never be reached.”

  He sat silent and steadied himself at the sound of another wave hitting the ship.

  “The Tenth City,” he told us. “Beyond the Sly Field and through the eternal mist, in a place no one has ever found. I wonder if we might see this place before too long, if this old boat can find its way.”

  There was very little light to be had belowdecks, only what was cast inside from the cracks where drops of water came in. But I could see the twinkling in Warvold’s eyes, as if he’d spoken of a treasure he’d long thought unattainable, now suddenly within reach.

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” said Odessa. “Even the animals have searched for such a place, but none have found it. It may be that it’s only in our imagination, put there to remind us of who created all this.”

  I told Warvold what the wolf had said, and we were all met with a long silence from our old friend.

  “You may be right, Odessa,” he finally answered. “But something tells me if it’s a real place, I’m closer to it now than I’ve ever been. I’ve traveled the whole of The Land of Elyon and turned over most of the rocks on my way. But the mist beyond the Sly Field is impassable. Somehow it doesn’t matter where you go in. The Sly Field always spits you back out again, farther away from where you were trying to go.”

  I piped in then, interested in what Warvold was saying.

  “I read a book once about a man named Cabeza de Vaca. He tried to find the Tenth City, but he got lost, just like you. He finally gave up trying.”

  “I knew him well,” Warvold replied, a slight smile on his face. “Cabeza and I compared notes, but nothing came of it. It’s as if whatever lies beyond the field of mist is hidden for some purpose we can’t understand. Either that or some riddle keeps us from it.”

  The sea seemed to calm for a moment, and we rolled up and down on a large, slow wave. Warvold broke the silence as though he hadn’t even noticed the storm had turned less violent.

  “The Tenth City,” he said. “The most secret place, a place untouched by human or beast — and we may yet stumble onto it if we can overcome the storm.”

  Just as he said it, the door to the cabin flew open, and Roland came bounding down the stairs two at a time. The light from outside was faint, and I understood immediately that we’d passed through the entire day and were approaching late afternoon. A few more hours and night would return.

  Roland, dripping wet and breathless, held on to the beam next to the stairs and yelled at us all.

  “The storm still rages on, but it’s come down a notch. It’s the strangest thing. We’ve been pushed closer to the cliffs, but that unexplainable wind coming off the rock face keeps holding us away from crashing into the rocks. The storm from the sea seems to have worn itself out, and it, too, is less fierce.”

  “It sounds as though the rains have stopped as well,” said Balmoral.

  “They have,” answered Roland. “Might you take the wheel for a spell if I show you how it’s done?”

  Balmoral was up on his feet immediately and walking for the door.

  “Anything would be better than sitting down here any long
er,” he complained. He was up the stairs and out the door before Roland could change his mind. Warvold and Odessa followed, then Roland disappeared back into what remained of the storm on deck.

  For some reason I stayed where I was. Something about what I would see when I went outside scared me.

  “Murphy?” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you promise to stay with me no matter what?”

  He leaped out of my hands onto my shoulder, digging his little claws into my wet clothing.

  “I promise,” he said.

  “All right, then. Stay where you are and hold on tight. I have word from Elyon, and I can’t do what I’m told without you. I’m too frightened.”

  Murphy swung his head around and tried to catch my eye. We looked at each other in the dimly lit cabin, and he smiled and chirped.

  “I just love being in on all the secret things, don’t you?”

  I only nodded and patted him on the head. Then I got up, marched over to the stairs, and climbed up into the light of day.

  The storm had settled, but winds still billowed on both sides of the boat, holding it steady about a hundred feet off the cliffs. Everyone was gathered around the captain’s wheel where Balmoral was keeping the Warwick Beacon steadily parallel to the cliffs. I caught Armon’s eye and motioned for him to come see me, and he broke away from the group.

  He bent down on one knee and lowered his giant head down toward me.

  “Armon, there’s something you must help me with, but I’m not sure you’re going to want to do it,” I said.

  Armon turned back to look at the group of men standing together with Odessa, then we both looked up and watched as Squire shot through the mist and held steady in the driving wind. A moment later she turned once over the boat and flew back into the mist to places we couldn’t see. I wondered then if the storm was happening above the mist as well, or if it was contained below on the Lonely Sea. It was an odd thought to imagine a pristine day above while a storm raged below, but it seemed to me that this might be the way of things. Elyon and Abaddon were fighting each other, the strength of both focused entirely on the Warwick Beacon and the treasure it held. It wasn’t so hard to believe that things back home might have remained quite ordinary.