Yipes went on, “He never tired of talking about you. Thinking of it now, it seems I should have figured this out on my own long ago.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. And then I turned to Armon. “I’m not angry, Armon. I’m sad to see you go, and I’m confused, but I’m not angry. Everything is all right.”
Armon rested Warvold in his lap, reached over with his one free hand, and pulled me close to him.
“It’s time for me to go,” he whispered. “My time here has been —” He broke off, overcome with emotion. He looked over my shoulder at Yipes, Odessa, and Murphy, then back at me. “You’ve been the friends I’d only hoped to find. Thank you for what you’ve done.”
He took hold of Warvold, rose up to his full height, and began walking toward the Tenth City. Yipes, Odessa, and Murphy came alongside me and we huddled together, watching Armon carry Warvold home, to places we couldn’t go just yet. Armon passed into the Tenth City and stood beside John Christopher, and when Armon turned around, Warvold was alive once more, his eyes sparkling, looking right at me. Armon set him on his feet, and the three of them — Warvold, John Christopher, and Armon — all smiled the most wonderful smiles. They were home in a place we would all be one day, and I knew then that we would see one another again. I knew then that we would have more, bigger adventures together when it was our time to leave The Land of Elyon.
The mist rolled back over the Tenth City, slowly at first, and then all of a sudden it was gone, and all we could see was white before us.
Abaddon is defeated. It’s time for you to go home, Alexa Daley.
The mist stopped short of us, and we stood in the Sly Field as the last of what Elyon had to say to us was said. I knew without trying that my time of talking with Murphy and Odessa and all the other animals was over, and that the voice of Elyon would no longer be audible to me.
“I suppose it’s just the four of us now,” said Yipes, and Murphy danced around on Odessa’s back, squeaking and carrying on. Squire screeched from the sky above, and I understood what she’d meant to say.
“Make that five,” I said to Yipes.
He looked up into the clear blue sky and then back at me. “Let’s go home,” he said, and the four of us began the long walk across the Sly Field.
CHAPTER 21
TOWARD HOME
We stopped in the night and laid out what little we had of food and comfort, which was a very little indeed. We stared up at the starry night, talking about all the adventures we’d had. The next morning we reached the edge of Fenwick Forest and were relieved to find that it was not as dead as it had been when we’d last seen it. Things were growing — flowers and leaves on the trees. The forest was finding its way back to the way it had once been.
We made our way to the grove and found all the animals I’d met so long ago waiting for us: Beaker the raccoon and Henry the badger; Picardy, the beautiful black bear, who stood with her mate who had returned since the walls had come down; Boone the bobcat, Raymond the fox, Vesper the woodchuck, Malcolm the rabbit — they were all here to greet us one last time.
Odessa ran forward when she saw her mate, Darius, and her son, Sherwin. It was marvelous to see them together again. Murphy stayed on her back and had some sort of words with Darius, words I was sure Darius could not understand, and then Murphy ran over to my feet and I picked him up.
“Will I ever see you again?” I said. “I think maybe I won’t, but that’s okay. We’ve had a good adventure together.”
I set him back down, and he looked up at me, his two front feet craning into the air.
“I’ll miss you, too,” I said, sure of what he’d tried to say to me.
Finally, I looked straight up the grove and saw Ander. Yipes and I walked toward him until we stood only a few feet away. He looked happy to see us, and that was more than any of his words could have given me.
Yipes and I walked on, some of the animals following for a while, until we were alone at the edge of the wood. Home was still a long walk down a dusty road, but we didn’t mind. The two of us talked the morning away, enjoying our memories of Warvold and the places we’d been together.
An hour into our walk, we heard horses coming up behind us from a long way off. Looking back toward Bridewell, we saw someone coming toward us at a fast clip. Not long after that, we saw that the cart was driven by James Daley, the man I had thought was my father all my life. Nicolas sat beside him and Pervis Kotcher behind, the three of them looking very excited to see us on the road to Lathbury.
The moment the cart met up with us, James Daley halted the horses and jumped down onto the ground, running to greet me. He bent down on one knee and took me in his arms, and it felt like it always had. He was still my father in many ways, and I still loved him very much.
“You gave us quite a scare, Alexa,” he said. “We’ve been trying to find you ever since Grindall and the ogres left Bridewell.”
“We’ve got quite a story to tell you,” I said. “But for now you should know that Warvold is gone, I mean really gone this time.” I paused a moment, letting that sink in. Pervis and Nicolas had heard me say it, and they stayed back, quietly contemplating the news.
“Did he say anything to you — anything you might not have expected — before the end?” Father asked.
I took a moment to think this question over, wondering how I should respond. This man had acted as my father when I needed a protector. My true father had always favored this man, and I favored him, too. I didn’t want to hurt him now, not after all that he’d already been through.
“I know the secret,” I said, and then I whispered, “Does Nicolas know?”
I didn’t get a response — just a pained look.
“Father,” I said, and he smiled a little, his eyes lighting up. “You’re still my father. You always will be.”
It was truly how I felt. Warvold had not abandoned me. Instead he had put me in the care of this wonderful man while he stayed close by and made sure I was safe. Warvold was my father, but so was James Daley.
“He knows,” Father said. “Nicolas knows.”
I walked over to the cart and stared up at Nicolas.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “All these years you never let on. It makes me feel as though maybe Thomas Warvold favored you over me.”
Nicolas stepped down off the cart and put his arm on my shoulder.
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” he said. “You were always on his mind. You’re all he talked about when it was just he and I. He knew he’d done the right thing. If Victor Grindall had known about you, I’m afraid you’d have been gone a long time ago. And The Land of Elyon would be in much worse shape than it is right now.”
We smiled at each other, and I was suddenly very happy to have an older brother. There was a lot to talk about, but now wasn’t the time. I felt an overwhelming desire to see Catherine and Laura. With the cart, we could be home quickly.
I sat by my father with Yipes next to me while Pervis and Nicolas took the back end of the cart. There were many questions and much discussion on that ride home to Lathbury, and the hour-long trip passed very quickly. It was odd in a way, this trip home. I was on the same road where it had all begun, only this time there were no walls but the ones around Bridewell and we were going in the opposite direction. As the conversation wound down, I turned to my father and made a request.
“Father?”
“Yes, Alexa.”
“Tell me about when the walls were built, won’t you?”
“That old legend? You’ve heard that a million times already.”
But he was a storyteller, and this was one of his favorites, so he told it once more, and I loved hearing it more than I ever had before. We arrived in Lathbury just as he was finishing, and I felt a sudden sadness as I realized my adventure was over as well. My heart ached for Murphy, Odessa, John Christopher, Armon, and Warvold, and I wondered if I would ever stop missing them.
We drove through the town an
d stopped right in front of my little house. I stayed on the cart for a long time while everyone else got off and stood waiting for me. Then the door to my house opened up, and two women stepped out. One was my birth mother, the other the mother who’d raised me. They both looked at me as though they weren’t sure how I felt about them. These two sisters, who had held on to the secret for so long in order to make me safe; now they were worried that I might not love them anymore. Sometimes adults can be silly that way.
I came down from the cart and ran to them, embraced them, cried with them until there were no more tears left for anyone. Even Pervis and Yipes were blubbering, which eventually got us all laughing a little and began the process of healing our broken hearts. I had to tell them both that Warvold was gone, and that Armon was gone, too. But I also got to share what I’d seen of the Tenth City, how we’d all be going there someday, and how we would meet up with them again.
I stayed in Lathbury for a while after that, and Yipes stayed with me. We took time to rest and eat lots and lots of food. We mended books just for fun. I took long walks along the cliffs with Catherine and Laura, sometimes the three of us together, other times just with one of them, and we talked about things that are secrets between mothers and daughters. It was breathtaking to look out over the bright blue of the Lonely Sea where once there were only clouds.
Balmoral came to Lathbury a week after our arrival. We had the joy and the sorrow of telling him everything that had happened. He talked of progress in Castalia, and he brought with him the body of John Christopher. When we buried him near the cliffs it helped me to start looking forward rather than back, which was something I needed to begin doing. As exciting, difficult, and memorable as our pasts can be, there comes a time when we have to get on with living.
Almost a year went by, and Yipes never left to go back to his home in the mountains. I think that somehow he and I needed each other more than ever; to be apart would have been too hard. And then one day the two of us looked at each other in a way that we both understood.
“There’s adventure to be had out there,” said Yipes.
“I know,” I replied.
“What would you think of wandering off to Mount Laythen for a spell? You’re old enough, you know. They’ll let you go. I’ve heard tales of a strange man who lives in those parts, inventing strange things.”
I looked at Yipes for a long time without answering, and then I said something that had been haunting me since we’d returned home.
“I wonder where Roland and the Warwick Beacon have gone off to.”
It wasn’t too long after I said these words that I saw the Warwick Beacon on the horizon through my mother’s spyglass. It came to a stop at the bottom of the cliffs, and Roland climbed up the rope that hung there (a rope, by the way, that was hidden well enough and had been put there by James Daley. He had fashioned it with a crank that was surrounded by tall rocks, a crank that Laura had used to hoist up Catherine out of the Lonely Sea when she’d first come home).
The whole town greeted Roland, and Catherine was especially happy to see that he was safe. He was Thomas Warvold’s brother, and I think he knew before we told him that Thomas was gone.
“We’ll see him again,” he said, but he was still very sad to learn of the news. He seemed to age before my eyes at the thought of his brother forever gone from The Land of Elyon.
“Where have you been all this time?” I asked.
Roland just looked out over the sea with a half smile on his face, the wind at the cliff’s edge dancing in his hair.
“Home,” he said. “Where I was meant to be.”
Thomas and Roland Warvold, the two greatest adventurers of our time. One by land and one by sea — and the one by sea was still busy at his adventures.
Roland stayed on for a time, and then Yipes and I began pestering him about his plans. The three of us sat by the cliffs above the Warwick Beacon and talked about our future. Then one day Roland decided it was time to go. The town gave him enough provisions to last a very long time and threw him a big farewell party. The farewell party wasn’t just for him — it was for Yipes and me, too. After long discussions with Catherine, Laura, and James, I was able to convince them this was what I was meant to do. I’d been home long enough.
And this is where the story I’ve been telling you finally catches up to where I am now, sitting on the deck of the Warwick Beacon, writing down everything so I won’t forget it. Yipes and Roland are my companions, and we are on the water somewhere far away from The Land of Elyon. The crisp sea air is salty on my lips and thick in my hair. As I look out in every direction I see nothing but blue water everywhere, and I wonder if there’s anything out here to find. I ask Roland the same question I’ve asked him a hundred times already.
“Roland, is there much out here to discover? Out here on the Lonely Sea?”
Roland is at the wheel, looking very much like the captain he is, and he gives me the same answer he always does.
“More than you can imagine.”
I do wonder where this story will lead, if there will be more adventure in this life and what it will be like when I return to the Tenth City someday in the distant future. For now I am content — as you should be — to sit on the deck of a ship at sea with Yipes at my side, not knowing where the story will lead me next.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PATRICK CARMAN maintains that he does not now have, nor has he ever possessed, a Jocasta or any other type of gemstone that offers the power of interspecies communication, telepathic or otherwise. Parties interested in obtaining such a stone are well advised to look elsewhere.
Mr. Carman does, however, speak to young people of his own species, sometimes aloud and sometimes in print. He makes his home in the wilderness of eastern Washington and insists that it is a rather ordinary home and is not, in fact, surrounded by stone walls.
Mr. Carman plays no musical instruments, but he has been known to torture dinner guests with attempts on the harmonica. He divides his time between writing, public speaking, spending time with his wife and two daughters, reading, fly-fishing, paragliding, and snow-boarding.
To learn more about
Patrick Carman and The Land of Elyon
visit:
www.landofelyon.com
Copyright
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
This book was originally published in hardcover by Orchard Books in 2006.
Copyright © 2006 by Patrick Carman.
Cover art by Brad Weinman
Cover design by Steve Scott
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
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e-ISBN 978-0-545-30383-5
Patrick Carman, The Tenth City
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