The Tenth City

  “It was hard to let him stay, but they need him there, and we couldn’t risk losing him in the coming days,” Warvold explained. “Castalia must be rebuilt, and Balmoral must lead them. He is where he ought to be, just like the rest of us.”

  Finishing the story, Warvold told of riding on the back of a giant through the haze of morning, how Armon was tireless in his effort to make it to the forest council, and what a wonderful adventure it had been.

  “He is a most amazing creature,” said Warvold, looking at Armon with great pleasure. “We came upon you here as we made our way. As we come near to the end, we are back together again, as it should be.”

  Yipes was free. Armon and Warvold were with me and Murphy once more. I felt a sudden wave of confidence that we could yet succeed in our task. And then I noticed Murphy looking around the many faces, confused.

  “Where is Odessa?” he asked.

  CHAPTER 14

  FENWICK FOREST

  I assured everyone that the most promising place to meet up with Odessa again would be at the forest council. It was here that I had first encountered Odessa with her son, Sherwin, and it was here that we hoped to find help in our quest across the forest and toward the Tenth City.

  At the behest of Armon and Warvold, we drew deeper into the wild, away from Bridewell. As we neared the road that led between Turlock and Bridewell, we began finding the stones that used to make up the wall alongside it. Big square blocks sat surrounded by weeds and underbrush. It was a sea of broken wall, scattered through the trees and growing old as though those stones had been there all along. I had a sudden longing to turn and run toward my home in Lathbury, to lie on the bed in the privacy of my own room and sleep the day away alone.

  “This road is watched,” Warvold warned us. “We must be very careful as we cross into Fenwick Forest. It’s hard to say what awaits us in the dark of the wood.”

  We sent Murphy and Malcolm ahead to scout while the rest of us waited and whispered among the stones and the trees.

  I whispered to Armon, “I’m so happy you’re safe. How on earth did you escape the bats?”

  He smiled and leaned down close to me. “A giant is faster of foot than you might imagine,” he said. “And I have a few hiding places of my own for times such as these.”

  The sun rose in the sky, bringing the heat of late morning with it. It frightened me to think of the day drifting away, taking my father with it. I turned back in the direction of Bridewell and saw Warvold crouching in the dirt, looking at me as if he knew I was concerned about something.

  “What troubles you, Alexa?”

  “Things keep getting more dangerous,” I answered. “I fear something terrible will happen soon, and it scares me to think about it.”

  Warvold nodded, his eyes glazed over as if he were lost in a distant memory.

  “I have felt the same as you,” he told me. “When we left Balmoral in Castalia, I voiced my fears to him, wondering what he might say. He told me that when you’ve lived through a generation of troubled times, slaving for an evil man as he has, watching your friends and family fall before you —” Warvold stopped short, overcome with anger and sadness. “When you’ve lived through a thing like that,” he continued, “nothing seems dangerous anymore. It all just seems normal, as though every day brings hardship, and to think it might be otherwise is the way of fools.”

  “It seems like a dark way to live, never expecting to see the world rid of things like Grindall and the ogres,” I said.

  Warvold smiled at me, his anger with the past softening. “Balmoral told me one more thing before he disappeared into the mist at Castalia. He told me the world is full of danger and full of stories. And then he asked me what sort of story we would have to tell if there were nothing for good people to fight for.”

  Warvold touched my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes. “I think we were meant to fight a good fight, and I think we’re better for fighting it.”

  I hadn’t thought of things in quite that way before, but I supposed Balmoral and Warvold were right. If my father had to die in order to free The Land of Elyon from the evils of Abaddon, at least he would die trying to preserve Bridewell and its people. His story would be a good one, remembered and talked about.

  “We can cross now.” It was Murphy, back from checking the road. He was fidgeting on top of the rock I was hiding behind. As I stood to go, he leaped onto my pack and held on to the leather with his tiny claws.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” said Warvold. “We need you to stay out front and watch for anything unusual. A rustle in the bushes, a strange smell — if you sense the slightest oddity, you must warn us.”

  Murphy jumped down immediately and darted back to the road, crossed over, and disappeared into the trees on the other side.

  “Off we go then,” said Warvold. “Across the road and quickly!”

  Armon went first and was across the road in three giant steps before the rest of us could get started. Warvold followed, then Yipes, and finally me. We ran across the road as quickly as we could, down into the thick woods on the other side, Armon clearing a path before us as we went. There was no sign of Squire, gone off again to places I couldn’t see.

  Something was different about the forest from the way I’d remembered it. Before, when I’d come to visit the forest council, it had seemed wild and untamed but still somehow friendly and inviting. Today I felt afraid of the forest. It was darker than I remembered it, more forbidding. Had something changed this place in my short absence?

  “Slow down, Armon,” Yipes called. “You’ll get us lost.”

  Armon stopped and looked back, waiting for the group to arrive at his feet. It didn’t matter how many times I stood at the foot of this giant — each time I was newly amazed at his grandeur, his overwhelming presence. As I stood beneath him and craned my neck to see his face, my fear of Fenwick Forest began to fade.

  “There used to be a trail near here,” said Yipes. “It seems that things have grown over. This place is different, wilder than when I last passed through.”

  Warvold nodded his agreement and whispered, “Abaddon.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Armon.

  Warvold looked around in all directions and squinted up into the trees. He continued, “A long time ago, I traveled through the Sly Field and into Fenwick Forest with a friend of mine. He was a great explorer in his own right, and though we did not find the Tenth City on that day, we both agreed that something else was near these parts. Wherever it is that Abaddon makes his home, it’s not too terribly far from the woods.”

  “Yes, but why the sudden change in the way this place feels, the way it grows wilder?” asked Yipes.

  “Abaddon is mustering all his powers to find us,” Warvold explained. “I think he knew we would come this way, and so he has made our journey more treacherous. I fear things will change for the worse as we travel deeper into the woods.”

  The hair rose on my neck, and a cold chill ran through my body.

  “Who was the friend, the one who traveled with you?” I asked, though I felt sure I knew the answer before he offered it.

  “His name was Cabeza de Vaca — a very interesting man, well traveled and always in search of the Tenth City. He presides over the Western Kingdom now, though I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  Cabeza de Vaca. I’d read his book, used it to judge the distance to the bottom of the tunnel on my first journey outside the walls. It was comforting to hear his name once more.

  “In any case, we must travel carefully,” said Warvold. “This place is not what it once was, and neither are the creatures that make their home here.”

  “I think I can find my way to the forest council,” said Yipes. “But I wonder now if we ought to go there.”

  It was a terrible thought. Could it be that Abaddon had somehow turned the forest animals against us? If so, I surely wouldn’t want to stand face-to-face with Ander. Even Armon would have a battle on his hands trying to contain a creature so f
ierce.

  “I think we risk it,” said Armon. “Abaddon may have turned this wood into a dark place, but we have to hope the animals will be able to help us find our way.”

  There was silence among the group, as we listened to the wind sweep in around us. Some of the largest of the trees groaned as if the wind might tear them from their roots.

  “Yipes, you jump up there on Armon’s shoulders,” said Warvold. “The two of you can lead the way.”

  We continued deeper into the forest and found that the farther we went, the more the trees groaned against the pushing of the wind. The trunks became darker, limbs fallen, and our passage was hindered by thorny walls of dead blackberry bushes and thick brown vines along the floor of the wood.

  “Warvold,” I said, taken aback by what I was seeing, “this place is dying.”

  He kept walking without answering me, and I felt his sadness at the sight of this once-great forest. A gust of wind blew from somewhere far away, and in the distance we heard a mighty cracking of wood and the sound of a tree falling to the ground. The trees were growing old before our eyes, and looking up I realized that there were no leaves left on them, no leaves flying through the air on the wind. It was summer in The Land of Elyon, but I saw now that the deeper we went into the forest, the more it seemed as if winter had somehow come to this place — a winter without the blistering cold, but a winter nonetheless. Everything was dormant or dead.

  “We’re close,” said Yipes, turning toward us from his perch on Armon’s shoulders. “Only a little farther and we’ll be in the grove.”

  It was impossible to keep quiet now. With every step Armon took, the forest floor cracked with dead branches. If someone was waiting for us in the grove he would be well aware of our arrival. Armon fought through a final thick casing of thorny bushes with his sword, and there before us was the secret place where I’d first met the forest council.

  The lush grass and towering trees of green and gold were no longer part of this place. All that remained were the stones the animals had sat upon, surrounded by a sea of death — fallen trees crusted with wrinkled leaves, the lush grass turned to brown stubble. At the far end of the grove sat a large, lonely figure, his head turned down to the ground. It was the only animal, and as we emerged out of the trees and into the open the beast lifted his head and looked at us.

  “I had a feeling you might find your way back here.” It was Ander, the grizzly bear and keeper of the forest, and he didn’t look at all happy to see us.

  Other animals crept into view and sat among the fallen trees and ancient stones. Darius and Sherwin were not among them, and many of the faces were not familiar or friendly. As we stood in the gloom of the grove, Ander said something I hadn’t expected him to say.

  “Why have you done this to my forest?” There was anger in his eyes as he rose to his full height and glared in our direction. He began to shake with rage as he looked around the grove. “Answer me!”

  I was the only one who understood this booming request. Everyone else heard a monstrous roar of the kind they’d never heard before. I had hoped the forest council would be a place where we could find help from friends. Instead I felt more afraid and unsure than ever.

  “What’s he saying, Alexa?” Warvold asked. I didn’t have a chance to answer him, for at that very moment Ander began charging toward us.

  I held my breath and hoped something would stop Ander from his attack. If he wasn’t stopped, he would meet with Armon first and the two of them would tear each other to shreds. How could he think that we had done this to his home? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as Armon steadied himself, and Ander advanced quickly from the far side of the grove. For the first time that I could remember, I put a direct question to Elyon, hoping for an answer that could stop the charging grizzly bear.

  What shall I do, Elyon?

  To my surprise, the answer came the moment I’d thought of the question.

  Stand between Ander and Armon.

  Without further thought, I ran in front of Armon and stood between him and the approaching bear, certain that my short life was about to come to a painful and quick end.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE GROVE

  I remember hearing Warvold’s voice, screaming for me to get out of the way. But I stood frozen as Ander came within a few feet of my face, his teeth gleaming in the sun that swept through the branches of the bare trees. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine, and that final moment seemed to last a lifetime. In his eyes I saw such terrible sadness, a misery he alone could understand as his world was dying all around him. I tried to send a message back in my own eyes: We didn’t do this. We need your help to put it back the way it was.

  Ander came so close and with such force that nothing else existed. Not the wood or my friends or my world — only those desperate, sad eyes. Later I would learn that grizzly bears will often charge an intruder, only to turn at the last second and run off into the trees, as if it were a game to see if the intruder would turn and try to run away. I could not imagine Ander any closer than he was when he turned, his massive shoulder grazing mine as he went by. After he was past me, he stopped faster than I thought possible and reared up on his two back legs, his back to Armon and the rest of us.

  Ander made a sound then that I will never forget. It was a sound of anguish and despair, a haunting growl that was caught on the wind and carried through the forest. He was crying.

  I sat down in the dead grass of the grove and watched as Ander came back down on his four legs, turned, and stood before us. The many animals who had gathered in the grove were moving closer, acting as though they would all attack us together at any moment. Badgers and mountain lions and wolves — too much for us to overcome.

  “Leave them be,” Ander said to the animals. “We must take a moment to talk this through before proceeding.”

  The forest had taken us captive, and there would be no escaping from all the animals of the wood. If they wanted to tear us apart, then we would be torn apart. As Ander retreated to the center of the grove and sat down, I knew we would have to convince him that we were not responsible for what had happened to his home. Either that or we would never see the light of another day.

  “Your foolishness may well have saved us,” said Warvold. I looked up at him and saw a look of great relief in his eyes. “You will have to talk with him, Alexa. No one else can understand what he’s saying.”

  I started walking slowly toward the center of the grove where the mighty bear sat all alone. Armon came up beside me, sword drawn, and kept my slow pace.

  “You’d better stay back with the others, Armon,” I cautioned. “He won’t trust me if you’re towering over us, waiting to do him in.”

  Armon bent down on one knee and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  “No, I’m really not sure at all. But I know this bear. Unless Abaddon has somehow possessed him as he has the forest, I think I can talk to him.”

  Armon sighed deeply, stood, and returned his sword to its sheath. I walked the rest of the way by myself. The crunching of the broken forest lay beneath me as I went, and the air was dirty like the road to Bridewell on a dry day.

  Sitting down in front of Ander I felt a terrible loss as I looked at his old claws clumped with dirt. He was an old bear, full of memory, of things I’d only dreamed.

  “I’m so sorry, Ander,” I began. “But we didn’t do this to your forest. It was someone else.”

  “Was it, Alexa?”

  “Yes, it was. Maybe we can put it back the way it was if you’ll help us find our way.”

  Ander put his head down near mine and sniffed the air around me, blowing my hair back as he exhaled. Tiny droplets of water sprayed from his nose and landed on my cheeks. I wiped them away.

  “You tried to help us once,” he said. “When men built the walls that separated everything, you tried to help us.”

  I nodded, not knowing what to s
ay.

  “But it was men who built the walls to begin with, men who thought nothing of us in all their planning and destroying.”

  Ander looked across the grove at Warvold, and I turned to see how my friend would react. Warvold couldn’t know what Ander was saying, and he was not looking in our direction. Instead, he was standing next to a fallen tree, running his fingers over a broken branch. It looked as though he was feeling very sorry for himself.

  “Why must you always make such trouble?” Ander asked.

  “I’m only a child,” I said, not knowing what else I could offer. “I don’t know what to say to you, only that we’re sorry the forest is failing and that we want to make it better.”

  “I wonder how long it would have taken for you to come and cut down all the trees for your houses and your buildings,” said Ander. “This forest has been taken by a terrible evil, but in years to come I fear you’d have taken it from us out of your own greed.”

  “No, Ander! We would never do that,” I said. “You have to believe me.”

  Ander looked at me and for the first time there was kindness in his eyes.

  “I do believe you, Alexa Daley. There are some of your kind who want what’s best for everything that lives in The Land of Elyon. There are others who want to destroy it.” He looked again at Warvold. “Even he wanted only to protect, not to destroy, though he harmed us in the process.”

  We sat alone in the grove for a long, silent moment.

  “What is it that you want from me, Alexa? I fear my time is coming to an end along with the woods.”

  There was nothing more to do but boldly ask for what we needed.

  “Can you help us find the Tenth City, Ander? I don’t know what we’ll do when we get there, but maybe it will help restore this place if we can find it.”

  Ander was quiet. He sat thinking, stewing on the problem, trying to decide if a young girl could be trusted with such an immense responsibility.