Into the Mist

  "There's always wind on the Lonely Sea. Even if it's very little, there's always something. The sails are empty and the water is still like a mountain lake at dusk. We're not going anywhere until the Lonely Sea lets us proceed."

  Roland let go of the wheel and it did not stir. He took the wooden pin in his hand and locked the wheel in place for good measure, then walked to the very front of the boat and looked at the rising moon.

  "It will be a nice full moon tonight," he said. "That light will keep us good company, don't you think?"

  He didn't look toward me, but I nodded anyway and raced back to the cabin to get more blankets. As I bounded down the steps I didn't see Yipes coming up, and the two of us collided. Poor Yipes held the kettle of soup by the handles on each side and staggered backward down the three steps he had come up, the kettle swinging wildly in his hands. He managed to keep hold of the main part of our dinner and

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  bring the kettle under control at the bottom of the stairs, but he was a nervous wreck as he stood sighing with relief.

  "Here, you take it up. I'm afraid I'll drop it," said Yipes, holding the steaming kettle of soup out to me.

  "You get the blankets," I said. "It might get chilly out tonight if he goes on for very long. I don't want there to be any excuses for him to let up." I took the kettle from Yipes's shaking, outstretched hands. "And bring the lid for this pot. We don't want it to get cold too quickly."

  I carefully made my way up the stairs with the soup. Soon Yipes had retrieved the blankets and the lid for the kettle and was anxiously nudging me along on the deck. He reached up and placed the lid on the kettle with a clang, and a moment later we arrived at the place where our dinner picnic was to occur. It was a magical setting I won't soon forget: steaming soup and tea on the deck of a weather-beaten ship with a thousand tales of its own to tell, the moon casting a pale light on the steam rising from our bowls and cups. The smells of spices and tea hung in the still air, no wind to blow them off, and even Roland couldn't help feeling the thrill of the moment.

  "Well, it does seem like a night for a story," he said, taking a spoonful of soup and slurping it down. "And the soup is better than usual, I must admit."

  "And the tea. What about the tea?" asked Yipes, his thick brown eyebrows and mustache all raised in anticipation of Roland's answer.

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  "I believe it has revived me. I feel I could stay up a while longer."

  Yipes was so pleased to have kept the captain awake and happy that he laughed out loud and gave me a shove on the shoulder that made the teacup in my hand wobble, spilling a drop or two of its contents onto the blanket over my legs.

  "I enjoyed a brief moment of peace with Thomas and Thorn on that morning, not so different from the one we enjoy now," reflected Roland. "It makes me wonder if this might be the last quiet meal the three of us enjoy together before we are swept away on an adventure of our own."

  I wanted desperately to ask Roland what he meant, what would come on the gathering wind, where it might lead us the very next day. But something told me he wouldn't reveal anything even if I asked, and that if I would only listen, the answer would be waiting at the end of his story.

  And so, on that magical moonlit night, I held a hot cup of tea in my hand and did not speak. Instead I listened as Roland Warvold led me out into the wild world of the Great Ravine with Thomas and Thorn at his side.

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  ***

  CHAPTER 14

  A Thousand Stingers

  In the excitement of all that had happened the night before, there hadn't been time to sleep or eat. We'd had a little to drink on the raft while crossing over the Lake of Fire, but that had been all we'd enjoyed. So it should come as no surprise that two young boys, after having eaten what little they had, began to feel sleepy. There were a few words, then Thomas and I both went from sitting to leaning back on our elbows, and then, without warning, we were both lying down, trying to stay awake, but completely out of energy. I don't know if Thorn slept as we did, but I have to imagine that she at least nodded off from time to time.

  After a while Thomas woke, poking my side and yawning.

  "What? Who's there?" were my first words. Then, rubbing my eyes, I asked, "How long have we been asleep?"

  "It's getting on late afternoon. You've both slept the morning and most of the day away," answered Thorn.

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  I could hardly believe we'd been asleep so long, and right away I was aware of how thirsty and hungry I was.

  "Is there anywhere to get water or food in the Great Ravine?" asked Thomas, sounding as though he felt the same way I did. "We haven't had much of either in a while."

  Thorn got up and began to walk toward the entrance to the cave. "Bring the bag with the jug, and follow me as quietly as you can. Lots of noise won't do."

  We had no idea how long our journey to water and food would last when it began, and had we known, I'm sure we would have gone back to sleep and forgotten we'd awakened at all. The long, narrow trail that led along the edge of the cliffs descended at a steep grade. And it went on and on and on. About an hour after we began, a breeze kicked up that soon turned into a howling wind, whipping the dust up into our eyes and our mouths. No one spoke, and when we coughed or tried to clear our throats, Thorn turned back to us with a glare that communicated what she'd already told us: Lots of noise won't do!

  I kept looking around, trying to imagine who or what could possibly hear us through the blinding wind. We were utterly alone on the narrow trail,

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  and I could only imagine that those who lived in the Great Ravine could hear a whole lot better than I could.

  We came near the bottom and Thorn stopped, staring all along the bottom of the ravine, her ears pointing hard and straight to the sky. The wind began to fade and soon it was half the strength it had been on our descent.

  "We can speak now," she purred. "Though still in whispers."

  There were questions upon questions running through my head, but Thomas was faster at opening his mouth than I was. His voice sounded dry and cracked.

  "How will we get out of the ravine once we're at the very bottom, at the deepest part?" he asked.

  "It's the only way, I'm afraid. The only way to get what Mister Clawson wants," Thorn replied.

  "I thought you said he wasn't your master," I interrupted, surprised by my own boldness.

  Thorn glanced at me with a strange expression I didn't understand.

  "If I don't bring back what he wants, it will be the two of you he will punish the most. We'd best not go back at all if we can't do what we're told."

  "That's exactly it!" cried Thomas.

  "Lower your voice!" Thorn purred emphatically. "I know it seems there is no one and nothing to

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  fear. But they're near, and we must be careful not to arouse their attention."

  I was curious what she meant, but there was a point I'd wanted to make all along and I couldn't wait any longer to express it.

  "Thorn, you don't understand -- we don't want to go back," I started, but she didn't let me finish. The wind had died down to almost nothing as we spoke. Her ears were again perked up and listening.

  "Follow me!" she whispered. "And no more talking. This is our chance!"

  Thomas and I looked at each other, wishing we could speak. But Thorn was already ahead of us, moving swiftly down the last of the narrow path. We shrugged at each other and began to move again. There was a sound in the air -- a sound that had a familiar ring to it, but I couldn't place what it was or from where it was coming.

  Reaching the bottom of the path, Thorn broke into a run. There were huge rocks jutting up all around us, and we tried to keep up with her through the twisting maze of towering stone and desert earth. The sound was getting louder and suddenly I could place it. It was buzzing, a steady, distant buzzing.

  "Open up the bag!" growled Thorn. We had come around the side of a gigantic red stone the size of Madame
Vickers's house. The stone extended out at

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  the middle over open air, and Thorn stood beneath it looking at us impatiently.

  "There's no time," she said. "Open the bag and come quickly!"

  I took the bag off my shoulder and undid the straps as fast as I could. We were under the overhanging stone, and the sound of buzzing was growing louder.

  "Most of them are away, but there are still some that remain," said Thorn. Directly above her there was a hole the size of my head, and out of the hole came a bee that was bigger than any bee I'd seen before. It was as long as my smallest finger, as fat as my thumb, and as it flew away I saw a stinger that took my breath away. Thomas was standing next to Thorn, watching the bees emerge from the hole like a dripping faucet. First there was one, then ten, then fifty. But they seemed not to notice us as they dribbled out of the hole in ones and twos and flew off around the giant rock.

  "We've got only a moment before our chance is lost," said Thorn. "Bring me the bag. Thomas, you must put your hand inside and break off whatever you can get your hands on."

  "Will they sting me?" he asked.

  Thorn answered hesitantly, "They might."

  "We don't need it!" I screamed, suddenly aghast at the idea of Thomas putting his hand inside the

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  hole. Thorn shot me a glance that was dreadfully clear in its meaning. Now you've done it. Why couldn't you just keep quiet like I asked?

  Without warning Thomas thrust his hand into the hole. He whimpered, and I could see that he'd been stung once, maybe twice. But he gritted his teeth, cursed a word he'd heard at the Ainsworth orphanage, and pulled his hand out. Within the grasp of his fingers was a large chunk of honeycomb that glowed yellow with dripping honey.

  "Put it in the bag!" Thorn roared. "And run! Run as fast as you can!"

  Thorn darted past me, followed by Thomas, who dropped the honeycomb in the bag as he went by. The sound of buzzing, which had been far off, now seemed to be growing steadily nearer.

  "Roland!" screamed Thorn. "Come on!"

  I was terrified and didn't realize I hadn't even moved. I'd been stung by bees at the House on the Hill and hated the hot pain when it happened. The idea of a thousand impossibly long stingers piercing my skin had frozen my mind and my legs. It took Thorn's voice to bring me back to life. I dashed off in the direction of her voice faster than I'd ever run before.

  Not far off I could see that we were coming to the end of the Great Ravine. It ended like a V, getting narrower and narrower until there was nothing

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  left but a thin line of stone extending into the sky above. I looked back over my shoulder and to my horror saw that the buzzing sound came from a vast swarm of bees. It was a menacing red cloud descending on us -- fdled with thousands upon thousands of gigantic, swarming, angry insects. It was the most horrible kind of nightmare for a boy of ten.

  "This way!" cried Thomas. "Keep running!"

  Thorn circled and darted back toward me. I'd fallen farther behind than I could have imagined as I looked ahead and saw Thomas waving me on from the distance. I expected Thorn to come alongside me and prod me along with her powerful voice, so it came as a surprise when she kept running toward me at full speed. It seemed as though she might keep going and flash past me toward the oncoming swarm, but that was not to be, for I'd fallen too far behind.

  "Down on the ground!" she cried. "Get down on the ground! You're too close!"

  Purely by instinct I did what I was told, running into a dive and bouncing off the earth in a heap. I looked back from where I lay and realized the mighty swarm of giant bees was about to overtake me. There was only time for a fleeting glimpse at Thorn as the maddening sound of bees descended

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  from the sky, but in that brief moment I witnessed the great mountain lion - all six feet and two hundred pounds of gray cat -- leaping into the air. She came down directly on top of me and settled onto the ground -- encircling me in her powerful legs, neck, and head -- until I was utterly smothered in a thick blanket of fur. Her head was near mine. I heard her whispering as the swarm attacked: Don't worry. It will be over soon. Stay very still.

  I heard something else that made me feel terrible, a sound I will never forget. Even with her thick coat, the angry swarm of bees were able to get through and sting, sting, sting. I heard Thorn try to hold back any sound, but it was impossible to hide the fact that a thousand stingers were leaving their mark on this brave new friend of mine. One of the bees found its way through and crawled down into my old black boot, and when I felt the sting I knew a tiny part of what Thorn was enduring on my behalf. A voice in my head began ringing. If only I hadn't stopped; if only I could have kept up. If only. If only. I felt true regret and wished with all my heart that I could turn back the clock a few small minutes and run faster.

  I don't know how long the swarm stayed -- my mind racing as it did. I only remember finding it suddenly quiet, the sound of buzzing bees drifting

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  off. They had made us pay for the honeycomb, and I imagined them all laughing as they returned to their work.

  I didn't move -- I didn't want to face what would come next -- until Thomas was over us yelling my name and rolling Thorn off to the side.

  "Roland! Roland! Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," I murmured, looking off into the sky and seeing the swarm was far, far away, moving up the wall of the canyon. I turned my attention to Thorn. She was lying on her side, completely still, her eyes half open and dreamy.

  "Thorn," I whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't keep up. I've made a terrible mistake."

  She didn't move, but she seemed to smile, licking her nose and coming to life little by little. She raised her head and my heart leaped. Could it really be so? Could she be all right?

  A moment later she was up, wobbling uneasily.

  "That didn't feel very good," she joked, shaking her head from side to side. "Let's try not to let it happen again, understood?"

  Both Thomas and I threw our arms around Thorn, digging our faces into her neck and smiling from ear to ear. We didn't think at all about her sharp claws or long teeth. We were past being afraid of her now, and only wanted Thorn to know how

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  much we needed her. She purred thankfully, which tickled my ear and made me pull back.

  "Everything is a little sore to the touch," she said, gently suggesting we hold off on any further acts of affection until all the stings had time to heal. She walked around on shaking legs and seemed agitated and uncertain.

  "The sooner we get out of the Great Ravine and back to Mister Clawson, the better," she said. "We don't want to find ourselves lost in the wild after dark. Best to start back now."

  "Could we rest a while longer?" asked Thomas. "I saw something back there, something we need to talk about." He gestured toward the very bottom of the Great Ravine, where the two sides of the long cavernous V met and the black line of rock shot up into the air.

  Thorn looked inquisitively at Thomas, then back toward the wide open of the rest of the ravine. She smelled the air, licked at her nose, then squinted her eyes as if trying to see what danger might be heading our way.

  "A very short rest will be all right," she conceded. "But only a few minutes, and let's move back as far as we can, where we can't be seen."

  The three of us wandered back between the scattered rocks of deep brown and red, until we

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  came to the end. It was there that I saw what Thomas had already seen. At the end of the Great Ravine was a hidden passage, narrow and black as night, rising fast and crooked like the long tail of a lightning bolt. And on a large flat stone that lay before the opening was carved the circle and square symbol - the very symbol that could be found on my knees, hidden beneath my dusty pants.

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  ***

  CHAPTER 15

  A Fateful Decision Is Made

  "Someone must want you to go that way," said Thorn
. Thomas and I had sat down, rolled up our pant legs, and revealed the marks above our knees. Thorn looked back and forth between the symbol on the stone before the passage and the matching symbol permanently marked into our skin.

  "How can that be?" she wondered.

  "We've wanted to tell you," said Thomas. "But we weren't sure we could trust you. We thought you might want to put an end to us - that Mister Clawson had sent us out here to die. Before we knew you, we feared you would slash us to bits and leave us out here in the Great Ravine once we got what Mister Clawson wanted."

  There was a pause, a lingering moment of indecision for my brother. He pointed to the image on my knee. "We've been called out onto a journey we don't understand. These markings mean something."

  It's hard to tell what a big cat is thinking by

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  looking her in the face, but I saw something in Thorn then, in her eyes mostly. She was afraid, like a child is afraid. She didn't know what to do.

  "Do you know where you came from?" Thomas softly whispered. "Long ago you came from the forest and the mountains, from somewhere up there." Thomas pointed up the passage hidden in shadows. "That's where we want to go. You could join us -- protect us if you would -- and you'll never have to see Mister Clawson again."

  Thorn's eyes brightened -- but only for a moment. Then her mood turned dim and lonely.

  "We must go back," she told us. "We must bring Mister Clawson what he requires. You're wrong to think we can escape his grasp. He has his ways, and he'll put them to use if we try to escape him."

  "What ways?" I said. "You don't need to worry over leaving us in the Great Ravine to die. We're not staying here. We're going that way, to the Western Kingdom."