Into The Mist (Land of Elyon) (11 page)

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This went on for some time without a word between us, until the floor leveled off and Thorn glanced back at us.

"We come now to the last turn," she said. "The world of men is behind you now. Only the wild remains."

She went on, around the last tight turn where we couldn't see her, and I said to Thomas, "Who'd have thought it would come to this so swiftly?"

I expected to find Thomas in a state of fear, unwilling to go around the last turn -- but I should have known better. Thomas could not have hoped for a better outcome than the one we'd stumbled into. We'd only been free a day, and already we'd found our way into more adventure than I thought could be found in a lifetime of searching.

"Let's round the corner together," said Thomas. His sharp green eyes flashed with excitement, and the two of us took the last few steps out of the cave.

We'd spent a night running from Finch and the dogs, only to be captured by Mister Clawson and pulled into his world of dark magic. It had been a long and shadowy journey with very little light along the way. When we stepped out into the path of the blinding sun, it made us cover our eyes. If you've ever woken from a nap in the middle of the day with the sun over your head, then you know

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the feeling -- the feeling when darkness turns to light all at once.

"Stay right where you are," said Thorn. "And don't make a sound."

I struggled to open my eyes, looking first at the jagged rocks and dust beneath my feet, then slowly lifting my gaze upward. There were rocks of deep red and brown shooting up across a vast and dangerous-looking valley below. We were perched well above the ground, and yet we were much closer to the bottom of the walls of jagged rocks than we were to the tops. It felt like we'd come out of a pinhole in an enormous wall of stone that rose above and beneath us. To the left, a lifeless valley widened and grew shallower, until somewhere off in the distance it leveled off with cliffs before the sea. To the right it grew narrower and deeper, until I could only wonder at what might live in such a place.

"I gather we're not going that way," said Thomas, pointing toward the wide, rising end of the valley. "That would be the way back to Ainsworth, if I have my bearings right."

Thorn nodded her great head and whispered back, "We must go deeper into the wild to find what Mister Clawson seeks. I know the way. But first we'll rest a while, so you can eat and drink what's in your pack."

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She walked back into the cave, and when she did, I saw that she'd been hiding something from us. She'd been standing before a stunningly narrow and steep path with a wall on one side and open air on the other.

We were in the Great Ravine, the sun casting spiked shadows on the stone walls that surrounded us, a treacherous path along which to make our way.

We had come into a place where no man or woman was welcome - a place of deep magic both light and dark -- at a time when there were no walls or towns to speak of between us and the Western Kingdom.

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PART 2

INTO THE WILD

In the forest wanders the bear, fierce and menacing, and yet innocent.

- Fyodor Dostoyevsky,

The Brothers Karamazov, 1880

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CHAPTER 13

A MAGICAL NIGHT

It had been a breathless day of listening to Roland tell his tale. The sun was hanging heavy on the water as he came to the place in his story in which he, Thomas, and Thorn returned to the cave and ate what little food they had. I stood and stretched my back, wondering whether or not we'd come to the end of what Roland would tell us that day. There was a glimmer in his eye that told me we might have a night of legend yet to come, a night in which Yipes and I would hear about the Great Ravine, Fenwick Forest, Mount Norwood -- all of them before the time of the walls. What a strange thought it was to imagine all these places without Bridewell tucked in between them, without my home of Lathbury, without the other towns of Lunenburg and Turlock. I was dying to hear what it was like before Thomas Warvold ventured into the wild and built the walls and the towns of Bridewell Common.

"I'll make up a pot of soup!" cried Yipes. "That's just what we need to keep things adrift. It will be the finest soup the crew of this vessel has ever enjoyed, and I'll bring bread and hot tea. We can stay all night at the wheel if we like, can't we? Tomorrow is just another day with the wide and Lonely Sea before us. We can sleep late if we want to!"

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It was possible Yipes wanted to hear the rest of the story even more than I did. To imagine Mount Norwood before he'd been there and built his little house on the stream was something I was sure he could hardly wait to hear more about.

"And youl" He pointed at me with his tiny index finger. "You will help me. I'm not taking any chances that there might be talk of something important while I'm busy over there." He pointed off toward the cabin, then back at me. "You must come with me, give him a bit of rest. He needs a chance to catch his breath before he gets on with the tale."

"Bring the soup," said Roland. "We'll have to see how well you cook tonight before I decide what to do with my evening." He yawned loudly, raising his hands up off the wheel and over his head. "I am feeling a tad sleepy, to tell the truth."

Yipes was shaking all over, his eyes darting back and forth and his fingers fumbling in search of something to do. He was in a high state of alarm.

"The tea will be just the thing!" he cried. "We have some of the black tea -- not that awful sleepy kind -- and I'm sure it will perk you right up!" Yipes grabbed me by the hand and began to haul me across the deck. "Not to worry!" he carried on as we made our way to the cabin.

An hour later, the sun and wind were both gone and an unnatural calm enveloped the deck of the Warwick Beacon. It was rare for the ship to sit so very still and quiet with the

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sails still up. Yipes was bringing the kettle of soup and would be a moment. I had already brought the bowls, cups, and bread and had set them on an old brown blanket that I'd thrown over the deck at the base of the wheel. I had the pot of tea with me, and I put it on the blanket. I was about to go back for the blankets from our hammocks to warm us as the night grew colder.

"We have stopped," whispered Roland. He let go of the wheel. "I wonder what force has brought us to this place to wait?"

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"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