Into The Mist (Land of Elyon) (8 page)

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"This is Thorn," said Mister Clawson. "I doubt you've ever seen a mountain lion before, but if you had, you'd know that Thorn is just such a creature. Under normal circumstances a mountain lion would tear the both of you apart."

Thorn stood up and walked toward us and my heart leaped into my throat. I should have cried out as she came near and purred into the air a few inches in front of my face, but I only managed a raspy whine as I tried aimlessly to reach for the door behind me with one hand.

"It's Thorn who gave me my name," Mister Clawson continued. Pulling up a sleeve that covered one of his hairy arms, he came over to us. There were deep scars that looked like claw marks all up and down his forearm. "Thorn gave me these the first time we met, but soon enough she and I worked things out to my liking."

"Are you her friend or her master?" asked Thomas.

The question amused Mister Clawson, and he laughed out loud. Thorn lifted a paw and began licking between her long, sharp claws.

"What do you think, Thorn? Am I your master?" Mister Clawson asked, rolling the sleeve back down and covering the scars on his arm.

Living all our lives either in the city of Ainsworth

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or within the confines of the House on the Hill, Thomas and I had no practical knowledge of animals such as Thorn. We'd heard rumors of large creatures like bears and wolves, but the closest thing we'd ever seen were the stray cats that roamed the streets of Ainsworth and picked through the trash at Madame Vickers's. Maybe that was why - at the time -- it didn't surprise either of us as much as one might suppose when Thorn purred deeply and we understood what her growling was meant to say. She did not speak as humans do; she spoke in her own language, with the slippery sounds of mountain lions and other big cats. It was this language we heard and understood.

"No human is my master."

She purred the words, dark and menacing in their tone, as though she were a being of few statements and this was one she'd run through her feline mind over and over again in the quiet of her thoughts. No human is my master.

"She belongs to me," said Mister Clawson, making it unclear whether he, too, understood what Thorn had said. "She does as I say, when I say."

"Thorn?" said my brother. Why was he so bold with a cat so big? He moved a hair closer to the mountain lion, and I almost leaped between them, afraid Thomas would get too close in his curiosity.

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I feared a swift slash of a claw across his face, but Thorn remained still, waiting for Thomas to continue.

"Do you know the way to the Western Kingdom?"

When my brother put his mind to something, it was as though everything around him went blurry and only one thing stayed in focus until it was found or achieved. And so it was with his intent on reaching the Western Kingdom.

"I know the way," purred Thorn. The two stared forcefully at each other, and there seemed to be something unsaid passing between them.

Mister Clawson seemed perplexed. He began running the broad fingers of one hand through his coarse beard, watching the boy and the mountain lion. He seemed to guess that something was passing between the two, and it suddenly enraged him.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he finally yelled, but neither the big cat nor my brother seemed to notice. "I said stop it this instant!" He advanced on Thorn and was about to push Thomas aside when the mountain lion lashed in his direction, growling fiercely. Mister Clawson jumped back with a look of surprise on his face. He seemed for the first time to have lost command of the circumstances, though it lasted only a moment.

"How dare you show aggression toward me!"

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Mister Clawson was in a rage, and Thorn was suddenly transformed into a creature who clearly felt the sting of her master's voice.

"Get under the table!" yelled Mister Clawson. Thorn moved off, the candlelight dancing slick on her gray coat, and she lay down in the shadows.

"Both of you, up on your feet! Come with me," shouted Mister Clawson. His voice had a sharpness to it, every word a knife. He went past the table, taking a candle in his hand as he went, and led us down a darkened path with a high stone archway for a ceiling. Mold covered the walls and cold, clammy water dripped on our heads. The farther we went, the more the passageway was alive with crawling bugs and the thick smell of deep earth. Mister Clawson had to duck lower and lower as we went until he crouched so near to the ground his eyes were level with ours. After a time he stopped, turning to us with the yellow candlelight glowing before his face. A drop of water landed on his nose, and he wiped it down into his beard. Everything about his face glistened, and he appeared to me as something of a madman, crouched in the corner like a wild animal about to pounce on us.

"There is a way known only to a few," he began. His voice had gone from a raging torrent to a low, rumbling presence, as though he were sharing sacred information. "A way that begins when you

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go into the mist and continues here." Mister Clawson moved to one side and held out the candle. There was only a little light, but it was enough to reveal a small iron door with a thick handle in the very middle. Beneath the handle, etched deep into the iron, was the symbol of square and circle - the very one from Mingleton's saddlebag and our knees.

I glanced at Thomas and he glanced at me, both our eyes bulging with surprise. I had no memory of this place, and yet how could it be that the sign on this hidden door beneath Gaul's Ward could also appear on our knees?

Mister Clawson looked at the two of us again, covering the door with his body.

"It is here that you will go -- with Thorn accompanying you. You must come back with the thing I tell you to bring. Do you understand?"

I didn't understand at all, but it was an oddly invigorating idea to venture through a door that might hold the answers to questions I'd asked all my life.

Mister Clawson's face grew dark and threatening. "There is no other way out of Gaul's Ward for you now. This is your dark path to walk, and you will bring me what I require."

It was clear to us then that if we did not succeed

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at whatever Mister Clawson had planned, he would do away with us.

As if to drive the point home, a drop of water hit the candle. The flame fizzled out, and in the darkness Mister Clawson told us where we were to go and what we were to bring back.

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***

CHAPTER 10

Behind the Iron Door

"Thorn will guide the way. She knows the way out and the way back in." The voice of Mister Clawson was almost a whisper, as if he were speaking of things he wanted to keep a secret even as he let them drift out of his mouth. "It won't take you more than two days to make the trip." He pulled a satchel out from behind him in the darkness and held it out to me. "You keep the food and the water."

I took the satchel out of his hand, trying to guess what was inside by its weight and shape. It wasn't very heavy, so I knew right away there wouldn't be very much water inside.

"Now listen!" said Mister Clawson. "Thorn will take you to the place, just as I told you. You need only bring back as much as that bag will hold. Eat the food on the way there, or put it in your pockets if you have to. Just fill the bag as much as you can before you return."

"What are we filling it with?" asked Thomas with an air of distrust.

"Whatever Thorn tells you to fill it with, just as

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I told you before! Now go on! The sun will be up soon, and it will be hot where you're going."

"But won't we be seen by someone in Ainsworth?" asked Thomas. "They'll send us back to Madame Vickers's House on the Hill."

Mister Clawson's loathsome cackle filled the air. "Where you're going, no person will see. That's one thing you can be sure of."

Thorn snarled, and this time went through the iron door. I didn't understand the sounds she made as I had before. I began to wonder if I'd only imagined understanding them. Maybe we were under some sort of spell cast by Mister Clawson. Maybe he had made it seem as though Thorn were speaking to us in order to trick us.

"Go!" cried Mister Clawson. "You don't want to keep that cat waiting any longer than you have to." He lit a new candle and held out the single flame for one of us to take. Thomas took it clumsily, yelping as wax dripped down on his hand.

"Get on with it!" bellowed Mister Clawson, pushing the both of us toward Thorn and the doorway before retreating and blocking our other possible exit. We were trapped between a very large, frightening mountain lion and an even larger, angry man. Things were not going as well as we'd hoped they might upon leaving the care of Madame Vickers.

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"That's a nice kitty." I began, followed a moment later by Thomas in his most soothing voice, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty...."

The light from the candle didn't reach very far -- only enough to see a little of what was before us.

"Quickly now," Thorn growled. "We have a long way to go, and not much time to get there."

Thomas held the light out as far as he could, and we both saw the gleaming cat's eyes attached to the head from which the voice had come.

"How far is it?" asked Thomas, as if the idea of a mountain lion we could understand was a small detail we could ignore altogether. Thorn didn't answer, but turned away instead and faced toward the iron door. Thomas and I whispered quietly to each other.

"Did you hear what she said?"

"Yes, I think I did."

"Maybe we can trust her. She doesn't seem to want to eat us."

"I wish we had something to defend ourselves with."

"I wish we could get something to eat out of that bag."

"I wish Mister Clawson were a chicken. Thorn would probably eat a chicken."

This was something we had done whenever we found ourselves unbearably bored picking through

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the trash on the hill. Back and forth we would go, telling what we wished, usually trying to make the other laugh. It was a good way to pass the time or keep one's mind off of the idea that we'd stumbled into so much trouble so quickly.

"I wish Finch and Thorn were locked in a room together. I think Finch would pee his pants."

"I wish Mister Clawson was a baker, and he baked us a big fat cake, and he put it in the bag with a giant jug of milk."

"I wish the two of you would stop talking so much and open the iron door so we can be on our way!" Thorn's growl filled the small space. She sat in front of the door, off to one side, her silvery fur shining like glass in the soft light.

"You do it," said Thomas. "I've got the candle to hold."

I reached a shaking hand past Thorn's face toward the latch, wondering if my arm was about to be clawed to pieces. But Thorn just sniffed the air, looking curiously at my trembling hand upon the handle.

"I wish there was a pile of candy behind this door, and a nice bed to sleep on, and a warm bath to wash up in," I said.

I turned the handle and it made a sound of old stone on old metal.

"One of your wishes is about to come true," said

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Thorn. Really? I thought. Could there really be a soft bed or a stash of candy or a warm bath waiting on the other side? I pulled on the iron door and it slowly opened with a dark howl. I half expected a torrent of bats to escape into the passageway, but instead I felt only the glow of warm air.

"Don't look down," growled Thorn.

A moment later she was gone, through the door and down into the soft yellow glow of the world beyond the iron door. Thomas and I wraited, looking through the small opening the door had covered, terrified at what we might find as we neared the opening. Thomas blew out the candle, but soft yellow light remained, glowing like a vast liquid sky from somewhere beyond the iron door.

"Hurry back!" came an echoing voice from the other end of the passage. It was Mister Clawson, far away now, his voice small but mean. "And close that door behind you!"

I crept up to the very edge of the door and looked down. Thorn had told me not to do it, and the moment I did, I wished I'd heeded her warning. There was a ladder leading down much farther than I'd imagined it was possible to go into the belly of the world. At the very bottom was a faint, glowing sea of water that seemed to go on forever.

Thorn was perched on a small platform of rocks jutting out from the stone face that held the ladder.

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"You don't want to fall, so hold the ladder tightly as you go."

With frightening quickness, Thorn jumped across the ladder, landing on another formation of rocks and skidding to a stop. The formations were scattered all the way down the side of the wall, crisscrossing the ladder as they went.

I turned toward Thomas and put my legs out into the opening of the door, stepping down onto the first few rungs.

"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down," I repeated to myself. I looked up and saw Thomas's head poking out over the edge. "Try not to kick dirt in my face."

"I wish Mister Clawson was a chicken," he repeated, looking back once more in the direction of our captor.

Before long we were in something of a pattern, Thomas and I making wishes as we went, while Thorn bounded back and forth beneath us on our way to the very bottom. The air was warm and humid, like a hot summer day after a morning of rain, and soon I was thinking about how much work it would be to go back up the ladder. I don't know how much time passed, but there came a moment when I no longer heard Thorn bounding from one perch to another and I glanced down for the first time since our journey began. She was