The Tenth City

by Patrick Carman

  THE LAND OF ELYON BOOK 3

  The

  Tenth City

  PATRICK CARMAN

  For Reece

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Map of Elyon

  Epigraph

  An Introduction To the Tenth City

  Part 1

  CHAPTER 1: DARKNESS FALLS ON THE LONELY SEA

  CHAPTER 2: A VOICE ON THE WIND

  CHAPTER 3: THE STORM

  CHAPTER 4: THE CLIFFS

  CHAPTER 5: TELL NO ONE WHAT YOU’VE SEEN

  CHAPTER 6: SEPARATED

  CHAPTER 7: WHAT HAPPENED WHILE WE WERE AWAY

  CHAPTER 8: RETURN TO THE TUNNELS

  CHAPTER 9: OUT OF THE DARKNESS

  CHAPTER 10: THE LIBRARY

  CHAPTER 11: THE DANGLING CHAIN

  CHAPTER 12: ESCAPE FROM THE TUNNELS

  Part 2

  CHAPTER 13: THE LESSON IN THE LEAF

  CHAPTER 14: FENWICK FOREST

  CHAPTER 15: THE GROVE

  CHAPTER 16: CAPTURED

  CHAPTER 17: THROUGH THE SLY FIELD

  CHAPTER 18: THE PATHWAY

  CHAPTER 19: NEARING THE END

  CHAPTER 20: THE TENTH CITY

  CHAPTER 21: TOWARD HOME

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

  S. A. KIERKEGAARD

  AN INTRODUCTION

  TO THE TENTH CITY

  There are a few notes I would like to offer before getting on with what remains of this story. We’ve visited many places and met many characters together, and I would hate for readers to find themselves confused by the events to come. Here then are a few reminders to help you keep your wits about you as we make our way to the Tenth City.

  The Tenth City begins only hours after Beyond the Valley of Thorns comes to a close, with Alexa and most of her friends escaping the Dark Tower. I say most because Yipes has been taken by the evil Victor Grindall and his ogres to Bridewell, the last remaining walled city in The Land of Elyon, where he is being held captive with little hope of rescue.

  Meanwhile, Alexa is adrift on the Lonely Sea in the Warwick Beacon, a boat captained by one Roland Warvold, the brother of Thomas Warvold. Along with Alexa, Roland, and Thomas are Odessa the wolf, Murphy the squirrel, Squire the hawk, Thomas’s wife, Catherine Warvold (also known as Renny), Armon the giant, and Balmoral, the leader of the rebellion in Castalia, along for the ride at Thomas Warvold’s request.

  And what of Alexa’s father, Pervis Kotcher, Thomas Warvold’s son Nicolas, and the others? We shall see them again before this tale is told.

  As our story begins once more, night has fallen on the open sea, and our dear Alexa Daley is about to awaken to a world she’s never seen before, a world of water and cliffs.

  Come with me now as we travel the Lonely Sea together in search of the Tenth City.

  — Patrick Carman

  Walla Walla, April 2005

  PART 1

  CHAPTER 1

  DARKNESS FALLS ON

  THE LONELY SEA

  “We’ve made good speed today. I can’t remember when I’ve covered so many miles so quickly.”

  It was a voice in the darkness.

  “It would appear that the winds on the Lonely Sea are helping us along. The question is: Who controls these winds, and where are they taking us?”

  I was waking from a long slumber on the deck of the Warwick Beacon when I heard this voice, and it seemed as though I’d awakened into a world that contained no light. Night had set on the Lonely Sea; not one glimmer from a single star could overcome the thick mist above and around us.

  “Do you think she has anything to do with the wind at our back?”

  “My guess is she has everything to do with it. She and the last stone are tied to each other in a way I don’t understand. She’s the one we must protect … even at the expense of all the others.”

  The voices were coming from the front of the ship, about twenty feet away. Listening to their words drift out into the nighttime made me feel as though I were spying on the secret rooms of Renny Lodge, back in Bridewell. I used to love the way the words would drift up the stairs in the lodge, echoing as I tried to make out their meaning.

  “We’ll be in Lathbury by morning light. That’s very fast indeed.”

  Both Warvold and his brother, Roland, were smoking pipes. I could see the glow from the embers bright near their faces, the distinct outline of their features against the black of the night. Catherine (who I used to call Renny) was sleeping in the cabin below as Odessa and Balmoral watched over her. Armon the giant and Murphy were somewhere on the deck with me, but I couldn’t see where. Lying by myself, I was frightened and wished I could see something more than the shadows of the two men with their pipes. I quietly opened the leather pouch around my neck and removed the last Jocasta. The orange glow was so brilliant it seemed to set the air on fire. I’d never known it to be so bright, so fiery in its intensity, piercing every corner of the darkness. I shielded my eyes and looked around as Armon sat upright, staring into the air as the mist above us was lit by the power of the Jocasta.

  “Put it back!” yelled Warvold. “Put it back as quickly as you can!”

  I fumbled with the pouch around my neck and dropped the glowing Jocasta inside, then drew up the string. The light vanished as quickly as it had come. Night crept back over the deck of the ship as Warvold and Roland strode quickly over to me and knelt down at my side.

  “You must never do that again, Alexa,” Warvold warned. “Not at night when we’re on the Lonely Sea.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “With the covering of clouds this place is unnaturally dark at night. The light of the Jocasta can be seen silhouetted from above the mist in The Land of Elyon.”

  He looked up then, and even though I could barely make out his face in the light of the glowing embers in his pipe, I could tell he was worried.

  “You can be sure there are those who are looking for such a light, not the least of which are the bats — the black swarm — and maybe Victor Grindall himself.”

  Roland struck a match and lit a small lamp that hung by a ragged old rope at the side of the deck.

  “A little light is fine,” Roland said. “But that thing you’ve got there — I’ve never seen anything like it. If anyone was watching from above, they’d surely have seen the mist aglow in orange.”

  “Quiet,” whispered Warvold.

  He put his hand on his pipe and puffed slowly. At first all I could hear was the creaking sound of the old ship on the sea and the wind billowing steadily through the sails. There was something else, though — something far away but coming closer. A strange sound.

  “Put out the light,” Warvold said to Roland, “and pocket your pipe.”

  There is a special darkness when you blow out the one lamp in the night, when your eyes still expect light but there is none to be had. It is a total darkness that heightens all the other senses, and on this night I could suddenly hear clearly what Warvold heard.

  The sound of a thousand bats shrieking on the wind, their leathery wings beating a mangled drumroll as they came closer.

  “Armon!” I screamed. “Where are you? Get belowdecks!” I knew he was the one the bats were after.

  I could hear the sound of feet scuffling on the deck, but I couldn’t see what was happening around me.

  “Hold my hand, Alexa.” It was Warvold, whispering near my face. I could smell the sweet tobacco in his beard. We listened to the wind as the sound of the black swarm came nearer still. Warvold guided me along the deck until a door was flung open from the floor and faint light escaped into the night.

  “Down you go,” said Warvold
, holding the door upright while he beckoned me inside. I watched as Murphy scampered between Roland’s legs and down the stairs.

  “Armon first,” I said. “We can’t risk having him found.”

  “He won’t fit, Alexa,” said Warvold. “He’s too big. Now get inside — there’s no time to waste.”

  He prodded me down into the belly of the ship until we were safely below. The door slid down and was locked behind me not a moment too soon.

  The black swarm was upon the ship.

  The bats were attacking the deck, banging their heads and flapping their wings, clawing everywhere with their tiny black talons. It was a tremendous, horrible noise, and all I could think of was Armon out on the deck, hiding in a corner, trying not to be found. I knew he would put up a valiant fight, but in the end the bats would overtake him and that would be the end of the race of Seraphs, the last of the giants. He would be turned into an ogre, and only ogres would remain.

  The clatter on the deck decreased and then stopped altogether, but the bats could still be heard swarming around the ship. Then there was a new sound, a sound of ripping and tearing. Murphy darted across the dimly lit room and landed in my lap, shaking uncontrollably. Balmoral and Odessa instinctively moved to protect Catherine, who had awakened, disoriented and frail.

  “They’re attacking the sails,” said Roland. “It’s a good thing the big ones are down. We haven’t had need of them with this wind at our back.”

  The shredding continued for a time, and then the swarm circled the boat again before flying off, the sound of their wings a faint whisper before Warvold spoke.

  “It is to our advantage that bats have but a pea for a brain,” he said. “They think only of finding Armon, nothing else. Either they’ve discovered him and have done their terrible work, or they’ve gone looking elsewhere.” Then Warvold fell silent, and we all listened to the creaking of the old ship, the sound of the torn sails flapping in the wind, the last of the bats in the distance.

  Murphy jumped from my arms and ran to the top of the steps, scratching on the door in the ceiling to get out. Just then we all heard the same thing, and it stirred a mix of emotions. What we heard was the sound of giant footsteps pounding the deck, walking toward the door. Would it still be Armon, or had the bats found him and transformed him into a beast that would rip the door off its hinges at any moment?

  Murphy ran back down the stairs and leaped into my arms. There was a knock at the door in the ceiling, and I yelped at the sound of it.

  “Shall I unlock it?” asked Roland.

  “I think that would be best,” said Warvold. “If he’s been turned against us, he’ll only knock it in. We don’t have much hope if we’ve got an ogre loose on the ship.”

  Roland walked up the stairs and pulled away the bolt, then ran back down and stood next to Warvold. Odessa growled, ready to defend us.

  The door creaked open, and all we could see was darkness. But one thing was certain — whatever was standing there in the night was dripping something into the room, and my heart skipped with the thought of blood pouring from Armon’s broken body.

  CHAPTER 2

  A VOICE ON

  THE WIND

  The silhouette that looked down at us through the doorway was dark against the night sky. It was huge and unmoving, quiet but for the sound of water falling on the stairs leading down into the cabin of the Warwick Beacon.

  “They’ve gone,” said Armon. “You can stop your worrying.”

  He was on his knees, sticking his giant head into the opening so we could see him. His hair was wet, dripping salty water on the stairs, but he was smiling and he was still the giant we all remembered.

  I ran up the stairs and put my arms around his big, damp neck. He lifted me up through the doorway as he stood, and I was somewhere high in the night air feeling happy and free, the wind flapping Armon’s long wet hair against my face.

  “You jumped off the ship?” I said.

  “I wasn’t going to fit into that doorway,” he answered. “So I crept overboard in the darkness and slid into the water, then swam out to sea.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” I said.

  Concerned the bats might return suddenly, I rejoined the others below. Armon lay down on the deck and poked his head down into the space. Every few seconds he disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness outside, looking and listening for flying intruders. His only companion on the deck was Squire. She’d flown off when the black swarm arrived, but she was back now, flapping here and there on the edges of the ship.

  There was a lamp trimmed low sitting between us on the floor. The hour was late, maybe midnight, but everyone was wide awake and listening. The creaking of the old boat on the waves made a constant chatter, but I didn’t mind. It was soothing in its own way.

  “I’ll have to get to those sails sooner than later,” said Roland. “We might end up hitting the cliffs if we drift too close in the night.”

  “The bats are gone,” said Armon. “If they come again I can go back into the water and you can get below.”

  That was assurance enough for Roland. He took Balmoral, Armon, and a lamp with him to mend the sails. The rest of us sat quietly for a moment listening to them at their work, and in the soft light of the cabin I heard a familiar voice stirring in the air. What it said frightened me, and I sat in the cabin wondering if I should share it with the others.

  “Warvold?” I said. He only nodded and looked at me while Odessa and Catherine sat silent.

  “Did you know that the last Jocasta makes it so you can hear Elyon’s voice?” I looked down at Murphy sitting in my lap, then continued. “Not always, but every now and then. It’s the strangest sound, like a whisper on the wind.”

  “I know of the legend, and I’ve wondered if it were true,” Warvold said. After some hesitation he added, “You must listen carefully for that voice.”

  I waited a moment more, afraid to say what I thought I’d heard.

  “Do you think everything I hear in that voice on the wind is from Elyon, or could it be that Abaddon has found a way to speak to me as well?”

  Catherine was still very weak, but she took my hand then and held it, though she said nothing.

  “If it’s as the legend said it would be, the voice is that of Elyon alone,” Warvold answered. He was sitting next to Catherine, and he brushed a bit of hair away from her face. His mind seemed lost in thought.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, something you’ve heard?” he asked me.

  I looked at Catherine, so weak and tired, and I wished she would lie down and go back to sleep.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard something just now that I’m afraid to tell.”

  Before I could explain further, Roland came barreling down the stairs with Balmoral close behind.

  “I’ve taken down the torn sails and raised the larger one,” Roland said. “I know these waters well and can guide us in the darkness. We should be approaching Lathbury just as the sun comes up.”

  “That’s good, Roland — but wait a moment,” Warvold replied. “Alexa, have you got something to say to us?”

  “I do,” I answered; then I squeezed Catherine’s hand a little tighter and told them what I’d heard on the wind:

  “The voice I heard said we couldn’t all stay in Lathbury.”

  “Why not?” Odessa asked. It was the first thing she’d said in quite a while. Because of the Jocasta, I was the only human who could understand her.

  “We can leave Catherine there,” I said, “but the rest of us must go on.”

  Warvold contemplated this bit of news as he relit his pipe, the sight of which seemed to interest Roland and Balmoral. They both sat down on the steps leading down into the cabin and pulled out their own pipes, preparing them as Warvold sat thinking.

  I knew from talking with Warvold that there would be a rope waiting for us at Lathbury, running down the length of the cliffs and almost into the water. It had hung there a long time, but Warvold
wouldn’t tell us who had put it there. As far as we knew, this was our only escape from the Lonely Sea — at least according to Warvold.

  “There’s more,” I said.

  “I thought as much,” said Warvold. He fiddled with his pipe and blew smoke over his head.

  Murphy sat nearby, his tail twitching wildly. He spoke quickly and with purpose.

  “Does the voice on the wind say anything about finding nuts or treats hidden away on this old boat?”

  I smiled and patted him once on the head before continuing.

  “We only have five days to bring Grindall the stone or we’ll never see Yipes alive again. We must rescue Yipes, and I thought we would leave Catherine in Lathbury and go directly to Bridewell to find him. But it seems that right now we are meant to go somewhere else. There’s something Elyon wants us to see, something beyond Turlock, at the point of land farthest away from the Dark Tower.”

  Roland stopped puffing at his pipe and sat dumbstruck by the news. For an instant he seemed unsure what to say. He was either terribly excited or dreadfully scared — I couldn’t tell which by the look on his face.

  “Alexa, are you sure about what you heard? Could you have heard it wrong?” he asked me.

  I told him I was sure. I knew what I’d heard. It was unmistakable.

  “There’s something you should know then,” he said. He put his pipe back into the corner of his mouth and puffed three quick times. “I have sailed the Lonely Sea for many years, exploring faraway places with secrets and mysteries hard to imagine. But there is one place I have never gone. The place you speak of, beyond Turlock on the far side of The Land of Elyon, is utterly impassable with this ship.”

  He looked down into the room from the step where he sat and thought a moment before speaking again.

  “Fierce winds never die there — they just push everything into the cliffs. No sooner would we round the corner of Turlock and the Warwick Beacon would be smashed to bits against the rocks.”