The Tenth City

by Patrick Carman

  “What is that you have there around your neck?” he asked me.

  I clutched the stone in the small leather pouch before speaking.

  “It’s the last Jocasta,” I answered.

  Ander’s eyes widened and he moved his head down near mine once more.

  “I knew you had a Jocasta but not … the last. Let me have a look at it.”

  I hesitated, then undid the leather pouch and removed the stone, holding it out in front of me. It lit up the grove with orange and gold, and for a moment the place seemed to come alive again.

  Ander sighed and looked all around him, remembering what it had once been like.

  “I have a secret to tell you, Alexa. One that might help you find what you’re looking for.”

  I put the Jocasta back inside the pouch and waited for Ander to tell me the secret.

  “There are things a few of us animals know that elude human understanding. We’re born with certain … knowledge — knowledge that is only useful at a time such as this.” He paused a moment and I listened as a hush came over the grove and all the animals seemed to lean in around us.

  “The stone will show you the way,” he said. “When you reach the mist of the Sly Field, hold the stone out in front of you. Where others have failed in the Sly Field, you will succeed. Follow where it leads you, and you may yet find the Tenth City.”

  We both smiled.

  “If I find it, if I can defeat Abaddon, I’ll do everything I can to restore this place,” I said.

  “I know you will, Alexa.”

  Murphy came out of the grove and landed on my knee, looking at me with concern.

  “Someone is coming, Alexa. The animals are stirring.”

  I listened along with Ander and heard the faint sound of something approaching from the woods. A moment later, Odessa came into the clearing. I was happy to see her.

  “Odessa!” I said.

  Ander sniffed at the air, his big head bouncing back and forth as he stretched his nose out from side to side. As I watched Odessa slowly approach us, I glanced around the grove and noticed something peculiar. All the animals had gone away, leaving bare stones strewn with dirt and leaves. Only Ander remained.

  “There is something foul in the air,” said Ander. I smelled it as well, the terrible odor of rotting flesh.

  Odessa crept forward a few more steps, and then I heard the sound of beings crashing through the trees from every direction, moving fast. I could see their heads bobbing through the trees, their swollen shoulders knocking down limbs as they came, the black cloaks, and the hideous faces.

  The ogres were upon us, closing in from all sides.

  “Odessa, how could you?” said Ander. He was astounded at the sight of these creatures, and we both knew without hesitation that Odessa had led them to this sacred place, although my understanding might have been deeper than his. I looked back at my companions and saw that they, too, were dumbstruck by this turn of events.

  There was nothing we could do as Grindall came into the clearing with a dreadful grin on his face, his menacing laugh echoing through the grove and chilling the air around us.

  CHAPTER 16

  CAPTURED

  The ogres stood all around the grove, their breathing labored and soggy. I stayed where I was, afraid that even the slightest movement might cause one of the ogres to turn angry. They were wild, unpredictable creatures. Everything about them made me nervous and afraid. Only Grindall could control them, his voice like a hypnotic spell from which the ogres could not escape.

  Ander backed away from me, moving toward one of the ogres, then turned and ran out of the grove. The ogres did not move. They were focused entirely on keeping me and my companions trapped.

  Armon drew his sword, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the trees. He looked fierce enough to take on all of the ten ogres circling the grove, but a few seconds after the sword was drawn everything changed. One of the ogres took hold of Warvold, another Yipes, and a third had his hand on my back, lifting me in the air before I could turn and see him coming.

  “Armon the giant.” It was Grindall, his slippery voice bringing the ogres to a quick silence. “After all our searching we come upon you unprotected in this rotted forest. How convenient for me.”

  He looked around the open space and saw that he had three of his foes trapped, with seven more ogres surrounding Armon. The ogre who’d picked me up knelt down and set me in front of him, but his huge hand remained tightly gripped around my waist. I felt the material on my tunic turning slimy, cold, and slick against my skin. His hand was like a thick, wet mop tied tightly around my waist.

  “It appears as though I have gained the upper hand,” Grindall gloated. “All of my most hated enemies together in one place, taken unaware by our approach. I would have hoped for a little more of a challenge.”

  I could tell that Armon was having a difficult time putting down the sword. He wanted desperately to protect his friends, and yet he knew that with one quick squeeze of the ogres’ hands three of us would be finished.

  “Armon,” I said, “put down the sword. There’s nothing you can do now. There’s nothing any of us can do.”

  He hesitated, looking all around him, then heaved a great sigh and tossed the sword into the middle of the grove at Grindall’s feet. Grindall threw back his head and laughed wickedly. He bent down and tried to pick up the weapon, but it was so big he could barely get it off the ground. Irritated, he called to one of the ogres, “Pick this up, you fool! Get it out of my way.”

  An ogre took the sword and flung it into the woods. It clanged to a stop beneath a moss-covered tree stump.

  “Now then, where were we?” Grindall was enjoying himself far too much. “Oh, yes, I remember — I was about to have Warvold brought to me so that I might have a word with him.”

  The ogre that had hold of Warvold quickly stepped toward Grindall. With strong arms he pushed Warvold to his knees and stood breathing heavily a few feet away.

  “Get back, you beast!” said Grindall. “I can hardly stand the smell of you so close.”

  The ogre backed up farther and took his guard with the others encircling Armon.

  “Bring me the others,” Grindall commanded. “I want them all at my feet while I give them as much regrettable news as I can think of.”

  The wet hand tightened around my waist and hoisted me into the air. I was dropped on my knees next to Warvold as Yipes was marched over and pushed to the ground with the two of us. I saw Murphy sitting on a stump to my left, free for the moment, and I hoped he wouldn’t try anything foolish and get himself in trouble like the rest of us.

  “Don’t worry, Alexa.” It was Warvold, whispering to me.

  “Oh, on the contrary, do worry, Alexa!” roared Grindall. “You’ve failed … as I knew you would. I have captured everyone with the power to stop me — Warvold and Yipes — and the two most precious of all — Alexa Daley and Armon the giant. In all the far reaches of the land, you four are the greatest enemies of Abaddon. How pleased he must be with me.”

  He stifled a laugh and looked at Armon, surrounded by ogres. Then he returned his gaze to the four of us at his feet. Odessa strode up next to him and sat down. Grindall ran his long fingers over her coat.

  “Wolves. They simply cannot be trusted,” he said. “Unless of course you’re me. Then they can be very useful.”

  Grindall stared at Warvold with a peculiar smile on his face.

  “Look what’s become of your beloved Land of Elyon. Thistles and thorns covering a dead forest. It would seem the powers that rule are not the ones you claim.”

  “Get on with it, Victor. What do you aim to do with us? Where will you take us?” asked Warvold.

  “More to the point, where will you take me?” answered Grindall. He looked at the leather bag hanging around my neck.

  “It will only help us find what you seek if you leave it around my neck,” I said, sure of what he was thinking. Victor Grindall had searched for the last Joc
asta for a very long time, and now he wanted only to possess it.

  “I see,” said Grindall. He took the leather pouch in his hand and toyed with it. “All the same, I would feel so much better if I could keep it myself.”

  He pulled up on the pouch and yanked the leather necklace over my head, releasing the Jocasta from my control. Then he opened the pouch and pulled out the stone, which shone brightly in his hand. There was a collective gasp in the grove from the ogres as they looked at the treasure before them. They seemed afraid of it, as though it might destroy them if they were to touch it.

  I had finally lost control of the last Jocasta. I felt sure that the quest had also been lost, that I was near the end of my journey, and that it would end badly.

  “Now then,” said Grindall, placing the Jocasta back in its pouch, “how am I to find the Tenth City so I can return this treasure to its rightful owner?” His laughter spread over the grove uncontained, then he became quiet before shouting a question at me.

  “How do I find the Tenth City?”

  I was defeated, my friends were taken, Armon was hours from an encounter with the black swarm. There was nothing left to do but tell Grindall what he wanted to know and hope that somehow Elyon would save us, that somehow he had a way to keep the ogres from defiling the Tenth City and driving him away forever. I pleaded once more with Grindall, just to be sure he couldn’t be persuaded.

  “If you take these ogres to the Tenth City, they will ruin it. They will drive Elyon away from this place, and Abaddon will rule completely. Are you sure this is what you want? Are you so sure you will remain powerful once he is set free to rule entirely?”

  Grindall answered without hesitation.

  “I’m quite sure of my place, Alexa. You can stop your worrying about how high and how mighty I will be when this day comes to a close. There is but one way to rid the world of Elyon, and that is to bring evil into his precious Tenth City. It’s my duty to drive him away. When I do, I’ll have power to burn.”

  He looked at me with such malice I knew then for sure that he was lost forever.

  “Go to the Sly Field,” I said. “When you get there, take out the Jocasta and follow where it leads you. There you will find the Tenth City.”

  I’d said it. The secret was out in the open air. There was one last chance, but I couldn’t let it show in my voice. Grindall looked down at Warvold, reared back, and kicked him with all his might. I gasped as Warvold went down, watching the blood spill from the side of his head.

  “That’s for leading me around in circles all these years,” said Grindall. Then he looked at his ogres and commanded them: “Gather these prisoners and hold them tight. I’m certain they will want to come along and see their precious Tenth City come to an end.”

  The ogres all laughed grotesquely, spitting and coughing as they did, until Grindall raised his hand and all was quiet once more.

  “Armon!” he yelled. “If you try to break free of our group or make mischief, you’ll bring a swift death to your friends here. If you so much as veer a foot away from your leash, Alexa will be the first to go.” The ogre that held my waist squeezed his mighty, wet hand tighter. I yelped in pain.

  Armon was shaking with anger. Unable to contain himself, he yelled into the air as Grindall laughed and laughed. The forest groaned and swayed at the sound of so much anguish in Armon’s voice.

  “Now, here’s how this is going to work,” Grindall continued. “Armon, you’ll be tethered to one of my ogres, and that ogre will be tied with a rope to another. If you try anything foolish, Alexa will go first, then Yipes. Take care, last giant. Their fate rests in your hands.” Grindall paused, then added a final item, saying it as though it were an afterthought. “Oh, and one more thing, Armon. You’ll need to carry old Warvold there, since he appears to be unable to move. We could leave him here to die, but I think I’d rather he woke up at just the right time so he can finally see the Tenth City for himself. And watch me destroy it!”

  As Grindall began walking from the grove, I looked at Warvold lying beside me. He wasn’t moving, and for a frightening moment I thought he was dead. Armon carefully picked him up and cradled him in his huge arms. Warvold stirred, but only a little. Armon looked at Warvold with great love and compassion, and as an ogre began tying a thick rope around Armon’s neck, I was surprised by the expression on Armon’s face. He looked at the ogre not with hate but with compassion and sorrow.

  Early afternoon was upon the broken forest. We began walking toward the Sly Field in a long line, to places I’d never been and had little hope of ever returning from.

  CHAPTER 17

  THROUGH THE

  SLY FIELD

  I’d forgotten how swiftly Armon and the ogres could travel. Their strides were so long, like three or four of a grown man’s. When they ran, it was amazing how fast they could get from one place to another. It was clear that Grindall wanted to find the Tenth City quickly, before anything else could go wrong. He had fashioned something of a chair that rested on two poles between two ogres. He sat there like a king, high above the rest of us, Odessa at his feet. It looked like a rocky ride, and Grindall often yelled at the ogres to stop being so clumsy. All the while he held the leather pouch around his neck with one hand and ran his other hand along Odessa’s thick mane.

  Besides Grindall’s haste, there was another reason we were moving so fast, a reason I hadn’t expected. The grove in the forest was nearer to the Sly Field than I’d imagined it was, and after we managed to make our way beyond the trees and thicket, the Sly Field appeared as if out of thin air. The forest came quickly to an end, and we were all surprised at what we saw.

  This was a mythical place, a place where almost no one ever went, and so my expectations were set rather high. I thought there would be fantastic creatures or strange formations shooting out of the ground high into the air. I thought there might be sounds I’d never heard, smells I’d never smelled, and all sorts of wonders I’d never imagined before.

  But there were none of these things. An ogre had me held tight to his smelly, moist side, and when he stopped at the edge of the Sly Field I turned my head up and looked out to see —

  Nothing. It was as much nothing as I’d ever seen in my entire life. It was flat and brown and barren. And it went on forever. It looked like an endless, dreary desert of hard earth, not a hill or a bump as far as the eye could see. And it was quiet, so quiet that even the ogres held their breath, listening.

  Somewhere far in the distance, on the horizon, it was white. But it was so very far away I couldn’t be sure what was there, or if there was anything there at all.

  As you might imagine, there wasn’t any reason to go slowly when there was nothing to trip on or duck under. Armon and the ogres could have run with their eyes shut and managed the terrain. I must admit I was a bit let down by the place. It was nice that it wasn’t as dangerous as I thought it would be, but did it have to be so boring and lifeless? I felt about as hopeless as I’d ever felt, dangling at the side of a stinking ogre with my guts being bounced out of me, watching the dead earth race past.

  An hour into our journey, I craned my head to see how Yipes, Armon, and Warvold were doing. They were all in front of me, Yipes in the grip of another ogre and Warvold still looking lifeless as Armon carried him across the Sly Field. I heard a sound overhead and craned further still, twisting my body to see what it was. To my great surprise and excitement I saw Squire circling overhead. I hadn’t seen her since we’d left the stand of trees near Bridewell, and it was wonderful to see and hear her now. Could it really have only been that morning that I had stood on the other side of the road to Turlock? Things were moving so fast. It felt to me as if all the unseen powers around us were racing to the end of time itself, wanting to get things over with.

  I heard Squire screeching in the air once more. Unfortunately, I was not the only one.

  “It’s that wretched bird,” said Grindall. “Stop!”

  The whole lot of us came to a h
alt in the middle of the Sly Field. I looked around in every direction. It was amazing how barren it was, but the white at the distant end was closer now, and I began to think it looked like clouds.

  Grindall pulled a bow from beside his chair and set it with an arrow.

  “Come on down a little lower, you mangy bucket of feathers,” he said, aiming into the air with one eye closed. I looked again at the chair he was seated in. There was a leather compartment that was used to hold the bow and another that held a sword. A third, long and round, held ten or twelve arrows. As I looked at this one, something strange happened.

  The arrows began to move around, only a little, but enough that I could tell something was inside the leather container. A moment later, Murphy’s head popped out, and he looked right at me. I gasped without thinking … causing Grindall to point his arrow down at me.

  “What is it, afraid I’m going to pick your friend out of the sky?” He laughed and let the tension off the bow. “Not today, I’m afraid. She’s too high, which is where she’d better stay if she doesn’t want to be eaten for dinner.”

  Squire screeched from the safety of the air as Grindall put away the bow and the arrow. I looked back to find Murphy, but he was gone, hiding. I felt sure he was thinking up things he probably shouldn’t do.

  “What are you waiting for?” barked Grindall. “It’s hot, and I want a breeze. Move!”

  Armon and the ogres began running again, and I watched as Grindall petted Odessa. It was a miserable sight to see him sitting up there treating my one-time friend like a trusted pet.

  As we continued on, I thought about the few hours that remained of the day. If Elyon had told me the truth, my father would be dead in four or five more hours. I could hardly help but feel overcome with grief.

  A half hour passed with only the sound of giant feet against dry earth. I hadn’t looked up in all that time, and was beginning to fade into a half sleep when Grindall suddenly spoke.