The Tenth City

by Patrick Carman

  “Stop, you fools!”

  When we lurched to a halt, I looked up and saw why Grindall had given his order.

  The white in the distance, the white we had all seen, had changed. It had come alive.

  My breath caught in my throat as I watched the white mass coming toward us like a flood of water on the land. It looked like a wall of white waves, and I was certain then that the end really had come. There would be no way to outrun the approaching fury before us, and I realized why very few people had entered the Sly Field and lived to tell about it.

  “Don’t worry about a thing — it’s not what it appears to be,” came a crackling whisper. At first I thought it was the voice of Elyon, but how could it be with Grindall carrying the last Jocasta? I looked toward the voice and saw Warvold, his head hanging back from Armon’s arm, facing me. He’d awoken. I looked at him and smiled, very happy to see that he was still alive. I was afraid if I spoke to him the others might hear, and Grindall might become enraged at our conversation. Warvold continued to stare at me as the white waves grew nearer, coming even faster now.

  “What’s happening?” yelled Grindall. The ogres were agitated, and they began to stir and back up. I thought they might start to run away, back toward the forest, which would have been a pointless effort.

  “Stay where you are!” Grindall commanded. “There’s no escaping this thing, whatever it is. If it means to have us, then have us it will.”

  I kept looking at Warvold, watching him, hoping he wouldn’t slip back into his dreams. Even though I trusted him, I was terrified of the white waves bearing down on us.

  “Have you tricked me one last time, Warvold?” said Grindall. “Would you really take us all to our deaths just to see me destroyed?”

  Grindall turned to the oncoming wrath of waves and laughed, raising his arms as if mocking the power that had come against him.

  “There’s something I must tell you, Alexa,” whispered Warvold, his voice like a thin wisp of air. There was something about his voice that made me pause. With something so big and terrible approaching us, how could I hear such a small voice? It struck me then that the white mass of waves was as quiet as the Sly Field itself — it made no noise at all. It approached as quietly as a snake slithering on the earth, closer and closer. As Warvold shut his eyes and slipped back into unconsciousness, the waves passed over us.

  If you can imagine what it feels like to wake from a dream and open your eyes only to see that the world has disappeared, then you can imagine something of what it felt like the moment we were overtaken. Imagine looking at your hand and only being able to see it if you place it a few inches from your face. The world had gone white, with a mist so thick it took my breath away.

  “How curious,” said Grindall. I could hear his voice, the way he was concerned but happy he hadn’t been drowned. Still, the touch of happiness in his voice was gone a moment later as he commanded those around him.

  “Armon! If you’re thinking of using this development to your advantage, I don’t recommend it. Alexa and Yipes are still in the hands of my ogres, and I’d hate to think what would happen to your friends if you attempted something.”

  “I’m only standing here, the same as everyone else,” Armon answered. “I’m wondering what you intend to do, now that we’re lost in the Sly Field.”

  The next minute was silent but for the grunting and shuffling feet of the ogres. During this long silence, something happened that greatly comforted me, something wonderful in the middle of a terrible situation. In the secrecy of the mist I felt something grab hold of my foot, then crawl slowly along my leg until it reached the place around my waist where the ogre had hold of me. There was a tiny flit of a noise, then whatever it was landed on my exposed shoulder, holding tightly with its claws so as not to fall. It was Murphy, come to be close to me once he knew he could not be seen. It made me wonder how he could have found his way in the white that was everywhere. Maybe he had used his sense of smell or could simply see a little better than I could in this strange place. I could see my own hand if I held it in front of my face, and now, as Murphy burrowed in between my arm and my chest, I saw his face and I was happy. He whispered in my ear, but with the Jocasta gone I couldn’t understand him. All I heard were the pleasing sounds a squirrel makes.

  “Alexa, are you all right?” It was Yipes, risking a question in the mist.

  “Quiet! All of you stop your talking. I’m trying to think.” It was Grindall, shouting down at us from his unseen chair.

  The stone will show you the way.

  I thought again about what I’d seen on the cliffs at the sea with Armon and Murphy two days before. The storm had been raging on the water far below, pushing the Warwick Beacon out to sea, and we’d witnessed what Elyon had sent us there for. As I hung there on the side of the ogre and reflected on these things, I didn’t know what I should do. I’d brought things this far … but now they felt out of my hands.

  As it turned out, it didn’t matter what I thought or what I said. As I was busy with the ideas in my head, the mist began to glow with a brilliant orange light … and in that light I saw the wicked face of Grindall staring right at me.

  “Ahhhhhhh,” he said, “how perfectly marvelous!” He crowed as he held out the Jocasta, then moved it in a circle in the mist around him. The orange light died a quick death in every direction — every direction but one. As Grindall held the Jocasta in a certain place, the orange light flew out of the stone and illuminated a thin pathway of light ten feet in front of us.

  “Go that way! Slowly!” Grindall yelled to the ogres beneath him. They obeyed, and as they went, the pathway of light continued ten feet in front of them. When he moved the light and held it in any other direction, the pathway disappeared and we were lost once more. How I wished I could have the Jocasta back and be rid of this dreadful man and his ogres!

  “To the Tenth City, and quickly!” Grindall said, the back of his head a silhouette surrounded by fiery light. We were on the move again, slower now, following a pathway that only showed itself in bits and pieces.

  I could only imagine where the path would lead.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE PATHWAY

  Grindall and the ogres had a memory of what the Sly Field looked like before the mist overtook them, and Grindall used this memory to encourage the ogres to continue moving quickly. True, they could only see a few feet in front of them, but there was nothing but flat land in all directions. Going slowly would only bring on the night sooner, and who knew if the Jocasta could provide light through mist and darkness working together against us?

  Grindall seemed more agitated the farther we went, barking orders without ceasing, holding the Jocasta out in front of him as far as he could, aiming it just so.

  The warmth of the sun had been blotted out, and a moist coolness filled the mist. Murphy shivered in my arms and bore his nose up into my neck as we trudged on. I wondered what he might be thinking. In the past, his little mind was most dangerous at perilous times such as these.

  “We’re close — I can feel it,” said Grindall. He commanded his ogres to stop and turned in our direction, holding the Jocasta near his face so we could all see him. He was strange-looking in the mix of light and haze, like an evil spirit come to haunt the Sly Field and live in our nightmares. He held the stone beneath his chin. Shards of light shot up over his face.

  “Armon?” he called out.

  There was a pause, and for a moment I thought Armon had escaped with Warvold and was hiding somewhere off in the distance. But then he spoke, and I had to admit I was glad to hear him so near to me.

  “I am here,” said Armon.

  “Hand over Warvold to the ogre you’re tied to — I have something for you to do.” It was a command made with unnerving pleasure. Whatever Grindall was up to, he was acting as though he was about to enjoy something wicked.

  “Get one of your own monsters to do your bidding. I’m not letting him go,” answered Armon.

 
; The thin light on Grindall’s face revealed his changed expression — he was toying with Armon, and he knew who was in control.

  “Ogres, give Alexa and Yipes a squeeze, won’t you?”

  I felt a gigantic arm tighten around my waist and heard the sloshing of the ogre’s insides against my head as he laughed. I felt infected by this creature, as though I’d been next to him so long I would never get the smell or the feeling away. Neither Yipes nor I made a sound for a few seconds, trying our best to hold out, but when I felt my ribs about to crack in two I let out a scream that filled the air.

  “All right! I’ll give him up and do as you say,” Armon cried. “Stop what you’re doing to them!”

  I felt the ogre loosen his hold on me. I could breathe again, but I felt sick. As I gasped for air the smell — the awful wet smell — finally got the better of me, and I threw up. I couldn’t really see what I’d done, but now the ogre was laughing as whatever had come out of my mouth ran down his leg and only added to the aroma of death all around me.

  “Whichever one of you ogres is tied to Armon, take Warvold from him,” said Grindall. I listened as the ogre grunted and laughed.

  “You may hold him,” said Armon, speaking to the ogre in the thick of the mist. “But if you harm him in any way, you’ll have me to answer to.” The ogre became quiet, knowing full well that Armon was but a hair away from taking matters into his own hands.

  “Have you got him? Have you got Warvold?” asked Grindall.

  The ogre grumbled and moaned something, and then Grindall said something that broke my heart.

  “Take him over your head and throw him as far as you can. He’s dead weight, and he serves no purpose. I don’t want him seeing the place he’s searched for his whole life, even as I destroy it. Throw him!”

  “NO!” Armon, Yipes, and I all cried at the same time. I could tell that Armon was swinging out his arms, trying to grab hold of the ogre. The pressure on my waist tightened again, and I gasped and screamed. I squeezed Murphy tighter than I ought to have and he squirmed free, darting off into the Sly Field to places I could not see.

  “Alexa!”

  Time stood still in the Sly Field as I heard Warvold’s voice call to me, loud and authoritative.

  “There’s something you must know —”

  At that very moment I heard the ogre howl, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew that Warvold was flying through the air. I listened and heard the thud as he hit the ground somewhere far away in the white of the Sly Field. I cried out for him, screaming and clawing to be let go from the ogre so I could run into the unknown and find Warvold. My captor laughed while I swung my arms and legs trying to get free, until finally I hung there, sobbing and broken. Would I ever hear what Warvold wanted to tell me, or had his voice been forever silenced?

  “So good to have the trash thrown out, don’t you think?” said Grindall. I couldn’t look up at his hideous face surrounded in burning light and a sea of mist. He was the most awful man I could have imagined, and I only wished that he would go away and leave me and my friends alone.

  Armon and Yipes were silent, so silent that I wondered if they were still alive. Maybe Armon’s heart had finally been broken entirely, and he’d had enough of our world — and Yipes, he was so small, maybe the ogre that held him had squeezed a little too hard and snapped his insides into pieces. The only thing I did hear that made me realize I wasn’t dead myself was the ever-present voice of Victor Grindall.

  “Ogres, we are very close to the Tenth City. I can feel it. Can you feel it, Armon? You should know. It’s your home, isn’t it? Don’t you wish you could go back there again and get away from all this garbage around you?”

  There was no response from Armon, only the heavy breathing of the ogres.

  “Answer me!” yelled Grindall. “Don’t you want to go home, Armon?”

  “The Tenth City is yours, Victor Grindall. You’ve got what you wanted. Just leave Yipes and Alexa with me and finish what you came here to do.” From his voice, it was clear that Armon’s spirit had been broken at the thought of having let poor Warvold out of his care.

  Grindall laughed and laughed. He laughed so hard I thought he might fall out of his chair.

  “To see you falling apart like this is a pleasure I did not expect to enjoy. But what a joy it is!” Grindall proudly summoned his minions. “Onward, ogres! Onward to the Tenth City where we can do some real damage.”

  And then we were moving again, every stride of the ogre wrenching my swollen side. Until then I hadn’t realized how sore I was. It was as if I had a deep bruise through my entire middle from the pounding, and it was all I could do not to hang there crying.

  The next thing I must tell is so very frightening that I hesitate to finish what I’ve started. I knew when I began this story I would eventually find myself here, in the Sly Field, with my memories of this place so fresh and real. These things happened quickly, without warning, and one on top of the other in such a way that the details are blurred in my mind.

  What I remember most is that it started with the sound of bats.

  CHAPTER 19

  NEARING THE END

  “I know that sound, that lovely sound,” said Grindall.

  We all heard it coming from somewhere beyond the Jocasta-lit pathway. It was the sound of the black swarm, the sea of a thousand bats, and it was directly in front of us.

  “They’ve found it! The bats, they’ve found the Tenth City! How perfect for me!” Grindall exclaimed. “Now I can add one more to my host of ogres on the way in. Armon, I’m afraid this day is about to go from bad to terrible for you.”

  “Armon, run! You must run away!” I yelled. “Don’t let them take you. It’s not worth it.”

  At that very moment I heard a strange sound, a snapping sound, wet and soft.

  “Armon? Where are you?” asked Grindall, holding the Jocasta out in front of him to try to see farther. It was a useless effort, as even the sharp light of the Jocasta only lit the ten feet in front of him. We could see Grindall, but he could not see any of us, which gave us certain advantages he hadn’t thought of.

  I heard the soft, wet snap again — it was a very strange sound — this time followed by a thud on the earth.

  “Ogres, I’ve had enough of this nonsense! Squeeze the life out of Yipes and the girl. The bats will take care of Armon.” The black-winged creatures were swarming closer now, not far from Grindall at the front of our group. The ogre that held me laughed hideously and began to squeeze tighter and tighter until I went from feeling pain to feeling nothing at all. And then I heard the sound again. Snap, squish, and this time a groan above me. The ogre released his grip around my waist and tumbled to the ground.

  I lay breathing next to him, trying to figure out what had happened. I held my arms around my own waist, rocking back and forth, waiting for whatever trouble would find its way to me next. There was a giant hand on my shoulder, and then Armon’s face was suddenly so close I could see his eyes.

  “Stay very still,” he whispered.

  “Where’s Yipes?” I whispered back. Armon only had time for two words, but what wonderful words they were.

  “He’s free.”

  I shivered as the three snaps I’d heard made sense to me now. Armon had waited just long enough to take the lives of three ogres. First, he’d torn free of the rope that held him and snapped the neck of the ogre he had been tied to. That task complete, he’d managed the same assault on the ogres holding Yipes and me in the mist. Thinking back on it now, I realized that Armon had hours in the Sly Field to observe the ogres and where they were placed in the group, how they lined up. Even when the mist overtook us, the ogres remained in much the same positions as we traveled along. Armon used this knowledge to do what he’d done. I was again stunned at his power.

  “Run, ogres! Run into the Tenth City — take it and defile it!” Grindall screamed, knowing things were spinning out of his control. “Follow the sound of the bats and run with all your might!”<
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  Go, I thought. Run.

  I had to trust in Elyon. I had to believe this was what was meant to happen.

  Grindall held the Jocasta out in front of him, and I strained to see what would happen. As I had suspected, Murphy had plans of his own, and he was darting up Grindall’s arm toward the last stone. I couldn’t see what happened next, but I could guess from Grindall’s shattered voice that Murphy was attacking his hand, the hand that held the stone. It flew free in the mist as the ogres charged on, and then I lost sight of it. A moment later there was only the mist all around me, a faint orange glow somewhere at the edge of my sight, and nothing but the sound of bats and ogres and Victor Grindall shouting as they charged into the Tenth City.

  Only it wasn’t the Tenth City at all.

  On they ran and ran, Victor Grindall held high above the rest, the bats leading the way, until all we could hear were their screams as they fell over the edge to the place they all belonged — the home of Abaddon — the great pit at the edge of the sea.

  I’d tricked them.

  The screams seemed to last forever as we listened to them falling deeper and deeper into the depths. The bats struggled to fly out, but a force greater than their wings was pulling them down, back to their dark source. Their shrieking was the first to fall to nothing. Then the ogres’ cries vanished. Finally, even Victor Grindall’s terrible voice could be heard no more.

  The silence lasted only a moment before the broken world came alive in ways that my memory will never let go of. The land shook violently, and a great, anguished roar charged up from the pit. It echoed through the Sly Field, the force of the voice carried on a thunderous wind that blew out of the darkest places in The Land of Elyon.

  Abaddon.

  His messengers had been returned to him. He no longer had a hold on our world. His isolation was now complete.

  Elyon had won.

  A hot wind rushed over me and threw me onto my back, dust sticking in my eyes and pouring over my clothes. I pried open my eyes and saw that the searing wind had blown the mist clear from the land and water, and I was stunned to find we were quite near to the edge of the cliffs. The terrible voice from the pit ceased, and the burning wind accompanying it subsided. At that one moment in time I saw things I’d only imagined — I saw The Land of Elyon for what it really was.