The Dark Hills Divide

by Patrick Carman

“Warvold’s stone revealed that one day terrible forces from this enchanted land would rise up and cause the destruction of everything he had created,” said Ander. “He took this to mean that dark monsters lived out here and would someday enter his kingdom and kill everyone. But he badly misread the meaning of his future.”

  “He was mistaken, just like he told me,” I interjected. “When he sat with me that last night with our backs against the wall, he told me he’d gotten it all wrong.” My head was reeling as I tried to put it all together. “His future wasn’t about dark enchanted monsters at all. He made his own monsters, then let them loose in The Dark Hills to —”

  “Now don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Alexa. You’re only half right. Allow me the indulgence of giving you the whole story, if you would,” said Ander. “When Warvold was told about his future, he was terrified for his wife, Renny, and all the people streaming into Lunenburg. He was beside himself with grief. We tried to explain to him that the Jocasta could be misinterpreted to mean something it did not, and we assured him that we knew of no evil monsters lurking about.”

  “Did you say Jocasta?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s what the messages etched on the stones are called,” Ander replied.

  “How much did Renny Warvold have to do with all this?”

  “A lot, and she was smarter than you can imagine. She brought the enchanted stones here. She started everything.” Ander hunched his enormous back up and let out a low rumbling growl. “I’m not as young as I once was, and we’re approaching my bedtime,” he said absentmindedly. “Where was I? Oh, yes — when Warvold returned to Lunenburg he hatched a plan to build a wall before there was any further expansion. He added more guards and made the arrangement with the leaders in Ainsworth. Everything went as planned, and during the span of the next several years Warvold completed not one but three walled roads, along with three new walled principalities. By the time he’d gone this far, he’d figured out how to use three hundred convicts and hundreds more of his own men to build quickly. The wall between the forest and the mountains was the last. First he built it only eight feet high, then his own people followed behind to finish the rest. It was remarkable, really — sometimes a thousand feet a day were walled in, quickly cutting off the passage between the forest and the mountains. By all accounts the operation was a marvel of speed and efficiency.

  “But Warvold made one important miscalculation in his plan: He trusted the leaders in Ainsworth to take back the criminals. Further, he took them at their word when they said they had indeed taken them back. You see, until that night when you sat with him, Warvold never knew that the leaders in Ainsworth had set those men free in The Dark Hills. They never thought Warvold would actually give them back, and they had planned poorly for their return. The officials in Ainsworth had no place to put them, so they delivered them into The Dark Hills and banished them to the caves. The way the Ainsworth officials figured it, nobody would ever be the wiser.”

  “What caves are you talking about, Ander? I never heard of any caves out there,” I said.

  “The caves were formed when all the materials for the wall were dug up, of course. My dear, there are miles of giant tunnels out there in The Dark Hills, and miles more on the surface made of thick, thorny underbrush. That’s how the convicts get around both above-and belowground without being seen. Where do you think almost three hundred men are going to go?

  “Those walls — those miles and miles of walls — are made from a clay that could only be found underground. Clay is a plentiful substance out there in The Dark Hills and easy to harvest. All one has to do is dig a few feet under the ground and start tunneling. Everything in the tunnel’s path will be pure clay, which was the primary ingredient Warvold wanted for the building blocks.

  “It really isn’t all Warvold’s fault things have developed as they have. Nonetheless, it was his fear that drove him to create a monster. The monster he created is not the collection of criminals who live in The Dark Hills. The monster is the wall itself. But I suppose that would be a debate for another time.”

  Everything was becoming clear now. It was like a giant puzzle with interlocking pieces, and Ander had just fit everything together on one moonlit evening. Only it seemed in the telling that one piece was left missing.

  “Ander, why am I out here?” I said.

  The whispers started up again, and Murphy did backflips and spins. It was exhausting to watch the little squirrel expend so much energy. Ander lifted his head up, and the grove went still and quiet again.

  “We believe that Warvold’s death set in motion the beginning of the end of this age. We have no idea if this eventual end will take five days or five years, but we know it is coming. For better or for worse, you are the chosen one, and not just by us, but by Warvold himself. There is just a tad more I must tell you now, and then we really must get on with reading your stone and shuffling you off to bed. It’s getting late, very late indeed.

  “Alexa, all that you are being told must be kept a secret until the time is right to reveal what you know. Someone in Bridewell is not what he seems. That someone is the one the convicts call Sebastian. We have heard them mention him and his plans. He is living inside Bridewell, giving the orders, making things ready for a time when the convicts will invade all of Bridewell and bring Warvold’s future to pass. Who is Sebastian? I’m sure the birds could tell us if we could understand them, but we have no idea. None whatsoever. I can tell you but one thing: The convicts left the last stone for a reason. They meant it for their leader, and when they find it has been taken, it will enrage them even more.

  “Sebastian must be found out and revealed for the serpent that he is, and the vile criminals must be stopped from invading Bridewell. Cut off the serpent’s head and the whole serpent dies. The convicts are not brilliant men, Alexa. However, they are extremely vengeful, and Sebastian is brilliant. At present, this is a lethal combination.

  “If power is transferred to the criminals, war will be upon us, and the wall will become a military stronghold. Once set in motion, violence will rain down on Bridewell and the wall will remain, possibly forever. We must reveal and remove the danger, and in so doing convince people that the danger is past. That’s our only hope of bringing down the wall.” Ander was skirting around the point he was trying to make, then he stammered and got right to the heart of the matter.

  “You cannot tell anyone about what has taken place here tonight. Especially about Sebastian,” he said.

  “You think Sebastian might be my own father?” I said. The remark was met with a cold, silent stare from Ander. “But my father doesn’t have a C branded on his face,” I yelled.

  “True, but we can’t be certain that Sebastian was a convict,” Ander continued. “It could be someone on the inside who knows more than they are telling and has a motive to side with them. Perhaps it’s someone looking for more power, like a disgruntled son or a crafty guard with wicked ambitions. Maybe it’s an old man who fixes books, or a simple mail carrier with timely access to powerful people. It could be anyone. That is why you can’t tell what you know.

  “Alexa, you know how to work alone and maintain secrecy. You’re small and easily hidden. You have connections to important people, but you’re not important enough yourself to be scrutinized too closely. Face it, Alexa — you’re perfect for the task.”

  I couldn’t argue with Ander’s reasoning.

  “Only one thing left to do — read your Jocasta,” said Ander.

  “What if I don’t want it revealed? What if I’d rather not know my future?” I said.

  “That is your choice to make and we will honor it. But in this case, I must say, I think your Jocasta will give you much-needed clarity for the days to come,” said Ander.

  I sat silent for a long moment, and then I looked straight into the grizzly’s powerful face.

  “Read it,” I said.

  Yipes jumped down off his perch and walked toward us. He crawled right up on the big, flat
rock and removed a magnifying glass from his vest. Then he held the glass against his eye and put his face less than an inch from the rhythmically pulsating stone. Boom, boom, boom. After a moment, he rose into a sitting position and looked at Ander. Ander nodded and Yipes looked at me.

  “You will be the one to find the serpent,” he said.

  PART 2

  CHAPTER 15

  AN UNEXPECTED ENEMY

  The trapdoor wavered in the air while Yipes held it up as best he could. I think he pretended to make it look more difficult than it was so he could more easily avoid eye contact with me. We were both sad that I was going back to Bridewell that morning.

  “You have a visitor, Alexa,” said Yipes. I looked back over my shoulder into the heat of the morning sun. Standing motionless off in the distance was the silhouette of a large wolf. I waved to him and he turned to the west and headed up into the mountains.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  I started down the ladder into the dark tunnel.

  “Wait!” yelled Yipes. “I almost forgot to give you this.” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small tube. “Not to be shared until you know who is found out. And one other thing.” He wagged his finger at me, trying to balance the heavy door with his other hand. “Be careful who you talk to from here on out. Trust no one.”

  As he said this, it was clear he was losing control of the trapdoor, and it swayed dangerously above me. I scrambled down another three rungs as fast as I could and the door came swinging down with its full force, slamming and showering me with a storm of dirt. I lost my grip and hung by three fingers from the ladder. A few more inches and the door would have hammered me like a nail into a thirty-foot free fall.

  I regained my footing and my grip on the ladder and shook the dirt from my hair and shoulders. It was pitch-black in the tunnel. I waited and waited for Yipes to open the door, but it remained dark and quiet. “Yipes!” I yelled, but received no answer. I removed a wooden match from my pouch and struck it against the ladder. The light revealed the lamp I had left hanging on the third rung down. Thankfully it had not plunged to the floor and smashed into useless pieces.

  I lit the lamp and felt much better once I could see my surroundings. I held it out over the open air, but I could not see the bottom. The darkness swallowed up the light about ten feet down. I waited until the intense pain in my hands threatened my grip on the ladder. I called again for Yipes but got no answer. Then I started the slow descent to the floor of the tunnel, moving the lamp down three rungs at a time as I went.

  When I reached the bottom I found the book I had left behind, covered in dirt. “I bet you never thought you’d see me again,” I said to Cabeza de Vaca. “You’re looking well these days. Travels treating you all right?” A sparkle from the corner of the tunnel caught my eye and I held the lamp over it. There in the dirt was the tube Yipes had given me. It was about four inches long and an inch around, with jewels embedded across its wood surface. The top was closed with a wooden cork.

  I removed the cork with a pop and took out a paper scroll. Attached was a note, which read Make sure you don’t accidentally give this to the wrong person, signed by Yipes. I unrolled the paper and revealed what looked to be an exact copy of the map I had seen hanging on the underground wall where the convicts were. This must have been what Yipes was working on when he spent time down in that secret passageway.

  The map showed both black and brown lines, along with notations about some of them. The black lines represented belowground tunnels, the brown ones aboveground passageways created by thick brush. I’d have to give the map careful review when I had more light and could make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.

  I looked up once more, hoping I would see a crack of light and Yipes’s little face peering down at me. Seeing only darkness, I turned and started walking for Bridewell. My pace quickened when I thought of seeing my father, Grayson, Ganesh, Nicolas, and Silas. I slowed down when I thought of Pervis. The idea of sleeping in my own bed or talking to Sam and Pepper for the first time or searching for a good book in the library got me moving faster again. I knew that the second I opened the trapdoor back into the library my stone would start weakening and my ability to talk with the animals would slowly disappear. This made me shuffle slowly and look over my shoulder in the direction I’d come from. It was a bittersweet journey, to say the least.

  Eventually I stood on the ladder at the top of the tunnel in the stairwell, listening for any sign of movement in the library. It seemed to me that I had been gone a lifetime, seen a whole new world, and returned as an altogether different person.

  “Is that you, Alexa?” came a feline voice from the other side.

  Be careful who you talk to from here on out. Trust no one. Yipes’s words clanged around in my head like a dinner bell.

  “It’s me, Sam,” came the cat’s voice again. It was strange to understand his meowing, but its meaning was crystal clear. “Pepper is keeping an eye on Grayson. It’s all clear for you to come out.”

  I opened the trapdoor toward me, blew out the lamp, hung it on a rung, and then pushed the chair out of the way. The light was bright at first and I saw only the silhouette of Sam looking down at me from his roost on the back of the chair. I smiled and said, “Hey, Sam! How are you doing?”

  “Alexa, answer me. Can you understand what I’m saying, Alexa?” Sam demanded, his dark outline held motionless against the dusty light streaming in behind him.

  I pretended not to hear him, which aggravated him more.

  “Come on, Alexa, let’s have it!” he shouted. “I know you can understand me. I want to hear the latest from Ander.”

  Sam jumped down and leaned against my legs, staring up at me with his penetrating gray eyes. Time seemed to stand still as he purred and paced back and forth. He took a long, final look at me and then jumped back up on the chair.

  “Stupid girl,” he said. “As useless as ever. All you hear is purring and meowing all the livelong day. I should have expected as much.” I turned away from Sam toward the bookshelf and fanned my hands over the rows of books to hide the shock on my face.

  As I stood and thought nervously about what to do next, a flash of shadows moved about the room and the sound of beating wings filled the small space. I had not noticed the perfectly still hawk sitting in the sill, waiting for information. As I turned to look I saw the bird flying off into the bright morning sun.

  “Off to tell Sebastian of Alexa’s return, no doubt,” said Sam.

  I tried desperately to remember all the things Sam and Pepper would have seen me doing or heard me saying. How many times had hawks watched me? Were they watching when Warvold died and I took the key? I absentmindedly ran my hand along my forearm, feeling the wicked scratch Pepper had given me when I’d tried to take his amulet in my hands. Traitors, both of them. I could hardly believe it. And the hawk — it was also a traitor. I had to get a message to Ander.

  “No more time for petting right now, Sam, I’ve got lots to do,” I said with false cheer. Then I moved the chair back into its proper place and dusted myself off as best I could. I was dirty, so sneaking up to my room for a quick cleanup before anyone saw me was essential. I quietly wound my way through the corridors of books, creaking the floorboards here and there as I continued cautiously in the direction of Grayson’s office. I peeked around the last corner and saw that his door was ajar, Pepper’s long tail flicking up and down at the floor. I had a momentary feeling of fear as Sam purred up against my leg unexpectedly.

  “Pepper!” Sam said. “She’s as dumb as a post, not a word out of her.” Pepper’s head came whipping around in the doorjamb.

  “That you, Sam?” came Grayson’s voice. Things were getting complicated in a hurry and I’d been back in Bridewell for only a few minutes.

  I crept down the hallway as quietly as I could while Sam held back in front of Grayson’s door.

  “That’s it, slink off to your room for a nice long nap,” Sam jeered
.

  The floorboards creaked a few paces from the library door, and I froze for a brief moment.

  “Who’s there? … Alexa, is that you?” It was Grayson, but I was safely on the other side of the door and out of sight a second later.

  My room had never looked so wonderful. I hid my stone, the tube Yipes had given me, and the other trinkets I had been carrying around. I put on a fresh set of clothes and performed a healthy bit of primping on myself, then flopped down on my bed and felt as though I could sleep for a month. I thought of all the events of the past three days and drifted off into dreams of talking animals and men with brands on their faces.

  I awoke at midday, sweaty and hot. I had been dreaming of a hawk at my window. It was scratching and clawing to get inside, and in my dream I let the bird in and it chased me around my room, landed on my head, and ripped chunks of my hair out with its monstrous claws. As I sat up in my bed, all wet and clammy from the heat and the awful dream, I heard scraping at the shutter. Was I still dreaming or had I actually awoke? I cautiously got out of bed.

  Everything hurt, and my feet felt as though they were walking on a bed of nails. As I hobbled over to the window, I realized that whatever was banging and scratching to get in was much smaller than a hawk, and it was scampering around from side to side outside the shutter. It could be only one animal: Murphy, the hyperactive squirrel from the grove. I swung the shutters open and he spilled into the room, bouncing from place to place, sniffing everything and whipping his tail from side to side.

  “This is an unexpected surprise,” I said.

  He was behind my bed between the bathroom and the nightstand, and I had to walk around the room to find him.

  “I think it would be best if we stayed away from the window,” he said. “You never know who might be watching us.”

  I lay down on my stomach and propped myself up at the elbows. It felt good to be off my feet. Murphy remained lively, darting under the bed, flying out with a leap, and landing on my back — then running down my legs and circling back.