Victor Grindall looked at it, laughed nervously, and reached out his hand to take it away. And that’s when I realized Balmoral was right: Elyon saw everything, even things Abaddon could not see in all his terrible desire for the stone. At the very moment Grindall was about to touch the stone, Squire screeched louder than I have ever heard her screech, and flew into the room, her massive wings flapping, her serious eyes focused entirely on the Jocasta.
Startled, Grindall turned for a moment and saw Squire come in through the window. I watched as Murphy dropped from the beams that ran across the ceiling. As Grindall looked back to the Jocasta, he felt Murphy’s teeth dig deep into his outstretched hand. Grindall screamed and grabbed Murphy, but Murphy would not let go. While they struggled, Squire arrived at the Jocasta, took it in one of her great claws, turned sharp against the back wall, and flapped for the window. As she arrived at the opening to the outside, an ogre slapped down with his sword. Feathers and sparks flew around the windowsill, but it was no use for Grindall. The ogre had only grazed Squire’s tail, and the last Jocasta was gone from the room.
Murphy let go and scampered up one of the walls, then perched atop a beam near the ceiling. The sound of dogs barking and men clamoring to get in grew louder. The four ogres were struggling mightily now to keep the door closed.
“The army is about to break in,” I said. “Have you any last words before we take the Dark Tower and destroy the last of your evil ogres?”
Grindall looked on me with loathing, trying to hide what must have been extreme pain from the bite Murphy had given him.
“Such a dreadful child,” he said, and then his voice rose louder and louder. “You’ve only made things worse. Elyon is never coming back. What you’ve done has enraged me even more. I was content to sit here in Castalia and keep Abaddon under control. But look what you’ve done — you’ve released Abaddon to the rest of the world. This tower can no longer hold his rage.”
Then he turned to his ogres and commanded them.
“Go! Make way for the true king!”
It was unthinkable, but five of the ten ogres — those not guarding the door or holding Yipes — ran to the window and jumped out. The door was about to come down and the remaining four ogres grunted and howled uncontrollably in their effort to keep Balmoral’s army out of the room.
“You have unleashed Abaddon, and he will not rest until he rules everything,” Grindall vowed. “I would suggest you leave this place now. The Dark Tower will soon crumble into pieces. You must live so you can return the last stone to me.”
Then Grindall grunted at the ogre holding Yipes. The beast held Yipes under his arm, went to the window, and jumped out. I screamed for Yipes, but it was no use. He was gone.
Grindall bent down and put his awful face a few inches from my own. He reached out with his bloody hand and touched my cheek, saying, “There is a place I haven’t had need of for a long time, especially with Ganesh watching it so closely for me all those years.”
“Ganesh worked for you?” I asked, newly amazed at Grindall’s reach.
“Well, of course he did, you silly child. What do you think, that I’m not aware of all that goes on in your pathetic little kingdom beyond the Dark Hills?”
The way he said it made me wonder if there were others under his command within Bridewell. But who?
I shivered.
“I’ll give you three days to meet me in Bridewell,” Grindall went on. “You bring me my stone and I’ll give you back your friend. Trust me, Alexa — Elyon is not coming back. This quest you’re on is futile. You can save your friend and you can have a place of power with me. Just bring me the stone.”
We looked at each other for a long moment, then Grindall rose to his feet and called to the remaining four ogres. He turned for the window, ran, and dove out into the night air like the rest. As soon as he was gone the last of the ogres bolted from the room and ran for the window, leaving the door behind as it splintered and broke open.
I crossed to the window and watched as they fell through the air, falling for such a long time, and then landing in a giant pool behind the Dark Tower. The pool was attached to the lake by a canal, and from beneath the tower I could see torchlight moving, as if on a boat. Grindall and the ten ogres had escaped, and they would cross the lake into the Dark Hills, bringing their evil plans who knew where.
Balmoral was in the room. He knelt down and put his arm around me.
“Are you all right, Alexa? Why did you come up here without us?”
“He’s taken Yipes,” I said, unable to think of anything else.
Balmoral and a few of his guards advanced to the window just as Squire was returning, which scared them all back for a moment. Squire flew around the room and dropped the Jocasta in my hand, then landed on a beam and screeched loudly.
“She’s telling us to get out of here,” I said. “Grindall has some way of bringing down the tower. We’ve got to get everyone out and find the dungeon before the whole thing tumbles down.”
“What are you talking about?” Balmoral asked. “He’s gone — I can see his boat from here. It’s already moving out onto the lake.” Then he paused a moment, and we all felt the tower shake and wobble back and forth.
“Oh, no,” Balmoral said.
Everyone was running out of the room and down the stairs as quickly as they could. Balmoral was one of the last to go and Scroggs remained at his side.
“Come on, Alexa!” Balmoral urged.
I turned to Murphy and called him to my shoulder. I replaced the Jocasta in its pouch, then jumped onto the windowsill and looked back at Balmoral.
“We’re going this way,” I said. Murphy looked at me as though I’d lost my mind, and Balmoral yelled back at me to get off the sill. Then I heard Squire come up behind me and I watched as she flew free into the air. Murphy and I followed out the window, into the night. I closed my eyes, hoping the water below would cushion our fall enough to keep us alive. We flew and flew, down toward the ground, and then everything was cold and dark, my body stinging from the impact.
CHAPTER 23
THE DUNGEON
I burst out of the water, the sting from hitting the pool with such force still hanging over my body. I hadn’t touched bottom even though my ears felt like they might burst from the depth. The pool was much larger than it looked from above, and clearly it was very deep. I saw Murphy paddling with all his might for the shore, and then I looked down the canal toward the lake and saw that Grindall was already well on his way, the ogres rowing on both sides, the group of them disappearing into the night.
I waded to the edge of the pool and crawled up onto dry land. The hour was late and already the dew had begun to gather on the slope. Early morning would soon come. I was behind the tower, which was guarded by two high walls that ran from the tower to the edge of the water. This was a secret place, a place prepared for just such a day, a day when Grindall might need to escape quickly without being stopped by anyone on foot.
The tower rumbled above and a section of stone broke free into the air, toppling down and banging along the side of the great structure as it went. It was bigger than a grown man and landed with a loud thud behind the wall. It shook the very ground we stood on.
“What could Grindall have done to set the tower to fall?” I asked.
Murphy was running his paws over his tail, wringing the water out of it.
“He must have used the might of the ten ogres at the base of the tower,” said Murphy. “Maybe he had this whole thing set up so he could jump and then remove stones that were made ready for just such a night. If the right stones have been pulled out at the base, it’s certainly possible he could bring down the whole thing. In any case, we haven’t much time before it collapses entirely. We’d better get moving.”
We stood and began walking along the edge of the pool toward the tower, where a large opening gaped before us. The sunken cave was completely black inside, the water like a sinister dark syrup hanging low in the space. This must have been
where the boat was kept, and it was our only hope of getting into the dungeon before the tower crumbled all around us.
I heard voices and shouting on the other side of the wall and saw the flicker of torchlight against the tower. Then a huge hand grabbed hold of the top edge of the barrier, and what must have been one of the last of the ogres pulled himself up onto the wall and stood upright. He did not see us, he only stood and howled, arrows sticking out from his legs and one arm, blood pouring off him from all over. And then something miraculous happened. Armon, whom I’d sent to the cliffs, jumped onto the edge of the wall and stood toe to toe with the damaged beast. Armon was every bit the powerful fighter and he quickly overcame the ogre. The two fought with swords for a brief moment, and then Armon knocked the ogre back off the wall, away from us, and I could hear the Castalians below overtake him.
“Throw me a torch!” Armon yelled to the people below. A moment later he had the light in his hand. He then jumped down on our side of the wall, and in three quick strides stood towering over Murphy and me.
“Why aren’t you hiding at the cliffs?” I asked. I was happy to see him but also worried.
“I stayed there for a while and watched the swarm making its way toward me, but before it reached me it turned,” said Armon. “It appears it has fled to the lake, following Grindall and the ten remaining ogres.”
Looking out over the water, it did seem as though a black cloud hovered over Grindall’s boat, a cloud slightly darker than the rest of the night hanging over the lake.
Armon motioned behind him. “That ogre on the ledge there, he was the last of them remaining here. The Castalians are free at last.”
Just then the tower wobbled once more, this time with more force, and another stone tumbled off the top section to the ground, larger this time and accompanied by a group of smaller sections that were torn loose as well. From over the lake I heard the distant laughter of Victor Grindall, who was roaming free and heading toward my homeland.
“We have to reach the dungeon and save Catherine,” I said. “We must hurry!”
Without another word Armon was moving, the torchlight dancing on the walls of the cavernous opening. He stepped into the water and was quickly in past his chest.
“Grab hold of my shoulders!” he yelled.
Murphy scampered up my body and sat on my head and I waded out into the water. I wrapped my hands around Armon’s thick neck and he began to swim into the darkness, one hand holding up the torch, the other paddling us into the murky cavern. Before long Armon was walking again, and I dropped down off his shoulders and waded until I could stand. When I reached the place where Armon stood, there was a stout wooden door built into the stone base of the tower. It was marred with age and half decayed from the moisture, but it was still a terribly strong-looking barrier to our entrance.
Armon handed the torch to me and ran his fingers along the edges on the top and sides of the obstacle before us. The tower rumbled once more and dirt showered down on us. I closed my eyes, certain that we’d missed our chance, sure the tower was about to come down on us. But once again it held, not ready to fall to pieces just yet.
“Hold the torch down here,” Armon said. I angled it down near his feet and illuminated the muddy earth at the base of the door. There was enough of a gap that Armon could get both of his hands underneath.
“Stand back,” he said, crouching down and waiting for me to move away from the door. There was no place else to go, so I backed down into the water until I stood with only my head and arm protruding out. Murphy’s paws had hold of clumps of my hair, and he tightened his grip with each step back into the water until I finally had to tell him to stop.
Armon used all his strength to lift the door up and out. He groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the cavern. The door broke free and Armon fell back into the water just in front of me, sending a massive wave of water over my head. Armon caught hold of my arm and dragged me back to the door, both of us dripping wet, the torch a black ball of smoldering ash. Murphy had lost his grip and paddled up behind me.
Through the opening there was a long stone hallway and torches along the walls. I picked up Murphy, whose wet fur felt like a soggy bit of green moss, and I ran through the entrance and down the hallway with its flickering light. Armon was close behind, and as the tower trembled above us we descended the stairs into the dungeon. Huge wooden beams lined the ceiling, creaking under the pressure of the tower. There were no longer any moments of silence — the tower was coming down, and it was coming down in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.
We rounded a corner on the stairs and then landed on a dirt floor in a long room. On either side were arched stone entryways, five on each side, and between each entryway were torches. At the end of the room, there was a large chair and a set of keys hanging low from one of the legs. Next to them was a narrow flight of stone stairs that led up into darkness. Armon took one of the torches and walked along the length of the room, flashing the light toward the entryways, discovering that each was covered with thick iron bars. These had to be the dungeon’s cells.
“Catherine!” I screamed, but no one answered. We went a bit farther, past the first two sets of cells, which were empty. And then, at the third cell on the left, we found a body hunched over in the back corner. Armon handed the torch to me and took the thick bars in his hands. He groaned madly, trying with all his might to pull the bars away, but his strength was beginning to diminish with exhaustion. He stepped back with a puzzled look on his face, as though he couldn’t imagine such a thing as bars he couldn’t bend. He set his brow, grabbed the bars again, and tried once more to pull them apart. Just as the bars began to separate with agonizing slowness, Murphy spoke.
“Theeth wight helph.” He held the ring of keys between his teeth, and Armon looked down at little Murphy and smiled.
“You make up for lack of size with impressive resourcefulness.” Armon took the keys, inserted one of them into the lock, and swung open the iron gate.
I ran into the small, damp cell, calling Catherine’s name over and over. I knelt down beside the frail body, all crumpled over and dirty. Armon bent down and entered the cell with me, his huge presence nearly filling the space on its own.
I touched the body, shook the shoulder, and pulled the rumpled hair back from the face. I knew immediately that it was her. It was the woman I had known as Renny Warvold, who my adventure had taught me was Catherine. She was skinny to the bones and barely breathing, but it was definitely Catherine. She opened her eyes then, and looked at me with such joy I could hardly keep from hugging her frail body. It broke my heart to see her in such agony.
“Alexa?” she whispered.
Armon moved me aside, picked up Catherine, and strode out of the cell. The walls were beginning to crumble and the whole room was filled with the noise of impending doom. I got the message loud and clear: There would be time to reacquaint ourselves later. To my astonishment, Armon turned back toward the cells we had yet to check.
“Armon, where are you going?” I yelled. “We have to get out of here or we’ll never make it.”
And then it happened. The most miraculous thing I could have imagined in my most fanciful dreams. Murphy had gone out ahead while we tended to Catherine, and he had delivered the keys to another cell, which was now open. As we approached the archway to that last cell on the left, a man slowly walked out into the torchlight. He had a long, white beard, he was thin but strong-looking, and I recognized him immediately.
“Right on time, dear Armon. Although you might have moved it along a pinch given that the tower is about to fall on our heads.”
Armon bowed low with Catherine in his arms. “My apologies, Mr. Warvold.”
It couldn’t be. How could Warvold be alive? Ganesh had poisoned him. He was dead. I had been there — I knew he was dead. His notes had led us all the way to where we now stood. Could it be that he had been here waiting for us all along, somehow alive all this time?
“It can’t
be,” I said.
“How is she?” said Warvold, ignoring my quiet plea, staring at Catherine. He touched her softly, probably for the first time in years.
“She’ll be fine,” said Armon, and he threw Warvold over his shoulder and ran out of the room as fast as he could. I ran behind and caught Warvold’s eye in the dancing light, watched his white hair springing up and down over his face as he bounced through the room. He winked at me and smiled his beautiful smile, still the same. He even seemed younger than I’d remembered him. And in that moment I knew his voice like I hadn’t known it before. I always knew he loved me, that there was something special about our relationship, but until I heard the words I didn’t realize what I’d done.
“I knew you could do this, Alexa! You’ve turned the tide in our favor!”
As the walls came tumbling down, we ran from the dungeon, outrunning death, Catherine and Thomas Warvold with us once again. We emerged from the tower and swam through the pool, and then we kept on running along the wall toward the lake. When we were just to the edge of the lake, we stopped at the thundering sound of the tower falling, falling in a great heap on the earth. The sound was deafening, like waves crashing against the rocks in a storm. The time it took for the tower to fall seemed like forever, as if it were crawling to oblivion. It tipped to the left of us and then the bottom buckled out and the whole thing came tumbling straight down. As the dust began to clear we could see that the stairs leading up to the tower entrance remained, broken at the edge with a pile of rubble beneath them. And then the men and women of Castalia began to climb the stairs. In the dim light of morning we could see them, rising from the ground and walking up the stairs, waving hands and cheering as they went.
A new day was dawning for Castalia.
Armon set Warvold down and held Catherine out to him. She was awake now, the fresh air and the sound from the crash of the Dark Tower bringing her back to life. With my help she stood, and Warvold embraced her.
I looked across the lake and saw morning coming, and a dot on the horizon — Grindall and his ogres escaping into the Dark Hills.
Beyond the Valley of Thorns Page 14