The 10th Kingdom

by Kathryn Wesley

  From where he stood, he couldn’t even see the pile of junk clearly. He had no chance of searching for that mirror.

  “Pay attention,” the Governor said. “Everything in here has to be cleared out. Form a human chain and chuck everything into that boat.”

  The warders spread the convicts out to the limits of their chains—about four feet apart from each other. There was no one on the other side of Tony. He looked at the boat. There was at least twelve feet between him and the boat itself.

  “Uh, excuse me?” Tony said.

  “What?” the Governor asked.

  “Well, it’s quite a long way,” Tony said, pointing to the boat. “Won’t we break some of the more delicate objects?”

  “What do you think this is, Lewis?” the Governor demanded. “An elves’ underwear party? This is scrap. Now do as you’re told and shut up.”

  The convicts picked objects up and threw them along the human chain. It took a moment for the first item—51 box made of wood and full of splinters—to reach Tony at the end. He tossed it to the boat. The box smashed on impact. So did the china that followed, and then the carriage wheel.

  Tony tried not to look at the mess by the boat. Instead, he kept watching for the mirror. He’d go through it, dragging the convicts with him, if he had to.

  A bowl fell to the ground halfway up the chain. He winced at the sound.

  He’d go through the mirror with everyone attached, only if the mirror made it all the way to him. In one piece.

  Blabberwort stood near a huge, menacing dog. She yanked on its collar just to hear it whimper. It did, and she grinned. Her father didn’t even notice.

  He seemed distressed to be in front of the prison again. She didn’t like it either and neither, it seemed, did her brothers. Nor did the contingent of Trolls who accompanied them, most of whom had spent time in this prison at one point or another.

  Her father was pacing up and down and down and up, which was always a bad sign.

  “I’m not questioning your judgment, Dad, but what are we doing hanging around the prison?” Bluebell might not have been questioning their father’s judgment, but Bluebell’s was clearly lacking. No one spoke to their father when he was in this kind of mood. “We’ve only just got out.”

  Blabberwort cringed, expecting an outburst, but all her father said was, “Shut up.”

  She frowned. He wasn’t paying attention to anything except his own pacing and the little bits of flour he was dropping as he moved. The flour was turning the grass white, like the first snowfall of the season.

  He moved to the front of the prison gate, sprinkling flour as he walked.

  “Why did the witch steal the shoes?” her father said suddenly. “Obvious. To get back into the prison.”

  To rescue someone! Blabberwort was beginning to understand what her father was thinking. There were only a few ways to catch someone in magic shoes.

  “Flour,” Blabberwort said. “Brilliant idea, Dad.”

  Her father ignored her praise, but he did stop pacing. ‘ ‘Burly, patrol clockwise around the prison. Bluebell, go the other way to clockwise around the prison. Blabberwort, wait with me in the bushes over here and check the flour every fifteen minutes for invisible footsteps.”

  She nodded. And even though her father hadn’t given the last instruction, she knew what it would be. If she saw footprints, she would go get him.

  She never wanted to face the witch alone again.

  The morning sunlight was cooler than Virginia expected. She had a vague headache, as if she had been drinking. And she really wanted to put on those shoes. Hair of the dog, as some of her customers would say.

  Or hair of the wolf.

  She frowned, not liking that thought.

  She was beside Wolf in a grove of trees, not far from the river. Ahead she could see the giant dogs that accompanied the Trolls and the Trolls themselves pacing. Wolf assured her that they couldn’t see, hear, or smell them from this angle, and since he seemed to have a relatively strong animal component himself, she believed him.

  She was believing him more and more these days.

  “Do you think Dad will be okay?” Virginia asked. “I’m worried sick about him. But he can look after himself, can’t he? He can stay out of trouble for one day?”

  “From what I know of your father,” Wolf said, “I very much doubt it.”

  Then he focused on the Trolls. He held a hand against her shoulder, keeping her back. The prison loomed above them, dark and menacing. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering entering it again.

  “AO right,” Wolf said. “You wait here. I’ll put the magic shoes on and go back inside and pre—”

  “No way,” Virginia said. “You’ll never come back. You just want them for your own.”

  “I don’t,” Wolf said.

  “You do,” Virginia said.

  Wolf frowned. “All right, I do. But I’m fighting it, unlike you.”

  She reached for the shoes and managed to grab them. But Wolf hung on to them too.

  He licked his lips. “I’ll wear the shoes, and you hold on to me. As long as you’re touching me, we’ll both be invisible.”

  “No,” Virginia said. “I’ll wear them, and you can hold on to me.”

  “You are hopelessly addicted to those shoes,” Wolf said. “And I’m not far off.”

  . She yanked the shoes away from him and put them on. He grabbed her, and as he did, she watched them both disappear.

  Tony felt as if he’d lifted all the junk in every junk shop east of the Mississippi. He looked toward the pile. It was mostly gone.

  No mirror. He took a shallow breath. It had to be there somewhere.

  Just as he had that thought, the man at the far end picked up the mirror. Tony watched as it made its way from person to person, nearly falling a few times, but somehow making it to him unscathed.

  He clutched it to his chest like a long-lost child, then held it up, and whispered, “Mirror on! Mirror on!”

  A warder looked at him as if he were mad.

  “Mirror on! Mirror on!”

  Tony looked at the mirror. The frame was right. The silvering was right. Only he couldn’t see any vision of Central Park in it. All he could see was his own bruised face and his brand-new front teeth.

  “Lewis!” the Governor shouted. “What in the fairying forest do you think you’re doing?”

  Tony held onto the mirror, touching the frame, the glass, every part of it he could, to find a way to turn it on.

  “It’s not working ...” he mumbled.

  “Lewis, you little prison princess, throw that mirror on the boat. Now!”

  “I can’t, sir,” Tony said. “I’m frightened it’ll get broken.” The Governor walked slowly toward Tony. “As you have refused to obey me,” the Governor said, his voice cold and intense, “I am going to push you into the river. And as you are connected by leg irons to all your comrades, they will also, sadly, drown.”

  The other convicts looked at him murderously. They’d drown with him, but they’d beat the crap out of him as they did so. What an awful way to go.

  The Governor got nearer and nearer to Tony. If he threw the mirror, it would definitely break.

  “All right,” Tony said. “I’ll do it.”

  He looked at the pile of smashed junk in the boat. His entire future would be gone in one swing. Gone. Still, he tried to throw the mirror, but his hands wouldn’t release it. He bit his lower lip and tried again.

  The Governor watched him, eyes cold.

  Tony was breathing shallowly. He measured the gap between the boat and his arms, wondered how hard he could throw the mirror without breaking it, and then decided he had no choice. He had to go for it.

  He gave it an almighty heave and closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of broken glass. He held his breath and then, just as he expected, something shattered in the boat.

  He turned toward it and opened his eyes, expecting to see the mirror shattered forever. W
ould that give him seven years of bad luck in this place? What kind of luck could be worse than the kind he was having, anyway?

  But the mirror was fine. The pot it had landed on was hopelessly broken, however. Tony felt like jumping up and down and applauding.

  Then the Governor spoke. “Thank you, Lewis. As for punishment for your disobedience, you are confined to your cell for the next seven—yes, you heard me—seven years.”

  Tony closed his eyes again. Had the man read his mind? Or was that the going rate for throwing mirrors these days?

  The warders grabbed him, unhooked him from the chain gang, and led him back to his cell. He couldn’t leave the mirror. It was his only chance. He struggled, but the warders held him tightly. One of them pressed on the wounds on his back and Tony had to bite back a scream. His throat was already raw from all the screaming he had done last night.

  Finally, they got to his cell. They tossed him in it and slammed the door shut behind him. Seven years. The mirror would be long gone by then.

  He walked to his bunk, feeling more dejected than he had ever felt in his life. It took him a moment to realize that Acorn and Clay Face were covered in dust and staring at him.

  “What?” Tony asked Acorn. “What have I done now?”

  “Curses,” Acorn said.

  “Now we’ll have to kill him,” Clay Face said.

  Tony stared at them and gasped. The picture of Prince

  Wendell was on hinges, and now it was folded back to reveal a gaping hole in the wall.

  “A tunnel?” Tony asked.

  They grabbed him and Acorn covered his mouth with a dirty hand. “Shhhhhh.”

  “We’ve been burrowing for thirty-one years,” Clay Face said.

  Tony wriggled his mouth free. “Take me with you. You can trust me. I’ve got Escape from Alcatraz on video and I feel I have a genuine expertise in this area.”

  Acorn stared at him for a moment, then said, “Best to suffocate him, I think.”

  “No,” Clay Face said. “I trust him.”

  Clay Face reached into his pocket and removed something. He studied it, then handed it to Tony. It was the little soap statue he’d carved earlier. Tony clutched it without really looking at it.

  “Thanks,” Tony said. “I’d give you my watch but that’s gone already.”

  Clay Face shrugged, then clapped a meaty hand on Tony’s back and shoved him forward.

  The tunnel was dark and menacing. But it was the only way to the boat, the mirror, and freedom.

  Tony crawled inside, praying there was an opening at the other end.

  Getting into the prison was too easy. All they did was knock on the door, a warder opened it, and then they walked inside. Virginia loved being invisible. She even loved holding on to Wolf as they walked together through the prison corridor.

  “Follow those two warders,” Wolf said. “The key holder’s room is straight ahead and down the corridor.”

  They followed the warders, who were unlocking doors as they walked. It took Virginia’s magic-fuzzed mind a moment to realize what they were doing. They were going deeper and deeper into the security parts of the prison.

  Finally, the warders reached the key holder’s room. A warder was inside, leaning back on his chair, reading a book. The cell keys were on a hook on the wall behind him and beside him was a blackboard with the list of prisoners in their cells. Virginia noticed, rather absently, that there was no mention of the dangerous mice.

  Wolf had his arm around her and had pulled her close. She didn’t really mind. She thought maybe she should mind, but she didn’t. Really. She had her arm around him too. She’d been thinking about his tail and how soft it was and—no way would that help her dad.

  She shook her head a little and led Wolf to the blackboard. Together they found her father’s name and his cell number and Wolf lifted the appropriate key.

  Just as they started to leave, Virginia glanced into the office next to the key holder’s room. Prince was in there, tied to a desk leg. There were a dozen plates of food in front of him.

  A bald-headed man who looked quite fierce sat at the desk. He was eating and seemed very intent on his food.

  “It’sPrince,” Virginia whispered to Wolf. “Let’s get him.”

  “We can’t,” Wolf said. “These shoes won’t take an extra person. We’ll drain all the power and become visible.”

  Virginia shook her head, and then realized that Wolf couldn’t see her. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not leaving without him.”

  At that, Prince’s ears went up. He barked. Once. Their signal.

  “You can shut up,” the man said to Prince. “There must be something you like down there.”

  Virginia untied the rope from the desk leg. The man above her didn’t even seem to notice. She put her hand on Prince’s head, and in her ear, Wolf moaned his disgust.

  “If you can understand me, Prince,” Virginia said. “Take us to where Dad is.”

  Prince slowly vanished, and then started down the corridor, Virginia’s hand clinging to the scruff of his neck. Wolf was hanging onto Virginia’s waist, and she felt like the fluffy white stuff in the middle of an Oreo cookie. The image made her want to giggle, which would ruin the effect of all of this.

  Why did the shoes make her want to laugh? She had to think clearly. They were on the way to rescuing her father.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wolf clung to Virginia and every moment was sweet agony. Her scent up close, her body so soft, her—he couldn’t think that way, not here. Not in the prison. But the shoes were affecting his judgment as well, even though he wasn’t wearing them.

  They had stopped in front of Virginia’s father’s cell. Wolf read the little inscription up top while Virginia struggled with the lock. Apparently, he was rooming with two charmers: Acorn the Dwarf and Clay Face the Goblin. Both of them had been in the prison longer than Wolf had been alive.

  He could hear the Prince’s breathing, heavy and doggy. That creature smelled terrible, and he wished Virginia would leave it behind. But she seemed to have a soft spot for him, however much trouble that would cause Wolf. He kept his hand on the small of her back as she finally got the key to work.

  She pulled the door open and stepped inside. Then she stopped so abruptly that Wolf walked into her.

  The cell was empty.

  “Where’s he gone?” Virginia asked.

  Virginia’s dark hair was tantalizing. Then Wolf blinked. He could see her, and the dog, standing with its tail between its legs. The shoes had stopped working.

  “Oh, no,” Wolf said. “They’re exhausted. I told you this would happen.”

  He felt woozy. He put a hand to his head. Virginia was

  doing the same thing. Even the dog staggered a little as the effects of the shoes wore off.

  Prince looked up at the wall and barked. The sound reverberated in Wolf’s head and made him want to howl. Oh, he would have a headache when this was over.

  “Look,” Virginia said and pointed in the direction that Prince was looking.

  A picture of Prince Wendell in his human form—which was not, in Wolf’s opinion, an improvement—was hanging at an odd angle, revealing a hole beyond. Wolf walked over to it, deliberately put his hand on the Prince’s face, and shoved the picture aside.

  “Boy,” he said, “your father is a fast worker. I’ll give him that.”

  Then an alarm bell went off, adding to the aggravation in Wolf’s mind. He put a hand over his ears as, in the corridor, shouting started.

  “Prison break! Break out! Prisoners escaped!”

  “Any ideas?” Wolf asked Virginia.

  “Into the tunnel,” Virginia said.

  There were footsteps running in their direction. Virginia pulled the cell door shut. Wolf went for the shoes, but Virginia reached them first. Wolf growled softly and leapt into the tunnel. Virginia and Prince followed him, but stopped long enough to try to put the picture of Prince Wendell back in its place.

&nbs
p; “Come on,” Wolf whispered.

  They did. He hurried through the tunnel. The ground was already packed down as if a couple of people had been through it. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, and the deeper they went, the darker it got.

  Prince could hear his own breathing, and that of the others, and it made him wonder about the air. He’d heard that tunnels sometimes lacked oxygen. He didn’t know where he’d learned that, but somewhere, and it made his heart beat a little faster.

  Then it got slightly lighter, as if sunlight were coming through a crack in a door. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing.

  “There’s something fat blocking the tunnel,” Wolf said. He sniffed. There was something over the scent of dirt. A faintly unwashed odor that was somehow familiar. “Tony, is that you?”

  “Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

  “It’s me. Wolf. I gave you the magic dragon dung bean, remember?”

  “Stay away from me,” Tony said.

  “How can I do that?” Wolf asked. “We’re in a tunnel together.”

  The alarm bell seemed to be louder than ever. Behind him, Wolf could feel Virginia and the dog.

  “I’m almost out, but I’m stuck,” Tony said. “Give me a push.”

  Wolf considered for a moment before putting his hands on Tony’s buttocks and pushing as hard as he could. It didn’t work. So Wolf leaned into Tony’s back end and, bracing with his feet, used his entire body to shove.

  Tony slid through the opening like a fish through a novice fisherman’s hands. Wolf didn’t catch himself in time, and followed Tony out the hole. Dust and bricks fell around him, and he landed beside Tony on the hard ground.

  Virginia and the dog followed a moment later. Tony grinned when he saw his daughter, then sat up and hugged her.

  It was a tender moment. Wolf watched with something like pride.

  “You’re alive!” Tony said, laughing. “You’re alive.”

  “Dad!” Virginia seemed as happy to see her father as he was to see her. They hugged for what Wolf considered to be a moment too long. He glanced at Prince, who was staring at the river. The dog didn’t ever seem to pay attention to the right things.