Into The Mist (Land of Elyon) (24 page)

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trail of Madame Vickers's cart snake its way toward Ainsworth.

"She's gone," said Thomas. "She's really gone."

A cheer rose up around the House on the Hill, and we looked back to find Armon's hand open, all the brightly colored candies being taken by smaller hands and popped into eager mouths.

Soon our group was on its way, walking toward Mount Laythen ... and a future in which my days of wandering the wide world with my brother were about to come to an end.

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CHAPTER 26

A Fork in the Wood

I'll never forget the day of our arrival with the eleven children from the House on the Hill. They were older than the children from Castalia by four or five years each, and every one of the boys and girls from the House on the Hill took at once to playing big brother or big sister to the younger children on the terrace. It was a day of watching them explore the wonders of Sir Alistair Wakefield's home, with me and Thomas remembering what it was like when we'd first arrived there. The group of fourteen was always together after that - no matter when I saw them -- and it seemed to me that they had been marked for one another from the start.

"It's time I was on my way."

These words were spoken by Armon the very next day, and it was the beginning of a series of good-byes that would last until my heart was nearly torn into pieces. When he'd left the first time, I'd had this wonderful feeling that I would see him again. That sort of feeling has joy in it, because longing for something tells your heart that it will one day

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come to pass, either in this life or the next. But when Armon said those words -- It's time I was on my way -- there was a finality in them that broke something deep inside me. And I think there was something else -- something even deeper -- as if I'd only just begun to feel a new and terrible emotion in the wake of Armon's leaving.

I remember embracing him and having my feet leave the wooden floor of the terrace as he lifted me into the air. I could get my arms around his neck just enough to lock my hands together, and I did this, hoping he would never make me let go. I remember sobbing in such a sad way that my body shook against his chest and I wouldn't look at him or anyone else. I loved Armon then for a special reason only a brother can know. I knew what was soon to come -- I could feel it in my bones -- and this moment with Armon let me pour out all my loss and fear at once, to release it into his care, to let it go and move on.

Not long after he was gone -- maybe a day or two or three -- Alistair pulled me aside and we walked along the blue water of the lake together. Thomas was busy at building things once more, and already he was in the habit of spending entire days in the model room.

"There are times in a young man's life when two paths appear before him," said Alistair. His

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hands were locked behind his back as he walked, and there was a melancholy smile on his face. "That time has come for you, Roland, and it must be faced."

There were tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought them back and looked off toward the lake. Alistair stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. He wouldn't go on until I looked him in the eye.

"I have a deep feeling of a coming catastrophe," he said. "Grindall's war machine grows more frightening, or so Armon says. A man such as Grindall won't stay put forever."

He looked down at his feet, then back at me. "Neither of you can stay here as the world around you grows darker. You must each play your part as we come to a fork in the path."

We walked on quietly, and somewhere along the edge of the blue lake Alistair whispered, "Path leads to path."

In everything he'd said before, there had been a glimmer of hope that I might yet find my way back to the people and life I'd known, but in those four words my sadness deepened. Path leads to path. It suddenly seemed possible that the whole of my coming adventure would be had on paths of water, while Thomas's would be made entirely of land.

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"It's time I grew old, don't you think?" said Alistair.

"You are old," I said, and this made him laugh a little.

"I think you know what I mean," he said. "Where will you go?"

"I was hoping I could go along with you -- to the Five Stone Pillars -- and I could spend the rest of my days as a grandfather of lost children."

I thought this sounded like a very good idea.

"Besides," he continued, "you'll need to know how to bring the Warwick Beacon in close to the Five Stone Pillars. It's ... complicated."

I didn't ask then what he meant, but I thought a great deal in the days that followed about what sort of challenges awaited me at the bottom of the black stone columns that rose from the Lonely Sea.

"We leave tomorrow morning," Alistair said as we turned and headed back in the direction of the terrace. "Best we finish packing and say a difficult good-bye."

I busied myself with preparations, doling out responsibilities to the boys and girls who would soon be leaving the home of Sir Alistair Wakefield. There was electricity in the air as we talked of the journey ahead and the place we were going. The looks on the faces of the fourteen boys and girls made me very happy for them. I knew how they

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felt, at the start of some grand adventure, and a part of me longed to be on our way. I didn't see Thomas at all as he busied himself in the model room. I think we were both afraid of what might happen if we encountered each other so close and yet so far from my departure. We were not sentimental with each other, and the thought of it confused us both. It seemed best to go about our business until the very end.

Late that night I went to our room and found it empty. I sat on my bed and looked across the room we'd shared, and then I lay down facing the wall. I was just nodding off to sleep when Thomas crept in quietly and got into his bed.

"Good night, Roland," he said softly.

"Good night," I replied.

And that was all we could think to say before drifting off to sleep.

There was a lot of activity the next morning as we readied the group and the supplies for what would be a special two-day trip with small children to the Warwick Beacon. I kept trying to find a moment of peace in which to pull Thomas aside, but each time our eyes met from across the terrace it seemed that either he or I was being pulled in some direction. Maybe we were happy of the distractions - able to put off the inevitable good-bye for just a little

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longer -- but there was a part of me that began to regret not having spent more time talking with my brother in the days leading up to our parting.

There came a time when all was prepared and everyone was ready to leave, and it felt to me as if the moment arrived suddenly and without warning. Everyone lined up and took their turn saying good-bye to Thomas. When it came down to only me and Alistair remaining, Alistair seized the moment and went straight up to Thomas, hugging him as a father might do when he knows he'll be gone a long time. There were words between them, but they were secret words that were not meant for my ears. I heard only what Alistair said at the very end, and it seemed as though it was said for my benefit as well as Thomas's:

"Don't stay on here too long."

When Alistair turned to go, there was a determination in him, as though he knew it would take all the strength he could imagine in himself to actually leave this place.

"Come along then," he said, waving everyone down the stairs, each with some small or large supply to carry. "Let's give two brothers a moment of peace."

I have a memory of being in the Ainsworth orphanage as a small boy and playing out in the dirt in the courtyard with all the other children.

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And there was this one time when I was digging a hole, and I could hear the bell go off and the sounds of children yelling and playing as they filed through the big door that led inside. I remember looking up and hearing the silence of the moment. Only a second ago there had been a clamor of noise and activity, and then there was nothing, only me and the haunting stillness. It felt that way now. There had been so much separating my brother and me -- all the bodies and sounds and tasks -- and suddenly there was nothing between us but a lingering stillness.

"I don't know if I can do this," I said. And I really didn't know. Thomas had always been there. It had been his strength that carried me beyond the House on the Hill, through the Lake of Fire, out of the Wakefield House - and so much more. I didn't know if I could navigate the Lonely Sea without him. More important, I didn't want to.

"Take this with you," said Thomas, coming toward me. He was holding out his book of paintings.

"I can't take that from you," I protested, finally unable to contain my emotion. "Your whole life is in that book."

"Our lives are in there," he corrected. "We're always together if we can look at our past. But we can't live in our past, Roland. We have to go on."

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"But if I take the book, you won't have it," I said. And then finally I told him what was truly in my heart. "You won't remember me."

Thomas smiled the way he always did when he'd pulled one over on someone. It was never a smile that said, You see there! I got you! -- but a smile that told how much he liked you, how much he enjoyed being with you. He reached behind his back and into a pocket, and pulled out a second book that looked about the same size as the one in his other hand.

"You don't always have to make models in the model room," he said. "It's a good place to paint as well."

He handed me his original book, and I began to flip through its worn pages. He followed along, turning as I did, and I saw that he'd painted the book all over again. Though the new paintings were a little less smudged or torn, it was hard to tell the pictures apart.

"You did this for me?" I asked.

"I did it for us, so we would always remember. I don't want you forgetting me, either."

There was no embarrassment or awkwardness then, only brotherly love as we embraced on Sir Alistair Wakefield's terrace.

"How long will you stay here?" I asked as we stood apart again.

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"Not very long, I don't think," Thomas answered. "I want to go back to Ainsworth, to the old orphanage. Something tells me I should make an appearance there, throw my knapsack over my shoulder, and wander out of town. I want to go see Thorn and take a look around the woods and the mountains. I have a feeling I'll be building something near there someday."

It all sounded very adventurous to me. And dusty. And unlike anything I really had much interest in doing.

"I believe I'll be on my way," I said. Then, looking at the book he'd given me, I added, "I won't forget you."

"I won't forget you, either."

Thomas stayed and watched me go down the stairway of stumps. When I looked back, he was standing on the terrace waving and pointing to the book in his hand, as if to remind me of what we'd said to each other.

I walked on a little farther, and when I looked back once more, he was gone.

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CHAPTER 27

THE SEA MONSTER

Deep night had come to the Lonely Sea during the telling of Roland's tale. My emotions were frayed like a sail that had been battered by a driving wind, and I was tired and sore from sitting so long on the wooden deck. Yipes seemed to feel none of my discomforts as he began the expected inquisition into the details of the story he'd just been told.

"I was willing to wait until the very end," he said with a teasing dignity, "but now you must tell us about this place -- the Five Stone Pillars -- and what became of Sir Alistair Wakefield and all the lost children. Surely you can tell us that much!"

There was real panic in his voice now, as if he feared being denied the knowledge he'd so patiently waited for. I rose to my feet and stretched loudly, knowing full well that the very best result Yipes could hope for would be an answer that would come after a torturously long pause from Roland at the wheel.

"Trust me this once," said Roland, and I knew something difficult was coming. "You'll need your rest come morning. Let's all lie here together, with the blankets

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around us and the few pillows we have, and get a few hours of sleep. Then I'll be happy to tell you about the Five Stone Pillars."

Yipes protested vigorously at first, and even I complained of wanting more, but looking at Roland in the little light from the candles, I saw that he was utterly exhausted. He lay down on the deck, and we huddled together with the blankets and the pillows, listening to Yipes whine quietly. Soon his protests became a whimper, and then a heavy breathing, and finally a soft snoring in the open air. Then I too fell fast asleep.

When morning came, I turned and saw that Roland was not among the blankets. I roused Yipes with some effort and we scrambled to our feet, sore from sleeping on the hard deck of the boat but anxious to find the captain. He stood off to one side, away from the wheel, gazing out onto the open sea with the spyglass. Approaching him, Yipes hopped up onto the narrow ledge of the rail, and I came alongside. We both stared in the direction Roland was looking, where the early morning sun was beginning to rise up.

"There," Roland said, and for a moment I had a spooky feeling he himself was Sir Alistair Wakefield, come to us from the past to show us which way to go. Roland had his finger pointing across the bow, toward the rising sun.

"Can I please have my spyglass back?" I asked Roland,