Helix and the Arrival (5 page)

And then I remember. We were meant to find a sacred rock, a rock from the beginning of time when the mountain was first formed. These rocks are perfectly smooth and round and are hard to get because most of them are in the river, and no one from the mountain would ever dare set foot in there. Speel says that the river is swallowing up the mountain's sacred rocks, one by one, drawing these precious objects into its dark, bottomless depths. All the more reason not to go looking for sacred rocks, I say!

‘Where did you find this fine rock, Ug?' asks Speel.

‘Deep in the low woods. Close to the river,' says Ug.

Speel nods at Ug in approval. ‘Helix?' He turns to me with a closed-lip smirk. ‘Let's see if your sacred rock can rival your friend's.'

‘My s-s-sacred r-r-rock?' I stutter.

‘Surely you haven't forgotten your homework,' says Speel. He sits back down, settling deeply into his pile of skins and practising his beady-eyed smirk once more.

‘No, of course not. Well, you see, the thing is that I
did
find a sacred rock, but it was lodged tight in a crevice and I wasn't able to remove it. It's very special – glorious, in fact – and of a wonderful colour. I hope to be able to dislodge it soon so that I can impress you with its gloriousness.' There. That'll convince him.

Speel stares at me for a moment with his small brown eye. ‘As you are aware, the task I gave you was not to find a sacred rock stuck in a crevice and report back to me of its existence, but to bring me an example of such a relic. Where, might I ask, is this most glorious of sacred rocks?'

‘W-w-where?'

‘Yes. What is its exact location?'

Think, Helix, think! I can't say it's anywhere in the woods – Speel knows I'm too scared to venture down the mountain on my own. Perhaps
…

‘The location of this rock is near Newstone,' I say, knowing that Speel hates Newstone and never goes there.

‘And what were you doing near Newstone, may I ask?'

‘I was hunting with my father … for geckoes. Yes, we were hunting for geckoes on the rock ledges.'

Speel considers my story. He breaks his silence by saying, ‘You will return to Newstone and collect your sacred rock. While you are there, you will pick up a fresh supply of writing skins for me.'

Great. My imaginary sacred rock has turned me into Speel's personal slave.

‘You can go tomorrow,' he says, with that same close-lipped smirk and mean look from his lonely eye.

The rest of Speel's Learning is full of stories I've heard plenty of times before. At one point, he has a stonehack bring him a sacred tablet from the back of his cave. He reads from it something about river people rising from the mud. When he's finished, he places the tablet flat beside him. I try to read it from my side of the fire. It's not very big and doesn't contain many word signs – certainly not enough to fill the story that Speel has just told.

Speel sees me looking at the tablet and places his hand down over it. For a moment our three eyes lock and we are having our own private conversation.

Helix: Why can't I look at it?

Speel: I don't have to give you a reason.

Helix: That was a very long description of how terrible river people are, but I can only see a small number of word signs on the tablet …

Speel: I am the Storykeeper. Whatever I say is the truth.

Helix: That's your answer for everything, isn't it?

Speel: La, la, la … Not listening …

Speel clears his throat. ‘That will be all for today,' he says. ‘You are both dismissed.'

We leave the stifling warmth of his cave and return to the sunshine and fresh air of the mountain. We've barely taken a step, though, before Saleeka ambushes us.

‘What did he say? What was your Learning about?'

‘Believe me,' I say, ‘it was not that interesting. Nothing you probably don't already know. Apparently,
though, I found a sacred rock near Newstone. Fancy a trip there tomorrow?'

‘Newstone? I'm not going there. My father has been talking about Newstone, me, marriage and some guy named Nobak all in the same sentence.'

‘Isn't he the guy who shaves his back hair?' I ask.

‘That's him. Mister Bald Back. Shaves it every third day with a flint blade, apparently.'

‘What a bonehead.' I turn to Ug. ‘How about you?'

‘Me? I do not shave my back.'

‘I know you don't shave your back – you're hairier than a bison. I mean, do you want to come with me to Newstone tomorrow?'

‘Tomorrow? I cannot. My father wants me to hunt with him.'

‘Can you get out of it?' I say.

‘No. He is going deep into the woods and might need help carrying his catch home. It could be huge.' Ug's eyes light up at the thought of capturing something massive.

Looks like it's just me and my imaginary sacred rock.

Newstone is a mostly downhill walk along the Common Way. By leaving in the morning, I'll arrive well before the middle part of the day.

It's only in the past few years that mountain folk have begun to settle in Newstone. Those not in favour of Newstone, which is almost everyone in Rockfall, say it's a dangerous place to live because you can't keep an eye on the river people, like we can from Rockfall. But the caves are bigger – huge, in fact – and drier. There's plenty of fresh water nearby and, because it's a newer settlement, there are more beasts to hunt in the nearby woods.

Mum has wrapped some dried meat in a skin and tied it securely with a long strap leaf. She's also given me a bladder full of water. Most mothers would be expecting their sons to take a detour off into the woods,
spear a creature for lunch and bring back something extra for dinner, but my mum says, ‘Make sure you don't wander off the Common Way!' She knows that if I step foot into the woods, I'm more likely to become food than to find food.

Dad appears. ‘Yes, son. Stick to the path. The woods below are full of large beasts.'

‘None of which has been caught by you!' says Mum to Dad.

‘That's not true,' says Dad. ‘Remember that poison-toothed tusk boar I brought back for my Arrival?'

‘That was
half
a tusk boar – the rest had been eaten by something bigger. And, anyway, Ugthorn told you where to find it.'

‘It was still in the woods,' says Dad, defending himself.

‘The high woods, it was,' says Mum. ‘And you sprinted in and sprinted out. Remember? Everyone in Rockfall saw you!'

‘Now that's an exaggeration!'

If I wait for them to finish I won't get back to Rockfall by dark. ‘See you later,' I say, waving to them as I leave our cave.

The first part of my journey takes me between boulders that are almost big enough to be mountains. I feel hemmed in by the giant walls of stone on either side of me.

As the boulders become smaller and the path opens up, a clear view of the woods leading down to the river and the lowlands reveals itself. The river is sparkling blue. It curves one way and then the other, like an
endless swollen serpent. Beyond it, I spot tiny moving figures. They are the river people going about their daily lives. Some are beside the river, though they are too far away for me to see exactly what they are doing. Others are closer to their homes – strange homes that are round and made of dried mud and tree branches.

Mountain folk, who all live in caves, think these roundhouses are ridiculous. Why would anyone choose to surround themselves with a mud wall and a roof of twigs? In the eyes of mountain folk, they are the homes of those who wished they lived in caves.

I think of everything I've been taught about the river people. All of my knowledge has come from the sacred tablets Speel keeps. The river people:

There are lots of other writings on the river people. These are just some of the common ones that are told and retold.

I turn my attention away from the river people and continue to walk. Ahead, the Common Way bends back
towards the mountain, hiding whatever lies ahead of me. There've been no other travellers on the path this morning, so as I approach the blind corner I don't think to slow down. I'm walking with my head low and my mind quiet when all of a sudden I'm flattened by a mass of bristly muscle.

My back hits the ground hard and I find myself looking up at a pink snout and a pair of small fluttering eyes. I'm having trouble breathing – all of the beast's weight is on my chest. I can see its teeth, its two big pointy teeth that jut out of its bottom jaw. A poison-toothed tusk boar! I'm about to be killed by a poison-toothed tusk boar! Its warm breath forms a blanket over my face and smells worse than Sherwin's feet. Its mouth opens … The end is coming …

But instead of plunging its teeth into my throat, it licks my face from chin to forehead.

What?

‘Get off me!' I yell.

‘Young Helix, is that you?' says a smiling man with curly orange hair and a beard tied neatly into a bunch below his chin.

It's Steckman. Slung over his shoulder is a large sack and hanging from different parts of his body are at least ten smaller ones, full of goods to trade. On the mountain, Steckman is known as a cave-to-cave salesman, trading his goods to anyone who wants them. He doesn't belong to any one clan and is seen as an outsider by mountain folk, though they are happy enough to buy a sacred rock or panthera skin from him when they're in the mood.

‘Yes, it's me,' I say, trying to find enough air to talk.

‘Porgo. Porgo!
Porgo!
Get off him!' Steckman puts a rope vine around the creature's belly and drags it off me. It takes all of Steckman's weight and quite a bit of groaning, but eventually the beast moves away and sits down with its back against a rock.

‘Poison. Toothed. Tusk. Boar,' I pant, scrabbling to my feet and pointing at the creature slumped against the rock.

Steckman laughs. ‘Have you ever seen a poison-toothed tusk boar? Five times the size of this girl and much more interested in eating you than licking you.
No, Porgo is a swamp boar. I'm taming her so that she can be sold as a pet.'

‘A pet?' I say. ‘Wha–'

‘Sorry, forgot who I was talking to. You mountain folk are behind the times, you know. Pets are becoming very popular in the lowlands.'

‘What are they for?' I ask.

‘They're … They're animals that aren't for eating.'

‘Do you mean like the lowland oxen kept by the river people?' I ask.

‘Not exactly,' says Steckman. ‘The oxen are working animals. Pets are for companionship.'

I look across at Porgo with her round pink torso, brown spots and bristly hide. Her breathing is made up of a combination of snorts and grunts, and I'm pretty sure I can still smell her putrid breath from here.

‘No offence, but who is going to buy Porgo?'

Steckman tenses up. ‘I'll sell her. I just need to find the right buyer.'

‘You mean the river people?' I say.

‘Maybe. They already have their lowland dogs for pets, but I'm hoping they will accept a swamp boar as well.'

‘Wouldn't they want to eat her instead?' I'm certain that if someone on the mountain spotted her, they would be thinking, ‘Dinner.'

‘Oh no,' laughs Steckman. ‘Have you ever tasted swamp boar?
Plargh!
'

As if she can hear us, Porgo gets to her feet and starts snorting defiantly into the air.

‘See? She's a character, isn't she?' says Steckman.

‘You'd better keep her away from mountain folk,' I say.

‘That's good advice, young Helix. Thank you.'

‘Have you just come from Newstone?' I say.

‘Sure have. They're my best customers on the mountain. Always wanting the latest goods I have to offer. Sold three pairs of mammoth-skin boots this morning. Would have sold twelve pairs had I not run out.'

‘Wow! Mammoth-skin boots! I bet they'd be warm in winter. So where are you off to now?' I ask.

‘Aw, back to Rockfall,' he says.

‘You don't sound very excited about it.'

‘Would you be? I have to put up with that Speel giving me his sly one-eyed look and old Korg the Magnificent, who will make me attend to him in his cave and show him what I've got to offer. And always,
always
, it will end the same way, with Korg saying, “Nothing of any interest to me in that lot,” and I'll have wasted half a day sipping bark tea with him. They're a strange lot, your mob in Rockfall, Helix.'

‘Tell me about it,' I say. ‘At least you don't have to live there.'

Steckman begins gathering his sacks in preparation to go, but I have one last thing I need to ask. ‘Steckman, you know the river people –'

‘Sorry, Helix,' he says, shaking his head. ‘I've been forbidden by Speel to talk of them.'

Porgo has her head on her side, as if she's trying to understand what's being said.

‘But why? You know more about the river people than he does.'

‘Perhaps so. Nevertheless, for now I'd prefer to keep my lips shut. If that meddling Speel finds out I've been talking about the river people, I'll be banished from the mountain. Do you know what that would mean to my business?'

‘Steckman,' I say, ‘it's just you and me. I've seen no one else walk this path all morning.' I peek around the corner to see if anyone is coming. ‘See? No one else is here. Please tell me – just a little about the river people.'

‘You've got to promise that if I tell you something – and I'm not saying that I will – you won't mention a word to anyone back in Rockfall. Not a word.'