Under The Mountain (10 page)

‘Now,’ Mr Jones said, ‘into the car.’

They went down the steps to the garage and climbed in the back seat of Uncle Clarry’s Jaguar.

‘Down on the floor.’

They crouched low and Mr Jones covered them with a blanket. ‘Don’t move until the car stops. I’ll be waiting.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Not far. Rachel, you’re holding your stone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Theo?’

He fumbled it out and held it, grimacing. ‘Yes.’

‘It starts now. Don’t let them go. Not for an instant. All right. Off.’

They heard the garage door rumble open. The car started and moved up the drive. Soon they heard the sound of horns and engines. Light filtered through the blanket. They were in Takapuna.

‘Do you think we’re going over the bridge?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Is your stone hurting?’

‘Yes.’

They did not talk after that. They crouched low on the floor, feeling it vibrate under their knees. The car stopped three times at traffic lights. Uncle Clarry and Aunt Noeline talked softly and once Aunt Noeline reached over the back of her seat and rested her hand on the twins’ heads in turn.

But Theo could bear his stone’s burning no longer. Rachel was holding hers so easily. That was unfair. If they were a team the pain should be equal. Lenart was a red-hot ember, burning through his flesh, charring his bones. He had to have a rest from it. There might be hours to go. Surely, he thought, it would not matter if the stone rested on the floor for a moment or two.

He placed his clenched hand down beside his face and opened his fingers. The stone lay sandwiched between his palm and the carpet on the car floor. He drew his hand away. At once it was cool and he almost cried out with relief.

‘Theo!’

‘What?’

‘My stone. It’s starting to burn. Oh!’ She opened her fingers. Johan fell out and lay on the floor, shining only an inch away from her eyes. ‘Oh, Theo, I’ve done something awful.’

‘Pick it up, quick.’ He grabbed his own. It burned again, more fiercely. ‘It’s my fault. We’ve ruined the spell.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘Yes. He said not to let go. Not for an instant.’

‘But we’re holding them again.’

‘It’s no good. I know. It’s ruined.’ He clenched his hand more tightly, as if by enduring pain he could make up for his fault. But slowly the stone began to lose its heat. And Theo knew its life was going out. Don’t die, he prayed, don’t die.

The car crackled on to a shell road, and stopped.

‘Out, kids,’ Uncle Clarry said.

They threw the blanket off and climbed out on to the road. They were between street lamps, almost in darkness. A grass strip lay on their left alongside a sealed road. Beyond that was an open space that had the appearance of a golf course. On the right was a low concrete wall. The dark expanse of the sea lay beyond.

Mr Jones advanced out of the shadows. He waved the car away.

‘There’s a bench here. Come and sit down.’ He stopped suddenly. ‘What’s the matter, Theo?’

‘I let go my stone.’

Mr Jones stepped back as though he had been struck in the face. He raised his hands. ‘You fool, boy,’ he cried. ‘You fool. You’ve ruined everything.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Fool.’

Rachel jumped forward. ‘Stop calling him that. It was hurting. I let mine go too.’

‘Ruined. All the work of my people.’

He turned his back on the children and bowed his head. For a long time no one spoke. Then Rachel pebbled softly, ‘What shall we do, Theo?’

‘Who cares? Go home, I suppose.’

But Mr Jones’s voice broke in. ‘Come here. Follow me.’

He walked away, his head still bowed, and the twins trailed after him. They came to a seat in the deepest part of the shade between the lamps. Mr Jones sat down and the twins took places on either side.

‘I’m sorry,’ Theo said again.

‘All right, boy. We tried. At least we tried.’

‘Have I really spoiled it?’

‘I think so.’

‘What would have happened?’

‘They’d have crumbled into dust. That’s all.’

‘The worms?’

‘And the Wilberforces.’

‘Can’t we go on? I can hold it now. I thought it was going cold but it seems to have stopped.’

‘It’s lost most of its power.’

‘But not all?’

‘Who knows, Theo? I’ve got no way of telling.’

‘It might still work.’

‘Yes,’ Rachel said. ‘Mine seems to be talking to me. I can feel it pulling.’

‘Where to?’

‘Out there. Out to sea.’

‘And yours, Theo?’

‘No. It’s warm, that’s all. And throbbing a bit. As though it’s hurt.’

Mr Jones was quiet. For a long time he sat without speaking. At last he said, ‘We’ll carry on. We’ll place the stones. It can do no harm.’

‘How do we do it? Where?’

‘They’re released over the father and over his leading son – over the worms. That means over the craters. We have to climb up and throw them in. That locks the whole family in the spell, the worms and the slugs – and then – well, they’re supposed to turn into dust. But now …’

‘Where? Which craters?’

‘The red stone for the father. The blue stone for the son. That’s the way we made them. There’s no other way.’

‘Which craters? Rangitoto?’

‘When you release them each of you cries part of the incantation. It’s simple to learn but it must be said. Rachel has the first part: “Go down, People of the Mud.” And Theo: “We bring you the gift of oblivion.” That’s all.’

‘I go to Rangitoto,’ Rachel said.

‘We go together. Rachel throws her stone first, over the father. And then we go to Mount Eden for the son. Theo does his part there.’

‘But how do we travel?’

‘Ricky’s bringing the boat. He’ll be here at exactly half past nine.’

‘Where are we?’

‘At Narrow Neck. Rangitoto’s straight out there. You can see the light.’

They stared out to sea. Faintly they made out the line of hills on the Coromandel peninsula and the darker shape of Rangitoto in front. A small ship was moving past it showing half a dozen lights. The fixed light beyond was almost at the centre of the shoreline.

‘We make for the southern end. The track goes up from there.’

‘Won’t the Wilberforces be guarding it?’

‘I don’t know, Rachel. If everything goes well they’ll be down with their worms. Now, tell me what you do.’

‘I throw Johan – I throw my stone into the crater.’

‘And what do you say?’

‘Go down, People of the Mud.’

‘All right. Theo?’

‘I throw mine. And I say: “We bring you the gift of oblivion.” Don’t you mean death?’

‘Yes, death. We were more a race of poets than scientists. Now remember it. No more mistakes. And talk to your stone now. See if you can make it a little stronger. Ricky won’t be long.’

Theo concentrated. He saw the blue gleam of the stone through his fingers. It coloured their flesh and made it semi-transparent. He enjoyed its warmth and enjoyed its throbbing. It was wonderful, he thought, that this tiny piece of – whatever it was – should hold the whole life, no, half the life of a race. A race much greater and wiser than man could ever be. But that was a Rachel sort of thought: he put it aside. More to the point – had he ruined the thing? It was warm still, it had its seven-sided shape and its colour. The old man must be wrong. They’d turn those Wilberforces into dust all right.

Rachel was less happy. She stared at the shape of Rangitoto. It was so black, so threatening. A pale light was growing over its southern flank. The moon would soon be up. That did not make it seem any more friendly. She dreaded going there. She was troubled too by the thought that she was going to kill. The Wilberforces were the last of their kind. It was a crime.

‘Mr Jones?’

‘Yes, girl?’

‘Couldn’t we save them? Couldn’t we talk to them?’

‘No.’

‘Isn’t there another way?’

‘No. Quiet now. I can feel something’s wrong.’ He stood up suddenly and stared over the golf course.

The twins stared too. In a moment Theo cried, ‘There’s Ricky.’

On the lighted road down the side of the course the beach buggy was speeding along drawing the trailer and boat. It looked like a toy – tiny and red and cheerful. It vanished behind a grove of trees.

‘Down,’ Mr Jones cried. ‘On to the beach. Quickly.’

‘Why? It’s only Ricky.’

‘Can’t you smell them, boy?’

He pushed them along. And as they came to the boat-ramp they threw a last glance behind. A black car was speeding along the road towards the trees.

Their nostrils were suddenly full of the smell of the Wilberforces.

10

RANGITOTO

Ricky drove the buggy down the ramp and off the ledge at the bottom. It bounced a metre in the air and the boat and trailer bucked like a rodeo horse. He roared down to the water’s edge, made a turn that threw up a sheet of sand, and backed the trailer into the water.

‘They’re following me. Get her off.’

Theo was already at the lock. He threw it open and worked the winch with his free hand. Rachel and Mr Jones hauled on the boat, one on either side. As soon as its stern was in the water Theo released the rope. Ricky shot the buggy forward and the trailer slid out from under the
Sea Lady
, leaving her afloat. He drove up the beach straight at the ramp and made a right-angle turn, blocking the bottom of it with the trailer. Then he started back down the sand.

‘In you get,’ he cried. ‘They’re nearly here.’

Rachel and Theo clambered over the sides while Mr Jones held the boat steady.

‘Point her round,’ Ricky yelled. The old man had her side on to the waves. He managed to turn her a little and Ricky, reaching his side, gave her a heave that brought her sluggishly bow-on.

‘In. Quick.’

The Wilberforces’ car turned into the ramp in a screeching high-speed turn. Its lights glared across the beach into the
Sea Lady
. Mr Jones vanished and appeared in the boat in the same instant. He grabbed Ricky’s shirt and hauled him up.

The Wilberforces’ car slowed a fraction, then surged forward again. It drove straight into the trailer, crushing it into the sand. A shriek of tearing metal filled the night. The lights went out. It seemed the car would stand on its nose and topple over. But it ploughed forward, throwing up a wave of sand, before falling back on four wheels. Its engine roared like a truck’s and it shuddered free from the wreckage of the trailer. Straight at the boat it came, black and deadly, fast as a charging buffalo.

Ricky was on his feet, hauling on the engine-pull. The outboard coughed and failed to start. Again he pulled. The car was only a few metres from the water and the twins saw that the Wilberforces did not mean to stop. They were coming straight in, right to the stern of the boat. Ricky pulled. As the car wheels hit the water the outboard roared into life.

‘Open her up.’

Theo jerked the throttle wide as Ricky leaped past him to the wheel. The boat sat up on its stern. But the car had plunged to within a body’s length of them, sending up a bow-wave that rolled into the boat. It checked her forward surge for a moment. They saw Mr Wilberforce burst the windscreen open with a blow of his fist. He heaved himself through the shattered glass, scrambled along the bonnet, and launched himself head first at the
Sea Lady
’s stern. One of his hands missed its grip but the other came down on an angle of the stern and found a hold. The boat pulled forward sluggishly. But now the car doors were open. The slugs were pouring out. One came after its father through the broken windscreen. They slid into the water with the speed of eels.

Theo had picked up the anchor as a weapon, but found it too heavy to swing one-handed. Mr Jones pushed in front of him.

‘Keep back. It’s you they’re after.’

His hands turned into fire. He slid them under the Wilberforce’s fingers and threw them off. The Wilberforce quacked with pain. At once the boat leaped forward, running like a greyhound out of a box. The slugs kept pace with it for a moment not more than a body’s length away. The twins saw their circular mouths, their parrot beaks, the blunt knobs that served them as eyes. Then slowly they began to fall behind and before long the inky water showed no trace of them.

‘Can we keep ahead?’

‘I think so,’ Ricky said. ‘This thing can do forty.’

‘Make for Rangitoto. Make for the light. We can’t use the track now. We’ll have to go up the hard way.’

The sea was dead calm. The boat sped over it like a skater on ice. Its hull vibrated faintly but only the bow-wave arching out on either side gave the twins a sense of speed.

‘Can you turn off those lights?’ Mr Jones said.

Ricky shook his head. ‘It’s against the law. We can’t hide anyway. Look at the moon.’

Its rim had come over the flank of the island. It was coloured orange-red and the light it threw spread across the strait like the light of a flare. They saw other boats in it – yachts and motor boats cruising back from the gulf, a scow hauled by a launch, a coastal freighter waiting for its pilot – and far behind, but closer than they had expected, the small white foam patch made by the Wilberforces.

‘They’re on the surface. Keeping us in sight,’ Mr Jones said. ‘How far ahead can we get?’

‘Maybe ten minutes. It only takes twenty to get there.’

The moon rose higher. Its lower edge cleared the island and its colour lost its richness. But as they sped on it seemed to fall. It touched the island again and sank into it as the
Sea Lady
came closer to the shore. They passed into blackness again. The sea was black as coal and now Ricky risked turning off the lights.

‘Keep a lookout.’ But he seemed to know exactly where he was going. A pale stretch of beach showed in the shoreline. He headed for it between two lava reefs and cut the motor just as Theo thought they were going to crash. The
Sea Lady
nosed gently on to the sand.

‘Out,’ whispered Mr Jones. ‘Ricky, you get clear. Don’t turn on your lights till you’re well away. It’s ten now. In about an hour you’ll see a red light shine out of the crater. Be back here exactly an hour after that.’

‘Right.’

‘Be careful, Ricky,’ Rachel whispered.

‘You too. Good luck.’ The boat chugged quietly out.

‘Now follow me. We’ve got to get as far as we can before the moon lights up this side of the island.’

They hurried up the beach and into the stunted bush at its edge. The trees grew out of stone. Their trunks twisted and writhed and sometimes turned down towards their roots. Once properly in there, Theo thought, there was little chance of being found – and less of going fast. The crater might be only an hour away but it was going to take a lot of reaching. He stumbled on a rock and fell to his knees. He kept his hand closed tightly on his stone even though he felt skin tear off his knuckles.

‘Now,’ pebbled Mr Jones, ‘I’m going to take control of you for a while. Just relax and walk as fast as you can. You won’t fall and you won’t bump into anything. Close your eyes if you like. I’ll do the seeing for all of us.’

They obeyed – and Rachel did close her eyes. They walked as though they were on a street or beach. Occasionally they felt their sleeves brush against foliage. Occasionally they had to step high or long over a trunk or rock. But always their feet came down on level ground. Mr Jones walked ahead. His movements were those of a young man rather than an old one. Rachel felt the invisible rope that linked them. She closed her eyes again and walked with absolute confidence. Theo enjoyed it less. He felt as if he were in a fast car in heavy traffic – if the driver made a single mistake … And he puzzled about the scientific explanation. How was a thing like this done? Where were the rules?

‘Stop now,’ the voice commanded.

The moon was clear of the slope again and its light shone down the island, over the water, and over the city beyond.

‘Keep low.’

‘How far have we come?’

‘Quiet. I want to listen.’

Faintly then, far away, they heard the quacking of the Wilberforces.

‘They’ve landed.’

‘Yes – they’re working up. Coming fast.’

‘Will they find us?’

‘We’ve come around to one side. They’ll go past us over there.’

‘You mean they’ll get to the top first?’

‘Yes. They don’t tire. They’ll wait for us at the crater. They know they can’t find us in this bush. They’ll try to spot us coming up in the moonlight.’

‘Can’t they smell us the way we smell them?’

‘Not unless they get really close. I’m taking you round to one side. They’ll probably post themselves right round the crater. We’ll find the weakest point and try to slip in there. But now we’ve got to go quietly.’

‘Are you taking control again?’

‘No, Rachel. I’ve got to save my strength. We’ve got a long way to go.’

She glimpsed his face in the moonlight and saw how weary it was – almost shrunken. It was the face of an old, old man – a dying man. He was killing himself to get them up this mountain. But she knew this was as it should be – she felt him give her the thought. If they failed he would have no reason to live any longer, and if they succeeded then his job was done. He would want the only rest he could know.

‘Let’s go on,’ she whispered.

They climbed again, carefully, keeping low, keeping in the shade. Once Mr Jones made them stop and huddle on the ground, shielding the glow of their stones, while a Wilberforce went by only ten metres away. It crashed through the undergrowth like a wild boar, and made a sticky hissing sound as its body moved on the rocks. Its smell came strongly as though down a funnel. Further on it stopped and sent out its quack, once left, once right. Answering sounds came flatly through the night.

‘What are they saying?’

‘No sign of us, that’s all. But they know they’re ahead.’

Theo looked at his watch. It was half past ten. He could not believe they had been walking so long. But when he looked back he saw the land sloping endlessly to the sea. Ahead the peak of the island rose like a church steeple.

‘How close are we?’

‘It’ll take another half hour. We’re going to go round to the north. When we get on the rim I’m going to leave you hidden and go further round with Rachel.’

Theo nodded. It made sense. When Rachel had thrown her stone the Wilberforces would lose interest in her.

They climbed again, working to the left. At intervals the Wilberforces quacked to each other but the sounds became more distant and finally died away.

‘They’re at the rim. They’re waiting.’

Every step now they made with care. Not a twig must crack or stone roll. Half an hour went by. A single quack sounded, close and to the left.

‘Now I’m taking charge again,’ Mr Jones pebbled. ‘We’ve only got a hundred metres to go. Keep your stones well shielded.’

They moved silently through the stunted trees over ground that grew more level. Again Rachel closed her eyes. She felt as if she were drifting off to sleep. Theo felt in the grip of a dream – a nightmare. He would rather have been left to shift for himself. The trees thickened. He had to twist, turn, duck, even crawl, to avoid rustling their leaves. His body felt as if it were doing a dance. He knew that if it did not stop soon he would try to break free. But Mr Jones halted at last. He released the twins.

‘Now. We’re right on the rim, in the thickest part of the bush. You can see down into the crater, Theo. There’s a Wilberforce over there, right opposite. He looks like a big black rock. There’s another one along to our left. One of the babies. Don’t look, you can’t see him. The mother’s on our right about fifty metres away. Now, Theo. Stay here. Don’t move, no matter what you see. I’ll come back for you. Until then, not a sound. Don’t even breathe. Rachel, follow me.’

‘Goodbye, Theo.’

‘Goodbye. Be careful.’

The words breathed in their minds. Theo wished they could have been spoken properly. But he kept still, kept quiet, did not even turn his head as Rachel and Mr Jones crept away. He was on his knees, crouching close to the ground, Lenart held tight against his chest. The opposite rim of the crater showed through a gap between trees. The Wilberforce over there had no shape. It was absolutely still. Moonlight gleamed on the oily slope of its back. Theo tried to see the rest of the seven. But only two other pieces of the rim were in his sight and these were clear. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the ground. Dreams of his home and parents and friends floated through his mind. That life seemed far away. He did not believe he would ever find his way back to it. Only the Wilberforces were real, and Mr Jones, and Rachel. The stone, Lenart, throbbing in his hand, was real. He wondered why oblivion should be called a gift. That was stupid – the Joneses must have been a stupid race. Oblivion was death, and death was horrible – and close. Only a single mistake … He was struck with terror at the danger he was in. He curled himself up tighter, closed his eyes tighter, tried to sink into the ground. Please, he prayed, please, help me get out of this. I don’t want to die.

A single quack sounded in the night. Heavy bodies crashed through the bush. He started up on his knees. But the Wilberforce on his right was heading around the back of the patch he was in. Across on the opposite rim the shape was gone from sight. And another was speeding over the rocks further round, its body gleaming in the moonlight. Theo saw Rachel. She was further on, well clear, standing in the light on the crater rim. She looked tiny. Beside her was Mr Jones – a small figure too, frail as an elf. The charging Wilberforce had the bulk of a rhinoceros. The two had no chance, and Theo began to move hopelessly to their aid.

Then he heard an echo in his mind: Mr Jones’s voice, faint but sharp as glass. ‘Throw, Rachel.’ And he saw Rachel raise her arm obediently. The charging Wilberforce gave a frightened quack.

Rachel’s voice rose into the night, clear, thin, careful, the sort of voice she might use for a recitation. But to Theo it contained a note of grief. ‘Go down, People of the Mud.’ She drew back her arm and hurled her stone high in the air.

As it left her hand it turned a brilliant red, threw out spiky beams. The line of its flight was a perfect quarter circle, taking it unerringly to the centre of the crater. The force that propelled it was its own – Rachel could never have thrown so far. It lit the entire crater. The moonlight vanished. Nothing remained hidden. Theo saw sleeping insects on the leaves. He saw the round black mouth of the Wilberforce on the other side of the crater. But for the moment he was safe, for light of this sort would be darkness to the Wilberforces. Then the beams grew fuzzy, the flow lost its hardness.

‘Down, Theo,’ a voice said in his head. ‘They’ll get their sight back in a moment.’