Under The Mountain (13 page)

Just in time he saw a fence. He vaulted over it, ripping his legs on the barbed wire, and stumbled across an asphalt road. A bank next, crumbling clay. Up that. And over the Maori terraces – four of them. He heard the fence smash down, heard one, two, three bodies jangle through the wire.

But now there was only one terrace to go. The light of his stone grew stronger. He risked a look behind. The father was on the second terrace, the two sons on the first. They went from sight to mount the banks. Too close. Theo gave a cry of rage and despair. He hurled himself at the bank. He clawed with his fingers, scraped with the fist holding Lenart. And the top was under his hand. He stood on it, caught his balance. The crater, the city, the harbour lay in front – and Rangitoto capped with red. But the father was on the final bank, surging up, quacking with a heavy enraged sound.

Theo jumped. His feet slapped on the asphalt surface of the parking lot. It was wider than he remembered, as wide as a motorway. He was scarcely a quarter way over when the Wilberforce smacked heavily down behind him and hissed into full speed again. He ran as though the ground were falling away behind him. He raised his arm ready to throw. But that brought the Wilberforce on with a final rush that would take him before he could shout his part of the incantation. He swerved and the creature went by almost touching his heels. He ran at an angle towards the crater lip and the Wilberforce turned with no loss of speed and went with him, a little behind, rushing to block and catch him at the same instant. Three metres. Another three metres. But the Wilberforce was there and he had to swerve again. The creature had learned. It had grown a whip-like arm and as it swept by, its tip found Theo’s ankle and wrapped around it. Theo crashed down. He was dragged across the asphalt. He was stunned, scraped raw on his legs and elbows. But his grip on Lenart held. And as the Wilberforce turned to crush him he lifted his arm, gave a flick of his wrist, and sent the stone skimming away across the creature’s back.

‘We bring you the gift of …’ he cried. And the final word was nearly lost. Why didn’t they say death when they meant it? ‘… oblivion.’

The Wilberforce stopped. He could feel the coldness from its skin. Its round mouth faced him like a tunnel. And from it came a single, lost, despairing quack.

The stone was climbing lazily in its flight, sending out blinding shafts of blue light. It hovered over the centre of the crater before it began to drop. The bowl was filled with light. The grass and asphalt were blue, and blue reflections moved on the hides of the three great Wilberforces gathered on the crater rim. Clumsily they began to slide down. Theo crawled forward and watched them. They moved like wool bales on a chute, in a lifeless way – yet Theo was not convinced. There was a pulsing in Lenart’s light that had not been in Johan’s. And he had not liked the way the stone had hovered as though uncertain of exactly where to drop. Johan had drawn a perfect arc.

The stone settled in the centre of the crater and a moment later the Wilberforces came to rest about it. They were still as three blocks of granite.

From the crater of Rangitoto a thin red beam of light climbed steadily into the sky. It bent towards Mount Eden, approached over the harbour, reached half way, and stopped: a red bow, bathing the sea and city in light. And slowly from the stone in Mount Eden’s crater its companion began to grow. But it grew with such pain, such reluctance. It made ten metres, and fell back ten. It climbed again and fell. Watching, Theo knew this was the damage he had done by putting Lenart down. The fault was his. If the blue arc of light failed to reach the red the world would die. He saw Auckland, a mass of lights, saw the building, the houses. The people would die, he would die, smothered in mud. The stars would go out.

The beam climbed again, fell back – not all the way. It stood like a blue spear fixed in the ground. Two more Wilberforces went by and slid down to join the others. The light climbed, with more ease Theo thought. It was taller than the crater rim and fell back only a third of its length.

The baby Wilberforces slid across the parking lot. They stopped beside Theo a moment almost as if to keep him company. Then they went down. The seven were there, about the stone, with blue light gleaming on their backs.

‘Theo,’ Rachel’s voice said.

‘Over here.’

She helped Mr Jones across the asphalt. The old man’s face was grey. He sank to his knees beside Theo. The blue light shone in his eyes but he had no strength to speak.

The beam was climbing easily now. It began to curve towards Rangitoto. Although it stopped from time to time it did not lose any ground. And finally it was speeding like an arrow.

In the instant before it touched the red the Wilberforces gave a haunting cry like the distant fading call of trumpets. They turned away from the stone and gathered a little way off in a circle.

The beams met, ran along each other, the blue twining down into Rangitoto, the red to Mount Eden. And from their meeting place five woven threads ran out, to North Head, Mount Victoria, Lake Pupuke, to One Tree Hill and Mount Wellington. They touched – soil or stone or water. It was done.

At once the Wilberforces were gone. A fierce wet detonation sounded in the crater. And the mountain lurched. It seemed to heave itself into the air. A rumble sounded deep inside it. Half the southern rim of its crater slipped into the bowl with a shingly roaring sound, like a great spill of concrete. For a moment a huge force pressed from below and the asphalt round the place where the twins had fallen cracked like ice on a pond. The mountain trembled, trembled. It gave a groaning sigh. Then everything was still.

Slowly Rachel and Theo climbed to their feet. They looked about them. The lights of the city had gone out. Under the moon, the streets were ghostly, deserted. Only here and there the headlights of cars sent out pale uncertain rays.

On the mountain the slip covered the place where the Wilberforces had exploded. The beams from the stones had vanished. In the air was a leaden hush, the stillness before some dreadful event. The twins felt their skin prickle.

Rachel gave a moan. ‘Oh, no.’ Theo covered his face. Then it came. The sky was filled with concussions, with cracking, with the scream of air torn apart. The sea buckled like tin. Over Rangitoto, over the lake, towers of fire and ash reared up like monsters in a dream. The sky turned to blood.

The twins held on to each other. A gale began to blow about their faces.

‘What’s happening?’ Rachel wept.

It was a long time before Theo could answer. At last he said, ‘The worms – they exploded. Because I couldn’t hold Lenart.’

‘But Rangitoto – the lake …?’

‘It set them off again. The water got down to the lava.’

Rangitoto was not important, he knew. It would lay a foot of ash over the city. But the lake – the lake … All those houses, the hospital, the people … He hid his eyes and lay down on the ground.

‘Theo,’ whispered a voice.

He shook his head. ‘Go away.’

‘Your world is safe, Theo.’

He shook his head.

Rachel lay down beside him and put her arm over his back.

‘My children, it is safe,’ whispered Mr Jones. ‘But you do right to grieve. That was the way it happened.’

His voice passed quietly through their minds. It died. They raised their heads and saw a pale flame floating over the crater. It turned into a mist. The wind broke it and flung it away.

In a little while they stood up. Under the fierce red sky they climbed down from the mountain and walked hand in hand through the streets. They found a knot of people and asked for shelter from the wind and ash.

About the author

Maurice Gee is one of New Zealand’s best-known writers for adults and children. He has won a number of literary awards, including the Wattie Award, the Deutz Medal for Fiction, the New Zealand Fiction Award, the New Zealand Children’s Book of the Year Award and the Prime Minister’s Award for Literary Achievement.

Under the Mountain
was Maurice Gee’s first children’s novel and subsequent novels include
Salt
,
Gool
,
The Fat Man
,
Orchard Street
,
Hostel Girl
and
The O Trilogy
. Maurice lives in Nelson with his wife Margareta, and has two daughters and a son.