The Ancient One (21 page)

Kate’s mind churned. It was likely she would perish in the attempt to find both pieces of the Touchstone, that much was clear. In that case she wouldn’t be much use to Aunt Melanie or anybody else, ever again. But if she chose to do nothing, then she and Laioni would be safe, at least for now. Yet that meant she would never even have a chance to help Aunt Melanie in her time of need. Nor would she ever see her again.

She looked for a moment into the yellow eyes of the carved handle. “All right,” she announced. “I’m going to try.” Casting a harsh glare at Jody, she said, “Why don’t you just stay here? You’ll only get in the way.”

“No way,” he replied. “I told you, I go with that stick. If this isn’t just a bad dream, I’m not gonna miss my chance.”

“He can’t stay here,” declared the Chieftain. “Gives me heartburn just to look at him.”

Kate frowned and faced the ruling couple. “Before we go, then, isn’t there anything else you can tell us about where to find the Fragment?”

“Nothing,” answered the Chieftess solemnly, spinning her head one way and then the other, “Just remember what you have heard. It may prove useful.”

“Then I think,” said Kate to Laioni, “we should go first to the lair of the Wicked One. At least we know the Broken Touchstone is there. The Fragment—who knows where it might be? Maybe it doesn’t even still exist.”

“It exists,” declared the Chieftess firmly.

Just then Monga placed his front paws on the table by the Chieftain’s side. In one swift gulp, he swallowed all the remaining oysters.

“Monga,” exclaimed Laioni in dismay, pulling him away. “Monga, no.”

The Chieftain glowered at the dog, who wagged his tail gleefully. Then he turned to Kate. “Make it twenty thousand peppermints.”

Kate sighed. “All right, but it’s all irrelevant if I get killed trying to get back.”

“No getting killed until you deliver the peppermints,” commanded the Chieftain. “It is forbidden.” Seeing the look of consternation on his wife’s face, he quickly proposed, “Now then, let us give you something to sustain you on your journey.” Tapping his claws on his belt buckle, he hooted, “Bring me three bags of
minarni
.”

Immediately, one of the grass-caped aides flew to the thrones, bearing three brown leather pouches with long straps meant to be tied around the waist. One he gave to Kate, one to Laioni, and one, reluctantly, to Jody.

Peering into the pouch, Jody lamented, “Bird food! Are we supposed to eat this?”

“Quiet,” ordered Kate. “I still haven’t decided to let you come.”

“You will find it both nourishing and filling,” said the Chieftain, adding under his breath, “even if the taste is unremarkable.” He stirred his wings. “And before you go, I have one more thing to offer you. It might not be any help, but then again it might.” He clapped his hands and spoke a strange word: “Kandeldandel.”

From the rear of the crowd of Tinnanis stepped a scrawny-looking figure. His white feathers stuck out unevenly, less orderly even than Monga’s fur. In one hand he held a manila-colored wooden flute. His small mouth twisted slightly up to one side, giving the impression of a permanent grin. Upon his left shoulder rested a small, rust-colored owl with large brown eyes. He stepped before the thrones of the Chieftain and Chieftess and bowed awkwardly, nearly losing the creature perched on his shoulder.

Jody’s brow furrowed. “I don’t like the looks of this one.

“I present to you,” announced the Chieftain, “Kandeldandel, third flutist in my orchestra.”

“At your service,” hooted Kandeldandel in a deep bass voice that seemed permeated with humor, like a cross between a foghorn and a belly laugh.

At that, the small brown-eyed owl flapped his wings and whistled angrily. Kandeldandel cleared his throat and added, “And my friend Arc, Your Wingedness. He is at your service too.”

“Mmm, yes,” muttered the Chieftain. “I forgot you two go everywhere together.” With a note of defensiveness, he continued, “Kandeldandel is one of the few people I can spare right now. When the Broken Touchstone disappeared, he wasn’t around to join in the search. Probably off someplace playing his flute—which he does quite well, by the way. Only trouble is, when he plays, it has the unfortunate effect of putting out fires. So he can’t play for you at your fire pit. Maybe, though, his music can lighten your hearts while you travel to the Wicked One’s mountain.” Eyeing the musician, the Chieftain added skeptically, “If he sticks around that long.”

The Chieftess nodded in agreement. “It is right that Kandeldandel should go. An excellent choice.”

Kandeldandel shifted his weight uncomfortably, dropped his flute with a clatter, bent over to pick it up and dropped Arc off his shoulder, retrieved the flute, helped the small owl settle back on his perch, then dropped the flute again.

“Gee, thanks,” said Kate dismally.

“How do we get out of here?” demanded Jody.

“My, my, he won’t like the answer to that question,” said the Chieftain to himself. He leaned toward Kate and smacked his lips. “Don’t forget your promise, now, if you succeed.”

“If I succeed,” repeated Kate weakly.

The wise eyes of the Chieftess connected one last time with hers. Raising her wings slightly, she said, “Hold fast to your stick of power. It is your only hope, and ours as well.
Halma-dru
to you all.”

It was Laioni who answered. “And to you as well.”

The Chieftain clapped his hands three times. Suddenly, Kate heard a fluttering of wings. Before she knew what was happening, a pair of strong talons wrapped around each of her arms, just below the armpit. In an instant, she was airborne, carried vertically as if she were standing on an aerial escalator, rising toward the top of the great room. With a metallic creak, a circular door slid open in the middle of the ceiling, beyond which she saw clouds of white vapor.

She cast a final glance below. White-winged Tinnanis ringed the three thrones, one of which sat empty. The last thing she heard before rising through the door was a voice calling, “Oysters! Bring me more oysters.”

XIX:
A
IRBORNE

As she sailed through the opening, borne by two Tinnanis pumping their broad wings in constant rhythm, Kate saw the island of Ho Shantero from a new vantage point. Blacker than coal it remained, but it seemed somehow less sinister. Water flowed over most of its surface, draining down from the spindly spires to run in broad streams across the island’s main bulk. She wondered if this water, pumped to the tops of the spires by some strange mechanism, could be part of the system that kept Ho Shantero afloat.

At once she realized that these very streams, rippling and shifting over the surface, were the source of the impression of movement, of crawling, that had so frightened her. She grinned at her own gullibility, then found herself wishing that some of her fears of Gashra, the Wicked One, might prove to be so unfounded. Yet her heart held little hope.

The island disappeared in a sea of white vapor as the Tinnanis carried the companions ever higher. Kate caught passing glimpses of Laioni, smiling as another pair of white-winged Tinnanis lifted her through the clouds. She saw Jody only once, hoisted by his belt and uninjured arm, his usual downtrodden look replaced with one of sheer amazement. Monga she heard barking through the mist, but never viewed; she imagined the spirited dog was probably enjoying his first taste of flight. Once she spotted Kandeldandel, flute in hand, flying erratically with the small reddish owl by his side.

Kate soon relaxed her body, trusting herself to the hearty creatures whose wings beat so powerfully above her. Their talons squeezed her upper arms tightly, but not hard enough to stop her circulation. She felt the fluffy leggings of their trouser feathers above each of her shoulders, and sometimes the quivering plumage tickled the edges of her ears. To her surprise, she heard virtually no sound as the Tinnanis flew, only the vaguest whoosh of air at the start of each downstroke.

In her mind’s eye, Kate tried to fathom what lay below, as if she were drawing her own version of Aunt Melanie’s map on the impervious clouds beneath her. She imagined the deep blue lake, two Halami women and a baby in a cradle still camped on its shore. The women sang softly while preparing their next meal, although the younger one regularly lifted her head, listening for a sound she had waited too long to hear. By a field of rushing water at one end of the lake, the green spires of the Hidden Forest rose skyward. Near its center, the great grove of redwood trees towered in stately grace, and in the center of the grove stood the Ancient One, Beyond, toward the ridge of cliffs, a small green pool frothed ominously. Next to it rested a ring of great boulders, silently waiting and watching.

Suddenly the mist melted into trailing wisps that hung in the air like the breath of dragons. Gray sky appeared overhead. The ragged ridge of gray-brown cliffs loomed out of the clouds, encircling the entire crater. From this bird’s-eye view, it resembled an enormous bowl of steaming soup. Sunlight scattered in the swirling masses of mist, illuminating their upper reaches. Kate felt suddenly cold, for the first time since crawling through the tunnel behind the waterfall.

Over the rim the Tinnanis carried her, so close she felt she could almost kick the rocks with her feet. No longer protected by the crater, she was buffeted by cold winds. Her teeth started to chatter, and her dangling body swayed within the grip of the talons. Her upper arms and neck began to ache.

Passing across the high cliffs, Kate understood clearly why Lost Crater would remain undisturbed for the next five hundred years. No one, without the aid of wings either natural or man-made, could surmount those steep and slick walls.
The Back of Beyond,
Aunt Melanie had called this place.

As they cleared the rim, the view took her breath away, and for a moment she forgot about the cold. Forest, ancient and sprawling, stretched as far as she could see under the overcast sky. From this height the differences from her own time leaped out boldly: No dusty brown squares splattered the ridges, no mud-filled canyons crawled toward the sea. Not all looked well with the forest, however. Some sections, scorched by fire, still smoldered. Thick, black smoke clung to some of the valleys, and strange clouds of steam rose from the more distant rivers.

Then, on the horizon, Kate spotted an unfamiliar, rounded mountain that was belching steam from its summit. In a flash, she realized it was in the same location as the jagged, fang-shaped peak she had seen from Kahona Falls, the one known in later times as Brimstone Peak. And she knew she was viewing the fortress of Gashra, the Wicked One.

A thunderous, crashing sound filled the air. She looked down to see Kahona Falls, pouring endlessly out of the vertical wall of the crater. The Tinnanis then started to descend, carrying her straight into the billowing spray of the waterfall. As they drew nearer to the trees below, Kate glimpsed a delicate brown rope bridge stretching across the crevasse she had crossed using Aunt Melanie’s rickety wooden ladder. Some means of transportation, she thought, had not improved in the last five hundred years.

In seconds, she was dropping into the tops of the trees. The wind died down until it scarcely whispered in her ears. She felt steadily warmer, though not as warm as inside the crater. Burly branches rose around her, and her feet brushed against several lacy canopies. With a whooshing of wings, the two Tinnanis lowered her gently to the forest floor, potent in its fragrance of needles, cones, and resins. Her feet touched down on the spongy ground just as the talons released their grip around her aching arms.

Holding the walking stick in one hand, she craned her stiff neck to see the creatures hovering above her. One of them called good luck in a low hooting voice. Before she could answer, they lifted swiftly toward the sky, white wings beating in unison.

XX:
C
ALL OF
THE
O
WL

Seconds later, Laioni and Monga joined Kate on the needle-strewn floor of the forest. Tall trees, straight as stalks of corn, pushed skyward on all sides. Their gnarled trunks, though not so covered with moss as their cousins inside the fog-filled crater, rose equally impressively into the air. Delicate fronds of fern sprouted from twisted roots and broken branches, while limbs low to the two girls’ heads supported a panoply of birds and squirrels, butterflies, and beetles. Monga leaped at one squirrel, nipping at the tail almost as bushy as his own.

“How was your ride?” asked Kate, already knowing the answer.

Laioni smiled slowly, still savoring the experience. “For a moment, I had wings.”

The aroma of some June blossom, sweet and fresh, wafted to Kate’s nose. She listened to the branches swishing high above her head. Intermittently, when the wind quieted, she could hear the distant rumbling of Kahona Falls. Then came a loud cracking of twigs.

Jody stepped into view from behind a stately Douglas fir, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not bound in a sling. “Some ride,” he said derisively. “But it was worth it to get away from those owl-people.”

“I hope you appreciate what they did for you,” said Kate testily.

“What’s to appreciate?” he shot back.

“They fixed your shoulder, for one thing.”

“And gave you flight,” added Laioni sternly.

Jody stared in surprise at the Halami girl, then turned back to Kate. “What did she say?”

“She said you got a chance to fly, and that’s something else to appreciate.”

Glancing upward, he allowed, “It was pretty amazing, I’ll say that. Once you got used to it.”

Laioni’s expression softened slightly, but she said nothing.

“One thing’s for sure,” Jody went on, “I don’t think I’m dreaming anymore. My neck wouldn’t hurt like this if I was dreaming.” He contemplated Kate suspiciously, “You just made up all that stuff about their getting revenge for that owl I killed, didn’t you?”

Kate merely grinned.

“Hey, how come you understand all these weird languages? You talk to owl-people and Indians, too.”