The Ancient One (30 page)

Slowly, she started trudging up the slope. The entrance to Gashra’s lair had to be somewhere near, although she could only guess what it might look like. Then, sensing something following her, she whirled around, heart pounding. She saw nothing but the clouds of steam rising from the crevasses below and the blackened debris of the rocky ridge. She shivered involuntarily, recalling the ghostly apparitions of the past night. Perhaps they were still stalking her, even in daylight.

She felt the entrance before she saw it. A powerful gust of heated air, like a blast from an open furnace, struck her face. Turning toward the heat, she spotted a triangular cave among the charred boulders, descending into the dark depths of the mountain. Two pools of lava bubbled and steamed at either side of the entrance, casting a wavering orange light into the mouth of the cave.

As she stepped closer, the heated air blew more strongly in her face, smelling like sulfur, drying her eyes and forcing her to squint. Then the hot wind slackened, only to resume a few moments later, as if the mountain itself were breathing through this passageway. The large scab on the back of her left hand began to throb again, just as it had before whenever Slimnis lurked nearby. She swallowed, certain that this was the entrance to the lair of the Wicked One.

She scanned the dimly lit cave. What chance could she possibly have to outwit Gashra, to steal the Broken Touchstone? Next to none, probably. But she knew the odds against her were no worse than those against Aunt Melanie, five hundred years later, struggling to save a cherished stand of redwoods.

Waiting until the fiery breath slackened, Kate entered the mouth of the cave. Long rows of lava pools lined the passageway like torches, throwing their eerie light upon the rock walls. As she walked, her sneakers sometimes slid across slick puddles of mud or crunched on crumbling bits of pumice. Her elbow brushed against a knifelike protrusion, ripping her sleeve and gashing her skin.

At that instant she heard a loud hiss, followed by the sound of slithering bodies ahead of her in the cave. She froze, until the sounds melted into the steady gurgling of the pots of lava. She placed her aching left hand protectively under her sweatshirt, but the throbbing pain only grew more intense. Then, feeling something moving behind her, she turned to the rear. But she saw nothing except the dimly lit cave.

Creeping forward again, she began to notice the varieties of colors and formations sprouting from the rock walls. Hundreds of lavender crystals, spun fine as hairs, drooped down like scraggly beards. One formation puffed outward like a cluster of silver balloons, expanding and contracting with the underground wind. From the ceiling hung mineralized tendrils and jagged stalactites, sometimes merging into columns with the sharp stalagmites thrusting upward from the floor.

The passageway wound downward, descending into the abdomen of the mountain. With every step, the air grew warmer. Kate frequently mopped her dripping brow with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but perspiration continued to sting her eyes.

Then, mysteriously, the chain of lava pools came abruptly to an end. Inching ahead, she perceived in the darkness before her the slightest glimmer of orange light. As she drew closer, the glimmer brightened into a strong glow, while the floor of the cave sloped much more steeply downward. Soon the drop became so sharp that she could not help but run, across loose rocks and broken bits of crystal, toward the source of the light.

Suddenly she found herself standing in a mammoth chamber. Frothing orange lava filled most of its floor. Only the polished shelf of stone on which she stood and a steeple-shaped island of black rock rising out of the bubbling lake of lava were not submerged. High above her head, giant red stalactites hung down like pointed fangs, casting fearsome shadows on the ceiling.

At that moment the surface of the lake began to swirl in a powerful whirlpool. Slowly, accompanied by a clamorous slurping sound, a colossal figure started to emerge out of the froth. Dripping in superheated lava, the creature rose out of the lake as if riding on an invisible escalator, then strode onto the wide stone ledge only a few yards from Kate.

A towering red beast, with the head and body of a
Tyrannosaurus rex
and the enlarged arms and legs of a human, glowered down at her. Standing more than twenty feet tall, the creature swished his massive tail angrily on the stone floor, spraying lava globules around the room. Armorlike red scales covered his entire body, though often obscured by the layers of caked lava. Only the bulbous black eyes, each one the size of Kate’s whole head, and the deep purple lips that ran the length of his teeth-studded jaws did not carry scales. As the beast raised one of his huge arms, she could see a row of fleshy suction cups embedded in the scales underneath, running from the armpit all the way down to the palm of his hand. A foot-long slab of meat, all that remained of some unfortunate being, dangled from the center of one suction cup near his wrist.

Part dinosaur, part man, and part octopus, the great carnivorous creature snorted furiously, sending from his nostrils a poisonous cloud of red vapor. As he did so, dozens of gemstones and skulls and glittering baubles hanging from bands around his neck jiggled and clattered. Simultaneously, several lizardlike Slimnis emerged from the shadows at the edge of the floor and slithered toward darkened tunnels in the rock near the cave entrance. With lightning speed, a long arm lashed out and slapped its suction cups across the back of one escaping Slimni. Roaring thunderously, the red beast lifted the squirming creature into the air and took a single dinosaur-size bite out of the midsection, then snapped up the green head and tail with another enormous swallow.

A thousand-tooth grin spread across his face, and he bellowed, “Hmmmmm, breakfast.” With that, he released a single titanic belch that rattled the great stalactites on the ceiling. Lowering his gigantic head toward Kate, the monster then rumbled, “What, you come to Gashra with no offerings?” His swollen eyes scanned her closely. “Hmmmmm . . . What is hidden in your sack?”

Feeling the heat from his body as well as his sulfurous breath, Kate backed away. Slipping one arm out of the day pack, she unzipped it and pulled out the small painted drum. She held it in front of herself with both hands and said nervously, “An offering. For you.”

“Rubbish,” roared the gigantic beast, swatting the drum with a swipe of his huge hand. It skidded across the stone floor and landed beside a vast hoard of accumulated treasures, including piles of sparkling jewels, spears, knives, Halami baskets, assorted tools, carved statuettes of Gashra himself, and several large red stones twisted into strange shapes. “But,” he added, “I’ll keep it anyway.” He bent closer. “Hmmmmm . . . what else do you have?”

Kate reached into the pack and retrieved the last of its contents: Aunt Melanie’s metal thermos. Slinging the now-empty sack over her shoulder again, she displayed the thermos to Gashra, more uncertain than ever about her goal. It would be difficult enough even to learn the location of the Broken Touchstone, let alone steal it. She needed to stall for time. But how? He clearly didn’t like the drum, and was even less likely to appreciate a beaten-up old thermos.

To her surprise, another many-toothed grin wrapped around the face of the Wicked One. He slapped the thermos with the palm of one hand, attaching it to a suction cup. Bringing it closer to his jaws, he bit ferociously into the middle. “Hmmmmm,” he said, emitting a sound like gurgling lava that could only be a laugh. “Good ore.”

Clapping his hands together, he bent the thermos in half. Then, with a distinct air of self-satisfaction, he slung it over one of his necklaces and pinched the two ends together to affix its position. Eyeing Kate again, he rumbled, “Nice. Very nice.” His eyes suddenly narrowed and he thundered, “But it doesn’t make up for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

Kate cleared her throat. “What trouble do you mean?”

Gashra glared at her. “You killed my servant Sanbu.”

The news hit Kate like a bucket of cold water. If Sanbu was really dead, then maybe Monga . . .

“I will miss him,” continued Gashra, gnashing his teeth savagely. “He was, hmmmmm, useful to me. Very useful.”

Planting her feet firmly on the stone floor, Kate declared, “He tried to steal the Stick of Fire from me.”

“Did he?” growled the beast, feigning surprise. “Hmmmmm, how clumsy of him.” Then Gashra bent low and said in his most soothing voice, “The last thing I would want is for a servant of mine to cause you any harm! Oh, no. You are far too important. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt. Not even a little bit bruised.” The purple lips stretched into a gargantuan smile. “By the way, where is the stick now? Hmmmmm?”

Kate, perspiring from more than the heat of the chamber, answered, “I destroyed it.”

The Wicked One reared up and waved his tentacle-like arms. “You
what
?” he roared, so forcefully that one giant stalactite broke loose from the ceiling and plunged into the frothing lake of lava. “Don’t you know that stick is the only way to find the Fragment? Hmmmmm?”

“I know,” answered Kate, maintaining her calm. Then she added, trying her best to sound truthful, “I already found it.”

The oversized eyes of Gashra swelled still larger. “You did? You have it?” His tail waved excitedly. “Show it to me.”

“It’s hidden,” she replied. “Why should I show it to you?”

Gashra snorted angrily, releasing a cloud of red vapor. “Because,” he snarled, “I will kill you if you don’t.”

Forcing herself to remain stationary, Kate declared, “Then you’ll never find the Fragment.”

Gashra paced back and forth, contemplating. “Hmmmmm. I hope it’s not too hot in here for you,” he said, again using his most soothing voice. “Like all underground beings, I require a certain amount of heat.” He flashed a few dozen teeth, adding, “But not for long. With every minute, my power is building, thanks to the Broken Touchstone. Soon I will be strong enough to stride freely on the surface. And a great moment that will be! But now, back to you. Tell me your name. Your short name, the one your friends call you.”

“Kate.”

“Kate,” repeated Gashra. “Such a nice name, hmmmmm. Yes, very nice. Now, Kate, consider this thought. Have you ever imagined what we could accomplish together?” He waved his tail again. “If you help me, your greatest dreams will come true. Just think of it! We will control everything, you and I. The whole world will be ours. Every last needle on every last tree, every last feather on every last wing. Nothing can stop us.”

Kate fidgeted. Then, judging her moment, she asked, “How do I know you really have the Broken Touchstone?”

“I have it,” rumbled Gashra cautiously.

“Where?”

The bulbous eyes surveyed her with suspicion. “Somewhere.”

“Then how do I know you really have it?”

“How do I know you have the Fragment?”

“I wouldn’t be foolish enough to come here unless I did,” answered Kate.

Gashra lifted his long arm and licked the row of suction cups. “If you don’t cooperate, I could boil you in lava. You’d end up like the rest of my souvenirs.” He waved a hand toward his hoard of treasures.

Kate gasped, for she suddenly recognized the origin of the twisted red stones scattered throughout the jumbled pile. Bodies. Bodies of all kinds of animals: deer, owls, Slimnis, serpents, squirrels, and at least one Tinnani that she could see.

Powered by renewed rage, Kate turned back to Gashra, who continued to lick his suction cups with evident pleasure. “You can’t threaten me,” she said firmly. “I know how much you want that Fragment.”

Gashra lowered his arm and examined her thoughtfully. “It’s a pity, hmmmmm. You look like such a tasty little morsel. But you’re right. I do want that Fragment. And I will grant you your deepest wish if you will just give it to me.”

Taken aback, Kate asked, “What wish?”

The dinosaur eyes closed for a moment, then reopened. “I will reunite you with the one you call Aunt Melanie.”

Kate shuddered. “How did—how did you know that?”

“The forest has many ears loyal to me,” rumbled the reply. “Even if you don’t really have the Fragment, for I can feel a great capacity for treachery in you, I think you could still help me find it. Hmmmmm, yes, I’m sure that’s right. After all, the Stick of Fire chose you for a reason. Here is my promise to you: If you help me find it, I will send you back to your Aunt Melanie.”

Her resolve disintegrating, Kate asked hesitantly, “You would really do that?”

“Of course,” roared the Wicked One. “In a flash.” He scooped up a handful of lava in his hand from the lake, then rubbed the hot liquid against the back of his neck. “Good for the skin,” he explained, grinning broadly. “Unless of course you’re made of mere flesh.”

At once Kate remembered her scalded left hand. She cringed at the memory of the deadly green pool, of Aunt Melanie scrubbing the hand so furiously in the rivulet. In her mind’s eye she followed that small stream as it flowed down over the rocks of the crater and into the depths of the Hidden Forest, ultimately to empty into the blue lake and finally to join the crashing cascade of Kahona Falls. She wanted to sec Aunt Melanie again more than anything else in the world.

“If I’m going to join with you,” she said slowly, “you’ve first got to tell me your plan.”

“My plan is to conquer,” bellowed the beast. “To own everything I can, hmmmmm, and destroy whatever I cannot. And my first great assault is only minutes away.” He shrugged his head toward the bubbling lake of lava, “Even without the whole Touchstone, my power is swelling rapidly. Soon it will be great enough to drown most of the forest in a sea of fire. That will take care of those miserable Tinnanis, and their friends the Halamis, for good. Ha! They’ll regret ever trying to stop me. In just a few minutes, the pressure of this lava will be so great that it will burst free at last, blasting away the top of this mountain and everything else in its path.”

Kate then noticed that the level of the frothing lake had risen steadily since she first arrived. Now it slopped over the edge of the stone floor, consuming more of the ledge every second, nearing the dark tunnels through which the Slimnis had escaped. Lava lapped still higher on the steeple-shaped island, while Gashra’s tail now swam in the scalding fluid.