The Ancient One (34 page)

Kate viewed her lovingly. “I guess anything is possible.”

Laioni’s head drooped. “It’s not possible to bring Monga back to life. I wish he didn’t have to die.”

Hugging her again, Kate could only say, “I know.”

“He loved me not like a dog, but like a brother.”

“Or,” whispered Kate, “like a sister.”

Though her vision was clouded, Kate then caught sight of Jody, standing uncomfortably in a sea of Tinnanis. He no longer wore an arm sling, but his face was lined with pain. Without letting go of Laioni, she said, “You were great up there.”

The boy shrugged, pushing the stray locks of red hair off his forehead. “A whole lot of good it did. Without that stick of yours, we’ll never get back to where we belong. Now we’re stuck forever in this crazy owls’ nest.”

The Chieftain glared at him.

“Sorry,” said Kate, tugged herself by the thought of home.

Jody, seeing her consternation, said, “Look, don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? You did it to save somebody’s life, and that’s important. More important than anything Honus Wagner ever did.”

Kate almost smiled. She released Laioni and stepped toward him. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Sure,” he replied, his eyes fixed on hers.

Feeling a sudden surge of gratitude, Kate gave him an awkward hug. “You’re a real friend,” she said, then backed away again.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Blushing, he thrust his hands into the pockets of” his jeans. “Oh, yeah,” he said, clearly hoping to change the subject. “I thought you might want this.” He pulled out a charred, jagged object. “It was all that was left of the stick when the fire went out. From inside the handle, I think. Thought you might want to keep it, though I’m not sure why.”

As she took the object in her hand, Kate noticed a tiny glint of red beneath its blackened exterior. She rubbed it against her sweatshirt, revealing more of the true color. Suddenly, she gasped, closing her hand around it. Rushing toward the Chieftain’s throne, she darted to its base and reached for the Broken Touchstone.

“What in the world?” sputtered the Chieftain. “Put that back!”

“Just a minute,” answered Kate. Holding the Touchstone in one hand and the charred remains of the handle in the other, she brought them together, fitting the object into the crack in the sphere’s surface. It slid inside perfectly.

A burst of bright red light and the sound of a distant explosion filled the chamber as the two pieces fused into one. Lifting the sphere above her head for all to see, Kate declared, “The Touchstone is healed.”

A simultaneous exclamation of awe arose from the Tinnanis, like the breath of a unified being. Then from somewhere at the back of the room, several deep horns blew triumphantly. “The Touchstone is healed,” chanted many voices at once. “The Touchstone is healed.”

As Kate replaced the glowing sphere atop the throne, her eyes met those of the Chieftess, whose countenance now bore a new lightness. “So it was in the stick all the time,” said the Tinnani in wonderment. Softly, she recited the words of the ancient prophecy:

Fragment, object of desire,
Shall be found anew.
One who bears the Stick of Fire
Holds the power true.

“This is a day to remember,” announced the Chieftain. “Let there be a feast! A feast like none ever seen before in the history of my people.” Above the cheers from the crowd, he commanded, “Break out my entire storehouse of delicacies!”

“Yes, Your Wingedness,” replied the Tinnani wearing a long cape, before flying off toward one of the side tunnels.

Yet despite the rising tide of joy around her, Kate stood alone and detached. For although this place and time now bathed in the light of the unified Touchstone, her longing for her own place and time only increased.

Laioni, perceiving her sadness, came closer. “We have lost many, you and I.” Then, taking Kate’s hand in her own, she suggested, “Come with me, as one of my people. Join the Halamis—the few that are left—and help us find our new home.”

Kate looked at her soulfully. “I will come with you,” she said at last. “But my home will never be here, now. My true home I’ll never see again.”

“It is a pity,” spoke the Chieftess, who had been listening. “The very act which found the Fragment, lost for so many ages, is the same act which denies you the ability to return to your own time. For when you destroyed the Stick of Fire, you destroyed its power to travel through time. There is no other way.”

“No,” declared another voice, resonant and melodic. “There is another way.”

Kate turned to see Fanona, her strength now fully restored, standing atop the bench of black stone. She spread her wings to their fullest, her feathers gleaming whiter than purest quartz. The two silvery tufts atop her head made her height, already considerable for a Tinnani, even more dramatic. Her wide yellow eyes, deeply thoughtful, roamed from her mother to her father to the Touchstone and finally to Kate.

“You are right,” said Fanona, “to say that the Stick of Fire is no more. Yet because it was destroyed in an act of love, new power has been created. As the words carved into its shaft foretold:

Fire of greed shall destroy;
Fire of love shall create
.”

She lowered her wings, “The power that once resided in the stick now dwells in the Touchstone itself.”

“Really?” asked Kate. “You mean I can go home?”

“You can?” demanded Jody. “How? When?”

“The Touchstone,” answered Kate, indicating the luminous sphere. “She says it has the power.”

“And she is right,” declared the Chieftess, looking proudly at her daughter. “Yes, just as the prophecy at her birth was right. She saw what I failed to see, that the fire of love can create.”

“How do we get back?” asked Jody.

The Chieftain, eyeing the boy with disdain, raised his voice. “Tell us now, Fanona, how can the Touchstone send these people home?”

Fanona emitted a flowing, rippling sound, more like the gurgle of a brook than the call of an owl. “All it requires is the help of one being whose life stretches unbroken from this time into the future.” She contemplated for a moment, then asked Kate, “Do you know any such being?”

“The Ancient One,” she replied. “The redwood tree that brought us here.”

“And so shall it take you home,” declared Fanona.

Suddenly remembering the tree’s imminent peril, Kate blurted, “But what if it’s cut—killed, before we get back?”

“Then you will be stranded in a timeless prison, a shadow land cut off from time as you know it.” Fanona concentrated her round eyes on Kate. “It is a serious risk. Are you sure you are willing to take it?”

“Stay here,” whispered Laioni. “Stay here with me.”

Kate shook her head. “I can’t, Laioni. I want to go back, and I’ll take my chances.”

“Me too,” said Jody.

“Then let us fly to the redwoods,” urged Fanona. “There is no time to waste.”

XXXII:
L
AIONI’S
P
ROMISE

Last to arrive at the redwood grove was the Chieftain. Flapping his white wings vigorously, he landed beside the small bonfire built by some of his attendants, who had already started roasting a variety of delicacies over the hot coals.

“Don’t forget the chives,” he ordered as he folded his wings and straightened the silver band on his head. Then, facing his wife, he said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. Had to check on the preparations for tonight’s feast.”

“You’re forgiven,” replied the Chieftess. “Never let it be said that Chieftain Hockeltock de Notnot ever neglected his culinary duties.”

Kate detected a note of resignation in her remark, but the Chieftain did not seem to notice. He stepped over to Fanona, who was seated on one of the burly roots of the Ancient One, gazing into the radiant Touchstone.

“It is good to see you well again,” he hooted softly.

Fanona looked up and smiled at him. “It is good to be well, even though I do not yet have enough strength to bear the thought of leaving Ho Shantero.”

“Don’t trouble yourself with such thoughts now,” answered the Chieftain. “You won’t have to do that for a while yet.”

“It is still too soon,” said Fanona, ruffling her white wings. “I can only hope that the new people, the ones in my mother’s dreams, might somehow come to change their ways. Then perhaps we will not have to leave at all.”

Turning to Kate, the Chieftain asked, “Well? Are you ready to begin your voyage?”

“I’m ready,” she declared. Then she faced Jody, who stood listlessly by the trunk of the great redwood, and called, “Are you set to go?”

He nodded his head, but did not look at her.

“He is going, isn’t he?” asked the Chieftain.

“He’s going,” said Kate. “Something’s bugging him, though.”

“Perhaps he wishes he could stay for the feast,” chuckled the Chieftain, tapping his belt buckle with his finger talons.

“Sorry we’ll have to miss it. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“That’s all right,” replied the plump Tinnani. “Leaves more food for the rest of us.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be bringing you any more peppermints,” Kate said. “I mean, without the stick, I’m not going to be doing much time traveling.”

The Chieftain frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“You might be surprised,” said the Chieftess, stepping closer to Kate. “You might find another way to visit us. There is more than one way to travel through time. In any case, if you should ever return, you know you are always welcome.”

“With peppermints, of course,” added her husband hopefully.

Kate turned to face Kandeldandel, whose injured wing was thoroughly wrapped in bandages. “I wish you could come with me. You’d love some of the flute music that gets written in the next few centuries,”

The half grin broadened slightly. “I’m sure. But I wish you didn’t have to go at all. I mean, what happens when I start to forget all those baseball rules you explained while we were walking in the tunnel?”

“That’s another reason to find a new little owl for your shoulder,” answered Kate. “He’ll help you remember.” She paused. “And when I forget how to make those owl calls you taught me, what do I do then?”

“That’s easy,” Kandeldandel answered. “Just practice them. The way I practice my flute.”

He lifted his flute to his lips and started to play a sweet, prancing melody. Without any warning, a loud commotion arose from the Chieftain’s attendants preparing the roasted delicacies. Kandeldandel, oblivious to any sounds other than his own music, continued to play jauntily.

Then the voice of one of the attendant Tinnanis rose above the clamor: “But how could the fire go out? There isn’t even any wind!”

Kandeldandel’s eyes widened and he shot a remorseful glance at Kate. He quickly lowered his flute, and the bonfire sprang to life once again. Cries of amazement came from the attendants.

“What luck,” said the musician disgustedly.

Laughing, Kate whispered to him, “Don’t worry. The Chieftain will get enough to eat tonight.”

Kandeldandel grinned at her, bobbing his head from side to side. Then he stopped, his expression suddenly serious. “I’m going to miss you,” he said. “Never thought I’d feel this way about, of all things, a human being. And it looks like this is our last conversation. Even though I hope to still be around in five hundred years, all the Tinnanis will probably have left the crater by then.”

“Maybe you can sign up for some sort of special duty that would keep you here after everyone else,” she suggested, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone.

“Doubtful,” answered Kandeldandel. He moved nearer, then touched her arm lightly with his good wing. “No hugs, now,” he cautioned sternly. “You’re likely to break my other wing.”

Kate, unable to find any words, merely ran a finger over the soft feathers of his shoulder.

At that, Kandeldandel turned and walked over to Jody, still standing off to the side. The Tinnani extended a hand, saying in his bass voice, “You did all right.”

To Jody, his words sounded only like deep hooting. Yet the boy lifted his head and studied Kandeldandel thoughtfully. Slowly, reluctantly, he, too, extended a hand. They clasped, boy and Tinnani, and shook briefly.

Kate joined them as their hands separated. She looked quizzically at Jody. “Something’s on your mind, I can tell.”

Pushing back the loose locks of red hair, Jody said, “I just, well, I just . . .”

“Yes?”

“I just want you to know something.”

“What’s that?”

“I know you’re gonna try to stop them from cutting down these redwoods.”

“If they’re still standing,” Kate replied.

“Well,” continued Jody, “I just hope you don’t expect me to help.”

“No, I don’t expect that. All I ask is that you stay out of my way.”

Jody gazed down at his feet, saying nothing.

“We’d better get going,” said Kate. “If the Ancient One gets cut before we get back, the time tunnel will shut and this whole conversation’s pointless.”

“Before you go,” spoke a familiar voice, “I want to say good-bye.”

Kate spun around to face a dark-eyed Halami girl. They studied each other for a long moment. Finally, Kate reached into her pocket and pulled out her well-worn Swiss army knife. “Here. This is for you. It might come in handy.”

Laioni hesitated, but when Kate pushed the knife toward her, she finally accepted it. “Your special tool,” she said gratefully. Then, in a hopeful voice, she added, “Perhaps you can use the one carried by Aunt Lemony.”

Kate smiled, choosing not to correct her.

“I have no gift for you,” Laioni said somberly. “Only a promise.”

“A promise?”

Laioni’s features hardened with determination. “I promise to teach all the Halami ways I know to any children who survived the eruption. They will learn our songs, our stories, and our blessings. They will teach their own children, who will teach their children, forever into the future. That way, perhaps, in your world many, many years from now, there might be a few small reminders of the Halamis left to greet you.”

“I won’t need any reminders,” said Kate. “But I know you’ll do as you say. And I’ll think of you often, even though I’ll never get to see you again.”