The Ancient One (36 page)

“Wanna bet?” replied Jody, sprinting over to the chain saw. He placed his boot against the housing for support. Then, leaving one hand in his pocket, he grabbed the handle with the other hand and started to extend the cord.

“No, don’t,” cried Kate, running several paces closer. Billy then turned toward her, eyeing her sternly, and she froze. Glowering at Jody, she muttered, “I should have known.”

Testing the tension on the cord, Jody stretched it slowly away from the housing. Six, twelve, eighteen inches.

“C’mon, hurry,” said Billy impatiently.

“Don’t,” Kate shouted in desperation.

At that instant Jody pulled his other hand from his pocket, clasping his pocket knife. He quickly pulled open the blade. Then, with a swift downward swipe, he slashed the starter rope in two. The cut cord snapped back into the housing.

“Hey,” exclaimed Billy, staring in disbelief at the now-inoperable saw. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just helping out,” replied the red-haired boy, smirking as he stuffed the handle and most of the starter cord into his pocket.

Furious, Billy started after him. Jody leaped over a fallen branch and dashed as fast as he could into the forest with the big man on his heels.

Kate felt like cheering. Before she could utter a sound, however, Billy halted his pursuit after just a few steps. He spun to his right, stooped over, and lifted from the bushes another chain saw, evidently left behind by another logger fleeing from the storm. Cursing to himself, he stepped on the housing, yanked the starter cord, and immediately gunned the engine. Without even glancing at Kate, he strode purposefully back to the Ancient One and plunged the chain saw deep into its trunk.

As the blade tore into the body of the tree, Kate suddenly felt a searing pain in her side. Gasping, she saw that Billy had pierced the innermost core of the trunk. As he drove his saw deeper, her pain intensified, as if a serrated knife had sliced into her ribs, pulling back and forth, ripping at her abdomen. She stumbled, then tripped on a rock just behind her, twisting her knee badly as she fell.

“Ehhh,” she moaned, rolling to one side. She tried to stand, but her leg buckled underneath her. “Aunt Melanie,” she wailed, as the pain in both her knee and her torso grew worse. “Help me.” But her words were lost in the din of the chain saw.

Oblivious to her agony, Billy pushed the saw blade farther into the heart of the tree. Sawdust spewed in all directions. The towering redwood leaned slightly in the direction of the notch in its trunk—and in the direction of Kate.

Meanwhile the pain in her abdomen swelled steadily. Writhing on the ground, she thought she would pass out. Then, all of a sudden, the pain ceased. She lay on her back, breathing heavily, utterly exhausted. But for the ongoing throbbing in her knee, she was hardly sure she was still alive. Above her she saw the majestic boughs that still felt like limbs of her own, supported by the massive trunk that linked earth to sky, past to present. With all her heart she hoped that the tree might survive this assault, just as it had survived the assaults of so many fires, storms, and earthquakes in the past. She tried to sit up, but was still too weak to move.

Slowly, the redwood began swaying from side to side. With a tremble that reached from its roots to its tallest canopy, it tottered on its base, wobbling precariously. The bulging roots, coated with sawdust, held the soil as firmly as ever, but could no longer support the weight of the great tree. Yet still it stood. This tree would not go down easily.

At last Billy pulled out his saw, cut the engine, and backed quickly away from the trunk. Only a thin shaft of hinge wood remained of the once-sturdy column. Although Kate was now much nearer to the tree than himself, he could not see her from his new position. He watched with satisfaction as the redwood tilted still farther to one side. Holding itself high to the very last, it seemed to stand suspended by the sky alone for a long and perilous moment.

Then, in slow motion, the Ancient One leaned, leaned some more, leaned even more. Billy stepped sideways to get a better view, when suddenly he caught sight of Kate, doing her best to crawl clumsily away from the tree.

“Move!” he shouted.

“I’m trying,” she panted, dragging herself across the ground.

Without pausing to think, Billy ran toward her, even as the hinge wood finally shattered with an ear-splitting
crack,
as unforgiving as a backbone snapping in two. Grabbing her by the waist, he carried her out of the way just before the tree toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash. Cones and small branches rained down on them, and the entire forest shook from floor to ceiling.

Panting heavily, Billy dropped Kate on a bed of moss-covered sticks and tumbled to the ground beside her. He wiped the perspiration from his eyes with his T-shirt, then glared at the ungainly heap at his side.

“Of all the damn fool things,” he said angrily. “You could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Kate pushed herself slowly to a sitting position, wincing as she leaned against her injured knee. Her eyes met Billy’s briefly, then looked past him to the fallen form in the center of the grove. She could not believe that a being so magnificent as the Ancient One was now destined to be reduced to an assortment of patio chairs, redwood decks, and hot tub sidings. More than a millennium of life—destroyed in no time at all by a single chain saw. Her gaze lifted to the gaping hole against the sky where the tree had once stood. Despite the new light now reaching the forest floor, she felt submerged in darkness.

“Don’t you even say thanks?” fumed Billy. “I saved your life, for Pete’s sake.”

Sadly, she swung her face toward him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thanks,” she whispered, then turned away again.

For a long moment, Billy looked at her. Then, with a disgusted grunt, he rose to his feet. He stepped over to the chain saw, started to bend down to retrieve it, then caught himself. He straightened, glancing again at the mournful girl seated at the edge of the grove. A frown crossed his face and he said something under his breath. Then he turned and walked off sullenly into the forest.

A few moments later, a diminutive figure stole quietly out of the trees to Kate’s side. Feeling herself suddenly embraced, she faced the person kneeling next to her. Blinking to see more clearly, she found herself looking straight into a pair of warm, ebony-colored eyes.

“Aunt Melanie,” she said weakly. “It’s you.”

“It’s me, dear,” answered the white-haired woman, hugging her. At last she drew back, her shell earrings clinking softly as she moved. “I’m so glad you’re all right. The walking stick kept you safe, didn’t it?”

Kate could only nod.

The dark eyes studied her knowingly. “I wish I could have been with you.”

“You were,” answered Kate. Then she blurted, “The Ancient One. Billy—”

“I know, I know.” She brushed a hand through her white curls. “But he’s stopped now. Frank and I saw him heading for his truck as we were coming back here to try to find you.”

“How—how could he?” Tears again filled her eyes.

Aunt Melanie looked to the ground. As she started to speak, she noticed Kate’s swollen knee. “Your leg!” she exclaimed. “We should get you to the doctor.”

“It hurts,” sobbed Kate. “It hurts so much.”

Aunt Melanie nodded, knowing full well that Kate did not mean the pain in her leg.

Just then a pair of heavy leather boots crunched toward them on the needles. A gaunt-looking man bent down to them. “Is she hurt?”

“Her knee, Frank.”

“Let’s take her back to town. Doc Harris can put anything back together.”

Aunt Melanie glanced toward the fallen redwood. “Almost anything,” she whispered.

A
FTERWORD

For Kate, the next year flew past with the speed of a fast pitch. Her knee healed rapidly, and the Bulldogs’ first-string shortstop was soon back on the field. But in contrast to prior years, softball was not Kate’s sole diversion from classes. The school play, the Language Club, and the Time Travel Book Club (which she co-founded) also required lots of attention. She barely had any time to toss sticks with Cumberland in the yard, or even to write an occasional letter to Aunt Melanie.

Not that she didn’t often wonder about Lost Crater, about Laioni and Kandeldandel, about the new park Aunt Melanie’s letters described, about Jody and Frank and Billy. Sometimes, too, she woke up in the middle of the night, frightened by a dream about a giant tree crashing down on top of her. Yet just as often, she was overwhelmed with a craving for fresh huckleberry pie and spice tea. So it was with genuine enthusiasm that she accepted Aunt Melanie’s invitation to visit her again during June. She did not need her parents’ encouragement to say yes, as she had last year. This time, however, she packed her waterproof boots.

Once she arrived, she felt almost as if she had never left. The days were filled with fresh oatmeal cookies on top of homemade pie, the moist fragrance of spruce trees outside the cottage, the familiar musty smell within, the feeling of snuggling inside a soft quilt before the fire, laughter at Aunt Melanie’s mischievous jokes, and of course the occasional peppermint candy. One evening Frank and Jody came by for supper, and Frank was coaxed to play his harmonica late into the night. After they left, Aunt Melanie read a poem that Jody had written about the pain of losing loved ones, a poem that Kate felt she could have written herself.

Kate and her great-aunt took walks together. They played Pooh Sticks on the bridge. They ate and ate, and ate some more. They talked freely, about the town’s changes, about cooking with local herbs, about times good and bad.

And they talked about Kate’s adventure. About Laioni, about Kandeldandel, about Gashra. The Touchstone. Fanona, whose voice Kate could still hear in her memory. The floating island of Ho Shantero. The Chieftain and Chieftess. Parching seeds the Halami way. The Stick of Fire. The Dark Valley. Sanbu. Monga. Nyla and her six Stonehag sisters. Whether Tinnanis still inhabited Lost Crater. The Slimnis. Arc. Thika. The Ancient One. And so much more. Although Aunt Melanie listened closely to each of Kate’s descriptions, she seemed to pay special attention to any details regarding Laioni.

“You would have liked her,” said Kate before slurping noisily from her mug of hot chocolate.

The white-haired woman smiled mysteriously. “I’m sure.”

“I couldn’t believe how much she was like you.”

“We’re all cut from the same cloth, you know,” said Aunt Melanie. “Makes no difference whether we were born five years ago or five hundred years ago, whether we live on this side of the ocean or another.” She scrutinized Kate thoughtfully. “I imagine the same thing even holds true for tree spirits.”

Suddenly Aunt Melanie tossed aside her quilt, rudely awakening Atha, who was curled up by her side. “That reminds me. I almost forgot. There’s something you left behind last time you visited.”

She darted out of the living room, trailed by Atha padding softly behind her. Soon the sound of boxes and furniture being slid around, plus a few angry grumbles, filled the cottage. Finally she returned, bearing two dilapidated sneakers, ragged and torn. One of them sported luminous green laces, while the other’s laces were burned as black as charcoal.

“My sneakers!” exclaimed Kate. “I thought I’d lost them. I can’t believe you kept them for a whole year.”

“Just thought you might like to see them again.” She added with a grin, “Though for the life of me I’ll never understand how you could have let those nice green shoelaces get ruined.”

“It’s amazing, really. That the thing that brought me to my senses when Gashra was doing his best to trick me—was those stupid laces.”

The elder nodded. “Now that’s an impressive connection across time and space. Your grandfather would have loved to hear about it.”

Kate laughed out loud. “That’s for sure.”

“By the way, how did your hand heal?”

“Just fine, except for this little scar.”

Aunt Melanie took a peppermint from the abalone shell, popped it into her mouth, and offered one to her guest. “Here. Have one for the road.”

“The road? Are we going someplace?”

She crunched down on the peppermint, then swallowed. “Yes, dear. We’re going up to Lost Crater.”

“Really? Is there still time today?”

“Just enough. The road’s been paved. Of course, if you’d rather use the old ladder again, we could wait until tomorrow and go in that way.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Let’s take the road.”

Aunt Melanie smiled. “Somehow, that’s what I thought you’d say. Let’s go, then. There’s something in the redwood grove I want you to see. A surprise.” She gave Kate’s hand a squeeze. “And don’t worry. This time I’ll remember to bring matches.”

Soon Kate found herself walking with Aunt Melanie along a newly completed trail that started at the hole blasted one year ago in the wall of the crater, descended over the rocky slope and through the swamp, then wound its way deep into the Hidden Forest. Not so hidden anymore, Kate reflected, thinking of the large asphalt parking lot where Trusty sat next to a dozen other cars. Presently they came to a large painted sign saying:

Welcome to Cronon’s Crater Park, containing the northernmost stand of ancient redwood trees in existence. Please remain on the trail. Exploration of other parts of the crater is strictly prohibited until scientific studies are completed.

As they moved down the trail, Kate drank in the rich aromas, abundant sounds, and lush green growth of this forest. Mist curled through the branches above; needles padded the ground below. With every step deeper into the virgin woods, she felt embraced by the vibrant array of life around her. Embraced, it almost seemed, by friends. Yet she also felt queasy, even a little bit frightened, to confront the sawed-off tombstone of the great redwood.

At one point she heard a soft laughter beside her and turned to Aunt Melanie. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh,” she replied, “I was just thinking about that silly Chieftain. Imagine thinking peppermints are such a great delicacy.”

“I knew you’d get a kick out of that.”