The Ancient One (14 page)

Ayah-ho ayah-ho
Tlah hontseh na hoh-ah
Ayah-ho Ayah-ho
Heyowe halma-dru.

Gradually, gradually, her cares melted into the mist and she thought only of the present, of glowing cliffs encircling her, of blue waters gently lapping, of voices strange and sonorous. The night-sky eyes of Laioni saw her nodding off, and she quietly came to guide Kate to her bed of soft grass in the brush hut.

Kate felt like someone both dreaming and waking at once. It seemed almost as if Aunt Melanie had appeared in a younger form to put her to sleep, to tuck her in gently and whisper good-night, just as she had done so often when Kate was a child.

XII:
T
HE
T
IME
T
UNNEL

A chain saw buzzed, quite near her head. Kate woke up with a start.

She found herself sandwiched inside the brush hut, with Laioni on one side and the old woman on the other. Laioni’s mother was nowhere to be seen. Monga lay curled up outside the entrance. Then the buzzing noise came again, and Kate realized that it was only the eider Halami snoring.

All at once, her worldly concerns came crashing back. She reached for the walking stick, lying at the entrance to the hut, and pulled it to her chest. How stupid to have tried to fetch this stick alone! Aunt Melanie should have warned her, though most likely she didn’t know herself of the danger. And now she was here, thrown back five hundred years in time. Worse yet, she had not even a clue how to get home.

She gazed at the indecipherable etchings carved deep into the wooden shaft. The owl’s head on the handle gazed back at her, unwilling to reveal its secrets. There must be some way to make it come alive again, Kate told herself. Less for her own sake than for Aunt Melanie’s. She needed help, and soon. Kate could feel it, as vividly as she could feel the chain saws about to rip into the trunk of the Ancient One.

Then, like a slap in the face, she realized the true depth of her dilemma. She had traveled back in time inside of the great redwood, whose life reached from this time all the way to her own. If that tree were cut and killed, could she still get back at all? Even if she could solve the riddle of the walking stick’s power, if the medium connecting her to the future did not exist anymore, she would be stranded. She struggled to remember the theory about time tunnels. Something about places where living things can grow undisturbed for a very long time . . . So if one of those places is suddenly disturbed, let alone demolished, what happens to the time tunnel?

She lowered the stick, knowing well the answer. Her thoughts then turned again to Jody. Troublesome as he was, he was lost in this strange time just like herself. She pondered what could have happened to him. Perhaps he had somehow wandered off, only to end up at the bottom of some Halami pit. Perhaps he had been removed from the tree by force. There was no way to know.

Stretching, she crawled out of the brush hut onto the stony ground. Although the sun had not yet topped the ridge of cliffs, a diffuse early morning light filled the crater. Across the meadow, birds fluttered and chirped in the branches of the mighty trees. The lake sent up wispy trails of mist, obscuring the black island completely. She heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see Laioni’s mother emerging from the forest with a handful of skunk cabbage and a sprig of wild iris, the flower Aunt Melanie liked to call blue flag.

Yesterday’s fear still written on her face, the woman glanced nervously at the walking stick, then acknowledged Kate with a nod of her head. Her eyes, not so dark as Laioni’s, looked at the purple kerchief tied around Kate’s hand, stained with blood from the day before. “
H’ona tu-wan teh
,” she said in a low voice.

Kate did not understand, but instinctively pulled her hand to her side. She sat on a nearby rock, watching the woman clean the broad cabbage leaves and the root of the flower in the stream, singing softly as she worked. Then she dangled them over the hot coals of the fire pit for a minute, warming them, before crushing them between two stones. At last, she scraped the moist mass onto her hand and carried it over to Kate.

Keeping an eye on the walking stick, the Halami woman gently lifted Kate’s bandaged hand. Ever so delicately, she unwound the kerchief, exposing the tender skin to the air. As Kate winced, she applied the poultice to the spot, chanting some rhythmic words.

Almost instantly, Kate felt a soothing sensation. Despite its pungent smell, the healing substance dulled the pain while sinking into her raw skin. Laioni’s mother quickly doused the purple kerchief in the water, then wrapped it again around her hand, weaving the ends together securely. She ceased chanting just as the sun edged above the cliffs.

Laioni emerged from the tent. She eyed Kate mischievously and did an imitation of the old woman’s snore before bursting into a giggle. Kate laughed as well, for the moment forgetting her troubles. Monga pranced around the fire pit, bouncing on his scruffy brown legs.

Laioni and her mother then exchanged some sentences, indicating the wounded hand as they spoke. Laioni’s mother, clearly concerned about something, tried to ask Kate a question, pointing first to the hand and then to the walking stick. Not comprehending, Kate could only shake her head. More than ever, she longed to return to her own time.

Then Laioni decided to try. She gestured toward the stick, then staggered back a few steps as though she had encountered something of great power. Next she touched her own left hand, wincing as though in pain. She brought the hand nearer to the stick, whereupon her expression changed to satisfaction.

At last, Kate understood. They could not fathom why, possessing the special strength of the walking stick, she had not healed her own hand. How could she explain to them she didn’t know how to use it? Then an idea took shape in her mind.

Holding the stick in both hands so they might see the many intricate carvings on the shaft, Kate twirled it slowly in her palms. Finally, she laid it across her lap and began making various faces and gestures designed to show ignorance, confusion, uncertainty. Between each pantomime, she pointed to the stick.

Only bewilderment registered on the Halamis’ faces. Determined, Kate tried again, running through any expression she could think of that could possibly convey her problem.

Still there was no communication. Exasperated, Kate pointed to the confused faces of Laioni and her mother, exclaiming, “That’s how I feel. Don’t you see?”

A light seemed to kindle in Laioni’s eyes. She chattered something to her mother, who grew suddenly somber. The woman pointed to the stick, indicating the full length of the shaft, then turned her gaze back to Kate. The look of fear in her face had deepened.

“That’s right,” blurted Kate, her vision growing misty. “I don’t know how to use it.” She looked to the sky and raised her hands in despair. “Who can help me?” she cried. “Who can help me?”

The Halami woman stared at her for a long moment. Then she uttered a single word, so softly Kate could barely hear it. “
Azanna
,” she said. “
Azanna
.” Then she stepped quickly away to the other side of the fire pit, dragging Laioni by the arm.

Azanna
, repeated Kate to herself. The word sounded vaguely familiar. She knew she had heard it before, but where? It doesn’t matter, she shrugged sadly. Just another Halami word.

Dejectedly, she lifted herself from the rock. Laioni was arguing with her mother about something, but Kate was not interested. She swung the walking stick angrily. With a sharp crack, its base whacked against the stone.

All at once, she remembered. Kate could hear Aunt Melanie’s voice telling her the meaning of
Azanna
, speaking hesitantly in the hollow of the tree. To learn more about the stick, to have even a chance of going home, she knew she must return to the Circle of Stones.

XIII:
T
HE
C
IRCLE
OF
S
TONES

Striding around the foggy perimeter of the lake, Kate tightened the knot of the kerchief around her hand. Fear of the deadly green pool rose within her as she stepped over rivulets running down from the cliffs. Aunt Melanie had said that its spell would work only once. Yet Kate now existed in an earlier time, so perhaps the pool’s curse would call her still more strongly. She grasped the walking stick tightly, as a climber grasps a safety rope. Almost as dreadful as the green pool, in her mind, were those seven stones themselves. Something about them haunted her, something more than their sheer size. They had seemed eerily aware of her presence, almost as if they were alive.

Before turning to ascend the rocky slope, she stooped to pick up a small piece of pumice and hurled it into the lake. Though fog obscured its landing place, she heard a distant splash. Somewhere across the water was the Halami camp she had left so abruptly, not even staying to have some breakfast. She recalled the faces of Laioni and her mother, one crestfallen to see her go, the other clearly relieved. She picked up another of the light stones and threw it in the same direction. To her surprise, this time there was no splash. All she could hear was the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

She did not linger to learn what had happened. Perhaps it had landed on the island, although that begged the question of why the first stone had hit water instead. Unless the island really could move . . . No, that was impossible. Looking up the slope to her right, she could see the misty outline of the ribbed formation that rose out of the cliff wall behind the Circle of Stones. But the Circle itself remained invisible.

Turning her back to the lake, she started clambering up the rocky incline. As before, she was forced to use her hands to pull herself higher. Suddenly, she heard a clatter of rocks falling not far behind her. She whirled around.

“Laioni!”

The Halami girl struggled up the slope to meet her. Just behind, pouncing from rock to rock, Kate could see a familiar shaggy, brown shape. Stretching below them, a curling cloud rolled across the lake. At length the pair arrived, panting heavily.

Kate shook her head. “You shouldn’t come,” she said sternly, waving Laioni back.

The girl set her jaw firmly and looked straight at Kate. It was clear she did not want to go back.

“But it’s dangerous up there,” insisted Kate. “Go back now, while you can.”

Laioni didn’t budge. Instead, she held out her hand, which was full of dried seeds. She took a mouthful, then offered the rest to Kate.

She not only looks like Aunt Melanie, thought Kate. She’s just as stubborn. Frowning, she took a swallow of the seeds but didn’t taste them. Then she continued climbing the slope, motioning to Laioni to stay behind her.

As the ground at last began to level off, Kate caught a glimpse of the great boulders. Their cracked and blistered surfaces loomed ominously, half hidden by the swirling mist. They seemed to change constantly as she approached them, like huge faces moving back and forth between light and shadow. Kate eyed the spot, at the base of the smallest of the enormous stones, where she knew she would find the bubbling green pool. Sucking in her breath, she prepared to confront it.

To her astonishment, the pool was bubbling, but not green. Cautiously, Kate drew nearer to see only a natural bowl of boiling water, fed by the same small rivulet where Aunt Melanie had scrubbed her hand so relentlessly. The pool bubbled and splattered like the clearest of hot springs, devoid of any aroma but the faint smell of sulfur. Somehow, the evil spell had vanished. Or, Kate realized all of a sudden, it had not yet arrived.

Straightening herself, she scanned the collection of giant stones. Mist moved slowly over their deeply lined surfaces. Behind the bubbling pool, she saw a narrow passageway between the smallest boulder, which was roughly the size of a pickup truck, and the boulder next to it, which was as broad and bulky as a barn. She knew that the passageway would lead her into the center of the Circle, but she hesitated.
They’re watching you
, said the voice of Aunt Melanie in her memory, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She stood there, motionless as stone herself, searching for the strength to step into the passageway. Just then, she heard someone breathing beside her.

It was Laioni, her face full of awe to stand before
Azanna
, the Circle of Stones. Without turning from the boulders, she slipped her hand into Kate’s. This gesture by the girl with Aunt Melanie’s eyes gave Kate an unexpected surge of courage. Yet she also found herself all the more keenly aware that the true Aunt Melanie was far, far away. And, she knew in her bones, Aunt Melanie needed her help.

Side by side and hand in hand, they walked past the pool and between the two great cracked boulders. His head low to the ground, Monga followed at their heels. On their left, the gray wall of the larger boulder rose high above their heads, while on their right, the surface of the smaller boulder was coated with an undulating skin of mist. They spoke not a word, nor did Monga make a sound, as they passed through the channel.

Finally, they emerged and stepped into the middle of the Circle. Standing together, their clothing as unlike as their worlds, Kate and Laioni slowly pivoted as if greeting all seven of the stones. Each of them had a distinct shape, though all shared the same blistered gray texture. The shifting mist swirled thickly around them, making the giant boulders seem like one enormous unbroken ring of rock.

When the visitors had turned a complete, circle, they stopped. Not knowing what else to do, Kate let go of Laioni’s hand and said aloud, “I am—we are—here, Great Circle. For your help. If you really are watching like my Aunt Melanie said, if you can hear me somehow, then won’t you do something to show us? Please. See, you’re my only hope.”

They waited for several minutes, but no response came. More fog flowed into the ring until all they could see of the boulders were dark shadows hovering behind a cloudy curtain. Kate felt sheepish for trying to communicate with, of all things, rocks. Even gigantic rocks. Things were different here in Lost Crater, but not that different. She shrugged, looking sadly toward Laioni, whose eyes showed only empathy.