Helix and the Arrival

by Damean Posner

  ‘Have you heard about the Gathering?’ I say to Ug.

  ‘No. What Gathering?’

  ‘Korg has decided to settle matters. Everyone from the mountain has been invited.’

  ‘Wow,’ says Ug. ‘That is heavy.’

  ‘Meet me at the speaking rock when you’re ready,’ I say.

  Ug nods at me. I leave him to be with his family.

  As I leave Ug’s cave, I notice a familiar pair walking along the Common Way, coming from the direction of the Dark Side. As they approach, Rex recognises me and hits his chest in a sign of greeting. ‘Helix,’ he says. ‘You’ve come to welcome us, I see.’

  I look down. ‘Hello, Rex.’ And then up. ‘Hello, Del. Welcome to Rockfall.’

  ‘So? Is this it?’ says Rex, who must be visiting Rockfall for the first time. ‘We were told it was glorious. Can’t see it, myself,’ he says, scratching his head.

  ‘You’re right. It’s just like the Dark Side, except without the views,’ I say.

  Rex and Del seem to like this comment of mine. Del reaches down and pats me on the head.

  ‘So when’s this Gathering starting?’ says Rex. ‘Maybe Korg will rethink the skintax.’

  Del is carrying a stone tablet with ‘No new skintaxes’ written on it. He lifts it above his head and shakes it in the air.

  ‘As you can see, we’re planning to make our wishes seen and heard,’ says Rex.

  ‘Good thinking,’ I say, even though I know there’ll be more important discussions taking place at this Gathering.

  There are more folk from the Dark Side arriving now – it looks like Tor has done a good job convincing them to come. I turn in the other direction and see an equally impressive stream of visitors coming from Newstone along the Common Way. I recognise Veldo and Mason, who are walking side-by-side. Veldo’s long arms shake wildly in the air and he rushes towards me. I wave and smile, happy to see a friendly face, but knowing that my smile is hiding a wriggling pit of worms in my stomach.

  ‘Helix! How are you?’ asks Veldo.

  ‘I’m good, thanks, Veldo,’ I say.

  ‘You remember Mason,’ he says.

  ‘Of course – Mason of the fern slugs.’

  Mason raises his boulder-like fist to his head and says, ‘Yar, it’s, like, a pleasure to see you again, young Helix.’

  ‘Do you know what’s happening, Helix?’ asks Veldo. ‘All we were, like, told, was that there was, like, an important Gathering and that everyone must attend.’

  The worms in my stomach are wriggling faster than ever now. ‘It’s about our future, I think. Everyone’s future on the mountain.’

  ‘Ooh, yar,’ says Veldo, fascinated. ‘Sounds like serious stuff.’

  It seems that every time I look around, someone else from either Newstone or the Dark Side arrives. The Dark Side folk are gathering in one huddle and the Newstone folk are in another. It’s not difficult to tell them apart: Newstone folk are chatting and laughing with their sculptured haircuts and neatly styled loincloths, while Dark Side folk are a mix of shapes, sizes and appearances, and bear a general look of distrust. The only one mingling is the white-haired girl. She is walking among the crowd, offering folk her meatcakes. I wonder if I should warn them …

  I feel a jab in my ribs and double over in pain.

  ‘Good morning,’ says Saleeka.

  ‘Hi, Saleeka,’ I say, rubbing my side.

  ‘Have you ever seen this many people in Rockfall?’

  I don’t reply. The more people that arrive, the more nervous I feel.

  ‘Helix, you know this is for the best,’ says Saleeka.

  ‘I suppose so,’ I say. ‘It’s just that I wasn’t expecting everyone to come.’

  Ug appears by my other side. ‘This is huge!’ he says.

  We make our way closer to the front, near the speaking rock. The horn sounds – Tor is blowing it from in front of Korg’s cave. Mountain folk know this means that the Gathering is about to start. There is a murmur among the crowd as Speel appears from his cave with Krike close behind. Speel’s one eye squints as if blinded by all the faces from Newstone and the Dark Side that he has never seen before. He appears nervous as he takes his first couple of steps. But then, as a cloud passes in front of the sun and a little bit of darkness descends, confidence – maybe even a smirk – takes over, and he strides towards the speaking rock, with Krike scurrying after him.

  Next, Korg emerges from his cave. He shuffles slowly, as if it pains him, with Tor by his side, holding him at the elbow. In one hand, Korg holds the long staff that he brings out only on special occasions. As he makes his way to the speaking rock, a hush comes over the crowd. It’s as if folk aren’t sure whether, with his feeble appearance, Korg will even make it to the rock at all. When Korg passes Speel, Speel bows his head in respect, but the look on his face is at odds with his action.

  Tor helps Korg up the steps to the top of the speaking rock, past Crag, who is standing at the bottom. Korg stands as tall as he can and looks out at the faces.

  I see Rex poke Del in the ribs, making him lift the ‘No new skintaxes’ sign above his head.

  Hushed chattering is spreading, and soon there’s too much noise for Korg to be heard. He scans the crowd one more time, slowly, then lifts his staff in the air and brings it down three times on the rock. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Silence.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘It is good to see so many faces. Welcome, especially, to those of you who have made the journey from elsewhere on the mountain. It is good of you to have come at such short notice.

  ‘I have called this meeting because I sense an uneasiness among you. As surely as the seasons change, we, as mountain folk, must make sure that we too change, and do not remain frozen in our beliefs. Ways change. People change. The world changes. What we know today may be proven false tomorrow, and the knowledge of the future is something we cannot even imagine.’

  He pauses to study the faces of those listening and watching, trying to gauge a reaction to his opening remarks. I think Del and Rex have realised that Korg isn’t going to be talking about the skintax. Del lowers the tablet and rests it on the ground.

  Korg continues. ‘We need to realise that we are merely one people in a larger world. Our future lies not solely on this mountain, but in places beyond – beyond even the river.’

  There is a murmur in the crowd. Suggesting that the future lies beyond the river is a bit like saying, ‘I suggest you all find the highest ledge on the mountain and take a running leap – trust me, it will all be fine.’

  ‘Knowledge is not something that should be guarded,’ Korg continues, ‘but something that should be explored and challenged.’

  He stops talking and looks out at the faces in the crowd. No one is cheering – but nor are they booing. If anything, there is an atmosphere of confusion and uncertainty. Korg’s words all mean something to me but to lots of folk, these are new concepts. These people have never been asked to think for themselves, and now they are being told to do so.

  ‘Thank you,’ says Korg. ‘Now I will let others speak.’

  He steps down from the speaking rock with the help of Crag and Tor. Speel barely waits for Korg to step down from the rock before he climbs the steps himself. With his arms spread wide, he says, ‘People of the mountain. You will always be the chosen ones and should never bow before those who are inferior to you.’

  Speel’s voice is louder than Korg’s and echoes off the mountain boulders.

  ‘Korg is right when he says that there needs to be a change in thinking. Of late, I have been disturbed to see some who would call themselves mountain folk seeking counsel from people of the lowlands.’

  Fearful whisperings hatch among the tightly formed groups. Speel is playing to their fears.

  ‘As for the idea that our future lies beyond the river, it sends a chill down my spine to think that the ways of the mountain might be poisoned by the primitive practices of those from the lowlands. This is the life we are in
viting upon ourselves if we choose to cross the river.’

  I search the crowd and see that Mum, Dad and Sherwin have their heads bowed. Are they just lost in thought, or are they feeling shamed because they are related to me, one of those who has crossed the river?

  I look to the folk from the Dark Side. Rex has a worried look on his face and is explaining something to Del. Spud is standing next to his mum and is rubbing his giant shoulder as though it’s aching. The white-haired girl has stopped offering her meatcakes around.

  In the Newstone group, Veldo is rubbing his head as if it’s throbbing, while Mason, beside him, has his arms crossed and appears to have shrunk, fearful of the world painted by Speel’s words.

  Speel is winning them over with fear and he knows it.

  ‘I will not stand by and watch our people sink into the lowland mud!’ he cries. ‘From this day on, you can look to me as your leader. I will protect you from the ravages of the lowlands and guard your path to the heavens. Are you with me, people of the mountain?’

  Many folk in the crowd are roaring in approval. Some are pumping their fists above their heads – I even spot a mother shaking a hairy baby in the air. Speel joins in and raises his arms in the air, too, claiming victory. He is declaring himself the next Korg.

  I see Korg the Magnificent standing between Crag and Tor. His eyes look heavy. Krike is just behind them, his small mouth smiling.

  At last, the noise dies down. ‘Thank you, good people of the mountain,’ says Speel. ‘Your reaction, I think we can say, speaks loudest of all.’

  ‘Wait!’ comes a Steckmanish-sounding voice from behind the speaking rock. ‘There are others who need to be heard, too!’

  Steckman’s words are followed by an impatient squeal.

  Speel spins around but is unable to identify where the voice or squeal has come from. He turns back to the crowd, scanning it with his one good eye, and says, pausing between each word, ‘Is there anyone else who wishes to be heard?’

  The Gathering falls silent.

  Korg turns my way. I look away from him but can sense that his eyes are fixed upon me.

  ‘Helix,’ says Saleeka, ‘it’s your turn.’

  I shake my head in fear.

  Ug grips my arm and squeezes. ‘Do it, Helix. Your time is now.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ But as I tell myself that there’s no way I’m getting up there to talk, my legs have other ideas and they take me, against my will, to the base of the rock.

  Speel looks down at me from above. He’s about to tell me to go away when he remembers that anyone is allowed to speak. ‘It appears that one of our caveboys wants to have his say,’ he says, laughing to the crowd.

  The crowd responds with laughter back at him … Or at me, perhaps.

  Speel steps down slowly from the rock, passing within a breath of me. As he goes by, he stares at me so intensely that I’m half-expecting his eyeball to jump out of its socket and roll down the mountain.

  There are still pockets of laughter in the crowd when I reach the top of the speaking rock. The crowd has listened to Korg the Magnificent and then Speel the Storykeeper, and now they are about to receive Helix, a caveboy who just failed his Arrival and is about to be banished to the Dark Side.

  I don’t know how to begin or what to say. The folk below are beginning to look annoyed. A moment ago, they were celebrating their new future. Now, my presence on the rock is making a mockery of them.

  ‘S-sorry,’ I say.

  An angry murmur is bubbling away in the crowd. Tor blows the horn for silence.

  ‘Quiet!’ says Crag. ‘Everyone is to be heard.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, as a moment’s quietness falls. ‘I just want to say that … that … that I’ve crossed the river and there’s nothing to be scared of.’

  I can hear Speel laughing below me. Others join in until there is a chorus of laughter, ranging from polite chuckles to one caveman laughing so hard that it looks as if his hairy stomach is about to detach itself from his body.

  It seems hopeless, but then I think of Herb: how could I make him proud at this moment?

  ‘Stop it!’ I say, louder than I had intended. My voice echoes off the mountain. Folk are so shocked to hear someone as unimportant as me shout at them that they are instantly quiet.

  ‘I have met the folk of the river and they are good, honest people. Yes, they eat food grown from the ground, but it tastes delicious. Yes, they live in roundhouses made of mud, but these houses are larger than they appear from the mountain and are even more comfortable than caves. And as for them being primitive, small-minded people – well, that’s a lie.’

  Some folk in the crowd are booing me. I’m half-expecting a rock to come flying my way. But I’ve made it this far, so I’m not going to stop.

  ‘You only believe these horrid things about the river people because of what you’ve been told. Let me ask you this: have any of you ever met a river person? Have you ever visited the lowlands and experienced what it is like? Have you ever eaten the food that the river folk make? And did you know that the lowlands have a proper name, Fenswell?’

  The booing is getting softer now – though maybe it’s just because folk are thinking of the best anthill to bury me in.

  ‘And as for the Dark Side – you can see from those who have come to this Gathering today that folk from the Dark Side don’t need to be feared. And if you ever visit the Dark Side, like I have –’ there’s another gasp from the crowd ‘– you’ll probably not want to leave because the views there are like nothing else!’

  I stop talking. There’s a lot for everyone to take in. Speel is searching the crowd with his eye, willing them to boo, hiss or throw a rock at me.

  I continue. ‘The only reason you believe what you do is because it has supposedly been written on the sacred tablets. But the truth is that the world beyond the mountain is much less scary than you’ve been taught.’

  ‘Enough!’ shouts Speel. ‘Lies! Foolish lies!’

  ‘And some say that there is no Land’s End!’ I shout. ‘And that the world continues on as far as the eye can see.’

  ‘Sacrilege!’ cries Speel. ‘Remove him!’ he says, looking to Crag and Tor.

  ‘How can we know for sure that there is a Land’s End when we haven’t seen for ourselves?’ I say in desperation now.

  I glance down and see that many in the crowd are looking angry. They are on Speel’s side and are casting vengeful looks at me for daring to cricitise their beliefs.

  But from somewhere behind them, bodies are being pushed aside, making way for …

  Ugthorn!

  Folk are looking at him as though he’s risen from the dead. As he walks, he holds his injured side. He looks pale and sunken – he has lost a lot of weight – yet he is still the man he always was.

  Ugthorn reaches the front of the crowd and stands at the base of the speaking rock. I can see that it hurts him to talk, but his voice has a strength that reaches through the crowd, and his great height means that he is a head above everyone so can be seen by all.

  ‘Folk of the mountain, the boy speaks the truth. I stand before you thanks to medicine from the lowlands, medicine that came from the river people. It saved my life.’

  ‘Lies!’ cries Speel, but he takes a backwards step as Crag and Tor lean menacingly in his direction.

  ‘For too long we have closed our minds to the world beyond Rockfall and the mountain,’ says Ugthorn. ‘Let the boy finish what he was saying, and do not let fear rule your reason.’ Ugthorn’s strong eyes turn towards me, urging me to continue.

  ‘I’m not saying,’ I continue, ‘that you need to set off tomorrow, cross the river and make friends with a river person. But how about, for starters, getting to know your fellow mountain folk? Visit somewhere new: Newstone has beautiful big caves, the Dark Side has the most wonderful views, and Rockfall … well, Rockfall is … is easy to get to because it’s in the middle,’ I say, scratching my head.

  I spot Dad with his thumbs up
, nodding at me. He’s thinking of torism.

  ‘I’m not saying that I know everything … In fact, I don’t know that much – I’m just a caveboy, after all. But what I can say for sure is that the world beyond our caves is worth visiting. If we spend the rest of our lives on this mountain, if we let our beliefs be ruled by fear, then one day we will fade away as a people.’

  ‘He’s right!’ screeches Saleeka.

  ‘I want to know what’s written on the tablets!’ yells someone from the Dark Side huddle.

  ‘We want better food!’ cries someone from Newstone.

  ‘No more skintaxes,’ screams Rex.

  ‘Torism is the future!’ booms Dad.

  Excited pockets of conversation sprout up among the crowd – and they’re not just between those who know each other, but between folk who have never met. Smartly dressed folk from Newstone are talking to odd-looking folk from the Dark Side. They’re beginning to mingle and form a single group.

  Speel goes to step back up onto the speaking rock but Tor sticks his arm out to block his path.

  ‘You’ve had your chance to talk,’ says Crag.

  I look around. Dad is introducing himself to strangers as the father of the boy on the rock, and making special mention of torism to everyone he meets; Steckman has appeared from behind the speaking rock and is trying to inform a small group of men that Porgo is not for eating; Ug and his family are embracing Ugthorn; Saleeka is whistling with joy and shaking her arms above her head; and … no … is that Sherwin talking to the white-haired meatcake girl? It is!

  ‘Wait!’ comes a voice from the crowd … a voice that sounds a lot like my mother’s.

  Oh no.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I mime, making a there’s-no-need-to-say-anything hand gesture. But there’s no stopping Mum when she wants to be heard.

  ‘It’s all very good that we’ve solved world peace up here today, but what about my son’s Arrival? He might not have come back with a sabre-tooth, but he’s achieved quite a lot in the past few days and I, for one, am very proud of him.’ She dabs her eyes with a skinkerchief.