by Karen Prince
“I am going to dive down and have a look,” he said, starting to remove his trousers.
“What for we want this thing, Ethan,” Jimoh said, dismissing the idea.
“Jimoh! The stones are valuable,” Ethan said.
“Then he belong to someone, Ethan. Is stealing. Stones like money, they do not grow together all in one place like this. You have to dig them. Someone, he put these stones here.” Jimoh rubbed the back of his neck.
“Jimoh, do you remember Salih told us we might have to trade to get Joe back? Well, this is the perfect thing,” Ethan pleaded. “Even if we don’t have to pay to get Joe back, we could keep them. Just think how much you can uplift your village with this stash. We could run electricity there. You could have computers, TV, build proper houses. Besides, there are piles – no one would notice if we took some.”
Jimoh looked at Ethan as if he was out of his mind. “Tjalotjo happy with houses we have got, Ethan. We build ourselves, from nature.” He shook his head. “Cement for city... TV also.” Then his eyes widened. “What if stones evil, like Gogo Maya stones?”
“No! No. Jimoh. I don’t think Gogo Maya’s stones are evil,” Ethan said. “Look at me! There is the healing and I am so strong now.”
“Also reckless, Ethan, and greedy, I am noticing.” Jimoh wet his lips, and then gave a nod of assent. “But you are right, maybe is only way to save Joe.” He took his hat off his head and twirled it nervously in his hands before him, ready to dive.
“Not so fast, Jimoh, it’s very deep.” Ethan did not want Jimoh to drown, or get the bends from diving too deep. He wasn’t that sure how deep they would have to go before they got decompression sickness. Ethan had seen divers on TV drop down with a weight to make the descent faster, and come up slowly, in stages, to stabilise the nitrogen buildup in their bodies caused by the pressure of all the water above them. Come to think of it, they also used scuba-diving equipment, but he was just going to have to do without. If one of them was going down, he decided, it had better be him. He was beginning to suspect that he could hold his breath for longer than usual because he had done it when facing off with the hippopotamus. He realised he had done it at the Crystal Pools too. There was no time to explain all that to Jimoh before the crocodiles returned. Feeling only slightly guilty about his subterfuge, Ethan said, “I think it is safer for me to go down because of the amulet magic.” He folded Jimoh’s hat under his arm and searched the ledge for a suitable rock to use as a weight.
It was too dark down there to see properly what he was doing, so he dug Jimoh’s hat in under the pebbles and gathered up whatever stones lay on the floor, then floated warily upwards through the water, stopping twice and treading water as he had seen on TV. He rushed the last five metres or so because his lungs were fit to burst, but a quick check of his limbs revealed that his body was none the worse for the dive.
Amun and Darwishi lurked, waiting for him on the surface, and before Ethan could take stock of his haul, Darwishi took the hat gently in his mouth and started to tip the contents back into the pool. Jimoh spoke rapidly to him in Shona and, amazingly, he stopped.
Ethan whipped round to stare at Jimoh. “You can talk to the crocodiles? They speak Shona?”
Jimoh laughed. “Not like you and Salih, Ethan. More like... dog. But better. Sometime he do what I want. If he want same thing.”
Ethan tried his luck. He explained to Darwishi, more slowly and elaborately than was probably necessary, “I hope you don’t mind. We need the gems to get our friend back. If you want, I will put them back in the water again.”
Darwishi, not all that expressive at the best of times, appeared not to care either way, but he let go of the hat. After a moment, Ethan picked it up and started to stash the gems into his pockets. A quick glimpse at the stones told him he had scooped up more than he had bargained for. “They’re not just semi-precious crystals,” he said with a sharp intake of breath. “They’re emeralds and tanzanite! And...” He pocketed them more quickly, in case Darwishi changed his mind.
Climbing on to the backs of the crocodiles both boys took a deep breath in preparation for the dive through the tunnel. Ethan almost gasped for air as Darwishi dove beneath the water. A searing sensation struck his temples, as if he were passing through eucalyptus oil or concentrated mint. Then a vision of a dangerous looking dragon flashed into his head, hanging there for several terrifying moments.
It had one sharp rhinoceros horn sweeping back from the middle of its snout, one from its forehead, and an even bigger one on the top of its head. A row of horns decorated each of its brow ridges. All sloping backwards like greenish flames caught in suspended animation and petrified to look like stone. Slanted eyes stared red and angry.
Then, just as suddenly the image was gone and Ethan knew it had been sent to him by Amun or Darwishi. Was that an early warning of what the Sobek change into, or were they just trying to frighten him? And if so, why? After they’d been so friendly and helpful all the way from Crystal Pool, were him and Jimoh about to be eaten?
15
The Source of the Magic
Darwishi pulled Ethan swiftly through the under water passage, and he had only become slightly worried about his next breath when the end of the tunnel lightened and he braced himself to plunge into yet another pool. He was quite taken aback when they emerged smoothly, still underwater, and burst up to the surface to find themselves in an underground cave. He took a deep breath and tried to orientate himself before staring open-mouthed at the immensity of the cavern.
Rocks, the size of houses, lay scattered along the water’s edge, fallen from a hole in the massive vaulted ceiling. A shaft of sunlight beamed down through a lacy fringe of long dangling vines. Giant stalactites clung to the ceiling like petrified stone icicles. Ethan felt almost as if he had shrunk.
“Look, Ethan!” Jimoh pointed skywards. Swallows darted in and out of the brilliant shaft of sunlight, so far up, and so small, they could have been mistaken for butterflies.
An eerie light reflected off the surface of the underground river. Puddles of petrol-coloured liquid floating on the water beside him, absorbed sunlight, held it for a heartbeat, pulsing with an ethereal glow, and then released it back into the atmosphere. Ethan was strangely drawn towards it. He sliced his hand slowly through the nearest puddle, dispersing the liquid, feeling the iciness of it against his hand. He watched it ripple apart into smaller puddles and then drift together again to be reabsorbed like mercury. He snatched his hand away at the thought, hoping it wasn’t poisonous like mercury. A slight smell of tinned pears wafted off it into the air.
“We must find Tariro and Fisi,” Jimoh beckoned, applying pressure to Amun’s left flank with his knee and Amun turned away from the sunlight towards the gloomy interior. Was Jimoh riding the crocodile like a horse now? It wouldn’t surprise Ethan, but he was not about to test it himself. Darwishi would probably bite his leg off. He wondered if the crocodile was angry with him, or disappointed about the gemstones. He could tell nothing from Darwishi’s stony expression.
The underground river was deep and slow flowing. It emptied into a lake in a cavern, even larger than the one before. The light from Ethan’s headlamp barely penetrated its vastness, and, if anything, seemed to make the cavern behind look even darker.
Jimoh spotted the others first. They were waiting on the edge of the lake, surrounded by a number of burly-looking people carrying lit fire-torches. Thankfully, there was no sign of the frightening dragon Ethan imagined earlier.
He scrambled off Darwishi’s back and waded through the shallow water towards them. Close up, the Sobek people had a powerful, muscular look about them, with dark ochre-coloured skin and viridian green eyes that flashed in the flickering torchlight. Some looked hairless or had shaved heads, and some wore pitch-black wigs that looked as if they were made out of raffia, which fell in a multitude of plaits to just below their shoulders. They wore layers of wildly patterned, colourful kangas like swimming towels, which seemed ap
propriate with so much water about. The men wore them tied around their waists, and the women wore them tucked up under their armpits. Single polished gems, mostly topaz or garnet, the size of pigeon eggs dangled from leather thongs strung around the men’s necks. Some of the men wore deep red or blue opaque gems with a six-rayed star that reflected from their depths when they caught the light. Ethan wondered if there was any social significance or hierarchy symbolised by the gems they were wearing, or if they were just a personal choice.
A man crushed Ethan’s hand in a vice-like grip, hauling him out of the water as if expecting something much heavier, and spilled him onto the bank. He rumbled something in a voice so deep Ethan could hardly make out what he was saying. His square, short face crinkled into a benign smile and he removed the shocking pink outermost Kanga from around his own waist and offered it to Ethan. The man appeared to have several layers underneath, in a kaleidoscope of patterns and colours – gaudy, even in the gloom of the cave.
“Thank you,” Ethan said. He was not sure he wanted to wear the man’s Kanga but Tariro already wore a similarly donated bright kanga, so he guessed that was the polite thing to do. After wrapping it securely around his waist, he wriggled out of his cargo pants underneath, then rolled them into a ball and gripped them under his arm, acutely aware of his own gems hidden in the pockets.
Pulling Ethan roughly towards himself, despite Ethan’s reluctance, Tariro gave him a hug. “As usual, you two took so long, Ethan, we thought you had drowned. Not that we would miss you, but I have grown rather fond of Jimoh.” He put an arm around Jimoh’s neck, pulling his head down into an arm lock, spilling his sopping wet hat onto the floor, and ruffled his hair with a fist. “Fisi didn’t have a great crossing,” he added, cocking his head towards the back of the group of men. Ethan opened his mouth to protest. He had not taken a long time. He had hardly run out of breath. But when he looked in the direction Tariro indicated he frowned worriedly.
Fisi looked terrible. He walked over unsteadily, smoothing back his bedraggled brindle hair. The deep growl in the back of his throat adjusted itself into a hawking and spitting as he advanced.
“I ran out of air,” he complained. He mimicked Tariro by hugging first Jimoh, and then Ethan, his gesture stiff, his eyes darting warily from Sobek to Sobek. Ethan wondered if Fisi had been frightened by his underwater swim or if he had a reason to be afraid of the Sobek. Could Salih have misplaced his trust? Should they all be afraid of the Sobek? He stifled a shiver when he thought of the dragon.
The crowd parted and a thickset man in a white linen kanga with shiny gold tassels, wandered forward in no particular hurry. Hanging from around his neck was a splendid gold breastplate in the shape of a stylised hawk. Its wings spread-eagled across his chest, each feather intricately carved and inlaid with jewels, each talon gripping a ruby the size of an eagle egg.
Ethan shrank back involuntarily, tightening his grip on his rolled up cargo pants. He wondered if those rubies had come from the sinkhole. Then he pulled himself together and stood beside Salih while the man inspected each one of them for a long while, his thin black crocodile pupils narrowing disconcertingly at the exact moment Ethan hoped he would not find out about the gems he’d stolen. Could it have been a coincidence? The man’s eyes shifted to Tariro, who gazed back at his breastplate in stunned awe.
He glanced almost dismissively over Fisi before coming to rest on Jimoh. Such a powerful ripple of excitement and pleasure passed over the man, that Ethan stifled a small gasp and reached out a hand to grip Salih, wondering if Jimoh were in danger, but Salih looked unafraid, and Jimoh appeared not to have felt it at all.
The man turned immediately towards Ethan, as if to allay any fears. “I am Kashka,” he said evenly. Ethan found, if he cocked his head just slightly, he could almost make out the words. Salih translated anyway.
Ethan stepped forward and held his hand out, bracing for another forceful, finger-crushing grip. “I am Ethan,” he said, turning to introduce the others, but Salih interrupted.
“He knows that, Ethan. That is what he has been finding out since he came in. He hears every thought that passes through your head. They all do.”
Oh drat, thought Ethan, trying desperately not to think of gems, or bloodletting. No wonder Fisi had been so jumpy. He wondered what the hyena youth had to hide. Kashka smiled, momentarily revealing faint traces of the green and grey markings of crocodile in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t say anything about gems, or offer any comment on what he had read in Fisi, just motioned for everyone to follow him.
Kashka herded them to the back of the cavern where they climbed up a flight of steps into a narrow tunnel. The boys and Salih looked curiously from side to side as they passed by a row of subterranean caves, each with a fire pit in the middle and a chimney funnel leading up to the surface overhead. Hundreds of small square scraps of reflective metal hung down, catching and multiplying the sunlight as it shone down through the funnels. Cave paintings and murals decorated almost every wall.
Some caves had clay shelves running along one or two of their walls where Sobek people and a few crocodiles lounged on pallets chatting to one another or playing a complicated-looking game with sticks and stones. Kashka turned in to a cave with four small alcoves scooped out of a wall about waist height off the ground. Bedrolls, in the same colourful cottons as their Kangas, were stacked neatly in each alcove. Three walls were decorated with murals depicting scenes that looked remarkably like Tjalotjo village and Crystal Pools. A large cartoon mahobohobo tree loomed over a cartoon pool, with a set of rapids and an unmistakable baobab tree in the distance. Even the intricate map depicted beside it looked familiar.
Ethan watched as Jimoh ran his finger over an illustration, which could easily have been himself in his hat. “Who does painting?” he asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
Kashka adjusted his voice a couple of octaves higher and spoke a little faster. “Each clan paints its own area,” he said. His rich, low tone still boomed around the cavern, but was a lot easier to follow.
He motioned for the boys to take a seat on the floor after unloading their backpacks beside the remainder of their equipment, which had been stacked neatly in a corner of the cave by a Sobek.
“They get the oxide from merchant vessels on the larger rivers when they travel,” Kashka continued, once they had seated themselves around him. “They go off into the world from time to time in crocodile form in pairs or in groups and when they return they paint the story of their travels for future generations.”
From Salih’s sharp intake of breath, Ethan got the feeling he was surprised that the Sobek came and went so freely without him and his witch friends even knowing it.
“Amun and Darwishi will add to these paintings once they have changed back into their man form. They have been studying the people at Crystal Pool,” Kashka explained.
Young men and women, carrying wooden bowls piled high with fish and some sort of dried root vegetable, interrupted his narration just long enough for Ethan to whisper a warning to Tariro that Kashka and the rest of the Sobek could read his mind.
“You mean they have been hanging around Crystal Pools reading everyone’s minds all this time?” Tariro gasped, his face a picture of horror. Ethan grinned. He could not tell if Tariro was more shocked at the thought of having his mind read, or if he had just discovered that the beautifully presented fish he had just bitten into was completely raw. Ethan had to admit, Tariro could be very entertaining when he wasn’t vying for Joe’s attention all the time – quite likeable even.
“Yes, and infusing the pool with health and well-being in exchange,” Kashka said, a little sternly, but without malice.
While Kashka explained how the magic they’d seen floating on the surface of the water was absorbed by the crocodiles and slowly released into the water at Crystal Pools for the benefit of all who swam there, in exchange for the privilege of studying them – a long standing arrangement from many years ago – Salih
took the opportunity to have a private conversation with Ethan.
“I believe you have taken some stones,” he said, his expression set for scolding.
Ethan tightened his grip on his rolled up cargo pants guiltily. “We took them in the hope of ransoming Joe.” He swallowed and looked Salih straight in the eye. “You said yourself, we would probably have to give them something. We did offer to put them back.” He was about to start emptying his pocket to return the gems to Kashka but the Sobek’s hand shot out and covered Ethan’s to stop him. Kashka shifted his voice an octave lower again and rumbled deeply and unintelligibly to Salih.
“Stop!” Salih flashed a warning at Ethan. “You must not show the gems to the other boys. Kashka knows why you took them. He says it is not up to him whether you keep them or not. The gems do not belong to the Sobek.” Salih’s pupils narrowed to thin slits and his tail swished anxiously. “He says it was very brave of you to steal them from the Mokele Mbembe. I have heard of this thing, Ethan, and it is very dangerous, even for me.”
Ethan knew without asking that the Mokele Mbembe was the dragon-like creature that had flashed into his mind in the sinkhole. So that was what Darwishi had been trying to tell him.
An expression that might have been fear crossed Salih’s face when Ethan remembered the thing. “Yes!” he confirmed. “Apparently, he is asleep in one of the tunnels at the moment but if he had been awake there would have been an accounting. As it is, he will go in search of his treasures when he wakes up. Kashka says, even though the treasure looks like many, Mokele Mbembe knows each stone intimately. He will be able to tell if some are missing and will be able to track them down.”