They seemed to be high up in a glade of crowding evergreens. The air was cold and sweet with a forest fragrance, and alive with birdsong and the chuckle and gurgle of water running over rocks. Turning, he saw a small brook that came down out of the shadows in a series of crystal pools. In the deep blue of the valley far below he was aware of the wild rush of a larger stream. As he raised his eyes to a break in the foliage, he gasped at the sight of a great forested mountain slowly vanishing in a veil of mist.
“Like it?” said Father O'Day, lifting a frying pan and a coffeepot from the trunk of the car.
Tia nodded, and Tony said, “It's great! Where—where are we?”
“You might call it the backyard of an old fellow I know. He lives on the other side of the mountain, but I have permission to camp here whenever I wish.”
The priest drew soap and towels from the trunk. “Take your pick of the pools, and get yourselves cleaned up. By the time you're through, dinner will be ready.”
“B-but don't you need our help?”
“Not this evening. You've been on the run for three days. You'll be surprised how much better a bath and a change of clothes will make you feel.”
Tony, after he had chosen his pool and stripped off his dirty clothing, was astounded at the icy coldness of the water. Presently, after he had rubbed down and changed to a clean shirt and jeans from his bag, his shivering stopped. Now, as he smelled the woodsmoke, he was suddenly aware of the overpowering aroma of food being cooked over a campfire.
It was corned beef hash, enough of it to have served twice their number. Before they ate, Father O'Day gave a heartfelt prayer.
“Heavenly Father,” the big man began, ''we thank you for giving us sanctuary for the night. Please forgive the foolish, the ignorant, and the greedy who have beset us, and help us to solve the tangled problem that has brought us so far. Amen.”
It was black dark when they finished eating, and the fire had died to a glowing mass of coals. The priest tossed a few sticks upon the embers, and in the light of their burning the pans were cleaned, and tarpaulins, camp mattresses, and blankets were spread around the fire.
“Before we have our powwow,” the priest said, “I think we'd better rest a bit. Frankly, it's been quite a day.”
Tony, wearily drawing a blanket about him, was asleep before his head touched the mattress.
When he awoke, hours later, the clock he instantly visualized told him that it was after three in the morning. It was about the same time, he remembered, that he had wakened in the barn when the bears came. Was it only yesterday? So much had happened that it seemed like days and days had gone by…
Suddenly he remembered Uncle Bené. He raised up and glanced quickly over at Tia, hoping she was awake. By the vague light of the stars that came through the break in the foliage, he could make out her huddled form. She was still asleep, apparently clutching Winkie, for he could hear a soft purring coming from the blanket. In spite of his eagerness to find out all about Uncle Bené, he did not have the heart to disturb her.
As he realized by the steady breathing on the other side of him that Father O'Day was also asleep, Tony's mind turned to Witch Mountain. Earlier, on the way to camp, he'd visualized the place, but had seen only another sprawling mountain, half shrouded in mist, rising above a deep gorge where a stream ran white over boulders. Now, hopefully, he managed to picture it again, but not the faintest light broke its expanse of darkness. It did look sort of haunted, though.
Haunted? No, he told himself, the place wasn't haunted, and there were no such things as witches. Unless—and the skin on his neck prickled at the thought—he and Tia really did belong to the witch tribe. But that couldn't be true. And he'd better forget the story he'd overheard at the bridge. It was just a lot of superstitious bunk, the sort of thing that ignorant people were always imagining. Probably there never had been anyone living on Witch Mountain, and if he had any sense he'd put the whole thing out of his mind.
Only, there'd been that part about the witches returning—at about the time he and Tia were trying to escape and come here with Uncle Bené. And there was that mention of lights and music. Music?…
Unconsciously Tony reached for his harmonica and raised it to his lips. As he breathed softly into it, and a little sadly, he wondered what kind of music his people would have played—if there had been music on the mountain, and if it had been his people who had played it. Probably it would have been forest music—the kind he could hear all about him now in the chirp of crickets, the song of the brook, and the mysterious little movements of unknown forest creatures that he was aware of all about him.
The melody that began to flow from his harmonica blended with the brook's song and the whisper of the night wind. Leaves played tag overhead, and two rabbits ventured into the starlit glade. They were followed by another and another; as the music continued, still larger listeners appeared—several does with fawns who ringed the glade, enthralled by this curious and lovely magic of the night.
Then abruptly the spell was broken by a very human cough. In a flash all the listening creatures vanished in the shadows. Grumbling, Father O'Day sat up.
“Forgive me for being a dolt! Ah, Tony, I held that cough back as long as I could. You may not be a witch, my boy, but that was pure witchery you were creating. Did you see all the deer?”
“Yes, sir.” They were the first wild ones he'd ever seen, and ordinarily he might have been amazed by the sight. But somehow, here in this seclusion of the forest, it seemed perfectly natural. All at once he knew that, no matter what happened, he and Tia could never go back and live in the city.
Tia, he saw, was also awake and sitting up. She said, “Did you see the littlest fawn, Tony? It was the cutest thing! Oh, I hope we have lots of animals where we're going.”
Tony managed not to laugh. The way animals took up with Tia, she'd probably need a whole mountain to herself. “We don't know where we're going yet,” he said. “Let's hear the rest about Uncle Bené.”
“Just a moment,” said Father O'Day. “Before you get too far ahead of me, give me a chance to catch up. Tony, who was Uncle Bené?”
“He was the man who was bringing us to America. Tia remembered him first. That got me started, and I've been remembering more about him ever since…”
Tony closed his eyes, and said, “He was a small, quick man with a beard—not a relative, but he was one of us, and we loved him. We'd been caught in a lot of trouble—soldiers were everywhere— and we were trying to escape and reach the sea.” He glanced at the dark bulk of Father O'Day in the shadow beyond him, and asked, “Do you remember about any trouble in Europe at that time?”
“Yes,” the big man said. “There was a rebellion in Hungary against the communists, and for a long time afterward there was scattered trouble here and there.”
“Well, all I can remember about it now is that Tia and I were prisoners, and were kept in an old house with a high wall around it. We hadn't seen Uncle Bené for weeks and weeks, not since the accident—”
“Accident?” the priest said quietly.
“Yes. Tia will have to explain about that. It's coming back to me—that there was an accident, and our lifeboat was smashed. Is that right, Tia?”
“Yes,” she whispered, as if it hurt her to speak.
“It seems that Tia, Uncle Bené, and myself were the only ones who were not hurt or killed. Then the soldiers came and captured us all.” Tony paused, and said, “Why would they treat people that way?”
“Because human rights and human suffering mean nothing to a communist,” the big man growled. “Only the state is important to them.”
“Oh, I see. Well, Uncle Bené managed to get away. He was like Tia—no lock could hold him. And of course Tia was too small to open locks at that time. Anyway, when the fighting started, Uncle Bené came and took us out of the house where we were, and escaped with us. We spent days running and hiding until we reached the coast. It seems that Uncle Bené had had time to plan how to g
et us away—he'd written over here for money, and he'd made a deal with the captain of a Spanish ship. He didn't trust the man, but it was our only chance…”
Tony paused, unconsciously clenching his hands as he recalled the terror and heartbreak of that experience. Then he hastened on, telling of their last night ashore in the stone barn, of slipping down to the beach in the dawn, and of getting away in the little boat just as the soldiers discovered them and began to fire.
“We didn't know Uncle Bené had been hit. He—he managed to hide it for a while. When he realized he was dying, he put the rest of his money in Tia's star box, along with his map, and told us we'd have to go on to America without him. He said he'd given the captain instructions about where to send us when we got over here—only he didn't have faith in the captain, and was afraid something might go wrong. So he told us to pay careful attention while he explained what we'd have to do.”
Tony stopped a moment while he tried to think. “I—I don't remember all he said. I couldn't possibly. But Tia does—only it got sort of blocked in her mind because of the things that happened. Anyway, it's coming back to both of us now. You know the rest of it—to the captain we were just another pair of refugees, and he didn't want to be bothered with us. So he called Mr. Deranian, who left us with Granny.”
There was a long silence when Tony finished. At last Father O'Day got up and rebuilt the fire, and put the coffeepot on to boil. He sat down, scowling, his battered face looking ferocious in the firelight. Suddenly he said:
“Do you remember where Uncle Bené wanted you to go? Was it to Stony Creek?”
“Yes, sir. And we were to see someone named Castaway.”
“Castaway!”
“That's right. Tia remembered it last evening. But after all these years…”
“He may still be there. We'll look for him tomorrow. And it looks as if we can forget about Witch Mountain. Now, there's one thing that worries me. How much does that fellow Deranian know about you?”
“Not very much,” Tony replied. “I heard him talking to that other man, Werner Karman, just before you called to us back at the Kozak place. Years ago, when he left us at Granny's, he had no idea those people abroad were looking for us. When he found it out, and they sent him to get us, it seems they didn't do too much explaining. They just warned him about us—told him he could expect almost anything…”
“Hmm.” The priest rubbed a big hand over his jaw. “Obviously, the people who have been searching for you knew you would develop some very valuable abilities—even though you were both too young to show them at the time. They must have learned that from the other passengers in the lifeboat, the ones that weren't hurt too badly.”
Tia nodded, and Father O'Day asked, “Do you know what happened to them?”
“They—they died,” said Tony, repeating Tia's answer.
“And that left the two of you. Two small children who could be raised to do exactly as you were told. Two slaves with incredible abilities…” Father O'Day stood up. He looked as angry as Tony had ever seen him. “Why, Tony, your power of vision alone would be priceless to them! If they suspect you have that—”
“They know it,” said Tony, with a glance at Tia. “She says Uncle Bené told us they'd found out that most of our family could vision distant places and see what was happening. I'm not good at it yet—”
“That makes no difference,” the big man interrupted. “They know it, and they'll pay anything to get you back. If Deranian fails, they'll send others.”
“Oh, no!” Tony was shaken.
“I'm afraid they will,” the priest said slowly. “That's the sort of people they are. And it certainly complicates things.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I don't know yet—except to keep you both hidden. A lot will depend on what we find at Stony Creek.”
Tony looked unhappily at the fire. So much depended upon an unknown person named Castaway. Had they remembered him ten years too late?
Suddenly he thought of the witches again.
“I—I keep wondering about Witch Mountain,” he said. “Why couldn't it have something to do with us?”
The priest shook his head. “How could it? As I told those men at the bridge, I've heard of the place—it was Augie Kozak who mentioned it to me. The only thing is, how could there be any possible connection between a group of so-called witches arriving at Witch Mountain—and you and Tia and some others being washed up on a communist coast after a shipwreck? Of course, both incidents seem to have happened at about the same time. But—”
Father O'Day stopped and stared at Tia. “What's the matter, my dear? Is there a connection?”
Tia did not answer. She was looking blankly into the fire. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
“Tia!” said Tony. “What's wrong?”
It was long seconds before she was able to answer. Finally she turned to him and told him.
Tony blinked at her. “It—it's all come back to her,” he told the priest. “She says there is a connection between the witches and the rest of us who were wrecked. All of us came from the same place.”
“Where in the world was that?”
“She—she says the place no longer exists.”
“Eh? How do you mean?”
Tony swallowed. “It—it's one of the things Uncle Bené told us we must never forget. Tia remembers, and I've been remembering parts of it…You see, our old home was destroyed. We all managed to get away, for there were only a few of us left. Only, our ship burned before we got here, and we had to come the rest of the way in lifeboats. We were headed for Witch Mountain.”
“You were headed for Witch Mountain—in lifeboats?”
“Yes, sir. But the lifeboat we were in ran out of fuel, somewhere in middle Europe. Tia says our parents were on board, and our father was pilot. If we hadn't been shot at, we could have landed safely. Instead we crashed.”
Father O'Day gave a slight shake of his head as if he had not heard correctly. “What are you trying to tell me, Tony?”
Tony took a deep breath. What Tia had helped him to remember had been something of a shock, although he had guessed part of it.
“I—I'm trying to explain, sir, why my people called themselves the Castaways. Because that's what we are.” He picked up Tia's star box and pointed to the design on it. “That's the emblem for our former home. We—we came from a planet that had two suns. A double star, really.”
Father O'Day opened his mouth to speak, but could not. Finally he crossed himself, and sat down very slowly.
STONY CREEK
Tony glanced through the break in the foliage at the narrow strip of sky. It had paled slightly. Dawn could not be far away.
“Heaven preserve us!” the priest murmured finally. “I should have been able to guess something about you two, but I missed it entirely. My thinking has been so earthbound…There's just one thing—” He looked off into the night, his battered face puckered with bewilderment. “I don't understand about Witch Mountain. Why were the lifeboats going there? On all this planet, what was there about that particular spot that could have attracted your people?”
“Because we were mountain people, and it was a spot we'd chosen years ago,” Tony explained. He listened to Tia a minute, and said, “Do you remember what the man told you at the bridge—that the first witches came to Witch Mountain in his grandfather's day? Well, I don't know how long ago that was, but it was when some of our people first came here.”
“You mean on a sort of scouting trip?”
“Yes, sir. Somebody had to pick out a safe place to live, and go back and tell the others what to expect. They ran into all sorts of problems.”
“I can see some of them. I imagine language…”
“Oh, they ran into a bigger worry than language. Tia says the scouts were amazed at the beauty of the planet, and shocked at the way people here were treating it. The only thing that mattered to them was money. It was their idea of wealth. Everything was based on pr
oducing it, and it was much more important than actually living and doing.”
“Eh?” Father O'Day stared at him. “Living and doing? But, Tony, one has to have money merely to live and do.”
“Sure, in this crazy place. But my people didn't know it when they first came here. And the people that were already here were not the kind that would go out of their way to help queer-looking strangers who couldn't talk English. Instead of helping you, they were more likely to shoot at you for trespassing.”
“Ump. I see what you mean. If I'd come here scouting, and run into much of this world's meanness, I think I would have turned around and hunted for another planet—a better one.”
“They wanted to, but they couldn't,” Tony said. “There was no other place near enough that was habitable. So they picked a wild area, built a sort of station on the big mountain in the middle of it, and got busy learning the language and everything else they had to know. The big problem, of course, was land.”
Father O'Day said grimly, “Land—the possession of it—has always been a problem. Half the wars on earth—”
“But we didn't know about that,” Tony put in hastily.
“Didn't you own land where you came from?”
“Oh, no! No one owned it. It belonged to the planet. It was part of the planet, and everyone loved it and took care of it. Over here it belonged to people—and to be able to live on it safely and not be driven off, you had to buy it. Now do you see?”
“Oh!” said the priest, in dawning comprehension. “You really did have a problem.” He scowled ferociously at the fire. “Imagine! A small group, advanced far beyond the idea of personal profit, coming to a greedy commercial world… forced to start a new life, knowing they couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves… needing a safe
place to hide, so they could gradually blend in inconspicuously with the life around them…”
“So they had to buy land,” Tony said quietly.
“Only, they had nothing they could use for money—or did they? What happened, Tony?”
Escape to Witch Mountain Page 10