The Dark Ground

by Gillian Cross

  He turned around and knelt down, letting himself carefully over the edge. Nate grinned at Robert. "You next."

  Robert knelt down to look into the gorge. "Do you really think it’s safe? There could be anything down there."

  "That’s right." Nate sounded amused. "Scary, isn’t it? Want to run away instead ?"

  Robert made a face at him and started to climb down, clinging tightly to the plant stems and stopping every few steps to disentangle his spear. As soon as he was below the rim of the gorge, Nate came after him, climbing quietly and neatly.

  They were about halfway down when they saw Cam and Zak. They were on a ledge, almost at the bottom of the gorge, and Cam was kneeling beside a boulder, jabbing at something with the sharp, metal tip of her stick.

  "See!" she hissed when she saw them. "I told you!"

  Robert and Nate scrambled down to join in. Half hidden behind the boulder, clinging to its underside, were three great, coiled shells. It was still light enough to see their dappled, spiraling patterns. Cam slapped the side of the largest one exultantly.

  "This kind is good to eat. Help me get it off the stone."

  It took all four of them to roll the shell. It was stuck hard to the base of the boulder and, even with their arms spread wide, they couldn’t get a grip on its smooth, rounded sides.

  In the end, they broke it off with a combination of running and leverage. Cam pushed the tip of her stick under one edge of the shell, and the other three ran past her, flinging their whole weight against the side of it. It made a loud, juicy sound as it came away, flopping onto the ground with a squelch.

  The soft body quivered back into the opening, but Cam was already jabbing at it with her stick, twisting it so that the metal tip caught in the creature’s flesh.

  "Don’t just stand there!" she snapped. "Hold on to the shell so I can pull!"

  The creature was contracting as fast as it could. Cam held on tightly, digging her feet into the earth, but the shell just slithered toward her, drawing her stick into its opening.

  Zak and Robert threw themselves down on top of it, anchoring it to the ground. Nate went to help Cam as she leaned backward, tugging hard on her stick. For a moment they were deadlocked. Nothing moved.

  "Pull!" Cam said.

  Zak and Robert hooked their fingers over the rim of the shell and pulled backward. Nate clamped his fingers around the spear, just below Cam’s. All four of them heaved as hard as they could, and slowly the pale, fleshy body was dragged out of the shell. It came free suddenly, with a revolting wet, sucking noise, and Robert retched and turned his face away.

  That was what saved their lives.

  As Robert turned, he caught a movement down in the leaves below them at the bottom of the gorge. For a second his brain struggled, making no sense of what his eyes were telling him. The thing was too big to see. It took up too much of the dim, shadowy space. It couldn’t be—

  Then it moved again, and his mind kicked into action.

  A long, furry monster was snaking along the bank of the stream, under the cover of the leaves. Its body was tense and sinewy, flattened against the ground. Its head alone was as big as he was, with round ears set close against the skull and eyes that gleamed black and sharp.

  It met Robert’s eyes and moved again, inching closer. With horrible clarity, he realized that he was within its range, that it was poised, ready to spring forward when he turned to run away. He felt himself tense with terror. The creature moved forward again and the cold black eyes flicked over him, alien and indifferent . . . .

  And suddenly his terror was swept aside by a flood of rage. This thing (what was it—stoat or weasel?), this thing thought he was a helpless victim. This thing—

  There was no time to plan, no time to shout to the others. He moved instinctively, fired by fury. Snatching up his spear, he threw himself forward, not away from that ugly head, but toward it. His mouth opened instinctively in a huge, formless yell and he lifted the spear high above his head.

  "YAAARRRHHH!"

  The monster was startled. Its head jerked up, and it drew back, hissing. Robert ran on, without thinking, without reckoning the risk, putting all his weight behind the sharp tip of the spear.

  His reach was pathetically, pitifully short, but he was moving fast and his aim was good. As the monster recovered, it came down at him, with its mouth wide open. Warm breath swamped him with a stench of rotten meat, and sharp, yellow teeth glinted all around him. Bracing himself for the pain of those teeth, he jabbed into the gaping, fanged hole, aiming as far back as he could.

  In that instant he didn’t care about getting hurt. He didn’t care if he died. All his energy, all his anger, were concentrated into one savage blow.

  Just as the jaws started to close, the metal point of his spear connected with the soft palate, and he threw himself right into the monster’s mouth, ramming the spear home. Twisting it as hard as he could. The creature wrenched its head away, rearing up and pulling the spear out of his hands. Hissing horribly, it shook its head from side to side, trying to dislodge the point.

  Without the spear Robert felt utterly helpless. His anger drained away and he would have bolted—but Nate came running past him, dodging around to one side of the huge swinging head. Grabbing handfuls of reddish brown fur, Nate began to haul himself up, gripping the shaft of his spear with his teeth.

  The monster tossed its head harder, but it couldn’t get rid of him. Straddling its neck, Nate took hold of his spear with both hands and pushed it hard into one of the small, round ears.

  The creature shrieked and jerked its head sideways, knocking him to the ground. Robert’s weapon came flying out of its mouth, clattering toward his feet, but Nate’s was in too deep to loosen. It shook its head again furiously, and Robert scrambled to snatch up his spear. Lifting it high, he ran at the monster again, yelling with all the breath he had.

  "YYAAAARRRHHHH!"

  Simultaneously Zak shouted from the other side, racing in with his spear aimed at the creature’s underbelly. Cam charged forward with hers, screaming and stabbing the air. And Nate jumped up and joined in the yelling, waving his arms ferociously.

  For one second the monster glared at them all, hissing and baring its teeth, with Nate’s spear waggling grotesquely in its ear.

  Then it turned and ran, still shaking its head to try to get rid of the burning pain. They all slithered down after it, waving their arms in the air and yelling triumphantly, until they had chased it into the shadowy clumps along the side of the river.

  Then—shouting and exultant—they scrambled back up to the ledge and heaved at the fleshy creature they had pulled out of the shell. Working together, they hauled it up the side of the gorge, heading back into the tree wall.

  They sat under the dark branches and ate the meat raw, leaning back against one of the tree trunks. Cam used the tip of her spear to slit the body open and dig out the guts. Then she and Nate hacked the meat into pieces and doled it out. It was cold and wet and salty, but they sucked the juices and chewed the pallid flesh until their jaws ached.

  As they ate, they talked and laughed and grinned at each other, telling and retelling the story of their fight.

  "The way you went for that monster—it was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen!" Cam said. She leaned forward and clapped Robert on the back.

  "I didn’t really—"

  He was going to say something modest, but before the words were out he knew they were wrong. This wasn’t a time for modesty. The others laughed at him, shaking their heads and pushing more meat into his hands.

  "Don’t deny it," Zak said. "You’re brave. And you’re pretty strong, too."

  "As strong as a horse!" Cam said. She flexed her muscles dramatically.

  "As strong as a bull!" Nate jumped up, pulling Robert with him. Robert clenched his fists and threw them into the air.

  "Yes!" He began to strut around dramatically, half mocking and half serious.

  "As strong as an elephant!" Cam shou
ted.

  She bent and lifted two of the batpacks, one in each hand. Robert looped the strings over his shoulders and laughed at her.

  "I can carry more than that!"

  Zak and Nate brought the other two bundles and Robert laughed again, bending to take the extra weight. Cam gave him a push to set him walking, and he began to march around the tree with all four bundles on his back. The others drummed on the trunk with their hands, chanting in turn.

  "You’re as brave as a lion!"

  "As strong as a giant!"

  "Bones like iron!"

  "Muscles like steel!"

  "You fought the monster!"

  "You made it run!"

  They were drunk with triumph. Robert marched around and around, stamping his feet and waving his fists above his head. He could feel the power in his body and the fierce strength of his will. Whatever was ahead, he could cope. He had faced a nightmare creature ten times as big as he was—and he had beaten it.

  "We drove it away!" he shouted. "I fought it, Nate fought it, we all fought it—and it ran away from us. We beat the monster!"

  Zak’s hands thundered against the tree trunk. "We beat the monster—and Cam found food. More than we can eat! She found the shell, and we pulled it off the rock!"

  Robert laughed aloud. "You’re brilliant, Cam! You know where to look for food! You know what we can eat! You’re the leader!"

  They were all waving their arms now, shouting into the darkness. Zak started to sing a loud, wordless tune, like a fanfare of trumpets, and they took up the rhythm, marching around the tree and slapping their hands against the trunk. Their triumph surrounded them like a wall of fire, and they marched on and on, until Robert began to stagger under the weight he was carrying.

  Then they climbed up into the dark trees, scrambling up and up, until they were higher than they had ever been before. Until they couldn’t see anything, in any direction—up, down, or sideways—except the maze of spreading branches.

  Wedging themselves together in the crook of a single branch, they slept instantly, sated and exhausted.

  21

  IN THE NIGHT, ROBERT WAS SICK. HE LEANED OVER THE EDGE of the branch and vomited, not stopping when his stomach was empty, but retching on and on, uncontrollably. His whole body was in revolt.

  Zak and Nate held on to him, keeping him from falling, but he was hardly aware of that. Not until the spasms died away and he flopped back against them.

  "Are you ill?" Cam said sharply.

  Ill was bad. He could hear it in her voice. Automatically, he shook his head, without any idea whether he was right.

  "Let him sleep," said Zak.

  Nate pulled Robert into the center of the branch and wrapped him firmly in two bat furs. Fleetingly, Robert recognized that the second one was Nate’s own blanket, and he wondered how Nate would manage without it. Then the thought disappeared, because he was asleep.

  THE NEXT TIME HE WOKE, IT WAS ALMOST DAWN, AND NATE was shaking his shoulder.

  "You have to wake up now. We need to get across the gorge before it’s light."

  Robert lifted his head, blinking and trying to pull his wits together. Nate leaned closer, studying his face.

  "Are you feeling better?" He sounded anxious.

  Robert sat up, wriggling his shoulders and turning his head. He felt weak and drained, and curiously detached. But not ill.

  "I’m fine," he said.

  "Good. Let’s roll up the blankets and get going then."

  Robert peered along the branch. "Where are the others?"

  "In the gorge." Nate pointed down through the trees. "They’ve been there for hours, ever since you went back to sleep. Didn’t you realize?"

  Robert shook his head.

  Nate grinned. "Cam said we couldn’t leave here until we’d collected some grain. She wasn’t too pleased when I said I was staying up here, to keep an eye on you."

  Collecting grain meant heaving at the stiff, jointed grass stalks until they keeled over. Then, when the seed heads were within reach, the separate grains had to be stripped out of their sockets. The grains were big and unwieldy, and it was exhausting work. Robert wasn’t surprised that Cam had wanted Nate down in the gorge.

  "You should have woken me up," he said. "I ought to be helping, too."

  "Didn’t want you throwing up all over the food." Nate grinned again. "Come on. I’ll take the blankets."

  He pulled them free and rolled them up quickly, tucking both of them under his left arm. Then he ran along the branch and began to climb down, one-handed.

  Robert followed more slowly. As soon as he started to move, he realized how weak and stiff he was. Climbing down made his whole body ache. By the time he reached the bottom of the tree, he felt like sitting still for half an hour.

  "What’s wrong with me?" he said crossly. "I wasn’t this feeble yesterday."

  "You’re doing OK," Nate said. "That fight will have drained all your energy—and you’re still recovering from the night-bird attack. Don’t push yourself too hard."

  Robert made a face. "I’m not the one doing the pushing."

  "Don’t let it bother you," Nate said. "It’s part of Cam’s job to nag us. And she may be nagging a bit harder because—"

  He broke off, as though he’d changed his mind, and turned to go. But Robert caught his arm, holding him back.

  "Why would she be nagging harder? What do you mean?"

  Nate was obviously reluctant to say any more. But Robert tugged at his arm impatiently, and after a moment he went on.

  "It’s just a feeling I’ve got. Cam’s really tense. And it’s odd that she and Zak have both come on this expedition. I’ve been wondering if . . . there’s something going on. Something bigger than they’ve told us."

  "It’s not their expedition," Robert said. "It’s ours. And Cam’s always tense, isn’t she?"

  Nate hesitated. "Maybe she is. Since you came, anyway." He shrugged. "I’ve probably been imagining things."

  He gave Robert a quick tap on the arm—a light, friendly pat—and set off abruptly toward the gorge.

  Robert forced himself to follow. It was hard work trudging through the grass. When he reached the gorge, he sat down and rested for a few seconds before he let himself over the edge. He was intending to climb down, like Nate, but his arms ached so much that he took the easy option and slithered most of the way to the bottom.

  Cam and Zak were waiting by the stream, with the batpacks at their feet. The packs were bulging with grain, and two of them were already wrapped in fur blankets, with water shells and spears lashed into place. The other two packs were waiting, with the single remaining spear lying loose on top and the shells ready beside them.

  As Robert straightened up at the bottom of the slope, Zak gave him a sharp, searching look.

  "Will you be able to manage your pack?"

  "He’ll have to," Cam said briskly. "We can’t hang around here. It’s already too light to be safe. We should have been up the other side and into cover a couple of hours ago."

  Nate picked up Robert’s pack, weighing it in his hands and frowning. Robert reached out and took it from him.

  "Stop worrying. I thought I was as strong as an elephant."

  He swung the pack into place on his back. It was even heavier than he had expected, and he staggered slightly, taken by surprise. Immediately he was aware of Cam’s eyes on him.

  "I’m fine," he said quickly. "I was just settling it on my back."

  Cam didn’t look convinced. But all she said was, "You don’t want it on your back just yet. We’ll have to carry them on our heads while we cross the stream. Hurry up and fix the rest of your gear. We need to start."

  "Don’t fret," Nate said. "You and Zak can start if you like. I’ll help Robert with his pack."

  Cam nodded grudgingly, and she and Zak let themselves down into the water. They began to splash across, taking slow, noisy strides.

  Nate lifted the pack off Robert’s back and laid it on the ground again, r
olling it in the bat fur and heaving the water shell into position on top. He lashed the whole bundle together securely and tucked the last spear through the strings.

  Robert looked apprehensively at the water, wondering how long it would take him to cross with all that weight on his head. He imagined himself lagging behind Nate, with Cam yelling at him from the far side.

  Nate glanced up and caught his expression. "Why don’t you start now?" he said gently. "No need to wait for me. It’ll only take me a minute to fix my gear, and then I’ll be right behind you."

  Gratefully Robert picked up his pack. With the water shell in place, it was almost more than he could lift, but he was determined not to give in. He sat down on the bank of the stream and swung the whole load onto his head, steadying it with one hand. Then he slid down into the water.

  It was very cold and almost waist-deep. To take a step, he had to fight the pressure of it, steadying himself against the flow. Once he was away from the bank, it took all his strength to stay on his feet. He shuffled across, a step at a time, inching his way through the numbing cold.

  He was about halfway across when he heard a noise from behind. It was a rustle, hardly loud enough to reach him, but there was something about it that made him stop.

  Before he could turn to look back, the rustle was drowned out by a loud, desperate shout curdling into a scream. Robert whipped around then—almost falling over—and saw a sight that froze his heart.

  There, on the bank he had just left, was the long, furry monster they’d driven away the day before. It was unmistakable. He could see its round head and its black eyes and the thick, clotted blood in its ear, from the wound that Nate’s spear had made. And in its mouth—

  No! said his mind. No, it can’t—

  It was a fixed, terrible image. Unthinkable and real. The malevolent, narrowed eyes. The lifted head, heavy and brutal. The clamped, murderous jaws.

  And hanging from the jaws, hanging slack now and stained with blood—

  "Nate!" Robert shouted. "Nate!"

  "Don’t look!" Zak’s voice said sharply, from behind him.

  At the same moment, in a frenzy of splashing water, Cam came charging past, screaming at the top of her voice, with a spear lifted high in her hand.