“I’m thinking to shut him up in your place.”
Ganash first looked surprised, then his brows came together wryly. “And I’m wondering how, you not having your own magic.”
Gom huffed at this last remark. But it was true. The rune was the thing. He squeezed it in his palm again. It had done so much for them. It had even broken the power of the sealstone.
On a sudden thought, he walked over to the cave mouth to stand beneath the place where the sealstone lay dark in its crack. If the rune could break the sealstone’s power, perhaps it could restore it.
Gom climbed, touched the rune once more to the sealstone. There was a flash and the sealstone shone dull red as before.
“It worked! It worked!” Gom cried. “I think we have a chance!”
“By heavens, you may be right,” Ganash said, lumbering over. “You said you wanted dark. That’s no problem, for I can glow or not at will. But the smoke and smell are another matter. What are we going to do?”
Gom clung to the rock face in the dark, trying not to cough. Ganash waited across the far side of the cavern: dark, motionless, and alert for the first sign of Katak’s return.
Black smoke drifted up from the empty grotto, acrid smoke from slowly smoldering cloth—the hem of Gom’s tunic that he’d torn off with reluctance, it being the tunic that Mudge had made him.
Gom shifted his position above the grotto entrance, and sniffed the air anxiously. The smell of burning cloth wasn’t exactly right for an igniting kundalara, but it was the best he could do.
He glanced down at the sealstone shining red beneath him. When Katak returned, Gom was hoping that the smoke would lure the evil one into breaking the seal to go into the cave. The moment Katak was inside, Gom must quickly touch the sealstone to life, shutting Katak in his own trap.
The trick was to catch Katak right. For the most part, so Ganash said, Katak was invisible, showing himself as skull only when he chose. So silent and secret would be that one’s coming, Ganash said, that Gom wouldn’t even suspect it.
A moment later a small piece of rock hit the floor, Ganash’s signal.
Katak had arrived.
Gom could see nothing in the sealstone’s dim shine, no white light, no skull, nothing. The only token he had of Katak’s presence was that beneath him, the sealstone suddenly went dark.
Katak had broken the seal on the grotto entrance, and was now inside looking to see what the smoke was all about. Quickly, Gom leaned down and put his hand to the crack.
Flash!
The red stone shone once more. The grotto entrance was resealed, and Katak was inside, out of the stones reach—so Gom hoped!
Would the spell hold? Or could Katak break it somehow from within?
A scream of fury issued from the grotto. It burst against Gom’s ears, and roared inside his head. No words were spoken, and yet into Gom’s mind came the threat that if he didn’t break the seal and release Katak at once, he’d pay an unimaginable penalty.
Gom shut his eyes against the sound, but it went on and on, echoing through the cavern—or was it through his head? He seemed to shrink until he was no more than a small white worm before the might of Katak’s power.
He began to wonder how he’d ever dared defy that terrible force. Slowly, he reached down again to break the seal. But before he could touch the sealstone, large hands found him in the dark and hoisted him so high into the air that he felt Sessery’s playful currents across the cavern roof.
"Let me go! Put me down!” Gom kicked and struggled against the kundalara’s grasp. But Ganash, a radiant green again, only shook him gently, then held him out before his face as a mother her wayward child.
"Stop up your ears, young one. Katak’s powers of persuasion are great.”
"But the voice is within me also,” Gom protested weakly.
"In that case,” Ganash nodded toward Gom’s chest, "use the rune.”
Gom touched his mother’s stone, and shut his mind against Katak’s urgings. Although he felt nothing still, little by little the voices inside and outside ceased.
Gom whispered, "You may put me down now.” And added, with a touch of resentment as Ganash lowered him, "You kept your head clear.”
"And so I should, for I’ve had enough practice. Don’t worry, I was just like you at first, before I learned not to listen, and even then I fell into that deathsleep. Come,” he warned Gom. "We’re not through yet. We must get out of here.”
Gom took up his boots, slung them around his neck, and went with the kundalara into the far tunnel, Ganash swimming in the stream, Gom walking along beside it by the cool green light of Ganash’s scales, until they reached a fork. There, the tunnel split into two, each way winding downward.
"Choose,” Ganash told Gom, pointing. "Go right, and you take the stream down under the island and into the sound. Go left and the other tunnel will bring you out on the shore. You’d best come by water with me, if you want my advice. It’s safer.”
“Thank you,” said Gom, “but I’d rather take the dry tunnel if you don’t mind. I travel well underground, and I’m not overly partial to water.”
“As you will.” Ganash sighed heavily. “Good luck. I’ll watch for you topside,” he said, and with that he dove beneath the stream and disappeared.
As soon as Ganash was gone, Gom called out. “Sessery? Are you there?” Then stood in the darkness, listening.
A faint shout from the cavern behind him answered. Not Sessery, but a human call!
Zamul?
Gom listened. The voice came again, still as distant, but this time the words were louder, and quite distinct.
“Gom! Gom!”
Gom spun on his heel. He’d never heard that voice in his life, but he knew it. He moved fast, back to the cavern, to find a short, slight figure all in brown: brown shirt, brown skirt, brown shawl, brown boots, and brown hair drawn neatly to a coil at her nape. The figure, lantern in hand, was watching the tunnel entrance.
As he emerged into the lantern’s light, she raised her other hand and beckoned.
“Mother!” Gom cried, and ran across the floor.
Chapter Twelve
THE FIGURE didn’t come to meet him, but stood her ground, holding out the lantern directly in front of her, almost as if warding him off. Gom faltered, lowered his arms. Not the kind of meeting he’d expected. Oh well, he told himself. His mother no doubt had her reasons. And a little trust this time on his part wouldn’t go amiss!
At least she was still smiling.
Stig had described her remarkably well: the quick, dark eyes deep set in the long face; long nose, bent just like his at the bridge; and three moles at the end of her chin. How mysterious and distant she seemed in the lantern light. Was that how she’d looked the night she appeared on Windy Mountain?
He looked down at his chest. Maybe his boots were in the way, he thought, slipping them from around his neck and dropping them to the floor. But she still made no move to embrace him, or even to touch him.
Her smile faded abruptly.
“So,” she said, in a low and husky voice, just as Stig had described it. “I had to come after all to pull you out of this mess. Serves me right, I suppose, for having expected too much.”
Gom stared at her in disbelief. What was his mother saying! Hadn’t he just rescued Ganash and shut up the evil one in his place?
Harga was shaking her head at him reproachfully. “Such a big world, Ulm is. Too big for you, it seems. You think that is Katak in there?” She nodded to the grotto mouth. “Think again. Katak, you freed, and it’s Ganash who lies behind that seal. Oh, to think the shapechanger duped my own son!”
Shapechanger? No! Incredulous, Gom thought back to his meeting with Ganash, how the kundalara had first spoken with him. That couldn’t possibly have been Katak. “Besides,” he said aloud, “we were both under Katak’s deathsleep.”
Harga shook her head. “A simple trick to make you think he was Ganash. Simple—but effective.”
Gom stood stricken, recalling now the beast’s fierceness when supposedly warming up. Oh, the cunning of it. The cleverness in winning Gom’s sympathy. Why, Gom had actually liked the creature! While all the time behind the false form, Katak must have been laughing at him.
He clenched his fists. Fool again! When would he ever learn? He, a woodcutter’s son, with a head turned by dreams and the lofty words of an ancient ghost, as Mandrik surely was. And now his mother had had to come to bail him out, before he’d had a proper chance to solve her riddle. He squirmed to think how he’d fancied his own cleverness. Now his worst fears were realized. He’d not only failed his mother, but had been shown right in front of her what a fool he was. He wished fervently that he were back up on Windy Mountain, lying safely under his bedclothes, with no more on his mind than the next trip down into town.
He forced himself to meet her eye. “I’m sorry, Mother. I know no better, being but a simple mountain boy.
Father always said I was no match for the outside world.” He took the stone from about his neck, and held it out. “Here’s your rune.”
It was fairly buzzing against his open palm. And why not, being rid of its bumbling keeper and with its rightful owner again, Gom thought bitterly.
Harga nodded to the top of the arch. “First,” she said, “you can save your mother’s legs and let that poor old serpent out.”
“Yes, Mother. Of course.” Gom scrambled for the cavern wall, eager to make amends, to show her at least how well he could climb.
He’d no sooner found his first toehold when a deep voice boomed out.
“No!”
Ganash swept up from the waters of the stream and lumbered over toward him. No—not Ganash, Gom corrected himself, but Katak, shapechanger, who’d tricked him into shutting the real kundalara into the cave. “Gom!” Harga raised the lantern. “The sealstone, quick!” Obediently, Gom turned back to the wall, but the beast stamped the ground, making such a rumble that Gom sat down hard.
Harga’s eyes grew small and angry; her mouth, tight. “Up!” she cried. “Fail me now, and I’ll have no more use for such a son!”
Before Gom could obey, the huge wet shape moved with surprising speed to block his way.
“Move aside,” Harga commanded sternly. “Or it will go ill with you.”
“That I’ll not!” The kundalara leaned down its long neck and murmured in Gom’s ear. “You think that’s Harga? Young one, you’re deceived. That’s but an image of her that Katak took from your mind.”
Gom looked up into the luminous green eyes, then to Harga, doubtfully. The beast looked so real. And its words made sense. The sham monster was indeed persuasive.
So was Harga. His mother’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Let my son pass, Katak. Or you’ll be sorry, I promise.”
Ignoring Harga, the creature leaned down yet closer until Gom caught the strong sweet smell of its breath.
“Young one, think,” it urged. “If I’m Katak, how come you still wear the rune?"
“Gom!’’ Harga’s voice came sharp. “Beware the shapechanger’s power!”
“If you can’t trust me,” the kundalara went on, “trust the rune. Touch her with it and see what happens.”
Harga waved the lantern at the wall. “Up! Quickly!” she cried.
Gom looked from one to the other. They each seemed so real. But one of them was lying. One of them was false. Which one?
What should he do? Touch Harga? Or the sealstone? He twisted the rune’s thong, weighing his options, trying to decide. If that were really his mother, and he touched her, his only risk was more anger. If that figure were not Harga but a sham, and he touched the sealstone, then all was lost.
He swung the rune out by its thong, just enough to tap his mother gently. He felt no impact. Instead, the stone passed clean through hand and body, as through smoke. At once Harga disappeared, lantern and all, and the death’s-head glared out from the blackness of the grotto. Words streamed in silent fury through Gom’s head:
Release me. Release me, while yet you can. You meddle in matters past your understanding.
Gom looked in horror from Katak to the place where “Harga” had stood but a moment before. So close, so close he’d come to ruin!
“You chose wisely, young one.” Ganash laid a hand on Gom’s shoulder. “You are truly your mother’s son. Come,” he went on, “we must go, and fast, before he pulls another trick—and this time together, like it or not.”
Gom retrieved his boots, and clutching them tightly, let Ganash scoop him up and carry him to the stream.
Holding Gom above the wet, Ganash swam from the cavern, along the tunnel, passing the tunnel fork, and down until Gom heard the thunder of Great Krugk.
There, Ganash paused. “Don’t be afraid. Take a deep breath, and hold it. We’re going down under the island, then up again, out into the sound.”
Gom obeyed, shivering as the waters closed over his head.
They dove deep. Gom felt the currents grow colder. The water pressed in upon his ears, hurting his head, and lights seemed to explode all about him.
His thoughts grew confused. He opened his mouth to shout, to tell Ganash that he was suffocating. The harsh salt water rushed up his nose to tear at his throat. Mother, he thought. I’ve failed you. I never solved the riddle. I never brought you the rune. Gasping, choking, he began to struggle. “I wish—” he cried, and his life’s breath streamed in tiny bubbles from him...
* * *
Gom became aware of lapping waters, the soothing hiss of pebbles in the tidal wash. He was lying in something soft and warm, and swinging gently back and forth; a pleasant, lulling motion.
Gom was minded of the cradle Stig had made for Harga to rock their children in. Beautifully carved with small wild animals running all over it, and Hoot Owl presiding from the canopy. Hilsa in turn had rocked three of her own in it already, with promise of more. Such a warm and loving mother she was, and so she should be, having learned her craft of Harga.
Gom alone of all the family had never slept in it, for he’d spent his babyhood lying under trees while Stig went about his work nearby.
That had had its compensations. Gom would swear that was how he’d come to know so much of animals over the years. And yet, he thought, sighing deeply in satisfaction, it would have been nice to be rocked like this by his mother’s hand.
He tried to turn over, but in vain.
Stiff with alarm, Gom opened his eyes. All was still dark, but it was the darkness of night, and those twin stars above his head were real. Against those stars glowed Ganash’s radiant head, green eyes fixed on him anxiously. Gom peered down. The kundalara was crouched on wet shingle, Gom in his arms.
“Ah! So you decided to live after all.” The beast stopped his rocking, and lowered Gom to the shore. “My, but your lungs need building up.”
His lungs? The icy waters had sucked all Gom’s strength. He sat, his eyes fixed on Ganash, finding the soft green radiance of his mass strangely beautiful.
“Where are we, Ganash? Are we safe?” His numb lips slurred the words.
“We’re still on the island. The way you were looking, I thought I’d better let you get your life breath moving again before we go any farther. It’s all right: we’re safe enough, now.”
Gom bent over, folded his arms across his middle, and squeezed, fighting the urge to be sick. Katak was somewhere inside that peak, caught in his own trap. Gom saw again Harga’s form, standing beside the grotto, lantern raised, beckoning to him.
“It was just like her,” he murmured brokenly.
“No, it wasn’t,” Ganash answered, his voice low. “Not one bit.”
The beast touched Gom’s head with great gentleness. “You think your mother would treat you thus? Young one, just you wait. When at last you meet with Harga, you will know the difference.”
Gom wasn’t comforted.
If I’m Katak, how come you’re still wearing the rune?
“I should have guessed,” he said
, rocking back and forth. “I’m a fool.”
"No.” Ganash’s voice was almost sharp. “Katak’s power is strong. He clouded your mind.”
Gom straightened up. “He didn’t fool you.”
“Gom, Gom.” Ganash shook his head. “I already told you: how do you suppose I came to be locked up in that grotto? You mustn’t blame yourself, or judge yourself a fool on account of this day. Think.” He crouched beside Gom. “Who’s left behind down there, and who’s come out victorious, eh? Who broke the seal on the grotto? Oh, yes, you used your mother’s rune. But seriously: can’t you see what a great feat it was to bend it to your will? And look what wit and wisdom it took to find the false Harga out at last, against the full force of Katak’s power! Oh yes, I gave you the choice, but only you could make it! Young one, you’ve done great good this day. In fact I do believe you’ve saved this whole world a packet of trouble.”
Gom shifted awkwardly. He had felt the power of Katak’s evil. If Katak had gained control over the rune and Ganash’s treasures, that power would have grown beyond imagination. Ganash’s words were indeed true. But they made Gom feel highly uncomfortable.
“As for me,” Ganash went on, “I owe you my life and my freedom. And the return of my treasure. And that Katak shall stay safely shut away in his grotto forever, as long as I’m around, anyway, which amounts to the same thing.”
“There’s still Zamul.”
“I know. When he shows up, I’ll get rid of him.” “H—how?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll not ‘tear him limb from limb’,” Ganash said, in fair imitation of raven. “You think I don’t know what certain folk say of me in these parts?” He laughed, as Gom stared in surprise. “No. I’ll give that Zamul, as you call him, the scare of his life, then tow him on that raft of his to the far side of the sound. He’ll not bother us again. Would you sleep here the night, or on the mainland?”
“On the mainland,” Gom replied promptly. “But I can’t climb those cliffs.”
The Riddle and the Rune Page 12