The Ancient One

by T.A. Barron

  Across the water and through the mist, Kate could now make out the dark rock of the crater rim, rising straight up another thousand feet or more. She glanced behind to look at the entrance to the tunnel, but she could not find it amidst the jumble of gray and buff-colored pumice. A pang of fear shot through her: If the tunnel was invisible when it was this close and the air was this clear, how could they ever hope to find it again in the fog?

  Before she could voice her concern, however, she discovered the source of the rushing sound that she had earlier mistaken for wind. At the edge of the lake, no more than twenty yards to her right, a river of water cascaded briskly down a channel, then disappeared into the rocks. Here was the origin of Kahona Falls.

  “Look there,” announced Aunt Melanie, pointing toward the middle of the lake.

  Kate’s attention turned to a shadowy mass that seemed to be rising out of the water. Her skin prickled. The mass, dark and foreboding, seemed like something from another planet. At first it appeared to move, and then she realized that it was only the effect of the swirling mist. It was jagged, covered with spires, and blacker than the blackest thing she had ever seen.

  It was an island.

  “What—is that?” Kate sputtered.

  “That’s what the Halamis called Ho Shantero. It means Island That Moves.”

  “It does seem to move, doesn’t it? Of course, it’s only a trick of the fog.”

  Aunt Melanie said nothing.

  “I remember now,” Kate continued. “It was there on the map, the one you made. But there wasn’t any island at all on the big map.”

  “That’s because the mapmakers didn’t know it existed until that Forest Service man flew over the crater. I suspect he didn’t pay much attention to it, though, since it doesn’t have any trees.”

  Kate furrowed her brow. “I can’t imagine flying low over that thing and not paying attention.”

  Aunt Melanie cocked her head thoughtfully. “I did hear from Frank that he said something curious about it later, in Cary’s Tavern after he had a few beers in him.”

  “What?”

  Aunt Melanie looked at her watch, and her face turned grim. “It’s later than I thought. Let’s get going or they’re going to get to the redwoods before we do.” She started walking parallel to the shore, away from the bubbling cascade.

  Kate jogged to her side. “What did he say about the island?”

  The woman shrugged. “Something about the surface of the island seeming to move. Like it was crawling or something.”

  Kate glanced at the dark mass warily.

  Aunt Melanie sped up her pace a bit. “Right after he saw the island, he said the plane was shaken by a sudden updraft—so hard it nearly knocked him off his seat. Made him concentrate on flying for a few seconds, and by the time he was past the turbulence, the island was well behind. Then he saw the forest, and he never looked back.”

  “Did his pictures show anything weird? You said he took lots.”

  “None of the pictures he took of the island came out, for some reason.”

  “Fog,” suggested Kate hopefully.

  “Or maybe it was the work of Tinnanis,” said Aunt Melanie.

  “Tinnanis?” Kate wasn’t sure she really wanted to know what the word meant.

  “Just pulling your leg,” answered Aunt Melanie, hopping across a small rivulet that drained into the lake. “They’re part of Halami mythology, a magical little people who lived in the most ancient part of the forest. The Halamis believed that they kept the forest healthy, through some secret power of their own. Don’t worry, though. I doubt we’ll be meeting any.”

  Kate tugged on her sweater. “It makes me wonder who made those tiny little steps back at the entrance to the tunnel.”

  “Most people would tell you it was the Halamis. After all, they made all sorts of things in honor of the Tinnanis. Tiny tools, things like that.”

  “And what would you tell me?” asked Kate.

  Her great-aunt smiled curiously. “I’d say nobody knows for sure.”

  “What did these, um, Tinnanis supposedly look like, aside from being small?” Kate rather liked the idea of little people who lived among the trees. Perhaps they could even make themselves invisible at will, or change themselves into animal shapes.

  Aunt Melanie slowed her step, peering for a few seconds into the mist swirling about the black island. “Once again, nobody knows.” She turned and winked at her companion. “But if you should see one, be sure to tell me, won’t you?”

  Kate gave no answer. Then she spied an odd protrusion rising from the pumice stones just ahead. Standing about two feet tall, the powdery yellow outcropping looked like an upside-down funnel.

  “What’s that thing?” she asked, pointing.

  “A fumarole,” said Aunt Melanie, pausing to bend over it. “Once there was a geyser here, maybe a hundred feet high. Can’t you imagine a big plume of steam and sulfur gushing out of this thing?”

  “Sure,” Kate replied. “Too easily.”

  Aunt Melanie again checked her watch. “Let’s keep moving, Kate.” She nodded toward the thick line of trees not far ahead. “That’s where we’re going.”

  She resumed her pace, and Kate fell in behind. Over her right shoulder, Kate could see the island, partially obscured by shreds of fog from the ceaselessly steaming lake. It resembled a phantom ship, hovering between darkness and invisibility. Then she noticed that the deep blue water around it permitted no reflection. She pondered whether that was because of the water or the island itself.

  Kate turned to the other side, hoping to crowd the haunting thoughts of the island from her mind. Not far above them, resting on the jumble of broken pumice just in front of the dark cliff wall, she noticed a collection of six or seven enormous boulders. They appeared to be arranged in a ragged circle, like rocks around a giant’s campfire. Some of the boulders looked bigger than Aunt Melanie’s cottage, and none were smaller than Trusty.

  She recalled the Circle of Stones she had seen on Aunt Melanie’s map. Vaguely, she remembered seeing the word Beware written nearby in small letters. But beware of what?

  Something about these strange shapes tugged at her, made her curious. I’ll just have a quick look, she told herself. No need even to tell Aunt Melanie, who had strode off ahead. Better just to dash up there and back before she even notices.

  Turning her back to the blue lake, Kate started to scramble up the rock-strewn terrain. At once she discovered how steeply it sloped from the shoreline to the base of the vertical cliffs. The angle was close to forty-five degrees, forcing her to use her hands frequently. The rocks, dampened by fog, were slick and slippery, slowing her progress even more. But as the circle of giant stones drew nearer, their inexplicable attraction grew stronger.

  Stopping at one point to catch her breath, she turned and took in the full expanse of the crater. Seen without its normal filling of fog, it was impressive indeed. High cliffs rose along the far rim, some pointed like giant teeth, others curved into monumental domes. New morning light streamed across the undulating wall of rock, staining it deep red. Below, the white sweater of Aunt Melanie moved steadily along the edge of the lake, approaching the forest. Meanwhile, spiraling columns of mist swirled slowly around the cinder-black island.

  Kate caught a whiff of an enticing aroma from somewhere above her. Curious, she continued upward. Moving like a spider, she scurried up the slope. At length, the incline leveled off somewhat. She raised her head to see that she had arrived at the circle of boulders.

  She stood there, huffing. The stones, she realized, were ribbed with deep cracks that covered their entire surface with a net of dark lines. Whether they had been shattered by an explosion or baked by a burst of volcanic heat, she did not know. They had clearly withstood some sort of violence, powerful beyond imagining. For an instant she wondered whether these giant stones actually were pieces of a puzzle, remains of a single, enormous rock that had been blasted to bits long ago.

  Th
en she perceived again the aroma, unlike anything she had ever smelled before. It was sweet, almost like Aunt Melanie’s spice tea, but with an alluring quality no tea could possibly possess. To her surprise, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and even the essence of lilac—all her most favorite smells—wove themselves through the perfume. It was almost as if this aroma had been created exclusively for her. Underneath, she detected the barest breath of sulfur, strong enough to give added zest, yet not so strong as to detract from the enchanting sweetness.

  Searching for the source, she quickly found it: a pool of dark green liquid bubbling beneath the smallest of the huge stones. She stepped closer, immersing herself in the fragrant smell. The pool was lined with some sort of soft green algae whose undulating hairs danced gracefully, making the rocks lining the sides seem gentle and inviting.

  What could this lovely liquid be? She wanted to touch it, to taste it, to bathe in it. Heedless of any danger, she kneeled by the side of the frothing pool and reached her hand toward it.

  “Kate!”

  She jolted at the distant voice. It was Aunt Melanie, calling her. A wave of resentment raced through her, something she had never felt before toward her great-aunt. She called back angrily, “Don’t bother me now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Again, she cupped her hand, eager to take a drink. She leaned forward, reaching toward the bubbling green pool.

  “Kate!” came the cry again, closer this time, as Aunt Melanie toiled her way up the steep slope behind her.

  Kate froze, as an inner voice told her to be careful. Perhaps she would wait a moment longer. Then, in a flash, her anger surged anew. Aunt Melanie only wanted to spoil her fun. She wanted the whole crater to herself, wouldn’t let her discover anything. But she had. She had discovered this beautiful pool. I’ll show her, Kate thought. I can make some discoveries too.

  The pool seemed to reach out with fragrant, comforting arms to embrace her. Kate smiled, leaning still closer to the frothing green liquid. Slowly, she stretched out her hand.

  Just as the back of her cupped hand touched the surface, she heard a shrill whistle and looked up. Some sort of bird, looking like a red streak, hurtled at her from the top of the giant stone behind the pool. It smacked full force into her shoulder, knocking her backward onto the rocks, then flew off.

  “Ehhhh!” she shrieked, landing on her back with a thud.

  Before she could roll back to her knees, someone clasped the arm of her sweatshirt. Aunt Melanie stood above her, breathing heavily. Suddenly, Kate felt a sharp pain on the back of her left hand. Turning it to her face, she saw a mass of green wormlike creatures writhing on her skin. They seemed to be burrowing into the back of her hand.

  She screamed again, shaking her hand wildly. Aunt Melanie grabbed Kate’s wrist, thrust her hand into a rivulet of water flowing into the pool, and started scrubbing intensely. Kate squealed in pain and tried to pull away.

  “I know it hurts,” said Aunt Melanie with a scowl, “but it’s necessary. Hold steady.” She continued the scouring despite Kate’s squirms and cries of anguish.

  At last, she relented, releasing her grip. Kate looked at the back of her hand to see red and blistered skin below her knuckles. It was bleeding, and ached as if it had been scalded, but the writhing worms were gone.

  Aunt Melanie pulled a faded purple kerchief from her pocket. She wrapped it carefully around Kate’s hand, securing it with a knot. Holding Kate firmly by the shoulders, she scrutinized her. “Are you feeling all right now?”

  “I guess so,” muttered Kate, sheepishly avoiding her gaze. “My hand hurts like crazy.”

  “It will for a while, I’m afraid. It’s going to sting for a couple of days, and then you’ll probably have a scar.”

  “What—what happened to me?” Kate stammered. “All I wanted was to get closer to—”

  “The green pool,” completed her great-aunt grimly. “You were caught in its spell.”

  “Spell?” repeated Kate, incredulous. She looked over at the pool, frothing energetically. The fragrant perfume had vanished, and so had her desire to touch it. “But how could it? Spells aren’t real.”

  “This one is.”

  Kate pursed her lips. “And that bird…the red one that flew into me. Was it part of the spell too?”

  Aunt Melanie stroked her chin. “No, I don’t think so.” She paused, thinking. “It looked like an owl. Maybe a flammulated owl. It’s a rusty color—and small, about the right size. They can be downright feisty. But I’ve never heard of one flying right into somebody like that. And in broad daylight, too, when it should be sleeping.”

  “I still can’t believe there’s some kind of spell.”

  Shaking her head, Aunt Melanie declared, “Then watch this.”

  She thrust the end of her walking stick into the pool. Suddenly, it ceased bubbling. The green liquid seemed to evaporate, and in its place Kate saw thousands upon thousands of the same venomous worms that had been on her hand, writhing over and under each other in one massive heap. They filled the depression that had once been the pool, slithering across rocks that had once been its sides. Then, to her shock, she saw several knobs of white mixed in with the gray rocks, and she recognized them at once.

  “Bones,” she said in horror, drawing her left hand close to her chest. “There are bones in there.”

  Aunt Melanie pulled out the walking stick, and immediately the bubbling pool returned. The green worms, if still there, disappeared in the froth.

  “How does it do that? The stick, I mean.”

  “This stick is, well—unusual,” answered Aunt Melanie, cocking her head to one side. “I’ve only begun to discover what it can do. It’s full of puzzles, like why this owl’s face on the handle looks almost human. I found it on my first trip through the tunnel behind the falls. It was just lying there, as if it were waiting for me. Somehow, it has the power to show what the pool really looks like. Don’t ask me how.”

  She hefted the stick in her hand. “It’s the only thing that saved me when the spell first drew me up here. I forgot all about the Halami chant about deadly green water, though it was one of the first I ever heard:

  Beware of the deadly green water

  That swallows whatever it sees

  You shall not escape from the Stones

  You shall not encounter the Trees.

  I was about to fall in just like you, when the end of the stick happened to slip into the pool. Suddenly, the spell was broken, and I saw everything. Even that wonderful aroma of juniper berries and peppermint—my favorite smells—vanished instantly. Did I ever feel stupid.”

  “You and me both,” said Kate, regaining her feet.

  Aunt Melanie faced the green pool. “Apparently, once the spell’s been broken, it doesn’t affect you again. That’s why it isn’t pulling on us now.”

  Cautiously, Kate stepped nearer to the edge of the boiling liquid. She could not help but wonder how many creatures had been drawn to their death there. “I wonder how it got here,” she said, holding her left hand protectively. “It isn’t natural. No way. And the stream there, where you washed those—those things off my hand, it’s clear as anything. But, look, when the water gets to the pool it turns that horrible green color.”

  Her gaze moved to the assembled boulders. She counted them: There were seven, all deeply cracked. Behind them, a colonnade of eroded lava columns lined the cliff wall, resembling the ribs of a decomposing skeleton. “Something’s weird about these boulders too. They feel—I don’t know, strange.”

  “They should,” replied Aunt Melanie, as she started down the slope toward the lake. “They are the Circle of Stones.”

  “The ones in the legend,” recalled Kate, hustling to catch up to her. “What else do you know about them?”

  “Later,” came the response. “Right now we have to get into the Hidden Forest. Before anyone else does.”

  Kate glanced over her shoulder at the great boulders. “All I know is they make me nervous.”

/>   “That,” answered Aunt Melanie with a mysterious gleam in her eye, “is because they’re watching you.”

  8

  the hidden forest

  AUNT Melanie’s pace quickened as they rounded the last inlet on the lake before the deep woods. Whether she was worried that they would arrive after the loggers, or simply excited to be nearing the Hidden Forest, Kate could not tell. Probably some of both. They stepped rapidly over the buff-colored rocks lining the shore of the steaming lake.

  At last, they approached the deep woods. The jumble of rocks underfoot turned to sand, then soil, then a curvaceous carpet of grass. Several streams of bright water flowed from the forest across the grass to empty into the lake. Mosses, vibrant green, clung to the broken branches that lay on the ground, while small birds chirped in the branches overhead.

  Kate had never seen a meadow so verdant. Her left hand continued to ache, but she gradually grew less aware of it. Flowers—white, yellow, violet—draped the sides of the rivulets. Looking at them instead of where she was going, she thrust her foot into a deep well of mud. She had to lift it out carefully, toes high, to avoid losing her sneaker.

  At the border between the meadow and the forest, she looked back once more at the blue, blue lake. The fog was swiftly returning, making the island seem to glide ghostlike over its surface. How deep this lake must be, she could not even guess. She wondered what strange beings might live within its waters.

  In a few seconds, fog had completely obscured the island, as well as the Circle of Stones some distance above the shore. Billowing clouds now blocked the sun. It would not be long before the day’s first rain would fall, filling the lake and fueling Kahona Falls.

  Stepping across a moss-covered log, she entered the Hidden Forest. At once, she was greeted by the familiar fragrance of resins, needles, berries, cones, leaves, bark, and soil, mixing together in a powerful perfume. Yet this time something was different. These woods smelled older, deeper, and something more, something she could not quite identify. She saw Aunt Melanie, looking smaller than usual against the backdrop of tall trees, disappear behind a double-trunked cedar.