Priests of Ferris

by Maurice Gee

  ‘Yes. I will. I gotter sleep. I gotter learn again.’

  She helped him to lie down.

  ‘Is Nick here?’

  ‘Here I am, Jimmy.’ He knelt on the other side of the old man.

  ‘It’s good to see you both. I waited a long time.’ He sighed and closed his eyes and went to sleep. Susan wiped the tears from his face.

  Jimmy slept all through the day and through the night, while Nick and Susan took turns watching him. The bears came and went, and sniffed at him, making growls of approval. Dawn brought leaves that burned on the fire with the smell of billy tea. The smoke curled round Jimmy’s face and made him smile. Only Limpy was unhappy, thinking of Soona at the Temple. Time was going by. Now there were only thirteen days left.

  ‘Don’t worry, Limpy. We’ll get there.’

  ‘Why can’t we carry him on a stretcher?’

  ‘Because he’s got to wake Ben up. Ben was in his dream.’

  So Limpy searched for stones at the side of the glacier and kept himself busy grinding a new edge on Jimmy’s axe.

  Susan and Nick sat up late by the old man. The fire sank until only a few red embers were left. The stars were very bright, lighting the sky over Mount Nicholas. Dawn was sleeping by the side of the bear she nursed. A friendship had grown up like the one between Jimmy and Ben.

  ‘Do you think Ben will be jealous of us?’ Susan asked.

  They slept, and when they woke the sun was in the sky over the mountain. Jimmy sat between them, gnawing a bone. He wiped his mouth.

  ‘You’re a dozy pair. I thought you’d never wake up.’

  ‘Jimmy! You’re all right.’

  ‘Course I’m all right. I had too much shut-eye, that’s all. Me head feels like I been on a binge.’

  ‘You’ve been asleep for a hundred years.’

  ‘Yer don’t say so. I reckon that must be a bloddy record.’

  ‘Jimmy, do you know what’s happened on O?’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I been talkin’ to yer mate.’ He nodded at Limpy. ‘He’s put a new edge on me axe.’ He spat on the blade and wiped it with his sleeve. ‘That’s a good job, youngker.’

  ‘Did he tell you about Soona?’

  ‘Yeah. We gotter save her. And put a bomb under them bloddy priests. But first I gotter get Ben out of that cave. He ain’t gunner like bein’ woke up.’

  ‘You didn’t like it.’

  ‘It weren’t no picnic.’

  ‘Jimmy, do you know what they call you? The Terrible One.’

  ‘No kiddin’? I don’t feel terrible. I feel bloddy horrible, that’s for sure. Me head’s like a pressure cooker.’

  ‘Jimmy, stop complaining. Have you still got the feather I gave you?’

  ‘Sure I have.’ He felt inside his singlet and pulled out the feather on its string. It flashed red and blue in the morning sun. He turned it round, looking at it. ‘I guess they’re all dead, eh? Wanderer and Redwing?’

  ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘And Brand and Breeze?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It makes yer feel funny.’ He put the feather away. ‘I’ll miss them Woodlanders. An’ them Birdfolk.’

  ‘We miss them too.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He smiled for the first time and patted their knees. ‘It’s good to see you. Thanks for wakin’ me up. Now I gotter wake ole Ben.’

  ‘How did you meet him, Jimmy?’

  ‘I told yer I was gunner do some explorin’, didn’ I? Well, I come down here. Come over the pass, an’ I saw this mountain, an’ I thought, that’ll do fer young Nick. Do yer like it, youngker?’

  ‘It’s great.’

  ‘I named something after you too, Susie. But I’ll show yer that another day. Anyway, I come down to the river, an’ I went out spearin’ salmon by the mouth, big ones, big as yer leg. An’ when I looked round, there was this bloddy great bear standin’ there lookin’ at me, lickin’ ’is chops just like I was breakfast. Well, I thinks, this is it, the end of the road fer Jimmy. There was nowhere to run. And me axe wouldn’t be no good, not against him. You wait till yer see ’im, then yer’ll know.’

  ‘We’ve seen him in the cave.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. Ole Ben.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothin’ to do. I sat down. I’ll show ’im I’m not scared, I thinks. Me hands was shakin’ so bad I stuck ’em in me armpits to hold ’em still. An’ then I thinks, I’ll stare ’im out. I’ll hypnotize the bogger. Show ‘im who’s boss. If I blinks first he can have me. I thought I stood a pretty good chance, yer see. I’m good at starin’ out. It’s a trick I learned to keep me out of fights. But these bears … ’ He laughed. ‘Have yer seen their eyes? They never blink. They can go all day. Course, I didn’t know that. Well, I sat there lookin’, an’ he sits back on his haunches an’ looks at me, steady like, but kind of grinnin’, like he’s not too hungry yet, he doesn’t mind wastin’ a bit of time. An’ we go on all the mornin’, an’ I ain’t had no breakfast, see, I’m starvin’, an’ there’s these three or four bloddy great salmon lyin’ right at me feet an’ I can’t eat ’em. By this time I can tell he’s startin’ to have a bit of respec’ fer me. He’s not lookin’ so sure of himself, an’ I think, maybe he’s gettin’ tired of the game, but we’ve got a kind of agreement see, an’ he can’t eat me till it’s over. So I think, I might as well die with me belly full, an’ I say to ’im, “How about time out fer lunch?” No answer. He just growls. That’s not a nice sound. But still, I can’t help thinkin’ about them salmon. I think of them baked and I think of them grilled. There’s pictures of salmon floatin’ in me mind. An’ then something funny happens. It’s like he sees them, and he shows me one of his. It’s there, in me mind, clear as daylight, a picture of this bear eatin’ salmon. An’ he gets up and walks over to me, never blinkin’, and he nudges one of them fish closer to me, an’ the greedy so an’ so, he keeps three for himself. “Well, thanks,” I says, an’ then real slow, so’s he knows what I’m doing, I closes me eyes. An’ yer know what he does? He laughs. They do, yer know. It’s somethin’ yer don’t hear often. An’ he closes his eye, just one of them. He winks at me.

  ‘So we had a picnic. I got some driftwood and made a fire and baked me fish, and he swallers his in a couple of gulps, and we moves further up the sand, cause the tide’s comin’ in, an’ yer know what happens then, just when I think everything’s hunky dory an’ me an’ this bear is mates? He sits down, an’ he starts starin’ at me. An’ we’re off again. Yeah. The starin’ match. We just been havin’ a rest, that’s all. He starts it up again, an’ I know I’m right back where I started – if I blinks he’s goin’ to eat me.’

  ‘Oh, Jimmy.’

  ‘It’s no laughin’ matter. After lunch I likes to have a sleep. But here I am fightin’ fer me life. And after a while I figures the only chance I got is to give ’im a fright. Make ’im blink that way. So I start tellin’ stories. Like, I think of a bomb, I make this picture, see, and suddenly it goes off. Boom! Or I think of a track in the bush an’ I show the bear walkin’ down it, an’ suddenly he falls in a bloddy great bear trap. That sort of thing. But it’s no use. He just sits there grinnin’. So I tell ’im the story of my life. ‘E’s interested. There’s something about the Earth that surprises ’im, specially when I show ’im polar bears and grizzlies. Then I gets on to O. An’ I show ’im the fight with Odo Cling, all that stuff, an’ ’e knows about Cling, ’e don’t like ’im. I can tell ’e’s impressed, specially when I chucks Cling orf that cliff. I think that maybe he’s startin’ to like me a bit. But does ’e blink? No ’e don’t. An’ my eyes is achin’. They feel like hard-boiled eggs. An’ I know that any minute now I’m goin’ ter keel over. It’s nearly night time, see? We been goin’ all through the afternoon. An’ I says to meself, this is it. Goodnight Jimmy. I’m past carin’ any more. An’ then, you know what ’e does, ole Ben? Just as me eyes starts to close?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No.’

  �
�He closes his. Easy as you like. Closes ’em up.’

  ‘He let you win?’

  ‘He let me.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Me? I stands up. I goes to ’im, barin’ me teeth, real fierce. I makes it like I’m havin’ ’im fer dinner. I’m the winner, after all. An’ then I lie down on the sand an’ I go to sleep. An’ the last thing I hear as I pass out is ole Ben laughin’.’

  ‘And you’ve been friends ever since?’

  ‘Sure. Me and Ben. We went explorin’. Way up north, but that was too hot for Ben, so we came south. When the straits iced up in winter we crossed over an’ had a look down there. An’ we went out east, past Mount Morningstar. We had five years explorin’, me and Ben. Then I had me dream and we went to sleep. Now I better get in there and wake ’im up. ’E’s a lazy ole coot.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Nick said.

  They went into the cave and Nick and Limpy held torches while Jimmy chopped Ben free. It took all morning, and rolling Ben out and levering him into the creek the rest of the day. The firelight played on the ice, making blue gleams slide across it. Ben lay on his back, with his paws upraised and his yellow claws pointing like flames.

  The next day Jimmy chopped the ice away. Ben was too heavy to lift from the stream, so the other bears stood in the water licking him. It was another day before he was warm. Then Jimmy sent everyone away.

  ‘It ain’t gunner be pretty. Ole Ben’s likely to bust a few things up. An’ he’ll be hungry. So you youngkers keep out of sight.’

  ‘How will you wake him?’

  Jimmy grinned. ‘I’ll whistle a tune.’

  They crossed the glacier and climbed into the bush on the other side. Soon they heard the bear bellowing. The sound made the valley boom and tumbled boulders on Mount Nicholas. The glacier seemed to groan and shift. The sound went on and on, making them ache with pain. Dawn stood leaning on the wounded bear, comforting her. The others knelt on the ground with their heads down, trying to blot the noise out with their arms. When silence came at last they had no strength to stand up again.

  Later in the day they saw the bears hauling the carcass of a boar over the glacier for Ben to eat. In the dusk Jimmy and Ben made their way back, moving side by side in the towers of ice. The whole party went down to the river, where Nick and Limpy built a fire. Ben walked as though drunk, and Jimmy was exhausted. Both sank down in the warmth and were asleep in minutes. The other bears slept further off in the trees. The children heard them sighing and coughing. The events of the last few days had overwhelmed them. Everyone, bears and humans, seemed dazed by the miracle of Jimmy’s and Ben’s return.

  The fire died down and they slept. The last faint sunset glow faded quietly from Mount Nicholas.

  Chapter Seven

  Stonehaven

  Jimmy drew a map on the ground. ‘This is us. Mount Nicholas. The river. And Sheercliff is up here. There’s two ways we can go. Over the pass, the way you came, or out to the coast and up through Wildwood. That’s the way I’d go, I reckon it’s shorter.’

  Limpy made a cross on the coast. ‘That is Stonehaven. I’d like to stop and tell my parents I’m safe.’

  ‘No reason why not,’ Jimmy said. ‘So let’s get started.’

  Dawn said goodbye to the wounded bear. She stood conversing silently, and had a smile on her mouth as they started off. ‘I’ve promised to come back. We are like Jimmy and Ben,’ she told Susan.

  Five Varg escorted them to the coast. They walked down the river bank for an hour, then turned north-west through the bush, climbing on trails that led over hills and down a creek to the sea. Towards nightfall a young bear scouting ahead came loping back. He and Ben and Jimmy and the Varg talked for a moment and Susan had an impression of images flashing back and forth, too quick for her to see. But she glimpsed, or thought she glimpsed, figures in white.

  ‘Dawn?’

  ‘Yes. Priests.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Down on the beach. It is the party that tried to kill my friend.’

  Jimmy came to them. ‘There’s a dozen of ’em. They’ve anchored for the night.’

  ‘Have they got dogs?’

  ‘No, not on boats.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Kill ’em.’

  ‘No… ’

  ‘Come with me, Susie. I’ll show you something.’

  They went down the trail, moving quietly, and came to the edge of a bluff overlooking the beach. They lay in the trees and ferns looking at the priests. Some were cooking meat at a fire. Others sat cross-legged on the sand, meditating over their Ferris bones. And a third group was pegging something out between the trees and the high-water line. They gleamed white in their leather suits. The sea, bush, sand – it was peaceful, beautiful, Susan thought. She could not believe killing was going to start. There was no reason for it.

  ‘Jimmy …?’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s gotter be. Don’t yer see what they got down there?’ He pointed at the priests beyond the fire. She thought for a moment they were pegging out mats, blue/white mats. Then she saw.

  ‘Varg skins?’

  ‘Three of them,’ Nick said.

  ‘They’re trophies,’ Jimmy said. ‘They come down here hunting. They kill the Varg and hang their skins in their temples. So when they gets the chance the Varg kill them. That’s the way it is.’

  ‘The priests kill everything that lives,’ Limpy said. ‘Now it’s their turn.’

  ‘I couldn’t stop these bears if I wanted to,’ Jimmy said. ‘Look at ole Ben.’

  The other bears were used to priests, they stood waiting, patient, but the old bear was rolling his head in grief and rage. His body was swaying from side to side.

  ‘I never seen ’im like this. He’s going to charge,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘Don’t you go, Jimmy.’

  ‘Where he goes, I go. Wish me luck.’

  ‘They’ve got cross-bows.’

  Jimmy gripped his axe. ‘An’ I got this.’ He went into the bush, moving along the edge of the bluff, and a moment later Susan saw him in the trees at the edge of the sand. The five Varg spread out on either side. Then they waited. Waited for old Ben.

  Up on the bluff Dawn drew the others back into the bush. ‘Hide yourselves. When his rage bursts out he will kill whatever he sees.’

  They lay and watched Ben. And at last something broke in the old bear. The shock of it lifted him, propelled him forward over the bluff, roaring. The children ran to the edge and saw him ploughing down, braced on his legs, spraying stones and dust out on both sides. Jimmy and the Varg were charging across the beach, and the priests were scattering, some for the bush, others for the water. Two or three managed to load their cross-bows as they ran.

  Dawn and Susan did not stay to watch. They went back into the bush, and Nick joined them a moment later, his face pale. They stood in the trees listening to the fight – a roaring of bears, a shrieking of men, and now and then the twanging of a bow string – until at last it fell to isolated shouts and cries of pain. Limpy came running through the trees. He too was pale but his eyes were gleaming. ‘It’s over. They’re all dead.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Every one. They never had a chance.’

  ‘Is Jimmy all right?’

  ‘Yes. One of the bears is dead.’

  ‘Not Ben?’

  ‘No. We’ll wait here a while. The bears are feasting.’

  They waited until they heard Jimmy calling, then followed Ben’s path, sliding down the bluff. The bears had dragged the remains of the priests into the bush. They were digging in the sand above the tide line, making a grave for their dead companion. He had taken a cross-bow bolt in his throat. When the grave was ready they rolled him in and laid the bear skins on him for burial too. The children picked up broken Ferris bones and took them to the grave.

  ‘They’re human bones, Jimmy. Can we put them in?’

  They filled the grave and stood by it for
a moment, not knowing what to do. But Susan saw how peaceful the bay would be when they had gone – a good place for the final resting. She wished the priests could have been buried too.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind havin’ me own grave here,’ Jimmy said.

  They sat on the sand while the bears swam, washing blood from their fur.

  ‘Where do we go tomorrow, Jimmy?’

  ‘Up the coast.’

  ‘We’ve lost half a day coming here,’ Limpy said.

  ‘Not if you’re as good a sailor as you say.’ He nodded at the priests’ boat, anchored off the beach. ‘Do you reckon you could take ’er out?’

  Limpy looked at the boat, rising and falling on the gentle waves. ‘She’s got a triple hull. She’s built for speed.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I can sail her.’

  ‘Will she take all of us?’

  ‘She took twelve priests.’

  ‘O.K. You’re the captain. You’d better go and have a look at your ship.’

  Limpy and Nick and Susan swam out to the boat. Limpy checked the rigging and ropes and Nick and Susan the supplies. They dropped most of the priests’ belongings overboard. Susan found an image of her, with eagle wings outspread and a look of foolish holiness on her face. It made her shiver and she threw it overboard with the rest. But she kept a little book of her ‘sayings’. ‘Listen, Nick. “Those who believe in me shall fly in Earth, but the unbeliever shall fall and a breaking of bones shall be his punishment.” ’

  ‘When are you supposed to have said that?’

  She turned back to the beginning and read quickly.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Nick said. ‘You appeared in a vision to the first High Priest and he wrote it all down.’

  ‘That’s it. That’s it exactly.’

  ‘He must have been a pretty smart operator.’

  They slept on the beach, all except Limpy, who could not be persuaded off the boat. He brought it in close in the dawn and the others climbed aboard. Ben settled himself by the deck-house and would not be moved, but Limpy gave the others a lesson on sailing. He showed them how to set sails and keep them trimmed and what to do when the boat jibed. But the wind was a southerly, he said. They would run before it all the way to Stonehaven.