Shadows on the Mountain, page 20
She had come up at the edge of the pool, where water eddied and swirled, tinged with brown foam. Chase dragged herself onto the bank, but she could not allow herself to lie down. If she had escaped the terrible suffocating weight of the waterfall, perhaps Seek—
She gave a cry of distress. There, a little way along and bumping against the bank in the current, floated a limp and sodden bundle of dark yellow fur. She raced to Seek’s side, plunged her forepaws into the water, and hauled him out.
Oh please, Great Spirit, PLEASE don’t let him die!
She couldn’t allow it. She would never forgive herself. It was all her fault. She rolled him over onto his back and licked frantically at his face.
“Wake up, Seek! Get up! Please!”
There was no response. Grief surged through her. You have to wake up!
She rolled him again, onto his belly, and shoved her nose under him, trying to force him to stand. Seek’s body arched, hanging limp over her muzzle, his paws dangling.
And then, miraculously, Seek’s whole body gave a violent jerk. He gave a hacking cough, and muddy river water poured from his mouth and nostrils.
Chase jerked away in shock, and he flopped to the ground. Then she nuzzled him, urging him up. “Seek! Seek! You’re alive!”
He staggered groggily to his paws and fell over again, coughing up more water. Once again he made himself stand, as Chase licked and licked at his pelt, cleaning him of river mud and warming his shivering bones.
At last, they collapsed back onto the bank together, curled up around each other for warmth. Chase went on licking at the cub’s ears and head. She sniffed at the double puncture wounds on his forepaw and washed them with her tongue. There were more higher up his leg. She didn’t know how many times he’d been bitten, or how venomous the snakes were.
“I thought we were dead,” whimpered the cub.
“The Great Spirit must be smiling on us, Seek. We survived the snakes and that fall. I don’t know how.” Chase’s voice grew soft. “But there’s something I do know for sure.”
“What’s that?” Seek mumbled into her chest fur.
“You’re not someone else’s cub. I was stupid to think that. You’re my cub. Mine. I’m not going to protect you because I owe it to our mothers.”
She nuzzled his nose and lashed his face with her tongue.
“I’m going to protect you because I am your mother now.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Moonflower? Dayflower?”
Bramble was almost afraid to whisper, but he had to. His head throbbed, and reaching up he felt a lump under the skin. He had no clue where his headlong flight had taken him, in the bowels of this terrible mountain. The mindless panic had faded at last, draining all the energy from his body, leaving him bereft and utterly lost. He must find the others.
How far had he come before his accident? Perhaps Moonflower and Dayflower weren’t even together anymore. It could be that the three gorillas were all alone now, fated to wander solitary in the darkness until they died miserable and thirsty and starving.
Panic almost choked him. He cried out louder: “Moonflower!”
“Bramble! Bramble, where are you?”
“Moonflower!” He turned, then twisted again. It was so hard to tell the direction of the sound. It didn’t sound close.
“Bramble! Brother!” The echoes reverberated in the darkness, ricocheting and dwindling to silence.
He must move, he realized. He could not stay here, lost forever and alone, yet afraid to seek his friends and salvation. Gritting his trembling jaws, Bramble reached out to feel the cold stone of the tunnel walls. He took a deep, unsteady breath, and began to creep back the way he had come. At least, I hope it’s the way I came. . . . With each step, the pain in his head made him feel sick and weak.
He shuddered violently, tensed his muscles, gritted his teeth. There was no choice! He had to keep moving. Another step in the lightless tunnel, and another. He thought perhaps the stone was rising beneath his feet and fists.
There was a shuffling noise from farther along the tunnel, and unsteady breathing. His heartbeat rising and pulsing in his throat, Bramble edged forward.
He was sure the sounds were coming closer, and he must not start to believe that was wishful thinking. He swallowed hard and blinked.
The blink . . . something was different. He frowned and blinked again, more slowly this time.
Now he was sure of it. It wasn’t light, exactly. But there was a difference between his eyes being shut and being open. Almost . . . a lesser darkness . . .
Seemingly out of nowhere and nothingness, Bramble felt a warm hand clasp his arm. Relief and gratitude swamped him; he would recognize his sister’s touch even if the light had deserted him forever.
“Bramble! Thank the Spirit I’ve found you. We didn’t know what had happened.”
Bramble squeezed Moonflower’s hand, then hugged her tightly. “I hit my head, but I’m all right now,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know where your mother is?”
“Just a little farther along.” Moonflower cuddled him fiercely against her, then drew back. As she did so, Bramble thought he saw the gleam of her eyes against the blackness. “We’ve found a way out!”
“Really?” It came out in a gasping sob.
“Truly! You must have run right past it yourself!” There was giddy laughter in Moonflower’s voice. “We all panicked back there, and things could have ended badly. But the Great Spirit brought us straight to another of its vents!”
Moonflower dropped to all fours, and the two young gorillas bounded along the narrowing passageway, Bramble staying so close to his sister, he trod a few times on her heels. When he actually began to make out her haunches in front of him, he could barely believe it; but it was no illusion. A faint glow outlined Moonflower in silver. Around one more corner, he saw a ragged triangle of light, so unexpected it almost dazzled him.
Against the light stood Dayflower, beckoning to them both. She gave them a huge smile. “Here’s our way out!”
“This is amazing!” gabbled Bramble. “Wonderful!”
“Amazing, wonderful, and too small right now.” Dayflower laughed. “But with a bit of effort, we can make our way out in no time.”
“Then let’s start digging,” suggested Dayflower. “I for one can’t wait to see the sun again!”
They set to moving the tumble of rocks and boulders and scraping away at compacted earth and tangled roots. It was hard going. Bramble’s muscles ached and he was out of breath, but nothing now could stop him digging feverishly with the others. His nails were chipped and cracked, his hands bruised, but the scent of the fresh mountain air was a constant goad to dig faster. And with every moment, with every grunt of effort, the crack of the vent was visibly widening: light flooded in to meet them, like a long golden thorn piercing the blackness.
“Moonflower, do you think you could make it through now?” asked Dayflower. The old gorilla sounded exhausted, but hopeful. “There’s not much more we can do from this side. . . .”
“I think I can.” Moonflower turned to hug her mother. “If Bramble and I can squeeze through, maybe we can clear that big root from the other side and shift that rock.” She slapped the edge of the awkward boulder.
“If you can move those, I’m sure the gap will be big enough for me.” Dayflower sounded breathless with hope.
“I’m certain we can,” said Moonflower firmly. “I promise we won’t be long, Mother!”
Hugging Dayflower fiercely, she drew away with a smile, ducked, and began to haul herself awkwardly through the uneven gap.
“Nearly there,” came her muffled cry. “Give me a shove, Bramble!”
Together, Bramble and Dayflower pushed hard on Moonflower’s haunches. With a last vigorous wriggle, the young gorilla slithered and tumbled out into the mountain air.
Stumbling upright, Moonflower turned, stretching happily. “You next, Bramble!”
He turned to Dayflower, suddenly reluctant to leave her, but she smiled.
“Go on, Bramble. The sooner you and Moonflower widen the vent, the sooner I can get out!”
Bramble nodded and grinned. “See you soon, Dayflower Mistback!”
He gripped the edges of the hole with his fingers and wriggled through. Moonflower’s exit had widened the hole a little, but it was still an effort to drag himself through. No way, though, was he going to stop and go back. His sides scraped painfully against thick roots, and he grazed his knuckles on the edge of that stubborn boulder, but he clenched his jaws in determination. His head and arms were in the open air; as soon as one shoulder was free, Moonflower grabbed it and tugged him the rest of the way.
Kicking and flailing in a shower of loose earth, Bramble felt himself pop free of the mountain. He staggered upright. It felt wonderful to stand on the cool hillside; sunlight dappled the small glade where he and Moonflower stood, and his head was light with the clearness of the air. This place was not unlike their own Spirit Mouth, though as far as Bramble could tell from the sun’s position, this vent was on the eastern flank of the mountain. Trees rose cool and green overhead, insects buzzed around them, and the canopy was filled with trills and cries and birdsong. Instead of that foul smoke, the scents of leaf and flower filled Bramble’s nostrils.
“Come on, Moonflower.” He grinned. “It’s time your mother enjoyed this, too!”
The two young gorillas set to work with renewed energy, yanking at roots and stones and digging so fast and eagerly into the earth, they showered themselves with dirt. Dayflower poked her head through the opening and inhaled the air with a blissful sigh. “I can’t wait to be out there.”
“It gets better!” Moonflower laughed.
“And you were right about the boulder, Dayflower.” Bramble gripped its top edge with both forepaws and propped his feet against the packed soil that surrounded it. He swung out once, twice, and struck the boulder with his feet. “From this side, it won’t be a problem. It’s loosening already.”
Moonflower joined him, gripping the boulder and pulling with him.
“One-two-three-shove,” grunted Bramble. “One-two-three—”
Moonflower gave a cry of triumph as the huge stone cracked loose from the earth and roots that held it. It sagged out; swiftly Bramble and Moonflower dodged out of its way, and Bramble clambered up the slope to push it from above. With a roaring crash, the slab came suddenly loose, tumbling down the slope toward the edge of the glade.
“Well done!” exclaimed Dayflower. “I can get through now, I’m sure of it!”
Shifting the boulder had made a big difference to the gap. Moonflower’s eyes shone as her mother began to wriggle through, dislodging pebbles and earth.
It was still a tight squeeze for a fully grown gorilla, thought Bramble, but Dayflower was close to freedom . . . so close . . . Her shoulders were clear of the gap, and now her arms. . . . Bramble clenched his fists in excitement.
The old gorilla’s eyes met his, and she smiled.
In the time it took Bramble to return her grin, Dayflower’s expression changed. Delight turned to an awful terror. Her jaws opened in a gasp of horror, and her eyes widened till the whites showed around her pale brown eyes.
“Moonflower!” she shrieked. “Help me!”
As Bramble gaped in confusion, Dayflower’s body jerked backward. He lunged toward her, grabbing one flailing arm, and Moonflower seized the other one.
“What is it?” cried Moonflower. “What’s happening?”
Another great jolt pulled Dayflower back again. She screamed.
“It’s got me. Help!”
“I don’t understand!” cried Bramble. “What’s got you?”
But even as his mind reeled in bewilderment, he stood up, propping his feet against the rocks and hauling with all his might. Moonflower was pulling desperately at her mother’s arm, yet the old gorilla, wriggling and struggling and sobbing with fear, slipped inexorably backward into the cavern.
“Don’t let me go!” screamed Dayflower. “Please, by the Spirit, hold on!”
Whatever had her was stronger than both of them. Moonflower lost her grip, falling back; Bramble was yanked in after Dayflower. Only his scrabbling feet against a boulder saved him. He fought to hold on, but as his head and shoulders were dragged into the darkness again, he caught sight of something behind the Mistback in the darkness, something huge and coiled and sinuous. The feeble light of the vent flickered and gleamed on colossal scales.
“What is it?” cried Dayflower, her eyes even more broadly white-rimmed now and bright with utter terror. “What can you see?”
Bramble’s heart thundered with fear and horror as he gazed into her eyes. “It’s . . . I don’t . . .”
And then, with a powerful jerk, the old gorilla’s arm slipped through his fingers. Dayflower gave one last, despairing scream. And then the darkness swallowed her.
Bramble kicked violently back, bringing clods of earth down on himself as he squirmed backward out of the hole. Something huge smashed against the interior of the vent, as if it was coming after him, and Bramble gave a hoarse scream.
Rocks cascaded down both inside and outside the vent, and he barely managed to scrabble away before they hit him. But Moonflower sprang forward, and it was all Bramble could do to stop her leaping through the tumbling rockfall in pursuit of Dayflower.
The roar and crash of the rocks seemed to go on for an eternity. When the hillside settled once more and the last stone rumbled to a halt against a tree, a grim silence fell.
“Mother!” Moonflower’s shriek shattered the stillness and sent flocks of birds fluttering from the canopy. “Bramble, get her back! We have to go in again!”
“You can’t!” Bramble wrestled his sister back, dragging her to the ground as she kicked and yelled. “The rockfall has blocked the vent.”
“We’ll move the rocks!”
“Moonflower, no!” Bramble yelled desperately. “Even if we managed that—it’ll take us too!”
“It? What was it? Let me get her back!”
“You can’t!” Bramble flung himself on top of her, holding her down as she snarled in grief-stricken fury. “Moonflower. You’ve got to believe me. We couldn’t fight that thing. Please.”
“You still haven’t said!” Her eyes blazed, but Bramble felt her body go limp as exhaustion caught up with her. Panting, she glared up at him, her eyes red. “What was it?”
“I . . . I’m not sure myself.” Bramble too was gasping for breath. Hesitantly, he staggered up; Moonflower made no attempt to bolt back toward the vent. “It was bad, Moonflower. Scales, like a snake, but so big . . .” Another great shudder went through his bones.
Rolling over, she pounded the earth with her fists. “Why, Great Spirit? She was nearly free!”
She collapsed to the ground again. Bramble bounded to her side. If he couldn’t explain what had happened—if he was barely capable of describing the thing he’d seen—the least he could do was cradle his sister as she wept for her mother.
After a time, he pulled away and went back to the blocked vent. The rock was packed tightly, and some pieces were clearly too large to move. Whatever that thing had been—whatever took Moonflower’s mother—it had no chance of escaping this way.
The two young gorillas sat without speaking for a while, surrounded by birdsong and the scents of the forest. It didn’t feel half so beautiful as it had when they first escaped the mountain.
But we are alive, thought Bramble. That has to matter. The Great Spirit spared us.
His head twisted as he heard a voice calling out, distantly through the trees.
“That’s Woodnettle,” he murmured. “Burbark’s thugs must be checking all the neighboring valleys, and they’re coming this way.”
Moonflower nodded, wiping her face, clearing her throat. Her face was set in a grim scowl. “We can’t let them win. Not now.”
Dropping to all fours, the two gorillas bounded through the trees. At every turn, Bramble heard the rough deep voices of the Blackbacks, and he began to despair. Where can we go? They can’t help but find us.
He and Moonflower scrabbled to a halt on a ridge. Below them, an escarpment stretched down toward a series of stone ledges. There was no clear path down.
“That looks dangerous,” said Moonflower.
“We can’t turn back,” Bramble replied. He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re getting closer!”
Moonflower took a deep breath. She seized his hand.
“I won’t let Woodnettle seal me up in that place again,” she growled. “Are you ready, brother?”
“I’m ready.”
Together, they began to pick their way down onto the precipitous slope.
There was no chance of keeping their footing. Bramble’s went from under him straightaway, and he slid on his rump, tumbling down the hillside, hitting stones and snatching at trees and branches in a desperate attempt to slow himself. Off to his right he caught glimpses of Moonflower, who fared no better; she was slithering backward, clutching uselessly at the ground, panic in her eyes.
The slide seemed to go on forever, but at last Bramble jolted to a painful halt on level ground. He lay immobile with shock for a moment, then tentatively began testing hands and feet to make sure they still worked. Nothing broken.
Moonflower stumbled over to him. Her fur was dusty and bedraggled, but she too had escaped without serious harm. Bramble shut his eyes and breathed out in relief.
She squatted beside him. “So where now?” Her voice sounded very small and frightened.
Bramble opened his eyes again and struggled up to a sitting position. They had landed on a broad ledge of sandstone that jutted out over . . . well, he could not describe it as a valley. It was a vast, sweeping plain that stretched to a misty horizon he could barely make out. Gullies and rivers made ragged green and silver lines, and flat-topped acacias dotted the near distance; beyond that, the land was blurred by a shimmer of distance. He could make out birds soaring over the plains, but they were no more than tiny dots. And farther out on the great sea of yellow grass, those might be vast herds of wildebeests and gazelles. . . . It all looked so open, so impossibly wide and long, so exposed.
