Cale and the Hidden Stones, page 12
“Is everything okay?” he asked his uncle.
“Eh,” Uncle Andrew said, looking up from the letter, as if surprised to see Cale sitting there. “No, nothing wrong. Just something your father wants me to do,” he said. His voice dropped and he continued mumbling to himself as if Cale were forgotten. “Haven’t done that for a long time,” he said quietly. “Guess I should. Anne says it’s important. Just can’t. Not going back again. Left all that behind. Too much to ask.”
Later in the morning Cale’s father arrived and the two men immediately began an animated conversation. As it got heated, they moved to the front of the house. Cale’s father wasn’t having much luck convincing his brother-in-law about something, and the raised voice was mostly his.
Cale felt uncomfortable and went outside. He was expecting Peter and Rosie. They had not all got together since the trip south and Cale was anxious to start searching for the last piece of stone. He had a growing sense of urgency.
Rosie and then Peter arrived.
“Do you have it?” asked Cale. Peter knew what he meant and hefted his backpack.
“It’s been difficult,” he said. “Strange things seem to happen. I’m not sure keeping at my house is a good idea.”
“We need to find a hiding place,” said Rosie, who understood the difficulty, “and I know where.”
So Cale and Rosie led Peter deep into the mysterious yard of the back house, through the two fences and the deserted laneway. Peter was astounded by the depths hidden behind the leafy suburban house.
They found a hiding place for the fragment of stone, different to where the first was hidden.
“We need to keep it separate from the other,” said Cale, instinctively knowing that was a good idea.
They took Peter to see the first fragment.
“Wow,” he said. “Just like mine. This is very cool.”
***
The weather outside had turned cold and showery. Inside the old greenhouse it was more pleasant. The brief appearance of the morning sun had warmed the air and Cale lounged on an old deck chair while the other two children sat on an old wooden crate and a tattered kitchen chair. Cale had supplied biscuits; large, round, and oaten. Now they could discuss the third stone and how to complete the task.
“You must be a constant guardian,” repeated Cale reading from his notebook.
“But that doesn’t help us,” complained Rosie through a mouthful of biscuit. “With the other two we knew where to look. They stashed the stones and we found them. This guy could be anywhere by now.”
“He’s likely long dead,” responded Cale with sudden insight. “Isn’t it obvious that this happened a long time ago? He would have passed the stone onto someone younger. And passed on again and again. Like an heirloom. Perhaps it is lost now. It could be anywhere.”
They all considered this and were glum.
“This is all we’ve got to go on,” concluded Cale. “It isn’t enough.”
He flung his notebook onto the crate that acted as a table and picked up his reading book. He would lose himself in a strange world of rotund Finnish trolls. Rosie looked at Peter and rolled her eyes. She was also frustrated by the dead end they had reached but wasn’t going to withdraw from the struggle as Cale was doing. Peter had said little. He was a slow thinker and the conversation had gone back and forth between Cale and Rosie with little input from him.
“We need to go back,” he said eventually into the silence.
Cale looked up from his book and Rosie smiled.
“Go back to where this started,” he continued, though Cale and Rosie had got it immediately. They would go back to Karratha in the north and visit the place where Cale had seen it all begin. They knew so much more now than Cale had then. Perhaps there was more to be revealed.
“You’re brilliant,” said Rosie. Peter beamed. No one had ever called him brilliant. “Okay,” continued Rosie, enthusiastic now that she had a tangible problem to get stuck into, “how do we get there?”
This was more difficult and after a while they all sat back again, deflated. Karratha was much more difficult than a day’s outing. Cale’s family had driven through a day and a night when they came down. Often it was a two- or three-day journey by car. Rosie and Peter had never been that far north. They heard a noise outside and the door opened, letting in a little of the cool air and Cale’s father.
“Hello, Cale,” he said nodding at the other two, “I was looking for you.” He sat on an upturned milk crate. “I’m going back north, to Karratha, for a few days,” he continued. “There is a prospect I need to visit.”
“What’s a prospect?” asked Peter.
“It’s a site that might contain some valuable deposits,” Cale’s father said. “I found it a few years ago, with Andrew, and I need to have another look at it.”
There was something he wasn’t saying. There was some importance to the sudden trip, but the reason wasn’t clear.
“Is Uncle Andrew going with?” Cale asked, wondering if this was the cause of the mysterious argument.
“No, he isn’t,” his father replied shortly. He had lost that argument and was peeved as a result. His brother-in-law had a knack for this kind of work, but he hadn’t gone north for many years and couldn’t be convinced. He had become more and more stubborn as Cale’s father argued with him, to the point that his pleading fell on deaf ears.
“Can I come with?” asked Cale, surprising his father who responded without thinking.
“Okay,” he said, pleased that Cale had offered to go with him.
“Can we come too?” asked Rosie.
This was too big an ask and Cale’s father shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that. Just Cale will be enough.” He was starting to have second thoughts about Cale accompanying him, but then he saw the broad smile on his son’s face and sighed. This was not going to plan.
Cale promised his two friends that he was just going to get information and would likely not find anything. Secretly, he hoped to find the last fragment, and they both knew it. But there was nothing they could do.
Cale and his father left later that day.
Cale sat in the front with his father, who wasn’t sure how he’d ended up taking his son. From the time the trip had become a necessity it seemed to run out of his control. Life had been tough since they left the north, and he carried a heavy burden for the trouble he’d brought on his family. The job had seemed too good to refuse, but the company was struggling after a series of technical faults and a fall in the market. His wife had found it hard to settle into the little country town and Cale had struggled at school, at least until recently. The older children weren’t happy but were doing okay. He was glad to have a good excuse to get away and clear his mind. And this trip could solve their money problems if he could just find something useful at their old site. He was sure the prospect was good.
The car radio spoke of a low-pressure system forming out to sea. This worried Cale’s father, but the low-pressure system might never become a cyclone, and even if it did become the destructive scourge of the north, it would take many days to form. His opportunity for success was narrowing but he would not be deterred. Cale had his own thoughts and they spoke little. The drive was long and tedious as they travelled through the night, arriving the next day.
***
Cale’s father had arranged to stay at a friend’s house while the friend was away.
The house was typical of the large coastal mining town; solid cream-coloured building blocks, corrugated metal roof, metal mesh cyclone shutters protecting the windows, and a dusty red tinge to everything. The yard was neat and tidy but barren of plants, the ground being flat and hard. Nothing was left loose on the ground to become a deadly missile in the powerful wind of a cyclone.
They climbed out of the car; they were tired, smelly, and hot. Even though this was the start of the cooler weather it was still considerably warmer than the wet and cold south they had left more than a full day earlier. Cale’s father found the house key under a flat stone near the front door, as arranged. Cale felt a sudden nostalgia as they entered the house, being reminded of their own home which they had left less than three months ago. Yet it seemed a lifetime ago.
“Time for some rest,” said Cale’s father, “and then to work tomorrow.”
***
Meanwhile in the city Rosie’s mother was in two minds, which is to say she couldn’t decide what to do about Rosie, which itself was nothing unusual. Since Rosie had become friends with the boy from next door, life had actually been easier. Rosie was occupied and not with mischief, and she had gone away during the holidays, creating a period of blessed peace and quiet at home. Now the boy had gone away again. Rosie was in a mood and the house was in turmoil. At least there was the other boy whom they had befriended while on the trip south. She had met him once or twice. He was a little slow, but Rosie seemed to tolerate him so he can’t have been too dull. Rosie and the other boy met at the old man’s house, even though her neighbour’s nephew had gone away with his father. All very odd, but the peace was not unwelcome.
She may have been more worried if she knew what the children were plotting.
Since Cale’s departure their anxiety had grown steadily. They felt that something wasn’t right and that they needed to be helping Cale, not stuck in the city. The feeling was so strong that they had decided to approach Uncle Andrew for help. It was a desperate plan. They found him in his kitchen.
“I believe you,” Uncle Andrew said, to their surprise, when they explained that Cale needed their help. He had immediately been swept up by their sense of urgency. “No time to waste. Follow me,” he said.
He locked the back door and led them down a path that wound through the overgrown back yard and past the greenhouse. Reaching the back fence, he located a latch in the otherwise seamless pickets and a section pivoted. They slipped through into the backyard of the house behind. Rosie automatically moved to the secret gate in the next fence and pushed the fence section to open it.
“You knew,” said Uncle Andrew as the gate swung open.
“Of course we knew,” replied Rosie without shame. “We can keep a secret too!”
“Humph,” snorted Uncle Andrew, secretly pleased that his nephew was both clever and discreet, and that he chose his friends well.
Uncle Andrew had been easily convinced that Cale was in trouble and needed help because he’d felt this himself and couldn’t explain why. He had been feeling the urgency all day. The need to go north and help his nephew had overwhelmed the reluctance that had seen him refuse his brother-in-law’s request.
He had completely backflipped.
Caution was thrown to the wind and impulse was the order of the day. He acted like a man possessed, preparing to drive north without packing a bag, taking two children without their parent’s permission, and risking his treasured car on a mad venture. He felt alive.
Rosie and Peter went separate ways for a few minutes, meeting him again near porch of the back house. He didn’t notice their heavier backpacks or shared look. They wouldn’t go to help Cale empty handed.
“Where do you keep the car?” asked Rosie.
“Ha, you didn’t work that out, did you?” replied Uncle Andrew.
He led them to the fence on the right side of the house and found another hidden gate. This led into the yard of the house next door. There was a garage and workshop down the side of the house and inside was the glossy blue and silvery chrome of the Falcon XR.
“Is all of this yours?” asked Rosie, impressed.
“I like a little space,” he replied mysteriously.
Uncle Andrew was busy in the boot for a few minutes as the children slid into the spacious back seat. The old car purred as it was backed out into the driveway, and then they were off.
***
Finally, the big wind was coming.
The earth creature had been puzzled by the delay. The signs had been clear for a long time, yet the storm didn’t come. He knew the storm would be as big as any he had seen in his very long life, and he thrilled at the prospect. Finally, he would rise high above the land and sense what was happening. He wondered if his long guardianship was coming to an end. The great one had been quite sure that someone would come and take the burden from him. It had been a long time since he’d spoken with the great one. When he was up high, perhaps he would sense where he was.
Perhaps things had not gone to plan.
He longed for something new and to be free to roam without the burden he guarded. He couldn’t be sure that the big wind would come his way; such spinning tops of wind were fearfully unpredictable in their chosen path. He’d briefly used the power of the stone fragment to draw the storm to him. This caused a little unease, as he was meant to guard the stone and safety lay in secrecy. But he’d released such a little of the vast power contained within the stone to lift his call beyond the background noise. And now the storm was coming his way.
Not long now.
Chapter 15: Turning full circle
“We need to leave early,” said Cale’s father. “It is a good two-hour drive to the prospect.”
“I’d stay rather here,” asked Cale. “It was a very long drive.” Cale was weary, but he had other motives. “I know my way around,” he said. “I can spend the morning at the library and hang around the house in the afternoon.”
Cale’s father was doubtful, but Cale would be a distraction and he did know the town. He made a quick decision, eager to go and visit the prospect for which he had high hopes.
“Okay,” he said. “Stay out of trouble and I will be back before dark. If I am lucky, then we might be able to head home tomorrow.”
***
Cale was soon walking the trail at the back of the town library, entering the low foothills that ran the length of the town. The library was a good place to start as Cale recalled how his previous trips into the low hills had started. And now he was retracing his steps. The day was fine, the sky clear with a brightness that wasn’t found further south.
There wasn’t a breath of wind, which was unusual.
The morning had started warm and was becoming hot. The light easterly wind coming from deep inland often cooled the day at this time of the year but had not blown this morning. The sky was clear but for a high layer of thin, wispy white cloud.
To the weather-wise, these were a warning.
It had been a very quiet cyclone season, unusually quiet. This late in the season, any cyclone would be large, and this one would be a record breaker. Usually it would take many days, perhaps a week or more, for a cyclone to threaten the coastal dwellings and there would be ample warning. The possibility of a cyclone had made Cale’s father more anxious to get his work done before the storm made it impossible, but he expected plenty of warning.
It wasn’t just the destructive winds that would be a problem. A cyclone would usually bring rain in its wake, a rarity in this arid region, and the red dirt roads would become muddy and unpassable. It was unlikely that the cyclone would pass through the town, but very likely that they would get heavy rains. It would take weeks for the ground to dry and for the roads to be re-opened. But the authorities hadn’t issued any warnings yet, so there was time – or so they thought.
This cyclone was different.
The conditions for a cyclone had been there for an unusually long time before the storm had finally formed. It would be fast forming, massive, and swift to move.
Cale had remembered the clumps of green spinifex grass. The long, needle-sharp spikes would penetrate his clothes. The clumps grew singly and in large circles, their dull green contrasted with the rich red dirt and ochre rocks. Cale was following his nose, trying to retrace his steps. He recalled a dry riverbed and a gully with a pile of shells. This was so different to his previous journey into the low hills. Then, he had been alone and fearful. Now, he was alone and missing his friends, but not afraid.
He had changed. Now he was ready for the challenge.
The walk had a dreamlike quality.
There were no signs or sounds of the town and the silence was eerie. The broken red rocks lay in large heaps on the gentle curves of the hills. Cale felt like he was walking amidst a landscape unchanged by time. This wasn’t a feeling that he’d had in the south, even in the old hills where the giant had slept, as the ancient earth was covered by the young and vigorous green forest. Here the bare bones of the earth were revealed, and they felt old.
There were beings alive in this rocky landscape that were themselves ancient and to whom the tumbled rocks were a reminder of change and the onward march of time. These were the unseen creatures that lived at a different pace to Cale and his kind. These were the unseen creatures that were, for their kind, prolific in this old, long undisturbed country, a country with bones of ancient rock. These were the creatures into whose world Cale was being drawn and whose interests were about to collide. These were the creatures that could be seen only by those who had the gift within them. And Cale had the gift, and had gained it here, though he didn’t know how.
He found his way to the small valley, little more than a hollow in the low hills, where the heap of small cockle shells was a sure marker. Cale was unsure what to do next. He climbed up the side of one slope in the warm sunlight, but the rock still held the pleasant coolness of the night.
There he sat, waiting.
The silence was like a long pause in a conversation. Cale felt that he was being observed, watched. Yet he could see no one.
“What happened to the third cousin?” Cale said aloud into the silence. “What became of the stone he guarded?”
As if the rocks themselves breathed a sigh, the silence was broken, and he was gripped by a vision of the past.
One of the cousins sat before him, but his words were addressed to someone unseen.
“I have been back for some time,” the young man said, “and would speak of my journey and ask your advice.”
