Cale and the Hidden Stones, page 18
He couldn’t leave his stone anywhere secure, and he couldn’t carry it with him all the time. He was in a constant panic, and not without reason. Fortunately, he was a good distance from the coast, but he attracted the attention of other creatures, few in number but worrying. Small, scurrying rat-like creatures were the biggest nuisance, but they were too few and too small to present much danger. He put his mind to organising his next trip back to the city. A few weeks and it was the end of term.
“Can I go to Uncle’s house during the holidays?” asked Cale, as they sat at the dinner table.
“Can I go too?” asked Sarah.
“Not me,” put in Stephen quickly. He had other plans, and they didn’t include going to the city.
“Well, I don’t know,” began Cale’s mother. She hadn’t forgotten the last holiday’s drama, though it would seem her brother was the hero and not the villain. She hadn’t really had any satisfactory answers from him or her husband. She could grill Andrew if she went as well. “Perhaps I’ll come too,” she said. “I could do with a holiday, and Andrew and I have lots to talk about.”
She looked at her husband, but he was miles away.
“Jack,” she said, and he startled.
“Sorry,” he said. “What?”
“Cale wants to stay with Andrew these holidays, and Sarah and I might go too,” she explained. “You would need to look after Stephen.”
He looked a little sheepish as he remembered how well he’d looked after Cale on the trip north.
“Sure,” he replied. “No problem. He’s old enough to keep out of trouble.”
He looked at his eldest son, wondering how well he knew any of his children and if Stephen would be as unpredictable as Cale.
Sarah whispered furiously to Cale.
“Uncle’s house isn’t very big,” Cale said. “Will he have room for all of us?”
“I know,” said Sarah with forced spontaneity. “I could come up to the city and stay with some friends instead.” Her mother looked at her but said nothing for a moment.
“Okay,” she said, conceding to her daughter’s obvious ploy. “I’ll write and make the arrangements.”
Cale also got busy writing, telling Rosie who would tell Peter. He needed them together. He wanted to try his idea and then he might get some relief from the constant guarding of the stone. After only a few weeks he now had a profound appreciation of the effort Croak had put in over a long lifetime. He remembered the third young man whose task had been constant guardianship and felt a sympathy that had eluded him before.
Cale didn’t realise it, but the search for the stones and being the guardian of the most difficult stone had shaped his own character. He had about him a determination and confidence that contrasted with the shy and uncertain boy of just a few months earlier. His mother had stopped asking him about school in a concerned way because there was nothing to concern her now. He had too many other worries to be nervous about school and he just got on with it. No one gave him any grief and, as word trickled out of his adventures in the north, having apparently rescued his father from certain death in a raging flood, he gained a certain respect.
***
Eventually the school term ended, and the three children were gathered once more in the old greenhouse.
It was a good refuge in the cooler weather. Uncle Andrew had long returned, along with his car, from the north but he was busy most days and Cale knew he was working to restore the car after its tumultuous journey. Uncle Andrew had struck up an unlikely friendship with Bruce, the large bikie. Bruce had seen the story in the paper, recognised the car, and had got in touch. He was a great source of genuine spare parts and Uncle Andrew had asked him to help work on the car together.
Cale’s mother was about the house, but happy to occupy herself, free from her usual domestic chores.
Rosie sat with the fragment of stone that she had retrieved from the willing hands of its guardian in the church tower in the city. Peter sat next to her with the fragment that he had retrieved despite the best efforts of the deceitful dweller on the high peak of the south. Cale sat on an upturned crate with the last fragment that he’d rescued from disaster and returned to its proper guardian to then be entrusted with it in turn. He placed his fragment before him on the sawdust floor of the greenhouse.
They were all a little nervous and glanced from time to time at the sky through the opaque sheeting of the greenhouse roof. They needed to use their time together before Cale returned south for another term.
“I’ve been thinking,” began Cale. Rosie smirked, but he ignored her. “The three pieces are similar but not identical,” he said. “I think they make one piece and that we should try and put them back together.”
He showed them a sketch from his notebook, of the three pieces next to each other.
“These are the end pieces,” he explained, pointing at those of Rosie and Peter. “This one is the middle. See how they make a shape like a whole loaf of bread. Here are the edges where the bread was broken in three.”
They nodded agreement.
“Now, what if each end piece is calling to middle piece,” he said, “wanting to be back together, and the middle piece calls to both end pieces, which makes it twice as loud. That is why they had to be separated, to stop them being put back together, and why my piece was too noisy to leave unattended.”
“They are so noisy,” said Rosie. “I thought it was bad, just having the one locked up out the back. With them all here together again, I’m surprised we don’t get complaints – or visits.”
They all looked around the greenhouse, aware that creatures were lurking who would eventually get curious enough to be a nuisance. Cale had found shouting at them effective, but it was difficult to explain the shouting to his family. It was the flying creatures who worried them most.
“So we found them,” said Cale, “and now we need to put them back together. Job done.”
“Somehow I don’t think glue is going to do the trick,” said Rosie as she placed her piece on the floor beside Cale’s. Peter put his on the other side.
They played with the pieces, turning the end pieces this way and that until they thought they were the right way. This was the first time they had really looked at the three fragments together and it was clear that Cale was correct. Together they made a whole.
The stones were worn by age and exposure. However, they could see enough to work out which piece aligned to which. The stones sat there, dull grey and lifeless.
“I just don’t know how to put them back together,” said Cale. “I think we are overlooking something.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Peter, and this made Rosie smile.
She had so many ideas that she didn’t need to make an announcement when she had one. However, she had learnt to value Peter’s ideas. He had a knack for making good choices when it mattered.
Leaning forward, Peter ran his hands over his stone. The stone lost its dull greyness and began to look more alive. It didn’t glow exactly; it was more like it now had a sheen or gloss. Perhaps it was like dry stone that has been soaked by water. It looked less ancient and more like a living thing.
Rosie quickly did the same to her end piece. They both stood back, waiting for Cale to make the final move.
Cale stepped forward and brought the centre piece to life with a touch of his hands. He tried to move one end piece closer to the centre, to see how it would fit. There was a spongy resistance, and the harder he pushed the stronger the resistance. Rosie tried with the other piece but had the same result. Peter had no more luck.
“I know what this feels like,” said Cale. “Like we’ve got the wrong end of the magnet and the like poles are pushing against each other. Let’s try the other way.”
Taking up Rosie’s piece, he moved it to the other end while Peter moved his to the opposite. As Cale got close to joining Rosie’s piece to his, the two pieces rushed together with a loud clack, the fragment pulled out of his hand by the sudden force.
A ripple of power radiated from the greenhouse.
The join was difficult to see, almost as if the two pieces had fused together.
“Just like the opposite poles of two magnets,” said Cale with satisfaction.
“Wouldn’t want to get your fingers caught in that,” said Peter slowly and the others nodded, suddenly cautious.
Cale took the remaining piece and gingerly pushed it towards the centre piece. The effect was even stronger and it leapt forward to join the others.
The stone was whole, and a pulse of energy left the greenhouse like a triumphant shout.
The glossy sheen began to fade. They stood around admiring the completed stone, the end result of their searching and striving. Even better, now that the three fragments were together, the constant calling ceased. It was a relief, like stepping out of a strong wind that you had been in for so long that you’d forgotten what it was like not to have the constant howling.
They admired the single stone.
“But what does it do?” asked Rosie, ever eager to move on. “What is it? What have we put back together? Why was it broken?”
***
The earth creature lay stretched out in the sunlight, lazy and at ease on the rock.
It had been a long, steady ride across the land from the warm northern coastal area that had been his home for years beyond reckoning, to this cool, blue-granite southern coast. The great wind had persisted, in less and less fury, cutting across the land until it finally crossed into the cold southern ocean and faded altogether. The black swarm had also dropped off as the winds diminished and they made their way slowly back to the northwest coastal regions, hugging the coast and taking the long way home. The cool south didn’t suit many of the unseen creatures, except in places like this where an abundance of rocky outcropping gave sustenance and shelter. The cold didn’t bother the earth creature but the constant cloud, covering the sun, was unpleasant. The sunshine of this day was very welcome.
He had been named Croak, and he liked the name, but it was already fading from his memory. He remembered the boy, whom he had named Gatekeeper, but that name was also fading. But the boy-who-flew-and-fought-for-the-stone-falling-to-earth-like-a-rock wouldn’t fade from his memory and he had a little chuckle as he remembered. He’d had plenty of time to think as he rode the wild winds over the vast country with a patchwork of land below and an open sky above, thick with stars or endlessly blue.
He had felt the ripple of power, even from a great distance, and knew that the keystone had been made whole. Great danger and opportunity beckoned.
There was change in the air. The ancient enemy had withdrawn, but the attempt to reclaim the land in the north was just a small skirmish in a long battle. There was growing strength in the realm of the ancient enemy and the land was responding. He could sense the restlessness in the creatures of the earth. The giant was awake and other ancient powers stirred.
For now, he just enjoyed the sunlight. He looked at the book that he had taken from the boy. It had words and pictures which made no sense to him, but it was nice to have.
***
Rosie had been thinking.
“I’m sure this looks like something I’ve seen,” she said. She asked for Cale’s notebook and sketched something, slowly with the pencil. “This is what I remember from the church where we found the first stone,” she said, turning the book around so they could see her sketch.
It was clumsy and the proportions were wrong, but Cale had seen the original and knew what it was. The entrance to the church had been framed by an archway, with large, slightly curved blocks. At the height of the arch was a stone bigger than the others, protruding at the front.
“That’s a keystone,” said Peter. “When you build an arch, the keystone takes the weight. Without a keystone you don’t have a proper arch. The keystone goes in last and is the most important stone.”
“How do you know that?” asked Rosie, surprised to find Peter speaking with such certainty.
“My father builds things,” he mumbled.
“Ooh,” said Cale as a thought struck him. “He called me Gatekeeper. Croak called me Gatekeeper. He knew what the stones were about. He knew what this is.”
Rosie and Peter still looked puzzled.
“We have the keystone,” he said. “We need to build an arch, a gateway, a doorway. That’s what we need to do.” He spoke with certainty, and the others nodded. The image of a stone arch, with the prominent keystone at the top, stirred buried memories. Knowledge that they had absorbed in their journey across the land came to the surface of their minds. That’s what this was all about. They were to build a gateway, a stone arch.
“Perhaps it is a portal to another place, a gateway of some sort,” said Cale, whose imagination was fired right up. “And what would be on the other side?”
Uncle Andrew chose that moment to enter the greenhouse.
“Tea,” he announced. “Time for tea.”
***
“Uncle,” said Cale as they sat drinking milky tea at the table in the warm kitchen, all except Peter who had hot chocolate instead. “Have you a book on building with stone, particularly arches?”
“I think I do,” he said. “I think I do.” And he wandered off.
He was gone for a while.
“Is your uncle’s house that big?” asked Rosie. He really was gone for a long time.
“I think he has more secrets than we’ve uncovered,” replied Cale with a smile.
Uncle Andrew returned with a large volume titled “Stone Buildings”. They all looked on as Cale flipped through the book.
“Here’s a chapter on arches, and a picture,” said Cale.
They looked at a pencil drawing of an arch window with the parts labelled, including the keystone.
He read from the text “often the keystone is larger and may project from the top, face and sides. It may also be carved or lettered”.
They all fell silent, occupied with their own thoughts; and the archway that was to be built.
“Can your dad build an arch?” Cale asked Peter, who smiled and nodded. “I can see a gateway in our future.”
***
In a far-off place, a man left the college where he was the steward, the leader of the college. One of his informants had alerted him to some mysterious happenings in the hills. He would investigate, though he planned to return the next day. He left in a hurry. He spoke briefly with the master of houses. He would have spoken to his old mentor but was in a rush and didn’t want to delay further. He had been close before and didn’t want to miss the moment.
He found the cave after a hurried journey and a frustrating search. A deep recess in the rock would have been a better description than a cave. He entered cautiously. He had spent much of his adult life seeking a phenomenon such as this but had always been disappointed. His expectations were low, though a spark of hope remained, and it was that spark which kept him searching. The great mystery of his time was the loss of the powers that had been common a generation earlier and taken for granted in his great grandfather’s time. It was on the basis of these abilities that the college had been founded, and upon which depended much of their society. All of that was now tattered and frayed as the power had diminished, faded, and then vanished; it had gone, barely noticed, the passing gradual. Like a changing climate where each year was a little drier than the one before until the seasons were barely recognisable. They had entered a time of drought and hadn’t seen it coming or even recognised that it was upon them.
These were the thoughts that occupied his mind as he entered the shallow cave. He also thought about the master of houses and the unease he felt about that man. He must do something about him. His unease had been growing and he had lost any confidence he’d once had in him. He would be alarmed if he knew that even now one of the house master’s men had followed him and was observing him from a distance.
That observer saw him enter the cave and not return. After some time, the observer climbed down to the entrance and cautiously entered.
It was empty.
He searched carefully and found no other exit. He returned to the master of houses and made his report. After two days and no sign of a return, the master of houses took a chance and emptied the steward’s room of some clothes and goods, enough to make it credible that he had actually left. He contemplated forging a note but thought better of it. It would not do to overplay his hand.
There was confusion when the master of houses ‘discovered’ the absence of the steward, but he took it upon himself to order the college in his absence. In a short time, the master of houses was appointed as the new steward, his carefully nurtured supporters on the college board throwing their weight behind him, and the downward path of the college gained momentum.
Meanwhile, the steward emerged from the shallow cave through the dimly glowing gateway that he had stumbled upon and was befuddled and confused. If he had turned about and walked back the way he had come, he would have returned to his own place and the path of history would have been different. But he was confused and continued walking into a dark and mysterious interior. He blundered about in the strange place before triggering an alarm. When the local police arrived, he was clearly disoriented and instead of arresting him they gave him a meal and released him.
The locals treated him kindly. He blended in, drifting to the job of gardener in the seaside council. He was treated as a foreigner, learning to speak English slowly and with a thick accent. His own language sounded rather Germanic but wasn’t understood by any of the locals who spoke a smattering of those languages. Investigations into his real identity and his language were rather indifferent, unnaturally so, and he quickly became a part of the community, treated with a kind, absentminded regard and allowed to learn the language at his own pace and make himself useful. He didn’t stand out as much as one might expect. Many of life’s drifters ended up on the mid-coast and further north. In time, he was simply the gardener who had no name and no past. He was liked, but people showed little interest in him or his history.
Perhaps the strangest twist to this story is that one day, as he dug in the garden, he found a stone which he picked up with interest and then unaccountably swallowed it as naturally as breathing air. His confusion of mind remained but his ability to see the unseen grew steadily, and he absorbed the knowledge that was shouted out by the earth itself. He didn’t know who he was, but he knew what he was: a student of life.
