Helix and the Arrival Read online

  ‘Enough chatter!’ thunders Speel, and everyone stops what they were saying mid-sentence. ‘Do not forget that the river snakes closer to the mountain every day, and that those in the lowlands covet this glorious land of ours.’

  I look around, trying to work out which part of this dusty, craggy mountain is glorious. Have I missed something?

  ‘Now go. Go back to your caves. And do not for a moment think that this mountain of ours can be taken for granted.’

  When the Gathering is over, I meet Ug in front of his family’s cave.

  Ug and I are opposites in lots of ways:

  Ug is big and I am small (you could fit four of me inside one of Ug).

  Ug’s dad, Ugthorn, is a great hunter; my dad, Jerg, is great at talking about hunting.

  Ug is very hairy; I’m very unhairy (Ug has more hair on his arms than I have on my entire body).

  Ug is going to become a caveman soon; I’m going to be a caveboy for the rest of my life.

  Ug and I have been friends since we were cavekids. He started walking before I did, so would pick me up under one arm and take me places. And I was talking long before him (in fact, I skipped grunting and went straight to words), so while he carried me around, I’d teach him how to talk. It was a good arrangement: I got to travel places and Ug learnt to talk, pronouncing each word slowly and in full, which he still does to this day.

  Ug’s resting a heavy club on his shoulder, holding onto it with one hand. It looks small when Ug holds it.

  ‘Hi, Ug. Nice club,’ I say.

  ‘It is my dad’s. He said we can practise with it. Here,’ he says, handing it to me.

  I take it from him, wondering if there’s a special way to hold it.

  ‘What do you think?’ he says.

  ‘It’s not as heavy as I thought,’ I say, cradling it in my arms. But then I try to raise it above my head, and that’s when I realise there’s a whole lot of weight in this lump of wood. The higher I raise it, the more I feel like I need to drop it or I might topple over from its weight.

  Ug sees I’m struggling. ‘Are you all right?’ he says.

  ‘Here … Take it,’ I say, straining under the weight.

  Ug plucks it from my weak grip with one hand and rests it back on his shoulder again.

  I let my arms flop down. Both my shoulders feel like they’ve become detached from my body. What’s the point of even bothering to learn how to use this thing? I’ll never be strong enough to wield a heavy club.

  ‘How about we practise with the heavy club another day?’ I say.

  ‘I thought you wanted to prepare for your Arrival.’

  ‘Another day will be fine,’ I say, my shoulders taking it in turns to throb with pain.

  ‘Well,’ says Ug, ‘I guess it is up to you.’

  ‘Let’s visit the Ledge,’ I say.

  I can tell by the look in Ug’s eyes that he’s keen.

  The Ledge is a rock shelf high above Rockfall’s caveline. To get there, you have to climb up a sheer rock face. Sometimes the climb is dangerous – rocks get dislodged and tumble down from above. Ug, who is padded with muscle, agrees to go first and act as my human shield.

  The final part of the climb is the most difficult – the Ledge juts out from the mountain like a caveman’s jaw, meaning that you need to haul yourself up on an angle, with some of your weight suspended in midair. It’s best not to look down at this point.

  But even though it’s difficult, I don’t find it too much of a struggle. Climbing is one of the few things I’m good at: because I’m so skinny, there isn’t much of me to drag around. I’m also good at running or, more accurately, running away from things that scare me.

  Ug pulls himself up onto the Ledge and I follow. It’s a big effort for him, heaving such a mass of muscles, bones and body hair up and over the lip of the Ledge, but he makes it with the slightest of grunts.

  The view from the Ledge makes the climb worth it. As well as being able to look down on Rockfall from a great height, we can see out over the woods, across the river and down to the lowlands where the river people live. We can even see as far as Land’s End, which is the end of the world.

  ‘What do you think is there?’ I ask Ug.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Land’s End.’

  ‘It is the end,’ says Ug. ‘Beyond Land’s End there is nothing.’

  ‘How can there be nothing?’ I say. ‘There must be something.’

  ‘No. There is nothing. It is the end of the world,’ says Ug.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ I ask.

  ‘It is knowledge,’ says Ug. ‘We learnt it from Speel.’

  ‘It must be true then,’ I say.

  Ug lets out a huff. ‘Why do you always want to argue with everything Speel says?’

  ‘I don’t argue with everything, just with most things. I mean, how does he know there’s nothing there? Has he been to Land’s End? I don’t think he’s even been to Newstone or the Dark Side!’

  ‘It is written, Helix. Do you not get it?’

  ‘Oh, the sacred tablets. I almost forgot. The same sacred tablets that he won’t let anyone read.’

  ‘Yeah, well, cavemen cannot read, anyway!’ says Ug. ‘And even if they could, why would they want to?’

  He’s right. If someone took a vote on the top three interests of cavemen, they would be:

  hunting

  collecting sacred rocks

  hating the river people.

  ‘But that’s just it! If reading the sacred tablets was allowed, I’m sure folk would teach themselves how to read.’

  ‘The sacred tablets are not for everyone’s eyes, Helix. They are for the Storykeeper alone.’

  ‘Well, that’s wrong,’ I say.

  ‘If you are unhappy, you should go to speak with Korg the Magnificent,’ says Ug.

  Korg, as our clan’s leader, has the final say in everything. Most times these days, though, he just shuffles about slowly, looking tired and old, staring at the ground deep in thought.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ says Ug, his body stiffening.

  ‘Hear what? The sound of a vulture flapping? The sound of the wind bristling against your hairy back? The sound of a monobrowed baby crying?’

  ‘Shut up! There it is again.’ Ug takes his flint knife from his belt and rises into a crouching position. ‘Sh … It is coming from above.’

  Great. There’s a creature stalking us and we’re trapped on the Ledge. I wonder if it’s a rock gibbon. The bigger males can be aggressive and have been known to pull a caveman’s arm out of its socket. I’m glad Ug is here.

  I crouch behind Ug, peeking out from behind his large body.

  ‘Whatever it was, I think it has gone,’ he says, and sits back cautiously.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I think so.’

  We’re relaxing again, taking in the view, when our peace is shattered by something jumping down from above, landing between us. Before I can see what it is, Ug is on top of the creature, his flint knife drawn.

  ‘Get. Off. Me. You. Bonehead!’ the creature says to Ug, in a chokey voice.

  ‘Saleeka!’ I scream, half in surprise and half in anger.

  Ug rolls off her. ‘I almost finished you,’ he says, shaking the knife in his hand.

  ‘Relax, big boy,’ she says. ‘No need to get your loincloth in a knot.’ She leans back against the rock face and blows the knotted hair from her eyes.

  ‘What were you doing, sneaking up on us like that?’ I say.

  ‘I wasn’t sneaking up. I saw you climbing and thought I’d follow –’

  ‘By jumping down on top of us? Real smart!’ I say.

  ‘Anyway, what are you both doing here?’ She turns to Ug. ‘I thought you were going to teach him how to swing a heavy club.’

  Ug shrugs his shoulders and looks at me as if I’m a lost cause.

  ‘Why aren’t you practising, Helix?’ says Saleeka. ‘You need to practise! Your Arrival will take place at the sum
mer solstice – that’s only the mooncycle after next!’

  ‘Thanks for explaining the obvious, but what’s it got to do with you?’ I say.

  ‘What’s it got to do to me? Maybe I don’t want to be friends with some loser who fails his Arrival. It wouldn’t be good for my image.’

  ‘Do you mean your I’m-a-scary-cavegirl-who-looks-like-a-cave-hyena image?’

  She turns to Ug. ‘Sounds like Mr Soon-to-be-thirteen is a bit tense at the moment.’

  ‘Shut up!’ I say. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be turning thirteen and be expected to transform – as if by magic – into a caveman.’

  ‘You know what, Helix? You’re right. Having recently turned thirteen, I didn’t have to deal with any of that. Instead, I had to prepare to be married. Yes, married! At any moment, without warning, I could be offered to some bent-toothed, bushy-browed grunting cave idiot as his wife. How would you like that?’ she says, pinching my arm.

  ‘Ow!’ I say. ‘That hurts.’

  ‘Does it? Well, maybe you need to toughen up, caveboy.’ She pinches me again.

  ‘Ouch! Stop it!’

  ‘Okay, that is enough,’ says Ug.

  Ug’s deep voice turns us both quiet. We sit still like cavekids who have just been told off by their dad.

  Ug decides to offer his thoughts. ‘Sure, Helix is a skinny runt who cannot throw a spear and is afraid of the woods, but that does not mean you should rub it in, Saleeka.’

  ‘Thanks for your support, Ug,’ I say.

  ‘That is all right,’ he says.

  ‘So, getting back to what I was saying before: you need our help,’ says Saleeka.

  ‘How are you going to help me?’ I ask.

  She swishes some more hair from in front her eyes, revealing a crinkled forehead. ‘Is it so hard for you to imagine a world where I could be of some use? I bet I can throw a spear further and more accurately than you. And I can swing a heavy club above my head, no problems. As for the woods – I go there by myself all the time.’

  I don’t reply, because everything she says is true.

  ‘Let us go,’ says Ug. ‘We are meant to be at Speel’s by noon for our Learning.’

  ‘That’s another thing,’ says Saleeka. ‘Why is it that just because I’m female, I don’t get taught the same Learnings as you?’

  ‘You’re not missing out on much,’ I say.

  ‘A caveboy’s Learnings are important,’ says Ug. ‘They teach us the sacred knowledge – who we are and where we come from.’

  ‘Exactly! That’s the stuff I want to know,’ says Saleeka.

  ‘I’m more than happy to pass on the “sacred knowledge”,’ I say. ‘You’ll soon realise that it’s about as sacred as my brother’s nostril hair.’

  ‘I am going,’ says Ug. ‘I have had enough of you both.’

  I follow him down the mountain, down, down, down, for a Learning with Speel.

  Speel’s cave is the largest in Rockfall, even larger than Korg the Magnificent’s. The reason the Storykeeper’s cave is so big is so that it can store piles and piles of stone tablets.

  Most of the tablets record boring stuff like:

  Marriages: Jerg (fourteen) married Barb (thirteen).

  Births: Jerg begat Sherwin and later he begat Helix. (Note: there is no mention of his wife Barb, even though she did most of the begetting.)

  Arrivals: Sherwin, son of Jerg, passed his Arrival after tripping and falling spear-first onto a poison-fanged rock monitor.

  Deaths: Great-great-uncle Berg, aged forty-two, died after a long life, when he choked on a piece of charcoaled meat.

  The most interesting tablets, though, are the ones referred to as ‘sacred’. Some of the sacred tablets were written at the beginning of time by the first ever Storykeeper, Zeel. They record important subjects such as:

  Fleg and Fler, the first ever cave couple from which all other mountain folk came

  the river people, those evil, nasty, wicked folk who live in the lowlands below the mountain

  natural disasters like the Great Drought, when the mountain streams went dry and we ran out of water (apparently the fault of the river people); and the Great Flood, when everything except the top of the mountain was flooded (also known as ‘Our glorious revenge over the river people for causing the Great Drought’)

  the laws and other rules and regulations telling mountain folk how they are supposed to live. For example, it’s forbidden to marry your first cousin (unless there’s a shortage of folk your age – then it’s perfectly fine).

  Ug and I arrive at Speel’s cave. A thick skin hangs from top to bottom, covering the entrance. Strung in a nook carved into the outside cave wall is a length of bandiquoll gut. This is called a ‘bandi-twang’. When a bandi-twang is plucked, it makes a sound that lets the cave owner know that someone has come to see them. Our cave has no need for a bandi-twang, as it’s so small from front to back that we can see and hear when someone is coming to visit. Plus, if Dad or Sherwin ever caught a bandiquoll, we would eat every bit of it including the bandi-twang parts.

  I pluck the bandi-twang and the sound reverberates into Speel’s cave.

  ‘Enter,’ comes a voice from deep within.

  We walk inside. The walls are lined with torches fuelled by animal fat, a luxury that regular cave folk would never consider.

  Behind a raging fire in the middle of the cave, on a thick pile of skins from large animals that he certainly didn’t hunt and kill himself, sits Speel. The flames flicker high in front of his face, making it seem like he is separated from us by a wall of fire. This must be the hottest cave in Rockfall. Droplets of sweat are already starting to form on my forehead.

  Near the back of the cave, next to a second fire, sit Speel’s stonehacks, Crag and Tor. The stonehacks’ job is to chisel away, night and day, copying Speel’s writings from animal skins, where they are first written, onto stone tablets. Crag and Tor lift their heads and stop chiselling as Ug and I enter. Their arms and shoulders are covered with rivers of veins trying to escape their thick muscles. A life of chiselling has made them like this. I think they resent caveboys like us, who are free to roam the mountain, as opposed to being stuck in a cave all day working for Speel. They go back to work, their facial expressions barely changing.

  ‘Sit down,’ says Speel, squinting his singular eye at us.

  We take a seat at the fire, opposite him. He stands up. It looks like he’s enjoyed yet another big breakfast of hard-shell – the tender grey meat is still stuck in his beard and the shell of the poor, slow-moving creature sits discarded and empty, beside the fire.

  ‘Today we will continue with the Learnings. Your Arrival is drawing near. You must fill your minds with the sacred knowledge of our glorious people if you are to become cavemen in our clan.’

  Ug is nodding. He loves any mention of the word ‘glorious’.

  ‘I trust you have both completed your homework,’ says Speel, picking at the grey meat in his beard.

  Homework? What homework? I didn’t know we had homework …

  Ug pulls a small rock out from under his loincloth and presents it to Speel.

  Thanks for reminding me about the homework, Ug!

  Speel studies the rock, rotating it between his spider-leg fingers. He holds it up to the light of the fire and nods. ‘Very good, Ug. You have chosen well. It is indeed a sacred rock.’

  And then I remember. We were meant to find a sacred rock, a rock from the beginning of time when the mountain was first formed. These rocks are perfectly smooth and round and are hard to get because most of them are in the river, and no one from the mountain would ever dare set foot in there. Speel says that the river is swallowing up the mountain’s sacred rocks, one by one, drawing these precious objects into its dark, bottomless depths. All the more reason not to go looking for sacred rocks, I say!

  ‘Where did you find this fine rock, Ug?’ asks Speel.

  ‘Deep in the low woods. Close to the river,’ says Ug.

&nb
sp; Speel nods at Ug in approval. ‘Helix?’ He turns to me with a closed-lip smirk. ‘Let’s see if your sacred rock can rival your friend’s.’

  ‘My s-s-sacred r-r-rock?’ I stutter.

  ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten your homework,’ says Speel. He sits back down, settling deeply into his pile of skins and practising his beady-eyed smirk once more.

  ‘No, of course not. Well, you see, the thing is that I did find a sacred rock, but it was lodged tight in a crevice and I wasn’t able to remove it. It’s very special – glorious, in fact – and of a wonderful colour. I hope to be able to dislodge it soon so that I can impress you with its gloriousness.’ There. That’ll convince him.

  Speel stares at me for a moment with his small brown eye. ‘As you are aware, the task I gave you was not to find a sacred rock stuck in a crevice and report back to me of its existence, but to bring me an example of such a relic. Where, might I ask, is this most glorious of sacred rocks?’

  ‘W-w-where?’

  ‘Yes. What is its exact location?’

  Think, Helix, think! I can’t say it’s anywhere in the woods – Speel knows I’m too scared to venture down the mountain on my own. Perhaps …

  ‘The location of this rock is near Newstone,’ I say, knowing that Speel hates Newstone and never goes there.

  ‘And what were you doing near Newstone, may I ask?’

  ‘I was hunting with my father … for geckoes. Yes, we were hunting for geckoes on the rock ledges.’

  Speel considers my story. He breaks his silence by saying, ‘You will return to Newstone and collect your sacred rock. While you are there, you will pick up a fresh supply of writing skins for me.’

  Great. My imaginary sacred rock has turned me into Speel’s personal slave.

  ‘You can go tomorrow,’ he says, with that same close-lipped smirk and mean look from his lonely eye.

  The rest of Speel’s Learning is full of stories I’ve heard plenty of times before. At one point, he has a stonehack bring him a sacred tablet from the back of his cave. He reads from it something about river people rising from the mud. When he’s finished, he places the tablet flat beside him. I try to read it from my side of the fire. It’s not very big and doesn’t contain many word signs – certainly not enough to fill the story that Speel has just told.