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Cat Weatherill
Snowbone
Chapter 47
The three friends walked on through the afternoon, following the map. Past the bat cave, over the stepping stones, round the coconut grove.
'That Skua,' grumbled Snowbone for the umpteenth time. 'So much for You can have it back here in a few hours. This is taking forever.'
'We have to do it,' said Blackeye. 'If we don't, we'll never get to the Nova Land and we'll never find That Woman.'
'I know, I know,' grumbled Snowbone. 'But I don't have to be happy about it, do I?' She stopped and looked at the map again.
'Where are we?' said Manu.
'Here,' said Snowbone. She traced a line across the parchment. 'We have to cross this bit of open land, then pick up this track here. That will take us round the flank of the volcano and the way in is right there.'
'We're going inside the volcano?' said Blackeye. 'Erm, haven't you forgotten something?' He rapped his knuckles on his arm.
'It's fine,' said Snowbone. 'I said exactly the same thing to Skua when he showed me the route. Wood? Volcano? Fire? No! But he says the volcano is extinct. It's cold.'
'What happens when we get inside?' said Manu.
'We follow the track. There's only one, according to this bit of writing: 'Follow the Solitary Way to the Cavern at the Core. To the Crusty Cave and Torbijn's Tongue.'
'Sounds easy enough,' said Manu.
'Hm. A bit too easy,' said Snowbone. She drank from her water bottle. 'Let's go. The sooner we're there, the sooner we're back.'
They started across the scrubland. It was strewn with boulders and colonized by ferns. The ground was curiously bumpy, with endless dips and hollows, like a giant's pillow after a restless night.
'These bumps can't be natural,' said Blackeye. 'They must be man-made.'
And Snowbone was just about to say mines when the ground gave way beneath their feet.
'WHOOOOA!'
They plummeted down in a thunderous shower of stones and earth and fern and rubble.
'WHOOOOA!'
And still they fell. Down, down, down the mineshaft into the black gaping yawn of the volcano, while the light above faded fast. Down, down, down and - doof! - they fell no further.
'Manu,' said Snowbone into the darkness, 'are you all right?'
'Mmmmm,' groaned Manu. 'The soil landed first. Cushioned the fall.'
Snowbone picked herself up. 'You there, Blackeye?'
'Yep.'
Snowbone assumed he was still in one piece. She was. 'Can you see anything?'
'No. But I think we're in a tunnel, and it seems brighter that way. Give me your hand.'
Snowbone wavered. Oh, how she hated touching people! Animals, yes. Boys, no.
'Come on,' urged Blackeye, anxious to be off.
Snowbone was glad it was dark; Blackeye couldn't see her face. Every fibre in her body was crying out against touching him, but she had no choice. She inched towards his voice and held out her hand. She felt his fingers brush against her arm. They tapped down its length until they found her hand. His fingers closed round her own. Tight. Solid. Unexpectedly reassuring. Her palm began to tingle. It was quite nice really.
'Manu,' said Blackeye, 'find Snowbone's hand.'
And now Snowbone felt another set of fingers feeling for her. When they found her, there was no tingling, but they felt OK. Snowbone smiled in spite of herself.
Blackeye led them on. Lava had coursed along the tunnel once and now the adventurers stumbled through, their boots banging every bump and lump in the floor. But it was getting lighter. There was a pale, flickering amber glow and, when they reached the end of the tunnel, they found its source.
Lanterns! Ornate, golden lanterns, hundreds of them, with candles burning inside. The volcano was hollow but its sides were riddled with tunnels, just like the one they had come along. The lanterns were set into the walls between the tunnel mouths. They bathed the whole interior with an enchanting, golden, faery glow.
Snowbone wondered at it all. It was so organized. So clever. So well tended.
'Get back!' said Blackeye. He pulled her into the shadows. 'They might see us.'
'Who?'
'I don't know,' said Blackeye, 'but there's definitely someone here.'
'So much for the natives being long gone,' said Snowbone. 'And so much for "Follow the Solitary Way". There are hundreds of tunnels in here. Oh, this stupid map!'
'No, wait,' said Manu. 'There is only one way. One path. We're looking at it, see?'
He pointed. 'It comes in up there and spirals down. All the other tunnels lead off it.'
'Are we going to bother with the Tongue?' said Blackeye. 'I just want to get out. We should do it now, while there's no one around.'
'I agree,' said Snowbone. 'I think the Tongue will be further down, but we need to go up to get out.'
They started walking. As they climbed, they heard sounds coming from the tunnels. The tink - tink - tink of pickaxes; the scraping of shovels; the rumble of trucks; the muted voices of miners.
'It's so hot in here,' said Manu. His shirt was sticking to his back. 'I can't believe this volcano is inactive. Skua's wrong.'
'Skua's a liar,' said Snowbone grimly. 'I swear, when I see him again I'll -'
'Shhh!' hissed Blackeye. 'They'll hear us.'
Too late. The Finoans had heard them already. How could they not, when Snowbone's boots were scuffing the tunnel floor and Manu's breath was coming in gasps?
They heard, they watched, they waited. Then they pounced.
Granite-grey fingers grab-grab-grabbing! Poking, pulling, pushing, stabbing! The three friends were hauled into the air and carried like coffins, though with rather less dignity. They were bumped and bashed against the tunnel wall, bounced off the ceiling, squeezed and prodded until the tiddlins were chipped as chairs and Manu had bruises on his bruises.
As they were borne along, Snowbone suddenly realized: they were going down. Down the Solitary Way to the Cavern at the Core. To the Crusty Cave and the Tongue of Torbijn.
But then she saw something that made her forget the Tongue in an instant.
They were passing a cave and it was full of bones. Human bones, carelessly tossed into muddled piles.
That was why Skua hadn't tried for the Tongue himself. That was why he had sent Ashenpeakers to fetch it.
The Finoans were cannibals.
Snowbone © Cat Weatherill, 2006. Published by Puffin.
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