Amethyst (20 page)

‘I do, Ralick. I do.’

‘I do trust you,’ said Copper. ‘Of course I do, Amy. I’ve always liked you, I promise. OK. Let’s do it.’

Copper laced herself up in Amy’s red boots and dress. She hid her tell-tale coppery hair under Amy’s red hat. Amy put on Copper’s jumper and trousers. Immediately she felt hot and uncomfy. She fastened the toolkit around her waist and pulled her jumper over it. She put on Copper’s coat and hat. Now she felt hot enough to explode.

‘Brrr. I’m freezing. Thanks, Amy,’ said Copper. ‘I don’t know how I’ll get out of here, but I will. I’ll go straight to Squitcher. He’ll help.’ She glanced back at the gold fabric. ‘What about that?’

‘I’ll hide it down my boot,’ said Amy. She squished it down inside Copper’s fur-lined boot. ‘We don’t want Granite to see it. If they catch me they’ll soon see it’s me. They’ll think if you did make gold that you took it with you, won’t they?’

Copper grinned. ‘Good thinking.’ She picked up Ralick and made for the door. Footsteps were approaching. ‘They’re here!’

Copper and Amy looked around for a way out. There was none.

The last strand of gold on the desk.

‘They’ll see it!’

Amy lunged for it and grabbed it at exactly the same
instant as Copper. They found themselves holding it taut between them.

Without a word, but silently visualising the same picture, they knelt either side of the door. They hid back against the wall and held the gold thread stretched out across the doorway like a tripwire.

They saw Shane’s light first, seeping out ahead of him. They felt the heavy, grainy presence of Granite nearby.

‘She’s escaped!’ Granite yanked the door open. Shane was right behind him.

Neither saw the gold thread in their path.

Granite charged in. He tripped. He fell headfirst into the room, slapping down hard onto the marble floor. Shane toppled over him. They were a tangle of arms and legs. Copper had the chance she needed. She grinned triumphantly at Amy. She picked up Ralick, jumped over the prostrate bodies and was gone.

Amy hesitated. It had been that kind, happy look from Copper that had delayed her. They were friends …

Amy got to her feet. She tried to get past Granite. Granite grabbed her foot and pulled her over. She crashed down hard on the floor.

‘Not so fast, Miss Beech,’ Granite hissed. He got up, holding onto her boot all the while. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

Amy kicked him off. She shoved at him with her foot. She struggled, but Shane was on his feet too and grabbed her. He stared into her face.

‘It’s
her
!’ cried Shane. ‘The Rock one, so it is!’ He backed away. ‘The girls have tricked us.’

Granite was standing up, too. He pulled Amy’s beret off and revealed her thick black hair.

‘Traitor!’ he croaked. ‘Traitor. Double-dealing traitor. You’ll pay for this. We must get after that Stick—’ He broke off. He sniffed.
‘Gold!’
He peered round the room.

Taking Amy with him, he began to inch, toad-like, round the room. ‘Where is it? I smell it, I smell it. She made gold, didn’t she?’ He swept his fingers across the desk and held them up to the light, examining them for specks of gold dust. ‘I knew she could and she did. She’s taken it back to her Wood friends, has she?’

He pushed Amy into the corner, and sat down on the chair.

‘I don’t know,’ said Amy.

‘Didn’t you want the gold? Didn’t you want all the fine things I had to offer? Stupid Amethyst, have you no sense?’

‘I, I …’

‘What a hopeless girl you are. What will become of you now, hmmm? Will Agate and Jarosite want you back? Will I cast you out into the snow? Well, you will not remain my guest in Malachite Mountain for one minute longer, that is for certain. Call yourself a Rock? Huh! I do not want to look on your miserable traitor’s face, ever again.’

The two men were staring at her with such loathing. Tears welled up in her eyes.

‘In fact,’ croaked Granite, ‘since I can assure you that neither Agate, Jarosite or I ever want to see you again, you can stay here. Locked in this place for the rest of your miserable life.’

‘No. You couldn’t!’

‘I certainly could. And I will. What do you say, Shane?’

‘It’s a fine idea,’ said Shane Annigan, grinning. ‘Sure it is. I like the idea – she’s dangerous. Let her die here. Alone.’

‘You can’t!’ Amy ran at the door, but Shane got there first and pushed her back. She tumbled against the desk, bruising her hip.

‘You can’t!’

Granite laughed. ‘Goodbye.’

The great stone door closed behind them.

‘Sure and it was never a pleasure knowing
you!’
cried Shane.

‘No keyhole on that side, Amethyst!’ Granite shouted back. ‘No way out at all – unless you jump!’

Amy ran back to the door but there was no door handle, no lock, nothing. She put her ear against it, there wasn’t a sound. She was trapped.

Amy leaned against the cold stone wall. She stared at the room’s dark walls. Her eyes followed the blood-red veins and purple swirls. Was she going to stare at them for the rest of her life? Was this the end? She felt her heartbeat quicken. She was panicking. That was no good. She had to keep calm. At least she had the rat with her. He’d keep her company.

She looked around the room again. There was a window. That was her only chance.

She shrugged off the coat and thick jumper. She dragged the big chair over and climbed on it. She could reach the window now. It was a circle of blue glass, about the size of a bathroom sink, set into the thick wall.

Amy leant on the sill and looked out. The window was halfway up the mountainside and all she could see was sky.

Her chest went tight. Her heart stopped beating. She was doomed.

‘That doesn’t look very hopeful, does it, Rat?’ She whispered. ‘I suppose I might wait for Copper to come back … But she might never come back. I can’t just sit here, can I?’

‘You just sit there and wait until you’re spoken to.’
Aunt Agnes’s much repeated words whined in her head.

‘Not this time, Aunt Agnes. Leave me alone.’

The rat twiddled his whiskers. He wiped his little paws across his face.

‘I have to get out,’ Amy said to it. ‘Maybe Copper will need me … No time to waste … so … I think I’d rather fall all the way down the mountain and die than sit in here and die.’

There was no way of opening the window. She picked up the rock from the desk and threw it at the glass with all her might.

The window shattered. Glass tinkled onto the marble floor. More glass went flying out of the window. Amy heard it splintering and chiming as it hit the rock below.

‘Who’s going to clean that up? You’re such a messy girl, you always have been …’

‘Please leave me alone, Aunt Agnes.’

Quickly Amy climbed back onto the chair. She wrapped her hand in the coat and punched out the remaining shards of glass. When it was clear she climbed up onto the deep sill and stuck her head out into the fresh, sharp air.

Down, up, sideways, it was all the same. Sheer ice.
Above her, below her, the cloudy green ice of Malachite Mountain stretched out like glass.

Amy slipped back inside. She took a big breath.

‘Rat, it’s the only way to go. We have to do it. Are you ready?’

‘You’re scared of heights, you know you are. Don’t try this, you hopeless girl …’

‘Be quiet!’

The rat dived under her shirt, claws scratching against her skin and curled itself into a ball.

‘Sorry, Rat, I didn’t mean you be quiet. But anyway, I’ll take that as a yes.’

Amy hoisted herself onto the windowsill. She stuck her head and arms out through the window. Below her, the mountain slipped away, down, down, down. It seemed to go on for miles and miles. Above her it reached into the sky. The dome of the Crystal Crown glinted on the peak.

‘Up or down?’ she asked the rat.

The white rat poked its nose out between the shirt buttons, sniffing the air. ‘Pss, pss.’

‘I agree, I rather think it’s going to be down,’ said Amy.

The rat’s beady bright eyes scanned up and down across the mountainside. His whiskers flickered. His pink nose twitched and wrinkled as if he was thinking. Finally, with a positive sort of ‘squee-ak’ the rat suddenly leaped off the windowsill and launched himself into the air.

‘Rat!’ Oh, my goodness. He’ll die, thought Amy. He’ll fall to his death. ‘Rat!’

But the white rat didn’t fall. He had leapt sideways, about an arm’s-length from the window. He pressed himself flat, holding onto the ice by his claws. He lay so flat against the ice, he looked like a white handkerchief knotted at four corners.

‘You silly thing!’ cried Amy. She leaned out to try and reach him. ‘You nit! Now what? I can’t reach you!’

The rat was not worried. His nose was twitching. His eyes darted everywhere. He grinned at her.

Then he released his grip on the ice. Just a tiny bit, until only the end of a claw held him. He began to slide slowly down the mountain. His nails squealed against the ice like chalk on a blackboard, as he went.

‘Oh, you clever rat!’ cried Amy. ‘I see it. I understand!’

She opened her tool apron. She chose a small pick and a chisel. Holding one in each hand, she turned herself round and slipped herself feet first out of the window. ‘Oh, golly, Rat! This is so awful!’

‘Squeak, squeak,’ called the rat. It really did sound encouraging.

Amy’s legs were now dangling out of the window. She was holding on to the windowsill by the ends of her fingertips. She didn’t want to let go. She kept thinking about that great drop below. She imagined herself falling, slipping and slithering all the way to the bottom …

‘Squeak. Pss. Eeek!’

‘Yes,’ said Amy. ‘I’m coming.’ She moved one hand out and dug the pick into the ice. When she had all her weight on that, she moved her other hand out. She dug in
the chisel until it would take her weight. She hung there.

‘Oh, my goodness!’

It was so terrible. She pictured herself, like a fly, a dot on the great white vastness of the mountain. ‘Oh, my, my, my …’

She couldn’t move.

She took a big breath of the sharp air but it didn’t help. It was too much for her. She was stuck.

‘Oh,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Oh, I’m stuck. Rat, I’m stuck here, hanging like a spider or something … Rat!’

It’s all gone wrong, everything, again. My plan to save Copper hasn’t worked. She’s probably right now being locked in a dungeon. Here I am, stuck on the mountain, about to fall to my death …

‘
Yes, silly girl, stupid girl, you spoil everything, don’t you?
’ Aunt Agnes was a mosquito whine in her head.

‘Leave me alone, Aunt Agnes, please. Please.’

Amy’s arms were on fire. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly round the metal tools she didn’t think she’d ever be able to unbend them. They were beginning to burn and cramp.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the ice. ‘I can’t, I can’t, I can’t … Aunt Agnes is right. She knows me and I’m useless … I’m doomed.’

But the rat came back.

He inched himself across the ice, hanging on by the tips of his tiny claws. He crawled across the smooth surface until he was close to Amy’s face.

‘I can’t,’ whispered Amy. ‘Help me.’

‘Pss, pss, squeak.’ The rat moved up to the steel pick in her right hand. He pushed his nose beneath it. Immediately, the tiny pick lifted a fraction out of the ice and grazed over the ice. Amy slipped. She screamed. But as soon as she slipped and screamed, she thrust the pick back into the ice … only now it was twenty centimetres lower down and all her weight was on her left arm.

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, she could feel it beating against the mountainside. ‘All right, all right.’ She breathed slowly. ‘I understand. Yes.’

Amy dug the pick in again very hard. Now, very carefully she released the chisel, which was easier to get out than the pick because it wasn’t curved. It would be harder to get in, too. She let it slip a little way, then the moment she felt the speed increasing too quickly and her right hand take too much of her weight, she thrust the chisel back into the ice. Both arms were now taking her weight.

‘Eeek eek!’ said the white rat chirpily. He set off, skating and slip-sliding downwards and sidewards. He looked as if he’d done it all his life.

Amy watched him.

Her stomach tightened when she saw below her the miles and miles of mountainside. Slippery green rock, sheer ice and snow and ledges … ledges! Yes, there were bumps and cracks and wasn’t that a window? It would be a window, of course it would. Her spirits soared.

‘See, Aunt Agnes, you’re wrong. I can do this!’

Amy let go with the pick again and moved slowly
down the mountain. It was hard. Her shoulders screamed out in agony. She imagined her bones popping out of their sockets under the strain, her tendons and sinews snapping like wires in an electric cable and bursting apart. Every-thing hurt. But as she grew more confident, she found invisible protrusions and tiny jutting bits where, by kicking her legs into the ice, she could rest for a second.

Looking down, she saw the rat had almost reached a window. Slowly, Amy inched her way sideways and down towards him. ‘I’m coming. I’m coming!’