How to Live Forever (11 page)

Festival sat down with her back against the cave wall and put her arms round Peter. He felt himself floating off into unconsciousness again. It was almost a nice feeling, drifting away in the girl's arms.

The two of them were soaked through and the air in the dark tunnel was cold. The cold numbed the pain in his hand and the feeling of faintness passed. The only warmth Peter could feel was where Festival was holding him. He wanted to fall asleep, but the cold was too intense for him to relax.

They got up and began to walk along the rock path into the cave. As they came round a corner, Archimedes was sitting in the middle of the path
waiting for them. He meowed a greeting and trotted ahead of them into the gloom. He paused for a second at each branch of the tunnel, leading them deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain. Eventually, the rough rock face changed into evensized blocks, more books, smaller than those of the encyclopaedia but still bare of any doors or windows. The books formed a narrow arch that led into a large cave.

‘That cat is weird,' said Festival. ‘I mean, how did he get up here? He's not even wet.'

‘I don't know,' said Peter. ‘He's always been like that. He just seems to turn up whenever I need him.'

The floor of the cave was covered with a small lake that was fed by narrow waterfalls pouring from gaps high above them. And in the middle of the lake there was an island, every inch of which was covered in old leather books, not in tidy rows or piles, but in a thrown-down jumble that threatened to collapse into the water around them. But in these books, at last, were the first signs of human habitation. There were doors and windows that looked as if someone had taken a village and piled it up on itself.

And in the highest house there was a light at a window.

The roof of the cave was covered in clouds that had formed from the mist made by the falling water.
The whole scene looked like a model of the library, a world within a world within a world.

In front of them a small white boat was tied to a rock. Archimedes jumped into the boat and the children climbed in after him. Peter untied the rope and Festival rowed them across to the island. They tied the boat to the small jetty and climbed ten steps up to a narrow path that climbed steeply between the old sandstone buildings. The whole place had a quiet, deserted air about it.

Archimedes ran ahead of them until he reached a red door at the top of the path. There was a line of light shining under the bottom of the door. Peter turned the handle and the three of them went inside.

At the back of the room, sitting in a tall carved chair, was a small pale figure. He had the look of immortality about him, a child way too old to be a child, yet nevertheless a child.

It was the Ancient Child.

‘You must be frozen,' he said. ‘Come, follow me. I have food and fire and dry clothes.'

He swung his legs over the front of the chair and waved them around until they touched a pile of books built up like a set of steps. He climbed down and came over to them.

‘Welcome to my home,' he said. ‘I have been expecting you.'

He took the children to two small bedrooms where they found dry clothes, and although they were both exhausted, the excitement of having found the Ancient Child gave them fresh energy. There would be plenty of time for sleep later. They went back downstairs where there was food and drink and a warm fire.

‘Do you live here on your own?' said Peter as they ate.

‘My family and I came here many, many years ago,' said the Ancient Child, ignoring the question.

‘Why?'

‘We were banished here because of the book,' said the Ancient Child. ‘We will talk more later. First there are things that must be done.'

‘But –' Peter began, but the Ancient Child held up his hand.

‘Enough,' he said. ‘You have brought the book and though time is important, it will not be really important until tomorrow.'

‘Tomorrow?' said Peter.

‘Tomorrow,' said the Ancient Child. ‘You have lost count of what day tomorrow is?'

‘Tomorrow?' said Peter. ‘Wait a moment. It's … it's my birthday.'

‘Mine too,' said Festival.

‘Exactly.'

‘It's my grandfather's birthday too,' said Peter.

‘Mine too,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Tomorrow is the important day, so today you can rest.'

‘But there are so many questions,' Peter began.

‘They must wait,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Tomorrow will be a long day. You must rest and sleep. The day after tomorrow there will be more than enough time for all the questions you could ever think of.'

It was clear that the Ancient Child was not going to change his mind. After eating, the two children were too tired to even remember leaving the table. They slept more deeply than they had ever slept before.

The next morning, the Ancient Child woke them early. Being inside the house, inside the world, inside the world, inside the world, which was a vast dark cave, it was impossible to tell what time of day it was. There was no sun, no moon, nor any sky. The cave was lit with a soft blue glow that seemed to come from nowhere but filled every corner.

‘Come,' said the Ancient Child as they sat once more at the table. ‘Today is the most important day in history.'

‘Why?' said Peter.

‘I cannot tell you anything,' said the Ancient Child.

‘What do you mean, you can't tell us?' said Festival. ‘You say it's the most important day ever, but you won't tell us why. That's ridiculous.'

‘Do you mean,' said Peter, ‘that you can't tell us, or you won't tell us?'

‘I mean neither,' said the Ancient Child. ‘I mean that I do not need to tell you. The two secrets, answers, call them what you will, are already known to you.'

‘No they're not,' said Festival. ‘Well, if they are, why can't you just remind us?'

‘They are not both known to
you
. The first is known only to Peter.'

‘I don't understand,' said Peter.

‘You have already discovered them,' the Ancient Child explained, ‘but you were too distracted to see them. And yet, you did see them. They are in your knowledge. You just have to go back and look.'

‘Go back? Go back where?'

‘Not down in the valley?' said Festival.

‘No, no,' said the Ancient Child, ‘back in your memory.'

‘When?' said Peter.

‘Go back to the rising river,' the Ancient Child continued. ‘Go back to the book. Festival opens it and begins to read. Go back to that moment.'

‘But –'

‘Close your eyes,' said the Ancient Child. ‘You are standing on the bank of grass.'

‘Yes, the river is coming towards us.'

‘Forget the river.'

‘She reads the book.'

‘Yes?' said the Ancient Child expectantly.

‘The leaves –'

‘Forget the leaves.'

‘The river changes direction.'

‘I said, forget the river,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Stop looking outwards. Look inside yourself. She is reading the book. Close your eyes, not just here but back inside your memory. What is happening?'

‘My heart is beating faster,' said Peter.

‘Yes?'

‘It feels like I've been running.'

‘No. Look again.'

‘My heart is beating faster.'

‘Faster than what?'

‘Faster than it was.'

‘When?'

‘I don't understand.'

Peter felt confused. He looked at Festival for help, but she shrugged her shoulders and looked at the Ancient Child as if he was crazy.

‘What are you talking about?' said Festival.

‘Come on, Peter,' said the Ancient Child,
‘concentrate, look closely. Your heart is beating faster than when?'

‘Faster than it was before.'

‘Before what?'

‘Before she started reading the book.'

‘How does it feel?'

‘Like it always does,' said Peter. ‘No, no, like it always did.'

‘When?'

‘Like it always did before.'

‘Before what?'

‘Before I read the book.'

‘YES!' the Ancient Child exclaimed.

It took a few moments for Peter to realise what it all meant. The meaning was so simple that the first time he realised it, he dismissed it.

‘It can't be
that
easy,' he said.

‘It is,' said the Ancient Child. ‘The most important things are often the simplest. It's their very simplicity that makes people overlook them.'

‘All you have to do is read the book again and that's it?' said Peter. ‘You're not immortal anymore?'

‘Yes.'

‘But surely someone must have done it before?'

‘No,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Do you not remember how the book tried to get away from you, and how you couldn't open the covers?'

‘Of course.'

‘The book protects itself,' the Ancient Child explained, ‘but it isn't perfect. Since you heard Festival read the book, you are no longer immortal, so now you can open it and read it again. Festival is immortal so she cannot.'

‘So if she listens while I read it,' said Peter, ‘then everything will be reversed.'

‘Exactly. She could then open the book and you wouldn't be able to.'

‘And there is no limit to how many times you can do this?'

‘No,' said the Ancient Child. ‘The odd times make you immortal. The even times reverse it. But also yes, and that is where the second secret lies. This secret is harder to see. It would appear to be almost insignificant, and yet it is far more significant than the first secret.'

‘What is it?' said Festival.

‘I cannot tell you,' said the Ancient Child. ‘But once again you have it in your memories. Both of you hold this secret. Go back again.'

‘Okay,' said Festival. ‘I am sitting on the grass. I open the book and begin to read. The roar of the waterfall –'

‘Forget the waterfall,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Forget the trees, forget the river. You are inside a
bubble, just you and the book. Look very, very closely.'

‘I am reading,' Festival continued. ‘I finish the first page.'

‘Yes?'

‘I turn it.'

‘Yes, yes?'

‘I begin to read again.'

‘No, no, before that. Find the details.'

‘There are tiny flakes of paper on my hands.'

‘From?'

‘The book. It looks very, very old. The pages are crumbling.'

‘Exactly!'

‘It happened when I read it too,' said Peter.

‘Are you saying that the book is falling to pieces?' said Festival.

‘Yes and no,' said the Ancient Child. ‘The book itself is also affected by the reading. While its covers are closed, it stays exactly as it was. It does not disintegrate, nor age at all, not even if it is left unread for a hundred years. But every time someone reads it, it dies a little more.'

‘So if a hundred people read it, it would end up as a pile of dust?'

‘Or one person read it a hundred times,' said the Ancient Child.

‘That's why I've been brought here, isn't it,' said Peter, ‘to read the book a hundred times?'

‘Yes, and that is why you have a Caretaker, so you can take it in turns reading,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Except you have to read it one thousand times, not one hundred.'

‘And,' he added, ‘you have to read it on your birthday, the anniversary of your birth, because birth and rebirth is what the book is all about and you are stronger on your birthday than any other day, strong enough to control the book, because as you near the last reading the book will fight you, as you would fight if your life was about to end.'

‘Are we the first ones to reach the cave?' said Festival.

‘Almost,' said the Ancient Child. ‘You are the second and third.'

‘Oh yes,' said Peter. ‘You were the first.'

‘No, no,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Excluding me. I have been here too long to count. My forefathers were born here. Nor did they ever live anywhere else.'

‘Your whole family is here?' said Festival, the word reminding her of her own family and the fact that she would probably never see them again.

‘No, they are all gone, all died,' said the Ancient Child.

‘But the book?' said Peter.

‘When I was eleven, I discovered the book at the back of a cupboard where my mother had hidden it,' said the Ancient Child. ‘I took it into my room and read it. When my mother found out what I'd done, she was furious. She told me about the book's terrible power and said I would be cursed forever. She never forgave herself for keeping the book in the house where I might discover it, and a few months later she left us and went into your world to find the remotest place on Earth to hide the book. And it stayed hidden for six hundred years.'

‘And of course, as you know,' he continued, ‘having gone from our world into yours, she could never return.'

‘But where did the book come from in the first place?' said Festival.

‘My mother said my father came home with it one day, not long before I was born,' said the Ancient Child. ‘He never told her where he got it, whether he found it, or bought it, or maybe even wrote it himself. Not long after that he disappeared, and my mother never spoke of him.'

‘Like my mother,' said Peter.

‘I don't know if he is dead or alive,' said the Ancient Child. ‘No, when I said you were the second and third to come here, I meant someone came here before you.'

‘Who?' said Peter.

‘Me,' said a voice.

A man came into the room. The light from the lamp was weak, but even if there had been no light, Peter would have known that the man was his father. The photo had come to life. There was even a faint band of pale skin where his father had worn the watch and the sun hadn't been able to colour him. Peter looked into his father's eyes but before he could read them he began to feel shy and looked away.

The boy and the man stood facing each other, unable to speak. Every thought that came into their heads seemed inappropriate or trivial. There was so much to say, yet they were both speechless. This was the first time father and son had ever seen each other. They were linked as close as it was possible for two humans to be, yet they were total strangers. They both wanted to rush forward, to throw their arms round each other like father and son would, but strangers don't do that.

After what seemed like an hour but was really less than a minute, the man walked forward and wrapped his son in his arms.

Peter felt tears well up inside him. They ran silently down his face into his father's shirt, while above him his father's tears fell into his hair. Still neither of them could think of anything to say, but as
they stood there in silence, they both realised that it didn't matter. They now had the rest of their lives to talk to each other. Peter pushed the thought that his father might have another wife and child to the back of his mind. He had found his father, and he knew from now on there would always be answers to whatever problems life might bring them. A big weight that he had carried all his life, without really noticing it, had simply dissolved away. He was now part of a complete family. All that remained was to bring the parts together in the same place.

‘You look exactly how I thought you would,' said Peter's father.

‘Did you know I was coming?' said Peter, looking up into his father's face.

‘When the river turned back, we knew someone was coming,' said his father. ‘But I didn't know it was you. I didn't even know if you were a boy or a girl. No one has been here since I came.'

‘My mother thinks you ran away,' said Peter.

‘Every day since I came here I've thought about that,' said Peter's father. ‘I've worn twenty pairs of shoes to dust searching these corridors for a way back.'

Peter was too choked up to know what to say.

‘I've stood at the top of the waterfall a thousand times and thought of throwing myself over to try and get back to the beach and maybe swim back to the
mainland,' his father continued. ‘But I knew there was no way back from there either.'

Festival came over and stood beside them and Peter's father reached out and put his arm round her too.

‘You must be Peter's Caretaker,' he said.

‘Yes,' said Festival. ‘Where is yours?'

‘Well, she wasn't as devoted as you,' said Peter's father. ‘She was too scared to come to the island. She tried to persuade me we wouldn't find anything useful here, but I knew she was wrong. Earshader brought me here at night while she was asleep.'

‘I was scared too,' said Festival.

‘Come,' said the Ancient Child to Peter. ‘There will be plenty of time to talk later. It is time to start the thousand readings. Two hundred years ago I prepared a special place. There is but one tiny entrance. There is no echo there and no other living thing to hear you read. You and Festival must go there alone and not leave until you have finished the last reading. The book will then be dust and the curse will be ended.'

‘I don't think so,' said Peter. ‘If the odd numbers make you immortal and the even ones bring you back, then when I have finished the last reading, I will be normal but Festival will be immortal because she is the one reading behind me.'

‘No,' said the Ancient Child. ‘After the thousandth reading, the book will die and so will the curse. Everyone who has ever read the book will begin to age again from where they stopped.'

‘You mean, even if they cannot hear me read?' said Peter.

‘Yes,' said the Ancient Child. ‘Everyone except me. I alone must live forever.'

‘Why?'

‘When my mother discovered I had read the book and said I would be cursed forever,' said the Ancient Child, ‘I thought it was because she didn't know that reading the book a second time would reverse the curse. But I was wrong. I have heard the book read many times over the centuries, but I have stayed the same. I can only assume that my father did not just find the book but created it and my family has been cursed because of it.'

‘So there is nothing that can help you?'said Festival.

‘Not that I know of,' said the Ancient Child. ‘But you and Peter can save everyone else. You are the same age as I was when I read the book. You must read the thousand readings before midnight on the day of your birthday or it will be too late and the curse will never be destroyed.'

‘Someone else might come along,' said Peter.

‘No, you saw the valley, how the path crumbled
behind you. None of that can be reversed. The earth cools and grows old. It has to be now or it will be never,' said the Ancient Child.