Moonstone Promise (9 page)

But as he lay there, the beat of the horse's heart became gradually louder. It began to pound and hammer like a drum. The music from Bob's car, the same voice, boomed into his head.

The hammer's coming down / The hammer's coming
down / Who's gonna buy my soul?

A horse screamed in the distance but it was muted, muffled by rocky hills and scrubs. There was something strange about it. Luke thought briefly about getting up and searching for it, but his body was heavy, so heavy. He lay along the horse's back, motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his breath. The screaming stopped and he drifted away again.

Sometime later a cool breeze woke him. He wasn't sure if he had really fallen asleep or if he had just drifted into a kind of trance. The horse walked and grazed, walked and grazed, and he rolled with the movement of its body as though on a boat.

Then he heard the horse again, a haunting, screaming noise so far away that it seemed to come from another time and place. It ripped through his soul like icy wind. There was another tiny, indefinable noise – a cry perhaps, or a bleat.

10

WHEN HE WOKE
he found himself lying in a field. It was morning and the sun cast its warmth over him. He could see nothing but grey-golden grass all around him. It was hot and birds tweeted in the new day. A nearby horse blew the dust from its nostrils.

Luke wandered back to the camp and marvelled at the dramatic colour of the river. It was a pale icy blue, unlike any river he'd seen. Weeping branches hung over it, resting their fingertips in the slow-moving water, and knotted tree roots curled from its mossy banks like gnarly old toes over a step.

At the campsite, the fire had died down to a pile of ash. Next to it, Tyson was hacking at a tin of baked beans with a pocket knife.

‘This is gonna
wreck
my knife,' he said.

Luke pulled the budget box of muesli bars from his pack and chucked them over to him.

‘Hmm, horse food,' Tyson said, turning the box over and reading the label. ‘Got anything else?'

Luke rummaged around in his pack for the net bag of apples. ‘Don't bruise them.'

‘More horse food,' said Tyson, but he took one out anyway. He bit it clean in two and chewed noisily.

Luke pulled his knife out of his pocket and resumed opening the baked beans.

‘You know, there are three kinds of men in the world, Luke,' said Tyson, lying back, looking up at the sky and speaking through his apple. ‘Fighters, soldiers and warriors. You know the difference?'

Luke ran a hand over his cheek. It felt slightly swollen and he guessed there was still bruising. ‘I know what a fighter is.'

‘Yeah, I can see that,' said Tyson.

‘Fighting makes me feel good sometimes,' Luke admitted. ‘Powerful.'

Tyson snorted. ‘That's a false power,' he said. ‘Didn't do you much good with your brother, did it?'

Luke bristled. ‘What would you know about Lawson?'

‘Probably more than you think, young fulla. You're not the Lone Ranger when it comes to all that stuff.' Tyson sat up, pulled a muesli bar from the box, unwrapped it and began chewing. ‘Anyway, then there's soldiers,' he said. ‘Soldiers do what they're told, even if it's wrong. They have strict rules in their work, but not in their lives, and this makes problems too.'

He screwed the wrapper up in his hand and tossed it into the coals. ‘Today you young fullas wanna carry on like warriors, but you've got no code,' he said. ‘I can tell you now, it's not the fighting that makes you feel good, Luke.' Tyson paused and wiped his mouth with a sleeve. ‘It's the violence.'

He pointed half a muesli bar at Luke. ‘Me, I love a bit of violence. But it's gotta have some rules. If you don't have rules, you just end up a criminal. You end up in prison.'

‘Lawson
broke
the rules,' said Luke coldly. ‘I was fine until he broke the rules.'

‘What rules?' asked Tyson. ‘You tell me what rules he broke.'

‘He got in my face at the wrong time,' said Luke flatly. He didn't need to give this guy any more information than that. It was none of his business.

‘That's bull,' said Tyson. ‘You were totally out of control.' He sprang to his feet in a sudden, swift movement and stood in front of Luke. ‘Here, get up,' he said, gesturing at him with an arm. ‘Get up and show me that knife.' He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the ground. Then he pulled his knife from a back pocket, flicked it open and held it in front of him.

Luke shrank back, dumbfounded.

‘Come on, powerful boy,' Tyson taunted. ‘Let's see what rules you fight by!'

Luke put up his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘I don't want to get into a fight with you.'

‘Come on,' said Tyson in a more friendly tone. ‘Violence can be good. I'll show you.'

‘It's all right, I believe you,' said Luke. There was no way he was getting up and going face-to-face with that man and that knife. Tyson was tall and probably fairly fit, although he might have eaten a few too many muesli bars in his time.

Tyson rolled his eyes. ‘Comahhhn, I'll take it easy on you. Get up!'

Intrigued, Luke stood up.

Tyson waved a hand towards himself. ‘Knife.'

Luke pulled it from his pocket and held it out to Tyson.

Tyson shook his head. ‘Open it.'

‘What for?'

‘Trust me.'

‘I don't know you from a bar of soap, mate,' said Luke, ready to walk away. He was no stranger to violence, but not with big hairy blokes like Tyson, and not with knives. ‘That's dirty fighting.'

‘Nah, this is a good knife-fighting way,' Tyson continued, unperturbed. ‘It came from the fullas down south, you'll love it.' He set his feet apart and held his knife up. ‘We can only cut and stab each other on the arms or the back, okay.'

Luke took another step back. ‘You're not serious?'

‘It's okay,' Tyson assured him. ‘It's hard to land a shot if you follow the rules.' He grinned. ‘That's if you follow the rules. And there's a twist. We'll get Tex to check out our wounds at the end and he can say the winner, and then whoever that is, he gets cut up same as the loser.' He was beaming. It was obvious he loved this stuff.

Luke just stared at him.

‘It's pretty cool, ay?' said Tyson. ‘If I get you a good one, you get to cut me back. That way no one can walk away with a grudge.'

‘What makes you think
you
would get
me
?' asked Luke, feeling himself being sucked into the challenge. ‘You might be three times the size of me, but that doesn't mean you're quick.'

Tyson chuckled and switched his knife from hand to hand. He eyeballed Luke's knife. ‘You gonna open that thing?'

At that moment, a deep, gentle voice spoke behind him. ‘Put that away, Luke.'

Luke spun around and saw Tex holding out two thick black textas. ‘This is how we do it these days. Tyson's just playing with you.'

Luke ran his eyes from Tex to Tyson, who stood there grinning, challenging. It irritated the hell out of him.

There were no evident scars on Tyson's body, and Luke wondered whether he was really good at this game or really bad at it, or maybe he had never really done it with knives before. But then he hadn't seen Tyson's back. He began circling, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. Tyson moved against him, denying him the chance to find out.

Luke lifted his shirt up over his head and threw it on the ground. Tyson's eyes ran over his torso and Luke spotted the fleeting look of shock that most people got when they saw his ribs. ‘I've taken on bigger than you before,' said Luke, not taking his eyes off Tyson.

‘And come off second best,' noted Tyson, his expression noticeably different from moments before.

Luke pulled his knife blade out of its handle. ‘You don't know that.'

Tex's hand wrapped around his wrist. ‘You don't need to do that, boy.'

‘Yeah, I do,' said Luke, without taking his eyes off Tyson. He shook off Tex's hand, and continued to step cautiously around the big man. Then without hesitating, he lashed out and swiped hard across Tyson's left shoulder.

The knife was blunt, but it left a mark all the same, and a trickle of blood dribbled down into the man's armpit.

Tyson barely moved, but his eyes blazed suddenly with anger. He crouched, as if ready to pounce and a menacing, don't-mess-with-me look came over his face.

Luke's felt a sudden surge of confidence. ‘C'mahhhn, I'll take it easy on you,' he teased, mimicking Tyson's earlier words.

‘Cocky,' noted Tyson, stepping carefully around, eyes on Luke.

There were other voices, Tex's and Bob's, but Luke didn't listen. He couldn't take his eyes off Tyson. He had started something.

Luke lunged, hoping to surprise him again. Tyson lifted an arm, nearly dislocating Luke's elbow, then came around behind him with the other hand and slashed lightly across his back.

The stroke left a scorching line of cold and, although it didn't feel deep, it was enough to make Luke's anger boil. He wanted to hurt Tyson this time, cut him real good, but something stopped him: the same something that steadied Tyson's stroke and kept it in check. Luke would have to wear the same scar, bear the same injury. By hurting Tyson, he would be hurting himself.

It added a new element to the fight, that was for sure: self-control, which Luke had never been able to master. When he fought, he was usually just lost in a haze of anger. But unless he wanted to end up in pieces, he'd have to master that quickly. He breathed a few deep breaths, and as he did so, Tyson danced to the side and swung his knife again.

Luke jumped backwards, retreating into bushes. His bare feet landed on sharp sticks and spiky leaves. He stumbled, then crashed onto his back with a heavy thud.

Tyson looked down at him. ‘You get the idea now?'

Luke snarled and snapped his knife shut. He tossed it at Tyson, who snatched it out of the air and extended a hand to help him up.

Luke pushed the hand away. ‘Whatever.'

As he picked himself up off the ground, Tyson slapped him on the back and Luke swung at him. He wasn't ready to make nice just yet, he was still pumped with adrenaline and anger.

Tyson ducked easily and held out Luke's knife. ‘Want another go, my friend?'

Luke walked past him without speaking.

Over by the ute, Tex took Luke by the shoulders and turned him about, inspecting his back.

‘Is it bad?' asked Luke, twisting to look over his shoulder.

‘Is what bad?' asked Tex. He pushed Luke away, finished with him for the moment, and walked over to Tyson.

Tex smacked the man on the back of the head with an open hand and growled something at him. Tyson mumbled back and Tex whacked him again. He grabbed Tyson's arm and ran a thumb along the small cut on his shoulder.

‘Am I s'posed to go cut a little white fulla now?' he said, clearly agitated.

Little white fulla?
Luke walked over and handed Tex the knife, staring him straight in the eye. ‘It's my cut, I earned it,' he said, turning to present his shoulder. ‘And what about him?' Luke gestured towards Tyson. ‘Doesn't he get a cut on his back?'

The faintest smile slipped across Tyson's face and Luke caught an answering flash of humour in Tex's eyes. Tyson handed his knife to the older man and presented his back.

Tex took the knife and slowly ran the flat back edge of the blade across Tyson's back, leaving not a trace of a cut. He turned to Luke. ‘Happy?'

‘What?' Luke twisted his body, trying to glance over his shoulder at the site of Tyson's hit. ‘Didn't he even cut me?'

Luke didn't know whether to be grateful or severely insulted. He straightened up and glared at Tyson. ‘You reckon I'm soft or something?'

He turned his shoulder to Tex again and held out his knife. ‘I earned it.'

‘Okay, Luke. Come and sit by the fire,' said Tex, opening Luke's knife and walking to the pile of ashes. Luke followed him and sat cross-legged where Tex pointed.

‘It's important you realise this is only done at the right time, in the right place and in the right company,' Tex said. He glared at Tyson. ‘You're open to the spirits now.'

Tex glanced at Tyson's upper arm once more and then swiftly slashed Luke's shoulder. Luke clamped his teeth together against the searing pain as blood trickled warmly down his arm. It felt strangely good.

Tex bent to pick up a handful of ashes.

‘Is that to make it like an initiation scar?' asked Luke.

Tex scoffed. ‘It's so tiny. Don't want it to heal away and you forget the lesson it taught you.' He smeared the ashes through the cut.

Tex picked up another handful of ashes and gestured for Tyson to come over. ‘You don't forget this lesson either!'