He broke into a run, dazed, refusing to yield to madness.
Carnelian awoke in the gloom. Flickers of indigo sky showing through the canopy above signalled that it was late. He could not remember falling asleep. The ache from his wrist reached up into his chest. His skin itched. He sprang to his feet gasping in horror, swatting at the flies clothing him. He ran his hands over his body, searching for wounds that might have allowed maggots into his flesh. He was as sticky as if he had been lying in blood. Praying, he peered for a way out, but only shadow showed in any direction. It was a blessing it was so cool the flies were not misting the air, though the ground was alive with them. He wondered with a shudder if he was doomed to perish there, his body food for maggots. The banyan's red figs lay all about him but he would rather have eaten poison. Their smell was on his skin. He had slept in their ooze. Thoughts of the Tribe pierced his desolation. If not for himself, he must live for them. In the distance he could hear the percussive thunder of the falls. 'Of course,' he breathed.
Grimacing, he began striding, with each step sinking into the mouldering, noisome floor, guided by the voice of the falling water.
At last he saw daylight peering in at the edge of the grove. He broke into a jog. Soon he could feel the percussion of the falls through his feet. Coming out onto a cliff edge, he fell to his knees, sucking in air shimmering with the diamond veils the falls were throwing off. The sun was a glorious mass of light made vague by the mist. The Blackwater was all the rest of the world slipping by. With a jolt, he realized the sun was in the east. It was morning. Fighting panic, he rose and ran round the cliff, reaching the prow the island thrust out over the chasm. From there, he gazed over the drop to where the knoll stood crowned with tiny trees amidst the clearing red as a wound. The anchor baobabs seemed flimsy. The Ladder fell as a mere skein into the depths. He searched for signs of life, but saw none. Dread spurred him on. He followed the path he and Morunasa had used the previous day. As he ran past the margins of the banyan he refused to look into its glooms. He pushed on through soaking clouds then alongside the river until, at last, hidden among the roots, he found a boat. Trusting it had been left there ready for a crossing, he pushed it into the rush and vaulted aboard. The violence of the river swept him along and it took him a while to catch the steering oar. Then he leaned against it, feeling the power of the river come shuddering up through the wood so that he lessened the thrust from fear the oar might snap. Gritting his teeth, he gazed out past the prow as the boat veered slowly across the river.
Where the boat struck the bank was not much further than perhaps ten lengths from the maelstrom. Carnelian flung himself out onto the bank and clung to a rock as he saw the boat swing out and begin spinning in the torrent. Shivering with cold, he watched it fold into the white water and disappear.
He hauled himself up onto the riverpath, then stumbled along it, past the impaled man and through the baobabs towards the knoll. As he ran he looked for people. He found a way through the wooden wall and sprinted up the slope. In his bones he knew the place would be deserted. He reached the camp panting. The Manila, the Plainsmen had all disappeared. There was only one place they could have gone.
Carnelian slumped morose near a hearth which was still warm. It had not taken long to determine that all the aquar had been taken too. On foot, he could not hope to reach the Koppie in time. If his bleak self-disgust had allowed it, he would have wept.
A faraway voice crying out his name made him jump to his feet. It called again. 'Carnie.' It was unmistakably Poppy's voice. He strode over the ditch and, seeing her stumbling up towards him, leapt shouting down the slope to meet her. When they met, he snatched her up into his arms.
The Mother be praised,' he cried.
Poppy buried her head against his neck. 'Fern said you were dead, but I just knew you weren't.'
He crouched to put her down. Her grubby face was all smeared with tears.
'Fern?' he asked.
She half-turned in his arms.
Carnelian's fierce delight released tears. 'He's here?'
'He hid me when the Master came last night.'
He stared at her. 'He came himself?'
She nodded.
'Where's Fern?'
Tying up our aquar. Come on.'
Carnelian put her down, then allowed her to tug him down the slope. Fern appeared around a trunk. His relief at seeing Carnelian made him halt staring. Carnelian picked Poppy up again so that they would get to him more quickly. Fern rushed to meet them.
'I thought you dead,' he said.
'I know,' said Carnelian. 'How many aquar do we have?' Fern grimaced. 'I only managed to hide one.' Carnelian clasped his shoulder. 'You did better than I deserve.'
'When the Master appeared unexpectedly in the camp -'
'Morunasa and the other Oracles?' They came carrying him on a litter.' 'He took everyone with him,' said Poppy. Fern stared distraught. 'He's gone to the Koppie, hasn't he?'
Carnelian's bleak look was answer enough.
'Can we stop him?' Fern's voice, his face, his body even, were all a plea.
Carnelian felt empty, exhausted, weighed down. He hoped Poppy did not guess the holocaust that was threatening. 'We must.'
For a moment, his fierceness gave Fern hope and vigour, but then he drooped. 'We've only one aquar.'
'Will she carry three?'
Fern bit his lip. 'Not the whole way.'
'Well, then, we two will have to take turns running alongside.'
Fern thought about it then nodded grimly. 'We'll need food and water.'
'Have they left any?'
'I'm sure I can find something.'
'Good,' said Carnelian. 'Keep Poppy with you.'
'Where are you going?' Fern asked.
To release the sartlar.'
Carnelian summoned Kor in the usual way. When she appeared over the edge of the chasm, he was there waiting for her. He crouched to look her in the face. She regarded him as if he had her in a cage. He had grown accustomed to her fearful ugliness.
'Little mother,' he said. 'I'm going away.'
'Everyone is going away, Master.'
'Can you count up to ten?'
Kor showed him her gnarled fingers.
'If I don't return or send a message within ten days' — he flared his hands and her eyes flickered as if she were being blinded — 'then you must cut down the ladder trees.'
Her face crumpled in a frown. She pointed carefully at first one and then the other of the baobabs anchoring the Ladder.
Those two, but also that one.' He pointed at the salt-caves tree.
She revealed her peg teeth in what might have been a grin or a grimace. The Master wishes to leave the sartlar starving in the caves below?'
Recoiling from the foulness of her breath, he waved his hand in front of him. 'No. No. You must take all your people and flee.'
'Flee where, Master?'
Carnelian visualized the Three Lands laid out before him. The Leper Valleys.'
Her face collapsed into sad impassivity. 'You know where those lie?' 'Far away, Master.'
He had to agree with her. 'I'm sorry, I know of no other place.'
Her chin dug deeper into her chest so that her hair fell to hide her face. 'As the Master commands, so shall it be done.'
Carnelian rose and looked down at the poor creature. She seemed more like an outcrop of the red stone upon which she stood than a living thing. He could think of nothing more to say. Feeling sad, he walked away.
Midday found Carnelian, Fern and Poppy moving through a dry shadowless land thralled by immense baobabs. Fern was riding the aquar with Poppy on his lap, swaddled against the merciless sun. Carnelian jogged along beside them, trying to match the saurian's easy stride; his robe, his uba, plastered to his skin.
When it was his turn to ride and Fern's to run, Carnelian had to stop the aquar often to wait for him. For all his height, Fern did not have a Master's stride.
The baobabs ended abruptly, as
if they were defending a border, and they moved into a region which might have been a becalmed sea. It was Poppy who pointed out the thread of smoke wavering in the east. They stopped to squint at it.
‘It's definitely a koppie beacon,' said Fern.
As they rode further they saw more beacons rising in the west and several more even as the sun was dropping to earth. Carnelian had asked what it was that could alarm all these tribes together, but Fern could only shake his head.
'Perhaps all have joined the Ochre in revolt,' said Carnelian.
'If so, to what purpose would they send out such signals of alarm? The Master couldn't possibly be attacking them all at once.'
Filled with foreboding, they pushed on. They made better progress as the sun lost its fire and would have continued on except Fern pointed out that it was getting late. Over Poppy's head, he mouthed the word 'ravener' and, nodding, Carnelian agreed they should camp for the night.
Hastily they gathered enough fernwood to make a fire and were thankful they managed to light it before the sun had vanished from the world. Ravener cries seemed to carry further in the blackness. The stars seemed painfully bright. They ate djada and had several licks of Fern's saltstone. When Poppy asked Carnelian about what he had seen on the Isle of Flies he would only shake his head. They settled down and slept sharing the warmth of their bodies.
When Carnelian awoke he realized he had only dreamed escaping the Isle of Flies. In the darkness he could feel them spitting through the air. Squinting up confused, he saw the stars obscured as if by drifts of smoke. He moaned, desolate. Something clutched him and, crying out, he threw it off.
'Carnie. What's the matter?' Fern shouted over the hissing in the air.
'I told you not to come here,' said Carnelian. Poppy was crying with fear.
Carnelian curled up, not understanding, wanting to scream. The flies,' he said, shakily. The devouring flies.'
Strong hands grabbed hold of him. He was drawn towards a body and could feel a mouth speaking in his ear.
'Sporewind, Carnie. It's just the sporewind. Now lie down and I'll cover you and Poppy. Then I'll go and see to the aquar.'
Carnelian felt around for Poppy and drew her close, and Fern threw a blanket over them.
'It's not flies then, Carnie?' Poppy asked through her tears.
He stroked her hair. The sporewind striking the blanket was like someone throwing sand. 'Not flies,' he muttered. 'Not flies.'
Next morning, the dawn twilight never brightened to day. Wrapped up in blankets, they harnessed the aquar by touch.
'Will she be able to go on?' Carnelian cried.
'We'll go slowly and all ride her,' said Fern.
Being the heaviest, Carnelian sat in the saddle-chair. Fern rigged some ropes between the front and back crossbeams and lay across them on one side, after they had placed Poppy along the other. To make sure she did not slip out, but also to help counter Fern's weight, Carnelian leaned over to hold Poppy in place. When he asked the aquar to rise, she did so. The distribution of weight made her rock a little but with some adjustments, they managed to make it possible for her to walk.
They set off. The air swirled black all around them. It hissed and rattled constantly as it struck them. Mostly it drove like sleet from the east, in which the sun showed the dark ridge of the Backbone. Carnelian guided them towards it and, for the rest of the day, in its lee, they made what headway they could through the sporestorm.
Three more days they struggled on while the sporewind blew relentlessly. It was at night they suffered most. Their backs and limbs ached. Poppy's tears had run dry. Carnelian was plagued by nightmares of the Isle of Flies.
On the morning of the fourth day, the storm began to abate. The sun rose hazy but distinct Some of the sky's blue shone through and gave them hope. It became possible again for one of them to run while the other rode. It eased their ache of worry to pick up the pace.
As the day wore on, it became possible again to see into the far distance. Four separate columns of smoke were eddying in the breeze.
'I know where we are,' Fern said grimly. That smoke is rising from the Tallgreen, the Darkcloud, the Smallochre and the Woading.'
'Not from the Koppie?' asked Poppy.
Fern's eyes when they locked to Carnelian's, were like wounds. 'No, not from the Koppie.'
They crossed the Backbone a little to the south so as to avoid having to pass anywhere near the Darkcloud. Fern's route brought them within sight of the koppie of the Bluedancing. Even from a distance, they could all see the damage Osidian's fire had wrought there. They veered away from that desolate sight, northwards, towards the glistening run of lagoons beyond which lay their home.
Riding while Carnelian ran, Fern guided them through the gap between two lagoons. Bellowers roosted on islands. Earthers were strewn like boulders across the land. When they stopped to make a changeover, Carnelian searched for heaveners but could find none.
Once he was settled with Poppy into the saddle-chair, they pushed on.
Carnelian's heart jumped up into his throat and Poppy let out a squeal of delight when they saw the beloved shape of the Koppie rising up out of the plain. Both he and Fern allowed her chatter to pour over them as they scrutinized their home, nervously.
Carnelian pulled the aquar up. 'Shouldn't they have seen us by now?'
Grimacing, hands on knees as he leaned over panting, Fern nodded, never once taking his eyes off the silhouette.
Carnelian made the aquar kneel and dismounted. 'We might as well both walk.'
They marched on. Sensing their anxiety, Poppy asked: 'What's the matter?'
Carnelian glanced up at her. 'Nothing.'
When they came close enough to see the individual mother trees, Fern steered them towards the Horngate. As they drew nearer they began to smell the rot of blood. The ruins of vast creatures still partially walled with flesh spoke of a recent hunt. It seemed to Carnelian an evil omen.
'Couldn't we use another gate?'
Fern shook his head slowly, unable to free his gaze from the sight.
The fernland before the Newditch was scorched and black. They stopped when they reached the earthbridge and looked over it to the Killing Field. The carcasses were verminous with ravens and sky-saurians. Carnelian looked across at the Eastgarden and saw the drying racks like an abandoned military camp.
'Come on,' said Fern. Carnelian hoisted Poppy up with one arm and followed him.
Even though they pushed their ubas hard against their
mouths and noses they could not shut out the overwhelming fetor of the Killing Field. Flies shimmered and rippled in mats over walls of brown mucused flesh that sagged rotting from the struts of bones. The ground was a churn of blood and mud and lumps of fat. They wound their way through towards the fallen Bloodwood Tree lying like a corpse amongst the carnage, its roots hung with entrails.
They found the bridge and won their way over to the Blooding, where they rubbed the filth off their shoes and opened their ubas to suck in the perfume of the easterly breeze. Ahead, the Grove looked as it always did and yet, it lacked something intangible. They could feel something was wrong as they marched up the Blooding.
Over the bridge, the gate had been torn down. They stopped to gaze through under the arching cedars, desperate to see a friendly Ochre face.
'Maybe everyone's gathered below the Ancestor House,' whispered Poppy.
'Maybe,' said Carnelian, exchanging a look of despair with Fern.
Carnelian put Poppy down. 'Will you stay here, Poppy?'
The girl shook her head slowly. Anger welled up in Carnelian but he controlled it. He offered Poppy his hand and, when she took it, he led her across the bridge.
Beneath the canopy of the mother trees rather than the usual sensuous coolness, the air felt cold. Even before Carnelian's eyes had adapted enough for him to see in the gloom, he recognized the smell and snatched Poppy up, crushing her against his chest, forcing her head back over his shoulder. As his sight re
turned, the branches of the mother trees were revealed hung with horrifying fruit.
Keening, Fern careered, stumbling, up the rootstair, leaving Carnelian panting, gaping, staring round, nauseous as he saw how many people were hanging from the trees. 'Carnie, you're hurting me,' Poppy whined in a tearful panic, but Carnelian could not release his hold on her and could only stare transfixed with horror. Osidian had done this. Carnelian could sense his presence as if he smelled him on the fetid air.
Carnelian became aware of Poppy shrieking, frantic in his arms. He slid her down his body and crushed her face to his chest, then fled back over the bridge into the fern-garden, into the bright clean day. When he had run far enough for the sun to burn the blackness from his eyes, he crouched to let Poppy go. She flew at him, screaming, beating him with her little fists and he gave himself over to her fury, which was nothing compared to the utter dread and desolation that now filled him.
He hardly noticed the blizzard of her blows cease, but he did see the terrified look she gave him and tried to find his voice, tried to comfort her.
'Is it the Master?' she asked, tears and mucus glistening on her cheeks and upper lip.
Carnelian could find no words, nor even thought.
'Where's Fern?' she screamed at him.
Carnelian's mind coalesced around that name. He glanced back at the gape of the gate across the bridge. He coughed his voice back into being. 'Stay, stay.'
Poppy licked her lips and stared at him, unblinking.
'Stay here. Please, stay here,' he begged.
She was shaking her head. 'No. I'm not leaving you.'
Carnelian kneaded his forehead, seeing her twisting in his tears. He rose and glared down at her and his anguish poured out into his voice.
'You'll not move from here until I return.'
His wrath flattened her to the ground among the fresh green ferns. He stooped to lift her.
'Please stay here, Poppy, for me?'
She gave him a tiny nod and he leaned close to kiss her. Soon he was loping back to the earthbridge. He glanced back once to make sure she had not moved and then, hesitating at the gate, he re-entered the darkness beneath the mother trees.
The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 Page 63