Death-Bringer

by Patrick Tilley

  Cadillac throught it through and brightened visibly. ‘That’s brilliant …’

  ‘Yes. It is.’ Go to the top of the class, Brickman …

  Cadillac had already been formally installed by the clan elders as wordsmith to the Clan M’Call but the ceremony had been overshadowed by the shock of Mr Snow’s death just as he, as the Old One’s apprentice, had been overshadowed since childhood by his master’s commanding presence. Cadillac sensed the clan felt they had been landed with the monkey instead of the organ-grinder. He had to change that perception of him – and this was probably the only chance he would get.

  He looked around at the half circle of expectant faces, lit by the leaping flames of the huge bonfire. A sweet smell of pine resin hung on the night air. Behind him, flurries of orange sparks, like miniature constellations, were swept skywards on the rising air.

  Steve, seated near the middle of the third row, listened with bated breath as the young Mute launched into his address. If Caddy didn’t pull it off, Steve knew he might as well pack up and go home.

  Cadillac was surprised to find that his earlier nervousness had vanished. He paced slowly along the front row, his gaze roving back and forth with the vaguely disapproving air of a visiting general asked to review a battalion that is not quite up to snuff. His only regret was that Clearwater was not here to witness his debut as a star performer.

  He returned to the centre and began: ‘As I look about me and find that your eyes, like mine, are filled with the same bitter tears, I know that your hearts are gripped by the same sorrow, that our minds are engraved with the image of one man whose name is on all our lips –’

  ‘Oyy-yehhh …’ moaned the clan.

  ‘Mr Snow! The Storm-Bringer! Summoner and word-smith of the M’Calls, paramount clan of the She-Kargo! Whose mighty powers strengthened the knife-arms of our warriors, whose wise counsel guided our elders during the dark days when the greatness which is our destiny seemed to be slipping from our grasp!’

  ‘Oyy-yehhh …’

  ‘His death, his passing from this world, leaves a great emptiness in the landscape of our minds. For he towered above us like a giant tree on the the barren plains of existence. A deep-rooted tree which gave us shelter and from which we drew sustenance. From his lips flowed the fire-songs celebrating the prowess of our warriors old and new, the history of the Plainfolk stretching back to the War of a Thousand Suns, and stories of the Old Time.’

  ‘Oyy-yehhh …’

  ‘This was his gift to me! His wondrous tales, his wisdom, his knowledge of this world and the worlds beyond now reside in me! His will now stiffens my resolve! His spirit, freed from the confines of his body, surrounds me! Enters me with each breath! Possesses me!’

  So saying, Cadillac turned his face upwards, closed his eyes, flung his arms out sideways and fell to his knees. His head sagged forward onto his chest, his arms dropped to his sides, then after a brief moment in which his audience watched spellbound, he opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet. And although they were quite dissimilar in life, he somehow managed to assume all the physical characteristics of Mr Snow – chin thrust out aggressively, hands reversed onto hips, legs slightly bowed by age as he paced up and down, the quick, questioning eye movements.

  And the voice. The pitch, the intonation … both were perfect.

  ‘What a miserable bunch! Sweet Sky Mother! Is this what I’ve bequeathed my successor?! Does your backbone disappear the moment I step beyond this world? A fine reward for all my labours! Has every word I uttered been a waste of breath? If so dry your tears! It is I who should weep for you, who sit there trembling like lost children in a dark forest waiting for the wolves to devour them!’

  Steve clapped his hands together in admiration. Cadillac might be a prize bonzo but when he tried he could really put it together.

  ‘Are there to be no more fire-songs because I am not there to put your brave deeds into words? Is the courage for which the M’Calls are renowned to wither on the vine because my power has passed over with me? Were you only shadows to whom I gave substance when danger threatened? Are you only as brave as the droppings stuck to the tail of a charging buffalo? Do you sink into a cowardly stupor when the need for heroes has never been greater?!’

  ‘NO!!’ chorussed the clan.

  ‘No?’ Cadillac tugged at an imaginary beard as he strode back and forth. ‘How boldly and easily you reply! Yes – you are brave enough when you are hidden in the shadows, your voices laid one upon the other so that no one know who speaks the truth! Cadillac now wears my mantle! My knowledge of all things has passed to him. You have appointed him to my place yet you refuse to follow him against the iron-snake!’

  ‘He is too young!’ cried a voice from the darkness. ‘He has no standing!’

  Mr Snow’s voice boomed from Cadillac’s throat. ‘No standing?! He inherits my standing! For all I was, he now is! Speak, those of you who remember! Did you not heed me when I was young?!’

  ‘Yes, but he does not have the power!’ protested another unidentified voice.

  ‘Clearwater has that power! That is why he seeks to free her from the belly of the snake! Does he not have the gift of seership? Is he not versed in the ways of the sand-burrowers and the dead-faces? Why, he even speaks their fearful tongue! He is as brave as I ever was, and knows more than I ever will!

  ‘Cadillac, Clearwater and the cloud-warrior are among The Chosen! They grace the M’Calls with their presence because we – among all the She-Kargo – have found favour in the eyes of Talisman! Let each man, woman and child pledge themselves anew here and now! Let them come forward one by one and say whether they will stand with Cadillac against the sand-burrowers and be the first to strike a mighty blow on behalf of the Plainfolk!

  ‘Do this not in memory of me but in praise of him! He whom I loved and nurtured as if he had been my own blood-child! Clan-brothers! Clan-sisters! Place your lives in his hands as you placed them in mine and I swear that each one of you shall find me at your side in the hour of need! The power given to me by Talisman shall reach out to you from beyond the veil!’

  Cadillac flung both arms into the air in the style of Mr Snow, spun round on his heel and became himself again. ‘How say you? Are you ready to stand with me?!’ The entire clan leapt to their feet in a tumultuous explosion of joy.

  ‘Heyy-yahh! Heyy-YAHH! HEYY-YAHHH!!’

  Some time later, after Cadillac had managed to extricate himself from the clutches of his admiring followers, he came over to Steve’s hut and found his arch-rival sitting outside, staring into a small fire.

  Through the half-raised door-flap, he glimpsed the top third of Night-Fever. The rest of her naked body was tucked between the sleeping furs. Given the general mood of celebration, she was no doubt hoping that tonight was going to be her lucky night.

  Steve raised his eyes. Cadillac’s face was still glowing with pleasure.

  The Mute sat down opposite him, adopting the same cross-legged pose. ‘How did I do?’

  ‘Pretty good …’

  ‘Is that all you can say?!’

  ‘For crissakes, Caddy! What can I tell you that you haven’t been told a million times already?’

  ‘Yes, I know all that. It’s just that I respect your opinion. I mean, you’re not easily impressed.’

  Steve sighed and threw up his hands. ‘What can I say? It was fantastic, amazing. The way you transformed yourself …’

  ‘Yes, even I thought I did that rather well –’

  ‘And the voice – every nuance, every intonation …’ Steve kissed the tip of his fingers. ‘Muy perfecto!’

  ‘And totally unrehearsed –’

  ‘Ahh, yes, but based on years of careful observation. And when one adds in what you had to say … spellbinding!’

  ‘Ohh, do you really think so?’

  I’ve got to stop, thought Steve, otherwise I will throw up. ‘Do I think so?! I know so! I was watching the people around me. They were hanging on every word!’
>
  Cadillac attempted a modest smile but only succeeded in oozing several more pints of self-satisfaction. ‘Yes, to judge from what everyone’s been saying I think I did manage to get the message across. Thank you.’ He saw Steve’s surprise. ‘It was your idea.’

  Steve shrugged. ‘Ideas aren’t hard to come by. Translating them into action – that’s the difficult bit. And you know what?’

  ‘I’m listening …’

  ‘Watching you tonight gave me another idea. You could be Malone.’

  Cadillac smiled. ‘That’s right. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to work that one out.’

  Steve inclined his head in mock respect. ‘Nice to know you’re ahead of me.’

  For once …

  ‘Yes,’ said Cadillac. ‘And I’ve got another suggestion. Now that you’ve seen my impersonation of the Old One …’

  Steve groaned inwardly. Christo, how much soft soap does this guy need?!

  ‘… why don’t you take me to see the real thing?’

  The question, coming out of left field, caught Steve totally unprepared. ‘Uhh, the what?’

  ‘The real thing,’ said Cadillac patiently. ‘The Old One. Don’t try and fuck me around, Brickman. He’s alive and well, isn’t he?’

  ‘How d’you work that out?’

  ‘By thinking things through. The shock stopped me from doing so at first. There he was, dead, right in front of my own eyes, but part of my mind couldn’t accept it. I had seen his dying place in the stones!’

  ‘Yeah. According to you, he was supposed to die last year!’

  ‘Have you ever tried reading a stone?’ cried Cadillac scornfully. ‘If you had the gift you would know that the time at which an event will take place is the hardest thing to decipher.’ He paused, then said: ‘How did he fake it?’

  ‘You’d better ask him.’

  ‘And the bodies were switched after we placed him on the High Ground. Who was left for the death-birds to feed on?’

  ‘Some old, white-haired guy who died at the trading post. He was wrapped up in the bundle of cloth that was slung over my horse.’

  ‘Yes, I thought it was something like that. Very clever. Do you think Malone fell for it?’

  ‘Sure. He’s never seen Mr Snow.’

  ‘No.’ Cadillac studied Steve’s face then smiled. ‘You can’t bear me being right, can you? You just hate it when I’m out in front.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Steve. ‘It’s a lot better that working with a sponge-head who keeps falling nose first into his boiled rice.’

  Cadillac ignored the reference to his sake-sodden nights in Ne-Issan. ‘I haven’t just seen the Old One’s dying place, I’ve been there – twice! The pictures I drew from the stone were so clear! It was only when I ran over everything again in my mind that the truth gradually dawned on me. Yes. It was a cruel trick you played –’

  ‘It wasn’t my –’

  Cadillac cut back in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not accusing you. I understand why it was necessary to deceive me. I had to prove myself. Stand on my own feet. Isn’t that what the Old One wanted?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Steve.

  ‘Then take me to him.’

  ‘I can’t. You’ll have to ask Awesome-Wells and Boston-Bruin. They’re the only ones who know where he is.’

  Cadillac scrambled to his feet. ‘Good! Let’s find them. We have important things to discuss.’

  ‘Whoa! Slow down! They tell him what’s been happening. If he wants to see you, he’ll let you know.’

  ‘But –’

  Steve rose. ‘Listen, Caddy. If and when we do see him, don’t expect too much. They say he hasn’t got long to live.’

  ‘Long enough to take part in one last great battle.’

  ‘The one you saw in the stones?’

  Cadillac answered with a reluctant nod.

  ‘Do you know who wins?’

  The Mute shook his head, his eyes filled with tears.

  How ironic, thought Steve. The one man who could save the day is lying at death’s door and his successor has persuaded the clan to follow him in a suicidal attack on the wagon-train to free someone who might die if she was rescued.

  When Cadillac had found him staring into the fire, Steve had been trying to piece his life back together. A little while before, Roz had come through on their private line to say that Clearwater was not well enough to be taken off the train.

  The shattered femur in her right thigh had been carefully reassembled and pinned together but would take six months to mend, held in a hi-tech metal splint. If she did not continue to get the level of medical care available in the Federation, she could be permanently crippled or – if complications set in – might lose the leg and perhaps her life.

  All his past efforts, everything he’d been working towards, had gone straight down the fucking tube …

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mr Snow had been hidden in a cave entered by a cleft in a steep jagged rock face buried in the densest part of the surrounding forest. The staggered shape of the opening meant that no light from the fire which illuminated and warmed the inside could be seen by any stray passer-by.

  Access was difficult enough even if you knew where it was. The entrance was masked by brushwood piled on the narrow ledge outside, and to reach it you had clamber up a precipitous ninety foot slope.

  Even the pines, packed together like giant porcupine quills, were finding it difficult to stay upright. Many of them had lost their footing and keeled over. Others, their stunted branches signalling the losing fight for air space, had died quietly in the arms of their stronger neighbours. But not all of the fallen trees were down and out: here and there, were pines whose horizontal trunks had made an incredible right-angled turn towards the sky.

  As soon as the location had been pointed out to him, Cadillac steamed up the slope and disappeared into the cave a good minute of so ahead of the others.

  ‘How d’you manage to get him up here,’ asked Steve as he reached the ledge and offered a hand to Awesome-Wells.

  ‘With great difficulty,’ gasped the elder.

  ‘He found this cave when he was a boy,’ wheezed Boston-Bruin. ‘And when he was a young man, he used to bring women here.’

  Awesome saw Steve’s puzzled reaction. ‘For illicit affairs.’

  Steve laughed. ‘Mr Snow …?’

  ‘Never stopped,’ said Boston, catching his breath.

  ‘Mack-Truck, Rolling-Stone and us two were always covering up for him.’

  Awesome chuckled. ‘When you weren’t using the place yourself.’

  ‘True. But then “stolen fruit is always the sweetest”.’ Boston heaved a wistful sigh then led the way into the cave.

  To reach the cave proper, they had to zigzag between sloping buttresses of rock that in some places reduced the floor space to a V-shaped crevice. A few yards further in, the walls opened out to form a dry, roughly oval chamber with a uneven, split-level floor. The sides came together in an narrow ogee curve to form the ceiling but the rock slabs were mismatched, creating several vents through which an updraft cleared the smoke from the wood fire.

  Mr Snow lay on the upper ledge, propped up on a bed of furs; a convenient slope in the far wall on which a bearskin had been laid served as a back support. To his right, Cadillac sat cross-ledgged on a talking mat, holding onto his mentor’s hand like a lost child who had just been returned to his parents.

  The two M’Call elders stoked up the blaze then positioned themselves by the entrance.

  ‘Greetings, Old One,’ said Steve.

  Mr Snow indicated the empty mat on the left side of his bed. The movement of his arm underlined his weakened physical condition. His voice was stronger than before but speaking still required a visible effort. ‘Sit here. That way I can box both your ears if you don’t behave yourselves.’

  Cadillac looked embarrassed. ‘It was all a misunderstanding, Old One.’

  ‘So you keep saying. Both of you still have a lot
to learn. You’re too headstrong, too impatient, too self-centred, too young! Hmmpff! You should be working together – striving for harmony, instead of constantly flying at each other’s throats!’

  Steve smiled. ‘News travels fast …’

  ‘Bad news always does,’ grumped Mr Snow.

  ‘I think Cadillac and I have both realized the error of our ways,’ said Steve, generously taking a share of the blame despite believing he was the innocent party.

  ‘Yes, well, they say miracles can happen. Let’s hope at least that when you leave here you will look at each other in a different light and both be a little wiser.’ Mr Snow closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He appeared to be trying to summon up the energy to continue.

  ‘Are you able to stand, Old One?’ asked Cadillac.

  ‘I can, yes, but I’m saving my strength for the big day. Now, let’s get down to business!’

  Cadillac brightened. ‘Are we to attack the iron-snake?’

  ‘That’s one of the things we have to talk about, yes.’

  ‘In that case you can save your breath,’ said Steve. ‘Roz, my kin-sister made contact yesterday.’ He looked across at Cadillac. ‘Just before you came to see me. We can’t rescue Clearwater. She isn’t fit enough. She’s gonna have to stay on the train and …’ He couldn’t bear to complete the sentence.

  Cadillac did it for him: ‘… be taken back to the Federation?’

  Steve nodded.

  The young Mute gazed at Steve with open-mouthed disbelief then exploded. ‘But this is outrageous! After all the talk, all the planning, all the arguments! After all the effort I put into rallying the clan behind me last night, are you now telling me it’s all been a complete waste of time?!’

  ‘What are you trying to do – make out that it’s my fault?!’ cried Steve.

  ‘Well, you were the one that came up with this stupid idea!’

  ‘I see … now that it’s fallen through it’s suddenly a stupid idea and it’s all down to me! Amazing! If we’d been able to pull it off, you’d have been trampling over our backs in the rush to grab all the credit!’

  Mr Snow’s eyes blazed. He slapped the air in front of him, crossing his right forearm above the left in a scissor-like motion.