Peering among the trees nervously, the youth shrugged.
Carnelian could see between the branches the plain of the Earthsky laid out as a shimmering sea. The twin shadows of the crags were spilling down over the forest and out on to the plain. The sweet air could not lull his feeling of foreboding. His gaze strayed down to a nearby cedar, among whose roots some shards were nestling. He went to pick up a piece. By its curvature, the crude earthenware had come from a large jar. He could tell from the different hues that several vessels had been shattered. Something stirring above him made him start. Looking up, he saw that the shoulders of the branches were hung about with bags and bundles, many of which had been torn open. Wrapped around one bough he saw what appeared to be a rope-ladder dangling crookedly, its rungs here and there torn or missing. Looking at it more closely, he discovered that the stumps still hanging in the twine were the ends of wizened roots. Stowed in the angles of the branches were more bundles in disarray.
Voices behind him made him turn. Seeing it was Fern returned, he ran back.
‘Isn’t it possible the Twostone are simply delayed in their return from migration?’ Osidian was asking him.
Fern shook his head. ‘No tribe would dare cross the Earthsky once the raveners have returned.’
Carnelian was about to tell Fern of the signs of looting he had found when a cry shrilled, so thin with panic it might almost have been the calling of a bird. Fern careered down the hill in the direction of the sound. Carnelian’s urge to run after him made his heart race. Standing in the shade of an immense branch with Ravan, Osidian looked fearfully pale.
‘Had you not better run after him?’ he said.
There was a menacing coolness in his tone which Carnelian was in no mood to engage with. He looked down the hill and saw Fern dappling in shadows as he sped under the trees.
‘Yes, I want to, but will you not come?’
‘Masters do not run.’
Carnelian heard the shrilling cry again, uttered some excuse and sprang down the hill. Osidian’s disapproval only served to spur him to greater speed. Resined air blew in his face as he rushed through the flickering shades. Hurtling round a rock, he saw Fern with one of the youths, whose tears showed how dirty his face was. He was sobbing words. Fern’s grimace showed he could not understand.
‘Show me,’ he bellowed. The youth gaped at him, stunned, so that Fern had to shove him into motion. The youth ran off as if a ravener were after him. Carnelian and Fern gave chase.
The youth took them through another gate in the skull wall in the mouth of which another huskman lay, discarded. They crossed the two inner ditches and were tiring when they approached the outer ring of magnolias. Reaching the gate that led out on to the plain, the youth came to a halt. He stood transfixed, staring. Carnelian saw in the glare that the plain seemed to have been ploughed up.
‘You had better stay here,’ Fern said to the youth, before, setting his face into a grim mask, he walked out across the bridge. A premonition made Carnelian hesitate, but then, cursing, he left the shade and followed his friend.
Drag-cradles and saddle-chairs were scattered everywhere under a smashed littering of bones. Stained brown, crushed for their marrow; skulls cracked open for their meat: the inedible remains of people and aquar.
Carnelian heard footsteps. Glancing round, he saw the youth had trailed after them. His eyes were weeping like wounds, his lips glistening with mucus as he gaped at the carnage.
‘You,’ roared Fern, ‘go back to the koppie, find Loskai and send him down here.’ He made sure the youth was moving away before he turned back.
‘A battle?’ Carnelian asked, as his eyes flickered over the corpses.
Fern rounded on him. ‘Can’t you see this was a massacre?’
Carnelian lifted his hands. ‘I didn’t mean …’
‘No,’ said Fern and wandered a little deeper into the carnage.
Carnelian followed. ‘Who could’ve done this?’
Fern shook his head slowly. The shock had frozen his mouth open. As they walked in among the dead, they had to pull their ubas over their faces as a filter against the charnel stench. Carnelian concentrated on putting his feet down without treading on splintered bone. A skull tumbled alongside a twisted drag-cradle still had grey wisps of hair. Another was too small to belong to an adult.
‘These are the Twostone,’ he breathed.
Fern’s eyes twitched as he scanned them. ‘The whole tribe as near as I can tell,’ he said, speaking through the cloth pulled across his mouth and nose. ‘Men and women. Young and old.’
Carnelian could not judge how many people were lying there but their bones were like shingle on a beach. An arrow projecting from a ribcage caught his eye. He stooped and withdrew it. It was as long as his arm, with a stump of obsidian where its arrowhead had broken off. It was fletched with black feathers.
He held the thing up for Fern to see. ‘Is this a Plainsman arrow?’
Lunging towards him with burning eyes, Fern snatched it. He had to allow his uba to fall away from his face so that he could examine the arrow in both hands. He looked up to say something, then was distracted by something he saw behind Carnelian, causing him to turn.
Osidian and Ravan were coming towards them across the plain, keeping in the narrow shadow cast by one of the crags. A ghost walking upon a path of darkness accompanying a child. Carnelian’s sweat went cold. He shook himself free of the illusion; told himself the horror was playing tricks with his mind. ‘He’s got you seeing omens everywhere,’ he muttered. It was just Osidian seeking to protect his skin from the sun.
Osidian’s Quya carried towards them on the rising fetor. ‘Who is responsible for this?’
‘We have found an arrow,’ Carnelian said.
‘Plainsman?’
‘Apparently not.’ Carnelian saw with what gaping horror Ravan was surveying the scene.
‘Who did this?’ Osidian asked Fern in Vulgate, but the Plainsman had noticed Loskai crossing the koppie bridge and was deaf to the Master.
‘Plainsmen?’ Osidian asked, more insistently.
Fern’s face darkened as he seemed to see Osidian for the first time. ‘Don’t be stupid. Do you really believe one tribe would do this to another?’
Osidian pierced him with his green eyes. ‘If not the Plainsmen, who?’
Carnelian had been watching Loskai. With a strange fascination he watched the man grow sickly as his eyes gathered in the enormity of the destruction.
‘This must be all of them, poor bastards.’
Fern gave him the arrow. Loskai took it and frowned as he turned it in his hands. He looked up and shrugged.
‘Whoever did this, might they not still be here?’ Carnelian said.
Loskai grew even paler. ‘He’s right.’
Fern was looking in horror to where Krow was coming over the bridge from the koppie.
‘We can’t let him see this.’
Fern was clearly about to dash back to intercept the youth when Ravan caught hold of his arm. ‘What about our people?’
Fern tore free. ‘What are you talking about? I don’t have time for this.’
‘Our tributaries.’
‘They would’ve been here well after this happened,’ snapped Fern, but Carnelian could see with what intensified horror his friend regarded the carnage.
Bleakly, Ravan looked out across the bone-strewn earth. ‘They might be here …’
Fern advanced on him. ‘They’re not here,’ he bellowed. ‘They couldn’t be. They weren’t meant to arrive here until at least twenty days after the Twostone returned.’
Ravan’s face brightened with hope. ‘And we delayed them …’
Loskai groaned. He pointed at the massacre. ‘We don’t even know if the murdering bastards are gone. Even if they are, they might well have been here when the tributaries came through.’ He looked back at the koppie. ‘We might find our people up there.’
Carnelian felt their misery as if it were his own. ‘
I’ll go with you.’
Fern turned blind eyes on him. ‘You wouldn’t know what to look for; where to go. Do one thing for me.’
Carnelian saw his friend focus on him. ‘Anything.’
‘You and Ravan look after the Twostone lad. We’ll send the others down to you. Build a fire somewhere within the outer ditch. Keep them safe.’
Carnelian gave a hard nod.
Fern thanked him with his eyes, grabbed Loskai’s shoulder and together they ran back towards the koppie bridge. Carnelian, watching them, only after a while became aware of Osidian looking at him with cold eyes.
When darkness fell, Carnelian could no longer deny his fear that something had happened to Fern. He had sat with Krow while Ravan went to marshal the others to build a fire in the ferngarden, beside the earthbridge. Thankfully, dusk now hid the massacre.
Carnelian sneaked a look at Krow’s face and saw it was still blank with misery. He had tried to comfort him but even to Carnelian his words had sounded empty.
He gripped the spear he was leaning against his shoulder more tightly and ground its haft into the earth. He glanced round and peered among the dark masses of the surrounding trees longing for Fern and Loskai to return, while all the time, fearing the sudden rush of a murderous attack.
The moon had risen when something came towards them through the ferns. Carnelian leapt to his feet, gripping his spear with both hands as he levelled it at the darkness. Some of the youths were asking questions in shaky voices. He was reassured to see in the corner of his vision Osidian alongside him ready with another spear.
‘It’s us,’ Fern’s voice called out as he and Loskai solidified from the darkness.
Carnelian raised the spear with relief. The youths released their tension in laughter and questions as they mobbed the returning men.
‘Let us near the fire first,’ said Loskai.
The youths quietened and let Fern and Loskai through. Carnelian watched the two men crouch and stretch their hands out seeking the comfort of the flames. Their foreheads moulded into frowns, their squinting eyes sought the burning heart of the fire. Uneasy, everyone settled down to wait until the two men were ready to speak.
At last, Loskai tore his gaze free of the flames and looked round the circle of faces, his burning eyes settled on Krow. ‘They came in from the west across the Bloodbridge. The huskman there failed in his duty and allowed himself to be cast aside. They desecrated many hearths.’
‘Why?’ Krow demanded with a chilling voice.
Loskai shrugged. ‘Searching for food; water perhaps, many of the jars were broken.’
‘What else?’
Loskai dropped his gaze as if ashamed. ‘They lit fires …’ He paused. ‘On the floor of your Ancestor House.’
Wide-eyed horror greeted his words.
‘Some of them must’ve lived in there,’ said Fern. He braved Krow’s stare. ‘The place was filthy.’
Fern’s eyes followed a billow of smoke up into the black air. ‘There’s more.’
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes, lowered them, quickly glanced at Loskai, then looked at Krow.
‘They felled three mother trees.’
Carnelian could see Krow’s lip trembling.
‘Then the Mother has abandoned this koppie,’ said Ravan. Krow jumped to his feet. ‘You don’t know that!’
Fern flared his palms. ‘He didn’t mean –’
‘Why? Why did they need to cut down our mother trees?’
‘To burn their dead,’ said Loskai. ‘We found a pyre in an outer ferngarden. Charred bones on charcoaled ground. The wind must’ve blown the ash away.’ He opened his hand upon which there lay something like fragments of shell. ‘They were raveners in human shape. Look at these teeth we found.’
Krow took them, his eyes falling on them with burning hatred.
‘May I have one?’ Carnelian said.
The look Krow turned on Carnelian struck like a blow.
‘I might be able to tell you something about them.’
The youth extended his hand and Carnelian took one of the teeth and peered at it. Its human roots tapered to an animal point. He turned the tooth in the flickering light.
‘Filed,’ he announced, remembering the teeth of the men who had escorted them from the sea to Osrakum. He looked over at Fern. ‘Was there anything strange about these bones you found?’
Fern looked exasperated. ‘In what way strange?’
‘Were they long?’
‘Long?’ Fern’s eyebrows raised. ‘Now you mention it, I suppose they were, but what –?’
‘Marula. Is it possible the remains were Marula?’
Krow’s mouth fell open.
‘How could they be?’ said Loskai angrily. ‘When have Marula ever attacked a koppie? Besides, we’re far away from where their lands are supposed to lie.’
‘They’re very tall,’ said Fern looking into the darkness as if he were seeing one of the black men standing there. ‘I saw one in Makar on our way to the Mountain. I’d forgotten his ravener grin.’
‘I’m sure your mother’s not forgotten,’ sneered Loskai.
Fern tensed and fixed him with a look that made the smile fall from Loskai’s lips.
‘What about our people?’ said Ravan, scowling at Loskai.
Fern turned to his brother with anger still glinting in his eyes. ‘We searched the whole koppie, but found no sign of them. It’s likely when they arrived it was as it is now and they went quickly home.’
‘They left no sign for us? They must’ve known we’d be through here.’
‘None we could find,’ said Fern.
‘It’s likely they believe us dead,’ said Loskai.
Ravan looked unhappy. ‘Then we must get back as soon as we can.’
‘What are they babbling about now?’ Osidian asked in haughty Quyan tones.
Carnelian could see how much the sound of that language oppressed the Plainsmen. ‘How they might get home as swiftly as they can.’
Osidian turned to Fern. ‘How shall we get to your koppie now?’
‘Without aquar …’ Fern shook his head.
‘Couldn’t you obtain aquar from a neighbouring tribe?’
Loskai gave a sneer. ‘Do you believe, Master, they would just give them to us?’
‘You have enough salt to buy the aquar several times over.’
Loskai patted the shape slung across his back. ‘This was bought with the blood of the Tribe and must not be squandered lightly.’
‘Besides, Master,’ said Fern, ‘we know the nearest tribes are on feuding terms with the Twostone and, thus, with us too. They’re more likely to take our salt than accept it in exchange for aquar.’ He shook his head and looked round sadly. ‘We might as well face it, we’re going to have to walk.’
The youths raised a chorus of protest.
‘What if these Marula moved south to attack the Koppie?’ demanded Ravan.
Fern smiled wanly. ‘The cistern here was drained dry. Loskai and I believe from what we’ve seen the Marula were here throughout the Withering. We all saw how little water the cistern held when we set off from here with the tributaries. For such a length of time it wouldn’t have sustained a large number of them.’
‘They might’ve brought water with them,’ Ravan threw back at him.
Fern shook his head. ‘We saw no evidence they had aquar. Without drag-cradles, they could’ve carried only a few days’ supply.’
Ravan looked childlike. ‘Can you promise me the Koppie is safe?’
‘The pyre we found here contained the bones of many men. However many of them came here, when they left, their numbers were severely reduced by the prowess of the Twostone.’ He twitched a smile at Krow.
‘Promise me,’ Ravan demanded.
Fern frowned. ‘How can I do that?’
Ravan opened his mouth to say something more but Loskai spoke over him. ‘Your brother’s right. Tomorrow we’ll gather what supplies we can and beg
in the journey home on foot.’
Krow demanded Carnelian return the tooth and, when he had it, he put it away with the rest somewhere in his robe.
Fern woke them from disturbed dreams into the first grey of morning. Carnelian could barely make out the faces round him but could hear in their groans how low their spirits were. Several of the youths, glancing in the direction of the massacre, drew his eyes there too. Though he could see nothing, he was glad to turn his back on it and follow Fern across the ferngarden towards the cedars.
Even as they searched for unbroken jars in the glooms beneath the fragrant trees, Carnelian felt the redness oozing up into the sky as if its hem were steeping in the blood of the massacred. He moved quickly into the dusk beneath another tree.
Eventually, homing in on Fern’s call, Carnelian converged with the others on a gate in the skull wall at the western edge of the cedar grove.
‘This was where the bastards came in,’ said Ravan, scowling.
Krow lifted his head but said nothing. Carnelian was glad of the koppie crags that stood grimly black between the youth and the massacre. As they sorted through the fernroot they had salvaged, Carnelian noticed with unease the guardian huskman lying discarded to one side staring at him. However much he moved around he could not rid himself of the mummy’s attention.
At last they were ready to set off. He had volunteered to carry a waterskin. Each time he took a step he could feel the wobble in its belly of precious water. He had allowed them to tie a bale of fern-root to his back. Winding the uba over his face, he followed them out across the bridge and down an avenue of cone trees.
When he became aware of the grating sound following him, he turned and saw Krow dragging the huskman along the path by a rope. Seeing the tight mask of the youth’s face, Carnelian bit back his questions.
When they reached the outmost ditch, they paused a while to prepare themselves for the brightening plain, then Fern led them out of the koppie. The scraping sound the huskman made set Carnelian to grinding his teeth. Then the sound stopped. Turning, he saw Krow standing over the huskman. He kicked it. Again. Again. Soon the huskman was bucking under a general assault as, one by one, the Ochre joined in until, at last, only Carnelian and Osidian remained aloof as they watched the Plainsmen vent their rage on the mummy. Fern it was who called a stop to the punishment. He had to drag Krow off. The youth swung at him, snarling and Fern took some blows before he managed to calm him down. Krow spat upon the huskman, turned away and began walking towards the Backbone ridge. Osidian went after him and, with his huge strides, had soon overtaken him and then they walked together, talking. As he followed with everyone else, Carnelian wondered, uneasily, what Osidian might have to say to Krow. Glancing back he saw the shrivelled, broken man, now food for scavengers.
The Standing Dead (The Stone Dance Of The Chameleon) Page 16