‘If I leave now I could get there and back before the dragons get here.’ This was more a question than a statement.
Fern looked horrified. ‘I can’t bring the rest of the dead up here by myself.’
Carnelian grimaced.
‘I could help,’ said Poppy, a determined look in her eye.
‘Even if you had the strength,’ said Fern, ‘it’s not woman’s work.’
Glancing west again Carnelian was more and more certain there were riders there. ‘Sthax can help you.’ Then, seeing Fern’s puzzlement: ‘The Maruli.’
Fern scowled.
‘At this moment I’m more concerned with the living than the dead. If you want to save these last few souls you’ll allow Sthax to help you.’
The need to get going overwhelmed Carnelian. Without waiting for an answer, he made for the steps.
The moment he reached the shade of the first mother tree Carnelian freed his face from his uba and breathed deep. After the summit the cedar perfume was so fresh it brought tears to his eyes. As he made his way down the Sorrowing he gazed about him as if he were seeing the Grove for the last time.
Sthax was sitting on a root step. When he heard Carnelian approach he rose, grinning. Carnelian pointed insistently back up towards the Crag. Carnelian watched him climb the rootstair, then ran down to the Childsgate where they had tethered the aquar.
She was there, sunk to the ground, snoozing in the shade. Climbing into her saddle-chair, he made her rise and rode her round to the Southgate. Soon they were coursing down the Southing. When they reached the Newditch, Carnelian glanced back to the Crag, then sent her speeding westwards across the open plain.
There were enough aquar pulling drag-cradles for them to have flattened a road through the ferns. The shape of their saddle-chairs was characteristically Darkcloud and it was Krow riding up in front. They raced forward to meet Carnelian, giving him no time to examine their convoy.
Krow gave a grim nod as he approached. ‘Master.’
The Darkcloud round him were less restrained in their greeting. Looking among them Carnelian was pleased to see men he knew and greeted those he did by name, lighting smiles among them.
Noses wrinkled, eyes registered the staining on Carnelian’s robes and skin. He had become so accustomed to being filthy he had not considered the impression he would give. Horror and disgust had spread to all their faces.
‘I’ve been working with Ochre Fern and Twostone Poppy to save the souls of the Ochre.’ Their looks of compassion made him feel a kinship with them, but there was no time to linger on that. ‘The Master’s been defeated.’
The Plainsmen gaped, staring, but it was Krow who erupted towards him. ‘You lie!’
Carnelian drew back in surprise. ‘I assure you, Krow, it’s true. Even now he flees before the dragons.’ He pointed north.
‘Our people have seen dragonfire on the horizon,’ said one of the Darkcloud. Several more declared they must return home immediately. Krow was gazing northwards, his face sagging with utter disbelief.
Carnelian raised himself up in his saddle-chair. ‘You’ll not save your people by hiding in your koppie.’
Their fear turned to anger and they challenged him. In answer he pointed at the drag-cradles. ‘First of all you must destroy that salt.’
Outrage turned them into a mob. He shouted them down. ‘Listen to me.’
One of their leaders swung his arm back to take in the cradles. ‘You’d have us destroy such a vast treasure?’
‘It belongs to us all,’ cried one.
‘We’ve bought it with our blood,’ said another.
Their leader bared his teeth. ‘We’ll take it as our reward for serving the Master.’
Carnelian fought his own rising anger. ‘To our shame we’ve all served the Master.’ He could not help glancing back at Krow, who had subsided into his chair. He looked as many of the Darkcloud in the eyes as he could. ‘I’m as guilty as any here, but now I say to you it’s over. Whatever ambitions the Master put in your hearts, let them go. It’s clear for all to see that everything he promised you is turning to dust. Your only hope now is to return to the way things were.’
‘To be slaves to the Standing Dead?’
Carnelian fixed the speaker with a glare. ‘Do you really believe you’ve ever been anything else?’
The contempt in his voice cooled their defiance. He pointed at the salt again. ‘If you keep that for yourselves, you will earn the envy and hatred of the other tribes. If you share it with them, you might avoid strife for a while, but, ask yourselves, would you or your sons then willingly go into the legions to earn the Gods’ salt? If not, how long do you think it would be before the Standing Dead came to find out why you no longer chose to serve them?’
Consternation broke out again, but Carnelian sensed their anger was really fear.
‘Let’s say we destroy the salt, what then? Would we be protected from those dragons?’ Their leader indicated the approaching dust-cloud.
Carnelian had no answer. Even if they managed to give up Osidian, alive, would Aurum return to the Guarded Land without inflicting retribution? Carnelian remembered how much Aurum liked to enforce the Law. All Osidian’s tribes had seen him and Carnelian without masks. Just for that the penalty was death.
His doubt was infecting the Plainsmen. He looked to Krow, but there was no help there. Before he knew it he was saying: ‘I have a plan that might save you all.’
Their faces lit with hope, but Carnelian, needing time to think, looked away down the convoy. ‘First I must see how much salt you’ve brought.’
He rode his aquar down the flank of the column. There were hundreds of drag-cradles, heavily laden. Overwhelming wealth. Notions of using it himself flitted through his mind. How else was he to make good on his promise to them? How could he save them from Aurum?
Coming to the end of the convoy, he saw its rump, creatures on foot. A mass of matted hair and misshapen bodies clad in verminous rags. Sartlar. Distaste rose in him like bile. His render dream came back to him as he recalled with disgust how they had turned pygmies into broth then fed on them.
He walked his aquar back up the column, the taste of the dream in his mouth. He eyed Aurum’s dust-cloud. They were running out of time. He almost cried out as an idea began forming in his mind. It was a narrow, dangerous path, but it might just be a way to salvation. There was no time to analyse it. The leaders of the Darkcloud were waiting for him, Krow among them.
‘First we must save the people who are fleeing with the Master before the dragons.’
His certainty stiffened spines. Even Krow became alert.
He gazed towards the Koppie. Osidian would not have told him to send the salt to the Bluedancing koppie unless he thought it safe from Aurum. He had an inkling why that might be true and, for the moment, he would have to build his own plan upon Osidian’s.
He looked back at the Darkcloud. ‘We’ll convene a council of war in the koppie of the Bluedancing.’
Men shifted uneasily, gauging each other’s reaction with sidelong glances.
‘Will you trust me?’
Many still looked unconvinced.
Krow rode forward, grim, haunted. ‘When this Master led you before didn’t he help you save your koppie from the Marula?’
They looked to their leaders, who looked at each other. First one then another began nodding. There was not time for Carnelian to feel triumphant. ‘The salt first. We need the drag-cradles cleared to evacuate your people from your koppie.’
Not giving them time to think further he rode back along the convoy and was relieved when they followed him. Everywhere Darkcloud were throwing off the protective blankets to reveal the sparkling white slabs stacked beneath. Carnelian could sense how great was their reluctance to destroy such wealth. ‘Unhitch the drag-cradles,’ he cried.
He allowed Krow to overtake him. ‘Thank you.’
Krow shrugged.
‘Will you ride with me?’
&nbs
p; Krow nodded.
‘Well, then, choose forty of the bravest from among those who least fear the Master.’
Krow jerked a nod then rode away. Carnelian gave his attention to instilling confidence in the Darkcloud leaders. Soon they were bellowing orders. At first the Plainsmen lifted the slabs with care. After the first shattered among the meshing fernroots, more followed. Soon their work of destruction took on a fury of its own. Crystals flashed in the air so that the men in the midst of the destruction seemed to be splashing about in water as they ground shards to powder with their heels. Aquar, lifting heads crowned with startled eye-plumes, shied away from the mayhem.
Carnelian rode back towards the sartlar. As he approached they collapsed to the ground grovelling. This added to his disgust. ‘Kor?’
One of the shapeless mounds rose. The hag’s disfigured face slipped free of her mane. He had forgotten how fearfully ugly she was. ‘Will your people be able to keep up with the riders?’
She bowed her head. ‘Master.’
He took that for a yes. Pity overcame his loathing. He wondered why Krow had brought the sartlar from the Upper Reach. It seemed unlikely any would survive what was to come.
Hubbub rushed through the convoy towards him. Looking up, he saw everyone gazing towards the Koppie. Smoke was rising from the Crag. Fear clutched him. It was a signal from Fern. He sped back across a frost of salt to the Darkcloud leaders.
‘Send messengers to all the tribes. All must do what they can for their own protection, then send representatives to a council of war to be held tonight in the koppie of the Bluedancing. Get your own people there with all the djada and water they can gather. If they stay at home, they’ll be trapped between the Backbone and the dragons.’
When he was sure they understood, Carnelian joined Krow and the men he had picked and, with two riderless aquar, he led them at full pelt towards the Koppie.
Smoke rising from the Koppie made Carnelian recall the plague sign on his ride to Osrakum. Ravens disturbed by it swarmed the Crag like flies. He saw his dread mirrored on the faces of the Plainsmen round him. All could see these omens of death.
It was past midday when they reached the Newditch. Fern’s signal had frayed away on the breeze. The ravens had settled once more to their feasting. Carnelian led the Darkcloud up the Southing. When they neared the Southgate bridge they saw two figures, Fern and Poppy, waiting for them. Sthax gleamed behind them in the gloom under the cedars.
The Darkcloud regarded Fern as if he were a living corpse. One bowed his head. ‘May we set foot upon your earth, Ochre Fern?’
Fern gave his leave then turned troubled eyes on Carnelian. ‘Marula approach the Koppie, Plainsmen covering their retreat. Auxiliaries pursue them closely and… dragons.’
‘Any sign of the Master?’ Carnelian asked.
‘A small group is coming up the Sorrowing.’
Carnelian prayed this would be Osidian with his Oracles. Morunasa was sure to be with him and might be their best hope of taking Osidian without a fight. He turned in his saddle-chair and scanned the grim faces of the Darkcloud. ‘We must take the Master alive.’
Colour drained from their faces. Krow looked sick.
‘If he escapes, the dragons will lay waste to every koppie many days’ ride in all directions. If we manage to get his body, the same. Only if we have him living can we hope to survive. Will you help me?’
The Darkcloud looked to their leaders who, after exchanging glances, reluctantly gave Carnelian their support.
‘And you, Krow?’
Chewing his lip the youth gave a nod. Fern stood forward, eyes blazing. ‘I’ll have nothing to do with this murderer.’
Krow withered under Fern’s glare. Carnelian saw with what horror the Darkcloud turned to regard the youth. He had mixed feelings, but owed him a debt. ‘Krow, will you take Poppy with you down to the Old Bloodwood Tree and watch over her?’
Poppy began a protest that Carnelian silenced with a look. ‘Please, Krow.’
He felt a burst of relief as the youth rode up to Poppy, leaning to offer her his hand. Frowning she took hold of it and he swung her up to sit on his lap. Carnelian asked a couple of Darkcloud to go with them, then, after Fern and Sthax were mounted on the aquar he had brought for them, he led them and the remaining Darkcloud round the Homing to the Childsgate, where they all dismounted. As he directed them to conceal themselves in the shadows Carnelian noticed how the Darkcloud stole furtive glances up the hill, how they whispered to each other, how they trod the carpet of cedar needles as if they were afraid to wake the women lying among the roots of their mother trees.
Through the wicker of the Childsgate Carnelian could see riders coming towards them across the Poisoned Field. He drew back to join Fern and Sthax, then glanced round to make sure the Darkcloud were ready. The gate swung open, flooding light into the Grove that flashed and darkened as several aquar rode through. Quickly Carnelian recognized the leading rider by his frame to be Osidian, who was squinting, still blind in the gloom. Carnelian gestured for the Darkcloud to surround the riders, all Oracles. Stepping to block Osidian’s path he pulled his uba down from his mouth.
‘Carnelian?’ Osidian, wrinkling his nose, made Carnelian aware of how filthy he must look. ‘Has Krow arrived with the salt?’
‘Where’s Morunasa?’
‘With the Marula.’
Carnelian had counted on him being with Osidian. What now?
Osidian was frowning. ‘There’s no time for this. Aurum’s almost upon us.’ His eyes darted as he became aware of the encircling Darkcloud. He grew enraged. ‘Get back, Plainsmen, unless you want my wrath to fall upon your kin.’
Carnelian saw the Darkcloud were wavering but, before he could act, Fern was there, thrusting a spear point to within a hand’s breadth of Osidian’s face. Osidian started a little then turned upon Carnelian. ‘Call off your barbarian boy,’ he said in chilling Quya.
The spear point, finding Osidian’s throat, scratched blood when he swatted it away.
‘Another sound and you die, Master,’ hissed Fern through clenched teeth.
Sthax stepped forward with frantic eyes. Carnelian spoke to the Maruli in a soothing tone. When he was sure the man would not interfere, he turned back to Fern. He saw the lust in his face for Osidian’s death. ‘Fern, we need him alive.’ He made a hurried decision. Raising his hand he indicated three of the Darkcloud leaders to remain, then, in a low voice, he told the rest to mount up and take the Oracles back through the gate. The Oracles looked to Osidian for guidance, but Darkcloud spears herded them out of the Grove.
Carnelian was aware of Fern as he addressed Osidian. ‘I’ve destroyed the salt. It’s over.’
Osidian’s eyes became hooded. ‘More treachery, Carnelian?’
Carnelian mastered a burst of anger before he replied. ‘I’m only doing what I should’ve done long ago. If I had, perhaps the Tribe would still be living.’
He turned to Fern. ‘Please, Fern, think of what there is to lose.’
Fern clenched his spear tighter, but backed away enough to allow Carnelian to approach Osidian. Close up his skin looked sallow, moist.
‘Do you still have the worms in you?’ he asked in Quya.
When Osidian looked down at him, Carnelian saw that his eyes were rimmed with shadow. In spite of everything that had happened he did not like seeing him like that. Osidian grinned and his teeth seemed yellow. ‘It is not too high a price to speak to a god.’
Carnelian glanced at the three Darkcloud then at Fern. ‘I’m going to have to leave the Master in your care.’
As Fern’s face crumpled, Carnelian wondered if Osidian would be safe with his friend, but knew he had no choice. ‘Be certain, Osidian, that, if you vex him, Fern and these others will slay you.’
Osidian seemed not to have heard. His eyes had lost their fire and it was as if he was no longer there. Carnelian did not trust that. He reached up to Osidian’s aquar, ready to make it sink should he try to escape. He w
aited until Fern and the Darkcloud had mounted before signing Sthax to mount. Only then did he himself clamber into his saddle-chair.
‘Where’re you going?’ Fern demanded as Carnelian’s aquar rose.
‘To persuade Morunasa to save the Plainsmen.’
Fern grimaced. ‘What?’
Carnelian did not have time to explain. He made his aquar turn.
‘I’ll come with you,’ cried Fern.
Carnelian looked back. ‘I really need you to keep the Master safe.’
He saw Fern understood: even weakened as the Master was the Darkcloud might not be able to resist his power of command. When Sthax rode through the gate, Carnelian and his aquar slipped into the light after him.
Their aquar churned ash up from the Poisoned Field as they sped across it and down the Sorrowing. As he crossed the Near Sorrowbridge, he saw a wall of smoke ahead. Rising higher than the Koppie’s outer ring of trees, it was approaching like a sandstorm. His feet sent his aquar loping towards it. Soon he was riding parallel to Sthax, then with the Darkcloud, the Oracles in their midst. The faces he could see were stiff with fear. He rode on, watching the smoke fumbling towards them through the trees.
Acrid air caught at their throats as they crossed the last earthbridge out onto the fernland. Behind the billowing mass of smoke rolling towards them lurked mountainous shadows. Carnelian was shocked to find that Aurum had already arrived. Then he was startled when something resembling an arc of lightning came alive behind the veil. A screaming followed, like metal shearing; shrill, unbearable.
Squinting, he searched for Morunasa’s Marula. At the foot of the smoke wall a tide of them was mounding towards him in full flight. Just behind the Marula, partially obscured by haze, he saw Osidian’s Plainsmen. In close pursuit, a crescent of riders was extending its horns out on either flank: knowing Osidian had entered the Koppie, Aurum was attempting to encircle it with his auxiliaries.
Looking round, Carnelian saw the Darkcloud, wide-eyed, gaping. He shouted at them, but they seemed deaf. He rode his aquar into their midst, bellowing: ‘If you want your people to survive, reach the other tribes.’ He pointed at the Plainsmen hurtling towards them. ‘Get as many of them as you can to the Bluedancing.’
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