The Standing Dead sdotc-2

by Ricardo Pinto

Fern yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. 'We fell asleep then?'

  Thankfully there's no harm done.'

  They stood up and stretched, groaning, their backs aching from the way they had been sleeping, propping each other up. Still wrapped in his blanket, Carnelian started walking down towards the chasm. Soon the sun would be scorching down but the morning was still cold and the ground glittered with dew.

  Fern came to join him. 'Where are you going?'

  Carnelian turned. To wait for our sartlar friends.'

  'You were right. In the morning light, they seem less terrifying.'

  When they reached the edge of the chasm, they saw it was clogged with mist. Carnelian was relieved to find the Ladder was where it had been the night before. He leaned over and looked along the wall of the chasm to the sartlar ladder.

  'No sign of them.'

  'Everyone sleeps late after a night of feasting,' said Fern.

  Carnelian turned and saw his friend's wry grin, then walked back towards one of the anchor baobabs. When he reached it he sat, leaning his back against its trunk.

  'You're going to wait for them?' asked Fern.

  'I want to make sure we finish the Ladder today.'

  'Do you mean to confront them?'

  Carnelian frowned. 'I'm not sure yet. Do we have enough food to share with them?'

  Fern frowned and shook his head. 'I'll wait with you.'

  He sat down beside Carnelian and, closing their eyes, they basked in the morning sun.

  The sartlar came creeping over the chasm rim, bent as if they were carrying burdens on their backs. They fell still when Carnelian rose and gibbered as he approached.

  'Kor,' he called, searching for her. Though he could not see the woman this did not mean she was not there. Sartlar were more alike than aquar.

  One detached from the herd. He recognized Kor by her shambling gait. As she came closer she sank to her knees. Behind her came the rest, in sullen subservience. He tried to wave them away but they did not respond. Their heads were bowed down to their feet and he could not tell if any were even looking at him.

  'Come, Kor, follow me,' he said and stooped. At his touch she jerked violently, causing him to pull his hand away. He watched her get slowly to her feet, groaning.

  'Are you in pain?'

  The sartlar looked up at him. 'For the living the world holds nothing but pain.'

  He wondered that philosophy should come from such a creature.

  'Follow me.' He turned his back and walked away but did not hear her following. Looking back, he saw she had remained where she was.

  'Come on,' he said more insistently. His tone seemed to jerk her to life and she hobbled after him. They walked together towards the anchor baobab in which he had found the render.

  'What's in this tree, Kor?'

  'We have to labour on the Ladder, Master.'

  Tell me what this tree contains.'

  The sartlar looked up at him through her hair. 'It's a tree, Master.'

  'A hollow one.'

  Her shoulders rose and fell.

  'I've seen what lies in it.'

  She lifted her face so that her chin emerged through her hair. He saw her raw lips opening. 'We have to eat.'

  Carnelian's scrutiny lingered on her mouth with its rotting teeth. He tore his eyes away. 'Surely you could have found something else?'

  'We could have eaten each other, Master.'

  Carnelian failed to discern any emotion in her voice. 'You killed the pygmies.'

  Again the shrug.

  'Did you?' he insisted.

  They tried to starve us, Master.'

  Carnelian's eyes were drawn to the Isle of Flies. 'What about their masters?'

  'We didn't go there,' said Kor.

  He looked down at her.

  The Darkness fed on the rainmen.'

  'What?'

  Her head fell.

  'Do you mean Oracles?' Carnelian remembered something Osidian had said when he returned from the island. Cannibalism. Had a sartlar siege reduced the Oracles to that? Whatever had happened, Carnelian could guess what would befall this woman and her people should he tell Morunasa even the little she had confessed. Yet if he said nothing, who else might suffer? Osidian's death would not change the necessity to return the Upper Reach to the Oracles. If Morunasa was typical, they were merciless. Carnelian needed time to think.

  'Go. Finish the Ladder.'

  Kor stood like a boulder. 'Will the other Master return with rainmen?' 'I don't know.'

  'Will you show them what's in the hollow tree?'

  He shook his head. 'I'm not sure…'

  They would feed us alive to their Darkness.'

  Her filthy mouth again drew his queasy fascination. He imagined what it had been eating. Suddenly he needed to be rid of her.

  'You disgust me,' he spat and immediately felt his anger gone. Almost, he apologized.

  'Yes, Master.' Kor made a painful prostration before him and then retreated towards the other sartlar. Carnelian looked on grimacing, feeling something of the desperation that had driven the creatures to eating human flesh. He had experienced their lot. What right had he to judge them?

  As the sartlar toiled, raising the last section of the Ladder, Carnelian, Fern, Krow and some other Plainsmen struggled to remove the girdling cables from the anchor trees. They snapped several spear hafts in the knots before they managed to work them loose.

  By this time, the sartlar were drawing the ends of the Ladder up onto level ground. As had been expected, these reached just to the anchor trees but no further. It was the turn of the Plainsmen. Using thin rope as a model, Carnelian had already shown them what he wanted to do. Using knots he had learned as a child on his island, they managed to join one of the Ladder cables to the fragment they had retied around the tree. The resulting knot was larger than a man's head. It was hard to believe it would hold. As Carnelian directed the sartlar to gradually release that side of the Ladder, everything began creaking, groaning, squeezing smaller. The whole system stuttered, then fell silent. Like everyone else, Carnelian was ready to run from the whiplash should it all come apart.

  'It holds,' said Fern at last, his voice loud in the silence.

  Carnelian and Krow whooped and the Plainsmen joined them.

  It was already getting dark when the other side of the Ladder was similarly secured. The Plainsmen celebrated while the sartlar looked on, as animated as rocks. They shied away from Carnelian as he walked in among them. He found Kor.

  'You've done well.' He gazed over the sartlar. 'You've all done well.'

  He looked down at Kor. 'Now go and rest.'

  'Rest is forbidden us,' the woman said.

  'But I've nothing more for you to do.'

  The other Master commanded us to quarry salt.'

  'Hush,' Carnelian said and looked round to see if any of the Plainsmen had heard her and was relieved when he saw them returning to the knoll.

  He looked back at Kor. Then you must obey his commands.'

  'And what shall we eat, Master?'

  Carnelian grimaced. There was no spare djada. 'Eat what there is in the tree.'

  'As the Master commands,' said the woman and limped off to join her fellow creatures, who were making their slow, melancholy way back to their caves.

  When Carnelian returned to the knoll, the fires were already lit. Their crackle and the mutter of Plainsman voices were comforting. Fern made a space for him at his side. Carnelian sat down and took the djada offered.

  The men would like you to know that most of the water caches in the trees have been drained,' Fern said, in a voice all were meant to hear.

  Then we'll have to fetch water from the river.'

  This was greeted with a murmur of discontent.

  'We wish to return to our peoples in the mountains,' said Ravan.

  'You know perfectly well the Master told us to wait here for him,' said Krow, his eyes flaming. 'And what if he doesn't return in time?' 'He will.' />
  Ravan stood up and looked around him. Loudly, he announced: 'Let's cut the Ladder and, in the morning, we'll leave this accursed place.'

  Silence fell across the knoll, disturbed only by a few mutters of agreement. When Krow made to confront Ravan, Carnelian held up a hand to stay him. 'Let him speak.'

  Ravan looked at Carnelian, surprised, then lifted his gaze over the camp.

  The Ochre who have lived with them will tell you the Standing Dead are nothing more than men. Yes, they have power, but it is not divine. We four tribes have now fought together. Why don't we go on? Which other tribe could stand against our joined might? Imagine what could flow from this alliance: the salt that would free us from service in the legions; the captured children we could send to the Mountain in place of our own. All this we could do once freed from the Master.'

  As voices broke out supporting Ravan, Carnelian saw how much the youth had become Osidian's pupil. He saw also what the consequence of such upheaval would be. The Wise would not tolerate such a challenge to their systems. But how could he explain to the Plainsmen the complex realities that lay behind the face the Commonwealth presented to its subjects? Still, this had to be stopped before it went too far. He rose.

  'Ravan is right, you could cut the Ladder and return to your peoples, but consider this: the Manila came up before and massacred two tribes; the next time they come up do you want them led by the Master?'

  Ravan saw Carnelian's words had spread dread. 'What of it? Did the Darkcloud not defeat them?'

  Several answered him.

  'Prepared, we could do so again.' His eyes became possessed by firelight. 'Perhaps we might even become strong enough to defy the Gatherers.'

  Fern leapt to his feet and began making appeals to those who had seen the dragons of the legions. 'Do you really believe we could defeat those?'

  Ravan thrust his head towards his brother. The Master believes so. He told me that is his plan.'

  Carnelian was shocked Osidian had confided so much in the youth. Then he has deceived you, as he has deceived himself. The methods he has used to overturn your lives are the same the Standing Dead use to rule the world. A legion is altogether another matter. The dragons cannot be defeated by riders however numerous. As for defeating the Manila, up until now, when they have come up onto the Earthsky, they have wandered blind in a land they did not know. Even so, they destroyed two tribes. As for the Darkcloud's victory, I led the attack. We only won because we surprised them.' He located the Darkcloud around their fires. 'How many would have fallen in a pitched battle?'

  Some of them shook their heads, but none spoke up.

  'If the Master led the Marula, they would move with more certainty than even you in your own land. If you doubt this, ask Ravan and any of the rest of us whom he guided through the swamp and across the Earthsky when no Plainsman knew the way.'

  Krow and Fern were nodding, as were many around other fires. Carnelian fixed Ravan with a glare.

  'Do you really believe you could defeat the Master in battle? Would you have beaten the Bluedancing? You were there, Ravan, scared in the darkness with the rest of us before the Master came. Could you' – he looked out over the camp – 'or any of you have killed a ravener single-handed with a spear?'

  His question echoed off the baobabs. Fern sat, then reached up and pulled his brother down. The youth scowled at the fire. Carnelian sank too and, ignoring Krow's stare, resumed the chewing of his djada. He was relieved when he heard chatter resume around the hearths.

  At a sign from Carnelian, Fern and he slipped away from the drowsy camp to sit on the slope of the knoll from which they could keep a watch on the sartlar ladder.

  'We got away with it this time,' said Fern.

  Carnelian nodded. The next time might not be so easy.' He had hated threatening them with Osidian. It made him feel as if he was collaborating with him. He turned to his friend.

  'Hasn't this made you feel it might well be safer if we were to bring Ravan into our circle?'

  Fern shook his head vigorously. 'He's too erratic; too emotional. Besides, do you really believe he would support us in bringing back the old ways?'

  'I suppose not. He will try this again.'

  Fern hung his head, nodding. 'The problem is that the men are idle. I can't blame them for wanting to be back with their hearths.'

  Light swelled in Carnelian's mind as he saw the valley in the mountains. He crushed the vision and peered into the night. 'And then there's the danger from the sartlar.'

  'We could cut the ladder to their caves.'

  Carnelian shook his head. 'I won't starve them.'

  'We could keep watch every night.'

  'We didn't even manage to stay awake.'

  They hung their heads. Something occurred to Carnelian. He looked up. 'Perhaps we could knot our two problems into a solution. Let's fortify the camp.'

  Fern considered this. 'What reason would we give them?'

  They fear the Marula, don't they?'

  Fern nodded. 'And we Plainsmen feel exposed without our ditches. It might work.'

  Carnelian slapped Fern on the back. 'We'll make it work.'

  Fern's grin appeared in the starlight. 'Now, let's see if this time we can manage to stay awake.'

  Grumbling, the Plainsmen set to fortifying their camp on the knoll. Carnelian joined them digging the dry earth in the cool of the morning. Fern and he had mapped where the ditch would run around the crown from baobab to baobab. They were using the trees as towers in the inner rampart. The impenetrable meshes of their roots forced them to sweep the ditch out in front of each monster.

  For days they laboured, spending the hottest part of each in the shade. Weariness staunched the flow of complaints until they dried up altogether. The homely familiarity of the work made the men happier: the developing fortifications helped them feel secure. At night, exhausted, everyone slumped groaning around their fires and their talk was of their women, their little ones. Fern congratulated Carnelian on their stratagem with a smile.

  'We've drunk the tree caches dry,' announced Fern.

  Carnelian shrugged. 'We'll just have to make up a drag-cradle to take skins to the river.'

  'You know how terrified the men are of going anywhere near the impaled man.'

  A fearful superstition had grown up among the Plainsmen concerning the idol, the path it guarded and the island. Especially the island. Carnelian had seen how they refused even to look at it, as if whatever lived there might enter into a man through his eyes.

  'Well, you and I will have to go.'

  Carnelian saw Fern's fear. 'You too? I'll just have to go alone.'

  Fern scowled. 'I never said I wouldn't go.'

  They hitched a drag-cradle to the crossbeam of Carnelian's aquar, then loaded it with waterskins. Carnelian could not help laughing at the pile. 'Do we have to get all the water we'll ever need in one go?'

  When enough waterskins had been removed, Carnelian moved up to the aquar's head and Fern moved round to the other side. Carnelian regarded the men. 'Anyone else want to come with us?'

  Krow stood forward. 'I will.'

  Carnelian nodded his approval and then the three of them led the aquar down the knoll towards the idol and the riverpath. When they reached level ground, Krow gazed up at the sky.

  The time is drawing near when we must return if we are to give the Tribe protection.'

  Carnelian saw the sky was grey with heat. Turning he surveyed the escarpment, studded with baobabs all the way up to the plain of the Earthsky. He turned back.

  'Have faith. The Master will not forget the need of the Tribe. He'll return in time.'

  Krow grimaced. Though I believe it, there are an increasing number who don't.'

  Fern and Carnelian looked at each other, then thanked Krow for the warning.

  The aquar shied away from the impaled man, but keeping a wary eye on the idol they managed to coax her onto the riverpath. Some distance along it, they found a track leading down to the river. Carnel
ian elected to fill the skins, passing them back to Fern, who passed them to Krow, who stowed them on the drag-cradle. As he worked, Carnelian was aware of the Isle of Flies brooding across the river. When he had filled the last skin, he stood for a moment gazing at the island, wondering if what had befallen the Oracles there was what gave it an aura of menace. Then he turned his back on it and climbed to join the others. He nestled the skin among the rest on the drag-cradle and they returned to the knoll.

  During one of their water-fetching expeditions, while filling a skin from the river, Carnelian was letting his eyes rove over the dark forbidding mass of the Isle of Flies.

  'You're always looking at it,' Fern complained.

  'Aren't you curious about it at all?'

  Fern shrugged and Carnelian saw his friend's reluctance even to glimpse the black island.

  'Shall we go there and see for ourselves what horror it hides?'

  Fern looked at him aghast.

  Carnelian lifted the skin from the water and sealed it. 'I don't believe in Morunasa's god. I think that banyan conceals a shrine, a wooden temple, but there's only one way to find out. We need only go close enough to peer through its outer trunks.'

  Fern's pained expression irritated Carnelian.

  ‘I’ll go alone.' He leaned the waterskin against a boulder and clambered along the shore looking for a crossing. He turned when he heard the scrabbling of Fern following him. They regarded each other.

  Fern frowned. 'I'm coming with you just to make sure you don't feel tempted to go further in than the edge.'

  Carnelian was glad of Fern's company. Together they resumed the search for the route Morunasa and Osidian had taken across. Where the water swirled, the stream seemed spun from pure light; where it pooled, its mirrors cast the sun directly into their eyes.

  When Carnelian was sure they had found the way, he glanced round. 'I'm glad you're coming with me, Fern.'

  Squinting at the island a darkness of doubt descended, but before it could claim him, Carnelian clambered down the bank. He slipped into a slide that tore gritty dust into clouds. Half-choking, half-laughing, he managed to regain his balance only to be knocked forward as Fern careered into him. Carnelian spun, grabbed hold of him, and together they tumbled down the slope and crashed splashing into a pool.