The Standing Dead sdotc-2

by Ricardo Pinto

  He looked around with distaste. 'It might be possible for you to undo what I have done. When I'm gone, the Plainsmen will obey you. With care and skill, you might be able to coax them back into their old ways. Listen carefully. The hostage children the Ochre hold, you must send back to their tribes. Some might try to continue the great hunts as I have taught them but these will quickly show themselves to be unsustainable. The heaveners near enough to the killing fields will soon be exhausted. The lesser saurians would have to be herded in such numbers that the procedure will be uncontrollable with a single tribe's resources. Hunger would soon make the barbarians revert to their traditional hunts. With the re-adoption of their ancient ways, the old would regain their ascendancy.'

  'And the Commonwealth?'

  'Give my body to the Wise. They'll not care about you once they have proof that I am dead.' Osidian shrugged. 'No doubt they'll make reprisals throughout the Earthsky but these will be measured; the Wise will not wish to damage the Plainsmen's breeding populations.'

  'What about the saltcaves? The Plainsmen will not forget them and having this source of salt here, they're unlikely to want to serve in the legions.'

  'Cut down the anchor baobabs. There are no other suitable replacement trees and the landslide has ensured that other anchor points cannot be built with the primitive skills the Plainsmen or the Marula have at their disposal.'

  Carnelian frowned. This will destroy the Oracles and the Lower Reach Marula.'

  'You are free to dream up another way to save your precious Plainsmen.'

  Carnelian would search for other possibilities but was not confident he would find any. He was sure the sartlar would cut down the anchor baobabs at his command. He wondered what would happen to Kor and her people. A thought occurred to him.

  'Neither the Oracles nor the Marula will allow this to be done.'

  'Show the Marula the Ladder intact and they'll flee back to their lands below. I've made sure their commanders fell in battle. Without me, they are a rabble in a foreign land; a land they fear.' He smiled coldly. 'As for the Oracles, without me, they will be too weak to oppose you.'

  'And if you do not die?'

  Osidian looked away to where a copper sun hung molten in the sky. 'You had better hope I do. If I do not it will be because I shall be possessed by the God and then I will finish what I have begun.'

  Carnelian saw how weary, how fragile Osidian appeared, but he was not feeling tender. 'I could kill you now.'

  Osidian chuckled opening his arms wide. 'Do it. I would welcome the release from the canker of doubt that eats at me.'

  Seeing in Osidian that which he had once loved, Carnelian turned away, melancholic as he watched the sun layering the sky with crimson.

  Carnelian awoke in a red dawn and saw Osidian was already up. They made their way back to the knoll in silence. Before they reached it, Osidian veered towards the Marula camp around the Ladder baobabs. The black men rose, staring as the two Masters walked among them. Looking over the edge, Carnelian and Osidian saw that the Ladder had been brought more than half of the way up from the chasm floor. Osidian announced himself satisfied and they turned to face the Thunderfalls. The Isle of Flies lay sombre in the morning light. As they walked along the chasm edge towards it, Carnelian saw Morunasa and some other Oracles were waiting beneath the impaling post. He had no wish to go any further and took his leave of Osidian.

  'Remember: the twelfth day,' Osidian said, in Quya.

  Carnelian nodded. Osidian gazed at Morunasa and the Oracles as if they were his executioners. As Carnelian watched him walk towards them, he wondered if he would ever see him alive again.

  Carnelian found Fern in the camp. As he had climbed the knoll, his heart had told him that his friend could not possibly have gone over to Osidian, but seeing him there before him, all Carnelian could see was his painted face.

  'How did he force you to do that?' he said.

  Fern frowned. 'All the commanders wear ash as a symbol of the Master to show they act in his name.'

  'So he pressured you to lead one of his armies?'

  'It was I who asked for a command.'

  Carnelian shook his head, feeling bleak, empty. 'I would never have believed…'

  Fern narrowed his eyes. 'What, Master, what would you never have believed? 1

  There was still a part of Carnelian that refused to accept that Fern would betray the Plainsmen; betray their friendship. 'You are collaborating with him.'

  Fern's eyes flamed. 'Is that what you think?'

  Seeing Fern's anger, Carnelian became confused.

  Fern leaned forward baring his teeth. 'Did it never occur to you that I became a commander to protect my people? What has our resistance to the Master achieved? By joining him, I have at least some chance of softening the effects of his conquests.'

  Carnelian saw the truth of it and was ashamed.

  Fern's lip curled. 'Who are you to accuse me when, after everything he has done, you chose to spend the night with him?'

  Carnelian was outraged. His pride spoke: 'What business is that of yours?'

  They glared at each other. Carnelian could not find a way out of his anger. Fearing what he might say next, Carnelian desired only to end their meeting. The Master has gone to the Isle of Flies. While he is gone, I am to rule in his place.'

  'What then are your commands, Master?'

  Carnelian cast around for some instruction. 'Just make sure that you keep order here in the camp.'

  Fern's curt nod and his 'You shall be obeyed, Master' made Carnelian wince. Turning, he walked away.

  That night, Carnelian took Poppy with him when he went to look for Fern's fire to apologize. When they found Fern, his cold greeting left Carnelian unwilling to speak. At least Fern had washed his face. A growl made them both turn to see Poppy scowling, her hands on her hips.

  'You're both behaving like children.'

  Carnelian and Fern stared at her, startled. They looked at each other. Carnelian tried a smile. 'I should have trusted you.'

  Fern looked pained. 'And I had no right to -'

  'We just talked,' Carnelian said, quickly.

  'Hug each other,' Poppy commanded.

  Awkwardly, grinning, they obeyed her. As they released each other, Carnelian felt embarrassed by the look in Fern's eyes. 'Aren't you going to offer us some food?'

  Fern became flustered and Carnelian and Poppy exchanged a secret smile. She threw herself at the Plainsman so that he was forced to catch her. She buried her face in his neck.

  A scent of roasting fernroot rose from the fire.

  'Where's Ravan?' Poppy asked.

  Carnelian had forgotten about him. 'He's not here?'

  Fern looked grim. 'He remained in the Koppie.'

  Carnelian raised his eyebrows. 'Have things grown worse between him and the Master?'

  Fern grew angry. 'It's not my brother's fault. At every opportunity, the Master humiliates him. Time and time again he has passed him over to give others a command. When I dared to intervene, the Master told me, curtly, that he needed my brother as an interpreter. I offered myself in that capacity but he turned me down, not that he needs one, so many of the army speak Vulgate. It's as if he is deliberately trying to grind him down.'

  Carnelian gave Fern a suggestive look. Fern shook his head. 'I'd swear they've not been lovers for a long time.'

  'You can tell?'

  Fern looked Carnelian deep in the eyes, nodding. 'I can tell.'

  Carnelian looked away. Another motive occurred to Carnelian that made him go cold. 'Was it Ravan himself who chose to return to the Koppie?'

  'Can you blame him?'

  'But the Master let him go?'

  Fern's nod confirmed Carnelian's fear. He tried to conceal what he was feeling but saw how worried both of them had become.

  'What is it?' Poppy asked, her eyes very round. Carnelian shook his head. 'Nothing,' he said, then busied himself with fishing a cooked root from the flames.

  As the days passed
no news came across the water from the Isle of Flies. Carnelian's dreams were haunted by his imaginings of what was being done to Osidian there. The conviction grew in him that Osidian was already dead. He became increasingly desperate to complete work on the Ladder and drove the sartlar harder than he had ever done before. He had told Fern everything and, in the time they spent together, they planned what they would do once Carnelian stood in Osidian's place.

  One day, a pygmy appeared in the camp. It was Fern who brought him to Carnelian. The little man cowered then fell prostrate at his feet. Fern stooped to lift him but stayed his hand. The pygmy's back was smeared with blood. Crouching, then leaning closer, Carnelian saw disfiguring scars. He called for some water and, himself, carefully washed the brown skin as the little man shook with pain and fear. Carnelian sat back.

  'What are you seeing?' Fern asked, his face screwed up in horror.

  This man is a messenger sent to tell us the Master still lives.'

  Fern frowned. 'But the pygmy has said nothing.' Carnelian pointed. 'It is these marks that speak.' Quyan glyphs cut into the little man's back read: 'My Father speaks to me.'

  The next day, Fern found Carnelian with the sartlar. The Ladder cables had finally reached the edge of the chasm and Carnelian was overseeing their attachment to the anchor trees.

  'I must speak to you,' Fern said.

  'Not now.'

  'A messenger's come from the Earthsky with news.'

  Carnelian turned, exasperated, but his heart almost stopped when he saw how pale Fern looked. He told Kor to take over and led Fern away from the trees.

  'What's happened?' Carnelian demanded.

  The Tribe have risen against the Master.'

  Carnelian grabbed Fern. 'Has this news been sent across to the Isle of Flies?'

  'Who would dare?'

  Carnelian clasped his head in despair. 'You knew, didn't you?' said Fern. 'I feared it.'

  'How…?' Fern's face drained of blood. 'Ravan,' he breathed.

  Carnelian's hands dropped to his side and he nodded heavily.

  Fern's eyes widened with realization. The Master did it on purpose. The bastard did it on purpose. But why?'

  The Ochre have witnessed his humiliation.' Carnelian massaged his forehead, thinking furiously.

  'You can do what you want, Carnie, but I'm going home immediately.'

  Carnelian stared at him in fear. 'And do what?'

  Fern swung his head as if in pain. 'I don't know: stop it; perhaps raise the other tribes to join the revolt.'

  'How hated have we become among the other tribes?'

  'We killed their men; we took their children.'

  Carnelian saw how hopeless it was. The Tribe has fallen into the Master's trap. Having removed themselves from his protection, there is nothing to stop the other tribes taking their revenge. Only the Master can save them now.'

  'And if he chooses not to?'

  Then I will fight with you against him.'

  They looked at each other grimly.

  'Will you wait for me, Fern?' 'Where are you going?'

  For answer, Carnelian looked off towards the Isle of Flies.

  THE DARKNESS UNDER THE TREES

  The sacrifice our Lord likes best is the flesh of living men.

  (Manila precept)

  This is madness,' said Fern as he watched Carnelian pace back and forth along the riverpath. 'Once the Oracles have you both on their island, what's to stop them killing you?'

  Carnelian halted and glared at his friend. 'Only the Master could have carved that obscene message into the pygmy's back and he wouldn't have sent it if he were a prisoner of the Oracles.'

  'So you've said, but is that enough to risk your life on?'

  A movement drew their eyes across the angry river to where a boat, appearing from the Isle of Flies, was snatched then carried swiftly in the flow. In the stern the hunched figure of an Oracle was working an oar that projected behind the boat.

  The river's going to take him over the falls,' said Fern, staring.

  Carnelian shook his head, i don't believe an Oracle would make such a mistake.'

  Though he-had been losing hope of finding a way across, now that he saw a boat coming for him Carnelian gazed with dread at the brooding mass of the banyan. He could feel the pressure of blood in his ears as he faced the real consequences of his choice. He fought a desire to flee.

  Nearing the bank, the boat was being carried rapidly downstream. Carnelian and Fern strode back along the riverpath keeping parallel with it. Wrapped in his indigo robes, the Oracle was rowing the oar back and forth with furious speed. Carnelian wondered at the man's strength. As the boat knifed into the bank, the current snatched at its stern and swung it round. Carnelian scrambled down to help, hearing Fern cursing behind him, and was relieved when he sensed him following. The Oracle slipped over the stern into the water, spread his arms and grasped the gunwale, then began to drag the boat up out of the river. Gripping the prow, Carnelian helped. The Oracle looked up and Carnelian was able to see his face.

  'Morunasa,' he gasped, letting go of the boat so that it lurched into the Maruli, making him stagger and almost fall into the river. Morunasa glowered at Carnelian, who took hold of the prow again and heaved.

  'Why are you here, Master?' asked Morunasa, leaning on the boat now safe from the rush of the river.

  'I have news for the Master.'

  Morunasa's amber eyes did not blink.

  'I can tell it to no one but the Master,' Carnelian said, at last.

  'He lies in the heart of the Isle of Flies dreaming.' 'Will you take me to him?'

  Though Morunasa's face registered no surprise, Carnelian sensed it. The man looked away, thinking. Several times Carnelian saw Morunasa turn back just enough to catch him in the corner of his eye. When he turned fully back, he showed his ravener teeth.

  'It might cost you more than a little blood.'

  Carnelian knew that he was putting himself into Morunasa's power, but he had made his choice and would not give in to fear.

  'I'll pay the price.'

  Morunasa regarded Carnelian as if he were some choice morsel. 'Very well. Help me with the boat. We must pull it upstream.'

  Carnelian looked round to find Fern regarding him with undisguised misery. They nodded at each other in confirmation of the bargain Carnelian had made Fern agree to. If he were not to return from the island, Fern would destroy the anchor baobabs before taking Poppy and the other Ochre back to the Koppie.

  Carnelian and Fern helped Morunasa drag the boat upstream. When the Maruli judged they had gone far enough, they pushed the boat back into the water and Morunasa held it while Carnelian climbed in. His weight made the boat pull into the stream. He saw Morunasa's hands loose their grip. Carnelian looked into the man's eyes and, for a moment, believed he was considering letting the boat go, perhaps calculating that, by the time Carnelian should reach the oar, it would be too late to stop the boat flying over the falls. If those were truly Morunasa's thoughts, he dismissed them, clambered aboard, then took hold of the oar.

  Free of the bank, the boat swung into the deeper, faster flow. Morunasa hung his weight upon the oar and they carved a bucking course through twisting, leaping water. Carnelian held on desperately as they were rocked violently, all the while watching the frantic weave of the river tearing towards them. Inclining his head to the right, he saw the shore of the island looming. Craning further round, he saw, terrifyingly close, the livid thresh where the river poured into the chasm. Snapping his head round, he fixed his gaze upon Morunasa, whose lower jaw was pulled to one side by the meshing of his sharpened teeth.

  With a grinding shudder, the boat impaled the shore's nest of bones. Small hands appeared along the gunwale and Carnelian saw that pygmies were pulling the boat up in among the great black roots of the banyan. Carnelian vaulted out into the shallows and helped the little men pull the boat out of the water. Letting go, he turned to gaze upon the tree. Its trunks lifted their pillars into a high
canopy. Tendrils falling from this had been woven into screens of tortuous complexity through which he could just make out the gloomy cavernous spaces beyond.

  Morunasa appeared beside him and beckoned him to follow. The Oracle took him along the shore to where the roar of the falls was emanating from floating clouds of vapour. Entering these, they were instantly drenched. It was hard to see. Carnelian could feel the endless detonation of the falls through the rocks upon which he walked. The roar was becoming unbearable when it began to soften and the mist to thin. A brightening vision of the world drew him until he was gazing down into the chasm in whose depths the river ran glinting away into blue distance.

  Carnelian became aware Morunasa was standing near him. Looking round, he saw the Maruli open his mouth to speak and so leaned closer.

  'From here since ancient times we've ruled the Blackwater almost to the sea.'

  Morunasa gazed out as if he beheld it all. His face bore an expression Carnelian recognized.

  'You have a Master's heart,' he cried.

  Morunasa turned to pierce Carnelian with his eyes. 'My heart is the Darkness-under-the-Trees.' He extended his arm and curled his fingers into a fist. That darkness has taken possession of your friend.'

  Carnelian felt the gesture lacked conviction.

  Examining Morunasa more acutely, he saw how thin was his arrogance.

  'What's happened?' Carnelian demanded.

  Morunasa narrowed his eyes. He considered saying something but then his breath exploded. Taaagh!' He flung his hand up as if he were tearing off a mask and his face was revealed twisted with anger and fear.

  'Do you dare set eyes upon the Darkness-under-the-Trees?'

  'If the Master is there.'

  'Oh, he is there.'

  Without another word, Morunasa walked towards the grove and was swallowed into its gloom. Cursing under his breath, Carnelian followed him.

  As Carnelian crept in under the first branches, they snuffed out the sunlight. His hackles rose as he became aware of the gloom not just as an absence of light but a thing in itself.

  'You must give of your blood,' said Morunasa.