The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (20 page)

He turned, feeling their elbows against his back, and stared out in the direction he had come. Where the mist was dissolving, a jade plain was revealed, teeming with saurians wading languidly through the ferns. Some were horned, some flecked or crested with scarlet. Rich golden hides baroqued with dusky reds like old wounds. Many, no bigger than aquar, ran in spurts, but others lumbered thunderously, their necks pushing their heads deep into the sky's blue.

At first Carnelian thought the Plainsmen were shrieking with terror, but glancing to either side he saw their faces were lit with joy. Bright passion gushed from them in ragged song, their eyes brimming with love as they gaped up at the monsters. Among them, Osidian seemed more interested in their reactions than in the saurians.

Carnelian reached over Krow to grab at Fern's shoulder. 'Aren't we in danger?' he cried.

His friend turned, blinking tears from his eyes, struggling to focus on something as tiny as Carnelian. He nodded but quickly turned back, unwilling to forgo the sight of the leviathans.

Carnelian dared to gaze out again. One of the monsters was approaching. Carnelian pushed back against the tree in terror. The reek the creature gave off became the only air there was to breathe. A leg as large as a crag lifted from the ground, hung impossibly in the air, then came down again, punching a tremor into the earth that rattled his teeth. The bows of the creature's chest forged closer, its hide keel rising up to a neck which was leaning a faraway head into the branch-nest of their tree. Carnelian felt the wood shudder as the monster fed.

Fern was laughing with the rest, tears of joy running down his cheeks. Trusting the people round him, Carnelian allowed his fear to abate and began to share in their wonder. His eyes were unable to measure the immensity of the being before him. He became convinced he could feel its massive heart beating the air.

There was a tugging on his shoulder. It was Fern looking sidelong at him.

'A heavener,' the Plainsman breathed. 'Connecting earth and sky. Sacred. I've never seen one so close.' He shook his head in disbelief as he looked back at it. 'Isn't she just
the
most beautiful thing you've ever seen?' Mesmerized, Carnelian could only nod.

The sun grew stifling hot, forcing Carnelian and Osidian to swathe their heads with their ubas for fear of their skin burning. A breeze stirred a swell in the fern meadows, spreading infinite ripples towards the horizon. Across their path there lay the dazzle of a lagoon. The vast blue dome of the sky was marred only by a teasing of cloud. The euphoria of their encounter with the heavener sustained them for a while. Carnelian shared in their laughter and delight but this mood withered as the sun rose ever higher. Flies plagued him.
He grew too weary to consistentl
y lift his feet over the snares of the root-ridged earth and he tripped often. His view of the fernland contracted down to his feet, to his burning throat until at last he caught Fern by the shoulder and demanded some water. Frowning, his friend passed him a skin.

'One mouthful only,' he growled huskily, and when Carnelian protested and pointed out, indignandy, the flashing water that lay in front of them, Fern narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

'We dare not approach open water. The herds cluster along their margins and where they are, raveners will be too. If we are to reach the Twostone alive, we must avoid taking such risks.'

Carnelian looked at him aghast as he lifted the skin, which was less than half full. 'Do you really believe there's enough here to see us through?'

'We'll find caches at which we may refill it.'

Carnelian pushed the waterskin back into Fern's hands and resumed his march through the ferns. However unjustly, he could not help being angry with his friend.

As they made a wide detour around the lagoon, its mirror trembled in the corner of their vision as a throbbing headache. Narrowing his eyes against its glare, Carnetian saw the creeping shimmer at its edge that spoke of the leviathans drinking there. Envy consumed him. Distracted, he caught his foot and crashed to the ground. Carnelian growled at the youths who rushed to help him up, rose by himself nursing another bruise, stumbled on, head bent, grumbling against the heat, the flies, the whole, accursed Earthsky.

As their shadows narrowed away from them, Fern called to Osidian that he thought it better they should make a camp for the night. When Osidian agreed, everyone flopped down. Groaning with relief, Carnelian lay back against the rough fern leaves, feeling the thick stalks bend and snap under his weight. He lay with his eyes closed, listening to his breathing. As this grew more shallow he was able to hear the trilling, the snagging textures of insect flight, the gentle susurration of the breeze among the ferns and a delicate knock, knocking that made him open his eyes and see above him two curling crosier femheads butting against each other. Then he saw the sky's smooth fathomless blue depths and he smiled, contented.

When the Plainsmen began to stir he lifted himself on to one elbow, grunting as his bruises crushed and stretched. He saw how wearily the youths stood and, finding Fern still bent, grinned at him. His friend straightened, grimacing at the pain, and, catching each other's eyes, they both burst into laughter.

'Shall I hunt with you?' Carnelian asked him.

Fern shook his head. The Master wouldn't want us to starve, now would he?'

Carnelian ignited more laughter. Then the Master shall take it upon himself to gather dung to make a fire.'

'That would be kind of him,' said Fern with a grin. He gathered up some youths and they slipped in among the fern stalks, their spear blades the last part of them to vanish.

Carnelian felt Osidian's gaze and, turning, saw in his eyes a green anger. Carnelian felt as if Osidian were accusing him of something but was reluctant to imagine what. When Osidian's fingers strayed up to his rope scar it caused Carnelian to suffer an ache of guilt. He noticed Ravan watching them both with silent fascination. Carnelian turned his back, then chose Krow and a few others to go with him to gather dung.

Carnelian, Krow and the others flattened a clearing among the ferns and with their hands combed the dried matter in towards the centre upon which they built a dung fire. The hunters returned with a single, scrawny saurian.

'We'll just have to make do,' snapped Fern when one of the youths complained.

In the deepening dusk, weariness was turning to bad temper. As the heat of the day faded into a brooding night some quarrelling broke out among the youths, which Fern resolved with surprising patience. Even before they were finished eating, some of the youths had succumbed to sleep.

Each day was the same as the one before. Carnelian lost count of how many had passed since they had come up onto the Earthsky. The success of their evening hunts diminished with their strength. They drank whenever they found a brackish pool trapped between some roots or nestling in the crevice of a tree. Carnelian grew accustomed to his thirst sweetening even the filthiest water. His muscles hardened like drying fruit while weariness seemed to be softening his bones. The faces around him became cadaverous. With the others, he lost the will to speech so that the groans, the mumbling complaints, became the only human sounds he heard.

Each morning Osidian, Ravan and Krow would lead the way and, grumbling, everyone would stumble after them. Carnelian knew well with what growing resentment they followed Osidian because he felt it himself.

'How long shall we have to follow the Master before we accept that he leads us to our deaths?' said Loskai.

Night after night Loskai's complaints had become bolder, but this time there was a rebellious edge to his voice that made Carnelian sit up. All eyes were on Osidian, who sat as he always did, a marble idol, his sight tangled in the brilliance of the fire.

Loskai leapt to his feet and indicated Osidian with his head. 'Can't you see he's already a ravener?' he said in Ochre. 'When we can go no further, who will find us? Who will give us to the sky?'

When Osidian lifted his head to look at Loskai, the Plainsman grew pale. 'What're you babbling about?'

Loskai stared at him slack-mouthed.

Osidian smiled coldly. 'Do you want to lead, barbarian? Well then, I give them to you.' His gaze returned to the fire.

Loskai looked round for support.

Ravan leapt to his feet. 'I'll follow none but the Master.'

Krow joined him.

Fern frowned. 'Would you deny, Loskai, that the Backbone runs unbroken the length of the Earthsky?'

The Plainsman looked blank. Fern sighed. 'Going east we'll come across it eventually.'

'Eventually?' said Loskai snatching at the word as if it might bring him victory.

'If you've a better plan, let's hear it,' Ravan said.

Loskai said nothing.

'Well then, sit down, before you end up sharing Ranegale's fate.'

Loskai's face hardened. Carnelian watched him glance sidelong at Osidian. For some moments the Plainsman stood trapped in the fascinated stares of the youths, before he seated himself clumsily, a murderous light in his eyes.

Carnelian's head bobbed with each step he took. His eyes could see nothing but the endless weave of fernroot across which he was struggling to pick his way. The sun beat down upon his back so that he was breathing the moisture of his own sweat. His whole skin itched. His scar had become so tender he had to keep pulling the uba off it. He was aware of the sour taste in his mouth, his gummed-up eyes, the weakness he had to overcome for each step.

When shouting broke out around him, he looked up blearily, expecting to see a ravener or some other monster wading towards them through the ferns. He could see nothing. He narrowed his eyes to allow himself to concentrate on the shouting. It was fading and had the vibration of running. He looked for and found the disturbance in the ferns that betrayed the youths running headlong. It was then he noticed a ridge of rock rising from the fernland like a tumbled wall. North and south it ran as far as the horizons.

'Praise the Mother,' said Fern near him, in a ragged voice.

Carnelian turned to see his friend fallen to his knees. Tears were glistening down his cheeks as he stared unblinking. Carnelian looked back at the ridge and understood what it was.

Clambering up onto the Backbone, Carnelian took delight in the views it gave into the blue distance, in the cooling breeze, but most of all, in the tearful joy of the Plainsmen.

Fern came scrambling over the rocks towards him. 'We've talked amongst ourselves and even Loskai's had to admit we're not much more than a day's walk from the Twostone.'

Fern gazed over to where Osidian was standing with Ravan and Krow. The Master's sorcery is powerful.'

Carnelian wondered if now Osidian would lose his hold over them. 'Shall we get there today?'

Fern shook his head. 'Night would overtake us if we tried. It'll be better if we make camp here and complete the last leg rested.'

They built their fire up among the smooth black rocks of the Backbone. The Plainsmen were transformed. They moved their thin limbs with vigour. They smiled and laughed. Even their hunting was more successful than it had been for days. The moon rising full and bright seemed an omen of salvation. All the talk was of the delights, the comforts they expected to enjoy the following day once they arrived at the koppie of the Twostone. It was only when they saw Krow, grimly silent, that a shadow passed over their hearts.

Fern sat himself beside the youth. 'I'll talk to your Elders myself. No one'll blame you for Cloud's death.'

Krow gave him a thin smile and Fern put his arm around his shoulders. Loskai was scowling.

'What about our tributaries?' asked Ravan.

'I warrant that we'll find they passed through more than forty days ago,' said Fern and there were grins and nods of agreement.

The Tribe will have given us up for lost,' said one youth.

Frowns all round, uneasy muttering.

That's why we'll not linger more than one night with the Twostone,' said Fern. They'll lend us aquar and, in no more than six days, we'll be home.'

Eyes brightened as the Plainsmen turned again to discussing the festivities the Twostone would be sure to throw to welcome them back from their adventures. Carnelian watched the youths' eyes widening as they realized for the first time that they were now not only just one short day from safety but, in addition, they would be returning as heroes.

'And what about us?' Carnelian asked Fern, quietly.

His friend looked at him, frowning. He angled his head to one side. 'I don't know,' he said at last.

Carnelian thanked him for his honesty. He did not hear the words after that but only the happiness in their voices. Ravan's face was not as bright as the other youths'. Beside him, Osidian looked morose. Carnelian saw how, apart from Ravan, the other Plainsmen were paying Osidian no more attention than they would have a rock. Carnelian could not recall anyone having thanked Osidian for getting them there. After the long nightmare in the wilderness, the Plainsmen had returned to a world they knew. In that world it was the Standing Dead who were powerless.

RAVENER GRIN

And the Skyfather made birds That they might be everywhere his eyes