The sacrifice our Lord likes best is the flesh of living men.
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.
Carnelian remembered how the first time Osidian had returned he had a wound on his wrist.
Morunasa pointed back to the light. 'Shall we return?'
Carnelian knew he had no choice. 'Have you a knife?'
Morunasa grinned, then, quick as thought, grabbed Carnelian's arm and sank his teeth into the wrist. Carnelian jerked his arm back. It was too dark to see the wound clearly. Morunasa urged him to sprinkle blood onto the ground and, resentfully, Carnelian did so, then plucked some leaves to staunch the flow.
The Maruli led him through a series of caverns separated by pillars, between which hung webs of infernal design woven from the roots hanging from every branch. High above, the sky was a scattering of stars peeping through a leafy firmament. The glooms reverberated with the thunder of the falls. A sweet, decaying smell clogged Carnelian's nostrils. The ground beneath his feet squelched and sucked with each step. Disgusted, he stooped to peer and saw he was walking on a carpet of rotting red figs. Morunasa had turned to wait for him, his face transformed by an expression of ecstasy. The air around him hazed as if with smoke. As Carnelian walked to meet him, he became aware of another sound which, masked by the rumble of the falls, was almost an itch in his ear. A thousand snagging tears, as if the fabric of space around him was being sliced apart. The air was thick with flies. His steps faltered and at that moment a stench wafted over him. His heart gave way and he almost cried out, except he feared to open his mouth lest he choke on flies. Close to retching, he became aware of Morunasa looming close, grinning his ravener teeth, his eyes glowing.
The God can taste your fear, he drinks it like a draught of still-warm blood.'
Carnelian glanced round and saw against the loopholes of distant daylight how dense was the swirling of the flies.
'You wish to return,' sneered Morunasa.
Carnelian shook his head, not daring to close his eyes for fear he might never be brave enough to reopen them. He waved Morunasa on.
Deeper into the banyan they went and, with each step, the stench grew. The flies became so numerous he could feel their hail against his skin. To survive the nightmare, Carnelian withdrew inside, tried to dull his senses.
They came into a region where the root tapestries had something at their centres. Squinting, Carnelian saw these were the bodies of Plainsmen, their sallow flesh striped with lacerations. He doubled up and his hands fell into the mush of figs as his body convulsed and pumped out vomit. He stumbled away in horror as he saw the matter turning black with flies.
He rose, trying to rub his hands clean down his robe, staggering as he turned, seeing men hanging everywhere. Morunasa loomed close.
'Why do you hang up the dead?' Carnelian gasped.
The Maruli seemed amused. 'What makes you think they are dead? Our Lord prefers to sup on living flesh.'
Morunasa's head fell back and he closed his eyes, in ecstasy and pain. 'Even now he feeds.'
Carnelian would not allow himself to understand.
Morunasa lowered his chin and gazed at Carnelian. 'Where do you imagine these flies come from?'
The Maruli's lips curled with disgust. 'Does your pathetic weakness stop you feeling the glory here? The majesty?' He pointed up at one of the men. 'From death comes life. It is the deepest sacrament.'
Carnelian felt the bile rise again. His eyes welled tears and as fast as he could brush the flies away, they settled onto his sweaty skin, itching his mouth and eyes, trying to find a crevice to lay their eggs.
'Is he here?' he hissed through his teeth.
'Very close, Master. Very close.' Morunasa pulled Carnelian upright and forced him to take several steps, before, enraged, Carnelian threw him off.
'Move, Maruli, take me to the heart of this filthy place.'
Morunasa smiled again. 'You'll find the Master does not share your sacrilegious opinion of our sacred tree.'
'Move on.'
Morunasa began to move away. Carnelian followed, desperately trying to inure himself against the assaults of touch and smell. However much he squinted, he was aware of the hanging men twitching as maggots feasted on their flesh.
The density of flies deepened the murk. Each step mulched the figs up to his ankles. The trunks grew in girth, their roots narrowing the way with their arches. At last they reached a trunk so immense it might have been the night sky. As Carnelian followed Morunasa round this, he saw that it rose from the swamp of figs upon innumerable roots. Along these lay Oracles, their nakedness revealing the swirling mandalas of their tattoos; their chins jerked back as if they were in the process of being impaled.
A white body came in sight around which Oracles were kneeling.
'He has the pallor of the maggots and like them even bears upon his forehead the seal of our Lord,' whispered Morunasa.
Carnelian crept over the bole of a root to reach Osidian. He came close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest. Wounds cut into the pale, clammy flesh mimicked his mouth, which gaped in a silent scream. Trembling, Carnelian reached over one of the kneeling Oracles to touch an unblemished portion of skin. His hand recoiled as Osidian came awake with a madman's stare. The red eyes found him, but showed no recognition.
This is the Isle of the Dead, of which the Labyrinth is only an imitation. I have fed myself to the God alive and now he speaks to me.'
Carnelian's eyes were drawn to the inflamed, weeping lips of Osidian's wounds. Osidian's gaze wandered as he twitched a frown. He released a sigh of words; 'Can you not hear him?'
Carnelian listened with dread. He could hear nothing but the buzzing of flies and, as if from some subterranean world, the deep pulsating thunder of the falls.
Osidian chuckled showing yellowed teeth. 'I feel him in me. He does not give without taking.'
Carnelian leaned close, horrified. 'You have allowed them to put maggots into you?'
Osidian caught Carnelian's hand in a gouging grip. The pain is not unbearable.' The veined orbs of his eyes swivelled to take in the other dreamers. They bear it. They carry him always in their bodies so that they can hear the Lord when he speaks.'
As Carnelian tore free, Osidian settled back closing his eyes, his lips pulled into a pale, rictus grin. 'His voice is so… beautiful…'
There was furtive movement beneath Osidian's skin. He seemed so much a corpse, it was a shock to see sight in the dulled green eyes.
'Why are you here?' Osidian said.
Carnelian stared, nauseous, desperate to flee. He was in a world of death far from the living. He shrank away from Osidian's fingers.
'Why?'
Carnelian remembered why he had come. The Ochre are in revolt.'
Osidian smiled. 'So soon.'
That smile made Carnelian terrified for Fern, Poppy and the Tribe. He drew strength from his love for them. 'It is part of your design?'
'I am merely the instrument of the Lord's will.'
'Don't hide behind that!' he said using anger as a shield. 'It is your lust for vengeance that drives you.'
Osidian was still smiling. 'How could you hope to understand?'
Carnelian felt his face twisting in disgust. 'What understanding have you gained by giving in to this obscenity?'
'Even now, I can hear the Lord speaking more easily than I can hear you.' He frowned. 'Perhaps you could try-'
'No!'
As Carnelian lurched forward murderously, the kneeling Oracles rose as a fence around Osidian. Flaccid expressions of pleasure alternated with pain on their faces as they sank back.
'I shall not let them do it to you against your will,' said Osidian.
'Not let them? What power is it you believe you have in this filthy place?'
'I am become an Oracle of the Darkness-under-the-Trees. More, he has spoken secrets to me which prove I am his Son. He has whispered to me proofs which the Oracles cannot deny.'
Carnelian brought his hands up to cover his mouth and nose. 'Morunasa accepts these proofs?'
Osidian smiled and closed his eyes.
'What do you intend to do?'
'I shall walk the black road my father has made for me,' Osidian said without opening his eyes. 'And the Ochre?'
They have laid their eyes and hands upon me.'
Carnelian's head was pounding. His vision swimming. 'I will not allow you to harm them.'
The eyes Osidian opened to look at him, welled concern. Those who stand in my way the Lord will crush.'
'So be it,' Carnelian said, backing away. Morunasa was watching him with a knowing smile. Carnelian could feel his wrist pulsing where it had been bitten.*Show me the way we came.'
The Maruli shook his head slowly and his black face opened into a ravener grin. Carnelian became convinced those teeth had poisoned him. He shoved Morunasa from his path. He staggered past more roots bearing Oracles, infested, dreaming. Peering, he searched for even a glimpse of the living world, but everywhere he looked his vision was blocked by root weavings hung with victims. He cast around but every way seemed the same. Choosing one, he fled. Through the caverns of the banyan he lurched, seeking a chink of daylight he might use as a beacon to guide him out He was desperate to breathe air free of flies. The fig mulch was sucking at his feet.
He broke into a run, dazed, refusing to yield to madness.
Carnelian awoke in the gloom. Flickers of indigo sky showing through the canopy above signalled that it was late. He could not remember falling asleep. The ache from his wrist reached up into his chest. His skin itched. He sprang to his feet gasping in horror, swatting at the flies clothing him. He ran his hands over his body, searching for wounds that might have allowed maggots into his flesh. He was as sticky as if he had been lying in blood. Praying, he peered for a way out, but only shadow showed in any direction. It was a blessing it was so cool the flies were not misting the air, though the ground was alive with them. He wondered with a shudder if he was doomed to perish there, his body food for maggots. The banyan's red figs lay all about him but he would rather have eaten poison. Their smell was on his skin. He had slept in their ooze. Thoughts of the Tribe pierced his desolation. If not for himself, he must live for them. In the distance he could hear the percussive thunder of the falls. 'Of course,' he breathed.
Grimacing, he began striding, with each step sinking into the mouldering, noisome floor, guided by the voice of the falling water.
At last he saw daylight peering in at the edge of the grove. He broke into a jog. Soon he could feel the percussion of the falls through his feet. Coming out onto a cliff edge, he fell to his knees, sucking in air shimmering with the diamond veils the falls were throwing off. The sun was a glorious mass of light made vague by the mist. The Blackwater was all the rest of the world slipping by. With a jolt, he realized the sun was in the east. It was morning. Fighting panic, he rose and ran round the cliff, reaching the prow the island thrust out over the chasm. From there, he gazed over the drop to where the knoll stood crowned with tiny trees amidst the clearing red as a wound. The anchor baobabs seemed flimsy. The Ladder fell as a mere skein into the depths. He searched for signs of life, but saw none. Dread spurred him on. He followed the path he and Morunasa had used the previous day. As he ran past the margins of the banyan he refused to look into its glooms. He pushed on through soaking clouds then alongside the river until, at last, hidden among the roots, he found a boat. Trusting it had been left there ready for a crossing, he pushed it into the rush and vaulted aboard. The violence of the river swept him along and it took him a while to catch the steering oar. Then he leaned against it, feeling the power of the river come shuddering up through the wood so that he lessened the thrust from fear the oar might snap. Gritting his teeth, he gazed out past the prow as the boat veered slowly across the river.
Where the boat struck the bank was not much further than perhaps ten lengths from the maelstrom. Carnelian flung himself out onto the bank and clung to a rock as he saw the boat swing out and begin spinning in the torrent. Shivering with cold, he watched it fold into the white water and disappear.
He hauled himself up onto the riverpath, then stumbled along it, past the impaled man and through the baobabs towards the knoll. As he ran he looked for people. He found a way through the wooden wall and sprinted up the slope. In his bones he knew the place would be deserted. He reached the camp panting. The Manila, the Plainsmen had all disappeared. There was only one place they could have gone.
Carnelian slumped morose near a hearth which was still warm. It had not taken long to determine that all the aquar had been taken too. On foot, he could not hope to reach the Koppie in time. If his bleak self-disgust had allowed it, he would have wept.
A faraway voice crying out his name made him jump to his feet. It called again. 'Carnie.' It was unmistakably Poppy's voice. He strode over the ditch and, seeing her stumbling up towards him, leapt shouting down the slope to meet her. When they met, he snatched her up into his arms.
The Mother be praised,' he cried.
Poppy buried her head against his neck. 'Fern said you were dead, but I just knew you weren't.'
He crouched to put her down. Her grubby face was all smeared with tears.
'Fern?' he asked.
She half-turned in his arms.
Carnelian's fierce delight released tears. 'He's here?'
'He hid me when the Master came last night.'
He stared at her. 'He came himself?'
She nodded.
'Where's Fern?'
Tying up our aquar. Come on.'
Carnelian put her down, then allowed her to tug him down the slope. Fern appeared around a trunk. His relief at seeing Carnelian made him halt staring. Carnelian picked Poppy up again so that they would get to him more quickly. Fern rushed to meet them.
'I thought you dead,' he said.
'I know,' said Carnelian. 'How many aquar do we have?' Fern grimaced. 'I only managed to hide one.' Carnelian clasped his shoulder. 'You did better than I deserve.'
'When the Master appeared unexpectedly in the camp -'
'Morunasa and the other Oracles?' They came carrying him on a litter.' 'He took everyone with him,' said Poppy. Fern stared distraught. 'He's gone to the Koppie, hasn't he?'
Carnelian's bleak look was answer enough.
'Can we stop him?' Fern's voice, his face, his body even, were all a plea.
Carnelian felt empty, exhausted, weighed down. He hoped Poppy did not guess the holocaust that was threatening. 'We must.'
For a moment, his fierceness gave Fern hope and vigour, but then he drooped. 'We've only one aquar.'
'Will she carry three?'
Fern bit his lip. 'Not the whole way.'
'Well, then, we two will have to take turns running alongside.'
Fern thought about it then nodded grimly. 'We'll need food and water.'
'Have they left any?'
'I'm sure I can find something.'
'Good,' said Carnelian. 'Keep Poppy with you.'
'Where are you going?' Fern asked.
To release the sartlar.'
Carnelian summoned Kor in the usual way. When she appeared over the edge of the chasm, he was there waiting for her. He crouched to look her in the face. She regarded him as if he had her in a cage. He had grown accustomed to her fearful ugliness.
'Little mother,' he said. 'I'm going away.'
'Everyone is going away, Master.'
'Can you count up to ten?'
Kor showed him her gnarled fingers.
'If I don't return or send a message within ten days' – he flared his hands and her eyes flickered as if she were being blinded – 'then you must cut down the ladder trees.'
Her face crumpled in a frown. She pointed carefully at first one and then the other of the baobabs anchoring the Ladder.
Those two, but also that one.' He pointed at the salt-caves tree.
She revealed her peg teeth in what might have been a grin or a grimace. The Master wishes to leave the sartlar starving in the caves below?'
Recoiling from the foulness of her breath, he waved his hand in front of him. 'No. No. You must take all your people and flee.'
'Flee where, Master?'
Carnelian visualized the Three Lands laid out before him. The Leper Valleys.'
Her face collapsed into sad impassivity. 'You know where those lie?' 'Far away, Master.'
He had to agree with her. 'I'm sorry, I know of no other place.'
Her chin dug deeper into her chest so that her hair fell to hide her face. 'As the Master commands, so shall it be done.'
Carnelian rose and looked down at the poor creature. She seemed more like an outcrop of the red stone upon which she stood than a living thing. He could think of nothing more to say. Feeling sad, he walked away.
Midday found Carnelian, Fern and Poppy moving through a dry shadowless land thralled by immense baobabs. Fern was riding the aquar with Poppy on his lap, swaddled against the merciless sun. Carnelian jogged along beside them, trying to match the saurian's easy stride; his robe, his uba, plastered to his skin.
When it was his turn to ride and Fern's to run, Carnelian had to stop the aquar often to wait for him. For all his height, Fern did not have a Master's stride.
The baobabs ended abruptly, as if they were defending a border, and they moved into a region which might have been a becalmed sea. It was Poppy who pointed out the thread of smoke wavering in the east. They stopped to squint at it.
‘It's definitely a koppie beacon,' said Fern.
As they rode further they saw more beacons rising in the west and several more even as the sun was dropping to earth. Carnelian had asked what it was that could alarm all these tribes together, but Fern could only shake his head.
'Perhaps all have joined the Ochre in revolt,' said Carnelian.
'If so, to what purpose would they send out such signals of alarm? The Master couldn't possibly be attacking them all at once.'
Filled with foreboding, they pushed on. They made better progress as the sun lost its fire and would have continued on except Fern pointed out that it was getting late. Over Poppy's head, he mouthed the word 'ravener' and, nodding, Carnelian agreed they should camp for the night.
Hastily they gathered enough fernwood to make a fire and were thankful they managed to light it before the sun had vanished from the world. Ravener cries seemed to carry further in the blackness. The stars seemed painfully bright. They ate djada and had several licks of Fern's saltstone. When Poppy asked Carnelian about what he had seen on the Isle of Flies he would only shake his head. They settled down and slept sharing the warmth of their bodies.
When Carnelian awoke he realized he had only dreamed escaping the Isle of Flies. In the darkness he could feel them spitting through the air. Squinting up confused, he saw the stars obscured as if by drifts of smoke. He moaned, desolate. Something clutched him and, crying out, he threw it off.
'Carnie. What's the matter?' Fern shouted over the hissing in the air.
'I told you not to come here,' said Carnelian. Poppy was crying with fear.
Carnelian curled up, not understanding, wanting to scream. The flies,' he said, shakily. The devouring flies.'
Strong hands grabbed hold of him. He was drawn towards a body and could feel a mouth speaking in his ear.
'Sporewind, Carnie. It's just the sporewind. Now lie down and I'll cover you and Poppy. Then I'll go and see to the aquar.'
Carnelian felt around for Poppy and drew her close, and Fern threw a blanket over them.
'It's not flies then, Carnie?' Poppy asked through her tears.
He stroked her hair. The sporewind striking the blanket was like someone throwing sand. 'Not flies,' he muttered. 'Not flies.'
Next morning, the dawn twilight never brightened to day. Wrapped up in blankets, they harnessed the aquar by touch.
'Will she be able to go on?' Carnelian cried.
'We'll go slowly and all ride her,' said Fern.
Being the heaviest, Carnelian sat in the saddle-chair. Fern rigged some ropes between the front and back crossbeams and lay across them on one side, after they had placed Poppy along the other. To make sure she did not slip out, but also to help counter Fern's weight, Carnelian leaned over to hold Poppy in place. When he asked the aquar to rise, she did so. The distribution of weight made her rock a little but with some adjustments, they managed to make it possible for her to walk.
They set off. The air swirled black all around them. It hissed and rattled constantly as it struck them. Mostly it drove like sleet from the east, in which the sun showed the dark ridge of the Backbone. Carnelian guided them towards it and, for the rest of the day, in its lee, they made what headway they could through the sporestorm.
Three more days they struggled on while the sporewind blew relentlessly. It was at night they suffered most. Their backs and limbs ached. Poppy's tears had run dry. Carnelian was plagued by nightmares of the Isle of Flies.
On the morning of the fourth day, the storm began to abate. The sun rose hazy but distinct Some of the sky's blue shone through and gave them hope. It became possible again for one of them to run while the other rode. It eased their ache of worry to pick up the pace.
As the day wore on, it became possible again to see into the far distance. Four separate columns of smoke were eddying in the breeze.
'I know where we are,' Fern said grimly. That smoke is rising from the Tallgreen, the Darkcloud, the Smallochre and the Woading.'
'Not from the Koppie?' asked Poppy.
Fern's eyes when they locked to Carnelian's, were like wounds. 'No, not from the Koppie.'
They crossed the Backbone a little to the south so as to avoid having to pass anywhere near the Darkcloud. Fern's route brought them within sight of the koppie of the Bluedancing. Even from a distance, they could all see the damage Osidian's fire had wrought there. They veered away from that desolate sight, northwards, towards the glistening run of lagoons beyond which lay their home.
Riding while Carnelian ran, Fern guided them through the gap between two lagoons. Bellowers roosted on islands. Earthers were strewn like boulders across the land. When they stopped to make a changeover, Carnelian searched for heaveners but could find none.
Once he was settled with Poppy into the saddle-chair, they pushed on.
Carnelian's heart jumped up into his throat and Poppy let out a squeal of delight when they saw the beloved shape of the Koppie rising up out of the plain. Both he and Fern allowed her chatter to pour over them as they scrutinized their home, nervously.
Carnelian pulled the aquar up. 'Shouldn't they have seen us by now?'
Grimacing, hands on knees as he leaned over panting, Fern nodded, never once taking his eyes off the silhouette.
Carnelian made the aquar kneel and dismounted. 'We might as well both walk.'
They marched on. Sensing their anxiety, Poppy asked: 'What's the matter?'
Carnelian glanced up at her. 'Nothing.'
When they came close enough to see the individual mother trees, Fern steered them towards the Horngate. As they drew nearer they began to smell the rot of blood. The ruins of vast creatures still partially walled with flesh spoke of a recent hunt. It seemed to Carnelian an evil omen.
'Couldn't we use another gate?'
Fern shook his head slowly, unable to free his gaze from the sight.
The fernland before the Newditch was scorched and black. They stopped when they reached the earthbridge and looked over it to the Killing Field. The carcasses were verminous with ravens and sky-saurians. Carnelian looked across at the Eastgarden and saw the drying racks like an abandoned military camp.
'Come on,' said Fern. Carnelian hoisted Poppy up with one arm and followed him.
Even though they pushed their ubas hard against their mouths and noses they could not shut out the overwhelming fetor of the Killing Field. Flies shimmered and rippled in mats over walls of brown mucused flesh that sagged rotting from the struts of bones. The ground was a churn of blood and mud and lumps of fat. They wound their way through towards the fallen Bloodwood Tree lying like a corpse amongst the carnage, its roots hung with entrails.
They found the bridge and won their way over to the Blooding, where they rubbed the filth off their shoes and opened their ubas to suck in the perfume of the easterly breeze. Ahead, the Grove looked as it always did and yet, it lacked something intangible. They could feel something was wrong as they marched up the Blooding.
Over the bridge, the gate had been torn down. They stopped to gaze through under the arching cedars, desperate to see a friendly Ochre face.
'Maybe everyone's gathered below the Ancestor House,' whispered Poppy.
'Maybe,' said Carnelian, exchanging a look of despair with Fern.
Carnelian put Poppy down. 'Will you stay here, Poppy?'
The girl shook her head slowly. Anger welled up in Carnelian but he controlled it. He offered Poppy his hand and, when she took it, he led her across the bridge.
Beneath the canopy of the mother trees rather than the usual sensuous coolness, the air felt cold. Even before Carnelian's eyes had adapted enough for him to see in the gloom, he recognized the smell and snatched Poppy up, crushing her against his chest, forcing her head back over his shoulder. As his sight returned, the branches of the mother trees were revealed hung with horrifying fruit.
Keening, Fern careered, stumbling, up the rootstair, leaving Carnelian panting, gaping, staring round, nauseous as he saw how many people were hanging from the trees. 'Carnie, you're hurting me,' Poppy whined in a tearful panic, but Carnelian could not release his hold on her and could only stare transfixed with horror. Osidian had done this. Carnelian could sense his presence as if he smelled him on the fetid air.
Carnelian became aware of Poppy shrieking, frantic in his arms. He slid her down his body and crushed her face to his chest, then fled back over the bridge into the fern-garden, into the bright clean day. When he had run far enough for the sun to burn the blackness from his eyes, he crouched to let Poppy go. She flew at him, screaming, beating him with her little fists and he gave himself over to her fury, which was nothing compared to the utter dread and desolation that now filled him.
He hardly noticed the blizzard of her blows cease, but he did see the terrified look she gave him and tried to find his voice, tried to comfort her.
'Is it the Master?' she asked, tears and mucus glistening on her cheeks and upper lip.
Carnelian could find no words, nor even thought.
'Where's Fern?' she screamed at him.
Carnelian's mind coalesced around that name. He glanced back at the gape of the gate across the bridge. He coughed his voice back into being. 'Stay, stay.'
Poppy licked her lips and stared at him, unblinking.
'Stay here. Please, stay here,' he begged.
She was shaking her head. 'No. I'm not leaving you.'
Carnelian kneaded his forehead, seeing her twisting in his tears. He rose and glared down at her and his anguish poured out into his voice.
'You'll not move from here until I return.'
His wrath flattened her to the ground among the fresh green ferns. He stooped to lift her.
'Please stay here, Poppy, for me?'
She gave him a tiny nod and he leaned close to kiss her. Soon he was loping back to the earthbridge. He glanced back once to make sure she had not moved and then, hesitating at the gate, he re-entered the darkness beneath the mother trees.
Carnelian crawled up the rootstair towards Akaisha's hearth, his eyes fixed on his feet, clawing at the roots, desperate not to look to either side, too aware of the shapes hanging everywhere, so close to the ground they appeared to be standing.
He moved away from the stair towards Akaisha's hearth. His fingers touched the beloved roots of her mother tree. The stench was too thick to breathe. He felt them round him but dared not look; instead he crept searching with narrowed eyes for Fern. He felt the movement and was drawn to it. Glancing up he saw too much. Faces he knew, melting in death, and Fern moving among them with an expression of wonder as he gazed from one to another. Carnelian saw Akaisha strung up by her uba, her toes brushing the earth. Nausea and grief convulsed him into a spasm of vomiting. He wiped his mouth and scrambled to Fern's side. He took hold of him and was thrown off with a snarl. Fern fixed him with a look of such pure hatred Carnelian was turned to stone. The Plainsman resumed his wandering among the dead. When Carnelian glimpsed Sil's distorted face he fled, mindless.
The scream pouring from his mouth felt as if it was emptying him of flesh. His lungs drank air. He heard the delicate rasping of flies. Three Manila were standing by the Crag. Their fear of him made him ravenous for their blood. They fled and he pursued them. Round the Crag he hunted them and came to where a number of them had gathered their oily, sweating flesh. He advanced and they drew away, chattering their fear. Something pale hung above them like the moon. He discerned its symmetries of bone. A waft of carnage air reminded him of death, of the Isle of Death, of Osidian maggot-pale among the roots of the black banyan. He looked up and saw the Ancestor House: a casket of the slain, its walls as pale as Osidian's face.
Hatred threatened to overwhelm Carnelian. His gaze fell upon one of the Manila, paler than the others in his Oracle's ash, and saw it was Morunasa offering him a spear. Carnelian took it. A way opened to the steps. They seemed steeped in blood. The whole world was red with murder. He was climbing the steps. He reached the porch and moved to stand before the leather curtain. He drew it back with the spear and looked in.
Osidian's pale body made the bone floor upon which it lay look yellow. Carnelian entered, hefting the spear. It bucked in his fist as the curtain slid off it and then the room went black.
'I have come to kill you, Osidian.'
'You cannot,' said Osidian in a sepulchral voice.
Carnelian could see him laid out as if he were a corpse. 'I am going to kill you for this atrocity'
The barbarians were executed because they sinned against the Law-that-must-be-obeyed not once but countless times.'
That is a filthy lie! You murdered them because of your pride and for that I will kill you.' 'You will not.'
The certainty in Osidian's voice cheated Carnelian of strength. He fell to his knees but managed to keep the spearhead questing for Osidian's throat.
'I must kill you,' he whispered.
'If you do, the whole Earthsky will die with me.'
'You have already destroyed the best of it,' said Carnelian, desperate to thrust the spear into the heart of that voice.
'Did you not see the columns of smoke?' Osidian said.
Carnelian groaned, the spear tangling in the words.
They rise from every koppie from here to the very edge of the Guarded Land.'
Sweat ran into Carnelian's eyes, slicking his face so that he could taste salt on his lips but, still, he held the spearpoint to Osidian's throat.
It moved again. 'I saw them as I came north and did not know what they might mean. The old told me, before I hung them from their trees.'
Carnelian clenched and reclenched the spear, fighting cramp in his arm.
It is a signal a thousand years old. It warns the Plainsmen that the Masters have come down from the upper land with dragons. They are coming here burning everything in their path. I alone can stop them.'
'I shall give them your body and they will leave.'
That would not save the Earthsky.'
'You yourself told me it would,' cried Carnelian.
'I told you how you might appease the Wise. It is not they but one of the Great who comes.'
Carnelian laughed mirthlessly. 'Your foul God no doubt has told you this.'
Three days ago I sent scouts into the north. When they returned, they brought with them a rumour. A name. An ancient name that is a terror to the Plainsmen. Hookfork.'
'What are you talking about?' Carnelian hissed through his grinding teeth, drawing back the spear for the strike.
Osidian lifted his hands and shaped a sign like a long stalked lily.
The spear trembled in Carnelian's grip as he spoke the name to whom such heraldry belonged. 'Aurum.'
The name cleared his mind like the pealing of a bell. How could Aurum be coming with a legion when it was forbidden for any of the Great to have such a command? Only the Wise could have given him such terrible power.
Contemplating cruel Aurum having at his whim the terror of the dragons and their flame, Carnelian threw back his head and let forth a cry of anguish that made the bone walls tremble.