The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (113 page)

'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 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.

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.'