The Standing Dead - Stone Dance of the Chameleon 02 (77 page)

Carnelian
was
the
first
to
spot
them
marching
across
the lagoon
bed.
He
rose
onto
shaky
legs
and
the
rest
of
his men
followed
his
lead.
The
Bluedancing
were
advancing towards
them
in
a
rabble.

They
can't
have
seen
us
yet,'
Fern
said
in
a
low
voice, as
if
he
feared
they
might
hear
him.

Carnelian
nodded,
wishing
the
rain
was
not
slanting into
his
eyes.
He
turned
to
survey
his
men
and
his
heart faltered,
seeing
how
few
they
were.
He
forced
a
grin.

The
Tribe
will
sing
with
pride
of
this
day.'

Some
answered
him
with
watery
smiles,
others
stared unblinking
at
the
approaching
enemy.

Faint
cries
confirmed
the
Bluedancing
had
seen
them. Their
front
widened,
then
broke
into
a
charge.

'Make
ready!'
Carnelian
cried.

They
locked
their
makeshift
shields
together
as
best they
could
and
thrust
their
spears
over
the
top,
holding them
in
their
fists,
leaning
their
hafts
on
their
shoulders as
Carnelian
had
shown
them.
The
spear
points
made their
front
a
hedge
of
thorns,
but
Carnelian
still
felt desperately
exposed
on
his
unshielded
right.

As
the
Bluedancing
crashed
towards
them,
Carnelian scoured
the
vast
grey
spaces
of
the
plain
but
Osidian
was nowhere
to
be
seen.
Fear
of
abandonment
and
death
rose up
into
his
throat.
He
slowed
his
breath,
focused
his
mind on
the
play
of
rain
on
his
skin.
His
was
the
command;
his the
heart
that
must
strengthen
them.
He
denied
his
fear its
hold
on
him,
then
reached
round
to
take
Fern's shoulder.

The
Master
will
not
fail
us,'
he
said.
'Pass
it
on.'

Fern
smiled
grimly
and
sent
the
message
along
the hornwall.
Carnelian
saw
how
they
gripped
their
spears more
tightl
y.
He
locked
eyes
with
Fern
and
they
smiled fiercely
at
each
other.
When
Carnelian
looked
out
across the
lagoon
bed
he
saw
rolling
towards
them
a
storm
of threshing
mud
that
far
out-flanked
their
hornwall
on either
side.
The
blackened
faces
of
the
Bluedancing
were holed
by
the
red
of
their
screaming
mouths.
Their
hair flickered
black
haloes
round
their
heads.
Their
ululating warcries
were
swelling
louder.
The
percussion
of
clawed aquar
feet
set
the
ground
trembling,
flinging
earth
up
in all
directions.

Around
Carnelian
the
spear
hedge
bristl
ed.
The
odour of
their
attackers
washed
over
him.
He
felt
more
than
saw the
hornwall
around
him
softening.
He
felt
the
Ochre
on the
verge
of
running
from
the
screaming
tidal
wave rushing
at
them.

'Steady,'
cried
Carnelian
in
a
long-drawn-out
tone. Then,
almost
as
if
he
had
commanded
it,
the
charge
broke before
them.
Osidian
had
seen
that
marshy
ground
had formed
a
trough
along
that
part
of
the
shore.
Aquar screamed
as
their
legs
buckled
and
they
tumbled
forward. The
whole
front
shivered
and
broke
and
his
vision
was filled
with
the
twisting
necks
of
aquar,
eye-quills
flaring like
hands
to
stop
their
fall,
the
looks
of
dismay
as
their riders
were
sucked
down
into
the
collapse.
In
front
of Carnelian,
an
aquar
twisted,
falling
before
the
feet
of another
who
tried
to
leap
it,
failed,
and
the
two
became entangled,
rolling
in
a
turmoil
of
thrashing
legs,
saurian screeching
and
then
the
death
cries
of
their
riders
as
they were
folded
into
the
mangling,
threshing
mass.

Some
of
the
riders
made
it
through
the
soft
ground
to crash
their
aquar
into
the
Ochre's
wavering
front.
The spears
of
the
hornwall
impaled
one
beast:
others
waded in,
snake
necks
writhing
with
splayed
plumes.
The
air was
filled
with
a
splintering
of
spears.
In
a
nest
of
these
a blue-painted
man
fallen
from
his
saddle-chair
was thrashing
around
him
with
a
stone
axe,
but
was
quickly cut
down
by
a
dozen,
fevered
blows.
Another
man
was hurled
forward
as
his
aquar
fell.
He
struck
the
shieldwall like
a
boulder,
rolling
right
through
their
ranks
where
he was
set
upon
and
butchered.

Carnelian
bellowed
at
his
men
that
they
must
heal
the breaches
in
the
hornwall.
In
the
comer
of
his
eye
he
was aware
of
Bluedancing
rising
from
the
wreckage
of
their charge.
They
threw
back
their
hair
and
snarled.
Still
they far
out-numbered
the
Ochre.
Avoiding
the
death-kicks
of the
aquar,
they
came
on
at
a
lope
in
twos
and
threes. Some
who
had
lost
their
weapons
tore
shards
of
splintered wood
from
the
saddle-chairs
that
were
sinking
into
the soft
mud.
Those
who
had
to
clamber
over
the
debris
to
get at
the
Ochre
hissed
curdling
promises
of
what
they
would do
when
they
reached
them.
They
fell
upon
the
hornwall clawing,
shrieking,
tearing
at
the
wicker
with
bladed stone,
with
their
hands.
One
man
came
at
Carnelian
from his
exposed
side
so
that
he
was
forced
to
abandon
his spear.
The
man
swung
a
blade
that
Carnelian
heard singing
through
the
air.
Though
he
ducked,
it
still
scraped along
his
skull.
He
swung
his
own
axe
up
and
buried
it beneath
the
man's
ribs.
Frantic,
he
worked
it
free,
aware more
Bluedancing
were
pushing
into
the
hedge,
heaving against
the
wicker
shieldwall
seemingly
oblivious
to
the spears
snapping
off
in
their
flesh.
Blood
arced
through the
air.
Enraged
Bluedancing
chopped
at
them
like demons.