Eric Brown - Rites of Passage

We strode three abreast. I ensured that I was between Nohma and Kenda.

At one point he said, “So much for all Old Tan’s tales.”

“What do you mean?” I snapped.

“Dwellings, artefacts — and people no longer human? I don’t see any evidence of these, do you?”

I said, “We aren’t there yet. We aren’t where she saw them. When… when we reach the far escarpment,” I panted, “then… then we will see all these things, and more.”

Kenda laughed. “And what about the crabs? The giant crabs that Old Tan said Old Old Old Marla encountered — three times the size of those back at the Valley? Where are they?”

I shook my head. “I’ve no doubt they exist.”

Kenda sneered. “I have every doubt. And the absence of giant crabs makes me doubt everything else Old Tan told us about Old Old Old Marla’s journey, and every other story he told us.”

“There’s no reason to disbelieve–” I began.

“I mean, all his fine words about the world filled with water! Where’s the evidence, Par?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I turned to Nohma. “What do you think?” I asked her.

She stared ahead. “I honestly don’t know, Par,” she said with a tired sigh.

We walked on in silence for an hour. Not for the first time I was thinking how much better the journey would have been without Kenda to spoil things. It would be just Nohma and I, without Kenda’s constant undermining of my certainties. I had no doubt that he didn’t believe half of what he was saying — he was playing the naysayer in order to rile me.

At our backs, the sun whitened the eastern sky and we stopped and scraped a trench in the sand. When it was waist deep we arranged the three shells across the tops like shields and huddled in the welcome shade. I had ensured that the ditch was wide enough to accommodate the three of us with room to spare; I did not want to have Kenda too close to Nohma that day.

We ate a little of our provisions, drank a little water, then settled down to sleep — as the heat increased and the crab shells tinted the light within the trench a nacreous pink.

Kenda was soon snoring, and then Nohma was asleep against my shoulder. I lay awake unable and, I admit, unwilling to sleep: I did not trust Kenda being so close, and anyway my thoughts raced with resentment. I suspected Kenda had suggested this sleeping arrangement — as opposed to our huddling individually under our own shells — in order for him to be close to Nohma. I had seen the glances he had cast at her breasts and buttocks as we walked.

The heat increased, and hours later I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

I was awoken as the sun set on another searing day. The twilight deepened. Kenda was fast asleep, but his left leg was outstretched and he had lodged his foot beneath Nohma’s bottom.

I kicked out, viciously, shifting his legs and waking him instantly.

“What?” he shouted, startled.

“Watch where you’re putting your filthy feet!” I spat.

Instead of arguing, or denying what he had been doing, he merely gave a sly, sidelong leer and said nothing.

Nohma woke and stared from Kenda to me, aware that something had passed between us. I suggested that we quickly eat and be on our way.

I reckoned that we were just two hours from the mountain range — the last one before the escarpment. The night cooled around us as we walked, and I felt a renewed confidence. This was night five of our Initiation, and we were perhaps another night away from Old Old Old Marla’s escarpment.

I said as much to my companions as we walked.

“We’ll be there by day six. That means we can stay a day before we must head back.”

Kenda looked at me. “And our rations? Don’t you realise that we’ve consumed more than half already?”

I shrugged. “So, we’ll have to eat and drink less on the way back.”

“I think we should get to the next range, then see how far ahead the escarpment is. If it’s more than a day away, then we should turn back.”

He was being deliberately provocative. I kept my anger in check and said, “But we know how far away we are — less than a day.”

He gestured ahead. “You don’t know that. You’re guessing. You can’t see the escarpment from here, Par.”

He was right, in that the escarpment was not visible.

“Very well,” I said, “we’ll reach the range and then see how far away the escarpment is. If it’s less than a day, we continue, agreed?”

He nodded. “Fine. But if it’s more than a day away, we turn back. Agreed?”

I acceded, angered by his mocking tone.

I was the first to make out the insubstantial, moon-etched shape that loomed ahead of us. I slowed, excitement building in my chest. The thing was about the length of a long terrace from us, but even at this distance it was huge.

“Look!” I cried, pointing ahead and to our right.

We stopped and stared, and then I led the way, walking fast in my eagerness to be the first to reach the bleached spars and struts of the… thing .

I slowed, my steps retarded by wonder. I looked up as I approached, craning my neck to take in the high vaulting immensity of the curiously bulky and yet insubstantial framework.

We drew together and stared.

“Bones,” I whispered. “It’s the skeleton of some… some great beast!”

“And look!” Nohma said, making a sweeping gesture that took in the creature’s length. “It had no legs!”

The largest bones I had seen before this were those of a goat, white and curved in miniature compared to this colossal beast. I walked its length, and rounded the long, serrated jawbone. I walked along its far side, reached out and touched a high arching rib that curved above me, five times the height of a man. Within the bleached cave of its ribcage I made out its great spine, long and knobbled like some freakish tree-trunk. Through the bones I saw Nohma and Kenda on the far side, reduced by the immensity of the creature’s remains.

I stepped under the arch of the ribs, walking towards my companions through what had been the creature’s belly, and stopped before them. I stared at Kenda, unable to keep a smile of triumph from my face.

“Do you believe Old Tan’s stories now?” I asked him. “Do you think that Old Old Old Marla was lying?” I looked from him to Nohma. “This was one of the beasts that lived long, long ago — many thousands of winters ago — the legless beasts that swam in the waters that filled the valleys — just as Old Old Old Marla claimed they did!”

I moved off, having made my point, and walked towards the creature’s tail-bones.

I was aware that Kenda had followed me only when he said, “Par.”

I turned. He was staring at me with ill-concealed contempt.

“This proves nothing,” he said. “It’s mere bones. Who said the creature swam in water?”

“Do you see its leg bones?” I said.

“Leg bones? What does that prove? Does a slug have legs — and do they live in water?” He flung a gesture at the skeleton. “This doesn’t prove that the valleys were filled with water — just that giant creatures once roamed the Earth.”

Behind him, I saw Nohma approach, an expression of concern on her face. Emboldened by her arrival, I laughed at him. “And yet you were the one denying the existence of giant crabs just a night ago!” I jeered.

“You little–!” he began, and unable to find a suitable expletive he pushed me in the chest.

I was not expecting his assault, and staggered backwards — tripping over one of many tailbones and falling hard against the segmented spine. I saw red, and in rage reached out and snatched up a long, white spar. Without thinking, and to Nohma’s horror, I leapt to my feet and swung the makeshift club at Kenda.