Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

‘Let’s say we destroy the salt, what then? Would we be protected from those dragons?’ Their leader indicated the approaching dust-cloud.

Carnelian had no answer. Even if they managed to give up Osidian, alive, would Aurum return to the Guarded Land without inflicting retribution? Carnelian remembered how much Aurum liked to enforce the Law. All Osidian’s tribes had seen him and Carnelian without masks. Just for that the penalty was death.

His doubt was infecting the Plainsmen. He looked to Krow, but there was no help there. Before he knew it he was saying: ‘I have a plan that might save you all.’

Their faces lit with hope, but Carnelian, needing time to think, looked away down the convoy. ‘First I must see how much salt you’ve brought.’

He rode his aquar down the flank of the column. There were hundreds of drag-cradles, heavily laden. Overwhelming wealth. Notions of using it himself flitted through his mind. How else was he to make good on his promise to them? How could he save them from Aurum?

Coming to the end of the convoy, he saw its rump, creatures on foot. A mass of matted hair and misshapen bodies clad in verminous rags. Sartlar. Distaste rose in him like bile. His render dream came back to him as he recalled with disgust how they had turned pygmies into broth then fed on them.

He walked his aquar back up the column, the taste of the dream in his mouth. He eyed Aurum’s dust-cloud. They were running out of time. He almost cried out as an idea began forming in his mind. It was a narrow, dangerous path, but it might just be a way to salvation. There was no time to analyse it. The leaders of the Darkcloud were waiting for him, Krow among them.

‘First we must save the people who are fleeing with the Master before the dragons.’

His certainty stiffened spines. Even Krow became alert.

He gazed towards the Koppie. Osidian would not have told him to send the salt to the Bluedancing koppie unless he thought it safe from Aurum. He had an inkling why that might be true and, for the moment, he would have to build his own plan upon Osidian’s.

He looked back at the Darkcloud. ‘We’ll convene a council of war in the koppie of the Bluedancing.’

Men shifted uneasily, gauging each other’s reaction with sidelong glances.

‘Will you trust me?’

Many still looked unconvinced.

Krow rode forward, grim, haunted. ‘When this Master led you before didn’t he help you save your koppie from the Marula?’

They looked to their leaders, who looked at each other. First one then another began nodding. There was not time for Carnelian to feel triumphant. ‘The salt first. We need the drag-cradles cleared to evacuate your people from your koppie.’

Not giving them time to think further he rode back along the convoy and was relieved when they followed him. Everywhere Darkcloud were throwing off the protective blankets to reveal the sparkling white slabs stacked beneath. Carnelian could sense how great was their reluctance to destroy such wealth. ‘Unhitch the drag-cradles,’ he cried.

He allowed Krow to overtake him. ‘Thank you.’

Krow shrugged.

‘Will you ride with me?’

Krow nodded.

‘Well, then, choose forty of the bravest from among those who least fear the Master.’

Krow jerked a nod then rode away. Carnelian gave his attention to instilling confidence in the Darkcloud leaders. Soon they were bellowing orders. At first the Plainsmen lifted the slabs with care. After the first shattered among the meshing fernroots, more followed. Soon their work of destruction took on a fury of its own. Crystals flashed in the air so that the men in the midst of the destruction seemed to be splashing about in water as they ground shards to powder with their heels. Aquar, lifting heads crowned with startled eye-plumes, shied away from the mayhem.

Carnelian rode back towards the sartlar. As he approached they collapsed to the ground grovelling. This added to his disgust. ‘Kor?’

One of the shapeless mounds rose. The hag’s disfigured face slipped free of her mane. He had forgotten how fearfully ugly she was. ‘Will your people be able to keep up with the riders?’

She bowed her head. ‘Master.’

He took that for a yes. Pity overcame his loathing. He wondered why Krow had brought the sartlar from the Upper Reach. It seemed unlikely any would survive what was to come.

Hubbub rushed through the convoy towards him. Looking up, he saw everyone gazing towards the Koppie. Smoke was rising from the Crag. Fear clutched him. It was a signal from Fern. He sped back across a frost of salt to the Darkcloud leaders.

‘Send messengers to all the tribes. All must do what they can for their own protection, then send representatives to a council of war to be held tonight in the koppie of the Bluedancing. Get your own people there with all the djada and water they can gather. If they stay at home, they’ll be trapped between the Backbone and the dragons.’

When he was sure they understood, Carnelian joined Krow and the men he had picked and, with two riderless aquar, he led them at full pelt towards the Koppie.

Smoke rising from the Koppie made Carnelian recall the plague sign on his ride to Osrakum. Ravens disturbed by it swarmed the Crag like flies. He saw his dread mirrored on the faces of the Plainsmen round him. All could see these omens of death.

It was past midday when they reached the Newditch. Fern’s signal had frayed away on the breeze. The ravens had settled once more to their feasting. Carnelian led the Darkcloud up the Southing. When they neared the Southgate bridge they saw two figures, Fern and Poppy, waiting for them. Sthax gleamed behind them in the gloom under the cedars.

The Darkcloud regarded Fern as if he were a living corpse. One bowed his head. ‘May we set foot upon your earth, Ochre Fern?’

Fern gave his leave then turned troubled eyes on Carnelian. ‘Marula approach the Koppie, Plainsmen covering their retreat. Auxiliaries pursue them closely and… dragons.’

‘Any sign of the Master?’ Carnelian asked.

‘A small group is coming up the Sorrowing.’

Carnelian prayed this would be Osidian with his Oracles. Morunasa was sure to be with him and might be their best hope of taking Osidian without a fight. He turned in his saddle-chair and scanned the grim faces of the Darkcloud. ‘We must take the Master alive.’

Colour drained from their faces. Krow looked sick.

‘If he escapes, the dragons will lay waste to every koppie many days’ ride in all directions. If we manage to get his body, the same. Only if we have him living can we hope to survive. Will you help me?’

The Darkcloud looked to their leaders who, after exchanging glances, reluctantly gave Carnelian their support.

‘And you, Krow?’

Chewing his lip the youth gave a nod. Fern stood forward, eyes blazing. ‘I’ll have nothing to do with this murderer.’

Krow withered under Fern’s glare. Carnelian saw with what horror the Darkcloud turned to regard the youth. He had mixed feelings, but owed him a debt. ‘Krow, will you take Poppy with you down to the Old Bloodwood Tree and watch over her?’

Poppy began a protest that Carnelian silenced with a look. ‘Please, Krow.’

He felt a burst of relief as the youth rode up to Poppy, leaning to offer her his hand. Frowning she took hold of it and he swung her up to sit on his lap. Carnelian asked a couple of Darkcloud to go with them, then, after Fern and Sthax were mounted on the aquar he had brought for them, he led them and the remaining Darkcloud round the Homing to the Childsgate, where they all dismounted. As he directed them to conceal themselves in the shadows Carnelian noticed how the Darkcloud stole furtive glances up the hill, how they whispered to each other, how they trod the carpet of cedar needles as if they were afraid to wake the women lying among the roots of their mother trees.