Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

Another Oracle, reaching awkwardly for the bowl, winced as his sleeves slid down his arms revealing seared flesh, crusted and weeping. Morunasa saw what Carnelian was looking at. ‘Dragonfire.’

Turning, Carnelian almost believed he could see flames reflecting in Morunasa’s eyes. Dread seeped into him. ‘Defeat then?’

‘Hookfork invited the Master to negotiate, then betrayed the truce. Many were lost to the firestorm as we covered his escape.’

Remote from Morunasa’s voice, Carnelian stood stunned by an outcome even worse than any he had feared. ‘How many dead?’

Morunasa’s eyes burned. ‘Among the Flatlanders?’

‘I know the Marula are mortal too.’

Morunasa’s glare softened. ‘The Flatlanders suffered worse.’

‘He’s protecting the Marula?’

Morunasa snorted. ‘Not from love.’

Carnelian understood. ‘He believes you are more fully under his control.’

Morunasa nodded. ‘The Flatlanders now have one worse to fear than him.’

‘But they still follow him?’

‘He persuaded them they must delay the dragons to give their people a chance to get away.’

‘Away where?’

‘To the mountains.’

‘So early in the year? Madness!’ Though the heavener hunts Osidian had organized might have provided enough food for the journey, it was still impossible. ‘The raveners…’ he said, feeling revulsion at the idea of exposing so many people to the fernland before the predators had gone east. Day after day as naked prey. Night after night manning rings of fire against the monsters. ‘Madness,’ he said again. ‘They don’t even have the aquar they would need to pull the drag-cradles.’

‘The tribes will set off once their men return.’

Migration across a land still prowled by raveners with Aurum pursuing them. The image of the old Master torching ants caused dread to rise in Carnelian. Who could survive the coming holocaust? He forced himself to consider what else Morunasa had said. ‘Delay? How?’

The Oracle frowned. ‘We skirmish with them, encourage them to attempt envelopment, then break out before the dragons can come in to finish us.’

Carnelian began to understand their stooping, their dull eyes. How many times must they have come close to annihilation? The image of Akaisha and Ebeny burning. Cedars lit like torches. Holocaust. He strove to focus his mind. Despair was an indulgence he must not give way to. Aurum was not the only threat. Osidian would have a plan to have his power survive this debacle. What part might these migrations play in his schemes? Carnelian tried to find some hope in the possibility of the tribes fleeing to the mountains, but what was there to stop Aurum pursuing them with fire? The Withering perhaps? Even a legion could not hope to endure such waterless heat. Yes, the Withering might drive Aurum back to the Guarded Land. What then?

Carnelian focused on Morunasa. ‘Why’ve you come?’

‘When the salt arrives here from the Upper Reach, he’s commanded that you take it to the koppie of the Bluedancing.’

So that was it. Osidian wanted to safeguard the treasure with which he might recruit more Plainsmen. He would fight on until the Earthsky was a lifeless desert. He must be stopped.

Carnelian knew that in what was to come Morunasa could well be pivotal. ‘And what’s to happen to your people?’

The Oracle considered his answer. ‘Our warriors still follow the Master, but this land can no longer be saved.’

But the Upper Reach could be. Carnelian considered whether Morunasa might be hoping to persuade Osidian to retreat there with the Marula. Isolated in the Isle of Flies, Morunasa could hope to overthrow him. Then Morunasa would be free to re-establish the Oracles’ cruel dominion over the Lower Reach. Carnelian was not happy about that, but he had to do what he could, not attempt to save the whole world.

Morunasa dipped another bowl into the cistern. ‘I’ve done as he bade me.’ He drank another draught, then declared he must return to the Master.

‘How many days before the dragons reach here?’ Carnelian asked.

Morunasa shrugged. ‘Two at most. More easily might he seek to stop the Rains than their advance.’

They carried some of the precious water down to the aquar and the warriors. As they drank, greedily, they squinted at the incandescent plain. Most likely, the anxiety in their faces had less to do with returning to the withering heat than with returning to the battlefront.

Watching Morunasa, Carnelian strove to devise some way he might use an alliance with him to help the Plainsmen. Though he and Morunasa might conspire against Osidian, this would not protect the tribes from Aurum, who would soon be in their midst. Fern and Poppy might be saved. He reached out to touch Morunasa’s shoulder. The Oracle glanced at Carnelian’s hand in surprise.

‘Leave me some aquar.’

Morunasa raised an eyebrow. His gaze unfocused then sharpened again. ‘I’ll leave you one.’

‘Leave me two… please.’

Something like a smile played over Morunasa’s lips. ‘I can spare only one.’

He barked a command at one of the Marula warriors. The man glanced at Carnelian, then gave a nod. Morunasa and the rest climbed into their saddle-chairs. Their aquar rose and they began filing through the Northgate. One by one they sped away, pulsing bright and dark as they coursed through the magnolia shadows.

Carnelian regarded the man Morunasa had left behind. He peered along the Homing in the direction in which it was likely Fern and Poppy were working. He would have to go and talk to them. How would they react to the presence of one of the murderers of the Tribe? He had worse news for them. A holocaust was bearing down on them he could see no way to deflect and all he might suggest they could do was to destroy the salt. Beyond that, his only hope now, however thin, was that somehow he could restore the subjugation of the Plainsmen to the Masters.

The Maruli was sneaking glances up the hill at the hanging dead. He looked distressed. Perhaps it was unjust to hold him responsible for the massacre. What choice had he had, but to obey the Oracles and Osidian? Carnelian caught the man’s attention and, together, they set off with the aquar ambling after them.

Poppy stared down at the Maruli standing where Carnelian had left him on the Homing. Mattock in hand, Fern regarded the man with cold malice. Trying to head off a dangerous confrontation Carnelian spoke quickly. ‘Morunasa left him here because I asked for an aquar. Whatever he may have done, remember that he’s little more than the Master’s slave.’

Fern turned on Carnelian, raising the stone blade of his mattock, snarling. ‘If he comes anywhere near one of my people I’ll kill him.’

Carnelian was relieved Fern was venting his rage through words rather than action. ‘I’ve something to tell you.’

Fern climbed out of the grave he had been digging and advanced on Carnelian. ‘What? That Morunasa’s come with commands from the Master?’

Carnelian eyed the raised mattock then looked at Poppy. ‘Please, Poppy, go to the hearth. I need to talk to Fern alone.’

Holding him with a glare, the girl shook her grimy head. Carnelian saw the lump of ochre like clotted blood in her hand and how gore sheathed her arms. What was he trying to protect her from? He sat on the ground. ‘Let’s talk then.’

Poppy’s eyes softened and she too sank to the ground. Fern lowered the mattock, but remained standing. Carnelian began by admitting that Morunasa had come with instructions from Osidian ‘… to safeguard the salt Krow’s bringing from the Upper Reach.’

Poppy struck the ground with her ochre. ‘Even now he does whatever the Master tells him.’

Carnelian looked from her face to Fern’s. ‘The Master’s been defeated. He flees before the dragons. They’re coming here.’