Ricardo Pinto - The Standing Dead

At last he saw daylight peering in at the edge of the grove. He broke into a jog. Soon he could feel the percussion of the falls through his feet. Coming out onto a cliff edge, he fell to his knees, sucking in air shimmering with the diamond veils the falls were throwing off. The sun was a glorious mass of light made vague by the mist. The Blackwater was all the rest of the world slipping by. With a jolt, he realized the sun was in the east. It was morning. Fighting panic, he rose and ran round the cliff, reaching the prow the island thrust out over the chasm. From there, he gazed over the drop to where the knoll stood crowned with tiny trees amidst the clearing red as a wound. The anchor baobabs seemed flimsy. The Ladder fell as a mere skein into the depths. He searched for signs of life, but saw none. Dread spurred him on. He followed the path he and Morunasa had used the previous day. As he ran past the margins of the banyan he refused to look into its glooms. He pushed on through soaking clouds then alongside the river until, at last, hidden among the roots, he found a boat. Trusting it had been left there ready for a crossing, he pushed it into the rush and vaulted aboard. The violence of the river swept him along and it took him a while to catch the steering oar. Then he leaned against it, feeling the power of the river come shuddering up through the wood so that he lessened the thrust from fear the oar might snap. Gritting his teeth, he gazed out past the prow as the boat veered slowly across the river.

Where the boat struck the bank was not much further than perhaps ten lengths from the maelstrom. Carnelian flung himself out onto the bank and clung to a rock as he saw the boat swing out and begin spinning in the torrent. Shivering with cold, he watched it fold into the white water and disappear.

He hauled himself up onto the riverpath, then stumbled along it, past the impaled man and through the baobabs towards the knoll. As he ran he looked for people. He found a way through the wooden wall and sprinted up the slope. In his bones he knew the place would be deserted. He reached the camp panting. The Manila, the Plainsmen had all disappeared. There was only one place they could have gone.

Carnelian slumped morose near a hearth which was still warm. It had not taken long to determine that all the aquar had been taken too. On foot, he could not hope to reach the Koppie in time. If his bleak self-disgust had allowed it, he would have wept.

A faraway voice crying out his name made him jump to his feet. It called again. 'Carnie.' It was unmistakably Poppy's voice. He strode over the ditch and, seeing her stumbling up towards him, leapt shouting down the slope to meet her. When they met, he snatched her up into his arms.

The Mother be praised,' he cried.

Poppy buried her head against his neck. 'Fern said you were dead, but I just knew you weren't.'

He crouched to put her down. Her grubby face was all smeared with tears.

'Fern?' he asked.

She half-turned in his arms.

Carnelian's fierce delight released tears. 'He's here?'

'He hid me when the Master came last night.'

He stared at her. 'He came himself?'

She nodded.

'Where's Fern?'

Tying up our aquar. Come on.'

Carnelian put her down, then allowed her to tug him down the slope. Fern appeared around a trunk. His relief at seeing Carnelian made him halt staring. Carnelian picked Poppy up again so that they would get to him more quickly. Fern rushed to meet them.

'I thought you dead,' he said.

'I know,' said Carnelian. 'How many aquar do we have?' Fern grimaced. 'I only managed to hide one.' Carnelian clasped his shoulder. 'You did better than I deserve.'

'When the Master appeared unexpectedly in the camp -'

'Morunasa and the other Oracles?' They came carrying him on a litter.' 'He took everyone with him,' said Poppy. Fern stared distraught. 'He's gone to the Koppie, hasn't he?'

Carnelian's bleak look was answer enough.

'Can we stop him?' Fern's voice, his face, his body even, were all a plea.

Carnelian felt empty, exhausted, weighed down. He hoped Poppy did not guess the holocaust that was threatening. 'We must.'

For a moment, his fierceness gave Fern hope and vigour, but then he drooped. 'We've only one aquar.'

'Will she carry three?'

Fern bit his lip. 'Not the whole way.'

'Well, then, we two will have to take turns running alongside.'

Fern thought about it then nodded grimly. 'We'll need food and water.'

'Have they left any?'

'I'm sure I can find something.'

'Good,' said Carnelian. 'Keep Poppy with you.'

'Where are you going?' Fern asked.

To release the sartlar.'

Carnelian summoned Kor in the usual way. When she appeared over the edge of the chasm, he was there waiting for her. He crouched to look her in the face. She regarded him as if he had her in a cage. He had grown accustomed to her fearful ugliness.

'Little mother,' he said. 'I'm going away.'

'Everyone is going away, Master.'

'Can you count up to ten?'

Kor showed him her gnarled fingers.

'If I don't return or send a message within ten days' – he flared his hands and her eyes flickered as if she were being blinded – 'then you must cut down the ladder trees.'

Her face crumpled in a frown. She pointed carefully at first one and then the other of the baobabs anchoring the Ladder.

Those two, but also that one.' He pointed at the salt-caves tree.

She revealed her peg teeth in what might have been a grin or a grimace. The Master wishes to leave the sartlar starving in the caves below?'

Recoiling from the foulness of her breath, he waved his hand in front of him. 'No. No. You must take all your people and flee.'

'Flee where, Master?'

Carnelian visualized the Three Lands laid out before him. The Leper Valleys.'

Her face collapsed into sad impassivity. 'You know where those lie?' 'Far away, Master.'

He had to agree with her. 'I'm sorry, I know of no other place.'

Her chin dug deeper into her chest so that her hair fell to hide her face. 'As the Master commands, so shall it be done.'

Carnelian rose and looked down at the poor creature. She seemed more like an outcrop of the red stone upon which she stood than a living thing. He could think of nothing more to say. Feeling sad, he walked away.

Midday found Carnelian, Fern and Poppy moving through a dry shadowless land thralled by immense baobabs. Fern was riding the aquar with Poppy on his lap, swaddled against the merciless sun. Carnelian jogged along beside them, trying to match the saurian's easy stride; his robe, his uba, plastered to his skin.

When it was his turn to ride and Fern's to run, Carnelian had to stop the aquar often to wait for him. For all his height, Fern did not have a Master's stride.

The baobabs ended abruptly, as if they were defending a border, and they moved into a region which might have been a becalmed sea. It was Poppy who pointed out the thread of smoke wavering in the east. They stopped to squint at it.

‘It's definitely a koppie beacon,' said Fern.

As they rode further they saw more beacons rising in the west and several more even as the sun was dropping to earth. Carnelian had asked what it was that could alarm all these tribes together, but Fern could only shake his head.

'Perhaps all have joined the Ochre in revolt,' said Carnelian.

'If so, to what purpose would they send out such signals of alarm? The Master couldn't possibly be attacking them all at once.'

Filled with foreboding, they pushed on. They made better progress as the sun lost its fire and would have continued on except Fern pointed out that it was getting late. Over Poppy's head, he mouthed the word 'ravener' and, nodding, Carnelian agreed they should camp for the night.