gentle progress to the valley entrance.
Osidian approached, attended by Ravan, Krow and other youths. Carnelian felt Poppy, Fern and Sil close around him like a faction. He greeted Osidian in Vulgate and he gave a nod but would not meet Carnelian's eyes.
Osidian turned to watch the smoke rising. 'It hides the sky.'
The fire will renew the earth,' said Fern. 'When we return next year this valley will be as green as it was when we arrived.'
Osidian was not listening. His eyes were grey, reflecting smoke as he spoke. 'Even the sun cannot see through that curtain of darkness.'
Thirst drove them west with ever greater speed. They had been struggling across the torrid land for days. Dawn found them plodding and so too the dusk. They had redistributed the djada and what little water was left so as to free drag-cradles for the pregnant, the younger children, the old and those who had to take turns resting. It was being whispered that the wind-blown promise of rain had been false. People gazed accusingly at the Elders, so many of whom were not having to walk. Carnelian understood there was a need to blame someone. It was difficult not to despair. The furnace air driving into their faces snatched all moisture from throat and eye. The sun glared relentlessly down. Carnelian choked on the ashen dust rolling hissing across a desert desolation. Whenever he lifted his itching eyes, the charcoaled plain stretched before him limitless and droughty to an umber horizon.
The water they carried dwindled day by day, as had the stream in the valley, and still the rain did not come. Every day, in the calm before the dawn, Carnelian saw Akaisha lift her head and dilate her nostrils like dark eyes. She shook her head and, when asked, she swore by the Mother that the Skyfather's rain was hiding unseen in the hem of the sky. With the others, Carnelian wanted to believe her but as each day withered into a chill night, they had to camp again in an unwatered land.
Aquar began dying. The Elders had ordered they should be given less water to save what was left for the people. Carnelian and Poppy saw one creature reel, stumble and fall, tumbling its rider into the dust. The woman rose, wearily, now the colour of the ground. They watched her urge the aquar to rise; she stroked it, talked to it, begged and even struck the creature in desperate rage. It would not budge and, forlorn, she joined the column of people toiling on foot.
When rain came it came unseen. People were leaning forward, straining for each step, eyes closed, despairing faces hidden in the coils of their ubas. The scorching west wind flung a hail of sand against them. It was a distant flash that woke eyes all along the march. Carnelian squinted blearily and saw a darkening horizon. Thunder rumbled. Even as he stopped to stare, the separation between earth and sky was inking black.
'A sandstorm?' he gasped, but the only answer he received was Poppy grabbing hold of his hand.
'Can you feel the Father in the air?' Akaisha shrilled.
Then Carnelian heard the rushing. The front struck them screaming, tearing the uba from his face. Veils of darkness were coming at them, hissing. The sand before him pocked as if a thousand tiny feet were sprinting towards them. Then he smelled the water and it was upon them, running down his face, drowning the air.
The march of the Tribe dissolved into a riot. Carnelian danced with Poppy. People slipping down from aquar were throwing themselves on each other. Many ran about shouting, their faces turned up into the rain, their arms outstretched seeking to embrace the Skyfather's gift of life.
The sky poured its water into the thirsty earth, washing the air clean of dust. Those next few days were a carnival. The rain raised the wilting necks of the aquar and the spirits of the people. Everyone seemed younger, renewed along with the world. Laughter was everywhere and singing. When they camped, children ran laughing, playing muddy games under thunderous skies.
Calm interspersed the storms: the clouds would open and allow the sun in to dazzle them. Now they smiled to feel its warmth upon their faces. Too soon the clouds would close and the rain resume its downpour. So much rain that the plain began softening into a marsh, in the midst of which lagoons were spreading. Soon every day had become a plodding, sodden slog through sucking mud.
Carnelian collapsed beside Fern. Akaisha had chosen a ginkgo for her hearth and had made them hang blankets in the branches, though these gave scant protection. They hung sodden, collecting the rain which spilled over in rivulets, splashing them, besieging them with puddles. All around them in the rumbling gloom the Tribe sheltered as best they could, but even the aquar drooped drenched.
Whin and Sil had nestled a fire between the roots of the tree. When the wind gusted, it forced the smoke towards them in choking, eye-stinging drifts. The lurid flicker sporadically lit Osidian's face.
'Will this curse never cease?' he moaned.
'It'll not stop until after we reach the Koppie, Master,' said Ravan.
'As much as once I loved the rain, I loathe it now,' Osidian said in Quya, addressing Carnelian as if the youth had not spoken.
Embarrassed by the sound of that tongue, Carnelian looked round apologetically.
'It makes me remember,' Osidian continued, relentlessly, his hand straying up to his neck scar. Fire flashed under the ceiling clouds some distance away. Carnelian waited for the thunder. It came rolling, heavy, stuttering, sonorous.
'Hark, He speaks,' said Osidian in an ominous tone and the rain fell with increasing ferocity.
Carnelian's eyes snapped open. A scream. Questions cutting across each other. He sat up. The smouldering fires revealed black shapes scudding through the camp. For a moment one fire was blotted out by a vast hurtling shadow trailing a wild whoop. A battle-cry choked to gurgling by an arcing shape. Everywhere mounds of darkness were rising uttering fearful cries.
Someone pushed by him, crying in Quya, The Two. The Two.'
Osidian was too fast for Carnelian. He saw with dismay Osidian's bright naked body leaping towards their attackers. He was too visible. Cursing, Carnelian overthrew his immobility, rummaging violently among the piles of baggage. When the haft of an axe slipped into his hand, he flung himself round wielding it, crashing after the cold flicker of Osidian's body. Kicking his way through obstructions, his foot caught and he was flung to the ground. He rose, groaning. Something whistled past his ear even as he was thrust back into the mud.
'He almost had you,' cried Fern in anger.
Carnelian could make out the mounted shape as it scooped up a piece of darkness that shrieked with a child's voice, then it was coursing away. Fern helped him up as the cries receded into the darkness. Only a few fires still burned.
'Are you hurt?' said Fern, running his hands over Carnelian, searching for wounds.
Carnelian slipped away from him and stumbled through the dark, steering by the faint beacon of Osidian's body. Everywhere, shapes were stirring, moaning. Some voices wailed while others rang out begging for light.
Carnelian approached Osidian's long white back, glowing in the gloom. Ravan and Krow were already there, reluctant to touch him. Carnelian crept round to peer into Osidian's face. Motionless marble. He gingerly reached out to touch the stone. Cold. Sticky. He jerked his hand back. Osidian seemed to be a corpse, standing. Carnelian licked his fingers and tasted salt.
'Is he wounded?' asked Ravan.
Nothing.
'Well, are you?' Carnelian demanded. 'It is the other that is slain.'
Carnelian could not help drawing away from the eerie voice. He stumbled backwards over the body lying on the ground and fell. Dazed, he lay there feeling the rain falling on his face in a steady rhythm.
Poppy clung to Carnelian. Through the rain, he saw the camp, now a battlefield. All their makeshift shelters were leaning at crazy angles with their blankets trampled into the mud. Bales disembowelled their contents into puddles. People, moaning, were bending among the wreckage, searching. Some were pulling things together as if they had been merely blown down by a freak gust. Many just stood sightlessly staring out over the featureless land.
The Elders began moving among them, ordering things. Some were so weak they had to lean on the arms of their grandchildren, but, even so, they were listened to with the rest.
Akaisha pulled at Carnelian's shoulder. 'Carnie, don't just stand there, dear. Help me clear up this mess.' She noticed Poppy and they exchanged a glance. Both could see in the girl's face that she was seeing the
