Rites of Passage (17 page)

We ate sitting on the flat slab of rock overlooking the high plateau that we would cross that evening. I was feeling pleased with myself at having found the cave, levelling the score between Kenda and me.

As I chewed dried crab meat, Nohma leaning against me, I swept an arm at the expanse before us. “Hundreds and thousands of winters ago,” I said, “all this, everything we can see apart from the mountain peaks themselves, was submerged beneath more water than you can imagine. Old Tan tells of the time, many winters ago, when explorers found the bones of armless animals that lived in the water – great long things twenty times as big as the biggest crab! Imagine that!”

Beside me Nohma was staring into the distance, wide-eyed. Kenda looked unimpressed.

“And you know how Old Tan adds fanciful details to his stories,” he said. “For all we know there was no water filling the valleys; there were no dwelling places on the mountaintops. And there were certainly no people living there.”

I wondered if he were arguing against me because he really believed what he was saying, or because he wanted to ridicule me before Nohma.

I stared at him. “Very well, then, what do
you
think, Kenda? Where did we come from? Was there water filling all the valleys, all across the face of the Earth?”

He sneered at me. “Old Tan’s a fool, an entertaining fool, but still a fool. And Old Hath before him – whose stories were even more fanciful and absurd! They tell such tales to amuse children, to while away the daylight hours so we don’t get bored and fight amongst ourselves.”

“That’s rubbish!” I said. “Their stories are true, or are based on truths. Who knows, even greater things than what they tell might have happened, long ago. Wonderful things! Why, Old Hath says that our people, many winters gone, came across the shell of a... a
thing
... that moved across the desert like... like a crab on wheels!”

Kenda flung his head back and snorted with laughter. “Listen to him. A giant crab on wheels! Whatever next, Par? You’ll be telling us that our ancestors could fly!”

Enraged, I stared at Nohma. “What do you think. Nohma? You believe, don’t you? You believe that there was more than just what we have now? You believe that once we lived on the mountaintops and had more water than we could possibly drink, and we had things that moved across the deserts on wheels!”

Nohma was watching me, as I ranted, with a sweet accepting expression on her face. She smiled and said, “To be honest I don’t know what to believe. But I do believe that, one way or the other, we might find out over the course of our initiation. Now, I’m tired. Are you coming, Par?”

And so saying, she rose from her cross-legged position, unfolding herself with a sinuous grace, and padded deep into the cave’s shadows.

Ignoring Kenda, I pushed myself upright and joined her.

~

O
n the third night we crossed the silver sands of the high plateau, passed through a range of serried hills and came to yet another saddled plateau hammocked between two lofty mountain peaks. Ahead we made out, against the full moon, the rise and fall of the mountains beyond which Old Old Old Marla had made her discoveries.

I tried to discern the shapes of dwellings on the distant skyline, but the horizon was too far away to see anything but the line of jagged mountain peaks.

“Where are your dwellings and wheeled crab-things now, Par?” Kenda sneered. “Come to that, where are all the other things that would be lying around if we had covered the Earth in our millions?”

I ignored his taunts and trudged on, staring ahead.

His words made me uneasy. Where
was
the evidence of teeming life on Earth? Surely millions of people would have left behind some trace of their existence? When you looked about the Valley where we lived now, and looked closely at the Caves, you could see all manner of things that denoted our presence, from carved bones to discarded wood, from the way we farmed in stepped terraces to the trees we planted in orderly rows.

But all there was at this rarefied elevation, between the mountain peaks, was sand and more sand, and tumbled rocks and giant boulders – no sign that humankind had come this way at all, never mind settled and tamed these wild lands.

Perhaps, I fell to thinking as we slogged on through the drifting sands and daybreak approached, as the heat increased and the humidity became almost drinkable, and the crab shell weighed heavily on my shoulders – perhaps Kenda was right and all the fabulous stories told by Old Tan were no more than lies spun to while away the daylight hours and keep our people amused. Perhaps humankind had always scrabbled for existence in caves at the very bottom of the world.

~

P
erspiration ran in a cataract down my chest and soaked the waistband of my loincloth. Every step was a painful labour. The crab shell weighed twice as much, I swear, as it had when we set off. It was the fourth night of our travels and we were halfway across the silver plateau.

Kenda called a halt. We caught up with him and squatted, breathing hard. We looked ahead.

Kenda voiced my fears. “Daybreak is about two hours off. How long before we reach the next range?”

We stared ahead, at the jagged line of mountain peaks that sliced into the night-sky. The foothills were many hours away, and I said as much.

“So why don’t we walk on for another hour or so, and then pitch camp for the night?” He dug his bare heel into the sand and said, “The ground is soft. We’ll dig a trench, as deep as we can, and arrange the shells across the top. This way we’ll be in better shade than merely lying under our shells above ground.”

We nodded; what he said made sense, though I resented him for taking the initiative. I saw Nohma regard Kenda with renewed respect.

We drank a little water and then set off again.

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.

The blow hit the rim of his crab shell before striking his brow, or I might have crushed his skull. Even so, the injury was not slight. He cried out loud and staggered away, clutching his head as he fell to the ground.

“What have you done!” Nohma cried, and rushed to help Kenda to his feet.

“But he pushed me first,” I said pathetically, a sickening sensation churning my gut. I wished I could have relived those last few seconds, wished I could have taken back the strike – and knew it for a turning point in the journey.

Kenda hauled himself to his feet and faced me. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead, dark in the moonlight. He stared at me, hatred in his eyes, then turned and marched away.