The Burning Man kots-2, page 36
part #2 of Kingdom of the Serpent Series
Dreams came in force, and he hadn’t dreamed for a long time. They were hallucinatory, as if every image stored up since his first kill had been released as one, shouting and stamping their feet for attention, desperate to be set free. Though there was no clear narrative, he could pick meaning from the fires and the bones, the ravens and the single beacon glowing away in the dark that he could never reach.
He awoke slowly, fighting for freedom, to discover Dian Cecht sitting on a stool, studying him dispassionately.
‘What have you found?’ Hunter asked blearily.
‘She is gone,’ Dian Cecht replied.
Those three words took all the hope out of Hunter’s life.
5
High up on the playa of the Black Rock Desert in Nevada, ninety miles north-north-east of Reno, a blasting wind flayed the skin and brought furious dust storms out of nowhere, and the sun seared the bleak landscape to a hundred degrees. Yet in this inhospitable location, a ramshackle city had grown: tents and makeshift shacks, geodesic domes, soaring statues and art installations that doubled as living quarters, arranged into streets and esplanades with all the order of a fixed city’s town planning.
The citizens wandered around in bizarre costumes — a Statue of Liberty, Wonder Woman, a tinfoil clown — or naked, body-painted, pierced, tattooed, dreadlocked, shaven-headed, surfer shorts, army fatigues, top hats, motorcycle jackets. They wore goggles and scarves across their mouths to protect against the seventy-mile-per-hour sand. Some drove vehicles that had been transformed into works of art, too, metal blossoming into staggering new mechanical creations. It was the day after the apocalypse, the end of the world, a nomadic tribe in the hinterland, and the party was only just beginning.
This was what Veitch saw when he tumbled from nowhere onto the prehistoric salt-pan. ‘This isn’t bleedin’ New York,’ he said as a man in a gimp suit wandered past.
Ruth dusted herself down as Miller, Etain and the others crashed out of the Blue behind them. ‘I can’t see Church,’ she said. ‘Why did we get spat out here?’
Beyond the tent city, a massive wicker man rose up against the silver sky.
A bare-chested, sandalled man with dyed blonde hair, carrying a surfboard, wandered up. His rolling gait suggested the influence of some narcotic. He went straight to Miller who was chewing on a fingernail, disoriented and frightened.
‘Dude, you’ve got a blue dragon inside you!’ the surfer said. His skittering fascination turned to the otherworldly mounts of the Brothers and Sisters of Spiders. ‘Cool ponies!’ He took a step back and began to sing ‘My Little Pony’ before breaking into a cackling laugh.
Etain took a step forward. Veitch made a subtle sign for her to stop.
‘Where are we?’ Ruth asked the surfer.
‘Chica! So, what, you’re a yahoo or a virgin?’ He looked from her to Veitch. ‘Nice sword, dude. And that silver hand … cool! If this is your first time, you fit right in.’
‘Tell you what, mate,’ Veitch said. ‘How about you start speaking some sense or I give you a look at my sword close up?’
The surfer was oblivious to Veitch’s threat. His attention was drawn to the horizon where the wind had whipped up a dust storm. ‘Uh-oh, there’s a white-out blowin’ in. Gotta take shelter. Later.’ Clutching his board, he ran awkwardly towards the nearest tents.
Ruth shielded her eyes from the sun; the moisture was rapidly being sucked from her body. ‘He’s right. Without the right clothes or provisions, we’re in danger.’
With mounting annoyance, Veitch drew Etain to one side. ‘You take the others out of sight till I can work out what we’re doing. Don’t want to freak anyone out.’ He paused, read her face. ‘Stop looking at me like that. I know you’re feeling bad …’ He glanced back at Ruth. ‘We’ll talk about it, all right? Soon.’
Etain took the reins of her mount and walked away into the desert. Branwen, Tannis and Owein followed.
‘Do you really think she understands you?’ Miller asked. ‘Or do you just pretend you know what she’s thinking?’
‘I’m not mad, all right?’ he replied angrily before marching towards the tents.
The dust storm swept in quickly. The surfer’s name for it was fitting, for within seconds it was impossible to see more than a few feet. Veitch, Ruth and Miller were offered shelter in a large communal tent that resembled a Bedouin hall. Twenty or so others sat around on cushions talking quietly amongst themselves, or listening to trance music on an MP3 player fitted with speakers.
They all showed deference to a man in his sixties with snow-white hair tied in a ponytail and a long droopy moustache. He had brilliant blue eyes and an open, genial nature. He took the three of them over to where he’d been lounging on cushions and offered them home-made honey-cakes.
‘I’m guessing you’re virgins,’ he said with a Southern drawl. ‘Your clothes … not suitable, man, nah. My name’s Rick.’ He gestured expansively. ‘Welcome to my domain. Enjoy yourselves. Everything is given freely and without obligation.’ He chuckled throatily.
‘Where are we?’ Ruth asked.
Rick laughed, realised she wasn’t joking. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Just answer the bleedin’ question,’ Veitch said.
‘You’ve got a lot of anger in you, I can see that. You don’t need to let it eat you up here, man. You’re with friends.’
‘You’re not my friends.’
‘Yeah, we are. You just don’t know it yet. We’re a community, one of the last real ones left in this grasping, mean old world. We look after our own. You don’t need to watch your back here. We’ll do it for you. You can check all your anger and guilt and hatred at the door. We’ve all been there. We all know that pain. Here we can live the life we’ve always wanted to live and know we’re safe.’
Veitch opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, shrugged, shifted uneasily.
Rick smiled. ‘Good. We’ve got us an understanding. Okay, I’ll take your question at face value. This is Burning Man Festival.’ He looked from Veitch to Ruth to Miller, saw only blankness, sighed. ‘You fell out of the sky?’
‘Something like that.’ Ruth said.
‘Okay, Burning Man one-oh-one. An eight-day festival held up here in Black Rock every year ending on Labor Day. We come from all over, thousands of us, more every year, and set up this temporary city. You must know this if you’re here, right?’
‘We’re pretty sure we’re here for a reason. We just don’t know why yet,’ Ruth replied.
‘Yeah, a lot of us Burners are like that. We’re all searching for something here. Some even find it.’
‘So what’s the point?’ Veitch asked.
Rick laughed. ‘The point is the world has no point! Art, spirituality, friendship, community, love — all the things that matter are forgotten out there. Sacrificed on the altar of commercialism.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘This whole deal is an experiment. In community. In self-expression — you see the art out there? It’s everywhere, a part of everyday life as it should be. And it’s an experiment in self-reliance. This place is the antithesis of the real world. There are no cash transactions. No stores. You can’t buy what you haven’t brought with you. If you don’t come well prepared you’re in real danger out here. Or you can rely on the support of your neighbours. Offer to do something for them, they’ll look after you. That’s how a community binds together. What’s your community?’ He directed the question at Veitch.
Veitch shifted uneasily. ‘I’m on my own.’
‘How’s that working out for you?’
Veitch didn’t respond.
‘We have ten principles here at Burning Man. Radical inclusion, gifting, decommodification, radical self-reliance, radical self-expression, communal effort, civic responsibility, leaving no trace, participation and immediacy. Now, to me that’s a pretty good constitution for this new age we’re moving into.’
Miller nodded. ‘I like that. I like that a lot.’
Ruth struggled to see anything relevant in Rick’s words. ‘Maybe it was just an accident we dropped out here. Totally random.’
‘There aren’t any coincidences,’ Veitch muttered. ‘All right, I’m going to have a look around once that dust-storm’s dropped.’
‘Black Rock City is built in an arc with concentric streets. You’ll find the Burning Man at the centre,’ Rick said. ‘Good luck with your quest. You look like you need to find some answers pretty quick.’
As they made their way out of the tent, a shaven-headed man offered them a comic book he had been reading. ‘You want to take a look at this,’ he said with a lazy smile.
Veitch examined it. ‘Seven Soldiers?’
‘Grant Morrison. Celtic mythology. Seven heroes saving the world. Has all the best antecedents, if you know what I mean.’
Veitch handed the comic back. ‘Seven is good. Five is better.’
‘Rick’s a nice guy,’ Ruth said as they stood at the door waiting for the wind to drop.
‘Reminded me of Tom. Only without the misery injection.’ Veitch stared into the whipping dust, lost to his thoughts.
‘I think we should split up, meet in the centre.’
Veitch eyed her suspiciously.
‘I’ll be there. You can trust me.’
‘I’ve heard that before.’ He turned to Miller. ‘You come with me.’
‘You can trust me, too!’ Miller protested.
‘’ Cept I can’t trust you not to do something stupid, like getting run over or accidentally wandering into the desert. I need you where I can give you a clip round the ear when your brain packs in.’
Miller looked affronted.
Ruth surprised Veitch with a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you for trusting me.’
‘Don’t let me down.’ Veitch grabbed Miller by the collar and dragged him into the baking heat.
6
As Ruth made her way amongst the drifting crowds of bohemians, stopping every now and then to examine the spectacular art displays, she tried to make some sense of her own see-sawing emotions.
She knew she loved Church, but she was increasingly aware of a growing affection for Veitch, which both Tom and Shavi had clearly recognised in Beijing before she had even allowed herself to be aware of it. But how much of that was due to her own feelings, and how much had been caused by Veitch’s power-sucking spell in Cornwall? Would she ever know the truth?
Veitch had done some terrible things, yet she could see that he was still at heart the hero who had been chosen by Existence. His great flaw was his emotional weakness. At times he was like a spurned child, lashing out at the things he believed had hurt his hopes and feelings. Could he be saved? It was her flaw to believe she could help him, and she was afraid it would all end in tears.
But love him? No, surely not.
From out of nowhere, the wind whipped up the dust into a choking smog in the avenue between the tents and shacks. A mutant vehicle, a three-wheeled motorbike with spider legs, roared by. The rider, a black woman wearing snow-goggles, yelled, ‘You want to get under cover. There’s another white-out coming on the back of the last.’ She disappeared into the dust.
The storm grew stronger in seconds. It was already too late to attempt to make her way back to Rick’s tent; her best option was to try one of the nearby homes.
Before she could move, the sound of hoof-beats began to draw near. From out of the swirling clouds came Etain, sword drawn. It took Ruth a second to realise she was the target and by then the Sister of Spiders was almost upon her.
At the last moment, Ruth threw herself out of the way. Disoriented by the dust blasting her eyes and face, crushed by the intense heat, she couldn’t run.
Etain brought her mount round again. Her scarred and blackened face gave no hint of the emotions that drove her.
Ruth barely avoided the thundering hooves. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she yelled as she rolled out of the way.
As the words left her lips, she knew. ‘You’re jealous,’ she said, stunned.
She was left reeling by the revelation that there was still some echo of life’s richness deep beneath the surface of what she had considered a mechanical shell. And she knew that Etain would not stop until she was dead.
Etain was lost in the now-raging dust storm. Choking, Ruth could barely breathe, barely stand. She covered her face and turned her thoughts inward.
I can do this, she pressed. Not so long ago I could have torn this world inside out. I can do it again.
As Etain roared out of the dust, Blue Fire exploded in Ruth’s head. The chaotic force of the dust storm bent to her will and smashed against Etain like a hammer, knocking her from the saddle. The impact probably broke several bones, but she was up in a second, sword in hand, marching towards Ruth.
Exhilarated, but unsure how long she could sustain it, Ruth said, ‘I’m going to thank you. If not for this, I’d probably never have been pushed hard enough to realise what I’m still capable of.’
Etain lunged with the sword. Ruth concentrated. It was becoming more difficult to focus, but she increased the power of the storm, forcing Etain back. She hacked and slashed, her fury an eerie counterpoint to her frozen features.
‘Okay, you love him, I get it,’ Ruth said. ‘You let Church into the pyramid because you hoped he might take me away and leave Ryan all to yourself. Now you’ve decided the only chance you have is to take me out of the picture completely. Is that right?’
Etain paused mid-strike and let her sword-arm fall to her side.
‘I feel sorry for you,’ Ruth continued. ‘I know how much you’ve suffered over the centuries. I’m not even going to comment on a dead woman falling in love with a living guy. Frankly, I’ve seen weirder things in recent times. But if you come for me again, I will take you apart. Literally.’
Etain stood in the raging dust for a moment until Ruth saw a single glint on her cheek, the last drop of moisture leaving her arid body.
Ruth wanted to say something that would comfort Etain, but the gulf was too great to bridge; and it troubled her to think that even on the other side of death there was no escape from the pain love often bought.
As the storm blew stronger, Ruth took shelter amongst the nearest tents, and when she looked back, Etain was gone.
7
For half an hour, Miller had been chattering earnestly about how he’d adjusted to his role in events and was now prepared to do ‘big things’, and how Veitch was such a hero, though he hid it well, and such an inspiration, and how his eyes had been opened to all the magic in the world. During their months on the road, Veitch had learned to zone him out until he became a dim background buzz.
Instead he focused on the people moving around the tent where they had been offered shelter from the returning dust storm. He saw a man delve into his personal medical supplies to help a complete stranger who had gashed his arm. He saw a couple, desperate after their tent had been torn away by the storm and all their possessions lost, now given free use of their neighbour’s home and supplies. He saw numerous acts of kindness played out without a second thought.
‘Maybe we should stay here for a while,’ he said, talking to himself, really. ‘Maybe that’s why we ended up here.’
He realised Miller had fallen silent. ‘What?’
‘You don’t really mean that.’
‘I do.’
‘You’ve got a mission. You need to find the other Key or the Void wins.’
‘I think we need to get a few things straight here. Firstly, I’m not after the Second Key to do some good deed. I want you two in my hands for revenge, pure and simple.’
‘I know you’ve said that, but … you don’t really mean it.’
‘That shows how much you know. A — if it screws up that bastard Church’s plan to be a big hero, then that’s a win. Why should he get all the cheers? And b — with the two of you, I get the power to decide how everything should be. And if I decide it’s going to be a wasteland, then that’s how it’s going to be.’
Miller looked hurt for a moment, but slowly he smiled.
‘I mean it.’
‘You don’t fool me. I can see what you’re really like.’
‘Will you stop that!’
‘You’re a good man, Ryan-’
‘You’re a bleedin’ simpleton. You wouldn’t see the truth if it smacked you in the face. And when the time comes, don’t think I won’t throw you to the lions, ’cause I will. You don’t mean anything to me, Miller. All the hours we’ve “shared” on the road … nothing. This is my time, finally. And I’m not going to screw it up.’
He gave Miller a sharp crack round the ear and then went to the tent-flap. The storm had moved on. ‘Get your arse out here. And if I hear another sound out of you, you’re going to be wearing your bollocks for a necklace.’
Veitch walked down one of the radial streets to the focal point of Black Rock City, with a troubled Miller hurrying to keep up. They weren’t alone. The citizens were coming out of their homes in increasing numbers, following the same route.
‘What’s happening?’ Miller asked, then skipped back when Veitch glared at him.
The sun was setting and the temperature was falling rapidly. As darkness spread across the playa, fires sprang up in the many neighbourhoods that formed the sprawling city. Music rose up everywhere, parties and dancing.
‘Wow,’ Miller said. ‘I feel like I’ve gone back a thousand years.’
Veitch was too engrossed by his surroundings to retain his anger. By the time they reached the communal area at the heart of the city, night had fallen and it was already close to freezing.
‘What kind of place is this to hold a festival?’ Veitch said. ‘An oven during the day, a freezer at night.’ He stamped his feet to keep warm.
