Daywards

by Anthony Eaton

  Dara!

  Jaran’s ‘voice’ set her fingertips trembling. It wasn’t just the desert, it was everything around them, calling, echoing, yearning for her. But then her gaze fell again on the pustule-like domes of the Nightpeople’s camp.

  If they ran again, she knew, they’d have to keep on running, perhaps forever.

  ‘What do you think, Ma?’

  ‘I think I’m old and tired, Dara girl. I think it’s time to do what we came here for.’

  ‘I don’t know what that is, though.’

  ‘Me either, child. But the answer’s not out there in the sand, eh? Anyway, looks like the decision’s not ours to make any more.’

  She pointed to where two figures had just emerged from one of the domes – a small dark shape she recognised instantly as her cousin and a taller, silver-clad figure beside her. The two walked towards Dara and Ma Saria.

  As they approached, Dara watched her young cousin, searching the girl’s expression for any sign of nervousness, or pain, or anything out of the ordinary. But Eyna’s face betrayed nothing other than calm. And it was impossible to tell anything about the person in the daysuit, whose mirrored visor was still drawn down hard against the setting sun.

  After what seemed like an age, the two stood awkwardly in the sand facing Dara and Ma. For a long moment, the four regarded each other. It was Ma Saria who spoke first.

  ‘Eyna girl. Good to see you’re okay. Everything fine?’

  ‘Jaman, Ma. I’m good.’

  ‘And you, Xani?’ Ma addressed the silver-clad figure, and Dara threw a startled glance at the old woman.

  ‘I’m fine, too, Ma Saria.’ Although the voice coming from the suit’s com unit was synthesised and impersonal, it was unmistakably Uncle Xani. Now that she knew who it was, it was obvious in the way he walked and held himself, even in the constricting bulk of the daysuit. ‘How about you two?’

  ‘We’re both all right. A little tired, perhaps. Been walking quite a while now.’

  ‘We know. We’ve been following.’

  ‘Not exactly quiet about it, either.’

  The daysuit shrugged. ‘We’d hoped to keep our distance and track you using the sky-eyes. Nothing sinister about it. We just wanted to see what you would do. But when Jaran …’ He stopped, and even though his eyes were hidden by the mirrored helmet Dara could feel them flick at her.

  ‘Died,’ she finished for him. ‘You can say it, Uncle.’

  Xani nodded, but still avoided the word. ‘Things became a little more difficult.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ Dara heard herself ask the question as though it was someone else’s voice. Just a few short months ago she’d never have dared to question Uncle Xani in such a way. But things were different now.

  Uncle Xani shifted his weight from one silver-clad hip to the other, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Jaran had been … tagged, they call it. To make it possible to follow you remotely. He had no idea, though.’

  ‘You let them?’

  ‘It seemed the best way. We knew you wouldn’t leave him behind.’

  ‘And what about … everything else they did to him. Did you allow that, too?’

  ‘Dara …’ He opened his gloved hands imploringly. ‘I had no idea they were going to do that. It was … unfortunate.’

  ‘Unfortunate,’ Dara repeated, her voice flat. She regarded Uncle Xani through narrowed eyes. She didn’t want to believe him. The silent tableau held, until Uncle Xani tilted his head suddenly, listening to some signal inside his helmet that was inaudible to the rest of them.

  ‘Finally,’ he muttered, and began to unfasten the neck clasp that held his helmet in place. ‘The sun’s low enough now that I’m within my tolerable levels,’ he explained, carefully removing the protective headgear.

  As the mirrored panel slid up and over his face, Dara braced herself. She expected to feel angry, wasn’t certain she even wanted to look him in the eyes. As he dropped the daysuit helmet to the ground beside him, though, all Dara could do was stare. Uncle Xani looked … different. There was something odd about his skin; it seemed stretched, tight across his cheeks, leaving his eyes as protruded hollows against his face, and it had a golden sheen as well.

  ‘Shi, Xani!’ Ma Saria exclaimed. ‘What in the sky have you done to yourself, eh?’

  He shrugged. ‘We needed to try … some things. To test some ideas. I agreed to be the subject.’

  ‘What things?’

  His tongue darted out, moistening his lips. ‘I’m not the one to explain it, Ma. There are others more qualified than me.’

  ‘They’re listening right now, aren’t they?’ Dara interrupted, in a flash of realisation. ‘Of course they are. Everything’s monitored, that’s what Raj said.’

  Uncle Xani didn’t answer her, but the quick flicker of his eyes back towards the domes of the Nightpeople’s camp told her everything.

  ‘Dara, you don’t understand,’ he began. ‘There’s so much at stake here. You just need to talk to them. This is about more than just our clan. Da Janil understood that, and he spent his whole life trying to …’

  ‘I’m not talking to anyone from over there,’ Dara said, shaking her head. ‘They had their chance to talk to me and instead they knocked me out.’

  ‘They didn’t understand us then, Dara. That was Anders Blin’s mistake. He’s gone now, and you need to allow us the chance to explain.’

  ‘So it’s “us ” now, is it, Uncle Xani? You’re a Nightperson, too?’

  ‘Dara, you’re being a stupid shi.’ It was the first time Eyna had spoken, and her eyes flashed. ‘There is no “us” and there is no “them”. Not any more. That’s what Uncle Xani’s trying to tell you. We’re all in this together.’

  ‘We need the New Londoners just as much as they need us, Dara,’ Xani added.

  But Dara shook her head again. ‘We were doing just fine until you went and called them in.’

  ‘That wasn’t me, Dara. It was Da Janil.’

  ‘Jaran said …’

  ‘Jaran was wrong. And I let him believe the wrong things.’ Uncle Xani’s eyes dropped. ‘I won’t pretend I didn’t make a lot of mistakes, Dara. We all did. But we need you now, and you need us, too.’

  ‘No.’ Dara turned to walk away, but Ma Saria’s arm reached out and stopped her.

  ‘That’s not the way, girl,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t believe a word he says, Ma,’ Dara replied. ‘I mean, look at him! Look what he’s let them do to him.’

  ‘I can see that, Dara. Doesn’t necessarily mean he’s lying.’

  ‘Da Janil would never …’

  ‘Dara girl, I knew Da Janil for a lot of years, and I knew him better than most people, and I don’t have any trouble believin’ what Uncle Xani says, so neither should you.’

  The old woman and the young girl stood there, eyes locked.

  The last bright wedge of the sun disappeared below the nightwards horizon, leaving the sky bathed in red light, and, almost at the exact moment it vanished, Uncle Xani’s daysuit emitted a soft chime.

  ‘Sunset. The others will be able to come out soon.’

  Dara turned to Xani. ‘And then what?’

  ‘I don’t know what they’ll do. I’d hoped I could convince you to come in with us of your own accord.’

  His words were spoken calmly, but Dara could sense the implied threat.

  ‘I’ve heard enough of this, Ma. Come on.’ She spun on her heel and began to walk away, out into the desert. This time Ma didn’t stop her.

  ‘You won’t be allowed to go, Dara.’ Eyna’s words carried through the still night. ‘They let us come this far because they wanted to understand what we were trying to do. But we’re almost out of time now. You won’t be allowed to run again.’

  ‘Out of time for what?’ Dara turned on her cousin, her eyes blazing.

  ‘To save them,’ Eyna said quietly. ‘Those that are left, anyway.’

  ‘Save them from what?’

  Neither Eyna nor U
ncle Xani answered, and Dara’s question hung in the air for a long time. Atop the wall, the antenna array winked into life, red beacons flickering on and off up and down its entire length, observed by human eyes for the first time in years.

  ‘From ourselves, Dara.’ The voice, so unexpected, so electronically alien, came from the voice synth unit in Xani’s suit helmet, which was still lying on the sand beside him. Feeling rather absurd, they all turned towards it, including it in the conversation.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Dara asked.

  ‘We’ve met. I’m sure you’ll remember me when we can talk face to face in a few minutes.’

  ‘Raj?’

  ‘No.’ The voice took on a slightly apologetic tone. ‘Raj was … reassigned, after your escape. This is Drake.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

  ‘I can understand that, Dara. But I have things to tell you. Things I should have told you before. Would have, if it hadn’t been a breach of protocols.’

  ‘I don’t care about your protocols.’

  ‘All the same, we have to talk. I need to explain things.’

  ‘So talk. I’m listening.’

  ‘Not like this. Not through a com. In person. Face to face.’

  Dara stared at the empty helmet. ‘Will you answer one question for me now?’

  The helmet was silent for a moment before replying. ‘If I can. ‘Was it you that ruined Jaran?’

  No answer.

  ‘Was it you, Drake?’ Dara repeated.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fine, then.’

  Dara turned on her heel and walked into the darkening night. ‘Dara!’ implored Uncle Xani.

  ‘This isn’t the way we want to do things, Dara,’ the helmet’s hollow voice called.

  But this time there was no stopping her.

  They came during the depths of the night, just as Dara had known they would. She didn’t care any more. As the hum of the flyers trembled from the night, Ma Saria woke from her slumber and sat up stiffly.

  ‘That them?’

  ‘Of course,’ Dara answered.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘All around. At least a couple in every direction.’

  As though listening, the desert burst into light as the flyers switched on their nightsuns and caught the two women in their glare. Neither cowered away from the light, but nor did they look upwards, either. Instead they simply stood side by side. Dara felt Ma Saria’s hand wrap around her own.

  DARA!

  As several of the flyers drifted down to the ground, holding Dara and Ma Saria in the centre of a corral of light, the call, more powerful, more insistent than ever before, poured out of the earth and the air and into Dara. Beside her, she felt Ma Saria gasp and stiffen as the old woman was also caught by the enormousness of it.

  DARA!

  Shi, girl. How can you fight that? Ma Saria’s question formed in her consciousness, but it was little more than a mosquito buzz against the throbbing pulse. Dimly, Dara was aware of the touch of the flyers on the earthwarm ground, of the cold, empty figures emerging from the bellies of the insectile machines. Several came across to the two of them, moving as though in a dream or through a fog.

  ‘Dara. Ma Saria. My name is Drake.’

  The lead figure was holding something in his hand, some sort of tech.

  ‘You both have to come with us now.’

  Dara tried to speak, but the voice which answered was Ma’s.

  ‘No.’

  A puff of light, of smoke, and the old woman folded, her connection with Dara vanishing abruptly.

  ‘Ma!’

  But Saria had fallen away, her shell body nothing more than a dark smudge on the sand. The call filled Dara’s whole awareness.

  Drake turned towards her, his hand extended. ‘Dara?’

  DARA! The call thundered into her.

  ‘Are you all right, Dara?’ Even through the fog of earthwarmth, Dara heard the note of uncertainty in the Nightperson’s tinny voice.

  DARA!

  ‘I don’t want to have to tranq you too, but unless you surrender yourself right now …’ He reached out and placed one cold, gloved hand on Dara’s arm.

  DARA!

  Sighing, surrendering, Dara reached.

  And the world exploded.

  Earthwarmth surged, flowing into her, not just from the ground but from the air itself. Every molecule of it pressed against her skin just as every tiny grain of sand thundered below her bare feet.

  Dara reached.

  She reached down, deeper and deeper, through the sunwarm sand, through the clay and the rock, down towards the burning, molten core of the earth itself, to where pulsed the distant heartbeat of liquid rock and stone, eddying to the pulse of the planet as it spun in space.

  She reached out, further and further, past the cold slab of the Darkedge, past the hollow, empty land beyond it, out to the meeting of ocean and earth, and then further still, into the heavy blue water, out, ever out towards the unrolling horizon.

  And she reached up – her brother’s voice ringing in her ears – soaring up through the thick blanket of air that pressed down to the earth, and up into the cold currents of streaming air that tore across the top of the sky.

  Dara reached.

  And Dreamed.

  Around her, the white world was trembling and shaking, the desert tree was no longer twisted and gnarled but growing, pulsing with light and fire, pushing its branches, heavy with bush-apples, up into the white sky and its roots down deep into the white earth.

  The snake and the meatbird burst from its branches, each into their own element, each unspeakably huge, and each now somehow twined with the other; the snake’s back was patterned with glossy black feather-shapes, and the bird had red diamonds blazing on its wings.

  And there were voices, everywhere, everywhen, from the earth and from the sky. Some she recognised – Jaran, Ma Saria – and others she simply knew – ancient voices singing ancient songs.

  Gonna walk my way to the fire in the stones …

  Gonna tread my steps to the valley full of bones…

  Her universe was shaking, trembling, and the white began to break, to crack and shatter and slide away, and Dara wasn’t just touching the Earthmother any longer, not reaching. For one beautiful, blinding instant she was … everything. Earthmother, Skyfather, everything.

  And the snake shivered and the meatbird screamed.

  And everything …

  … Shifted.

  Silence. Cool desert silence. Morning silence.

  Nearby, a coldblood stirred slightly, still torpid and languid from the long night. It shuffled slowly under a small patch of scrub, shifting the dull green branches as it did so.

  Further away, a couple of small rockhoppers twitched at the morning as they grazed, sucking traces of dew off the thorny bush leaves. One of them stopped to stretch towards the low-hanging branches of a desert apple, pulling hard until it was rewarded with a couple of mouthfuls of the dry, bitter fruit.

  And, for the first time in centuries, morning sunlight fell across this particular stretch of desert, rinsing the red earth in warmth and falling across Dara’s face as she lay there, rousing her slightly from her slumber.

  ‘Dara?’

  Her cousin’s voice echoed and pounded.

  ‘Eyna?’

  ‘Hey there, sleepyhead.’

  Dara opened her eyes. Above her, Eyna’s face hovered, uncertainty written across it.

  ‘How’re you feeling?’

  ‘I’m … fine.’ Dara groaned slightly as she sat up. A few metres away, a small fire crackled softly, scenting the morning air with woodsmoke. Nearby, a couple of kitbags were half open on the ground, their contents strewn around.

  ‘Here.’ A water flask was pressed to her lips, and she drank gratefully.

  ‘What’s … happened?’

  ‘You don’t remember?’

  Dara struggled to recall.

  ‘I remember the flyers coming down.’
/>
  Eyna nodded. ‘And then what?’

  ‘Then … nothing really. Where’s Ma?’ Dara twisted suddenly, searching for the old woman, but her cousin placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

  ‘She’s fine. They’re looking after her back at the camp. Or what’s left of it, anyway.’

  ‘What camp? I don’t …’

  ‘Here. Stand up.’ Eyna helped Dara to her feet. ‘Look.’ She pointed daywards, to where the sun was rising, spilling its light over a low range of grey, angular hills.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Right where the flyers found you last night. Nobody knew what to do with you, so I decided it was safest to leave you where you were.’

  ‘Last night?’

  ‘You really don’t remember?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There was … nobody’s quite sure. Drake went to tranq you, but then everything went … well, mad.’

  ‘Mad?’

  ‘There was an earthquake. Lightning. For a few minutes there I thought it was the end of the world.’

  An earthquake. Dara stared again at the odd, low hills.

  ‘Is that the Darkedge?’

  ‘Yeah. They sent flyers out to see how much of it has come down. None have come back yet.’

  ‘Shi!’

  Dara’s legs wobbled under her and she flopped back to the ground, caught and assisted by Eyna.

  ‘Did I do it?’

  Eyna cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘The earthquake, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  The younger girl laughed. ‘I doubt it. You’re pretty strange sometimes, but I don’t think even you could shake the earth like that. The Nightpeople reckon this whole area was unstable to begin with. They said last night was a thousand years in the making.’

  ‘But when Drake tried to grab me …’

  Eyna shrugged. ‘I wasn’t here. They kept me up in one of the flyers, but from what I heard you hit your head pretty badly when you fell.’

  ‘That’s not …’ Dara began, but stopped. She wasn’t sure how, or even if, she could explain it, not even to Eyna.

  ‘Is everyone all right?’

  Eyna looked into the flames of the fire. ‘No. Most of the camp buildings were crushed when the wall came down. Forty or so people in them.’

  ‘They’re dead?’