From the moment I heard the voice, I began planning such a journey. Everywhere I went, I listened for that quiet calling. Twice, I sent the Master Word throbbing solemnly through the everlasting darkness, though I dared not do so any more than that without further information, for we did not use the Word lightly. However, I often projected my thoughts outward, crying Mirdath's name. Sometimes I thought I heard a feeble thrilling of the ether, a whisper so faint even my Night Hearing could not catch its meaning, either sent by one with a weakened spirit or by an Instrument powered by insufficient Earth Current. This continued for many days, leaving me anxious from constant listening.
One day, as I stood by the Instruments in the Tower of Observation, the ether stirred around me. I instantly made the Sign for Silence, and the Monstruwacans throughout the tower emptied their minds of all thoughts, bowed over their breathing bells, and stood motionless.
The gentle thrilling returned, breaking into a clear, low message. Andrew!
Hearing my ancient name shook my soul, leaving me trembling with excitement. I replied with the Master Word, sending the ether rippling with the force of my response. A long silence ensued.
Finally, I discerned a calling so faint even the Instruments could not have detected it, followed by the heavy, throbbing reply of the Master Word. I hurried to the Instruments and used them to accentuate my own powers of thought. Mirdath.
Andrew, the night replied. I could scarcely breathe. To steady my emotions, I took deep swallows of air from a breathing bell. As soon as I had composed myself, I remembered those about me—and with the link fully established—signaled the Monstruwacans to return to their duties so the Records would not lapse.
Beside me stood the Master Monstruwacan, quiet as any apprentice, waiting with slips to make notes, keeping a strict eye upon his assistants to prevent anyone from disturbing my concentration. For a precious hour, I spoke with that woman out in the darkness of the world, who knew my name from ages past.
Are you really Mirdath? I sent into the night.
A brief silence followed, as if she collected her thoughts, but her reply nearly broke my heart. My true name is Naani.
For an instant I could not think of a reply. But you called me Andrew! I finally protested.
As a child I read a book that is very dear to me, the story of two lovers, Mirdath and Andrew. When I first called and you replied with her name, I thought it might be some sort of test, and answered like the woman in the book.
For a moment, a haze of sorrow blinded me; all my hopes were dashed and my ancient love forever lost. Yet, I was puzzled as well. Although all the history of love is written by one pen, it seemed an enormous coincidence that Naani's book should mention Mirdath and Andrew, names unfamiliar to that age. More than that, amid my pain, Naani renewed my hope, for she replied, almost wistfully, Somehow, I thought your voice would be deeper.
Why would you expect it to be?
I sensed bewilderment from her. I don't know. I wonder now why I said it.
Perhaps the man in the book was described as having a deep voice.
I don't think so, she said. It was a foolish comment, for which I ask your pardon.
I did not reply at once, but my hopes were raised, for in the ancient days I possessed an extremely low voice. Further questioning only confused her more, and I soon let the matter rest.
Although it shows how much my soul longed for my lost love, it was strange for us to talk about so trivial a subject when our communication represented the breaking of as much as a million years of silence. Already, the news was being relayed from city to city throughout the pyramid by way of the Hour Slips, a sort of paperless printing press with the daily tidings appearing on enormous crystals scattered throughout the cities. My contact with Naani filled the accounts, with every inhabitant anxious to learn more. The authorities had suppressed the news of her first brief message, dismissing it as the delusion of an imaginative young man—no doubt my tales of the sunlit days made many think I suffered from hallucinations—but with the Instruments confirming the communication, there could be no question. In that one moment I became more renowned than in all my life before.
Naani and I spoke a long time, and her words verified the accounts of some of our most ancient Records. She told of dwelling in a three-sided pyramid, a mile in height and three-quarters of a mile along its bases, built, according to her people’s accounts, upon the shores of an enormous sea whose waters had long since evaporated. Her nomad ancestors had raised the pyramid in the twilight of the ancient world to escape the predations of the growing tribes of half-human monsters. The man who had designed her redoubt, and who led a group of four million to construct it, had once lived in the Great Pyramid, but had been exiled after rebelling against the authorities of the lowest city. The construction took many years, the builders living together in a camp and keeping continuous watch against assailants. They tunneled miles beneath the surface to tap the Earth Current, raised the pyramid, built Instruments, ordained Monstruwacans, and for many generations communicated every day with our own citadel. Even though her people had not spoken to us for generations, they still called their pyramid the Lesser Redoubt.
Eventually, their Earth Current began to fail, causing us to lose contact when they could no longer power their Instruments. Hundreds of generations passed in silence, while the Earth Current continued to fade. As it deteriorated, their numbers dwindled.
I interrupted her at this point: Even without your Instruments, some must have been born with the Night Hearing. According to our Records, we have heard the Master Word at various times. That, more than anything else, kept the reports of a second pyramid alive.
She explained that the Master Word was agreed upon and made holy between the two redoubts during the early days, and some of her people had indeed possessed the Night Hearing, but because of the weakening of the Earth Current, which caused their population to diminish to less than ten thousand over the centuries, none had been born with the gift for a hundred thousand years. This had changed in the last two decades, when the current unexpectedly increased. As a result, their young people had ceased growing old before their time and their birth-rate had risen.
This all happened about the time I was born, Naani said. I am the daughter of the Master Monstruwacan, and as I grew older, my father realized I possessed the Night Hearing. When the people learned of my power, a new interest arose in the ancient, forgotten Instruments, and we searched until we found the plans to restore them to order. We prepared an Instrument, and I was given the honor of being the first to call across the darkness, to discover if any other members of our race still lived.
She paused, and I sensed her trying to contain her emotions. The first time I called, there was a multitude gathered around me. No sooner did I send out my thoughts than I heard the Master Word. When I reported this to the others, some wept, some dropped to their knees in prayer, and some stood silent, but all urged me to continue. I spoke the Master Word and heard you respond using the name of Mirdath, but when I tried to answer, the Instrument failed.
We worked frantically to restore its power, but it took us several days. During that time I discovered I could hear the Master Word surrounding me sometimes, even without the help of our machines, but I lacked the ability to answer. The name you used reminded me of the book, so I found the volume and read it over and over. I seem to be drawn to it, though reading it fills my soul with a strange melancholy.
Perhaps because you find it familiar?
I do not know. I contacted you again after we repaired the Instrument.
I pondered all she had said, and remembering how I had often heard a vague stirring of the ether, knew it must have been Naani using her untrained mind.
We spoke a great while, and many times in the following days, concerning our lives within the two redoubts. After so long a separation, our cultures were similar in many ways, but quite different in others. Food was scarce in the Lesser Redoubt, though Naani's people ha
d not realized it until the revival of the Earth Current partially restored their appetites and vitality. Our men of learning understood how the soil could lose its nutrients, and we recommended various methods to accelerate the restoration process.
As might be imagined, the story of our conversations, along with countless comments, were published in the Hour Slips. The libraries brimmed with people pouring through ancient Records that had been either forgotten or disbelieved for centuries. I was so besieged with questions from the curious that if I had answered them all I could not have found time to sleep. Endless stories were written about me, most of which I ignored. Of what I did read, much was pleasant, but some was so absurd it angered me.
I suppose if my work had not kept me so busy, such recognition might have made me vain, but I was always occupied either listening for, or speaking to, the Lesser Redoubt. If anyone noticed me standing in communication, they plagued me with questions, so I spent most of my time within the Tower of Observation, where the Master Monstruwacan maintained a strict discipline.
In the days following our first communication, an ancient and evil deception soon resumed, in the form of calls for assistance from ones claiming that the Lesser Redoubt had fallen into danger. When I replied with the Master Word, I invariably received no answer, and when the Lesser Redoubt heard my transmission and contacted us, they always contradicted the false reports. By this, we knew the monsters and Forces of Evil were aware of our contact with the Lesser Redoubt and sought to trick us into leaving our sanctuary. Such deceptions were familiar to us, but they now became more frequent. If not for the sure test of the Master Word, which was too holy for the Forces of Evil to utter, many of us would doubtless have been lured to our destruction.
If anyone from our present century ever reads my narrative, it should show them something of the terror of that time and give them a quiet gratitude to God that we do not suffer as humanity shall yet suffer. Of course, the people of the pyramids, to whom it was the normal way of life, did not think of it as suffering, and I have come to realize that mankind is capable of persevering, and of even learning wisdom, in the most desperate of circumstances.
***
Through all the Night Land the monsters and Forces began to awaken; the Instruments constantly registered increased levels of power at work in the darkness, and the Monstruwacans kept an unceasing vigil, lest any movement go unrecorded. A sense of change, of wonders abroad and wonders to come, filled the whole country. Cartesius, as excited as a boy, scarcely slept at all, and could be seen at any hour hurrying from Instrument to Instrument, eyes glittering.
From The Country Of The Great Laughter, the Laughter sounded incessantly, like murderous, heart-shaking thunder rolling over the lands out of the unknown east. The Pit Of The Red Smoke filled all the Deep Valley with crimson, the haze rising above the edge and hiding the bases of the Towers upon the far side. Around the Kilns to the east the giants gathered, and enormous balls of fire erupted from the tops of the Kilns themselves. From the Mountain Of The Voice, which I have not mentioned before, but which stood southeast of the Southeast Watcher, I heard the calling of the Voice for the first time in my life. Though the Records mentioned it, it had seldom been heard through the ages. It was shrill—strange and distressful and horrible all at once—as though an enormous woman, filled with an unnatural hunger, shrieked across the night. As with everything else outside the shelter, we had no way of knowing the meaning of all this activity, but it made us uneasy. In my few hours of leisure I consoled myself by working problems out of Ayleos' Mathematics. Only my beloved geometry drowned out the sounds of the Laughter and the Voice.
Other ploys were used to entice us into the Night Land, as when a call warned that a band of humans, faint with hunger and in need of aid, had escaped from the Lesser Redoubt and were approaching. Again, the creatures failed to respond to the Master Word. This came as a great relief, for until we knew it was a false message, it filled us with anxiety.
I spoke with Naani at all hours. I soon taught her how to send her thoughts without the use of the Instruments, though I was careful not to allow her to exhaust herself by overusing the power. Because her health, like that of all her people, was deficient, her messages remained faint except when she used the Instruments. Apart from this, her Night Hearing was keen, and I suspected it might someday exceed my own.
Through our many hours of conversation, our spirits drew ever closer, and though we seldom spoke of it, we both shared a deep sense of familiarity, as if we had always known one another. And this, as might be imagined, thrilled my heart.
IV
THE EXPEDITION
One night, toward the end of the sixteenth hour, when I had nearly fallen asleep, the ether stirred and Naani's voice sounded so clearly I thought she must be using the Instruments to amplify her thoughts.
What's wrong? I asked, for the hour was late. Has something happened?
She ignored my question, but her words set my soul trembling.
Dearest, thine own feet tread the world at night—
Treading, as moon-flakes step across the dark—
Kissing the very dew to holier light . . .
Thy voice a song past mountains, which to hark
Frightens my soul with a lost delight.
I was dreadfully startled, for I recognized the words as a poem I had written to Mirdath after her death. My thoughts churned; the strength poured from my limbs. At last I managed a stammered reply: Where did you learn those lines?
She did not respond except to repeat the verses across the long dark of the world, but I knew beyond doubt that she must be my lost love.
"Mirdath!" I cried her name aloud even as I sent it with all the force of my mind. I gasped for breath and called her over and over, but the voice that was both Naani's and Mirdath's only repeated the poem again and again. The eeriness of it soon left me disquieted; I began to wonder if I were listening not to a human, but to a ghost speaking from heaven.
Her voice gradually faded to spectral silence, and though I called for many hours, she did not answer. At last, exhausted, I threw myself on my bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
When I woke, I could not understand what had happened except to believe that after her death Mirdath's spirit had watched me write the poem. Overcome by the implications, I began trembling again. As soon as I regained my composure, I called Naani three times in succession, and the throbbing of the Master Word soon surrounded me.
Here I am Naani said, her voice weak as always unless she used the Instruments. If she had not utilized them the night before, her Night Hearing was surely far more powerful than she realized.
Where did you hear the poem you quoted me last night?
What poem?
I faltered, surprised by her response. You called me in the Hours of Sleep. You kept repeating the same lines over and over.
Did I give the Master Word?
No. But the things you said . . . My thoughts drifted away in perplexity.
I slept through the night, she said, though I did have a strange dream about a poem and a tall, dark-haired man dressed in ludicrous clothing. I started to laugh at him, until I saw how sad he looked. Then I pitied him and drew forward to comfort him, but he ignored me. Using an odd writing instrument, he began jotting down a poem, and even though I didn't know the language in which he wrote, I understood its meaning. When I awoke, I had forgotten all the verses except for the first line with Mirdath written above it. I suppose I dreamed the name because you used it when you first called me.
Tell me what the line said, I ordered, scarcely able to control my excitement.
Dearest, thine own feet tread the world at night, she said, but that is all I recall.
It was enough; and with a burning in my soul, I blurted, Treading, as moon-flakes step across the dark.
I heard her mental gasp and sensed her shock even through the distance. Phrase by phrase I finished the remainder of the verse, and as each line beat against her spirit I
sensed it rousing her memory with the violence of a blow. The impact of so many recollections left her speechless for several moments, but at last her voice swirled all around me, halting and thick with emotion.
Is it true? Am I Mirdath? Am I truly she, Andrew?
Her use of my old, familiar name wrenched a cry from my throat. The blood pounded in my ears; my concentration failed and I could scarcely reply.
You are my Mirdath, I finally managed. My Mirdath.
And you, she said, with a tone of finality, are my Hercules, my circus strongman.
I broke into tears. I am not ashamed of it; it had been so long since she left me. We wept together, our joy and sorrow intermingled, our spirits finally meeting across the everlasting night. We spoke of all that had been, slowly at first, then with gathering fervor, until the memories came rolling over both of us, making our time as Mirdath and Andrew seem like only yesterday.
***
Once we knew we had once been husband and wife, Naani and I longed to see each another again, a desire that nearly drove me to despair. Our situation seemed impossible, for none of the scholars in the Great Pyramid knew the position of the Lesser Redoubt, and the Records held only vague references suggesting that it lay somewhere between the northwest and northeast. Nor were we able to find anything to tell us the distance between the two structures. Beyond even these obstacles, there remained the peril of the Night Land and the desolation of the Unknown Lands beyond.
The Night Land, a Story Retold Page 5