The Night Land, a Story Retold

by James Stoddard

  At the eighteenth hour, I stopped to rest. As I ate, I studied the Watcher's pitted, humped back. Its vast shoulders rose into the night, black and ravaged, silhouetted against the shining of the Red Pit. Although I could not be certain, I thought its head had returned to its original position. I pondered the way the brute had studied the Great Pyramid through all the eons—steadfast, silent, and alone—beyond mortal comprehension.

  The Vale Of Red Fire ran out of the Red Pit toward the east, a bloody gash across the earth, miles long, much wider than I had ever imagined. I turned back to the north, where I could finally see the beginnings of the Plain Of Blue Fire, which had been hidden behind the glow of the Red Pit during most of my journey. Beyond that, distant volcanoes glowed, and the Seven Lights glistened upon the Black Hills. I shivered as I saw the upper windows of the House of Silence standing on a low hill many miles northeast of my position.

  I ate and rested for a few minutes, and then, unable to sleep until I put further distance between myself and the Watcher, I continued for six more hours, at which time I came to the Place Where The Silent Ones Kill. Since I intended to circumvent that infamous plain, and was half-starved for warmth and light, I set off toward a cluster of distant fire-holes burning to the north.

  Bare rock covered The Place Where The Silent Ones Kill. As I crept through the vegetation bordering its east side, I watched for any sign of a Silent One moving across that quiet, rocky plain. With the exception of the House of Silence, this region terrified me more than anywhere else in the Night Land, and had done so from my earliest childhood. A cold, gray light, diffused and dismal, overspread the whole country. The illumination possessed strange properties, for those who stared into it perceived moving shadows, never clearly seen, always at the edge of perception. Whether this was caused by some atmospheric trait, or by the clouding of human reason, no one knew.

  Because I dreaded this place so, I slid quietly from bush to bush, my eyes fastened on the dim light of the plain to my left. I often thought I glimpsed a Silent One, standing motionless, watching, only in the next instant to see nothing at all.

  As I crept among the moss bushes, I pushed the fronds aside and found myself at the edge of a clearing. From my vantage, I could see the vegetation growing again only a short sprint away, if I dared take the chance. I licked my lips, debating between this and bypassing the empty plain by following the curve of the foliage east for several hours, a course that might take me into even greater danger.

  After searching the plain a long time without seeing any sign of life, I decided to make the run. As I half-rose out of the bushes, it seemed my eyes were suddenly opened to something waiting in the wavering light.

  I dropped back into concealment, cold sweat on my brow, and peered once more between the fronds. Instantly, out of the gray luminance a long line of lofty figures appeared, shrouded from head to foot, facing me in watching silence. I felt naked before their gaze; I knew my death, or worse, had come. My limbs stiffened and would not obey my commands.

  For long moments, I dared not move, as if their eyes pinned me in place. After what seemed an eternity, when the Silent Ones did not approach, I realized I was safe as long as I did not step across the barren plain of their dominion. Mustering my courage, I crawled back through the bushes, and after gaining some distance, began to circle around that country of gray light. I felt no relief until I bypassed the Silent Ones completely and reached a place where I could stand again and travel more easily.

  I pressed on through the twenty-fourth hour, heartsick and homesick, weary beyond hope—gripped by a fear the Silent Ones would send some monster in pursuit—so unnerved that despite my exhaustion, I dared not rest. Only the thought of Naani's last, despairing message drove me on.

  By this time, I was shaking from the cold. The farther I traveled, the deeper the chill seeped into my bones, until I had but one goal, to reach the fire-holes to the north and sleep before their flames.

  As I approached the fires, I rallied somewhat and increased my pace. I drew near enough to the first blaze to see that its light rose out of a deep hollow among the moss bushes, making it what we called a fire-pit rather than a fire-hole. The surrounding vegetation, which was easily five feet high, prevented me from looking down into the hollow.

  Being desperately eager to reach warmth, I traveled with more haste than care and soon reached the top of the pit. The climb proved more difficult than I expected, because the soft ground gave way in places. The bushes grew tallest at the rim, perhaps somehow nourished by the flames. I parted them and looked into the crater.

  A thunderous voice filled the air, deep, husky, and horrid, brimming with an indescribable evil. I drew back, startled, instinctively clutching my ears, every nerve taut, afraid to go forward or back, trembling like a hare caught between musket and hound.

  The voice bellowed again and was answered by another. At first I thought they had seen me, but I soon realized they were conversing among themselves. Their words rose, slow, brutish, and hoarse, from the hollow.

  They spoke a while, then fell into a long silence, during which I considered the best way to escape. I shifted my position carefully, wary of the rustling bushes giving me away. Thinking it better to know my enemies' location before I moved, I parted the fronds the merest inch and peered down into the pit.

  A large flame burned at its center, and scores of holes covered the slopes surrounding the fire. Enormous men lay burrowed in the holes, sleeping with only their heads or legs protruding. Three more giants, each larger than an elephant, with stiff red hair and large festering sores, sat around the flame.

  I had caught them in the middle of skinning the carcass of one of the Night Hounds, but during my brief glimpse, they sat motionless, listening, peering stupidly at the ground, the sharpened, bloody stones in their hands forgotten. Panic filled me, for I knew they suspected my presence. To be seen was to be destroyed. In my haste to withdraw, I loosened a stone; it rattled down the hollow.

  Immediately, the three monsters turned their heads upward. They seemed to stare directly at me through the vegetation.

  I backed away, making even more noise than before, unable to tear my eyes from those of the titans’. Their orbs shone red and green, like the eyes of animals. A roar arose from the pit, a turmoil like the cries of all the devils in hell. The hollow came alive with giants, as the sleepers woke, crawled from their dens, and lumbered up the sides toward me.

  As I retreated, the soft ground gave way beneath me, sending me tumbling into a hole among the bushes. Earth and rock collapsed over me. At first, as sand and ash filled my throat, I tried to scramble out, but then realized I was completely hidden. A bit of air reached me through cracks in the covering stones. I lay still, trying neither to cough nor breathe.

  Monstrous footsteps shook the earth all around. At any moment, I expected my hiding place to collapse, suffocating me, but though the rocks quaked, they held firm. I heard running and shouting all through the night and the sound of bushes being uprooted. Sometimes the giants seemed directly above me, sometimes far away. At last the tumult drifted off to the south.

  I dared not wait too long in the hole, for fear of the titans' return, so when I heard their voices dwindling in the distance, I pushed my way out. That proved a struggle in itself—the weight of the earth was nearly more than I could lift—but I finally pulled myself into the night air, thankful for my salvation, but terrified of being discovered. I crawled through the moss bushes on hands and knees for three long hours, traveling northwest as fast as I could go.

  Exhaustion finally overtook me, and I collapsed among the vegetation into a hard sleep. I had journeyed twenty-seven hours, neither eating nor drinking during the last nine, and I lay there, alone among the bushes and stones, a morsel for any creature that might happen upon me.

  VII

  DOORS IN THE NIGHT

  I woke ten hours later, unharmed but stiff in every joint, nearly frozen from having failed to cover myself with my cl
oak. My stomach ached with hunger.

  Before rising, I pulled myself to a crouch and studied my surroundings until I was certain that nothing stirred. By stamping my feet and swinging my arms back and forth, I soon restored my circulation, then sat down to eat, my cloak about me, my diskos at my hip.

  "A feast," I murmured. "Congratulations, Andros. You have earned four tablets and two cups of water."

  I ate, staring at the Northwest Watcher's back. The lights of the redoubt burned like beacons through the dark. I was so hungry my meager fare seemed a banquet, and despite my aching muscles the meal put me in excellent spirits. The fact I lived at all seemed utterly miraculous, and I rose cheerfully and set out again toward the northwest. So content was I that, to my chagrin, I caught myself whistling unconsciously under my breath, an act I discontinued at once.

  I walked twelve hours, eating and drinking twice during that time, thankful for the surrounding silence which I hoped meant that I would not see any further terrors for at least a few hours. This was a particularly dark part of the Night Land, a bleak country empty of fire, warmth, or vapors, apparently shunned by all life, and I kept my bearings only by watching the cold, distant light of the Plain Of Blue Fire.

  A story persists among the chronicles of the Last Redoubt, a legend handed down through countless generations, believed by all the children and many adults. Those scholars seeking to verify the stories generally accept three first-hand traveler's accounts from the Records. Each describes mysterious Doorways in the Night, ruptures in the ether, opening and closing on horrors beyond mortal comprehension. Most people believed that the Doors were remnants from the days when humans accidentally opened gateways into other planes of existence, allowing the Forces of Evil into the world. The accounts varied in their details, with only one exception: those who survived hearing the phenomenon were convinced their comrades had suffered not only death, but destruction of the spirit.

  My ordeal began when I heard a soft creaking like a door opening, followed by a moaning hum just above my head and slightly to the left. Though quite close, it also seemed to come from a great distance, as if from a realm never meant for human hearing. The sound was unmistakable. I have no way to explain it, except to say it was unlike anything I had ever heard or wanted to hear again, and I knew beyond doubt that this was a Night Door.

  A horror gripped me, akin to the dread I felt before the Silent Ones, but immeasurably different and immensely worse. I instinctively removed my right glove and bared my arm, ready to bite down on the Capsule of Oblivion hidden just below my skin, to take my own life for the sake of my soul. Though I loved my existence, I knew only death could save me if whatever lay beyond the Door chose to strike.

  I dropped to the ground and began crawling toward the right, away from the sound, supporting myself on one hand while keeping the capsule poised close to my jaws.

  Waves of weakness and nausea swept over me, as if an icy wind flowed from the open Door. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, as they had when facing the Northwest Watcher, and my heart throbbed so painfully against my chest I thought it would burst. I kept glancing up over my shoulder, but could not see anything in the absolute darkness.

  The noise abruptly died away, but I crawled for another hour, the capsule ready, my whole body quaking not just from fear, but from my exposure to unearthly Forces. Twice, I became physically sick.

  Finally, my heart slowed and my spirit grew easier, though chills and nausea still wracked my frame. If the Door had opened immediately above me instead of to the side, I would surely have been lost.

  No sooner did I think I was safe than I heard the sound again, far in front of me. I concealed myself as best I could among a few scattered boulders, and made a wide circle to avoid the source. Since I had been straining to listen, I was far away when I heard it, and managed to evade it before it could harm me.

  At the eighteenth hour, I stopped to rest. But when I tried to eat, I gagged and could not keep anything down. I felt unclean, befouled in both body and spirit. I lay down in the hollow of a solitary rock rising above the moss bushes, threw my cloak over me, and fell into a dreadful slumber filled with nightmare shapes and fumbling hands—the kind of dreams normally brought on by fever.

  When I stumbled to my feet six hours later, I felt little rested, but my stomach was better and my strength had returned. Though I still remained in a lightless region, I caught the glimmer of fire-holes to the north, and beyond them, the mysterious shining of the Plain Of Blue Fire. Behind me, for the first time, the Great Pyramid seemed far away. This surprised me, since I had spent the day before crawling through a circuitous route, but I suppose I had reached a point where the sum of my travels affected the redoubt's apparent height. Had I felt better, I would have tried to calculate the effect of distance on perceived size, but even mathematics held no appeal for me just then.

  I wondered if any animals or half-men had ever lived in this part of the Night Land, and if so, whether they had been driven off by the Doorways, the lack of heat, or a combination of the two. Whatever the case, I stayed alert, stopping often to listen for the sound of creaking portals. My vigilance proved futile, however, for I heard a Door opening right behind me, as if I had just passed beneath it. As the portal widened, the buzzing din of the alien eternity lying beyond its threshold increased.

  Perhaps it opened by chance; perhaps my passing disturbed a Force of Evil. Whatever the case, no sooner had I heard the sound than my former weakness returned worse than before. I dropped instantly into a creeping crawl, willing my muscles to press on against the power that sapped my life.

  The moments seemed like hours; I faintly saw my hands moving before me, as if I watched them from a distance. I forgot all about the Capsule of Oblivion; all thoughts except escape—or death—were driven from my mind.

  Eventually I got away, though feeling even more ill than I had before. I have no idea why I was spared, for if it had chosen to take me, I would have been easy prey for whatever stood beyond the Door. Perhaps the Rite of Preparation helped me more than I knew. Whatever the case, I did realize one thing in comparing my encounters with the Doors to my confrontation with the Watcher of the Northwest: despite the horror of the Watcher, its power rose from a cold, calculating intellect. Though it might be able to summon a Force of Evil, it was not, itself, such a Force. But whatever waited behind the Doors possessed the power to enslave the soul.

  I crawled as far away as my strength allowed, my eyes blurring, my whole body aching. When I could no longer continue, I dropped to my stomach and wrapped myself in my cloak. Despite having traveled only a short distance that day, I fell asleep where I lay and did not wake for seven hours.

  ***

  I rose to a throbbing headache, but was able to eat and drink, and soon felt well enough to continue north toward the fire-holes. After the traumas of the previous day, my courage failed me; I jumped at every sound and glanced constantly over my shoulder. At times, my own breathing even startled me. I had fits of trembling.

  After going only a short distance, I thought I heard the sound of another Door. I stopped, hid myself, and listened for a long time, my nerves screaming at me to run away, to avoid encountering that terror again. At last I decided I must have imagined it, for the noise the portals made was as plain as the hiss of a viper—one can fancy a hundred serpents in the Underground Fields, but the sound of a real one is unmistakable. Still, I could not make myself go forward, but lay frozen, unmanned, my mind empty of everything but dread. It took several moments to muster my courage enough to begin crawling again toward a nearby fire-pit.

  After my experience with the giants, I approached the fire cautiously. It lay in a shallow hollow, and I peered through the bushes a long time, making certain it was deserted before I descended. Once down, I sat beside the flames, my back to a tall boulder. The bubbling pit cheered me after my long march through the darkness.

  "Andrew would have liked this," I murmured, as I watched the gases within the pool
build, escape with a soft grumble, then fall silent only to begin building once more. "He loved the things of nature. He would be amazed at all I've seen."

  I picked up a pebble and rolled it in my hands. "How long," I asked the fire, "have you murmured here alone? Half of eternity? Andrew would want to know."

  The blaze turned the sides of the hollow crimson crackling its reply, but I did not understand. The hollow was a lonely place, but I was glad just to sit with my back against the sheltering stone and let the bubbling fire melt the residue of the Doors from my spirit. The rock, which stood like a sentry above me, was hot, and its heat warmed my heart. Because my mind for some reason focused on my former life, I took comfort just then from the borrowed recollections of Andrew’s horses. I thought of noble Battalion, my black stallion: his silken coat and coarse mane, the velvet softness of his nose, the noise of his hooves on English roads, the way he blew and snorted on cold mornings. I could almost smell the scent of him. How Andrew loved that sturdy beast! It was good to think of horses there, amid the desolation.

  After some time, I stirred myself, as one stirs the embers. I ate and drank, and fell asleep where I was. I had walked less than twelve hours since my last slumber, but was exhausted, and dreamed no dreams at all. After so much danger to body and spirit, those few hours of rest were my salvation. Without them, I could not have gone on.

  When I awoke I felt stronger than I had in what seemed many weeks; I rose, prepared my meal, and climbed the far slope of the hollow toward the north. More fire-holes stretched before my path, like a line of torches leading me on to the Plain Of Blue Fire.

  Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but I was convinced I had left the Doorways behind. My heart felt lighter; I remained alert, but no longer glanced constantly over my shoulder. After walking three hours, I drew close to another fire-pit, and being chilled, decided to risk approaching it. I paused at the edge behind the safety of the moss bushes and surveyed the area. A burning jet of gas stood at the pit's center, surrounded by scattered boulders, but the hollow was otherwise empty. I scanned the sides without seeing any cavities a monster could use for a den. After a moment's hesitation, I decided to descend. The sides of the pit were steep, and it took several moments of careful climbing to arrive at the bottom.