Nightpeople

by Anthony Eaton

  ‘You’ve been a good girl. But this land’s got bigger plans for you than just stayin’ here in this valley.’ Ma’s voice was a whisper.

  Saria opened her eyes and looked up at the woman. ‘Will I come back?’

  ‘Don’t know. Wouldn’t think so, but you can’t tell these things. You just be careful, alright? And listen to him over there.’ She nodded at Dariand’s sleeping form. ‘He’s rough, but he’ll do the best he can for you. He’s got a good heart.’

  She stopped her stroking and slowly stood up. The sensation of her fingers in Saria’s hair seemed to last long after Ma finally lay down in her corner of the room.

  Saria lay still in the darkness, wide-awake, listening to the sounds of night from the bush outside. Rolling over, she was surprised at the amount of moonlight coming through the open doorway; the long rectangle of silver cast everything in monochrome hues that seemed to belong to a world different from the one she was so used to. On the other side of the room Dariand was only vaguely discernible as a dark lump beside the door. She knew he was there, though. She could hear his soft breathing and feel his presence, alien and yet strangely at home in this silvery, unfamiliar darkness.

  A wheezy rumbling snore slipped through the silence from Ma’s corner, and Saria closed her eyes, enjoying the sound for the first time ever. It had a gentle familiarity, and softened the strangeness of having the man in the hut. The first waves of sleep began to creep over her. Just as she was slipping completely into its grip, she stiffened.

  Saria!

  The call. The one she had felt earlier through the lizard. Fierce and yet gentle, the summons came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Distant and pleading, it echoed through the earth and straight into her.

  She’d never felt anything like it. Even when she went riding out into the world on the senses of some willing creature, there’d never been anything this strong, this … personal.

  It lasted just a second, shivering up from the ground and sending a tremor through Saria’s thin body.

  Saria!

  The voice was disembodied. A night spirit, there for the briefest of moments and then gone, leaving Saria alone and trembling.

  It was impossible to say what woke her. Some strange rustle or unexpected movement of air, perhaps. Whatever it was, she came awake instantly some time in the small hours of the morning.

  Saria sat, peering around the shadowy interior of the hut. Ma Lee still snored gently in her corner, and everything seemed normal.

  Then she noticed: the man – Dariand – was gone. There was no sign of his sleeping form by the door. No sound of his breathing in the darkness.

  Perhaps he’d changed his mind and gone without her.

  Even as she dimissed the thought, Saria was startled to realise that a tiny part of her was disappointed at the possibility.

  Beyond the open door the dim light of the nightvault beckoned. Usually there was no silent way to creep outside after Ma had put the shutters in place, but not tonight. Saria rose and shrugged on her robe over her skinny shoulders. Then, careful not to disturb Ma, she slipped across the dirt floor through the darkness and stepped into the night.

  After the close atmosphere inside, the air tasted crisp and fresh. Saria stood in the shadows, savouring the feel of it, the slightly damp coolness against her bare arms. The vaultlights were dull, masked by intense moonlight, and not a breath of air moved. Shivering slightly, Saria looked around as her eyes adapted to the light. There was no sign of the man; no footprints in the dirt, no movement in the bushes, nothing.

  Somewhere high up on the nightwards rim a dog howled, its cry reverberating around the ancient stone walls of the valley, and Saria took an involuntary step back. But the sound quickly echoed off into silence again, leaving Saria alone with the regular noises of the night.

  Outside, the noises all seemed somehow more intense. She was used to hearing them from inside the hut, muted by the mud walls and tin shutters. Out here, though, standing in the coolness, her breath fogging slightly, each nocturnal rustle and chirp floated through the still air clearly and insistently. Down by the creek she could hear frogs croaking gently and in the scrub on the far side of the clearing something – a couple of rock-hoppers, perhaps – sent silvery shivers through the bushes as they grazed, hidden in a tangle of shadows.

  Casting a last quick glance back into the dark interior of the hut, Saria picked her way slowly over to where the creek path disappeared between a couple of scrubby bushes. In the dappled moonlight, the path, which was so familiar that during daylight she could follow it with her eyes shut, appeared suddenly foreboding, a trail into the unknown.

  Drawing a shallow breath, Saria stepped into the shadows and scurried towards the creek as quickly as she dared.

  By the water, near where she’d found the lizard, Saria sat and waited, listening for something, anything, that she could reach into and whose senses she could use to find the man and discover where he’d gone. A frog would do the trick, or a rock-hopper, if one came by to drink, though they tended to be more skittery after dark, and much harder to settle into.

  Nothing came, and Saria sat for some time with just the gurgle of the creek for company. Otherwise, everything was silent.

  Too silent, she realised with a jolt.

  There should at least be some noise, some movement. A cicada clicking, or a night bird calling from the trees that lined the creek bed. But there wasn’t even that.

  Standing slowly, Saria carefully examined the small spaces between the bushes, peering as hard as she could into the deep pools of shadow between the trees and the rocks.

  ‘Looking for me?’

  Dariand appeared out of nowhere, materialising from the darkness to be suddenly standing at the edge of the creek, only a few steps from where Saria had been sitting. Startled, she yelped.

  ‘You scared me!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Even in the moonlight she could read his face clearly, the amused twisting at the corners of his mouth suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all. ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Trying to follow me, I’ll bet.’

  ‘No! I was just … looking.’

  ‘Whatever you say, girl.’ The tone of his voice made it clear that he didn’t believe her. ‘You’re your mother’s daughter, alright. I’m glad I found you, though. Saves me going back to the hut.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s time to go.’ Dariand nodded to where the path behind vanished into the night. ‘At least now we won’t have to disturb Ma from her sleep.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘There’s nothing to say, girl. It’s time. Come over here.’

  Without waiting to see if she was going to obey, Dariand crouched and unslung a long, narrow cloth sack that hung across his back, then started rummaging in it.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You can’t travel wearing that robe.’ From the sack he pulled a longer garment, similar to his own, and threw it at her. ‘Put this on. It’ll keep the sun off you during the day, and keep you warmer at night, as well.’

  The robe was too big but Dariand rolled the sleeves and tucked the hem up, pinning it into place with sharpened slithers of bone. Against her bare arms and legs the long robe felt strange, smooth but kind of smothering.

  ‘That’ll do. Now these.’ He pulled from the sack a pair of objects that Saria immediately recognised.

  ‘I don’t want to wear them.’

  ‘You have to. Without them, your feet will suffer. And that’ll slow us down.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’m not going.’

  ‘We’ve been through this already, girl.’ Without giving her a chance to object again, Dariand lifted one of Saria’s feet and slipped the hide bag over it. ‘This isn’t about you, or me. It’s about the whole Darklands.’

  ‘Darklands?’ Saria looked at him, puzzled. ‘What’s that?’

  Dariand was now lacing up the leather thong that he
ld the shoes in place. He didn’t even look up as he answered.

  ‘Everything’s Darklands. As far as you and I are concerned, the whole world is Darklands. You’ll see.’ It took only a couple of minutes until the other shoe was tied securely and he stood again, reslinging the bag across his shoulder.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘I …’ Saria looked back at the path to the hut, and for a moment considered running towards it, fleeing back into the darkness.

  Then the memory of the call, so distant, so commanding, which had flooded her as she was falling asleep, came back.

  ‘This way.’ Dariand turned, hopped across the creek and without waiting vanished into the scrub. Saria had to scurry to follow him.

  He was following an old path up the side of the valley towards the daywards ridge, which for Saria was forbidden territory. Near the water the trees and scrub were so thick that on several occasions the only way Saria managed to follow was by listening for the crunch of the man’s footsteps. As they moved upwards, the scrub and trees became increasingly sparse and Saria soon found herself trotting across open ground in the broad moonlight, following Dariand up the trail.

  Soon they were almost to the rim of the valley and much higher than Saria had ever explored. Some of Ma Lee’s rules she had been happy to break, but the one about never leaving the valley had been drilled into her from a young age, and the thought of venturing beyond those protective ramparts of red stone, especially in the dark, sent shivers through her.

  They climbed steadily until the trees and shrubs ended, leaving only the bare, rocky landscape that formed the upper slopes. Ahead, the rim of the valley hunched low against the sky, dark and menacing. For as long as Saria could remember it had been the edge of her entire world, and the thought of suddenly walking over that barrier filled her with a sudden mixture of dread and anticipation. She stopped, glancing behind to where the valley still slept. Somewhere down there Ma was snoring through the last couple of hours of the night. The lizard she’d reached yesterday was still lying in torpor, waiting for the life-warming sun to stir its blood back into activity, and the creek still burbled over the rocks.

  ‘It’s not your home any more.’ Dariand had stopped just ahead and was watching her. ‘I know what it feels like, trust me, but there’s a lot more out there than this valley.’

  Something in the man’s voice seemed different: a sort of wistfulness that she wouldn’t have expected him to feel.

  ‘It’s been here a long time, though,’ he continued, ‘and it’ll keep going on that way. Even after you and me and Ma are all gone. Come on, now. We’ve gotta keep moving, before we run out of darkness.’

  Saria!

  The call slid silently through her, as if echoing Dariand’s words.

  Saria took one last, lingering gaze at the valley that had been her home, and then, turning her back on it, followed Dariand up the path.

  At the top of the ridge she gasped as the horizons of her world expanded. Land and sky seemed to stretch away forever. The nightvault was peppered with more vaultlights than Saria could have dreamed possible. They shimmered and sparkled, so thick in some places as to lend the nightvault a pale, liquid appearance. Ahead of them, far off, the daywards horizon glowed deep pink.

  ‘We need to move fast. We won’t get far today.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Once the heat gets too great we rest, and travel again in the evening.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  To Saria’s surprise, Dariand pointed behind them, away from the sunrise, back across the valley.

  ‘That way. Nightwards.’

  ‘Then why come up out of the valley this way?’

  ‘This is the only path. Now, stop asking questions. We need to meet Dreamer Gaardi.’

  ‘Why is he coming?’

  ‘It’s always good to have a Dreamer with you when you travel in the Darklands, girl. They understand this place better than anyone.’

  ‘Saria.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My name is Saria. Not “girl”.’

  Dariand smiled a strange half-smile.

  ‘My apologies, Saria.’

  The trail down was narrow and treacherous. It wound slowly around the outer wall, descending into the shadow of the ridge in a long spiral, everything below hidden in darkness.

  ‘What’s down there?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  The land out here was different, even in darkness. It was much drier, less alive than in the valley; there was less scrub and undergrowth and only a few tiny trees. Other hills and crests ranged high around them and Saria could make out hollows and paths between them. Jagged, bald crags, some of which were starting to glow red with the first rays of sunlight, cut into the night. They were more distant than those she had always known.

  ‘Mornin’.’

  Dreamer Gaardi got up from where he’d been perching on a rock by the path. As always Saria was amazed at how old the man looked. His skin was creased and wrinkled and hung from him. His dark eyes, deep-set below a shock of fuzzy white hair, twinkled slightly, even in the dull light.

  ‘Dreamer.’ Dariand nodded at the old man.

  ‘Don’t think we’re gonna get far today, eh?’

  ‘Nah. We’ll go for a couple of hours more, though. Stop somewhere further down in the Shades.’

  ‘Sounds about right to me.’

  The two men followed the trail downwards between sparse patches of scrub.

  The path eventually levelled out deep in the belly of a valley that had been carved into the rock aeons earlier by a creek long since run dry. The ground was still moist, though, and gnarled trees grew along what had once been the creek bed. As the sky grew lighter, the nightvault faded into reds and then blues, Dariand led the way, followed by Dreamer Gaardi, with Saria trailing. The two men walked without talking, the only sound the gentle crunch of their footsteps and the occasional hoot of a nightbird.

  Dariand led them further and further into the shadows of the valley, until he slipped down a small embankment and into the creek bed itself. Dreamer Gaardi leapt down behind him and then turned and caught Saria as she followed.

  ‘Reckon we can go a bit further?’ Dariand didn’t seem to be asking so much as speaking to himself, but Saria noticed he didn’t start walking again until Dreamer Gaardi nodded his consent.

  They wound along the creek, which curved and twisted, constantly doubling back on itself. Underfoot, the ground was different from the rough scree of the mountain. Here they walked on stones, some as big as Saria’s fist, but most no larger than her little finger. All were rounded and worn smooth from the passage of ancient water. Eventually the sun managed to climb above the peaks of the surrounding hills and the morning grew warmer. Dariand stopped.

  ‘We’ll rest there.’

  They followed him to the shade of a small clump of gums which clung to the red stone a metre or so higher than the creek bed. There he drew a long draught from a water-skin and threw it to Saria.

  ‘Drink.’

  Removing the stopper, Saria copied Dariand, squirting a blast of water into her mouth. It was slightly warm and tasted vaguely dirty, but she felt her thirst subside.

  ‘Good girl.’ He lay down on a patch of sand, tucked his robes around him, and looked up at the sky. ‘We’ve got a long, long journey ahead of us, Saria.’

  ‘You mean to Woormra?’

  ‘No, but that too.’ She thought he was about to say something more, but he closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep almost immediately. Saria watched him for a few minutes, then looked across to where Dreamer Gaardi had similarly settled. The old man was still awake and when he noticed her staring his weathered face crinkled into a smile.

  ‘You all set to go home then, girl?’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Back to Woormra. Where you come from.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Yeah, I can understand that, but you gotta, you know? A lot of people have had their ho
pes pinned on you for a long time now, so you come to Woormra and that’ll be the start of it.’

  Saria tried to recall if she’d ever heard Dreamer Gaardi speak this much before.

  ‘The start of what?’

  ‘A lot of things. It might even be the end of the Darklands, eh? All ‘cause of you.’

  ‘What do you mean? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know, girl. But you will, don’t worry. You’re gonna do and see things that the rest of us poor bastards never dreamed about. You’re going to know big secrets.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘You got no choice. It’s in you, eh? Happening already, I imagine. You got a good landsense. I can feel it and there’s not many people got that nowdays. He does, though.’ The old man nodded at the sleeping Dariand.

  ‘I don’t trust him.’

  The old man’s smile crinkled even wider.

  ‘You don’t have to trust him, girl. But don’t you underestimate him, either. He’s tied to you by powers older and stronger than either of us. He’ll always find you – can’t help himself. Wherever you go, wherever you hide, whatever you do, that bloke there is the only one in all the Darklands who’ll always be able to track you down.’

  She settled herself on a sandy patch of ground, trying to make sense of the old man’s words, but all they did was send a cold shiver down her back.

  Under the moonlight the landscape changed, flattening and broadening. The clumps of bush became more sporadic until, sometime in the early hours, the three of them paused at the edge of a great, flat, treeless expanse which shimmered in the vaultlights.

  ‘Can we stop for a bit?’

  Since waking, Dariand had marched them steadily nightwards, never breaking stride, and Saria’s feet and legs ached.

  ‘No. We need to be across Silver Lake before dawn.’