Nightpeople

by Anthony Eaton

  The sun had only recently dropped below the nightwards horizon, and all around them the plains were cooling. Even through her shoes the afterglow of earthwarmth from dirt baked all day in the sun tingled faintly through the soles of Saria’s feet.

  Saria!

  As always, the call was unexpected and powerful. This time, though, it had something new – direction.

  SARIA!

  From somewhere over the nightwards horizon ahead, the summons echoed through the earth and, gasping, unable to stop herself, Saria half stumbled a couple of running steps towards it. The strength of it flowing into her drawing her towards it.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  Dariand and Dreamer Gaardi were both regarding her with mildly concerned expressions.

  ‘I’m … fine. Did you hear something?’

  ‘No.’ The two men exchanged a quick glance. ‘What?’ asked Dreamer Gaardi.

  ‘Nothing.’ Saria shook her head, dispelling the lingering vestiges of the call. ‘Nothing. I just thought I heard something. Don’t worry, I’m fine … Really.’

  Neither man said anything more, but she noted that as they continued on into the evening the two men were careful to always keep her between them, one of them never more than a couple of steps away.

  As they walked, Dreamer Gaardi began to sing. Occasionally, back in the valley, Ma used to sing as she worked in the garden, but nothing like this. Ma’s voice was cracked and thin, as though she was singing through her nose, whereas Dreamer Gaardi’s was low. He sang softly but the sound filled the night and on the really low notes his voice resonated through the still air so much that Saria could almost feel the words through her skin. The song was slow and simple, just one verse and a few notes, repeated over and over:

  Gonna walk my way to the fire in the stones

  Gonna tread my steps through the valley full of bones

  Gonna listen when the Earthmother whispers in my head

  Gonna cry the land a creek

  Gonna walk until I’m dead.

  There was a strange hypnotic quality to the music, and when the old man stopped Saria noticed that all three of them had allowed their footsteps to fall into the rhythm of it.

  ‘What was that song?’

  ‘Just an old tune we used to sing when we were kids. A long time ago now. I reckon my mother must have taught it to me.’ Dreamer Gaardi paused, thinking. ‘I haven’t thought about it for years. Wonder why it comes back now, eh?’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Mean?’ He looked puzzled. ‘Nothin’, as far as I know. It’s just an old children’s song.’

  ‘Older than me, that’s for sure,’ Dariand interjected. ‘I’ve never heard it before.’

  ‘It must mean something,’ Saria insisted. ‘Where’s the valley full of bones?’

  ‘If there is one, it isn’t in the Darklands,’ Dariand answered.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’m a nightwalker. If there was something like that anywhere around, I’d know about it.’

  ‘Really?’ Saria looked at him skeptically. ‘You’ve been everywhere in the Darklands?’

  ‘Pretty much. At least, everywhere people know about, and quite a few places they don’t.’

  ‘What sort of places?’

  ‘Ma’s valley for one. The soak for another.’

  ‘The soak?’

  ‘You’ll see tomorrow.’

  They lapsed into silence again while Dariand glanced up at the vaultlights, which he used to correct their course slightly.

  ‘We should come across the road again soon.’

  ‘What’s a road?’

  ‘Remember those flat black rocks we followed across the landbridge?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That.’

  Sure enough, only a little while later they intersected another of the black stone strips. Dariand turned them onto it, and they followed it nightwards.

  ‘Will this take us to Woormra?’ Saria asked.

  ‘Eventually. There are shorter ways, though. We’ll only follow it for a while tonight.’

  ‘What made it?’

  ‘Old people.’

  ‘Like Dreamer Gaardi?’

  Both men laughed.

  ‘Nah, girl. Even older than me. These roads come from before the Shifting. Made by the people who lived here before us.’

  ‘Other people lived here?’

  ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘What happened to them?’

  Saria caught the uneasy glance that Dariand threw at Dreamer Gaardi.

  ‘Nobody knows. There’s a lotta old stories, but it’s impossible to know what’s true and what’s made up. Dreamer Wanji can probably tell you some more when we get to Woormra, but until …’ Dariand broke off in mid-sentence, then suddenly grabbed Saria’s arm and dashed away from the road, running fast.

  ‘What …’

  ‘Quiet! Run!’ he hissed.

  Saria half-ran, half-stumbed behind him, aware of Dreamer Gaardi following them closely. Then, over the thud of their footsteps, she caught a slight, low-pitched humming which trembled through the night.

  They came to a small, rocky hollow in the ground and Dariand unceremoniously flung her into it.

  ‘Get in and keep your head down!’

  She didn’t argue. The humming was rising in pitch and becoming louder. Dreamer Gaardi flung himself beside her and immediately began scraping sand over himself, signalling to her to do the same.

  Dariand had vanished into the night, but suddenly he returned dragging an uprooted clump of spiny desert grass behind him, covering their tracks.

  ‘Get under this!’

  He heaved the clump into the hollow and Dreamer Gaardi immediately arranged it above, hiding them from view.

  Sand slithered like cold fingers into her robe and shoes, making her shiver.

  ‘Gotta be still, girl. Real still, okay?’ Dreamer Gaardi’s voice was a whisper His free arm snaked around her shoulders, drawing her as close as he could without disturbing her sandy covering.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Nightpeople. Quiet, now.’

  The humming was loud enough to hurt her ears; high-pitched, it vibrated into the earth and Saria could feel it through the sand.

  Between the wiry leaves of the desert grass she could see only darkness and the occasional glimmer of a vaultlight.

  ‘Where’s Dariand?’

  ‘Shh, girl, he’ll be fine. He’s like a rock, that one.’

  A bright flash flickered across the landscape, momentarily blinding her.

  ‘Nightsun. Stay still, now.’ The old man’s thin arm tightened around her and Saria held her breath, waiting …

  Abruptly, the intensity of the noise dropped and the high-pitched screaming faded from it. She felt Dreamer Gaardi relax.

  ‘Don’t move yet, girl. Wait.’

  Gradually the noise grew faint, but they lay in the hollow until the grass clump was jerked from over them.

  ‘Right.’ Dariand towered above. ‘All clear.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Nightpeople. Just a patrol along the road. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Why’d we have to hide from them, then?’ Saria asked. ‘Who are they?’

  Another uncomfortable look passed between the two men. After what had just happened both knew they owed her an answer. Eventually, Dreamer Gaardi spoke.

  ‘Ever since there’s been the Darklands, there’s been Nightpeople. There are old stories saying they’re descendants of the Skypeople, who came to this land before the Shifting, but nobody really knows who they are or what they want.’

  ‘What’s that noise they make?’

  ‘That’s not them. That’s their hummers. They use them to fly through the nightvault like birds.’

  Saria digested this information for a couple of moments. People who could fly!

  ‘What do they look like?’

  ‘Never seen one myself. Dariand has, though.’r />
  Saria looked at Dariand expectantly but was met with only a long silence. His eyes narrowed.

  ‘We shouldn’t be tellin’ her this stuff.’

  ‘Nah, it’s alright,’ Dreamer Gaardi replied. ‘She’s better off knowing a bit about them. Especially if we’re gonna keep hiding from them between here and Woormra. Dreamer Wanji won’t mind if we explain.’

  ‘When did you see them?’ Saria demanded.

  ‘They used to come down all the time. Whenever there was a birth, or to take water, or even sometimes just to take dirt. Mainly for births, though.’

  ‘Births?’

  ‘Whenever a child came along, it was a fair bet the Nightpeople would be there soon after. If the child was clean, they’d take it away. Its mother, too. It’s one of the reasons that there aren’t any kids like you left.’

  ‘Clean?’

  ‘Like you. Complete. All your arms and legs, a normal face. It used to be that even if a Darkland woman could get with a baby, chances were when it came out there’d be something wrong – missing an arm, or an eye or something. And when they came out perfect, the Nightpeople’d take them quick smart.’

  ‘Why? And why didn’t they take me?’

  ‘We don’t know why they take them. And they didn’t get you because I sneaked you out of Woormra after you were born. Took you to the valley so Ma Lee could keep you outa the way.’

  ‘They didn’t chase you?’

  ‘They didn’t know you were alive. Dreamer Wanji fooled them. Made them think you’d been born dead and’ – he hesitated – ‘impure. Like all the others.’

  ‘That was the night you saw one?’

  ‘No, not that night. That was later. Mostly they stopped coming after you were born. Stopped bringing their hummers down onto the land, and apart from patrols like that one along the road, they’ve kept to themselves ever since. Except for one. There was one who used to come down all the time, asking about you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I think it suspected you were still alive. Used to stop in the towns, asking questions. Stopped me once while I was on my way back to Woormra from a hunting trip.’ Dariand gave a low chuckle. ‘It never did find out anything, though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because as far as most Darklanders know, you were born dead. So that’s what they told it.’

  ‘Why would they think that?’

  Dariand made a noncommittal gesture.

  ‘Dreamer Wanji didn’t want you being common knowledge, so he let everyone think the same thing. What folk didn’t know, they couldn’t tell, he figured.’

  ‘So if I got killed now, nobody would care?’

  ‘Nobody would know. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t care. If people knew about you, they’d care a lot, you’ll find. Probably too much.’

  Suddenly, Saria felt small, insignificant. She should have been told this before Dariand had dragged her away from the Valley. Before she could object, though, Dreamer Gaardi interjected.

  ‘Listen, girl,’ he said, ‘Dreamer Wanji and Dariand did the right thing when they took you off. Whatever happens to you will touch everyone in the Darklands, right? Every man, every woman. That’s why they did what they did. To give you a chance.’

  ‘Then why didn’t anyone ever tell me about it? Ma could’ve …’

  ‘It wasn’t Ma’s place,’ Dariand snapped. ‘Just like it’s not your place to ask questions. When we get to Woormra, Dreamer Wanji will tell you everything he thinks you need to know. For the moment, though, you just have to keep walking, and trust Dreamer Gaardi and me.’

  ‘Why? So you can tell me about my life only when it suits you? Why should I trust you again ever?’ Saria spat the words.

  ‘You don’t have much choice,’ he replied coldly. ‘Now let’s get moving.’

  He picked up his water-skins and led them back to and straight over the crumbling road.

  ‘It’s probably safer to stay away from this now, if there are patrols about,’ he said to Dreamer Gaardi.

  Halfway across the road, Saria stopped and picked up a small rock. Like the one from the causeway, it was completely flat on one side and slightly soft to the touch. Holding it to her nose, she breathed its faint bitter odour.

  No further patrols crossed their path and in the early dawn Dariand studied the remaining few vaultlights, then altered their course slightly.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Not far now. There’s water and a place to rest.’ They were the first words he’d spoken since their argument, and he was still clearly annoyed. Soon after, he led them down a rocky slope into a hollow depression. The sandy bottom was shaded by small trees and shrubs.

  ‘What is this place?’

  ‘It’s called the soak. It means we’re about halfway to Woormra. We’ll rest here today.’

  Dariand threw his water-skins and the small pouch he kept slung around his waist down in the shade.

  ‘Go and find some dry twigs and we’ll make a fire,’ he ordered Saria.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Dreamer Gaardi and I are going to get water and catch something to eat.’

  ‘Can I come?’

  ‘No. Get the twigs, bring them back, then wait right here for us. Don’t go anywhere else. You’ll find enough wood for the fire in that clump of scrub there.’

  His tone made it clear that this was a command, not advice, and Saria bristled. She considered arguing but she was too tired; instead she whirled and stalked over to the brush. She knew his real reason for not letting her go with him: he didn’t want her to be able to find food and drink for herself. As long as he kept her dependent on him, he could be reasonably sure that she wouldn’t run.

  But he doesn’t know I can reach animals, she reminded herself. And animals can always find food and water. So I’m not as powerless as he thinks. Or as useless. I don’t have to follow him, not if I don’t want to.

  She clung to that thought. It fuelled her anger and also gave her a tiny bit of hope.

  As Dariand had said, there were plenty of dry leaves and sticks beneath the bushes and she gathered them angrily, dropping them in a pile near their gear.

  The two men would be gone for some time, and Saria slumped onto the sand to wait. She lay back and listened to the clicks and buzzes of insects. She was tired and wanted to sleep, but even the soporific effect of the morning sun couldn’t wash away the nagging feeling of powerlessness that kept returning to niggle at her, expecially when she thought of Dariand.

  Saria!

  The call was just as strong, just as intense as ever, but this time it didn’t catch her by surprise; it was almost as though she’d been expecting it. It swept through her with all its usual summoning power, but now she noticed it had a soothing quality as well. It helped her to push her annoyance with Dariand to the back of her mind, and to give in to the wash of earthwarmth flowing through her.

  Then it faded, draining her anger with it, leaving her with only tiredness and aching muscles. She was asleep in seconds.

  The afternoon sun reached between the branches and shone directly into Saria’s face waking her. She sat up slowly. Dariand and Dreamer Gaardi were both still asleep nearby, and she rubbed at her eyes, trying to dislodge some of the grittiness.

  A couple of water-skins lay among their provisions. The sun had warmed it to the temperature of blood, and the water had a strange woody taste, but it wet her lips and tongue and relieved a little of the dryness. A few scraps of meat had been set aside on a piece of bark, clearly for her to have when she woke. She picked one up and chewed at it absently, looking around at the same time.

  In the early afternoon the soak was silent; any living creatures there were clearly sleeping, just like the two men.

  Saria rose and climbed the slope up to the plains. It took only a few moments to pick her way to the top. From there, the Darklands stretched away, seemingly endless and largely featureless. Under the shimmering dayvault, the whole landscape quivered and
blured. It was dizzying, the size of the land. After a childhood spent confined within the protective walls of the valley, being alone on the edge of such an expanse of nothingness left her unsettled and vertiginous.

  After a short while she had to turn away and was about to clamber back down into the soak when something caught her eye.

  Smoke.

  Just over the daywards horizon, a thin column of smoke smudged the air, barely more than a grey thread against the enormous blue. Shielding her eyes, Saria tried to make it out more clearly, but in the haze along the horizon it remained vague.

  Saria hesitated, remembering the fire that Dariand had produced from stones the previous day. If he could do that, surely other people could too and apart from Olympic this smoke was the first sign she’d seen of other people in the Darklands. Her immediate impulse was to rush back down out of sight, into the relative safety of the soak, and to wake Dariand. But she didn’t. Instead, she studied the column.

  It didn’t look all that far away. It was hard to be certain, but the horizon seemed close and the smoke only just the other side of it. If there were people there, it would be good to show Dariand that she wasn’t as helpless as he might like. Saria imagined his expression if she woke him, not simply with a tale of smoke over the daywards horizon but with knowledge of who was making it and how many people.

  All she’d have to do would be to get a little closer, find a lizard or something, and reach. Most wild creatures’ senses extended far beyond that of humans. The people at the fire would never even know she was there. Just like at Olympic.

  She studied the smoke again, more thoughtfully now. It was probably no more than a quick walk away. If she went to investigate it alone, Dariand would be angry, that was certain. But it would also show him that she wasn’t just some girl to be bossed around. It would prove to him that she had skills and powers of her own. It might even persuade him to trust her for a while – to tell her something of what was in store for her when they reached Woormra. In that moment, she made her decision.

  Slipping back down into the soak, she looked again at the two sleeping men. The sun was still high – they’d sleep for hours yet.

  Taking a water-skin, she started back towards the scree, then, remembering, returned to slip her shoes on. The laces gave her some difficulty. Every time she tried to knot the leather thonging it either came undone right away or fell loose around her ankles the moment she stood up. Eventually she managed a couple of awkward knots that held the leather pouches in place.