‘You’re a Dreamer.’ He said the words as though he didn’t really believe them, as though he was trying to convince himself of their truth. ‘A real bloody Dreamer.’
‘So?’
‘So there’s a lotta stuff I’m gonna have to teach you, Saria.’ Dreamer Wanji threw some more clumps of dried dung onto the fire, which grew briefly dull until the fresh fuel ignited and began to smoulder. ‘You’ll need to know how to control it. How to use it properly, how to reach.’
‘I can already do all that.’
‘Nah,’ Dreamer Wanji told her. ‘I talked to Dreamer Gaardi while you were asleep. He told me ‘bout you and that little fella insect out in the dunes. That’s pretty bloody amazing, true, but there’s a lot more to reachin’ than just borrowing from animals. What you got is power that you ‘ent been taught to use. But if you learn to channel it, control it, then you can talk to the Earthmother herself. That’s what I gotta teach you.’
The thought of having power, real power like Dreamer Wanji was talking about, sent a thrill through her.
‘I gotta warn you though, girl,’ the old man continued.
‘Warn me?’
‘This reaching, this power you got, it’s got its costs. No such thing as power without responsibility. You try to take one without the other, you end up like Dreamer Baanti. An’ for you, I reckon that responsibility’s gonna weigh heavier than you expect it to.’
‘What responsibility?’ She wondered if Dreamer Wanji ever said anything outright, or if he always talked in riddles like this.
‘You been travellin’ with Dariand a fair while now, eh?’
‘I guess.’
‘An’ you’ve seen a lot of the Darklands too. More than you were meant to, anyway.’
‘You mean Olympic?’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘You see any other children, though?’
‘No.’ Everyone she knew or had seen was old. Dariand was probably the youngest person she’d met.
‘That’s right. Hasn’t been another child born in the Darklands since the night you came. Even before that, it’d been ‘bout sixteen seasons since your mum.’
‘My mum?’
‘Jani. Your mother. She was the second last girl born in all the Darklands. You’re the last. None since, boys or girls.’
‘I know all this.’
‘Yeah? How?’
‘Gan told me.’
‘Did she? You must be the first. These rocks we’re sitting on talk more than that old woman. What else did she say?’
With a flush of embarrassment, Saria suddenly remembered she’d promised Gan she’d keep their conversation to herself
‘Not much. Just that I was the last child, and a bit about my mother.’
‘Jani, girl. Use her name. Names are powerful things.’
‘Jani.’
‘Gan told you what happened to Jani?’
‘She said the Nightpeople took her.’
Dreamer Wanji nodded. ‘Nightpeople know a lot of what happens here in the Darklands. Not everythin’, though.’ He winked.
The old man went quiet for a long time, sitting with his head bowed. Saria thought he might even have fallen asleep.
‘Am I really the last child?’
‘Yeah. The last one.’ He shook his head. ‘Couple of the women did get a bit of the way a few years back, but they were both old an’ neither made it all the way to birthing. Lost the children. Probably a good thing. Chances are they wouldn’t have been clean, so everyone’s better off without them.’
Saria recalled the look on Gan’s face when she’d talked about her son and the indescribable sadness that had filled her voice and body, and wondered if the old woman would agree with Dreamer Wanji about that.
‘Dreamer?’
‘Eh?’
‘Why didn’t you let the Nightpeople just take me? Along with my mother?’
"Cause, girl, you’re our hope. All that’s left of the old times and the old Dreamers. And judging from what happened with Baanti back there, it’s a good thing we didn’t let ‘em get you.’
‘Why?’
The old man climbed off his stone seat and kneeled on the hard floor at her feet. His movements were slow and awkward, the effort clearly causing him pain, but when Saria put out a hand to stop him, he waved her away. He reached up and took both her hands in his.
‘You’re at the end of a real long line of Darklanders, and you might not understand what that means, but you gotta listen to me, then work it out for yourself. Right?’
Saria nodded.
‘A long time in the past, before my mother’s mother’s mother, before the Nightpeople, before the Darklands and before the Shifting, all this land was rich and alive, earthwarmth flowed into everyone, and people could feel the Earthmother, and knew her touch.
‘Back then, creeks and lakes weren’t dry. Rains’d come regular, when the Skyfather would touch the land, an’ the Earthmother would drink in his gift, an’ soon there’d be new life, coldbloods and warmbloods, an’ trees an’ plenty for everyone.
‘Two types of people lived here, then: Dreamers like you and me, and also Skypeople. Dreamers were the first. They came from the old ones and they could feel the Earthmother through the soles of their feet and the palms of their hands. They could reach into the animals and the trees and even the ground itself. They lived on the land and listened to its memories, and the Earthmother listened to them and told them where to find everythin’ they needed.
‘The Skypeople came later and they were different. We Dreamers were the brothers an’ sisters of the Earthmother, but the Skypeople were children of the Skyfather. They could touch the vaults; they knew the dayvault an’ the nightvault; they could count the vaultlights, and they made their homes in the skyvaults. They built their houses right up into it and learned to make skyfire, which is like earthwarmth but louder, brighter an’ more powerful.
‘In the old times, the only skyfire was wild. The Skyfather would blast it down wherever and whenever he pleased, but the Skypeople were clever, an’ they learnt to make their own skyfire to feed their homes, and they made things which ate skyfire to help them move, and to keep them cool or warm, and to cook their food.
‘Just like Dreamers used the land to listen, Skypeople used the sky. They’d fly through it and talk through it. They owned the sky, and had powerful ways with it.
‘A lot of Skypeople lived round here, near Woormra and Olympic, and also over towards Mooka. They lived with the Dreamers and some of them learned to feel the Earthmother a little, too, but not like those old Dreamers could, eh? And some Dreamers learned to walk in the sky, and talk the language of the Skypeople, and use the skyfire, and each season the Skyfather still sent his rain on the Earthmother, and she drank it in and returned life to the Skyfather. That was how things were, a long time ago.
‘But the Skypeople were a hungry bunch, right? More and more they needed the skyfire, and they made it by burnin’ the earth. The more skyfire they needed, the more earth they burned. So the Skypeople started diggin’. They went down into the belly of the Earthmother and pulled living rocks from her guts, tore them out and burned them with more heat than you or I can imagine and made more and more skyfire.
‘Then they found new rocks, yellow hotrocks here under Woormra and Olympic and Mooka, an’ in places all through these Darklands. These rocks were somethin’ special to the Skypeople, because they had more of the earthwarmth in ‘em, so they burned even hotter and gave more skyfire.
‘So lots more Skypeople came here. They dug deeper and deeper into the earth. They made these tunnels and caverns. They tore the yellow hotrocks from the Earthmother and when she screamed only the Dreamers could hear her, but it hurt too much to listen, so a lot of them stopped all together and lost their landsense. Some of them even came down here and helped tear out the hotrocks.
‘The Skypeople made more and more skyfire, but burning the rocks took all the earthwarmth out of them, and they just let it float off into
the air. The Skyfather got mad at this and he stopped touching the Earthmother with his rains, and so she stopped makin’ life. That was the start of the Darklands.’
The old man reached down and poked the fire a couple of times with a stick. It flared briefly before settling back down and plunging the cavern into shadows again.
‘When the Skypeople had burned all the earthwarmth out of them, those hotrocks were dead, right? All that was left in them was burning, but no life. So the Skypeople brought those dead rocks back here to the Darklands and put them back down in the holes they’d made. They filled the Earthmother’s belly up with dead stone, and sealed it all up.
‘For many seasons this went on. And with each season, more and more Dreamers stopped listenin’ to the Earthmother, and instead they mixed with Skypeople and made children who couldn’t hear the earth properly but couldn’t live in the vaults, either.
‘And the Skyfather didn’t touch the Earthmother for so long that finally she got thirsty and cried out. That was the Shifting. She moved herself around, tried to reach up and touch the Skyfather, but he was too high. She shifted and reached further and further, but still couldn’t get any rain.
‘All that movin’ opened up new places in her belly, and those holes the Skypeople had filled with burning stone moved too. The dead rock flowed out right through the Earthmother and she screamed like never before, and all the Dreamers, even the ones who weren’t listenin’ any more, they screamed too.
‘After the Shifting, the Earthmother started dying, right? All that dead rock, hot and flowing around in her belly, started killin’ her. The Dreamers an’ Skypeople who walked on her started dying too. All across this country people were dying because the Earthmother didn’t have enough life to give out anymore. A lot of people left, tried to get away, but the Skypeople built the Darkedge and stopped anyone goin’ out.
‘That was a long time ago. Since then, only Nightpeople ever come into the Darklands. For a long time they watched as the land died, and they watched the people dying too. Most children born in the Darklands were wrong, some born with no arms or legs, some with no eyes. The Earthmother didn’t have enough life to finish making babies properly, so women in the Darklands stopped having children, ‘cause they were too afraid. Then a lot of them found they couldn’t have children even if they wanted too.
‘And not many people could hear the Earthmother anymore, either. Only a few still knew how to listen and could feel the earthwarmth. These Dreamers could still find wood an’ water an’ stuff, but if they reached too deep they’d feel the burning deep in the Earthmother, and they’d burn up themselves, till there was nothin’ left but an empty shell.
‘And the Skypeople who were left in the Darklands were cut off from the skyfire and forgot their ways, too, so Dreamers and Skypeople lived together, and Darklanders were born.
‘For a long time the Nightpeople just came and watched, never touching the earth, only watching from their hummers. But then they started to land whenever a woman had a child. If the child was clean, they’d take both woman and the child beyond the Darkedge. Sometimes, even if the child was broken they’d still take the mother.
‘And you, girl, are the last child of the Darklands. When you were born, a lot of us hoped you wouldn’t be the end but the beginning.’
The old man’s voice echoed around the chamber.
‘The beginning of what?’
The story made no sense. It sounded like a whole lot of Ma Lee’s wild tales of night spirits, all put together. Dreamer Wanji’s hands, still clasping her own, were trembling.
‘The Earthmother is getting stronger, girl. Just a little. The burning still hurts her, but she’s stronger. I noticed it when your mother was born, and when she had you and you were clean, it had to be a sign that the Earthmother was healing, giving out more life. Some people thought you’d be the first of many more.’
‘But I wasn’t.’
‘Nah.’ The old man shook his head. ‘Nah, you weren’t. Haven’t been any since, and now all the women are too old. But you’ve got the most powerful reaching I’ve ever come across, and you’re the first woman to ever have it. I reckon that’s an even more important sign.’
‘Why?’
‘Because nothin’ in the Darklands happens by accident.’
Saria sat holding the old man’s hands for a long time, until finally he tried to rise again. She had to assist him back to his feet.
‘What was the fight with Baanti about, then?’
‘Ah.’ He hesitated. ‘Baanti. He was one of the last Dreamers born, a long time before your mother and even a long time before Dariand. Still, you’d be the first Dreamer since him, right?’
‘Yeah.’ Saria nodded.
‘But his power’s not like yours, girl. Not strong. His sense of the Earthmother is cloudy. He doesn’t feel her pain properly. Not like you. He doesn’t understand that reaching’s more than just borrowing animals for hunting or finding water. Baanti thinks everyone feels it the same way as him. He thinks it’s weak for all Dreamers, and he reckons that’s because the Earthmother’s nearly dead.’
Dreamer Wanji took a few steps closer to the fire and held his palms out, warming himself in the sparse heat.
‘And he’s not alone, eh? There haven’t been any strong Dreamers for a long time, so most folk left in the Darklands, especially those over at Olympic, reckon he’s right. To Baanti and those who think like him, you ent a sign of anything, just lucky chance you got born, and nothin’ more.’
‘What if he’s right?’
Dreamer Wanji spun round and poked a bony finger into her chest, surprisingly hard. ‘Don’t you ever think that, girl, you understand?’
‘But he might be.’
‘Psht.’ Dreamer Wanji spat. ‘It’d be the first thing he ever got right, then. You listen to me. Baanti’s reaching is weak and only good for messing with weak people. His father’s father was Skypeople, an’ he’s always been only one step away himself. Okay?’
‘Why did he take me to Olympic and throw me into that pit? Why didn’t he try and use me himself.’
‘Because the silly bastard couldn’t feel you. Didn’t have the landsense to know you for who you are. He just thought that if he had you he’d be able to take over the council. He would’ve too. These old buggers’d do whatever he told them if they thought he had the last child. He’d get rid of me, first of all. Then he’d hand you right over to the Nightpeople.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they want you. They’ve been chasing you from the moment you were born. Dariand and me, we did our best to fool them, and mostly we succeeded, but there was one of them, a woman, I reckon, though it’s hard to tell with Nightpeople, who kept lookin’. Right up until a few seasons ago.’
‘She didn’t find me.’
‘Dariand and me still know a few tricks between us. It wasn’t difficult to keep her lookin’ in all the wrong places.’
‘Do you know why she was so keen to find me?’
‘You heard the story; you’re the last Darklander. If they get you, it’s the end. They’d get our last child, and in return they’d make Dreamer Baanti and Slander and that mob comfortable for the rest of their sorry days. That’s all you are to Dreamer Baanti, girl, alive or dead. He never gave a bugger about anyone else, the Dreamers or the Earthmother, because he couldn’t feel any of it properly.’
Dreamer Wanji fell silent and Saria walked out into the darkness until one of the chamber walls loomed before her. Slowly she leaned her forehead against the flat, grey surface. It felt cold, lifeless. She closed her eyes and stood for a few moments, until she felt the old man’s hand lightly on her shoulder.
‘Come on, girl. Let’s get back up top and get some food into you.’
All the way up the tunnel the cold touch of the rock lingered on her skin.
Night had long since passed into day, and with the return to the surface came the return of Saria’s appetite.
When they emerged into
the hut that guarded the entrance to the tunnel, Dreamer Wanji crossed straight to the door and heaved the shutter aside, resting it against the wall before stepping out into bright sunlight.
‘You coming?’
‘What if somebody sees me?’
‘Ah.’ He shook his head. ‘That don’t matter.’
‘Dariand told me there might be people from Olympic here.’
‘Even so, don’t make any difference. After what happened down there last night …’ His voice trailed off.
‘What?’
‘Don’t worry about it. Just trust me that nobody’s gonna bother us.’
Why not? Saria wondered. After all the secrecy involved in getting her into town, what could have changed?
‘Come on.’
She walked beside Dreamer Wanji as he guided her through the dusty alleys.
Woormra in daylight was uninspiring. Like Olympic, everything was coated with a layer of fine red dust, and the fierce sun baked it so the entire place had an earthy, cooked smell.
Winding through narrow alleyways, they came to the large cleared area in the centre of the town. A group of old women stood gossiping around a low stone structure in the middle of it. Three men, also old, sat in the shade of a hut on the far side and a couple of skinny, dirty dogs chased one another in circles, snapping at each other’s heels. Saria thought one of them might have been Baanti’s animal, but as the two skittered by close to her, she realised her mistake.
‘What are those women doing?’
The women had buckets and a strange array of pots and jugs.
‘Gettin’ water. That’s the well.’
‘Well?’
‘A real deep hole. Right down into the Earthmother. She fills the bottom with water, and that’s how we live. They got one over at Olympic, too, although theirs isn’t as reliable as this one. Filthy water, too. This one here’s the best well in the Darklands.’
‘Where does the water come from?’
Wanji gave her a strange look.
‘I jus’ told you. The Earthmother.’ He led her towards a hut opposite, on a course that would take them past the group. They’d walked only a few steps when one of the women nudged her neighbour and they all fell silent, watching. Saria itched under their narrowed gazes.
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