Nightpeople

by Anthony Eaton

  The faint illumination cast by the vaultlights down the narrow neck of the well was enough to throw a dull shimmer off the surface of the underground pool. As the last tremors of her efforts with the rope slowly undulated forward and backwards across the gleaming water, it again took on a solid appearance, looking smooth and hard and unlike anything else in the Darklands.

  The darkness played with her, turning her thoughts again and again to things she was trying to push to the back of her mind. No matter how hard she tried, the soft ‘thunk’ of the stone as it connected with Dreamer Wanji’s temple still rang clearly in her memory, as did the sight of the old man folding as though his bones had suddenly become as insubstantial as the water in the lake.

  Perhaps he was okay. Perhaps he’d only been knocked out.

  The thought brought little comfort. Dreamer Gaardi had pronounced him dead, after all.

  And Dariand. She hardly dared think about what might have happened to him. Could he have managed to escape Slander’s men and be waiting for her up there, waiting to take her away?

  What if he wasn’t? Saria was suddenly aware that she had no idea what she was going to do if she managed to get up the rope. If everyone was gone, or dead, or captured, what choices would she have? Where would she go?

  SARIA!

  She must have fallen asleep, because when the call woke her the chamber was lit by a pale silver beam of moonlight, angling down the well.

  SARIA!

  It came again, and the rock around her sang in her mind.

  Nightwards.

  She’d go nightwards, of course. Hoping it was late enough, Saria knotted the laces ofher shoes around her neck and slung the waterskin over her shoulder, then waded into the lake for what she hoped would be the last time.

  Taking a moment to refill her water-skin, Saria first unsnagged the rope and bucket from the stone, then began to pull herself upwards.

  Desperation and adrenaline made the climb surprisingly easy. The full bucket on the bottom stopped the rope from swinging around too much and the knots and loops provided effective hand and footholds. She shimmied upwards, her eyes on the pale silver circle of the nightvault, which grew steadily closer. After only a couple of minutes she reached the roof of the cavern, where it entered the bottom of the well.

  The well was only slightly wider than her shoulders, and the walls slimy with damp and moss. The taste of the air became drier and more dusty as she approached the top. Muscles burning, she reached one hand out over the low stone lip of the well, then the other and pulled herself clear, out into the open air.

  She dropped onto the muddy dirt of the common, lying on her back and gasping. Through the pain in her arms and the relief in her mind, she felt as if she had come out of the belly of the Earthmother a different person from the one who had crouched hidden in the council chamber the day before.

  As though hearing her thoughts, earthwarmth surged through her.

  Above her, millions of vaultlights were alive and swimming through the night. After lying and gazing into the inky depths of the nightvault for a few minutes longer, she forced herself to her feet again. The longer she lingered in Woormra, the more chance she had ofbeing caught.

  Dariand’s hut was deserted, which wasn’t surprising. She allowed herself a moment’s concern for him. Perhaps she should try and find him before she left – at least try to find out what they’d done with him.

  She pushed the thought back. Dariand would be the first to tell her to leave as fast as possible.

  All the same, the thought of what Slander might have done – or be doing – to Dariand made her chest tighten. As hard as she tried not to, she remembered the touch of his lips when he’d kissed her forehead, and the feeling of his arms around her when he’d hugged her. Something about him made her feel secure, and now the knowledge that he might be dead, like Dreamer Wanji, like the dog …

  Saria held back the tears. She would be strong.

  SARIA!

  The call was different now, too. Her journey through the caves had done something to her, attuned her to it. It flowed into her more sharply, and in turn she found herself making less effort to resist it.

  But the memory of Dreamer Baanti, and the dog, and what her reaching had done to both of them, was still clear in her mind. And the call was a part of it. No matter how tempting it was to simply fall into that flow of energy and let it fill her, she was determined to hold herself against it.

  Resolutely, Saria reset her mental barriers and pushed the call away.

  She raided what was left of Dariand’s food supply, gorging herself and taking all the dried meat she could carry.

  Then, water-skin slung behind, shoes re-laced, she slid back out around the side of the hut and wound through the alleyways, working towards the edge of the town. Around her there was an almost deathly silence hanging. Even the huts which should have been inhabited with old people snoring their way through the night were dead and empty. It was almost a relief to pass into the ring of unused huts – at least she was used to them being empty. She let herself relax slightly and move more confidently, and was lucky that she heard the men before they detected her.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You hear something?’

  Saria barely had time to melt into the shadows and freeze before two shapes emerged into the alleyway ahead of her.

  ‘Nah. What’d it sound like?’

  She knew the voices. It was the two men who’d lowered the bucket earlier that night.

  ‘Someone running. But real quiet, like.’

  Saria held her breath and willed herself not to twitch. Around her the night seemed to stand still also.

  ‘You’re imaginin’ things. There ent nobody here, and we ent gonna find anyone either, eh?’

  The second man didn’t try to hide the disgruntled tone in his voice.

  ‘Still, Slander said we gotta look …’

  ‘Slander’s gone crazy. He shouldn’t have killed that Dreamer, if you ask me. That’s never a good idea. And now he’s lost the girl, too.’

  ‘Lost her?’

  ‘Yeah. Why’d you reckon we’re searchin’ all these bloody huts in the dark, eh? Only ones that knew where she was were Dreamer Wanji and Dariand. An’ then Slander goes and kills the old man.’

  ‘Yeah, but Dariand will tell …’

  ‘Ah, rubbish’ Arri. That nightwalker won’t give Slander a thing.’

  ‘He might.’

  ‘Even Slander won’t get the truth outa Dariand. Not where that girl’s concerned’ anyway.’

  Saria’s heart thumped in her chest. Dariand was alive. That was something. The two men were moving away from her now’ towards the next hut. Their voices faded as their last words floated through the still night.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘He’s got an "interest’’ in her let’s just say.’

  ‘Ah …’

  There was something odd in the way the first man spoke, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. Once they’d disappeared, Saria gave them a good amount of time before moving again herself this time keeping her steps silent and light, as Dariand had taught her.

  He was alive! The knowledge sent a tingle of joy through her. And if she knew Dariand, he’d keep Slander and his lot occupied long enough for her to get away. Then he’d do the same himself.

  The final huts loomed in front of her and Saria stopped in their shadows, waiting to be certain she was alone. Ahead, the desert stretched, rising in a gentle slope to where the moon was hanging low above the nightwards horizon.

  For a moment she toyed with the idea of ignoring the call. She thought about turning her steps dayward, back across the plains towards the valley, and home. But what would be the point? It wasn’t home any more. Ma Lee had sent her away once. And Dreamer Wanji had died so she’d have a chance to follow the call. A chance to continue nightwards.

  Saria!

  The call came with a surge of heat through her shoes, ec
hoing her thoughts. It came like another mind pressing gently into her own. Surrendering, Saria lowered herself to the ground, pressing her cheek into the hard dirt. Energy pulsed through her and it was difficult to tear herself away and set off again, to feel the warmth fade to a distant glow through her soles.

  At the top of the slope, she stopped and looked back. Woormra crouched, still and lifeless, in its shallow depression, slumbering uneasily through the night. She remembered imagining it on the journey here with Dariand. Then it had seemed exciting, a place of answers. Now, though, she was glad to be leaving.

  Out beyond the daywards horizon she caught a flicker of light as a Nightpeople patrol swung through the vault, but it was too distant for even the faintest hum to reach her, so she didn’t allow it to concern her. Then she turned her back on Woormra for the final time.

  She knew where she was going. The Darkedge. Once there, she’d find a way across. She’d find Jani, her mother. She’d answer the call.

  She fell into the steady gait that Dariand had taught her and the desert slipped quietly past.

  Something was different. Saria stopped and turned, taking in the landscape.

  Under the moonlight, the desert was still and silent. The land, which would glow red during the harsh light of day, slept in muted tones of silver and black. Not a breath of air moved, not a sound disturbed the quiet.

  And yet something was different.

  Behind her, Saria’s tracks were little more than faint scuffles of dust. When she’d started walking at dusk, the ground had been relatively easy underfoot, the sand soft. As she’d walked, though, it had grown steadily harder until she was walking on solid stone with just the faintest dusting of dirt covering it.

  Again she turned, scanning the land. Nothing. There was no indication of anything or anybody nearby, but still she found it impossible to shake the sense that there had been some shift, some fundamental change. As though she was somehow even more alone than before.

  She caught herself wishing that there was a creature nearby, something into which she could sink, something whose landsense she could borrow to scan the landscape much further out than she herself could manage. She wished the dog was still with her, trotting beside her, its mind open and willing, its senses hers if she wanted to borrow them. Then the memory of how she’d touched its mind at that last moment sent a prickle of coldness through her, and the empty eyes of Dreamer Baanti flashed into her thoughts.

  With a conscious effort, Saria stopped herself thinking about reaching. She would never reach into anything again. Animal or human.

  Saria!

  Even the call, which grew stronger the further nightwards she walked, and the press of earthwarmth it brought with it, even that was a compromise she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. And yet she couldn’t fight it. She couldn’t shut it out like she could the urge to reach, so she knew she’d have to learn to accept it. Perhaps in time she’d even be able to draw strength from it again.

  She took a small drink from her water-skin, which was still half full, thanks to careful rationing. She’d have to find water soon, sometime in the next couple of days, or she’d be in trouble. She couldn’t go back. Not to Woormra, or anywhere behind her. Even without the call drawing her nightwards, it would be impossible to return. The further she travelled, the more convinced she became of that.

  She was the last child of the Darklands, the last Dreamer, and when she’d walked away from Woormra she knew she’d taken hope with her. Her only option now was to follow the path she’d chosen to its end, wherever that might be.

  Somewhere behind her, the thrumming pulse of a hummer throbbed out of the nightvault, and Saria turned slowly, scanning the daywards horizon for any sign of it. There was nothing, only the slowly rising whine which floated across the sand and vibrated lightly through her clothes. Wherever the patrol was, it wasn’t advertising itself.

  This was new.

  Since leaving Woormra, there’d been plenty of patrols – so many she’d almost become inured to them. The first time a hummer had filled the night with its sound, not long after she’d walked into the desert, Saria had stayed frozen for ages, crouched below a clump of spiny desert grass.

  Now, she didn’t even bother to stop walking unless she could actually see the Nightpeople coming her way, which hadn’t happened very often. The patrols’ paths seemed to take them across her own, a long way either ahead or behind. None had run along her nightwards track, and so none had given her much cause for concern.

  Until now.

  This hummer was closer than any since that first night, and approaching too, by the sound of it. But unlike the others, there was no telltale thread of a nightsun probing ahead, no light at all. Just that eerie, unearthly hum, growing rapidly louder.

  Saria strained her eyes against the nightvault. The moon had not yet risen and the night was lit only by the distant glimmer of vaultlights. Back on the daywards horizon, the three vaultlights of the Child hung low in the sky, almost ready to set. As she looked at them, one seemed to wink at her, a fast blink that came and went almost before she’d noticed it.

  The blink of something passing in front of the vaultlight.

  Something like a hummer.

  There was nowhere to hide, and instead of wasting time and energy Saria simply flung herself to the ground. She knew she should douse herself with water as Dariand had taught her, but her supplies were becoming so meagre now that she dared not. Instead, she just lay prone, scooping as much cool desert sand over herself as she could in the little time she had.

  It wasn’t much. It didn’t seem like nearly enough, but only seconds later the hummer rushed out of the dark sky and roared over her almost directly above, sending a concussive wave of energy pulsing downwards and almost crushing the breath out of her. Looking up, she got a quick impression of something large and dark, of curves and odd angles hurling itself against the night.

  And then it was gone. It gave no sign it was interested in her, or had even noticed she was there. Instead it held its course and melted back into the night, the noise of its passage fleeing with it.

  Saria stood and stared after it, puzzled, but the darkness had swallowed it whole. She wished Dariand had been there to see it. He might’ve been able to explain it to her. She wondered if he’d ever seen Nightpeople behaving in that way. It had flown so intently, as though chasing something, not just randomly searching.

  The thought of what might have happened to Dariand wasn’t something she wanted to consider right now, and so as she started walking again she tried to focus on the call.

  It was changing and had been ever since she’d left Woormra. No longer was it just an occasional surge of earthwarmth; now it was a more constant presence. It also brought an unrelenting sense of belonging somewhere else. Somewhere nightwards. It still came in bursts, waking her from her sleep during the day, or grabbing her from her marching stupor, but these episodes were less intense, and the periods between were filled with the reassurance of that distant summoning. It was enough to keep her putting one leg in front of the other and, until tonight, she hadn’t thought too much about her new sensitivity to it.

  The first traces of dawn were smearing the daywards horizon, and she began to look for a place to stop. Since leaving Woormra, she’d made sure to be well concealed by the time full daylight spilled across the land. Once he was certain that she wasn’t in Woormra, Saria was convinced Slander would come after her.

  To her left an angular outcrop rising from the flatness of the desert caught her eye. It was little more than a smudge against the horizon, and although it was still too dark to judge the distance, in this arid part of the desert it might well provide the only cover around. She turned her path towards it, but as the morning grew lighter she realised it was further away than she’d thought. It was too late to search for something closer, though, so she kept her course.

  Ahead, the dark smear of a crumbling road stretched itself across the landscape at right angles to he
r course, and as she crossed it a strange sensation of dread filled her.

  The call faded. As she stepped off the other side of the road it was gone, the ground below her feet cold and dead like the walls of the council chamber and tunnels back in Woormra.

  At that moment, the sun peeped over the daywards horizon, flooding the land with light and revealing the outcrop ahead clearly for the first time. It wasn’t a natural uprising of jagged desert stone; it was smooth. It was smoother even than the cut walls of the tunnels, and rose from the desert in an enormous, solid block, the sharp angles and corners in stark contrast to the world of her experience.

  The Shifting House.

  Unbidden, Dreamer Wanji’s words leapt to her memory: ‘It’s an empty place. It’s where the Skypeople used to do their burning. There’s nothing at all left there – no life. Just a shell of earth so burned out it’s like a hole in the world.’

  ‘A hole in the world,’ Saria muttered out loud as she studied the building.

  Here and there, dark openings resembled windows, the holes uncomfortably like the black pinprick pupils of Dreamer Baanti’s burnt-out eyes. The building was higher than any of the huts of either Woormra or Olympic, towering into the morning air like some kind of mountain made by humans. In the brightening dawn it didn’t glow red, as most desert rock would, but stayed a dull, menacing grey. If anything, it seemed to suck up the daylight rather than reflect it, making it seem darker in the increasing light.

  The sensation of coldness through her feet was distracting. It poured into her legs, making them heavy, but she kept walking and before long came across the remains of another road. The cracked black strip extended straight towards the towering hulk of the building.

  She walked along it as through a dream. Even the crunch of her footsteps on the broken surface seemed distant. Soon she was close enough to see other openings in the building, long jagged cracks and gashes running the length and height of the walls, huge fractures where the earth below had shifted and the grey walls opened.