The Humanarium

by CW Tickner

  As soon the block fell inwards, a cascade of yellow poured in from the other side. Everyone stumbled back as Harl stared in horror at a wave of cascading sand.

  Chapter 55

  A break in! Someone has entered in the night a stolen some of my stock. I must find out what has been taken.

  The sand poured in at an alarming rate as the group back-pedalled to keep from being swept up in it. One man was too slow. He stumbled and fell backwards as the sand rushed over him like a wave of yellow water. Harl leapt forward and grabbed the man’s hand as his face was buried and his panicked scream cut off. Damen grabbed his other hand and together they yanked him free.

  ‘Will it stop?’ the man asked as more grains fell into the tank and the pile of sand grew into a mound. He coughed, spitting out a gob of wet sand, and rubbed the grains from his eyes as the flow eased to a gentle cascade.

  Harl scooped up a handful.

  ‘Sand?’ he said, perplexed, but then remembered his decent with Sonora after leaving her tank. ‘It’s a sand world. Sonora and I saw something similar when we left the tank.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ Kane said. ‘We have records relating to continents covered entirely with sand. It might not be as inhospitable as it sounds.’

  The flow stopped after a moment, leaving a large mound that extended ten paces away from the hole in the barrier and two strides high.

  ‘Clear the hole,’ Damen ordered and a trio of men clambered up the mound, slipping as their legs sank down into the loose grains. They lay flat and used their hands to start scooping sand away from the hole, pushing it aside into the slop as more tumbled in after.

  Harl stepped on to the sand. His foot sank a fraction into the grains as he struggled towards the hole. He waded through, sinking deeper as he climbed up. It felt like he was making no progress. The weight of it pulled at him and dragged him down. He struggled against it, sweat pouring from his body until, finally, he struggled to the top of the shifting pile and stretched out to grab the ledge and pull himself up and out.

  He was blasted by a sudden, intense heat the moment he crawled through the hole. It didn’t burn, but it was as though the air was sucking the moisture from his body. The air was heavy with a scent of salt as he wiped his arm across his forehead to stop a bead of sweat from dripping into his eyes.

  He was at the bottom of a small hollow with sand all around. It reminded him of a funnel. His hands burnt from contact with the shifting ground, but he pushed on and reached the top of the funnel, only to sink to his knees as he took a look around.

  A barren yellow landscape of rolling dunes swept away before him. A soft wind stirred against his face, bringing the sting of tiny sand grains with it. A few rocks dotted the scene and small plants clustered in their shadow as though terrified to step out into the light. Everything shimmered, the whole world seeming to shift before him as the heat distorted the air.

  A valley nestled among the dunes at the centre of the tank. Small groups of trees grew in clumps at the bottom, but it was the sight of skin tents that drew Harl’s eye. Hundreds of them were propped up around a large, domed hut as though it was the heart of their community. The hut looked to be made from sun-faded wood.

  He shielded his eyes and could see people moving around down there. The men wore simple leather loin-clothes while the women wore longer coverings, but everyone had tan hoods that draped down over their shoulders to protect them form the fierce light.

  ‘We had best keep going,’ Harl said as Damen joined him. He could feel the heat delve into his skin. How could the people below them wear so little clothing and not shrivel up? Surely their dark skin would absorb the heat even more? His throat was already parched and the taste of salt flooded his mouth every time he opened it to speak. ‘If we stay in this place too long, I fear for our water supplies.’

  ‘It seems we have found something more than cattle,’ Kane said, breathless as he joined them. ‘Shall we go down?’

  ‘Nothing else for it,’ Damen said. ‘We have to cross. Let’s hope they’re friendly.’

  Harl stood up and half-jogged, half-slipped down the hot, sandy hill. The footing was treacherous and he had to keep his eyes on the ground as he slithered down the slope, but he kept glancing up at the tents as he descended. If these strange people decided to race out and attack them, they wouldn’t stand a chance half-buried in sand. The sand rose like golden hills around them with only the path towards the tent village being open.

  ‘We’ll stop here and wait,’ Harl said as he finished his own slippery descent and brushed the coarse grit from his clothing. He saw the dark men and women bustling around the tents in panic. ‘We’ve been seen. Stow your weapons. We don’t want to startle these people into a fight. We may well be the first outsiders to set foot here and I don’t want to cause mayhem because someone’s sweaty finger slipped.’

  Damen grunted agreement and slung his rifle over his shoulder, but eased his hand down to rest on his sword hilt.

  ‘I highly doubt they’ve seen weapons like ours before,’ Kane said. ‘Probably a futile gesture.’

  Harl looked hard at him and the scientist shrugged.

  ‘As you wish,’ Kane said and reluctantly jammed his pistol into a holster on his waist.

  By the time Harl had taken a swig of his rapidly warming water, a line of dark-skinned, half-naked men, women and children had lined up along the length of the outermost tents. A small huddle of men stepped closer. All of them were well built and had dark skin and hair. Most had belts around their waists that were covered in carved bones. Bangles circled their forearms and wooden jewellery hung down around their necks from under their shoulder coverings.

  Although the distance was still a hundred paces away it was clear one or two of the men had more jewellery than the rest. They were dotted with gems and beads of carved bone. Some even had pieces of wood embedded in their skin like crude piercings. They gripped polished wooden spears firmly in their hands.

  The group stopped about thirty paces away.

  The largest, most ornately-clad of the men shouted across to them, ‘Where have you come from?’ His voice was deep and powerful and carried easily through the dry air.

  Harl was surprised that they spoke the same language. It was more guttural and stunted, but the man sounded confident and looked them over with obvious curiosity.

  Harl took a step forward and swallowed some more water to ease his dry throat. The man facing him eyed the waterskin, but Harl couldn’t tell whether the look showed suspicion or desire. The man’s face was a mask.

  ‘We come from a land far beyond these walls and would tell you of the life you could live there. It is a strange tale and I beg that you listen, for it is a message of hope.’

  The man was powerfully built. Muscles bulged under his leather shoulder covering and his arms were coated in dark tattoos. He seemed to be trying to convince the others around him to move closer to the newcomers, and kept jerking his head towards Harl, but they just shook their heads and muttered amongst themselves.

  ‘Did the big ones send you?’ the leader asked.

  Harl found his deep voice fascinating. It had an earthy rumbling quality to it that was almost hypnotic.

  Harl thought about the question and finally understood that he must be referring to the Aylen.

  ‘We came for our own reasons. Nothing has sent us.’

  This seemed to reassure the man. He moved forward a few paces, urging his men to follow, but they refused to budge, so he spat on the sand in disgust and strode forward alone. The others looked wide-eyed at the display.

  ‘He’s bold,’ Damen said.

  ‘He’s big,’ Kane said.

  Now that he was closer, Harl studied his face. The man’s dark eyes sat in sunken sockets that seemed to contrast with his puffy cheeks and wide mouth. It seemed that if he smiled he would look jolly, but the sunken eyes bore a gaze that was penetrating.

  The man twisted to look at his people and growled something at them,
then jabbed the butt of his spear into the sand in impatience. The others jumped in shock at the gesture and edged forward, but were still keeping their distance.

  The leader slowed his pace as he neared, and then stopped several steps in front of Harl. He scanned them slowly from to toe to head, frowning at times as his eyes locked on to something they were wearing. He tightened the grip of his spear.

  ‘We came through a hole in the barrier to help you,’ Harl said, once more indicating the wall behind. ‘My name’s Harl Eriksson. We’ve come here to show you that you’re not alone and to tell you that the world is bigger than this.’ He gestured around at the walls in the distance and the vast see-through barrier that looked out on the shop.

  The man was eyeing Damen with a peculiar look, as if weighing up which of them would prevail in combat. Damen glared back, but Harl noticed his fist tighten, almost imperceptibly, around his sword hilt.

  ‘My name is Oscar of-the-well,’ the man said. ‘I’m leader of the tribe. How have you come here and where have you come from?’

  Harl thought it a strange name. Was that his surname? Or was it where he’d been born? He had no way of judging it, but in his mind he could picture Troy sniggering at it. Looking at the man he had no desire to laugh. There was a dignity to him. The way he carried himself and the hypnotic rhythm of his voice conveyed confidence and strength. Those behind Oscar of-the-well sidled closer as he spoke and were following every word with rapt attention as if an order to kill or run might be buried in their meaning.

  ‘We’ve come to free you and others from captivity,’ Harl said.

  ‘I am not a captive,’ Oscar said, frowning. ‘I am free to choose my own way.’

  Before Harl could say any more Damen spoke up.

  ‘You are trapped here by the big ones beyond,’ he said, indicating the front of the tank. ‘Your tribe and many others are under their rule.’

  Oscar did not reply straight away, but those around him murmured amongst themselves..

  ‘Do you bring water?’ Oscar of-the-well asked.

  Harl was taken aback at the oddness of the question, but replied anyway. ‘Yes, we have water and food with us. May we eat and drink with you so that we can explain why we are here and where we come from? There’s much you need to know.’

  Oscar of-the-well looked thoughtful, but then eased his grip on the spear and began to smile. ‘You will be our first guests,’ he said and then turned to the men and women behind him. ‘Prepare a feast!’

  A cheer rose from all those gathered and the tension broke. The children whooped with joy as the adults darted off towards the skin-covered tents, calling out to those hidden inside.

  Oscar led Harl, Kane, and Damen across the sands as the rest followed behind. They passed a field of low-lying crop as they headed for the village. It was a leafless plant where the crown of the root stuck out above the surface of the sand. The crown looked waxy and was like a giant carrot, but a pale yellow. The sand under them was a darker shade, indicating a recent watering, but the planting was sporadic and many of them had perished.

  Oscar led them towards the village. It seemed strange to call it that because there were no buildings, it was just a shabby collection of dried animal skins propped up with sticks. But, as they navigated their way past the laughing children, they got closer and closer to the large central hut.

  It was supported on solid timber beams with a round thatched roof, and was ringed with a well-trodden walkway made from weathered planks of wood that rose above the loose sand. An elderly man was slowly brushing the grains of sand from the planks with a broom, treading an eternal circle around the building. The hut walls were made from a lattice of woven fronds fixed to thick, sun-bleached beams of timber. Every now and then the old man would spot a few grains of sand on the wall and shift from his path to brush them away, muttering to himself each time he did so.

  As Harl got closer he could see that curved lines had been carved into the beams. They reminded him of ripples on water.

  People around the hut carried baskets laden with meat and fruit for the feast. They slowed to stare at the newcomers in fascination, their dark eyes tracking Harl and his men, before moving on along the well-trodden pathways between the tents.

  Harl walked next to Oscar, and tried to peek around the man’s hood. It was made from the same course material the rest of his people wore and, when the wind tugged it back, his inked bald head was revealed. The tattoos showed geometric patterns that curved like the water carvings in the building’s beams. The bangles of carved bone around his arms and ankles rattled as he strolled through the encampment.

  ‘Tell me more of your people, Oscar of-the-well?’ Harl said, trying to keep up with the man’s long, easy strides across the sand.

  ‘There is not much to say,’ Oscar said, stopping to let a child run past. ‘Life is hard for us at times. We face a constant lack of water, even though our wells go to the bottom. Food is scarce. We must grow what we can with little water, but it is never enough for the children. Many sicken and die before they reach adulthood. It is a similar thing with our herds. They do not last long in the heat, so we must keep them under shade as often as we can. But, as you can see, shade is a blessing stripped from nearly all of our land.’

  ‘Do the big ones not give you enough food?’ Harl asked.

  ‘They give us next to nothing and we have no love for them. They take our wives and children, and the strongest men.’ A dark grin spread over his face. ’But only when they can catch us.’

  ‘When they can catch you?’ Harl asked as they stepped up onto the planked walkway around the hut, startling the sweeper from his reverie.

  ‘We do not offer ourselves up freely.’ Oscar said. ‘When the hand comes, we hide as best we can, but the hands break our homes and pry us out, although they do not touch this wooden building for some reason. Maybe you can tell me why?’

  ‘I cannot answer that,’ Harl said as they reached a cloth covered doorway that led inside.

  ‘But, if you accept what I have to say,’ Harl said, as Oscar jerked the cloth aside, ‘then you will never need to watch your people suffer again at the hands of the big ones.’

  Oscar gestured for them to enter first and Damen turned to order the men to wait outside, then followed Harl in with Kane in tow.

  The inside was spacious and cool, with a tiered row of worn, wooden benches to one side, overlooking a fire pit that was surrounded by mosaic patterned rugs. Several small torches were set in sconces attached to the beams that rose to the thatch roof above. A clay funnelled chimney extended down from where the beams met at the apex of the roof, directly above the fire pit.

  Oscar walked to the rugged woven mats in the centre of the main room, crossed his legs and sat, nodding for Harl and the others to follow suit. The central fire had been lit and was being tended by an old bearded man. A cow was roasting over it on a spit, while people bustled in from adjacent doors to place wooden bowls overflowing with nuts and berries down on the mat. One woman carried a clay pitcher, which Harl assumed contained water, and filled small, carved wooden cups, before passing them around.

  Kane had been talking to one of the men since they arrived and he leant over to whisper to Harl.

  ‘We’re rich,’ he said.

  Harl gave him a questioning look.

  ‘They worship water, or at least treat it with a strict reverence. Those with a good supply are more influential in society. Why do you think he asked if we brought water.’

  ‘Why would they do such a thing?’

  ‘With it so hard to come by,’ Kane said, picking a few nuts from a bowl and tossing them into his mouth, ‘they have to rely on what the Aylen provides through the sprinkler system.’

  ‘Sprinkler system?’

  ‘The rain inside these tanks is artificial, Harl. It’s provided through sprinkler holes embedded in the tank roof.’

  Harl had never really thought about where the rain came from in the tanks. It had just been s
omething that fell from the roof, but now that Kane had explained it, he marvelled at the ingenuity of it all. It seemed that the Aylen went to extraordinary lengths when they created their worlds. All of the lands, all of the animals, the lights and rain. He was sickened at the reason for it all, but he couldn’t help feeling awe at what the Aylen were able to achieve.

  ‘They have to dig deep wells to act as reservoirs and collect water from the plants and trees around the sand plain,’ Kane went on. ‘They regard trees as sacred, or at least the wood, as they take so much time and water to grow. They even recycle their waste through a filter system for use on the plants.’

  Harl was fascinated.

  ‘Give them some of ours,’ he said.

  Kane stood up and addressed them. ‘Harl has asked me to give you some of our water. Ten waterskins will be a gift to the tribe.’

  Oscar stood up.

  ‘I, Oscar of-the-well, accept your gift to us. It is most generous.’ He took a chunk of beef from the man cutting slices from the spit and sat down. ‘Now you must answer our questions as you have promised.’

  With that Harl, Kane and Damen related all they knew about the Aylen, the people inside the cubes, Delta, and the history of humanity. Eventually, once they’d finished explaining about the ship and the reasons for coming into the tanks, the crowd of dark faces around them showed a mix of emotions, but it was Oscar’s face that held the one emotion that resonated with Harl.

  Anger.

  Chapter 56

  Some of the creatures have been taken. I believe around ten individuals. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but so far I have managed to keep tabs on all of the ones I have sold.

  Having unregistered creatures breeding could disrupt everything.

  They ate in silence for a long time after all the questions had been answered. Finally, Oscar stood up.

  ‘My heart is filled with rage,’ he said, his eyes flicking between Harl, Kane, and Damen. ‘For a long time I’ve watched my people die from thirst and get taken away never to return. And now I’m told it is for the amusement of these Aylen.’ He struggled with the new word. ‘If all you say is true, then we shall join you and do all we can to aid you in this war.’