Nightpeople (17 page)

‘Welcome, Sister.'

She wasn't certain what to say, so she stayed silent. Then the man addressed the entire gathering, his words taking on a strange formality.

‘We who reach the Earthmother, we who hear her cries and who feel her pain, we who walk her skin and drink her blood for our water, we meet here today in the warmth ofher belly. We come here to remember the old sacred stories about when this land was clean and fresh. We come to council to remember the past, and to remember the future. We are the Dreamers. This is our task.'

‘This is our task!' each man around the circle repeated, the response echoing off the walls. But there was something resigned in the way they spoke, as if this was a vow they'd made so many times that it had lost its meaning.

While the old man was speaking, Saria studied him as best she could in the dull light. He was old, like all the Darklanders. Years of memories were written in the thousands of creases on his face, which all seemed to dance and shift in the firelight, in the bright flash of his eyes and in the sparse strands of white hair that crowned his head. This, she guessed, was Dreamer Wanji. As if reading her thoughts, the old man turned again to face her.

‘I'm Dreamer Wanji. We've been waitin' a long time for you.'

‘I'm sorry,' Saria replied, misunderstanding. ‘Dariand brought me as soon as he could …'

‘Nah, girl. That's not what I mean. Much longer than that. We been waitin' for you since before the night when the cluster of The Child appeared in the nightvault. And this land's been waitin' even longer than that.'

As he stepped closer she realised with surprise that he was tiny, even smaller than herself. His body was stooped and his thin legs and arms seemed little more than twigs. For all that the old man gave off a sense of power. Of weight behind his words.

One of the other men coughed. Dreamer Wanji smiled and abruptly the formality fell out of his voice.

‘This here's the council – all that's left of us, anyway. You already know Dreamer Gaardi, an' this here's Keeti, Maali, that fella's Srani …' He continued around the circle, pointing at each man in turn. Some nodded, a couple smiled at her, but most simply stared with expressionless faces.

‘I hear you've met this bloke, too.'

The man seated on the second last boulder looked up and met her eyes and Saria gasped. Dreamer Baanti's glittering little smile didn't touch his pale gaze.

‘You're a slippery one, eh, girl?'

His words, no more than a whisper, slid around the chamber. He even managed to sound slightly amused.

‘That'll do, Dreamer Baanti.' Dreamer Wanji's response was calm, just as quiet, but there was power behind it. ‘You'll get your chance to say your bit.'

Saria could taste tension floating between the thirteen men, an atmosphere of shifting alliances and mistrust.

‘Now, Saria' – the use of her name startled her – ‘how about you take a seat, eh?'

‘Where?'

Dreamer Wanji gestured around. ‘Just pick a stone. Most of those who sat on them are long gone.'

There was an empty boulder beside Dreamer Gaardi and she started towards it. But before she'd had time to take more than a step, Dreamer Baanti made a hissing noise, sucking air in through his teeth, and leapt to his feet.

‘She got no right to be sittin' in the circle. No right even to be here in council.'

Several other men nodded. Dreamer Wanji faced Dreamer Baanti across the fire.

‘She's the last child of the Darklands. I reckon that gives her the right.'

‘Rubbish. She's not part of the council and her words have no weight down here. I say she stands.'

The other men leaned forward and watched the two in the centre with grave attention. Saria froze. Dreamer Baanti, old though he was, was clearly younger than Dreamer Wanji, and this was evident in his stance, in the tilt of his head, and, compared with Dreamer Wanji, even his skinny body seemed muscled. When Dreamer Wanji spoke, though, his voice betrayed nothing.

‘You wanna leave her standing, eh?'

‘She's not a Dreamer. She can't do the reaching, so she doesn't sit with us. That's all I'm saying.'

There were more mutterings of agreement. Then, to her surprise, Dreamer Wanji stepped back.

‘Okay. For the moment she can sit on the floor, right?'

‘She stands.'

‘Then you say your piece now, so she can go and rest. But she's not standin' here while you mob talk her in circles until she can't take any more. Or would you rather throw her into a hole and leave her to wallow in her own filth, eh?'

Uncomfortable glances passed between the men. Clearly news of Dreamer Baanti's treatment of her had reached the council before she had, and even among Dreamer Baanti's supporters not everyone approved of it.

Dreamer Baanti raised his hand as if to strike Dreamer Wanji, but at the last moment controlled himself and settled for pointing a gnarled finger into the older man's face.

‘What I've gotta say is council business and won't be said in front of that girl.'

‘She's the reason that this council's here. In fact, she's the reason the first council was called. All our stories have been leading up to this day and to this girl, so you'll say your piece in front of her, or you can take yourself back to Olympic.'

‘Psht!' Dreamer Baanti spat into the fire. ‘You're still talkin' crap. You've been talkin' crap for as long as any of us can remember, and now's the time to face some facts, eh? Real facts. Not the lies and stories you've been feeding everyone.'

‘I ent ever lied about the old stories.'

‘Then how come none of us here knew she was alive, eh? How come you left it all these years to bring her down here? How come you let the whole of the Darklands believe she was stillborn? If those aren't lies, then what are they, eh?'

Dreamer Wanji deliberately turned his back on the other man and spoke into the darkness.

‘You ‘ent even gonna give me a chance to sort this out according to the old stories, are you?'

‘We've been waitin' all our lives for you to do that. We've waited so long that most of us are near dying. The time for waitin' is over.'

‘Look at her,' Dreamer Wanji replied, talking to the entire council now. ‘You look at her there and tell me she's not everything I promised, eh? Tell me that for the last thirteen years, when each of you has been talking with the Earthmother, you weren't also feelin' this girl's footsteps, even when she was right out there in the valley. Even when you didn't know for a fact that she was alive.'

He whirled round and stepped towards one of the other old men. ‘Srani, you told us that when Dreamer Baanti had her in that pit you could feel her burnin' through the earth like you never felt before, right?'

The man on the rock dropped his gaze.

‘But now you sit there and agree with this bastard. You all do. He's got less landsense than the rest of you, he can't reach to save himself, but still you let him eat up your own real dreams with his imaginary ones.'

Now Dreamer Baanti did lash out, spinning Dreamer Wanji and striking him across the face. The slap echoed sharply and several men rose, closing on them until Dreamer Wanji held up his hand.

‘See? There you are. Never since the first council has one Dreamer needed to thump another. Up until now, every Dreamer's been able to feel the Shifting and that's been enough hurt for all of us. Not him though.' He pointed at Dreamer Baanti who stood, defiant and furious. ‘Not him. His ability's clouded. Always has been, and you lot have always known it. Now you can see it for yourself.'

Wanji straightened as much as he could and spat a mouthful of blood at the other man's feet.

‘Even down here, right now in the belly of the Earthmother, you got no sense of this girl, have you?'

All eyes swivelled to Dreamer Baanti. When he replied, his voice was a hiss.

‘She's just a girl. Only thing she might be good for is makin' babies, but we don't know if she's even fit for that, do we?'

‘She's a lot more than that.'

‘Ha!' Dreamer Baanti's laugh was a sharp bark. Before anyone could react, he grabbed Saria's arm, pulling her to him and pressing the fingers of his other hand to the left side of her neck. It wasn't Dreamer Gaardi's soft touch, though. He stabbed rigid fingers hard into her soft flesh and there was no control behind the searing, blinding light which exploded in Saria's head as the Dreamer rammed his mind into hers. It was a hard, blunt, driving force which thrust itself straight into her, a living wedge of pain driving deeper and deeper though the layers of her mind. It was worse than both times he'd done it to her before.

She was barely aware of her own screaming and the shouts of the other Dreamers. Her thoughts were slipping away, her mind and control being consumed and burned up in the horrific pain of the other man's mind.

She knew she had to fight it before there was nothing left of herself to hold on to.

SARIA!

The call poured into her from somewhere far beyond the cold chamber. With it came the same distant, shifting burning, which she had so often found in the deepest parts of animals. It filled every part of her mind, earthwarmth streaming into her through her feet, coming up from the bare rock floor and slamming into the relentless attacking mind of Dreamer Baanti. The two forces met in a stunning explosion of pain. Unable to stop herself, Saria let the earthwarmth push the Dreamer's mind from her own in one savage, uncontrolled rush. All at once, Dreamer Baanti's mind seemed to go cold, the sensation sending a terrible shudder through both of them.

Dreamer Baanti screamed then, an unearthly wail as he fell and curled up, whimpering like a child, on the stone floor beside the fire.

Saria fell too, but hers was not a collapse into pain. With the sudden release from Dreamer Baanti's mind-grip, her own consciousness flooded back into her and she crumpled to the floor.

The first thing she was aware of was the coolness. It was everywhere, under her, on top of her, pressing in through her eyes and head.

‘Saria?

A man's voice, distant and gentle.

‘What?'

She was awake now, but when she tried to open her eyes there was still only darkness and gentle pressure.

‘Hush, girl. Be still.'

Someone lifted the damp cloth from her face and Dreamer Gaardi swam into view.

‘Can you hear us?'

It was quiet. So very quiet. Firelight danced across the old man's features.

‘What …'

‘Shhh. Just lie there for a bit, eh?'

‘She back?' Someone else spoke. Another familiar voice, but Saria couldn't remember whose.

‘Yeah.'

Soft footsteps padded across the stone floor, and Dreamer Wanji's wrinkled face was leaning over her, concerned.

‘How you feelin'?'

‘I …' She tried to sit up, but a wave of stomach-churning nausea swept through her before she was even halfway there.

‘Careful! Just lie there. You've had a big night.'

She lay on the cold rock, feeling its coolness beneath her shoulders and back. Sudden tiredness overcame her, and she closed her eyes again.

The room was light. Round. High. Smooth. Unnatural. Saria lay in the middle of it, on some kind of raised platform. From somewhere high above, up near the roof, she could hear the vague mutter of voices.

That wasn't the only noise, either. The room wasn't silent. A low hum, deep and resonant, echoed through the floor and out of the walls and up through her platform. The sound had an indefinable quality. Somehow, Saria knew that it was not made by any single object, but was the sound of this place. It was almost as if the room itself was alive, and the hum was its pulse.

Saria tried to sit upright, to look around, but the muscles of her arms and legs refused to respond. She tried to move her head, to shout out, but nothing happened. Her body seemed to be gone, taken from her control so that all she could do was lie and gaze at the round circle of the roof, so far above her.

Then darkness, and the hum faded away to nothing …

When she woke again, she sat up right away. She was still in the council chamber, but she'd been moved to beside the fire-pit. The fire itself was almost extinguished. The stillness and silence were absolute and at first she thought she was alone, but as she looked about she became aware of another's presence. A lone figure sat hunched in the darkness on the far side of the fire.

‘Hello?'

The old man jumped. ‘Girl! You back with us, eh?'

‘What happened?'

Dreamer Wanji's gait was slow as he made his way across and offered her a skinny hand. ‘You reckon you can get to your feet?'

‘I think so.' His hand was dry and thin around hers, and she was too scared to put any real weight onto it. Standing, dizziness overcame her, and she steadied herself against the old man.

‘Come an' sit.' Supporting her as best he could, Dreamer Wanji led her across to the nearest stone seat and eased her onto it.

‘Here.' A water-skin was held to her lips and she drank gratefully.

‘What happened?' She looked around. ‘Where are the council?'

‘All gone back up top. Didn't think we should move you for a while.'

‘What happened?'

‘What do you remember?' Dreamer Wanji lowered himself slowly onto the stone beside her.

‘I can remember … pain … and light … and, I think, heat. Something warm, and big.'

‘You got the reaching alright, girl.' The old man was nodding. ‘You got it somethin' powerful, too. Silly bloody Baanti never had a chance.'

‘What do you mean?'

The old man sighed. ‘This changes everything. It's my fault, too. I shoulda seen you first, not just pulled you straight down here.' He stopped and gazed at her, and the steadiness of the stare made her uncomfortable. The old man regarded her with something akin to hunger.

‘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.