Nightpeople (23 page)

The people of Woormra turned to face the intruders, but most were still fire-blind and their old, bare fists were little use against the weapons their attackers carried.

All the same, scuffles broke out and in seconds the common became a nightmare of struggling bodies, screams and blood. Saria whirled in confusion, looking for an escape.

‘There she is! There! Get her!' someone shouted, and a couple of hulking shadows detached themselves from one of the fighting groups. Saria stumbled backwards as they rushed towards her, only to be grabbed from behind.

‘Steady, girl,' a voice growled, and an old man pulled her behind him. ‘Woormra'll look out for you. Don't …'

There was a sickening thud as a stone connected with the man's temple, and he crumpled to the ground, blood welling from the wound.

Then the two attackers were almost on top of her. She dodged sideways, managing to evade the first, but before she could run the other one caught her, seizing her in a vice-like grip which almost crushed the air from her. The two men started fighting their way towards the edge of the common, one pulling her along close to his chest while the other used a heavy club to keep at bay anyone who might try to stop them. If they got to the edge of the fight, Saria knew she'd be lost. They'd drag her into the darkness of the alleyways, where they probably had more men waiting, and then nobody would be able to help her. She twisted and clawed, striking out at the grinning face of the man who held her and raking her fingernails across his cheeks. Warm trails of blood welled beneath her fingertips, the sensation both sickening and strangely satisfying.

The man screamed and his grip loosened slightly, giving Saria just enough leeway to wriggle around and stamp all her weight onto his foot.

‘Damn! How about a bloody hand here!' he shouted, but nobody seemed to hear him. His escort with the club had vanished into the melee and everyone else in the attacking party seemed occupied with their own opponents.

The people of Woormra, with the initial shock of the attack behind them, had now rallied. Weapons of their own were appearing, they had the advantage of numbers, and the battle which a few moments earlier had looked to be all but over now raged anew.

Despite his difficulty, Saria's captor seemed determined not to relinquish his prize. He fought his way closer to the edge, angling for the dark mouth of one of the wider alleyways, dragging Saria behind him with one hand and with the other clubbing aside anyone who came between him and his goal. Only once did he pause, and that was to hiss at her, ‘Stop struggling or I'll wring yer bloody neck!' The threat only drove her to greater efforts.

He didn't get a chance to make good the promise. He had to keep swerving and dodging to avoid being cornered. Suddenly, though, they found themselves in a hole in the fighting, and he stopped and swung Saria around to face him.

‘I warned you!' he muttered, and, before she had time to avoid it, he brought his free fist crashing down onto the top of her head.

Flashes of light exploded behind her eyes and the edges of her vision greyed. She felt her knees beginning to buckle and, as they did so, the man scooped her up and over his shoulder.

‘Saria!' The voice seemed to come from a long way away. ‘Saria!'

Dariand flung himself into the back of the other man's knees, almost but not quite bringing him down.

‘Bugger!' The big man grunted and directed a savage kick in Dariand's direction, but the nightwalker was too quick for him and deftly rolled aside.

Dariand sprang back to his feet and confronted the man.

‘Put her down, Bolt.' His voice was low.

‘Make me.'

‘I won't let you take her.'

‘You can try to stop me, if you want.'

The greyness was clearing from her vision but Saria was still having trouble focusing her thoughts. Everything – the noise, the fighting, even Dariand – seemed dull and distant. Something was there, though. Something close and warm, hanging in front of her.

Bolt.

His mind.

The large man tightened his grip on Saria as she felt her mental barriers starting to crumble and falter. She wasn't touching the ground, couldn't draw earthwarmth up directly into herself, but he was. In a flash of understanding, Saria knew that if she wanted to she could draw it through him. It would be that simple.

And then she could burn him.

A familiar tingle ran through her body. A warm shudder of anticipation. It would be so easy. Already she could feel the Earthmother through the sweaty arm that twined around her waist.

All she had to do was sink into it.

Earthwarmth shivered up through Bolt and along her spine. She felt the man stiffen slightly …

And then he began to scream as a growling, sandy-yellow shadow flung itself out of the battle and into the back of his legs, teeth sinking deep into the muscle of his left calf.

‘Argh!'

He dropped Saria and immediately turned his attention to trying to detach the dog from his leg. She fell hard and awkwardly, her arm wrenching under her with a sharp twist of pain. She barely felt it, though. Suddenly cut off from the pulsing earthwarmth that she'd been pulling into herself, she struggled to contain a wave of nausea.

Nearby, Bolt was lying sprawled, with the dog still worrying at his ankle which was in a terrible state, torn and bloody. The animal's jaws were stained red and a savage, trembling growl ululated from the back of its throat.

‘You bastard!' the man screamed, using his good leg to throw a kick. It connected against the side of the dog's head and the animal yelped, relinquishing its grip for just a second before launching itself back again, this time going for Bolt's throat as the man tried desperately to crawl away.

‘No!' Saria gasped, and even through the fog of confusion, she pulled up enough earthwarmth to reach the command at the animal.

The dog hesitated, momentarily distracted at the touch of her mind on his. He turned towards her slightly, automatically opening his mind and senses to her, and that was all the time it took for Bolt to roll over, for his grasping right hand to close around the handle of a heavy wooden club that had been abandoned in the fighting, and for him to bring it crashing down on the animal's skull with all the force he could muster.

There was a sickening crunch, and then nothing.

All Saria could hear was the distant sound of her own screaming.

Floating. Warm currents of air carried her higher and higher as she drifted. Below her, the hard red earth she knew so well slipped further away. There were people down there. She could feel them, but not people like she knew them, people … like … insects. Brief sparks of life danced across the landscape and then were gone again. And the higher she floated, the smaller and briefer they became.

Here were shapes. High up. Cold, smooth curves against the nightvault. Walls that didn't hold out the light. Walls the sun walked through. There were people here, too, but people without the incandescent sparks of those insect people on the ground. These people were … nothingness … Puffs of smoke, insubstantial and formless in the immense brightness of the dayvault. The sky was a desert too, she realised.

And power … It hummed through the skycurves, cradling and protecting the smoke people. It was a power that had never touched the Earth. A savage and harsh power. Born in the sky, living in the sky. Energy, pure and untempered, which pulsed and danced through the vaults like blood.

She lay on something pliant but cold. The light above was clean and white and the room was round and hummed softly. When she woke, she was frightened. Nothing was as it should be, and she tried to pull earthwarmth up into herself but it wasn't there. Nothing was there. Only the cold pulse of the skyfire which burned at her mind if she tried to touch it. And she tried to reach, but there was nothing. Nobody. Only smoke and skyfire. So she drew what little earthwarmth she could muster from the very core of her body, and poured it out into the cold smoothness as she screamed for those closest to her.

DARRI!

SARIA!

And as she felt her body cooling around her, all she heard in reply was silence …

Silence.

Deep, total silence filled the underground cavern.

The cold heaviness of the stone below her was the first sensation to seep into her conscious mind. A figure leaned over her.

‘Saria? You okay, girl? You waking up?'

‘Where …?'

‘Shh. Don't talk. Just take it easy. Here … drink.'

The nozzle of a water-skin pressed against her parched lips, and Saria felt the trickle at the back of her throat.

‘What happened?'

‘Dariand got you away from the fighting. You're safe for now.'

Dreamer Gaardi placed a gentle hand on her elbow and helped her into a sitting position. Her head pounded and her arm throbbed where she'd twisted it.

‘Where is he?'

‘Dariand?'

She nodded.

‘Gone back up to help Dreamer Wanji try and settle things down. Slander and his mob have backed off, at least for the moment.'

‘Why…?' Saria rubbed at the sides of her temples, trying to clear the fuzziness from her thoughts, but to no effect.

‘Quiet, girl.' The old man's voice was gentle. ‘You been through a rough night. Not many Dreamers can take bein' connected to something when it dies. I reckon that dog took a little bit of you with it when it went, eh? So you just take it easy.'

Slowly, bits and pieces of the nightmare came back to her

‘The dog. Did it …'

‘Dead.' Dreamer Gaardi placed a warm hand on her arm. ‘Bolt killed it. We were all worried that you might've gone with it.'

‘What happened to me?'

‘You screamed a lot. Then nothing.'

‘I fainted?'

‘No.' Dreamer Gaardi's expression was puzzled. ‘No. If you faint, Dreamer Wanji and I, we'd still be able to feel you. You'd still be in that body, somewhere. Nah, you just … left us. Dunno where you went but for a while there we thought you'd been burnt out. You were just like that. Like there was nothing inside. Dreamer Wanji just about went crazy.'

‘I was …' Saria struggled to remember, but her memories were jumbled and chaotic and already fading like smoke into the vault.

Smoke.

‘There were people. But not us. It was …' The recollections were all too blurred. ‘Help me up.'

‘You sure?'

She didn't answer, just extended a hand towards him, and with a shrug the old man took her hand and hauled her to her feet, where she tottered so unsteadily he had to help her stand.

‘Careful there. Come and sit down on one of the rocks.'

They were in the council chamber. A tiny dung-fire burning in the central pit threw a small ring of warmth out over them. Dreamer Gaardi lowered her onto one of the stones.

‘How'd I get down here?'

‘Dariand brought you down after he got you away from that fight. Seemed like the safest place. Not too many people know the right passages, an' you wouldn't wanna risk getting lost trying to fluke it. There's a lotta very deep and dark holes to fall into down here.'

‘She's okay?' Dreamer Wanji's voice floated from somewhere in the darkness, concern in his tone.

‘Seems fine to me. A little shook up, that's all.'

Dreamer Wanji emerged from the shadows, Dariand beside him. Saria briefly wondered how they managed to find their way down without any light, but didn't ask. The two men stood over her with worried expressions.

‘Night spirits, girl! That was a close thing. If that dog hadn't …' Dreamer Wanji stopped when he saw the tears fill her eyes. ‘Prob'ly saved your life, you know.'

‘I reached for him.'

‘Did you?' The Dreamer's face betrayed nothing.

‘And now he's dead, too. Just like Baanti.'

‘That's silly thinkin', girl. That dog's dead because Slander and his mob don't have the brains or the patience to come and talk about things. Not because of anything you did, okay?'

Saria didn't respond.

Silence filled the vast cave, until Dreamer Gaardi turned to the two men. ‘What's goin' on up top now?'

‘The Olympic mob've settled down. Pulled out to camp a bit away to daywards. They're sending a delegation in later.'

‘What for?'

‘Council business.' Dreamer Wanji's short tone made it clear that he didn't want to be discussing this in front of Saria.

‘It's about me,' she said flatly, staring right into the old man's eyes as she spoke, daring him to lie to her. He dropped his gaze.

‘Yeah.'

‘What do they want?'

‘They've heard what happened with Baanti. They reckon that gives them a claim over you.'

‘A claim?'

‘Every town needs a Dreamer who can reach. It's always been the way of things in the Darklands. They reckon that seeing as you burnt out Baanti you should take his place. They reckon they gotta right to claim you as the next Dreamer for Olympic.'

‘Crap!' Dariand spat into the fire. ‘They want to hand her off to the Nightpeople for whaever they can get, that's the only reason they're interested. If they seriously thought they had a case for claiming her as a Dreamer they'd have come before the council, not tried to take her by force.'

‘Probably. But Slander's made his claim now, and the council's gotta hear it.'

‘Why?' Saria asked.

‘That's the way it's always been done. We haven't survived this long by ignoring our laws and traditions.'

‘We haven't survived this long by invading one another's towns with spears and clubs, either.'

Dariand's eyes narrowed. ‘I'm not gonna let them take her, Dreamer Wanji.'

‘That's the council's decision, Dariand. You gotta claim, too, you know.'

‘Don't worry, I'll make it. But if the council don't back it up …'

‘Let's take that as it happens, eh?'

‘When are we meeting, then?' Dreamer Gaardi asked.

‘Soon as possible. I've sent Berni over to Mooka to put the word out there. Couple of days, probably.'

‘What do we do in the meantime?'

Dreamer Wanji nodded at Saria.

‘We gotta keep you safe and that means out of sight. I don't trust Slander one little bit. His lot've already tried to take you once, and if they've got an inkling of where you are they'll try it again. So I reckon you should stay down here for the moment.'

‘Here?' The thought of spending the next couple of days in the cold darkness of the council cavern made her tremble. ‘Can't I just hide in a hut?'

‘Too dangerous.' Dreamer Wanji left no room for argument. ‘You can bet that Slander'll have people sneaking all over Woormra lookin' for you. Nah, only safe place is here in the caverns.'

‘But …'

Dariand interrupted her before she could argue the point.

‘He's right, Saria. It's the safest place. Not too many know their way down here.'

Sighing, Saria hugged her arms close to her chest.

‘It's cold.'

‘Don't worry, you won't be spending your time here in the chamber.'

‘Where then?'

A look passed between the three men. Dreamer Wanji nodded and Dariand knelt and rummaged in a hide bag that had been dropped beside one of the council stones. He pulled out a torch and lit it in the fire, then slung the bag across his back.

‘Come on.'

She followed him, walking on unsteady legs towards the chamber's main entrance. The large tunnel loomed out of the darkness ahead like an empty maw, but to Saria's surprise Dariand didn't lead her into it. Instead, he turned to one side and started skirting around the edge.

‘Where are we going?'

‘There's a lot more to these tunnels than just the council chamber, Saria,' Dariand answered.

As they made their way around the inside wall of the cavern, Saria began to get some sense of how large it really was. She'd assumed that the council stones and fire-pit were the central point, but the further Dariand led her, the further away they became.

‘It's enormous.'

‘Yeah.' In the flickering torchlight, Dariand's features were split by long shadows, lending him an eerie appearance. ‘Nobody knows how the Skypeople made them, but they didn't use their hands, that's for sure. Here we are.'

Ahead of them, a narrow fissure opened in the wall. Dariand stepped into it without hesitation.

‘Come on.'

The opening was narrow, the rock torn and jagged, different from the smooth, faceted walls of the chamber. Saria had to turn slightly to fit through, and as she did so her bare arm brushed against the rock. She gasped.

‘What is it?' Dariand stopped and looked back, concern on his face.

‘This rock in here. It's different from the chamber. It has earthwarmth.'

‘I wouldn't know about that. But this passage wasn't part of the Skypeople's tunnels.'

‘It's not?'

‘No. We don't know what made it. Dreamer Wanji thinks it probably opened up in the Shifting.'

Once through the opening the tunnel widened out and angled slightly uphill. Dariand led her along it, ducking his head occasionally to avoid hanging outcrops which dropped from the ceiling. As they climbed further from the council chamber, it grew steadily warmer.

‘Almost there.'

He stopped at a point where the tunnel forked into two separate passages, then led her into the right-hand one. Before following, Saria stopped and peered into the inky blackness of the other. A cool breeze washed over her as she stared into the darkness, and from somewhere above a faint whispering echoed softly along the rough walls.

‘Where does that go?'

‘The surface. It's a breathing tunnel.'

‘A what?'

‘That's how the air moves in and out of the main tunnel and the chamber. There's hundreds of these little cracks running up to the ground.'

‘Where does it come out?'

‘No idea.'

‘You've never followed it?'

‘I've tried, but it gets too narrow, just a little way up. There's no way through for anything except air and smoke.'

‘Oh.' She stood a moment longer, enjoying the moist taste of the moving air, then scurried to catch up with Dariand again before he carried the light too far ahead. Finally he stopped, dropped to his hands and knees and crawled into a tiny dark opening down at floor level, shoving the torch ahead of him.

For a moment his body blocked the light and Saria was plunged into darkness so complete that a surge of adrenaline tingled through her, panic close behind it. But then dull, flickering light washed out through the crawlspace and across the floor

‘Come on in.' Dariand's voice was muffled by the hanging wall between them. Kneeling, Saria peered into the gap to see Dariand crouching beside a low stone fire circle. Ducking her head, she crawled in behind him.

‘What is this place?'

They were in a small underground room, no bigger than the inside of a hut but with a roof and walls of stone instead of tin or wood. The space was roughly square, with a fire circle in the middle and narrow stone recesses carved into two of the walls. In these were a couple of rolled-up sleeping mats and some water-skins. The smoke from the torch and the fire curled lazily around the roof, before vanishing into a narrow crack at the top of a jumbled pile of rocks against the far wall.