Nightpeople (8 page)

‘Older than me, that's for sure,' Dariand interjected. ‘I've never heard it before.'

‘It must mean something,' Saria insisted. ‘Where's the valley full of bones?'

‘If there is one, it isn't in the Darklands,' Dariand answered.

‘How do you know?'

‘I'm a nightwalker. If there was something like that anywhere around, I'd know about it.'

‘Really?' Saria looked at him skeptically. ‘You've been everywhere in the Darklands?'

‘Pretty much. At least, everywhere people know about, and quite a few places they don't.'

‘What sort of places?'

‘Ma's valley for one. The soak for another.'

‘The soak?'

‘You'll see tomorrow.'

They lapsed into silence again while Dariand glanced up at the vaultlights, which he used to correct their course slightly.

‘We should come across the road again soon.'

‘What's a road?'

‘Remember those flat black rocks we followed across the landbridge?'

‘Yeah.'

‘That.'

Sure enough, only a little while later they intersected another of the black stone strips. Dariand turned them onto it, and they followed it nightwards.

‘Will this take us to Woormra?' Saria asked.

‘Eventually. There are shorter ways, though. We'll only follow it for a while tonight.'

‘What made it?'

‘Old people.'

‘Like Dreamer Gaardi?'

Both men laughed.

‘Nah, girl. Even older than me. These roads come from before the Shifting. Made by the people who lived here before us.'

‘Other people lived here?'

‘A long time ago.'

‘What happened to them?'

Saria caught the uneasy glance that Dariand threw at Dreamer Gaardi.

‘Nobody knows. There's a lotta old stories, but it's impossible to know what's true and what's made up. Dreamer Wanji can probably tell you some more when we get to Woormra, but until …' Dariand broke off in mid-sentence, then suddenly grabbed Saria's arm and dashed away from the road, running fast.

‘What …'

‘Quiet! Run!' he hissed.

Saria half-ran, half-stumbed behind him, aware of Dreamer Gaardi following them closely. Then, over the thud of their footsteps, she caught a slight, low-pitched humming which trembled through the night.

They came to a small, rocky hollow in the ground and Dariand unceremoniously flung her into it.

‘Get in and keep your head down!'

She didn't argue. The humming was rising in pitch and becoming louder. Dreamer Gaardi flung himself beside her and immediately began scraping sand over himself, signalling to her to do the same.

Dariand had vanished into the night, but suddenly he returned dragging an uprooted clump of spiny desert grass behind him, covering their tracks.

‘Get under this!'

He heaved the clump into the hollow and Dreamer Gaardi immediately arranged it above, hiding them from view.

Sand slithered like cold fingers into her robe and shoes, making her shiver.

‘Gotta be still, girl. Real still, okay?' Dreamer Gaardi's voice was a whisper His free arm snaked around her shoulders, drawing her as close as he could without disturbing her sandy covering.

‘What's happening?'

‘Nightpeople. Quiet, now.'

The humming was loud enough to hurt her ears; high-pitched, it vibrated into the earth and Saria could feel it through the sand.

Between the wiry leaves of the desert grass she could see only darkness and the occasional glimmer of a vaultlight.

‘Where's Dariand?'

‘Shh, girl, he'll be fine. He's like a rock, that one.'

A bright flash flickered across the landscape, momentarily blinding her.

‘Nightsun. Stay still, now.' The old man's thin arm tightened around her and Saria held her breath, waiting …

Abruptly, the intensity of the noise dropped and the high-pitched screaming faded from it. She felt Dreamer Gaardi relax.

‘Don't move yet, girl. Wait.'

Gradually the noise grew faint, but they lay in the hollow until the grass clump was jerked from over them.

‘Right.' Dariand towered above. ‘All clear.'

‘What was it?'

‘Nightpeople. Just a patrol along the road. Nothing to worry about.'

‘Why'd we have to hide from them, then?' Saria asked. ‘Who are they?'

Another uncomfortable look passed between the two men. After what had just happened both knew they owed her an answer. Eventually, Dreamer Gaardi spoke.

‘Ever since there's been the Darklands, there's been Nightpeople. There are old stories saying they're descendants of the Skypeople, who came to this land before the Shifting, but nobody really knows who they are or what they want.'

‘What's that noise they make?'

‘That's not them. That's their hummers. They use them to fly through the nightvault like birds.'

Saria digested this information for a couple of moments. People who could fly!

‘What do they look like?'

‘Never seen one myself. Dariand has, though.'

Saria looked at Dariand expectantly but was met with only a long silence. His eyes narrowed.

‘We shouldn't be tellin' her this stuff.'

‘Nah, it's alright,' Dreamer Gaardi replied. ‘She's better off knowing a bit about them. Especially if we're gonna keep hiding from them between here and Woormra. Dreamer Wanji won't mind if we explain.'

‘When did you see them?' Saria demanded.

‘They used to come down all the time. Whenever there was a birth, or to take water, or even sometimes just to take dirt. Mainly for births, though.'

‘Births?'

‘Whenever a child came along, it was a fair bet the Nightpeople would be there soon after. If the child was clean, they'd take it away. Its mother, too. It's one of the reasons that there aren't any kids like you left.'

‘Clean?'

‘Like you. Complete. All your arms and legs, a normal face. It used to be that even if a Darkland woman could get with a baby, chances were when it came out there'd be something wrong – missing an arm, or an eye or something. And when they came out perfect, the Nightpeople'd take them quick smart.'

‘Why? And why didn't they take me?'

‘We don't know why they take them. And they didn't get you because I sneaked you out of Woormra after you were born. Took you to the valley so Ma Lee could keep you outa the way.'

‘They didn't chase you?'

‘They didn't know you were alive. Dreamer Wanji fooled them. Made them think you'd been born dead and' – he hesitated – ‘impure. Like all the others.'

‘That was the night you saw one?'

‘No, not that night. That was later. Mostly they stopped coming after you were born. Stopped bringing their hummers down onto the land, and apart from patrols like that one along the road, they've kept to themselves ever since. Except for one. There was one who used to come down all the time, asking about you.'

‘Me?'

‘I think it suspected you were still alive. Used to stop in the towns, asking questions. Stopped me once while I was on my way back to Woormra from a hunting trip.' Dariand gave a low chuckle. ‘It never did find out anything, though.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because as far as most Darklanders know, you were born dead. So that's what they told it.'

‘Why would they think that?'

Dariand made a noncommittal gesture.

‘Dreamer Wanji didn't want you being common knowledge, so he let everyone think the same thing. What folk didn't know, they couldn't tell, he figured.'

‘So if I got killed now, nobody would care?'

‘Nobody would know. That doesn't mean they wouldn't care. If people knew about you, they'd care a lot, you'll find. Probably too much.'

Suddenly, Saria felt small, insignificant. She should have been told this before Dariand had dragged her away from the Valley. Before she could object, though, Dreamer Gaardi interjected.

‘Listen, girl,' he said, ‘Dreamer Wanji and Dariand did the right thing when they took you off. Whatever happens to you will touch everyone in the Darklands, right? Every man, every woman. That's why they did what they did. To give you a chance.'

‘Then why didn't anyone ever tell me about it? Ma could've …'

‘It wasn't Ma's place,' Dariand snapped. ‘Just like it's not your place to ask questions. When we get to Woormra, Dreamer Wanji will tell you everything he thinks you need to know. For the moment, though, you just have to keep walking, and trust Dreamer Gaardi and me.'

‘Why? So you can tell me about my life only when it suits you? Why should I trust you again ever?' Saria spat the words.

‘You don't have much choice,' he replied coldly. ‘Now let's get moving.'

He picked up his water-skins and led them back to and straight over the crumbling road.

‘It's probably safer to stay away from this now, if there are patrols about,' he said to Dreamer Gaardi.

Halfway across the road, Saria stopped and picked up a small rock. Like the one from the causeway, it was completely flat on one side and slightly soft to the touch. Holding it to her nose, she breathed its faint bitter odour.

No further patrols crossed their path and in the early dawn Dariand studied the remaining few vaultlights, then altered their course slightly.

‘Where are we going?'

‘Not far now. There's water and a place to rest.' They were the first words he'd spoken since their argument, and he was still clearly annoyed. Soon after, he led them down a rocky slope into a hollow depression. The sandy bottom was shaded by small trees and shrubs.

‘What is this place?'

‘It's called the soak. It means we're about halfway to Woormra. We'll rest here today.'

Dariand threw his water-skins and the small pouch he kept slung around his waist down in the shade.

‘Go and find some dry twigs and we'll make a fire,' he ordered Saria.

‘What about you?'

‘Dreamer Gaardi and I are going to get water and catch something to eat.'

‘Can I come?'

‘No. Get the twigs, bring them back, then wait right here for us. Don't go anywhere else. You'll find enough wood for the fire in that clump of scrub there.'

His tone made it clear that this was a command, not advice, and Saria bristled. She considered arguing but she was too tired; instead she whirled and stalked over to the brush. She knew his real reason for not letting her go with him: he didn't want her to be able to find food and drink for herself. As long as he kept her dependent on him, he could be reasonably sure that she wouldn't run.

But
he doesn't know I can reach animals,
she reminded herself.
And animals can always find food and water. So I'm not as powerless as he thinks. Or as useless. I don't have to follow him, not if I don't want to.

She clung to that thought. It fuelled her anger and also gave her a tiny bit of hope.

As Dariand had said, there were plenty of dry leaves and sticks beneath the bushes and she gathered them angrily, dropping them in a pile near their gear.

The two men would be gone for some time, and Saria slumped onto the sand to wait. She lay back and listened to the clicks and buzzes of insects. She was tired and wanted to sleep, but even the soporific effect of the morning sun couldn't wash away the nagging feeling of powerlessness that kept returning to niggle at her, expecially when she thought of Dariand.

Saria
!

The call was just as strong, just as intense as ever, but this time it didn't catch her by surprise; it was almost as though she'd been expecting it. It swept through her with all its usual summoning power, but now she noticed it had a soothing quality as well. It helped her to push her annoyance with Dariand to the back of her mind, and to give in to the wash of earthwarmth flowing through her.

Then it faded, draining her anger with it, leaving her with only tiredness and aching muscles. She was asleep in seconds.

The afternoon sun reached between the branches and shone directly into Saria's face waking her. She sat up slowly. Dariand and Dreamer Gaardi were both still asleep nearby, and she rubbed at her eyes, trying to dislodge some of the grittiness.

A couple of water-skins lay among their provisions. The sun had warmed it to the temperature of blood, and the water had a strange woody taste, but it wet her lips and tongue and relieved a little of the dryness. A few scraps of meat had been set aside on a piece of bark, clearly for her to have when she woke. She picked one up and chewed at it absently, looking around at the same time.

In the early afternoon the soak was silent; any living creatures there were clearly sleeping, just like the two men.

Saria rose and climbed the slope up to the plains. It took only a few moments to pick her way to the top. From there, the Darklands stretched away, seemingly endless and largely featureless. Under the shimmering dayvault, the whole landscape quivered and blured. It was dizzying, the size of the land. After a childhood spent confined within the protective walls of the valley, being alone on the edge of such an expanse of nothingness left her unsettled and vertiginous.

After a short while she had to turn away and was about to clamber back down into the soak when something caught her eye.

Smoke.

Just over the daywards horizon, a thin column of smoke smudged the air, barely more than a grey thread against the enormous blue. Shielding her eyes, Saria tried to make it out more clearly, but in the haze along the horizon it remained vague.

Saria hesitated, remembering the fire that Dariand had produced from stones the previous day. If he could do that, surely other people could too and apart from Olympic this smoke was the first sign she'd seen of other people in the Darklands. Her immediate impulse was to rush back down out of sight, into the relative safety of the soak, and to wake Dariand. But she didn't. Instead, she studied the column.

It didn't look all that far away. It was hard to be certain, but the horizon seemed close and the smoke only just the other side of it. If there were people there, it would be good to show Dariand that she wasn't as helpless as he might like. Saria imagined his expression if she woke him, not simply with a tale of smoke over the daywards horizon but with knowledge of who was making it and how many people.

All she'd have to do would be to get a little closer, find a lizard or something, and reach. Most wild creatures' senses extended far beyond that of humans. The people at the fire would never even know she was there. Just like at Olympic.

She studied the smoke again, more thoughtfully now. It was probably no more than a quick walk away. If she went to investigate it alone, Dariand would be angry, that was certain. But it would also show him that she wasn't just some girl to be bossed around. It would prove to him that she had skills and powers of her own. It might even persuade him to trust
her
for a while – to tell her something of what was in store for her when they reached Woormra. In that moment, she made her decision.

Slipping back down into the soak, she looked again at the two sleeping men. The sun was still high – they'd sleep for hours yet.

Taking a water-skin, she started back towards the scree, then, remembering, returned to slip her shoes on. The laces gave her some difficulty. Every time she tried to knot the leather thonging it either came undone right away or fell loose around her ankles the moment she stood up. Eventually she managed a couple of awkward knots that held the leather pouches in place.

At the edge of the grove of trees she hesitated, but only for a moment. On the daywards horizon, clearly visible now she was aware of it, the smoke column rose into the air like a beacon or a solid rock pinnacle, and unhesitatingly Saria started towards it.

Walking in daylight was different from walking at night. Within moments, heat was radiating up from the red dirt, even through her shoes, making her feet uncomfortably hot and sweaty. Added to that, the shoes were loose, allowing sand to trickle inside, scraping and rubbing skin from her toes and soles.

The sun was more fierce than she'd imagined. It scorched unwaveringly, her skin tingled at its touch.

All of this was nothing, though, compared with the space. After some time walking Saria stopped to take a drink, and looked around.

During her walking with Dariand and Dreamer Gaardi, night had brought the edges of the world closer, cloaking the distance in darkness, so she hadn't really been aware of the sheer size of the world. Now, alone in the middle of the plains, the daylight stripped away the landscape, making everything huge and distant: the dayvault, the earth. Revolving slowly on the spot, dizziness overwhelmed her and she had to sit quickly and heavily to avoid falling.

Panic threatened to overcome her and she closed her eyes, squeezing them tight against the enormity of the land and breathing deeply until she felt calm enough to open them again. It took all her strength of will to lock her gaze on the smoke column. It didn't seem to have come any closer, but that wasn't surprising as she'd only been walking for a little while. Fighting the impulse to curl up under that enormous dayvault and hide in the darkness of her mind, she walked on. The vastness of the plains continued to threaten, pressing in, trying to draw her eyes outward, to divert her from her task.

She kept on walking, never wavering, never stopping for water or rest, afraid to drop her eyes. The smoke seemed to get further away, though, and as the day began to cool, Saria stopped again. She'd been gone now for much longer than she'd intended. Her lips were cracked and dry, and when she took a sip from the water-skin, the water burned when it touched them.

I have to go back,
she finally decided. Dariand would be furious, but she'd just have to face that.

When she turned fear settled in an icy knot in her belly.

There were no tracks to follow. The hard-packed dirt had barely scuffed below her feet and a slight breeze had shifted the thin layer of surface dust; all that remained of her path was a series of shallow scuffs going back fifteen or so steps before vanishing into the desert wastes.

Desperately, Saria searched the nightwards horizon for some feature, some indication of where the soak hid, tucked below the level of the surrounding desert. There was nothing, and, even if there had been, the sun was dropping rapidly to the horizon and hiding much of the plains nightwards of her in its glare.

Breathing deeply, Saria looked around for some rocks or boulders, anything that might hide a lizard or even a tiny skink. All she found was dead, empty dirt. The only sign of life anywhere was the rapidly fading smoke column, and so Saria began walking on towards it as fast as she could manage, afraid that when night fell it too would be lost to her sight.

The horizon continued to darken, turning from white to blue to purple to grey, until Saria had to strain just to make out the smear of darkness against the deepening vault. Vaultlights began to come out overhead, until she dropped her eyes to her feet, just for a moment, and when she looked up the smoke had vanished.

Flopping to the ground, Saria fought back tears, and for the first time became aware of how hot she was; her arms, her legs, even her scalp were burning. It took only a moment to tug her shoes off. Sand had rubbed the skin raw between her toes and blood smeared the heel of her left foot. Wincing, she squirted a small amount of water over her feet, then lay on her back and looked up into the night, hoping to spot one of the strange, fast-moving vaultlights as it soared across the sky.

There were none, and as night settled Saria allowed herself to slip into its comforting grasp.

Dreams came to her. Strange, hot dreams of smoke and burning and fire. She dreamed of the Silver Lake, of a woman with dark skin and soft hair. She dreamed she was being carried to a place of smooth, shining curves in the vault. Voices whispered, but she couldn't understand them. She dreamed that a cool wind was blowing her across the land, and she dreamed about the insect in the dune bush. Through all her dreams, she was aware of that deep burning, somewhere a long way off, reaching right into her and eating her thoughts.

Lost in these fevered visions, Saria wasn't even aware of being found. She didn't feel herself being lifted and carried daywards across the plains, in the same direction she'd been travelling. She wasn't aware of the poking and prodding of curious fingers. The first she knew of any of this was when she woke to find herself tied up.