The Night Land, a Story Retold

by James Stoddard

  Knowing the Master Monstruwacan must have watched me through every hour of my journey, I realized what a bad beginning I had made by walking past my endurance. How he must have scolded me from his seat within the tower! This thought stirred me to open my scrip and remove my travel rations: three pale tablets that I ate at once. Despite their size, they provided a nutritious meal, but left the stomach feeling empty. I produced a long tube from my scrip and squeezed a few grains of a golden powder into a metal cup. Upon contact with air, the powder fizzed and became liquid, swirling up to the rim. I drank it with some trepidation, since it was so different from my normal sustenance, but despite being bland, it proved nourishing, if not as satisfying as I would have liked.

  Without those peculiar foods, my journey would have been impossible, for there was nothing to eat in all the Night Land, whereas I could carry enough supplies within my scrip to last weeks. According to our Records, we had developed the powder and the tablets centuries before, during a period when the crops in the Underground Fields temporarily failed.

  As I drank my meal, I went over the equipment I had brought, laying the objects side by side upon the flat rock. Besides the scrip and diskos, I had a pouch containing several useful tools and the only personal object I had brought with me, my battered copy of Ayleos' Mathematics. I opened its yellow cover and thumbed through the pages. I did not know why I had brought it; I had a vague notion that its formulas might be useful in some way, and I thought I could keep a journal of my travels in the blank pages at the back. Whatever my reason, it comforted me to hold it there in the darkness, knowing these were the same equations used from time immemorial. I tucked the volume gingerly back into my pouch.

  There was also a compass, hand-made by the Master Monstruwacan—so I could finally test whether it indicated direction outside the redoubt. Since I remembered using compasses in my former life, I felt confident it would work, but when I set it down, it spun wildly, presumably still too near the fissure containing the Earth Current.

  It pleased me to think of my mentor watching me test the device; since the light was good around the fire-hole, I thought he could see, though I could not be certain. Having used the Great Spyglass countless hours, I knew the wavering fires and rising smoke often gave observers an unexpectedly clear view at times and an unanticipated obscurity at others.

  After observing the compass a while, I returned it to my pouch. I considered beginning my journal, but it seemed pointless to do so, since the whole pyramid had seen my progress, and the Monstruwacans were recording my every move. Actually, I was too exhausted to do anything but lie down beside the fire-hole, wrap my cloak around me, and compose myself for sleep. I kept my diskos beneath my cloak, taking comfort from its cold metal.

  As I drifted into slumber, a vague surging of the ether reminded me that the whole redoubt watched over me, their hearts stirred by how fragile I must have looked, sleeping like a baby among the horrors of the world. I slept better knowing they watched, but was uneasy as well. I thought of Andrew, striding boldly between the hedge gap to face Mirdath's assailants. I was twenty-one years old, ten years younger than when he had first met her; sometimes I thought of him almost as a mentor. Would I face danger as bravely as he, or would I turn coward? How strange it felt, wanting to measure up to the man I once was.

  My last hazy thoughts were of Naani, and I spoke to her in my dreams.

  ***

  A tremendous noise shook me from my sleep, and as I came to my senses, I caught the last reverberations of the Home Call. Without hesitation, I slid from beneath my cloak, my hand on my weapon.

  Seeing nothing but the shadows around me, I glanced quickly at the pyramid, hoping for some sign to indicate what had forced Cartesius to risk alerting the Forces of Evil to my presence. I knew without doubt some terror approached, and I shifted my gaze back and forth between the Tower of Observation and my immediate surroundings, while my whole body trembled with fear and excitement.

  Far up in the heights, I saw the darting, emerald flashes of the Set Speech. For an instant I was too panicked to decipher their meaning and had to force myself to concentrate. The message warned of a monster crawling toward me through the low moss bushes at my back.

  I dove into the vegetation to my left and crouched in hiding. My heart pounded in my chest; sweat broke across my brow. I gripped my diskos.

  No sooner had I taken my place, when a Gray Man, twice my height, slipped with serpentine grace out of the bushes beyond the fire-hole. It squinted as if half-blinded from the glare of the flames, and kept its head, which wove from side to side like a viper's, almost level with the ground. I doubt it saw beyond the fire at all, for it soon slithered back among the bushes, only to poke its head out at another place.

  It did this three times to my right and three to my left, each time laying its head against the earth, its shoulders hunched, thrusting its jaws forward and turning its neck with the instinctive movements of an animal. Every time it vanished into the bushes, I thought it had seen me and was planning to seize me from behind.

  Finally, it moved away, as if preparing to depart, passing around the circle of the fire-hole and vanishing at the spot where it had first appeared.

  I drew a ragged breath, but remained crouched, watching and listening while my pulse hammered in my temples. As the moments passed, my breathing grew steadier. The night lay quiet.

  Just as I was preparing to crawl away from the spot, I heard the voice of the Master Monstruwacan calling to my soul in the barest whisper.

  It circles behind you!

  My skin crawled. The beating of the Master Word following the message left no doubt that my old friend, knowing of my Night Hearing, had used the Instruments to send a warning.

  I leapt from my position into another clump of undergrowth and crouched again, watching all around, trying despite my anxiety to keep my ears and spirit open to both the Monstruwacan's warnings and my enemy’s approach.

  The slightest rustling drew my eyes to the right. An enormous, gnarled hand parted the bushes behind the place where I had previously been. Gray eyes peered out, the gray head followed, and the Gray Man rushed forward.

  Even as it pounced, I leapt, swinging my diskos with all my strength. The weapon spun, emitting a sparking fire, as if alive and thirsting for blood. I struck the creature across the neck, decapitating it.

  The Gray Man writhed in its death throes, uprooting the bushes all around. I backed away and crouched to watch it die, my eyes fixed in morbid fascination. In all my life, this was the first thing I had ever killed, and it surprised me to see the creature so easily slain.

  When at last it became still, I strode to the far side of the fire-hole and stood with my diskos held high and spinning, discharging fire so my people would know I had destroyed the beast, in case the shadows had hidden our battle. Perhaps this sounds barbaric, but I was elated with victory; despite my fear, I had not panicked or run away in terror, but had stood and fought. I had passed my rite of initiation into the Night Land. And beyond even the relief of having accomplished that, the acclaim of all the millions pulsing around me made me feel as if I were not entirely alone.

  At that moment I longed for the Master Monstruwacan to speak again, to share my triumph. Of course, he did nothing so foolish, for every communication threatened to alert the Evil Forces of my presence.

  When my elation passed, I found myself trembling all over. At last I gathered my wits and checked my chronometer. To my dismay, I found I had slept ten hours. I vowed never again to repeat my mistake of traveling to the point of exhaustion.

  Circling the fire-hole, I grabbed my cloak, gave one more glance to the pyramid sloping up into the darkness, and continued my journey. It may seem foolish to say I held my diskos with new respect, but having seen its power, I now thought of it as a trusted companion. For the first time I understood the generations-old restriction forbidding anyone from handling another’s diskos, a ban prompted by the belief that the weapon would not on
ly prove unresponsive to a stranger's touch, but harmful to anyone who insisted on using it. Perhaps the ancient knights felt the same way about their swords. Because of the prohibition, every man and woman carried their diskoi with them on The Last Road in the Country of Silence, where the weapon was given back to the Earth Current.

  After my encounter with the Gray Man, I became skittish, constantly glancing over my shoulder, pausing at the slightest sound, and seeing assailants where none existed. In addition, I grew faint, having once more played the fool by not eating breakfast. Realizing my mistake, I sat down in a clear spot among the bushes, where I chewed the three tablets and drank the water made from the golden powder. I forced myself to rest as well, occasionally glancing at the lights of the Great Pyramid, so close but so unreachable. I remained vigilant, listening with ears and soul and keeping my diskos across my knees, but nothing approached.

  As I sat there, the sheer enormity of the Night Land seemed to seep into me, a country so huge I could travel across its surface, surrounded by every manner of horror, and still escape detection because of its sheer size. The thought both comforted and disturbed me, for if the land was large enough for me to go undetected, how could I ever hope to find Naani and the Lesser Redoubt?

  Such despairing thoughts were not for me, however, and to escape them, I soon climbed back to my feet and continued walking for six hours to the north and west. In my concern for Naani, I decided not to travel so far northwest, but to save time by keeping more to the north, even though it brought me closer to the Northwest Watcher. This was a rash decision, for if that grim behemoth saw me and signaled a Force of Evil, I would die a terrible death. But the heart is an unruly organ, given to sudden terrors and inexplicable foolishness. It could be that an Evil Influence affected me at that moment; I do not know.

  I went another six hours before halting to eat, traveling cautiously and staying among the moss bushes whenever I could find them. Sometimes I was forced to cross bare patches of stony ground where choking sulphur roiled in heavy clouds along the earth. Though I tried to watch in every direction, my eyes were drawn more and more toward the Watcher of the Northwest, whose unholy presence filled all that part of the country. A growing suspicion rose within me that it already knew I was there, a misgiving that drove me to crawl from bush to bush to escape its sight. The sharp stones cut my hands at first, until I remembered the armored gloves in my belt. Again, I lamented my lack of experience in not thinking to wear them before.

  Eighteen hours after my battle with the Gray Man, I began to search for somewhere to sleep, and soon reached a place where the land, shattered by subterranean pressures, made a steep descent. I lay on my stomach on the ridge line and peered down the cliff-side a long time, searching for danger. Seeing none, I rose and walked along the rim until I spied a narrow shelf jutting out of the rocks a few feet down. Being both hard to see and to reach, it seemed to offer some measure of safety. Nothing could come at me from below without a difficult climb, and I would hear any monster approaching from above and could escape by slipping to the bottom of the cliff.

  More than once, I nearly fell climbing down, but when I reached the bare ledge, its relative safety comforted me, for the rocks overhung it in such a way that drawing close to the wall made me invisible from above. If I leaned out slightly, however, and looked back, I could still see the top third of the Last Redoubt, its lights shining through the darkness. I glanced up at its summit, where the Master Monstruwacan might even then be focusing the Great Spyglass upon me.

  I ate my dinner, and being bone-weary, lay down on my left side, my back against the rock, my head upon my pouch and scrip, my diskos against my chest, my cloak covering me. The moment I composed myself for slumber, two things occurred to me: first, that to judge by my grumbling stomach, the tablets and powder were not particularly filling; second, that I had miscalculated my meals. Despite my plan to eat three times in twenty-four hours, I had actually had four meals, once at waking, then once every six of the eighteen hours.

  "What a fool!" I whispered. "Was anyone ever less prepared? An idiot and a glutton, that’s what I am. But at least I know I'm not starving . . . even if it feels like I am."

  I chuckled. For some reason this lifted my spirits—so far I had made error after error, yet there I was, still alive. I decided to continue eating four meals, since that seemed to fit my schedule, but to use only two tablets each time. That sobered me somewhat, since it meant living on even less, but thankfully, my anxiety for Naani had kept me from eating much during the last month, and my stomach had already shrunk. Small comfort, that.

  "Tomorrow, meals will be lean," I murmured, through half-closed lids. "Lean, lean, lean." I drifted into a watchful sleep.

  ***

  I awoke, and finding nothing to fear, looked at the dial of my chronometer. My unconscious mind had followed my instructions well, rousing me after little more than six hours. Groaning, I pulled myself to my feet and ate two of the tablets. Already, I longed for solid food—my stomach gnawed on itself—but I drank some of the water, which helped ease the pain. I wound my cloak about me, put my diskos on my hip and my scrip and pouch in their places, and peered over the ledge into the night. Seeing neither brute nor monster, I glanced at the Great Pyramid, which still looked quite close because of its colossal size. The sheer solitude of my journey seemed suddenly overwhelming, so that I descended the ledge quickly and strode away, trying to leave my homesickness behind. I soon became aware that I was being careless, however—and remembering my previous errors of the day before—slowed my pace and took my diskos in hand.

  Having always seen the Night Land from the pyramid, I was fascinated by the shifting patterns of my changing perspective, which revealed new details in every monstrous form. This proved more than a little confusing, and I found myself having to constantly regain my bearings.

  At the fourteenth hour, I drew nearly parallel to the Watcher of the Northwest, which stood about a mile to my right. It had been visible from the pyramid's base, though I had traveled over fifty miles to reach it. Up close, it's sheer size terrified me as I crawled among the moss bushes, glimpsing it between the fronds. Rearing before me, a living mountain, it seemed a completely different monster than the one I had always known. I was amazed at the way its chin projected toward the Last Redoubt, like a jutting cliff hollowed at its center, hanging before the flames of the Red Pit, scorched by their crimson glow. With its scored face it resembled less a living creature than a sculpture, worn by the eons.

  In my fascination, I soon found I had crept closer than I intended, and for a moment all the terrors of childhood engulfed me. My courage abruptly failed; I could not go on, but lay upon my stomach, scarcely able to breath. But when the Watcher did not notice me; when its titanic head did not swivel around, as in my fear I imagined it might, my terror faded. I realized how small I must be to such a one, hidden as I was in shadow and the thick shelter of the bushes. Growing bolder, I peered between the vegetation to try to see the creature more clearly, for I lay closer than anyone had ever been.

  It rose into the night, jet black except where the light of the Red Pit colored it. It seemed rooted to the earth; I could not imagine such a mass ever advancing. Lumps, indentations, and warts large as houses covered it. Where the light touched it, the lumps stood out on its hoary face like the mountains of the moon.

  I lay watching it a long time, until I became aware of a stirring in the ether. A wave of anxiety, created by the combined concern of my people, washed over me. Fearing the Watcher might sense their passions and guess the cause, I began crawling away from the behemoth at an angle. When I had gone a few hundred feet a mist seemed to lift from my mind. I suddenly felt the Watcher's silent, steadfast intellect pulsing all around me, and realized the beast not only knew of my presence, but sought, with infinite patience, to lure me to my destruction. Only my Night Hearing had saved me, for without it, the emotions emanating from the pyramid would never have brought me to my senses.


  Hearing a creaking sound above me, like stone grinding against stone, I glanced up at the Watcher's brooding face. An icy tremor ran through me, for the titan's head turned the merest fraction, and the soulless disks of its eyes looked full upon me.

  I began shivering so uncontrollably I could scarcely command my own body, not out of fear, but from the weight of that awful gaze bearing upon me. I put my head down, not daring to meet those terrible eyes, and attempted to crawl away. My trembling grew to the intensity of seizures; I collapsed, writhing, while the Watcher's will pressed upon me, seeking to shake me to pieces.

  For what seemed an eternity, I thrashed about, unable to proceed, caught like an insect on a pin. Despite my terror, I forced myself to concentrate, first on my right hand, then my left, willing them to push my body up. I drew myself to a crawling position, then dragged my knees forward, one leg at a time, all the while shuddering like an epileptic. I returned my attention to my right hand, and thrust outward, then did the same with my left. So I went, step by infinite step, for two miles, body quivering, bones rattling. During my struggle I became aware of a peculiar din, which I dimly recognized as my chattering teeth.

  The pressure abruptly ceased, leaving me gasping, heart hammering, every muscle aching. I kept on for another mile, not daring to look back. When I had put some distance between myself and the Watcher and could no longer sense its dreadful influence, I went more swiftly. Yet, many hours passed before I left that mountain of vigilance, and I often glanced behind me, fearing the Watcher would send an Evil Force in pursuit. I do not know what saved me from destruction as I lay beneath its scrutiny, unless it was the Rite of Preparation. It seemed as if the Watcher tried, almost casually, to destroy me, and finding it could not do so easily, decided I was not worth the effort.