The Night Land, a Story Retold

by James Stoddard

  At last I sat up, holding my neck with both hands, as if my head would fall off. I massaged the muscles until the agony diminished, then climbed back to my feet, humbled once more.

  I proceeded more cautiously, and soon began wondering why the pyramid looked so dark. Though Naani and I had not discussed it, I thought it reasonable to assume the pyramid's builders might have shrouded its lights in order to conceal it. Perhaps this explained why I saw none of the terrible Watchers such as surrounded my own refuge. I vowed, once I returned home, to suggest a similar tactic to my people, to see if the light attracted the monsters. Perhaps some of the terrors of the Night Land would drift away if we shielded our own embrasures.

  As I recovered a little more from my fall, I pressed on with fierce eagerness. I had climbed to the upper plateau of the volcano in thirteen hours; I returned to the plain in less than ten. Though the redoubt was now hidden in the darkness, the hill on which it stood hulked before me, blocking the light of the fires behind it.

  I continued another four hours, passing various pits and fire-holes. I knew I was drawing closer since the hill blocked more and more of my view, but another hour passed before I reached it. I heard the sound of running and distant screams four times during that five hours, but could never see what caused the commotion. Whatever it was, it made my blood run cold.

  I ascended the hill, my heart pounding with excitement, scarcely able to suppress the urge to shout Naani's name or use the Master Word. The higher I went, the more a cold fear gripped me, as if my spirit understood what my heart could not perceive.

  After laboring three hours to reach the top of the hill, I stopped with a halting cry. The pyramid stood before me, not as large as my own home, but still a formidable structure, rising desolate and silent into the night. For the first time I realized its lights were not shrouded, for its empty embrasures stared out at me. The Circle lay dead, its tube shattered. The huge door gaped open. Surely, if anything still dwelled inside that tremendous, dark hulk, it was not human.

  At last I understood the sounds of running feet and the screams in the night.

  I stumbled back down the hill, my chest heaving, my whole world torn asunder.

  XII

  VOICES IN THE DARK

  It took me four hours to get clear of the hill. I stumbled blindly along, heedless of my way, until I found myself upon the shores of the ancient seabed. I do not know how I reached it so quickly; either the sea curved closer at that point or there were two separate seabeds in that region.

  I sat beside the shore, too stunned to marshal my thoughts. If Naani were gone, my only hope was for some beast to appear so I could die fighting it. Such thinking eventually reminded me of the sounds of pursuit I had heard. As horrible as it was to think of humans being hunted through the night, it suggested that some might still survive. I decided to send the Master Word, to discover if Naani still lived. If she did not answer—if an Evil Force appeared instead to destroy me—at least it would end my heartache.

  I stood, and after surveying the blackness for enemies, projected the Master Word, followed three times by Naani's name. Several seconds of silence passed. I sighed and dropped my head.

  The next instant, the Master Word broke all around me, spoken in Naani's faint, sorrowful voice. My circus strongman. I am going to die soon. I only wish you were here.

  A trembling joy filled my heart. For the first time since leaving the pyramid, after so many days of grim labor and terrible fear, I knew this was Naani calling. Though the voice was faint, it seemed to be nearby. A hundred questions ran through my mind: what perils did she face? Did she have a weapon? How could I find her in such an enormous land? Even as I tried to clear my mind so I could send an answer, I turned my head toward a clump of bushes surrounding a fire-hole about fifty paces away. Though I could see nothing through the foliage, I sensed, with inexplicable certainty, that there was some creature lurking around the flames. Without answering Naani, I slipped into the bushes and crept close enough to peer between the leaves into the clearing surrounding the fire.

  A small figure knelt beside the flames, softly weeping, a slim woman who raised her head from side to side, listening even as she cried.

  I knew in my soul, all in a single moment, that this was my own, true love. I drew in a hissing breath and rasped, "Mirdath!"

  Instantly, she stopped crying and dropped to a crouch, her features suffused with terror, the tears on her face shining in the firelight.

  I pulled myself to my feet, parting the reeds. I must have looked dreadful in my gray armor, for she screamed and fell back against the bushes on the other side of the fire. She tried to slip between the vegetation, but it proved impenetrable. With a gasping cry, she turned upon me, her face both fierce and frightened. The thin blade of a knife glistened in the firelight.

  "Mirdath," I repeated, and spoke the Master Word aloud. "I am That One. I am Andros."

  Recognition came to her, and she cried out something in a broken voice, whether Andros or Andrew, I could not tell. The knife slipped from her hand. She took a stumbling step toward me, then sobbing and shaking, fell to her knees.

  I stumbled toward her in turn, but then hesitated, not knowing if I should take her in my arms, for though this was Mirdath, she was also a stranger.

  She lifted her hand weakly toward me, and I saw the same uncertainty in her eyes.

  "Mirdath," I cried again, and my own knees gave way. I dropped beside her, so that we knelt face to face. She thrust her hands into mine; I grasped hers hungrily. Racking sobs escaped me. For a moment I do not know what either of us said, except that they were things from the old world and the new intermixed: Andros and Andrew, Mirdath and Naani, old love names. We fell into each others' arms and wept together. In that moment, it was as if my soul, broken asunder all my life, was now made whole.

  Eventually, we caught our breath and looked at one another, strangers and friends all at once. We exchanged shy smiles. Though she was much smaller than Mirdath, and looked nothing like her, Naani's appearance pleased me. Her face was thin with hunger and stress, which made her pale blue eyes look enormous. She had a petite nose and a pleasantly wry mouth that turned down when she smiled. Her hair, which lay in a red-gold tangle around her face, barely touched her shoulders. A fingernail-thin scar graced the left side of her chin.

  "How long have you been alone?" I asked.

  "A lifetime," she whispered.

  I looked down at the wasted hand within my palm. Her skin felt ice cold; the bushes and thorns had nearly torn her clothes to pieces. Without thinking, I lifted her off her feet, causing her to give a tiny peep of surprise. I set her down with her back against a smooth rock, then stripped off my cloak and put it over her shoulders. She clutched it around her.

  I took a tablet out of my scrip, crumpled it into my cup, and added the powder for water. I then heated it upon a rock beside the fire, which turned the concoction into a thin broth. When I tried to give her the cup, her hands shook too badly to hold it, so I fed her by lifting it to her lips.

  After she had eaten, she whispered, "I'm sorry I'm so weak. I didn't want you to see me weak. Not after the last time . . ." She began crying, as was only natural for one who had faced so many terrors, but her words shook me to the core, for I knew she meant when she had died as Mirdath.

  I reached under the cloak and held her hands to warm them. We took strength from each other, and her crying finally ceased.

  After a little while, her fingers stirred within mine, and I tried to loosen my grip. Though she neither spoke nor looked at me, she clutched my hands in a weak grasp, so I kept them where they were. I sat there, mostly contented except for an apprehension that after my finally finding her, we might still be destroyed by a monster from the bushes. I realized then that though I had often feared danger in my journey, I dreaded it even more with Naani beside me.

  After a time, she rose, took my hands, and looked at me as if still trying to comprehend that she no longer traveled t
hat dark country alone. As we sat beside one another, she kissed my palms and began to weep in a soft, gasping cry of deep mourning. I took her in my arms and held her gently, stroking her hair, whispering the names of both Naani and Mirdath, and speaking words I scarcely knew I said. She wept a long time, and we held each other, two lonely people in a vast darkness.

  Eventually, her weeping subsided, and while she rested against the rock, I made her more broth, then sat beside her to eat my three tablets and drink some water.

  "This is good," she said, taking the cup in both hands. "What do you call it?"

  "I don't know. Broth, I suppose. I just now invented it."

  She studied me gravely, staring with a fixed intensity far different from Mirdath's demure manner. "With so few ingredients?"

  I do not know why we thought this funny, though for me it might have been to hide an unexpected shyness at finding myself eye to eye with a woman who was, in many ways, a stranger. Whatever the case, I began to laugh, though softly because of the threat of danger. She broke into a wry grin, and had to put her hands over her mouth to suppress her own laughter. We sputtered until our sides hurt, and must have looked quite peculiar in our subdued fits of mirth.

  After we recovered ourselves, we sat in silence a little while. Eventually, I gave her a serious look and asked, "Can you tell me what happened?"

  She looked down, and for a moment I feared I had asked too soon, but at last she began, her voice quavering slightly: "After you and I last spoke, the Earth Current dropped to its lowest levels. Without its protection, an Evil Influence reached into some of my people's minds, compelling them to open the Great Door and enter the night. As soon as they were gone, monsters entered the redoubt. They . . . hunted us. Our weapons were useless against them. My father and I, along with the other Monstruwacans, held them off for a while in the upper stories. At last, they broke through. I saw my father . . . I saw my father—"

  She broke down again. "A shaggy man," she finally managed, "A shaggy man killed him. Somehow, I reached the lifts and made it through the Great Doors before the power completely failed.

  "At first I traveled with three other women, all about my own age, but we were attacked by giants while we slept. They took two of the others, and Mira, the remaining girl, fled one direction, while I ran another. I never saw her again."

  "How long ago did it happen?" I stroked her palms. Her hands were much smaller in mine than Mirdath's had been.

  "I don't know. Only a few days, perhaps. Or an eternity. Time doesn't exist out here. Only darkness."

  "Did you ever hear me calling after the last time we spoke?"

  "No," she said, "though I called to you sometimes when I grew heartsick. I couldn't do it often. Every time I did, some beast came searching for me."

  I sat in silent wonder, for if she had failed to hear my calls, it must have been because she was outside the pyramid all during my journey. That was why my compass finally stopped pointing toward her redoubt. Before then, it must have been responding to the residual energies of her pyramid's dying Earth Current.

  "How have you survived?"

  "Running, hiding." She shuddered. "I've tried eating everything but the rocks—the moss, odd berries and growths. My only water came from the hot springs. Half the time either the sulphur in the pools or poisons in the plants made me sick. Once, my stomach hurt so much I thought I was going to die. At the time, I wished I could. I saw a woman killed once, not ten paces from where I hid, by a monster with two hands on each arm. I've often heard my people being chased through the dark, but I couldn't do anything to help. I found a group of humans hiding among the bushes once, but they refused to believe I was one of them. They ran away, and when I tried to follow, drove me back with stones.

  "I lost all hope after that, though I kept as near the pyramid as I could. I don't know what I hoped for, perhaps that your people would send help. Despite the danger, I had to stay close to the fire-holes because of the cold. Monsters often chased me away or tried to take me while I slept. Before you found me, I had decided to stay by the fire until something killed me. I couldn't stand the cold any more. I sat down, while the spider-crabs squatted all around, waiting for me to die. When I heard your call, it only made me feel worse, for I thought you were still in the Great Pyramid. And then . . . you were here."

  I looked around, not knowing what to say. My eyes fixed upon the circle of light, where the spider-crabs still waited, their high eyes glowing out of the shadows. That I had failed to notice them before shows how familiar such strange forms of life had become to me.

  In sudden disgust, I rose to my feet, strode to the border of the light, and kicked the creatures away until they finally fled. Unlike the crabs of Andrew's time, these did not try to pinch me, but retreated.

  "They won't bother you again," I said, turning fiercely back to Naani.

  She laughed, with a shadow of what I thought must be a natural tendency to levity. I made her another cup of broth. After drinking it, she became weary again, so I prepared a smooth place for her, gave her my pouch and scrip for a pillow, and wrapped her in my cloak so she could sleep. When one of her feet poked out from beneath the covering, I noticed how shredded her shoes were, and vowed to wash and bind her feet when she woke.

  Occasionally she moaned or cried out in her sleep, as the memories of being hunted stalked her through her dreams. I stroked her head and whispered comfort each time it occurred, and though she did not wake, she became still once more.

  While she slept, I stripped off my armor and removed my body vest. I put my gear back on, but folded the vest and laid it beside Naani.

  She slept for ten hours, while I walked around the fire-hole, listening with both my spirit and my ears, determined to double my vigilance now that she was in my care.

  She awoke sweetly, taking my hand and breathing a sigh. "You're really here."

  "I am."

  "How long was I asleep?"

  "Ten hours."

  She tried to rise. "So long? Were there any beasts?"

  "No." I helped her to a sitting position. "All is well."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have slept so long."

  "You needed it."

  "I suppose I did." She smiled. "I'm much stronger now. How long has it been since you slept?"

  I glanced at my chronometer. "Eighty-four hours . . . and . . . seventeen minutes. About three and half days." I spoke without thinking, hesitating only when I saw the pain in her eyes. No sooner had I said it than a tremendous faintness came over me, making me sway slightly. I chuckled somewhat stupidly as a thin buzzing filled my ears.

  She tossed the cloak aside and rose to steady me. "What a poor friend I am! You must lie down. It's a wonder you can stand at all."

  In a moment, despite my weak protests, she had the scrip and pouch under my head and the cloak covering me while she sat beside me, rubbing my hands.

  "When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

  "Before you went to sleep. The tablets were in the scrip. I didn't want to wake you to get them."

  She gave a soft moan. "Lift your head."

  I complied and she took the tablets, the flask, and the cup from the scrip, then put it back under my head. "Tell me how to make this."

  I obeyed, and she laughed in delight when the powder fizzed up to create the water, though she put in too much and it spilled over the rim. I drank it with my head on her lap.

  I pointed to the body vest. "You can wear that. It will help keep you warm."

  "Don't you need it?"

  "No," I lied, fearing she might refuse to wear it if I told her I had taken it from my own body. "It's an extra."

  Tears sprang to her eyes, so I knew she realized the truth, but she took my hand, kissed it, and said, "Thank you, Andros. Or should I call you Andrew?"

  I laughed in my stupor. "Call me whatever you want, my lady. Sometimes I feel like both men at the same time."

  "You must sleep."

  "Not yet,"
I said. "I need to bathe your feet first. I have ointment in my pack."

  She laughed. "I can do that myself."

  Seeing she had the upper hand, I did not complain any more. I turned on my right side, facing the fire, with my diskos at my breast. She looked at the weapon curiously, but said nothing.

  "You mustn't touch the diskos," I said, "except in greatest need, for it responds only to its master's hand and is dangerous to anyone else. Promise to wake me the instant you see or hear anything unusual."

  "I promise," she said, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand.

  I meant to tell her other things, to warn her of what dangers might be near, but my exhaustion took me. It seemed I slept but a moment, perhaps the first good sleep I had throughout my entire journey, knowing that someone kept watch. When I opened my eyes again I saw Naani sitting beside me. She had arranged her hair with a comb from my pouch, so it fell attractively around her face. She wore the body vest, which I guessed she had washed. The suit was somewhat loose, but still revealed her figure. She blushed slightly as my eyes took her in, for if anything, the people of that time were more modest than those of Andrew's day, perhaps from living in such close quarters in the redoubts.

  I dropped my eyes to avoid making her more uncomfortable, and she bent over and kissed my cheek, partially, I think, to hide her embarrassment.

  "How long have I slept?" I asked.

  "Twelve hours, by your chronometer."

  "That long? I had no idea. I'm sorry to have left you alone."

  She gave a pixie smile. "No more than what I did to you."

  "When did you eat last?"

  "About six hours ago. This food of yours is nourishing, but not filling. Still, its better than anything I've had for days."