The Night Land, a Story Retold

by James Stoddard

  I speak not, of course, of the afterlife. For who knows how much or how little we will be transformed? For myself, I hope for beautiful things, for a sweet advancement into a world of which we behold the shores always in the light of love.

  Our voyage took four days of twenty-four hours each, for we loitered along so I could gather my strength. Other than the sea beast, we saw little of note except when we passed close to one particular volcano rising out of the waters. The sea boiled in various, seemingly random places all around it; the release of subterranean gases near its base made the waters bubble and groan. Scores of jets shot high into the air, roaring as they went. Long after we passed the volcano, we stared back at its terrible power, thankful at avoiding its boiling spray.

  Our only other concern came when we reached the place where the sea broke off into smaller lakes, but we always found passages where we could cross.

  As we went along, I pointed out various parts of the country that I remembered from my original journey, for Naani never seemed to tire of hearing of my adventures.

  At the end of the fourth day we beached our raft beside the shore, where the ground sloped up to the mouth of the gorge leading to the Night Land. Despite our peaceful journey, my mind had often turned toward our next step. If we could win through the gorge and the Night Land to the pyramid, we would have our whole lives before us, but our greatest dangers lay ahead.

  We stepped off the raft carrying our meager bundles.

  "I wonder," Naani said, "if anyone will ever see this craft again? Or will it remain here, forgotten through the ages?"

  "A wooden monument to our journey? It will rot, of course, long before anyone returns. If anyone ever does."

  Naani drew her knife, cut a piece of wood from the raft, and placed it in my pouch as a memento. She knelt and kissed the craft.

  "Thank you, good boat." I did not laugh, for I was grateful to that vessel as well. I also knew that with every step of the journey, we were moving farther from Naani's home, and this was another way for her to say goodbye.

  She helped me into my armor; it felt heavy after going without it for so long, but I took comfort in its weight. With my scrip and pouch at my back, my diskos in hand, and Naani with her knife-belt wrapped around her waist, we climbed toward the gaping darkness of the gorge.

  Some miles to our right rose that towering mountain where perched the four volcanoes that I had seen on my outward way. Below them lay the enormous hills of ash that had been building for thousands of years.

  We soon reached the foreboding mouth of the gorge. Though we had traveled far that day, and the canyon’s darkness seemed terrible after so much brilliance, we continued our journey, for I thought it wiser to leave the light behind rather than chance meeting any more of the Humped Men. When we came to the place where the gorge cut off the illumination by a sharp bend to the left, we paused and turned to catch one final glimpse of the Country of the Seas.

  It is impossible to describe our feelings. We, who were born into darkness, were leaving forever the only lighted country we had ever known. Perhaps recalling our previous existence in the sunlit world made the parting even more difficult. In those last moments, we stood listening to the far mutter of the volcanoes, the bubbling of the seas, and the clamor of life. Naani clutched my arm as we looked our last into the red glow of that deep, hidden country.

  It occurred to me that perhaps in some far distant future the Humped Men would find their humanity and build a civilization there, for though they were cruel, I thought them human enough. The thought comforted me, but when I suggested it to Naani, she did not seem to hear.

  Presently, I turned, and she slipped her hand into mine. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  "We will tell our children," she said.

  "Will they believe, I wonder?"

  We turned the corner of the gorge and stumbled into the gloom.

  ***

  Sixteen hours later we found a place to sleep where the dim glow of the Country of the Seas cast dull twilight on the stones. We rested well enough among the boulders and woke to the safety of silence.

  While we ate our breakfast, I consulted my journal to see how long it had taken to travel the gorge the first time. According to my account, if we went no more than sixteen hours each day we should reach the bottom of the Great Slope in five days.

  We soon left the twilight behind. The darkness oppressed me, for I feared something attacking Naani from the shadows. Occasional fires gave a little light, though the gases they emitted left us struggling to breathe.

  My strength increased every day. At first, after my two weeks of idleness, walking made me sore, but my stiffness eased by the second journey. We went along at a good rate, for we were both anxious to reach the Great Pyramid, I more than Naani because of my fear for her safety. Only an effort of will kept us from reckless haste or from walking past the sixteenth hour. Despite my anxiety, we did not see a living creature during our travels. It was a lonesome place, all boulders and stark stones, filled with a silence broken only by the spectral moaning or whistling of the burning gas echoing up and down the gorge. We kept close to one another, often touching hands, as if to reassure ourselves against the solitude. I could not help thinking that if we died there, we would lie unburied and unmourned, with none to know our fate.

  On the fifth day, at about the seventh hour, we heard the rising and falling of a rushing noise. I drew Naani close, and with my diskos ready, crept cautiously through the twilight. We passed three dancing gas fires singing their eldritch song among the rocks; distant flames seemed to catch the refrain and send it darting along the gorge.

  "I should have realized," I finally whispered to Naani. "It is the echoes of the giant gas fountain I told you about."

  "Is it close?"

  "Not yet, but it makes a tremendous commotion. We will be out of the gorge soon."

  We tried unsuccessfully to see the fountain, for it was so far away it looked the same size as the other fires leaping along the canyon, but after about an hour we perceived its distant, slow pulses of blue flame. The noise grew more steady and gradually turned into a vast piping with a constantly changing tone. We passed the last of the lesser fires, leaving only the gas fountain rising before us.

  The noise, which lifted and fell to the dance of the monster flame, was even more thunderous than I remembered. We stood staring at it, my arm around Naani, her hands to her ears. The tendrils of fire lifted and twisted, blue and gold, rising for hundreds of feet, while our shadows ran behind us, long and thin, tall as towers. The sides of the gorge sprang into sight with each surge of the flames. Speech was impossible, but we turned and looked at one another and exchanged a sober kiss in the blinding light.

  Eventually we turned and looked in our intended direction. The titanic boulders surrounding the fountain blocked our sight, but I managed to show Naani a glimpse of our way when the flame rose to its pinnacle.

  Though it was past the sixteenth hour, we walked another mile to escape the deafening blare and made our bed among the boulders. All through our slumbers the flames roared, and I dreamed I walked beside an ancient ocean, listening to the pounding surf.

  ***

  We woke, saying little, and watched the fountain dance as we ate our breakfast. I suppose I will never find the words to truly describe that monstrous, solitary fire, surrounded by the guardian stones.

  Soon, with our gear upon us, we set off toward the emptiness of the Great Slope. For most of the first day the gas fountain gave us some illumination, and when we glanced back, as we often did to see how high we had climbed, we found the flame shuddering below us in the night. I was surprised at how quickly the slope brought us above the level of the fire; it did not seem that steep, though our legs told us we were constantly climbing.

  As we left the fountain behind, the light gradually faded, so that by the end of our trek we stumbled numbly through the gloom.

  On the second day we entered total darkness and had to crawl on ha
nds and knees. This proved a terrible ordeal for Naani, who had neither gloves, nor armor to protect her legs. At first we traded off using the gloves, but her hands grew so sore that wearing them hurt as much as the stones did. Finally, we thought to wrap the rags from her bundle around her hands and knees.

  I led the way, my diskos at my hip. I used my pouch strap and tied one end to my wrist and the other to Naani's belt, so we would never lose contact. I tied the other strap from my scrip to a stone, and cast it in front of me as I had done before. Since we climbed this time instead of descending, and since I had traveled the slope before, I did not feel this to be absolutely necessary, but I continued the practice because of the memory of the Pit of Hands. I also kept to the right side of the slope to avoid encountering it again.

  For eight days we ascended through that terrible darkness, the only sound our shuffling steps and the echo of the stone I threw. To us, wanting to go as silently as possible, its reverberations seemed tremendously loud. I grew sick of tossing the rock and groping among the boulders. At times we seemed no more than phantoms, doomed to creep along that endless way. A gnawing fear of wandering in circles beset me, for often I could not tell if I crept upward or downward. In those moments I had to pause, draw Naani close, and for at least an instant, let the diskos emit a flash of comfort through the eternal desolation. Our faces shone pale and alien in the luminous glow; we exchanged ravenous glances, devouring the sight of one another, each glimpse sustaining us until the next burst of light.

  Sometime during the fourth day Naani crept to me and kissed me on the cheek, her face wet with tears.

  "Why are you crying?" I whispered.

  "I want you to know that I am forever indebted to you. For you to dare this awful darkness for my sake, not knowing what lay at its end, fills me with awe, and humility, and deepest gratitude."

  I kissed her on the mouth, both out of love, but also to silence her, for her words made me both proud and embarrassed. Loving her as I did, with a love that drove me to dare anything, I never considered myself especially heroic. I treasured her words, though, since I had been feeling particularly low at that moment, and her praise gave me the strength to go on.

  That became the way of it during that leg of the journey, that we took turns fighting despair—it was so dark; it seemed it would be dark forever. And beyond the darkness lay the horrors of the Night Land. But whenever I could no longer bear the shadows, Naani would whisper a few words of cheer, and when it seemed she could not crawl another step, I comforted her as best I could.

  At the beginning of the fifth day we finally admitted to one another that every time we woke we thought we sensed some creature nearby, even as I had done on my original journey. Whatever it was, we felt its presence all the time we traveled the Great Slope. Though it filled me with foreboding for Naani's safety, she did not fear it, for her Night Hearing told her it intended no harm. Whether it was some kind of animal, or a dispassionate Force, or even something giving us protection and aid, we never knew.

  The air became colder and we kept the cloak about us when we slept, though we did not need it when we journeyed because of our exertions. Our breathing grew more difficult, and the powder bubbled less when we poured it into the cup.

  I kept track of the time by glancing at my chronometer whenever I triggered my diskos for light, but I also learned the number of stone throws in an hour, a talent for which there is little demand. Naani was actually the one who discovered it, and she became as accurate as any timepiece, while I tended to lose count. Surrounded as we were by the eternal darkness, having only each other, our spirits grew even closer. Adversity either draws lovers together or tears them apart. If the love is strong enough, and if they are determined to cherish that love, they will prevail, for love is more than an emotion; it is an act of will. In those times when we feel neither lovable nor loving, we should set our sights upon our love, resolving that nothing will move us. Many have erred in thinking love a passing fancy, rather than a continuous, eternal goal.

  On the eighth day, about the end of the ninth hour, we caught a glimpse of light far above us. We had finally reached the Night Land.

  XVIII

  FORCES OF EVIL

  After being so long in darkness, we hurried toward the light, which gradually became clearer until we saw it as a high, looming glow. We continued our ascent, and at the fourteenth hour, stood at the end of the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk.

  We followed the Road until we topped the Great Slope and at last stared out over the wonder and mystery of the Night Land. Despite the dangers I knew we must face, I was ecstatic with pride. I had returned home even as I had vowed, bringing Naani back out of the unknown world. But my conceit vanished as I looked across that country, replaced by a dread of our ever reaching the pyramid through all the Forces, monsters, and beast-men.

  I searched eagerly for the Great Pyramid, and upon spying it, put my arm around Naani and pointed. Only the highest lights on the Tower of Observation were visible, yet a flush of joy ran through me.

  She studied it a long time, then turned to me, threw her arms around my neck, and burst into tears. I was close to weeping myself, and we held each other in the darkness.

  "How far is it?" she asked. "What will we have to cross to reach it? Will those within be able to help? Can you contact them?"

  "Which question do you want me to answer?"

  She stopped and put her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. It's just so wonderful. When you told me about it, it was as if you spoke of heaven. Yet there it is, so bright and shining. I can see the Earth Current pulsing inside it, even from this distance! I just can't believe it."

  "It will take several days to reach it, and there are many dangers, the greatest of which is the first, the House of Silence."

  I pointed to the House. Upon seeing it, Naani shrank back, as if physically struck.

  I clutched at her. "What is it?"

  "It's horrible!" she said. "Can't you feel it? I wish I had never looked at it. We have to hide."

  Since her Night Hearing was more acute than my own, I did not question her, but obeyed at once. The sight of the House, with its aura of brooding, vigilant evil had always affected me, as if some fate awaited me concerning it. We threw ourselves among the moss bushes growing in clumps beside the Road and waited until Naani's fear subsided. It crossed my mind that despite the terrors surrounding the Lesser Redoubt, more Forces of Evil had gravitated toward my pyramid, drawn by its many souls.

  The House of Silence stood upon its low hill, relatively nearby and to our right. Since I had been forced to travel on hands and knees to escape its notice the first time, it had taken me many hours to pass from under its shadow to the top of the Great Slope. We would have to be careful again, and the thought of approaching it filled me with dread. I wished the task was over and done.

  After some discussion, we decided to eat and find a place to sleep, so we could be fresh to face the dangers before us. We searched until we discovered a mammoth boulder surrounded by moss bushes, and lay down beneath the vegetation. The chill of the Night Land fell upon us immediately. We huddled in the cloak, sharing what little body heat my armor allowed, keeping quiet, sobered by the House of Silence; I slept fitfully, waking often to listen for danger.

  Nonetheless, nothing disturbed us, and after eight hours we rose, ate, and set out again. I made Naani wear the cloak. At first she refused, until I explained that I needed my limbs free to fight, and dared not be hindered by it.

  The Road Where The Silent Ones Walk bent around the bottom of the hill where the House of Silence stood. In my original journey, it had taken eleven days from the Last Redoubt to the top of the Great Slope, because I had traveled around to the northwest of the Plain Of Blue Fire. From where I now stood, I saw a shorter route that might take us out of danger in four or five days.

  I showed Naani how the pyramid stood right behind the House of Silence, so that the most direct path would be in a straight line. Whichever w
ay we went, we could not avoid passing close to the House, since in that area barren rock covered the country to the northwest and the only concealment lay in the vegetation along the Road. We would have to cross the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk twice, but we agreed it was worth the risk.

  I did not have to warn Naani of the danger of the House; she sensed it quite well, and we left the top of the Great Slope and descended into the Night Land, crawling from bush to bush until we intersected the Road. For several anxious moments we looked for signs of the Silent Ones, but seeing none, we bolted across. Its surface shimmered like gray glass and our footfalls echoed strangely on its surface. It seemed miles wide, though it was probably less than a hundred paces. I was terrified, but the next moment we were across, scampering into the foliage to the east. Once concealed, we lay quiet for several minutes, watching to see if anything approached.

  When nothing arrived to destroy us, I led us away, feeling buoyant at our successful crossing. We stayed on the southeast perimeter of the bushes, to put as much distance between us and the House as possible, which now lay ahead and to our right. In this way, we would never be nearer than a mile from it, though truthfully, that was dreadfully close.

  We traveled six hours before resting, creeping on all fours, or stooping like apes. We did not speak, but listened continually. By the tenth hour we had drawn relatively close to the House, though as far away as the vegetation allowed. To our left stretched bare stone, glowing fire-holes, and also one of the Silent Towers scattered across the land, which were thought to contain strange Watchers.

  This Tower stood tall and thin, far away among the naked rock, gray and dim except when the flare of distant fires shed light upon it. We dared not ignore it; such Towers were believed to be outposts of the House of Silence, so we tried to keep hidden from both it and the House. It was hard to remember the Tower, however, with the windows of the mansion peering down on us like vacant eyes.

  By the eleventh hour we had to creep from bush to bush, shadows passing between the darkness and light, for the House loomed huge and silent above us, directly to our right, its lights shining as deathless and steadfast as they had through all the dreary ages. We could feel the evil emanating from it, as sharp and bitter as acid on the tongue. Our attempts at remaining concealed from that probing Force seemed utterly futile, as if we were children playing hide and seek, thinking ourselves secure while the adults watched, knowing our every move.