Nightpeople

by Anthony Eaton

  She stood up, puzzled and slightly nauseated from contact so violently severed, brushing dust from the front of her tattered robe and looking carefully around. Only something big, powerful and dangerous could have intruded so clearly and rapidly into the lizard’s awareness.

  Saria knew everything there was to know about the valley, knew every boulder, every precious tree, every hidden hunting path and hollow. She knew the place like no one else, not even Ma Lee. She knew it as it was known to the animals, the rock-hoppers and lizards, the snakes and birds. Once she’d even managed to reach into one of the wild dogs that lived on the nightside ridge, but its mind was too frightening, too primal, vicious and intelligent. The dog had fought her, knowing what she was doing and resisting all the way. All she’d felt from the dog was that distant, malevolent burning. She’d never tried that again.

  But the lizard today had been different. That bolt of clarity, that sickening awareness just before it ran, suggested something either very close indeed or further off and very large. Even bigger than the dogs, and very dangerous. And that call – that first, initial tremulous summoning …

  It was almost dark now. She’d sunk into the lizard’s mind for much longer than she’d intended and Ma Lee would be furious, but she stood quietly, listening, straining for the slightest hint of something out of place. Everything seemed normal though. The creek trickled, a couple of insects ticked across its surface, and somewhere upstream a frog murped gently in the gloom; other than that not even a breath of wind stirred the trees. Whatever had startled the lizard, Saria couldn’t locate it with only her own senses.

  Thinking how useless it was to be a human, Saria finally gave up and bolted for the hut.

  She knew she was in trouble. It was so late that Ma would have lit the fire herself, and that would mean a whack and possibly no food. It all depended on just how grumpy the old woman was feeling. There was no point in worrying about it now.

  The hut squatted in a clearing a little way from the creek, and she fled through the growing darkness, sure-footed across the rough and uneven ground, stopping in the deep shadows where she could see the hut and the small garden behind it. The flickering glow inside told her that the fire was well and truly lit. It was too quiet, though. Ma wasn’t hollering for her or cursing as she would normally be by now.

  Saria’s nose crinkled as a smell floated through the still air. A spicy, dark, foreign smell. Meat. Roasting meat. What was Ma doing over there?

  Cautious, Saria slipped back behind the tree line and skirted the clearing in shadows until she could see the front of the hut. Nothing seemed out of place; the gardening tools were propped by the door where they belonged; the dung pile crouched a little way off, its festering, sweet pong attracting insects away from the hut. All seemed normal.

  Except the smell. The roasting. It drifted though the night air with a richness and promise that Saria instinctively distrusted. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  There were voices; not one, but two. Not the usual mutterings of Ma Lee as she bumbled about talking to herself, but the low murmer of voices in conversation. It wasn’t right. Old Dreamer Gaardi, who lived alone far up on the daywards ridge, would never come down into the valley in darkness. Saria slid onto her belly and crept across the furrows of dirt towards the hut.

  The unaccustomed smell of meat toyed with her nose. The thickness of it almost made her gag, bile rising in the back of her throat, nausea sliding into her in long, heavy waves. Still, she pushed herself carefully over the warm ground, knowing that the old woman inside would be listening for the slightest sound, the merest snap of a twig to tell her that Saria was nearby.

  Halfway between the tree line and the open door her foot gently scraped two red stones against each other and in seconds the flickering glow of the doorway was filled with Ma’s skinny presence.

  ‘Saria! Where you at, girl?’

  Saria froze, sinking into the dark with the stillness of a rock. She knew that the old woman hadn’t spotted her, otherwise she’d have been on her immediately, dragging her into the hut. She was probably night-blind from sitting by the fire.

  ‘Did you hear her?’

  The speaker was a man, but his voice was strong, deep, laden with the same dark heaviness as the smell of roasting meat. The timbre of it seemed to slither into the ground and Saria made herself even more still, like the lizard, in case this man was as aware of her vibrations as she was of his. Ma Lee ignored his question.

  ‘GIRL! Get in here.’

  The old woman’s shout echoed off the trees, but no sound answered her other than the stutter of the creek, until the man spoke again.

  ‘No matter. Come back and sit. She’ll turn up soon.’

  Casting a final glare into the darkness, Ma Lee retreated.

  Saria breathed a quiet sigh. Whatever happened she was in trouble now. She crept forward again until she was crouching below one of the hut’s narrow windows. Ma had not yet put up the shutters, so a little light escaped, throwing a long, dancing red shadow onto the ground. It cast trembling undulations of darkness off tiny ridges in the dirt. The meat smell was distracting and Saria worked to shut out the pressing queasiness it brought with it. The conversation inside carried clearly.

  ‘It’s bad, Ma. The council is still Dreamer Wanji’s but only just. There are movements afoot.’

  ‘But the girl isn’t …’

  ‘Shhh. We won’t speak of her yet.’

  ‘Have there been any more?’

  ‘None. Not in thirteen seasons.’

  ‘She is the only one, then?’

  ‘So it would appear.’

  ‘And Dreamer Wanji?’

  The man sighed. ‘He grows old.’

  Ma snorted. ‘He was old long ago.’

  ‘True, Ma. But lately there is a weariness about him I haven’t seen before.’

  ‘I know. Dreamer Gaardi says the same thing.’

  For a while neither spoke and Saria wondered if perhaps they’d fallen asleep, until the man’s voice broke the silence.

  ‘It seems strange to be back here. After so long, nothing has changed.’

  ‘Things have changed, Dariand. They always do.’

  ‘You haven’t, Ma.’

  The old woman laughed a guttural chuckle that Saria rarely heard.

  ‘You’d be surprised. Motherhood is all about change.’

  ‘You will miss it?’

  ‘Perhaps. But I’m an old woman now.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘Stay here. Wait to die. Like all of us.’

  ‘We’re not going to die, Ma.’

  ‘So you tell me.’

  ‘The girl is proof.’

  ‘Dariand …’ There was unusual gentleness in Ma’s tone. Saria had never heard her talk this way before. ‘Don’t talk to me of hope. The Darkedge is still there, it will always be there. The Nightpeople still fly and our Dreamers get older and older.’

  ‘But Saria …’

  ‘The girl is an aberration. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘Dreamer Wanji says …’

  ‘Dreamer Wanji is an old man who was lying to himself and council when he sent her to me. He has as little hope as the rest of us.’

  Again there was silence. Now when the man spoke it was more hesitant, more thoughtful.

  ‘There are those who believe now is the time to bargain.’

  ‘With the Nightpeople?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’ll do no good. She’s not enough.’

  ‘We will see.’

  ‘Dariand?’

  ‘Ma?’

  ‘Don’t do it to her. She can live here in safety and peace. Tell them she’d gone, or you couldn’t find us, or tell them – I don’t know, anything.’

  ‘I can’t, Ma. You know that. Dreamer Wanji needs her.’

  ‘She’s still a child.’

  ‘She’s …’

  Saria sneezed. The noise exploded from her, violent, unexpected, uncon
trolled. The smell of the meat had worked its way deep into her nose and head and, engrossed as she was in the conversation, the buzzing tingle had gone too long unnoticed.

  In seconds Ma Lee was outside, dragging Saria to her feet.

  ‘Listening from the dark, were you, girl? Like a night spirit? I’ll teach you to pry into business that’s not your own.’

  Inside, the foggy smell of the cooking was so close that Saria retched onto the dirt floor This earned her a stinging slap.

  ‘Now look! You couldn’t do that outside? How long have you been listening out there?’

  Saria stared sullenly into Ma’s blotchy, skinny face. The old woman’s slitted eyes seemed more wrinkled with anger than usual. Even though she appeared thin and weak, she could still pack a wallop, as Saria knew from experience. Ma’s fingers gripped deep into the soft flesh at the top of Saria’s arms.

  ‘Tell me, girl! How long?’

  Saria shrugged. Ma Lee shook her roughly.

  ‘Tell me, or you’ll get a worse thrashing than you’re already in for.’

  ‘Not long.’

  ‘What did you hear?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  The old woman delivered another whack.

  ‘That’ll do, Ma.’

  For the first time Saria looked at the man, who had risen from his place by the fire. She gasped. He was the largest creature, human or animal, that she had ever seen. He had to duck so as not to hit his head on the roof.

  ‘Let her go.’

  ‘Stay out of this, Dariand. She needs to learn respect.’

  ‘Ma.’ The man’s stare hardened. ‘Let her go.’

  The man held the old woman’s gaze until, grudgingly, she released Saria. The girl resisted the urge to rub her arm, on which Ma Lee’s finger marks showed clearly in the firelight. Instead, taking a small step away from the old woman, Saria took a proper look at the man.

  The strangest thing was his clothing. He wore a long, loose robe, grubby and stained, stitched together from heavy cloth unlike any Saria had ever seen. From a belt hung a water-skin and several other objects Saria didn’t recognise. Around his feet were small bags of thick animal hide, lashed tightly at his ankles.

  ‘What are those?’

  The man smiled and the look reminded Saria of the glittering expression of the wild dogs. She stepped back.

  ‘Shoes. They protect my feet.’

  ‘What are they made of?’

  ‘Animal skins.’

  She edged slowly towards the door while he spoke, but Ma Lee, knowing full well what would happen if Saria got within bolting distance, manoeuvred herself between the girl and her only escape, delivering a not-too-gentle shove in the middle of her back.

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’

  The man gestured at a pile of burnt meat on a bark plate by the fire. At the thought, her stomach heaved.

  ‘She won’t eat meat. Don’t waste your time.’

  ‘Saria, come and sit. I won’t hurt you.’

  The girl shook her head, but was shoved forward again.

  ‘Do as you’re told, girl.’

  Coming only as close as she had to, Saria sank to the ground.

  ‘My name is Dariand.’ The man also sat, arranging his robe around him. ‘I don’t imagine you remember me.’

  Saria was puzzled. She’d never met anyone other than Ma and Dreamer Gaardi. She’d heard Ma speak of other people, of course, but they lived outside the sheltering walls of the valley, in a world which for Saria was as remote as the vaultlights.

  ‘No.’ She tried to make her voice strong, but it came out tentative.

  ‘I didn’t think you would.’ His smile was disturbingly confident. ‘I knew you when you were very little, but only for a few days.’

  Saria studied him, not answering. She didn’t trust the way he smiled, the way he spoke; his accent was strange and his black hair long and lank and greasy. As she watched, he picked up a shank of meat, tearing at the greasy flesh with his teeth. A dribble ofjuice ran across his lips and down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving a slick, shiny smear across his cheek.

  ‘It was long ago. When I was much younger.’

  Saria thought the man looked young now, certainly compared with Ma Lee and Dreamer Gaardi. She said nothing, though, simply watched as he continued to eat. Finally he put the bone aside and took a long swig from his water-skin before sitting back and studying her again.

  ‘I never thought I’d see anything like her, Ma.’

  A grumbled ‘hmph’ was all the reply he drew from the old woman, who had now also settled herself by the fire, being careful to stay between Saria and the doorway. For a long time no one spoke, while the man appraised Saria.

  ‘She looks well.’

  ‘She should. She gets the best of the garden and spends all her time running around doing nothing.’

  Saria would have protested that she did as much as the old woman, but having decided that silence was safest she was determined to maintain it.

  ‘You’ve done a good job, Ma.’

  ‘But not a finished one.’

  ‘It’s as completed as it’s going to get.’

  Ma didn’t respond, and when Saria sneaked a glance she was surprised to see the old woman sitting with eyes downcast. It was such an unusually defeated stance for the fierce old woman that she almost stared openly, and the curiosity that had carried her so far gave way to the first flutterings of fear. She leapt back to her feet, wary of this man who could make even old Ma Lee seem so … broken.

  ‘Sit down, girl.’ The smile didn’t leave his eyes, not even for a moment.

  ‘What’s going on? Who are you?

  ‘I told you. I’m Dariand.’

  ‘Why have you come here?’

  ‘For you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Of course. I’ve come a long way to get you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because, Saria, you’re special.’ Now Dariand stood, too, unstretching his long frame until it seemed to fill the entire room, his robes rustling around him. ‘More than you realise. A lot of people have been suffering for a long time so you might have a chance to live. Some have even died for it.

  ‘For me?’

  Dariand nodded.

  ‘There’s nothing special about me.’

  ‘You’re more important than you can know. And time is running out for us now. That’s why I’ve been sent.’

  Saria turned to Ma Lee. ‘Ma, what’s happening? What’s going on?’

  ‘Shush, girl. Just sit and listen, eh?’ All the fight and life seemed to have drained out of the old woman.

  ‘But … ’

  ‘There’s things I shoulda told you, girl. Things about the past and the future. Things about you. But I’m just an old woman, eh? Not a Dreamer like Gaardi or a nightwalker like Dariand here. It wasn’t my place to teach. Not my business. I was just lucky to get to play mother, so that’s what I did. And I did a good job, too.’ Ma lifted her head slightly, just a hint of her old defiance returning in the tilt of her chin.

  ‘You did a fine job, Ma,’ Dariand interjected. ‘But now we’re out of time and Dreamer Wanji needs her at council. We’ve got to make decisions about her. About a lot of things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Too many to explain now, girl. But you’ll get your answers.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When we get to Woormra. Perhaps even on the way there.’

  ‘Woormra?’

  ‘It’s where you were born. The place I carried you from a long time ago. Now it’s time for me to take you back.’

  ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘You don’t have any choice.’

  ‘No.’ Saria refused again. ‘I’m not leaving the valley. You can’t make me.’

  ‘I can if I have to.’

  ‘He’s a nightwalker, girl.’ Ma said. ‘That won’t mean anything to you, but trust me, if he wants to get you there, he can. Even i
f he has to carry you all the way.’

  ‘But I want to stay here.’

  ‘What you want doesn’t matter any more.’

  ‘Ma …’ Saria turned to the old woman in appeal, but Ma Lee shook her head.

  ‘Nah, girl. He’s right. This is stuff going back a long time into the past. You and me are at the end of a long, long journey, and now you gotta step out off the path on your own.’

  ‘Listen, girl.’ Dariand took a tiny step towards her. ‘I know this is difficult, but there’s no other way. We’ll leave early tomorrow. Dreamer Gaardi will meet us down in the Shades.’

  ‘Dreamer Gaardi’s coming?’

  ‘Yes. He’ll keep us company.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’m still not going.’

  ‘I know you don’t want to, but there’s a lot more people in these lands than just you.’ Dariand slowly eased himself back to the ground. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I might sleep. I’ve had a long journey and it will be a big day tomorrow. Saria, you should sleep too.’

  ‘I’m not tired.’

  ‘Do as he says, girl,’ Ma interrupted. ‘He knows best.’

  Ma busied herself attaching the tin shutters to the windows to keep the early morning light out. Dariand settled in the shadows beside the door, lying fully clothed on the hard, packed dirt. When Ma went to place the shutter over the door, he stopped her.

  ‘Leave it, Ma. I like fresh air.’

  ‘Creatures could come in …’

  ‘Leave it.’

  Ma leaned the shutter back against the wall with no further argument and raked the coals down, plunging the room deeper into shadow.

  Crossing to her sleeping mat, Saria was aware of the man’s eyes watching, studying her as she prepared for sleep. His stare made her back and neck prickle, and as she went to shrug her robe off over her head a curious self-consciousness swept through her. She climbed under her blanket as quickly as possible and lay facing the wall. Even so, that measuring gaze still itched at her back.

  The light died to a dull glow. Ma’s shadow still bustled around, as she got into her own tattered night robe and rolled her sleeping mat out in its usual place near the food store. Then she did a strange thing, something she’d never done before; she crossed the room and perched on the edge of Saria’s mat.

  Under her worn blanket, Saria tensed. She hadn’t forgotten that earlier Ma had promised her a thrashing. But to her surprise, nothing happened. For a long time the old woman sat there while Saria feigned sleep. Then she reached out and lightly stroked her bony fingers against the girl’s matted hair. The sensation made Saria’s scalp tingle.